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pls-let-me-out · 4 years

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The Selection

For thirthy-five youngers, the Selection is the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to escape the life laid out for them since birth. To be swept up in a world of glittering gowns and priceless jewels. To live in a palace and compete for the heart of gorgeous Prince William.

But for Niccolò Jackson, formerly di Angelo, being Selected is a nightmare. It means leaving his home to enter a fierce competition for a crown he doesn't want. Living in a palace that is constantly threatened by violent rebel attacks. Especially when he knows that his family has rebel affiliations. Just one slip as he talks of them, and he will be executed for treason. So, when he is chosen to participate, he has a simple plan: get in, don’t do absolutely anything to attract the Prince’s attention, and be sent home after the first week.

Of course, things start going down-hill since the first day.

After saying good-bye to his younger sister Hazel, with the promise of writing, the last thing Nico wants to do is socializing with the other suitors. Not only would it be absolutely tiring, but he also finds it useless, as they are meant to be competitors for the same prize. None of them will cultivate any long-lasting relationship. Not that the others are too heartbroken to see him disappear, they have been eyeing him weirdly since he first set foot down the plane. He isn’t the one from the lowest cast, but most of the others are from the higher ones.

Nico is a Six, or has been so for the last few years. It’s the cast of workers. He doesn’t know how much of a background-check they’ve done at the Palace, how much the Prince actually knows about him. However, it has taken Nico exactly a look at the other two suitors from the lower castes (Elise, a Seven, a manual laborer; James, a fellow Six) to know that they are the charity cases. Every time a Selection is held, people from all castes (except Eights) are brought to the Palace, but it’s always clear that they won’t stay for long. They are often ignored by the other suitors and the Royals. It’s fine by Nico. He will be paid for staying a week.

The gardens are at least pretty. Nico has to admit as much. There’s a maze somewhere, which he doesn’t want to see even from afar, and old statues in white marble are scattered around. If Hazel were here, she would love the place. Nico finds it a bit overboard. There’s a golden plaque on the ground. Nico bends to read the descriptions.

“Forgive me,” someone says, and Nico almost jumps out of his skin. “Are you lost, sir?”

Nico turns around, hiding the cigarette behind himself. Useless, since it just makes the smoke come from behind him. The person he comes face to face with has widened blue eyes. Oh shit.

So much for not being noticed, Nico thinks. In complete silence, he stares at the Prince, and the Prince stares right back at him. Nico hopes that, if he gets away from the situation at hand quickly enough, the Prince will forget his face. Poor people probably look all the same to pricks like him, anyway.

“Hey!” The Prince exclaims, and a smile brightens his features. “You are one of the suitors, aren’t you? I’m Prince William, it’s nice to meet you.”

Prince William extends a hand, and Nico has to switch the cigarette in the other hand to shake it.

“Niccolò Jackson,” Nico says. Should he say that it’s nice to meet him? How is he supposed to know how to greet a Prince? He lets go of the Prince’s hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” the Prince continues. “However, shouldn’t you be socializing with the other suitors?”

Nico sighs. “It’s not really my scene. Sorry.” He shrugs.

“Oh.” The Prince rubs the back of his neck, looking around uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to stay,” Nico says. He craves peace and quiet, and he can’t get it when the whole reason he has been taken away from the family in the first place is right in front of him. “You can just go. I’m sure you have very important things to do.”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Greeting every suitor, for example.”

“Consider me greeted.” Nico nods one last time at the Prince, before giving him his back and inhaling the smoke of his cigarette. He really hopes they aren’t being filmed right now, or Sally will kick his ass once he gets home.

“I – you shouldn’t be smoking,” the Prince continues.

“Will you put me in jail if I do?”

The Prince seems even more taken aback, and Nico is starting to feel impatient. He wants to go home and sleep for the next few years, but he can’t, because of course he just had to be one of thirty-five idiots sorted from the whole kingdom. That’s just the kind of luck that follows him around these days.

“Well?” Nico asks again. “Will you put me in jail?”

“Of course no! But it’s bad for-”

“Bad for me, so mind your own business.”

And with that, Nico stomps away. They won’t even notice I’m there, Nico told Hazel before leaving, when she was still in bed with her hair wrapped in her scarf. I’ll be a shadow. I’ll sneak something out of the Palace for you, though. She laughed, until her lungs started burning again, and she got cut off by a heavy round of coughs.

Nico shares his suite with a guy named something he can’t pronounce. He’s a Two, an actor. He informs Nico of that himself, and also asks whether Nico wants an autograph. It’s almost heartbreaking, how Nico has to inform him that he has never seen any of his movies.

“It must be such an upgrade for you,” the guy continues, from where he is perched on the sofa, watching him unpack through the open door of the bedroom. “Passing from being a Six to a Three. You know you will be a Three when this is all over, don’t you? Of course I will remain a Two, unless the Prince chooses me. Then I’d be a One. Don’t you find it so-?”

Nico doesn’t hear the rest. He closes the door, muttering something about taking a bath. He just sits on the bed, and lets the hours pass. He doesn’t get out of his room until it’s dinner time, when they are brought food into the suite. Actor-boy tells him that he will be dining with the girls in the next suite, and leaves Nico behind.

The following day the suitors have breakfast together. Only one place is left vacant at the table, by the time food arrives.

“Is it for the Prince?” The girl next to him asks another. “Should we wait for him?”

The other shakes her head. “Oh, no. It’s for Drew Tanaka. She will be having breakfast with her family, though.”

Nico furrows his eyebrows, sipping his coffee quietly. Shouldn’t that not be allowed? They can keep their phones and contact their families, also post on social media, but they shouldn’t be traveling home. And does she intend on traveling home every day?

“Her father’s a lord,” the second girl responds. “Her family lives here.” She snorts. “Didn’t you research anything about the other suitors?”

“I didn’t think it was allowed.”

“And it isn’t,” a third girl says. She sighs. “Honestly. Just don’t talk about breaking the rules so openly at the breakfast table. You don’t even know who is listening.”

Nico feels her eyes on his face, but he doesn’t look up from his coffee. Once again, he wishes he were in his own home, even if it means having to deal with Percy and his obnoxiousness. Maybe he can stay just for a few days, thinking better about it.

When breakfast is over, they are brought to a circular room. The smell of flowers in there is almost nauseating, and Nico wishes he could open the windows. But Jasmine – the woman who showed them around yesterday – is already giving him weird looks. If he were to step closer to the window, she would probably think him in the middle of a robbery of windows. So he walks around the room while he waits for his turn, stopping every once in a while to admire the paintings on the walls.

“You aren’t a Five, are you?”

Nico almost jumps out of his skin. Again. This time at least it isn’t the Prince in front of him, but the third girl from the breakfast table. Nico shakes his head.

“Six,” he says. “But not only Fives can watch art, you know.”

“I guess,” she responds, shrugging a bare shoulder. The girls are wearing elegant dresses, and hers has a particularly large gown. Nico is in a suit, which he looks like an idiot in. “I’m Lou Ellen, Two.”

“Niccolò Jackson,” Nico says. “Six.”

“You already said that.”

Nico shrugs, without anything left to say. He turns back to the painting.

“You don’t look particularly happy to be here,” she continues. “Don’t you want to woo Will?”

Nico turns back to her. “Who’s Will?”

“Prince William.” She doesn’t hide a smile. “He’s a friend of mine. So, are you going to woo him?”

“That’s just the least my charming personality can do,” Nico replies. There’s a smudge of something in the corner of the painting, which is in equal measure disgusting for the viewers and horrifically disrespectful to the artist.

Lou Ellen laughs. “I guess so. Why are you here if you don’t think you can woo him?”

Nico shrugs. “Aren’t they paying us?”

“Chapeau,” Lou Ellen concedes. She takes a deep breath. “You don’t seem very interested in making friends.”

“That’s because we won’t be friends for long. Ten go away after this first week, or fifteen, I didn’t really read all that well. After that, everyone who has stayed will try their best to remain again, beat the others somehow. At some point, people will just be stabbing each other in the back.”

“Will you?”

Nico scoffs. “I won’t stay that long. Me, the other Six, and the girl from Seven. We are the three everyone is certain will leave after this week. We are placeholders.”

Lou Ellen is called in next. They’re going by order of the castes, so Nico is the third-last to go in. He finds the Prince seated at the round table, the breeze entering from the window is ruffling his blond hair. His lips are already pulled in a smile when Nico enters. It makes him shiver.

“Mr. Jackson,” the Prince says. “It’s very nice to see you again.”

The Prince gestures to the enormous teapot and the two empty mugs. There are also many types of sweets, and the lemon-cake Hazel likes so much. Just thinking of her has nostalgia blossom in Nico’s chest, and they have only been apart for a day.

“Are you glaring at the lemon cake?” The Prince asks.

Nico startles. He quickly sits at the free chair. “No.”

“Are you allergic?”

“No.” Nico clears his throat.

“May I offer you some tea?”

“I really despise tea,” Nico replies. He crosses his arms on the chest, leaning back. The Prince pours some for himself. “Also, isn’t it your thirty-third cup?”

The Prince smiles. “Yup. Believe it or not, there are people who enjoy a good cup of tea.”

“I can believe that, but thirty-three in a morning is a bit of a stretch. Won’t you get indigestion or something?”

“Is that a threat?”

“From the one who thought that it would be alright to let you drink thirty-three cups of tea in a morning, maybe,” Nico replies. He grins. “Not for the poor soul who is just the witness. Should I tell the thirty-fifth to let you take a toilet break?”

The Prince laughs. “I really hope you know we are being filmed, and this is a live-stream.”

Nico taps his foot on the ground. He isn’t used to being on camera anymore, although Hazel often posts short videos in which he also appears on her profiles on social media. He doesn’t have to talk in those, though.

“You really know how to put people at ease,” Nico comments. “What are you going to tell me next, that your parents are watching in the next room, ready to intervene if I ask you too much about your toilet habits?”

“They only intervene if you are unreasonably sarcastic.”

“That’s a very charming and fancy way of telling me to shut up.”

“Oh dear – tell me you aren’t one of those eat the royal folks.”

“Didn’t you run a background check on me or something?”

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t shown any of that,” the Prince admits. He shrugs. “So, uh. I don’t know much about you.”

Nico nods, and stares at the table. It’s covered by a really horrible, red and golden tablecloth. It’s exactly the type of thing Nico should have expected to find in the Palace.

“Cool,” Nico says.

“What’s cool?”

Not this tablecloth. He doesn’t say that. “Not much.”

The Prince nods. “Alright.” He clears his throat.

There’s a long, awkward silence. Nico should deal better with awkward, really. That’s all conversations ever are with him. There are stilted words, long, stretching silences. He wishes the ground would open under him.

“How much longer do I have to stay?” Nico finally asks.

“Where?”

In this hellish hole. “Here. Now. In the tea-room, I mean.”

“We should go for a walk,” the Prince says.

“Not together, right?”

“Ah.”

“I mean, no offense, but this is frankly embarrassing,” Nico says. He leans forward in his seat. “I just really need a cigarette.”

“I’ve never smoked one.”

“I really hope you aren’t trying to get one of mine.”

“I was just trying to make conversation.”

And the Prince makes a strange kind of puppy eyes, which Nico has only ever seen Hazel make. And Percy, occasionally, but his just annoy Nico to an unbelievable level.

“So, what do you do in your free-time?” Nico blurts out, hoping to erase the Prince’s eyes.

“Oh, I study,” the Prince says. “I really enjoy reading, and learning in general. I particularly enjoy Philosophy, which I usually study on my own. I have tutors, of course. Although at the moment I am having some problems with Physics. I have also tried studying French a couple of years back, but I wasn’t really good at that. It was just so horrible.”

“Learning French sucks,” Nico concedes, thinking back to his own struggles with the language. “But not as much as learning Latin.”

“You know Latin?”

Nico shrugs. He shouldn’t have said that, should he? The Prince has already said that he doesn’t know much of his background, so maybe he also doesn’t know that Nico hasn’t always been a Six. Hell, he wasn’t even always called Niccolò Jackson.

“I know Ancient Greek.”

Nico nods. “Sounds fancy.” He doesn’t say that he knows that, too.

The Prince almost seems to be having problems controlling all his energy. His finger curl and uncurl around the armrests of the chair. His gaze shifts more than once to the windows and the gardens. When Nico follows his eyes, he doesn’t see anything, though.

A bell rings, startling the Prince out of his reverie.

“It seems that our time is up,” the Prince says.

The Prince stands, and Nico does the same, giving him an even-more-than-awkward nod, and turning to leave.

“It was really nice meeting you!” The Prince continues, when Nico’s hand is already on the doorknob.

Nico turns back, to give him a tight-lipped smile, catching the Prince empty the mug of tea out of the window. It startles a laugh out of him. The Prince turns, his eyes widened at having been caught in the act. His cheeks dust in red, and it only makes Nico laugh harder.

“So you aren’t poisoning yourself with thirty-five cups of tea, only the soil outside,” he says. “Good to know.”

“It’s considered polite to offer people tea,” the Prince replies smoothly.

Nico’s smile tightens. “Well, let me tell you, Your Highness, maybe the Twos, Threes, maybe even Fours or Fives, care about drinking tea and making small talk. Sixes and Sevens? We don’t really care whether you stuff yourself in tea and lemon cakes. Actually, most people from home would probably much rather you not waste so much food when everyone has already been served plentiful breakfast.” Nico makes a mocking wave with his hand. “With your gracious permission.”

He doesn’t slam the door behind himself, even if his cheeks are red and his ears ring. Sally should be proud of him, honestly.

#solangelo #solangelo fic #the selection au #will solace #nico di angelo

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nanagoswife · 3 years

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For You? Always.

Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Over the next months, some things happen that bring you and Ben closer

Word count: 4.2k (Sorry, not sorry)

Warnings: Implied intimacy

A/N: I introduce you all to possibly my personal favourite installment of this story...

A month and a half had gone by and it’s been amazing. There were a few nights where Ben had to stay over at Siara’s, whether it be for work or to do something with Brian, but you were already accustomed to that. Other than that, he would meet you at your office, or you at his, to walk home together.

Then, one night, he told you about the many places he often volunteers at. The top being an animal shelter.

He told you many stories of the animals, but two dogs seemed to be his favourite. Cody, a golden retriever, and Boga, a Siberian husky. Ben had told you how Boga had the most amazing blue-green eyes.

"On the topic of learning new things about each other," he suddenly said. "My name wasn't originally Ben."

Shock hit you so hard that all you could manage was yelling, "What!"

He only chuckled at your reaction, "It's true. My birth name is actually Obi-Wan." Before he continued, he met your eyes. "When my mom and I moved here, many got confused. So, I changed it to Ben," he explained.

"Well," you started, the shock easing away, "I think Obi-Wan suits you better, personally."

As you smiled at him, he gave you one back as his cheeks turned slightly red.

"Then, you may call me what you like."

The rest of that night was spent learning things about each other. It was all endearing as he told you more, especially his time in London.

- - -

One day, he took you to meet Cody and Boga who took an immediate liking to you. Ben was a little jealous as they seemed to give you more attention than him, after the initial meeting anyway.

Between the two, Boga gave you the most attention. She had taken a liking to you very quickly, and the feeling was mutual.

Cody greeted you, but quickly went to Ben. He seemed more comfortable when being close to him.

At one moment when Ben had slipped away, you asked one of the other volunteers why Ben hadn’t adopted these dogs, as he had such a close connection to them.

“Well, he wasn’t able to own more than one pet in his building, and he just couldn’t choose. We’ve taken them off of the adoption list because we hope that he can take them home one day,” they explained.

For a bit, you thought to yourself. Watching him with the two dogs, you could see the connection between them. It seemed as if they saw him as their owner even when he wasn't.

When Ben had come back, you had to ask, "Ben, what would you think about adopting Cody and Boga?"

"Are you sure?" he said in surprise.

"You practically raised these dogs, Ben. It would break my heart to see them not be with the person they admire most."

He looked to the two one year old dogs. His jaw had dropped at the knowledge that the two dogs he had raised and trained will finally be with him.

Turning to look at you, he nodded enthusiastically with a large smile across his face.

Suddenly, he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he whispered. All you could do was smile.

Ben and you signed any needed papers and got everything sorted. The shelter workers happily handed him their leashes. Almost as if he had a mental connection with them, the two dogs seemed to know exactly what had happened. Boga had been spinning in excitement with Cody jumping to rest his paws on his chest and lick Ben’s face as he kneeled.

Watching this, you couldn’t help but giggle at the shared excitement shown between them all.

Your house was perfect for all of this as well. It had a large fenced-in yard and plenty of space inside. Besides, you had been planning to get a pet of some sort for quite some time.

Attaching the leashes to each of the dogs’ temporary collars, Ben walked them to the pet-store with you to get essentials. Dog bowls, beds, toys, treats, a yellow and white collar for Cody and a swirl of turquoise and blue for Boga, and finally food and name tags.

Ben had drifted through the store swiftly as he picked out each item with great thought. The toys and collars were the most thoughtful as he picked what suited them most and looked for replicas of their favourite toys from the shelter.

When you had bought everything, you took Boga’s leash to let Ben have a better time carrying the large bag of food and beds on his shoulder while you held the bag of toys, treats, and bowls.

While you walked, you noticed how well Boga and Cody were on a leash. Obediently walking close by without pulling when taking a slight lead. No doubt, this was the work of Ben’s training. Plus, you had noticed that Boga had taken a greater liking to you. You had a feeling that you would steal away Boga from Ben quite often.

Arriving home, you let the dogs off of the leashes to let them explore their new home. You opened the back door for them so that they could come in and out as they excitedly explored every inch of the area.

“Before you ask, yes you can put the dog beds in our room,” you quickly told Ben after he placed the dog food on the floor. His smile beamed at your words.

“That would be great, but I was going to ask if we could get two more and then have them in the office and the room,” he said with slight shyness.

The thought of having company of the two new additions in those areas actually made you happier, meaning you nodded in agreement.

Before Ben turned, you added, “Let's give them blankets to lie on in the office, and the beds can be in the room.” He nodded and you went to grab a couple of blankets that you hardly used from a closet. You brought them over to Cody and Boga to let them sniff and choose which one they liked best.

To your slight surprise, they chose blankets that seemed to match their collars. Cody chose the orange-yellow while Boga chose the blue-tinted green. With their choices, you placed the blankets against the wall that was between yours and Ben’s two desks.

You had waited until the two dogs had calmed their exploration before closing the back door. Taking your place on the couch, Ben took his place on the reading chair that he inherited over the last few months. If he wasn’t there, he was right beside you, often resting his head in your lap.

By the time you got comfortable, Boga jumped up next to you and curled up. Ben was about to protest but you stopped him. Having the bright blue and green-eyed husky snuggle up next to you was sweet. Cody had taken a place beside Ben’s chair and curled up close to his feet. You could tell that Cody would be more obedient and Boga was more of the cuddling type. It made you smile at the thought.

Ben, in his mind, could tell that Boga had become your dog more than his from the moment you had met her. By the way you let her immediately take a place on the couch just solidified it. Especially when you had taken your book and absentmindedly started to pet Boga’s head.

Looking down to Cody, he met his brown eyed gaze before he rested his head on his paws close to Ben’s feet. With a small smirk, he grabbed his own book and pretended to read as his love only grew. The two dogs that were like his children were finally his to keep. No more trips to the shelter just to visit them. Sure, he’ll still go there to volunteer, but the two dogs, that had stolen his heart almost a year ago when they were born, would always be at home waiting for not only him, but you as well.

For another couple of months, you and Ben were met by the two dogs every time you came home. If the two of you went to different areas, Boga followed you and Cody followed Ben. There was a single day that it had been the opposite way around.

Some days, when Ben went to Siara’s or had to stay slightly later, the dogs had been just as excited to spend their time with you. Cody stayed on the floor by your feet and Boga took her place beside you on the couch, unless you went to the office where their blankets were. Then, at night they slept in their beds in your room.

Every morning, you got up earlier with Ben to take them on a walk. Then, you would take them on another in the park during the evenings. It gave you and Ben some quality time as well.

Now was one of the nights where he had to stay at the office with Siara for a few more hours. He told you to not wait for him for dinner as he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be. So, you made dinner for yourself and gave Cody and Boga there’s as you ate.

You had decided to wait until it got a little darker before taking them for a walk tonight so that you could see the stars. That’s exactly what you saw along with the light breeze that ruffled the leaves on the trees.

When you got back home, Ben was home and probably in the office. You could tell by the quiet music and the fact that he wasn’t sitting in the living room.

Cody and Boga rushed to the office as soon as you unclipped their leashes. After their rush, you could hear the laughter from Ben which told you that they pretty much attacked him with love. With a light chuckle, you took off your shoes and coat and joined the room of laughter.

“Hello there,” he managed to get out through the multiple licks, mainly from Cody. After a few more moments, Cody and Boga calmed down and went to the blankets. It was your turn to greet him, but with a quick kiss on the lips.

Sitting on the office chair at your desk, you asked, "How was the rest of your day?"

He took a deep breath before letting out a sigh that you could tell had a twinge of annoyance.

“Not great. Apparently, a client has gotten into a slight hitch,” Ben paused as he was trying to find the right words. The look he had in his eyes caused a small feeling of concern to creep into your mind.

“I wanted to ask before agreeing to this. They need someone to go down there for two to three weeks to help get it settled." He paused again. "Siara wanted to see if I could go,” he finished.

To his surprise, you smiled before saying, “Of course it’s okay. I mean, she usually is the one to do the travelling.” He smiled but it was more forced as his expression dropped.

“Don’t worry,” you said as you knew what he was feeling, “the three of us will be fine. I could even visit a few times if it's possible. The neighbours said they’d be more than happy to take care of Boga and Cody if needed.” At your words, you saw some of Ben’s tension ease from his shoulders as a small smile reappeared on his face, but it was short lived as he looked at the ground.

“Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have any time. The first weekend, maybe." He looked up at you, "Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Like all those months ago, I'll be ready for your call. No matter how brief it may be,” you replied.

Standing up you walked over to him and squatted next to his chair, placing your hand on his cheek. Leaning into your touch, he nodded before you placed a kiss on his cheek where his beauty mark was. He took your free hand into his and kissed the back of it, smiling as he looked into your eyes.

Seeing that he still had work to do, you stood up before asking, “When do you leave?”

“Well, today is Wednesday," he muttered to himself, "Monday.”

“We have time to plan out what will happen then. Until then, I’ll let you continue working,” you said. You gave him a quick kiss then started toward the door. Boga noticed and she followed you out the door as Cody stayed with Ben.

Ben couldn’t help but give a slight chuckle as he officially knew that Boga had very much become your dog. He couldn’t help but think he may even lose Cody to you as well, which would not bother him in the slightest as it was you.

A few days had gone by and you and Ben had a plan for while he was away. The two of you agreed to you coming to see him on the first weekend. You had found out that even your weekends would be busy with a new project that was coming up.

You had talked to your neighbours and they were more than excited to take care of Cody and Boga during that weekend. They even said that they would bring them over to their house so that they wouldn’t be too lonely throughout the day.

Tonight, as it was Saturday, you had decided to have an outing before Ben left. You hadn’t had a night like this in a while so you decided to have a later dinner and go from there. Ben wouldn’t tell you where you were going though.

All he told you was that it was a smart idea to dress up. For him, that was no problem as he always wore suits. This time though, he put on one that you had not seen before that made him even more handsome than he already was.

His jacket and pants were a darker shade of blue with lighter, parallel and perpendicular blue lines ran across it, making many faint squares over the surface. His dress shirt was still a darker blue, but just a bit lighter than the stripes on his jacket and pants. Unlike usual, his buttons were done all the way to the collar. This all made his eyes burn a more vibrant blue as you met his gaze through the mirror in the bathroom.

“Darling, you look stunning,” he said as his eyes examined the light blue of your dress that stopped just above your feet. The flowing material complimenting your form.

A blush formed on your cheeks as you clipped the necklace he gave you around your neck. Ben stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your front, resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing your cheek while slowly swaying side to side.

“And you look extra handsome in that suit. The colour really compliments your eyes,” you said as you made eye contact with him in the mirror. He straightened up and moved his hands on your shoulders, the touch gentle and calming.

“I’ll make sure to wear it more often, then,” he said before pressing a kiss into your hair and tracing small circles on your skin with his thumbs.

Turning to face him, you smiled as he offered his arm to lead you to the front door where your shoes were. Boga and Cody followed you, and you said your goodbyes after putting your shoes on and grabbing any last minute things.

Locking the door, Ben offered his arm to you again as you asked, “Will you tell me where we’re going now?” He answered that by only showing a smirk.

“You’ll have a guess once we get there.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to blindfold me once we start getting close?”

“How’d you know?” He chuckled as you gave him a sarcastic shake of your head. Well, you at least now knew that he really wanted to make this a serious surprise.

As you walked, he eventually stopped for a few moments to tie a piece of fabric around your head to act as the blindfold. To his luck, you didn’t know this area well enough to guess what restaurant he was taking you to before even arriving.

When you arrived, you heard doors open followed by, “Good evening, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Good evening, Sam. Is our table ready?”

“Of course, sir. Right this way,” Sam said, which told you that it was time to start walking again. You were so scared that there would be a step that you would place incorrectly that you found yourself clutching onto Ben’s arm tighter.

Soon, you stopped walking once again and heard Ben thanking Sam. Then, you felt Ben loosen the blindfold and let it drop away from your eyes.

At first you squinted as the light met your eyes, but it quickly cleared as you gasped from the sight. Now, you had no idea where you were, but it was breathtaking.

The table was surrounded by a red velvet curtain that met a wall that had an electric fireplace. On the table was a vase with a single rose with a couple of candles on top of a white table cloth. The area was its own small room with a black curtain acting as the door.

Noise from the rest of the restaurant was quiet, but fully drowned out by the soft music playing. The room was lit perfectly, allowing the colours of the room to show their best qualities, the table accented by the candle light.

“Have you figured out where we are yet?” Ben’s voice broke your thoughts. At first you didn’t until you saw a small logo on one of the napkins.

“Derek’s restaurant?” You knew it was, but the question came more as one asking as to why he chose this one.

Ben let out a small chuckle as he knew what you were asking.

“He told me that I should try it out one day. Since I had never tried it, I told him about our plan and he offered to set this up for us,” he explained as he met your eyes. Placing a quick kiss to your lips, he led you over to the table where he pulled your seat out and tucked it in before sitting himself.

Unbuttoning his jacket he asked, “So, what do you think?”

“It’s perfect. I knew there were VIP tables, but I didn’t know that this is what Derek meant,” you replied. This seemed to confuse him.

“Derek never showed you this area?”

Shaking your head you replied, “No. When I came here, it was part of a business meeting. The restaurant was closed for the night so we were in the main restaurant. I only knew where we were because of the napkin logo.”

Ben seemed to understand that, but was still a bit confused. You and Derek were good friends, so why he hadn’t he just given a tour of the restaurant puzzled him. He pushed it out of his mind though as he saw your smile find its way back onto your face.

Through your time, you talked, getting to know more details you haven’t learned in the last few months. He mentioned how his mother had been doing well since she fully recovered from her surgery a month ago.

When he said that, it reminded you of how you listened to his cries while you consoled him at the park. You would have never thought that you’d be in this moment then, but here you are.

You were here with the boy who you used to serve at the cafe during high school. The boy who had a silent crush on you and left for law school without a word. The man who made you feel not only safe, but truly loved. There is no one else that you wished to be with at this very moment. You love him, and he loves you.

The time went by and you hardly noticed the food being placed at the table. The two of you were wrapped up in each other's company more than anything else. Sure, you lived together, but it was moments like this that you really used the time.

When you both decided that you were done, Ben pulled out your chair and offered his arm once again. This time without being blindfolded, you walked through the restaurant doors.

On your way home Ben told you that he wanted to bring you to the park for some time. The night sky was clear and the moon was in the perfect area that it would be right in the centre of your view on the grass patch.

Arriving at the park, it was just as you had imagined. The moon, big and bright in a sky speckled with millions of sparkling stars that added to the beauty.

Instead of sitting, the two of you stood holding each other. Your head pressed into his chest as you observed the moon, his cheek resting on your hair with his face directed the same way as yours.

Tonight, there was something new. Something that you have felt before but was too afraid to act on it. Partially because of the past, partially because it was till relatively new to you and you didn't know.

When a breeze blew past you, you shivered even with the warmth of Ben’s embrace. Even though you tried to hide it, he still noticed like always.

Before he could take his coat off, your lips caught his and both of your hands pressed to the sides of his face. He brought his arms back around you, his hands resting on your hips. Pulling you closer to his warmth, he pulled away for a moment, resting his head against yours.

It seemed as if he could tell what you were suddenly feeling. That, this time, you were acting on it.

“Are you okay with this? Because I can stop if-”

You cut him off before he could start rambling, “Ben, I’m okay. Just promise to be gentle and possibly patient.”

Ben nodded, “I always will be for you.” Your lips crashed back against his, this time being more open.

Reluctantly, you had separated once again to make your way back home. Both of your paces were slightly quickened.

Unlocking your door, Ben had you in his arms after you took the key back out of the lock. Your lips locked again, built up feelings now being released. He reached behind you and opened the door, the two of you walking carefully backwards. Ben managed to close the door behind you without breaking contact.

Kicking your shoes off, you kept moving carefully backwards until your back met a wall. Your passion was still being shared until your two roommates jumped up at the two of you, causing a laugh as Ben was partially knocked off balance.

After telling them to go and lie down, he turned his attention back to you. In one swift movement, he lowered himself and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Taking a step away from the wall he placed his hands on your back to pull you closer to him.

He had to tilt his head back to kiss you as your head was now above his. Keeping his carefulness, Ben walked to your room and closed the door. Turning on the light, he let himself lean against the door.

To catch his breath, he separated from your lips. Both of you were breathing heavily and smiled at the extra glow that seemed to radiate from your eyes.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Ben asked once he caught his breath enough. "We can stop if you are."

This is one of the many reasons why you love him so much. Even with permission, he asks multiple times to determine that it really is okay.

Nodding your approval, he stepped away from the door and brought you to the edge of the bed. Gently, he let you down on the covers. Taking his jacket off, your lips meet once again, you unbuttoning his shirt.

Sitting up, you let his hands find your zipper, “Just be gentle,” you whispered again into his ear. With that, he easily complied.

Everything he did was gentle. All doubts you had up to this moment were washed away. The raging fire of the past was put out by the gentle stream that was the present. Guilt had flooded you thinking that you made him wait this long but, at the same time, it made the moment special. And he would never blame you, and doesn’t blame you for anything that had happened.

For you, he would always wait for you. No matter the reason.

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @where-fantasy-meets-reality @hopeladybug @wintersoldiersthings

#obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan fluff #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x y/n #ben kenobi #modern au #fanfic #ewan mcgregor #For You? Always.

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

The Devil’s Advocate

➜ Words: 11.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Smut, Devil!AU

➜ Summary: The devil is a lazy. selfish. bastard. He never shows up for work and forces you to take his place at the gates of Hell. But when he follows you on your vacation — you have an inkling of his intentions. After all, you are his advocate.

➜ Warnings: Implied smut, violence, killing, etc.

There’s a proverb out there that says: talk of the devil and he is sure to appear. But no matter how much you talk, curse, and wish for him to show up to his damned job — he never does. So because of him, every single day in this burning inferno eternity, you're always running. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The guards step swiftly away as you sprint past with fire on your heels — they're not unfamiliar with this sort of sight. After all, the same thing happens day in and day out. Yoongi is seated at his desk, feet propped up on the surface of said desk. He’s casually leaning back on his chair, elbow propped up on the armrest, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. “You're late.” “I know.” You’re heaving for air while balancing the pile of file folders and paperwork that goes over your head. You drop it on your desk with a massive thump that teeters the desk’s legs from the sheer force and has the people wincing. He would make another snarky comment but your deep eye bags and trembling hands are pitiful enough. “Alright.” The angel stands onto his feet again. “First person, please.” One of Yoongi's assistance in her white robes looks down at the clipboard and calls the next dead soul that's been in line. “Kim Namjoon.” Immediately, you shuffle your files to find the right one, struggling in the mess of yet another late night. In the meanwhile, the man steps up with a nervous posture, reverent with his hands folded in front of him and Yoongi reads from his own papers. “Alright. Looks like you were an academic most of your life. A very quiet existence, huh? Never married or any kids. Let's see here. Oh. You dedicated your life to research of koala birth control. A very good contribution to society. You volunteered at soup kitchens a lot too — even on the day of your death.” “I like to help people,” the man pipes up in a timid mutter. Yoongi's cat-like eyes flicker to the top of his paper, having never asked him to speak. And the glare from the angel has the man tight-lipped again. “Your history shows you were very altruistic. Looks like you can head to heaven.” “Wait!” You stand up once you finally find the right file, stopping the soul before it can take a step closer towards the glowy gates. At your rebuttal, Yoongi rolls his eyes and plops back down into his swivel chair. “Here we go again....” You hold the file up. “Kim Namjoon, you were at Imlings Street on October twenty fifth, twenty nineteen, correct?” “Y-Yes?” The deceased human swallows hard, not sure where you're going with this. But he’s undoubtedly nervous that you're speaking, after all you’re the woman in bright carmine. Namjoon looks at the angel for help but Yoongi doesn't even blink. “I worked near there.” “And you were there that night at ten?” “I-I don't remember.” “Well, you were celebrating your friend's birthday that night, right?” “Oh yeah…” His brows furrow as it slowly comes back to him. “And at some point, you were standing near the corner street near Fifth avenue, correct?” “Yes...? I suppose.” “Is it true you could see down the alleyway the restaurant called Dog World?” Namjoon pales. “Umm....” The deceased human obviously recalls why this night was significant in particular — and it seems to be a memory that he’s attempted to suppress through his entire lifetime. “Answer the question, human,” Yoongi sighs, fiddling with a pen in his cup holder. “Yes.” “And you witnessed a woman being murdered, correct?” The man nearly starts sobbing. He whimpers, and manages a slight nod. “We need you to speak, Mr. Kim.” “Yes!” he shouts, distressed. “You did nothing to stop it, right?” “I...I couldn’t!” “Well, you didn't call the police?” “I didn't.” “You just left while the woman was being murdered.” As you speak, the man starts wailing hysterically, aware of where this is going. He attempts to beg for forgiveness, but neither you nor Yoongi pay any mind. It’s always the last moments that humans are filled with regret — the moments when it matters, not the moments when it didn’t. “Are you aware that the omission to act when you have a moral duty to is a grave sin?” He hiccups, sobbing. “It is equally as bad to be a bystander as a perpetrator,” you continue. “You could've saved her.” Yoongi waves his hand. “Alright, alright. You've convinced us.” The angel spares the man from being berated and grilled, granting him at least a bit of mercy. “You're going to hell.” “No! No!” He howls at the top of his lungs, but the two guards grab each side of him and begin dragging him past you. The barbed, black gates open wide to welcome him in, creaking on their hinges, and his scream is heard echoing as he’s thrown down the red-glowing, inferno pit. You don’t know why they’re always crying — it’s kind of insulting to your home. Hell’s not that bad. “Next person!” Yoongi calls. When humans die, most of their souls rise to purgatory — an empty void of nothingness — where they stand in a single-file line waiting to get to the gates. There, the devil and an angel representative come to judge where the soul shall reside as each come up one by one. But the devil never shows up to do his job, to serve judgment to human souls. You’re his substitute. You’re the devil’s advocate. “Am I going to see you tomorrow?” It’s been a long day and you feel your eyeballs burning as you pack up the mess of your files. You’ll have to sort them again, but for now, you stuff whatever you can back into your briefcase. “No, it's my day off. Jimin'll probably be here instead.” Yoongi sips the glittering golden liquid in his chalice. Angels — always so pretentious. “Let me guess, you’ll still be here.” “Hopefully not.” There’s a small smile gracing your lips, but it’s futile. Everyone knows you’ll have to show up. The lazy devil never shows up and does his own bidding. “You’re overworking yourself, Y/N,” Yoongi mumbles in disgust as he watches you try to pile your stack of papers that’s practically teetering from side to side. “Haven’t you thought about going on vacation or something?” “Vacation?” you exhale, arms straining under the weight. His eyes light up as he remembers something. “Have you ever heard about that famous cruise? What was it again?” Yoongi looks over at his assistant and her eyes flicker up. “Sins Cruise Line,” she deadpans. He snaps his fingers. “Right. I heard it was amazing. Each day is dedicated to a deadly sin or something. Too bad they only have it in hell — makes me want to visit some time. But does the publicity live up to the name?” “How am I supposed to know?” Yoongi’s eyes dim. His excitement dies on the spot. “Of course you wouldn’t.” The angel grabs his briefcase. “Well see you some time, Y/N. I’m going to my vacation home over the long weekend.” “Goodbye, Yoongi.” He enters the gates of Heaven and disappears from sight. You go on your own way, bringing your tall files back. But his words stick to you. They’re devilishly tempting. // You’re writing away on parchment with your quill dipped with black ink, preparing more documents and affidavits. But you stop momentarily to roll your neck and ease your tense muscles. You lean back in your chair, staring around at the red room you’re in, and the tiny desk that you occupy. Across the room is the devil’s desk, large and imposing, with an uncomfortable chair across his velvet one. Though the surface has collected a thick layer of dust on the surface. “Debra!” you shout her name and the sluggish secretary comes in. She has gray hair, kitten heels clicking on the scarlet carpet, skirt past her knees. The demon woman reminds you of church-goer humans who often shout profanities at you as if they’re attempting to exorcise you while you’re just trying to make a legal case — they frequently run into Yoongi’s arms too, impressing neither you nor him. “Yes?” You set your quill down. “Have you ever heard of Sins Cruise Line?” She exhales in exhaustion. “Can’t say I have…” “Well...then. Umm, can you find me a pamphlet of theirs?” She stares and then slowly turns away from the room without acknowledgment. But the secretary eventually comes back half an hour later and slaps the rectangular papers to your desk. She turns away, returning to her front desk, and while you try to focus on your work until the next break, the temptation of the pamphlet sitting at the corner becomes too strong. You put down your quill to open it. At once, your pupils dilate. There’s a picture of the glorious red sea, the colour of crimson and a white pristine ship on it. Your indulgence is ours. How fancy. It looks like there’s a variety of facilities and lots of activities to do. It looks fantastic and your muscles are already relaxing as you look at the pictures. But you can’t…. You can’t just leave your job…. Can you?

Turns out you can — that it is in fact possible. It’s so surreal, you can’t believe that you’ve somehow managed to actually get time off, that the infamously lazy devil actually agreed to it and will come back to work so you can take a break. Now you’re standing on the harbour with your suitcase in hand, staring at the white ship in front of you. Yoongi would be proud. “Cocktail?” The worker hands one to you on his platter, and you hesitate. “Can I really?” “Of course.” He grins. “Your indulgence is our pleasure.” You hold the cool glass while stepping onto the incline to get on the ship’s deck. The chilling wind entwines into your hair and you sip the liquid, your feet afloat already. “Welcome aboard to Sins Cruise Line! Your indulgence is our pleasure!” The workers wave, giving a warm welcome with perfect smiles. You might be in Heaven. “We can show you the way to your room. What is your name?” “Y/N L/N.” One of the demon women takes a look at your ticket and smiles. “Right this way.” After a millennium of working, this is what you deserve. You’re given a short, brief tour of the massive cruise ship. “—week-long, each day to indulge in a deadly sin—” And not long after are you brought to your modest-sized ocean view room. “—canal surrounds hell. It’s quite lovely during the night when the water glows red. Have you ever seen it before?” “No, I can’t say that I have,” your voice trails off and you look at towels shaped into animals on your bed as well as the edible arrangement on your coffee table. “Wow….” “I’m glad you like it. It’s all complimentary,” the girl giggles. “I should also tell you that today is dedicated to greed. We’ll be having a gambling night down at the casino floor starting in the evening. Other than that, feel free to ask anything whatsoever. We’ll always be around.” “Thank you.” And you’re sincere about your gratitude. You’ve never experienced something like this before. You flop down onto the soft bed before getting up after a moment. There’s too much to explore, too much to see than to stay in a small space between four walls. You’ve done that enough and you find yourself quickly slipping away from your room. As you pace the area, you muse that you could potentially spend the rest of your existence on this ship, indulging like you should be, giving into temptation, living in a daze, high on bliss— “Where’s my refill?! I’ve been waiting for five minutes!” Your smile falls. Goosebumps raise all over your body. The barking voice is so familiar that it sends chills down your spine. It’s an automatic response, like a dog made on alert, and your head swivels over. Instantaneously, your eyes connect to darker ones. They’re pools of deep brown nearing black. And the corner of their plump lip tugs into a sly smirk. What the hell was the devil doing here? “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He abandons his drink on the tray of the server that just rushed over and ignores him in favour of you. The devil makes long strides across the deck towards you and when you stumble back, his smile widens into a friendlier one. Had you blinked, you would’ve missed the sparkle of dangerous mischief in his eyes. “What a coincidence.” “A coincidence?!” You’re unintentionally cowering lower than him, posture bending to his imposing aura. He looms over you with his tall height, covering you with his shadows that seems to snicker. “Course it would be. What? You think I followed you here?” That’s exactly it — you put in a note requesting time off, and when he asked where you were going via letter, you wrote it down. There’s no way that this was a mere coincidence. But you don’t dare say it out loud. “Who’s….who’s working?” He grins. Of course the first question you would ask him is about work. “I put Taehyung in charge.” “He’s not trained!” you hiss in distress, just considering the wrong things he’ll do, the trouble he’ll cause and mess he’ll make for you to clean up. But the devil man shrugs. “He’ll be fine. So what are you doing now? This is one hell of a ship, huh?” You’re in hell. You’re stuck in the middle of a canal, on a cruise ship, with no escape from Kim Seokjin. // What was supposed to be an easy vacation has turned into a nightmare. Every corner you turn, you peek from it. You slink behind pillars to scan the premise. You crawl in the shadows to— “Are you lost?” You jump from your spot, turning to find a short worker, an attendant wearing the cruise uniform while adorning a warm smile. “You scared the living daylights out of me!” you harshly whisper, holding your hand over your unbeating heart. “My apologies, ma’am. I was just asking if you’re lost. Or are you looking for the way to the casino for our gambling night?” That’s right. You’ve lost sight as to why you came here. It’s supposed to be a break, a break from your job, from your stress, from your intimidating boss that never appears at work anyways. You shouldn’t have lost focus on it. You paid a lot of gold coins to be here. “Where is it again?” “Oh, turn to your left, walk down the hall and just take the elevator to the third floor. You’ll be right there! Hard to miss.” “Thanks…” You shouldn’t waste such a good trip. Once you arrive at the floor, the intoxicating air overwhelms your senses. It’s hard to think, and the many lights blind your vision, a mosaic of colours that makes the surroundings a whirlwind. There’s the crisp sound of cards divided up, tables and roulette boards spinning, machines being pulled and coins falling out the slots. Someone hands you a drink and you grasp onto it to stay grounded. But sipping the liquid only intensifies the experience. You stand back to watch the demons play, gambling the lives of humans souls indebted to them. “I was looking for you.” A voice pipes up beside you, and you’re genuinely scared this time. The entity manifested beside you, looking straight ahead. You wonder why you even tried to run today. There’s no point. He’s the devil. “Why?” “Just cause.” Seokjin grins, turning his head to stare at you. He’s dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, black trousers tight around his thighs — he’s missing the traditional, black cape that calls attention whenever he steps into the room. “You’re my favourite little worker. So it’s nice to see you in a different setting.” You aren’t particularly amused. “Where have you been?” Seokjin shrugs. “Around.” You thought because he’d be busy with other affairs which would be understandable considering his status in this realm. But to hear such a nonchalant answer brings forth more questions to your mind. “Why haven’t you been to work?” “I don’t like work much, but you already knew that.” His eyes twinkle with playfulness and plump lips pull into yet another sly smirk. Jin’s voice moves down a pitch into a rumbling timbre. “Plus, how could I ever replace you? You’re the best at my job.” You don’t know what to say to that, so you take a sip of your drink. There’s too many questions still left unanswered, but you don’t bother asking. This is all a game to him anyways. He followed you here to pester you on your break, to ruin your chances of rest. Seokjin is truly the devil. “Let’s play a game, Y/N,” he sing-songs. “Should we bet?” “Bet what?” you ask, hesitating. It was never good to make deals with the devil. He leans in closer, overwhelming you with his aroma and blocking out the intoxicating air manufactured to create a greedy atmosphere. “If I win, I get to kiss you.” Seokjin laughs at your disgusted expression. He’s a sadist through and through. The damned devil loves seeing pain on your face. “And if you win, I’ll come back to work. How about that?” You don’t get a chance to answer before you’re brought over to the poker table. The two of you play a long game, lifting your cards for only your eyes, pupils flickering up to meet his and trying to read his expression. But you should’ve known. He’s too good at bluffing. He’s the devil after all. And he always wins. “A deal’s a deal and you made a deal with the devil.” Seokjin wolfishly smiles when the pair of you join together again and he taps his pink, plush lips with a single finger. Everything about him is made to tempt others — from his clear skin to his eyes shining with endless greed. There’s a gravitational pull that comes from his perfect exterior. He’s a marble sculpture made from the gods’ temptations. But you don’t feel seduced as you do feel burdened. “I never agreed to it, did I?” The devil’s brow quirks and he bursts out laughing. “Now that’s not fair.” “No, but it is true.” You walk away before he can put his mouth on you and above the coins clicking, the machines being pulled, you hear the smirk in his voice. “What a sore loser.” Seokjin is good at reminding you that you’re in hell. // The next morning, there’s a loud knock at your door. “Room service! Good morning, Miss Y/N.” The worker wheels the whole cart in, and your eyes are wide with what he presents you. There’s more edible arrangements, platter of fruits and vegetables and a whole stack of pancakes. “I hope I didn’t awake you from any sleep.” “Oh no, it’s fine.” The girl beside him clasps her hands together and presents you with a paper package, including advertisements, directory maps, and all the things you need for the day. “Today is wrath day. There will be an anger room where you can beat and smash things until you’re content. Also at noon, there will be human souls up on the top deck that you can freely torture. We collected the scum of the pit and don’t worry, they’ll be disposed there as well.” “There’s also a complimentary hate letter you can write to the person you most despise,” the demon boy exclaims with a happy grin. “We won’t send them,” the girl clarifies. “Don’t worry. We burn them in a pit of fire, but hopefully it can ease some of your anger.” You thank them for their services and they bow their heads, taking their leave. For the first little while, you chew on some breakfast and go through the package. None of the activities seem particularly appealing to you, but you keep an open mind, deciding to head up to the main deck afterwards. And of course, Seokjin is taking full advantage of the activities. There’s a blood-curdling scream. “Arrow, please.” His palm is out and the worker places another arrow in the devil’s hands. Seokjin positions and fires again, piercing the human in the shoulder, pinning him against the wooden wall. There’s another scream that makes you wince from the sheer volume. It’s like he’s playing darts. There are screeches everywhere, pain felt but the humans unable to die. Seokjin catches sight of you as you’re looking around. “Y/N!” He waves over with an enormous grin. “Come join me.” “Thank you, but I’d rather not,” you politely decline. He shakes his head in feigned disapproval, yet continues to draw his bow when another arrow is handed to him. “You’re too uptight. You’re always dealing with souls, don’t you want to play with one?” “I work with so many souls, I’d rather not have to deal with them on my down time.” “You always have rebuttals, don’t you?” Seokjin muses, mostly to himself, and then smiles. “But fair enough.” You step by his side, watching him fire yet another arrow to the human that’s already died. You must admit, the screams are kind of delightful. You turn to watch a demon rip apart someone’s limbs and dangle it in front of them, another throwing someone off the ship into the red canal. And you overlook one of the humans in their pen glaring right at you. He recognizes you. You’re the one who dragged him here, who judged his soul and deemed him evil enough for hell. He screams and jumps from his pen, escaping the railings with the vigour of a vengeance boiling for an eternity. He swipes a knife from the table of weapons. There are gasps of workers. Demons that turn. Seokjin’s eyes harden. His arm drops, bow by his side. You look down. The blade of the knife is poking through your abdomen, the tip of it exposed on the other side and shining from the little light of the overcasted red sky. “You brought me here! Demon! Witch! You—” “You know I can’t die, right?” you interrupt with half a glare, more annoyed than anything. You pull the blade out of you and the metal clangs on the wooden deck. The workers rush over and five of them apprehend the screaming human to chuck him overboard. There’s a loud splash in the canal and others rush to your side, fussing about and apologizing. “Were you not watching them?!” Seokjin shouts with the true wrath of the devil. “We are so sorry, we sincerely apologize for any inconvenience.” “I’ve never seen such an unprofessional group in my entire existence!” he barks back at them. You watch him and sigh. Seokjin is baffled beyond belief, berating the workers for not being careful enough, for not securing the pen. He yells at them to clean up the mess, making an absolute ruckus. When his anger simmers down, he turns around, about to ask if you’re alright. But unfortunately you’re gone. You’ve escaped, vanished out of thin air. // Angry? You used to be angry a lot but then the futile emotion became crushed by the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. After a millennium, you’re too stressed and tired to be angry. Being angry took too much energy. You retire to your room early, just before dinner, and while you’re wondering if you should rest, your eyes catch the open letter on the vanity. You contemplate for a while before you finally decide to sit down. You grab the quill and dip the tip into the pot of ink. Never has it been easier to write a letter. A letter of hatred towards the devil, Kim Seokjin. It’s been known that the lazy devil makes your life harder than need be. He draws attention in ways you don’t want it to be drawn. He’s never there when you need him and there when you don’t. He’s a lazy bastard who never gets work done. Who always pours endless tasks on your shoulders for you to bear. Who never shows up to work. Who never appreciates anything you have to do. He’s sick and sadistic, ego bigger than his own head. Seokjin is a pathetic leader. It feels good to write it out, to put your thoughts onto paper. The ink stains the parchment quickly, curves and loops of your letters smooth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you finish and lick the envelope closed, wrapping it up. He’ll never see it, but it was pleasant to put your anger on tangible material. It’s liberating. And for a brief period, you feel less stressed. You toss the hate letter aside for pickup.

The worker hums to himself, sack in hand that’s heavy and filled with letters ready to be tossed and burned. He’s had a long day of working and this was his last job before he can rest. But once he exits your room, he’s suddenly stopped in the hallway. “Mr. Kim.” He recognizes him like everyone else. Once they heard the devil was arriving, they made sure to iron their dark blue uniforms and ensure things were in tip-top shape. The devil beckons him over once with his hand. “I’d like to see Miss Y/N’s letter.” “I...I’m sorry, I can’t do that. That’s against policy. We assured all guests that they are entitled to their own privacy and, uh, that would be going against the rules.” “Rules?” His gaze darkens, becoming cold. Seokjin reminds him, “I’m the devil.”

When you open the door to your room, shivers crawl up your skin, traveling down your spine. You flicker on the light to discover someone seated in the armchair in the corner of the room. Their broad backside faces you. “I wish you would know how much you stress me out.” He pauses and exhales thoughtfully. “When you’re around me, you stress me out. When you’re not around, you stress me out. I think you truly make hell hell, so congratulations for at least doing one job correctly.” Mortified is an understatement. You’re frozen in your spot. The door closes behind you from the momentum. You’re trapped in a room with him, and the devil turns his head to greet you with a smile. Your letter is open in his hand. “I’m surprised, Y/N. I knew you didn’t like me, but I didn’t know you hated me so much.” He puts it down, slowly rises to his feet and closes the distance between your physical bodies within three strides. “But if you felt so strongly about me, you should’ve said something.” Seokjin corners you in your small room until your back is pressed against the surface of the door. “If I felt strongly or not, why should I tell you?” you ask, voice unintentionally shaking. Even in such a moment, you’re still playing devil’s advocate. It makes him smirk. “Because I’d like to know.” He’s close to you, aura heavy and imposing. Seokjin doesn’t touch you but you can feel him. And strangely enough, he doesn’t punish you in the way you think he would for thinking such ill thoughts of him. “You still owe me that kiss. You can kiss me hard if you want — to try to relent your anger and what was it again? Oh yeah, tell me what a pathetic leader I am.” Your eyes meet his — yours stern, but his softened. Despite Seokjin’s greased words, he steps back and you move out of the way. He reaches for the door knob. “You weren’t supposed to read it,” you mutter before he can leave. “Are you…” “Angry?” There’s a ghost of a tender smile on his features. He doesn’t look at you. He simply sighs. “No, I’m not.” The male opens the door, but lingers. He decides to grace you with the profile of his beautiful visage. “Earlier. When you stabbed. Are you okay?” “I, uh, I’m fine.” “Good.” // The following day is dedicated to gluttony. All over the cruise ship are demons feasting, eating, drinking, consumption galore. The banquet hall is vast with a table stretching across the space — every inch of the surface covered in luxurious dishes. The floor is also soaked with wine, the liquid that haphazardly splashed over the rim of demons’ glasses. It’s hard to resist eating and drinking copious amounts when the gravity quite literally pulls you in. And Seokjin finds you there, leaning on the wall, hand glued to your glass, intoxicated enough not to jump when you see him. “I never took you for a drinker.” He wears an amused smile as he takes your sloppy form in. “On the contrary.” You wave a finger in the air. “Why didn't you take me as a drinker?” “That doesn't make any sense.” You eye him with a slight pout. “Why aren't you drinking?” Seokjin shrugs and looks around. “These childish spells don't affect me.” “Psh. Don't act like you're better 'cause you're the devil.” “But I am better because I'm the devil.” He smirks. “Stronger. Resistant. Handsomer.” “Handsomer's not a word. ‘t's more handsome.” “You're fun at parties.” “Hey, it's my job.” You sigh, trying to reason with him. “My job that you gave me. I just gotta play the devil's advocate.” Seokjin smiles, a puff of air leaving his nose. He leans on the wall beside you, looking out and you take the chance to blatantly stare at him, openly ogling. You muse that he almost looks...normal like this. Well, as normal as demons can get. He’s not so imposing. “Are you sad?” “What?” “I wanted to ask if you were sad, not mad. Over my letter.” “Pft. Sad? I don't get sad. I'm the devil,” he declares as if you need to be reminded. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad,” you huff, “Then you're not hurt?” “Not really.” The devil lolls his head to the side, peeking at you when you keep staring at him. “I'm already hated by many in every realm. I thrive off the hatred.” His eyes glimmer with mischief and he leans down to connect his eyes with you at the same level. His breath is on your skin, so close that you can see his lashes one by one. But you don’t move away or lean back as you usually would. Your interest is piqued. The corners of Seokjin’s plump lips pull. In the chaos of the masses eating and devouring food like monsters, there’s a private, intimate moment tucked away in the corner of the banquet hall where it’s just you and him. “It's not like I don't deserve it anyways. I'm not a 'good' entity. Since when did the devil help anyone?” “Since when did the devil need to help anyone?” you ask on impulse. It’s become your pure instincts to doubt everything told to you. “Since when did anyone need help?” “You're right.” Seokjin grins wolfishly. “But the alternative of hatred is love anyways, and that's sickening.” There’s a second of silence. And then you burst out laughing. Seokjin whips his head over, watching the sound leaving your lips. “I should bring you love then, just to make you suffer then,” your words slur as you poke his shoulder. “But knowing you, you'd probably enjoy suffering too because you're that sick and twisted.” The corners of his mouth tugs into yet another smile as a light scoff leaves his throat. The devil can’t love, but what he feels towards you is what he thinks is pretty damn close to it. // The day that follows if focused on envy. The workers greet you with another package of activities to do and a promise that they can get you one thing you’ve always wanted, if it’s within their abilities. But you don’t know what to tell them. You end up loitering around for most of the day, checking facilities and eating, walking around until night falls where you head down to the luxurious bar, drawn in by the blue lights and entrancing music. Halfway through nursing a drink at the counter, someone slides up on the stool next to you. It’s not the person you were anticipating unfortunately. Wait. Unfortunately? You wonder why you automatically thought it was unfortunate. You momentarily ponder why you were filled with a brief emotion of disappointment when it wasn’t the person you expected. “Hi, I was just sitting across the bar, but I couldn’t help coming over and telling you that you look stunning in that dress.” It’s a demon with doe eyes and a boyish smile. He makes you look down at yourself to inspect the rather simple number — compared to the layered robes you often have to show up in for the judgment process, this was just a floor length dress, black and sleek with one sleeve and the other side off the shoulder. “Thanks.” “I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He puts out his hand and you shake it after a short pause. “L/N Y/N.” “Sounds familiar,” he hums, red eyes piercing through yours. The demon plasters on a grin. “Do I know you from somewhere?” “Probably not.” “You’re right. I would’ve remembered someone so beautiful.” The grease reminds you of that someone you thought would have appeared by now, but the stranger isn’t as smooth when he says the one-liners. It doesn’t sound as pleasant to the ears. “Can I buy you a drink, Y/N?” “Um…” “Sorry, I’m already buying her one.” Another voice pipes up — the person you were unknowingly waiting for finally manifested himself. Kim Seokjin appears with his hair pushed back, forehead on full display, dressed in another one of his dress shirts with sleeves rolled up and casual trousers deliciously tight around the thighs. His pink, plump lips quirk into a smile as he looks at you. Meanwhile, Jungkook visibly pales. “Oh. Sorry, I, I didn’t know she was, uh, um…” The stranger recognizes you now. With you beside the devil, he recalls where he’s seen you before. You’re the devil’s advocate. “Yeah, why don’t you get lost?” Seokjin moves his head to the side and Jungkook slides off the stool so quickly, he almost loses footing and falls flat on his face. Luckily, he catches himself and you watch him sprint away practically with his tail caught between his legs. What a shame. “He was nice.” “I bet he was,” he mutters, glaring at the fleeting demon’s backside with a force that could light the entire place aflame. “Kind of cute too.” You turn your head to look back at Seokjin. You’re not sure why it’s so fun to aggravate him at the moment. Maybe you realized it’s a way to get under his skin. “You didn’t have to scare him off.” “Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten scared so easily,” he refutes and it’s a rather good point. Jin orders a drink, getting served immediately. He sips on it and peeks at you through the rim of his glass. “Were you going to reject him or were you planning on getting his room key?” “Does it matter?” Your elbow is to the counter, chin casually rested in your palm. You’re discreetly challenging him and it’s a dangerous game, but one you feel like playing tonight. “Shouldn’t I be enjoying myself to the fullest extent, Seokjin?” His brow quirks at how you call him by his name directly. “I don’t like people associated with me playing with sub-par trash. It makes me look bad.” “Or it makes you look inclusive.” The devil scoffs. “You always have a way to argue, don’t you?” “It’s my job.” He hums a low note and redirects his gaze at you. “Want to go outside for a breather?” “I don’t think hell’s air is very fresh, but sure.” The two of you try to exit the noisy bar. You struggle to weave through the crowd of sweaty demons dancing and grinding on one another. But then Seokjin grasps your shoulder tenderly and shifts you to walk behind him. You realize that the mass of demons splits when he walks through. Even in their inebriated state, they know to cower down and move out the way. Once it’s clear, you open the west-side door and enter a quiet area absent from any other entity. It’s easier to breathe out here, silent, and you lean against the ship’s railing to watch how the canal’s water glows a deep crimson hue. The ship moves through it, and you listen to the noise of the water sloshing against the side of the ship. When your head tilts up, you stare at the mahogany sky nearing black. “I heard the human realm was really beautiful. Apparently they have something called stars and it appears at night. They’re tiny but they twinkle. Have you heard of them?” He doesn’t respond, but he lifts his hand and waves his palm up. Suddenly, the sky is blanketed in complete black. The shade bleeds throughout, sweeping across the horizon, and you furrow your brows unable to understand what he’s doing. But as you stare, tiny sparkles become apparent. “They’re only an illusion, but it’s the best I can do,” he breathes out. Your eyes are wide and you glance at him. “I….I love it….” “Good.” Seokjin grins when a smile expands across your face. The stars gleam like jewels spilled across the canvas — what you’ve heard and read about for so long finally in front of you. They sparkle from the distance, glittering, and the longer you stare, more appear. The entire horizon soon becomes filled with them, and you’re breathless. It’s a shame only you and Seokjin can view them. “Are you seeing this?” You hold your hand out, trying to gesture. The more you stare, the more it sinks in just how spectacular this feat is. You’ve only ever seen the sky black, red, and maybe a shade of azure when you reach the in-between of the gates of Heaven and Hell. You’re seeing stars for the first time and it’s more amazing than you thought was possible. “Holy hell!” “Not sure how hell could be holy,” Seokjin laughs and stares at you with a smile. “Do you really like it this much? You’re so simple. I could’ve done this ages ago.” “I didn’t know…..” “You could’ve asked.” “Yeah, but you never answer me anyways when I call,” you murmur without thinking twice, unaware of how his gaze on you softens. Your hands against the railing tighten and you exhale. But eventually, you focus again when it occurs to you such a long stretch of silence has passed in comfortable silence. “What did you request today? Did they fulfill any of your wishes?” Seokjin leans against the railing and tilts his head to stare at you. “I asked for something they can’t give me.” You meet his intense eyes, wondering what he means. The corner of his plump lips pulls and he blinks, easing. “What did you ask for?” “It’s also something they can’t give to me.” “What is it?” “Your job.” The devil chuckles, head lolling up to look at you. “Why would you want that? Don’t you hate working for me?” “Exactly. I hate working for you. I’d rather take over. I would restructure the entire system, I’d delegate more duties, lessen my own workload, I’d be able to prepare better instead of working so last minute.” “Sounds like you have a whole plan.” “I may or may not have spent a lot of time thinking about it,” you hum in slight pride. Seokjin grins and shakes his head. “Too bad the position at the gates is a traditional, symbolic role. The only way you’d be able to acquire it officially through proper tradition is becoming the devil’s lady.” You know it too. Thought about it after a millennium and damned the rules that restricted your abilities so many times. The only way to claim his position completely was to wed to him and be named the devil’s lady. But it’s an absurd idea, one you never even thought twice about. Although, for some reason, the way the devil says it isn’t like he’s stating a plain, boring fact. It’s almost as if he’s….considering it. Seokjin leans in close. His eyes are not unlike the stars, twinkling with mischief. “Don’t tempt me.” // The next day that comes is your absolute favourite. It’s what you’ve been prepared for. When the workers knock on your door with the usual room service and daily package, you’re ecstatically tearing papers apart and reading all the descriptions, ready to take full advantage of all the activities included. After all, it’s a day of sloth — a day of guaranteed relaxation. You start off by laying in bed the entire morning, lazing around until you head to the spa. There you get a head to toe scrub, hair and nails done, and you nap in the steam room. The masseuse is also surprised at the number of knots in your muscles and three demons end up working on you, slapping and massaging your tense muscles. Once you’re finished, you feel like you’re floating on air. For the first time in a thousand years, you’re stress-free. Nothing could ruin your mood. Not even Kim Seokjin. You head up to the deck for another nap, claiming a lounge chair in the corner, and being as quiet as possible to not disturb other demons sleeping away. But before you can drift off, the warm light on your skin ceases. You feel a shadow overtop of you. And you slide your sunglasses down the slope of your nose. The devil looms over your body with a smirk. “Looks like someone’s been enjoying themselves.” You sit up and instantly pull him down to sit beside you. Jin’s brows are lifted in surprise from the affectionate invitation. You grin at him. “Have you been down to the spa yet?” “No.” “Hell, you need to go down there right now then. It’s. Amazing. Jin.” From your sheer excitement, he grins and you giggle. Giggle. Now that’s a sound he hasn’t heard from you before. Seokjin can’t help but wonder what other sounds you can make. “You need to go to try it and get the Swedish massage. Can’t say the Shiatsu massage is as good. But try out the deep tissue one. That was good too.” “How many massages did you have today?” “I tried all of them,” you sing-song and sit back in your lounge chair, humming to yourself. You inspect your clean nails, the french tips done, holding your hand out in front of you. Seokjin smiles as he looks at you. You’re so much happier and relaxed. You in your little swimsuit and your translucent, silky cover up. “What else did you do?” “Got my hair washed. Got my nails done. Got two kinds of facials. You should just check it out for yourself, seriously, it would be a waste if you didn’t.” Suddenly, your eyes light up over the rim of your dark sunglasses. “Should we go together?” His plump lip pulls. “You want to go to the spa...with me?” He’s the entity you hate the most. To be given such an invitation from you is no less shocking. But you don’t seem to care. You even laugh and swat at his arm playfully. “We can go together after I take my nap. It’s all day and I really want to get the hot stone massage again.” “Okay.” He laughs. The devil’s not a very spa-kind of man, but he’ll go with you. “We can head down in an hour.” You lay back again, eyes fluttering for a shut-eye, but you keep them open to look at him for a second longer. “Do you want to sleep with me?” “Careful how you ask that question.” He smirks slyly, making you scoff. “You know what I mean.” Seokjin hums a low note, considering something else. “Do you want to watch a show tonight? They’re putting on something in the theater.” “Really? Sure!” You joyfully agree, so easily at it too, cheeks inflated with your smile. He snorts at how fast you answered. It’s such a difference from your tense self. Not to mention, you’re unbothered with him sitting there at the end of your lounge chair as you drift off and he observes how you’re snoring a minute later. You don’t realize that an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, and he’s ready to have some fun with you. // There’s a permanent skip in your step. You’ve learnt to navigate the entire area of the spa and you don’t notice how everyone is intimidated with Seokjin here. Even when he’s comedically dressed in a white robe, white towels wrapped up on his head, and feet decked out with white slippers — white from top to bottom as if he’s wearing the skin of an angel. Each demon moves out of the way when they realize the devil is here. But he pays no mind to them, following after you. You, who looks like a true angel with how you smile and how radiant you shine in pure white….. Although the exterior is a bit ruined when you bark at the masseuses to dig into your muscles harder. You’re even more giddy after you take your third nap in the steam room and he enjoys dinner with you. It’s hard not to when you’re such great company, and you don’t seem to bat a lash when you glue yourself by his side, joining him to watch the evening show. It’s a game show of some sort, couples on honeymoons together and answering trivia questions about one another. Seokjin sits beside you, a bit bored as he rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the arm rest. His mind wanders before he finds himself glancing over at you. You seem to be enjoying yourself and that’s enough for him to sit through it. He wonders what it takes to make you happy like this all the time. But eventually his train of thought is interrupted when he catches your eye, when he notices you peeking at him at the corner of your vision, trying to glance at him. His lip tugs into another smirk. Seokjin leans in close. “Y/N.” He whispers your name into your ear, hot breath skimming on your skin, and he watches the way goosebumps raise over the back of your arms. He pauses for added suspense. And then he exhales. “You can kiss me if you want. I wouldn’t stop you.” An immediate frown forms, your lips lopsided, your entire body stiff again. That’s all that’s needed to make you tense again — it’s so easy that it’s amusing. He laughs quietly at your glare. One of these days, he knows you’ll give into his outlandish idea. Seokjin just can’t help planting the seed there. // Right after your favourite day is your least favourite. Lust. You’re shaken awake in the morning by a sudden bang. It comes from the room next over despite the walls supposedly being soundproof. You would think someone was being tortured or punching the wall over and over again, but what follows the noises that are loud enough to leak through are moans and whines of ‘harder’. You are sorely not impressed. “There’s an orgy party tonight,” Seokjin tells you, crowding beside you at the breakfast buffet. It’s hard to ignore the smacking sound of kissing occurring behind the food bar and it makes the food unappetizing. “I heard.” “Are you coming?” “I don’t know.” “You should.” “Why?” you question his insistence. “I would explain to you what I’ve heard about it, but it would be a...mouthful.” Seokjin fully intends the pun, irises sparkling with mischief. You feign a glare at him, and he follows you to a table, sitting across from you. The devil digs into his sweet stack of waffles, and tears his teeth into a medium rare steak. “You’re gross.” “It’s not gross if you feel the same way.” “Who said I do?” “Who says you don’t?” he challenges, bringing your lips into a smirk. The two of you banter back and forth, and you don’t realize that you’re having breakfast with him willingly. That you’re tucked into the corner of the restaurant serving leftovers from the feast from the day of gluttony. You’ve both fallen into a natural course, fallen in line with one another unconsciously. It’s too easy to be in each other’s presence. But eventually you part ways, and it’s difficult to weave your way out of the bodies pressed together. Guests are practically dry humping one another and the workers are actively encouraging the lust. You guess this is what they mean by indulging in the sins. You retire to your room early to escape the scandalous sights. But your sanctuary is interrupted with a knock on the door. “Good afternoon, Miss Y/N.” The worker greets you, holding onto a clipboard like a door to door salesman. “Is there something I can help you with?” “We were just wondering if you were going to attend tonight’s event. We’d like to know about how many people are coming so we can accommodate them properly.” “Oh.” "If you are to attend, we have complementary masks to wear." The worker smiles, cheeks rosy. A masquerade orgy isn't appealing to you. But your thoughts stray to a certain someone who asked you if you were coming this very morning. Someone with dark hair and dark eyes staring into yours. Someone whose plump lips always pulls into that sly smirk and makes you feel a certain kind of way. "Sure." Why not. You came here for new experiences after all. "Fantastic!" The worker exclaims and gestures down the hall. You hear wheels rolling against the carpet and a girl appears with a cart showing a selection of masks. "Feel free to choose whatever is appealing. We also have a catalogue you can order from for free if none of these are to your satisfaction." You look over them, from the intricate designs in gold and red, to those decorated with jewels and ribbons, and ones delicately painted. But one in particular catches your attention. "This one’s fine." You pick the black lace mask, one that's simple but sufficient. The night arrives sooner than expected. The sky turns a shade of deep mahogany without a moon or sparkle in sight, clouding the horizon over in uncertainty, while the canal glows a hue of rose. You enter the ballroom on the fourth floor in a black floor length dress, a slit on your left side to top of your thigh. Others seemed to be dressed even more luxuriously, while some of them are already nude and their clothing littered on the ground. The room is a circular space, ceiling high with paintings of angels on it — ironically to overlook the sinning. The columns spiral high, decorated with gold and made from shiny porcelain like the floor tiles. Slow music plays in the background, accompanying the soft smacking noise of mouths colliding. There are also chaise lounge chairs off to the side, curtains drawn to cover the private areas. But the shadows and silhouettes show they’re doing something less than decent. There are three or four people participating behind the curtains, those participating, those watching, those that like to be watched. You even catch moans and whimpers as you pass by. By oddly enough, instead of disgusted, you feel entranced. Suddenly someone’s warm arm slinks across your abdomen, rough hands that find purchase on your waist. You gasp as your ass is shoved against their hardening groin. Their other hand palms the meat of your ass. And you find yourself giving in, leaning closer to the body heat that feels like cozy flames. You turn around, meeting brown, doe eyes behind a white mask. You swallow your mouthful of saliva. Their lips look so soft, irresistible. You surrender without an ounce of self-control, this time to the temptation. The man leans in as well— But then you’re suddenly yanked away by another. The spell breaks. “Buzz of. This is mine.” It’s a familiar voice, a sonorous tone but rumbling timbre. The doe-eyed man nods wordlessly and stumbles back into the crowd. “Jin?” Where he’s encircled your wrist, you can feel how his skin is warmer than the stranger’s, like a fire is burning underneath his flesh. Behind the black mask, with tiny sparkles that remind you of the stars, are eyes you recognize — dark pools like chocolate, full of indulgence. Instantly, he lets you go. “I’m sorry…” You’re bewitched by him. And you cave into the magnetizing pull. You latch onto him before he can leave. “You shouldn’t have any reason to be sorry.” The devil meets your gaze. Everything about him is to lure and entice you, meant for you to indulge in. From the pinkness and plumpness of his lips, to his eyes that are shaped soft and sheepish. His sculpted face, his scent, the sound of his voice... The devil would never come to such an event to get himself dirty with lowly demons. His hubris is much too high to be touched by strangers. He’s here for a specific purpose — and you think you know what it might be, or rather, for who. “There’s a reason you’re here, right?” Seokjin knows you well too, knows that you don’t like to be touched by strangers. His mouth pulls into a smile. “Do you have the same reason as I do?” You grasp onto the collar of his fitted suit, lust overwhelming you. He stares at your mouth through half-lidded eyes, his own parted. “I...don’t want this to affect my job,” you murmur, breath already on his. “It’s going to affect it either way. You’ve stopped being just my advocate long ago.” His large hands hold your hips. “Why do you think I always skip out on my duties? I have to make sure not to come and replace you. I need a reason to keep you around.” “You bastard.” The puzzles you had finally click into place. The dots connect. It makes sense, more than it ever has. “I know.” “You’re a selfish prick. But one I still owe a kiss to.” Finally after a millennium, you relinquish your dignity and fully indulge in Kim Seokjin. You dance with the devil, mouth pushing against his. Immediately, he deepens it, slipping his hot tongue in to claim you as his. Seokjin makes your lips swell as he kisses you hungrily. Sinfully. He savours your muffled groan as you feel yourself wrapping in the heat that emanates off his body, drowning in his scent. The devil’s lips are of velvet, addicting, and you can’t stop. You’re too frantic to notice that his eyes are still half-lidded, drinking in your pleasured expression. But in the middle of the kiss, you sense someone else’s presence. Your eyes peel back to see a female stroking her hands over his broad shoulders. You break apart with a forceful smack, thin string of saliva breaking. “Fuck off,” you spit at her. The female demon doesn’t hear you. Her hands slowly trail downwards to the thick lump forming in his tight trousers. But Seokjin catches her wandering palms before she can actually touch him. He throws her arms off him. “You heard her. You’re not invited.” She openly scoffs, and rolls her eyes before walking away. You won’t let third parties in. You won’t let anyone else touch him. You’re too selfish and greedy to do so. “Let’s get out of here.” Seokjin locks his hands in yours, and you’re finally able to revel in how he looks in his fitted suit, how broad his shoulders are, the thickness of his thighs. Even when you leave the ballroom, the lustful atmosphere never lessens. Instead, the suspense builds. The tension becomes overwhelming. It’s awkward to stand in the elevator and listen to the boring jazz, suffocating in the small space. The heat is tangible. You end up tackling Seokjin against the wall. You kiss away his laugh by shoving your tongue down his throat. It’s obscene but you don’t care much for your pride at the moment. “I won’t be seen fornicating in the elevator,” the devil scolds in a low tone, peeling you away after another ravenous make out session, his grip having been tight on your thigh. “Come on.” Seokjin leads you to his floor, and the door automatically opens when he steps in front of it. The lust is instantly exchanged for amazement. His suite room is breathtaking, private windows allowing a wide view of the red canal and the horizon. It’s an open space with many rooms, a luxurious bathroom and enormous bed. Like his own personal home. “This….this….h-how much does this even cost?!” “Does it matter?” Seokjin loosens his tie. He chuckles watching you run around, checking all the rooms and inspecting the furniture. “I would’ve invited you sooner, but I didn’t want to get slapped.” You scoff in the other room, and he follows after you. “You know I can’t slap you.” “Yeah, but you always look like you want to.” “Just cause I want to, doesn’t mean I can or will do it.” “Alright, enough of this chit chat.” Seokjin picks you up from where you’re marveling at his closet. He heaves you up and over his shoulder, carrying you across his suite and he lightly tosses you onto his soft mattress. The devil corners you. He grabs your ankle when you playfully try to escape and he climbs on top of you, straddling your waist to trap you in place. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers as he relishes the way you’re pinned beneath him. You cock your head to the side. “Really? I think if you were waiting for that long, you would’ve done something about a century ago.” Seokjin sighs at how you’re trying to pick an argument with him even in such a situation. “Love, if you don’t stop trying to pick fights with me, I’m going to gag you with your own underwear.” You would nod and be obedient. But it’s intrinsic for you to doubt. Instinctively, the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Why are you assuming I have underwear on?” A muscle in his cheek twitches. Seokjin flips you over, and instantaneously delivers a slap to the meat of your ass. You moan, arching into him, but you quickly turn your head with a frown. “What was that for?!” “You know what it’s for,” Jin barks. “It’s going to be a long night if you don’t listen to me, Y/N.” The devil follows through with his word. It indeed becomes a long, long night. It’s too delicious to see his irritation. How his ears can turn into a shade of scarlet that matches the colour rising from his neck to his forehead. But you bend to his will after a while, giving into his command. It’s the most sinning you’ve done. The most indulgent you’ve ever been. Seokjin’s sweat drips on top of you before it’s your sweat on him when you get on top. He’s merciless, leaving bruises along your thighs from his tight grip and where he kept your legs spread. He leaves blue, purple, red marks along the column of your neck. You sink down on his cock enough times that your cunt stretches out to match his girth and length into a perfect, snug fit. And you get to know the flavour of each other’s spit and cum until it’s all you can taste. You’re glad no one shares Seokjin’s walls or else they’d hear the way your voice grows hoarse over the course of the night. They’d hear the creak of the bed, the slamming of the headboard. Anyone on the same floor would hear your name groaned through those beautiful lips licking into you. You’re sure if there was another level to hell or damnation — you and Seokjin will be arriving there in each other’s arms. // The last day of the cruise finally arrives and you’re devastated. Tomorrow, you’ll return to work and continue the cycle of late nights preparing documents and affidavits and judging human souls in line at purgatory only for them to scream obscenities at you no matter what gate they end up entering. Your train of thought is interrupted by a knock on the door. “G-Good morning, Miss. Y/N!” The male worker jumps, surprised to discover you answering the door. “I didn’t think you’d be in your room.” “Where else would I be?” you deadpan. The female demon worker smiles and steps forward. “We have room service for you!” You widen the door and they wheel the cart in. “We just wanted to ask about your stay here and if there were any concerns whatsoever.” “Oh no.” You bat your hand. “It was absolutely lovely. Thank you for the past seven days. It couldn’t have gone better.” “That’s great to hear.” They grin and gesture to the pamphlet placed with your meal. “We’d also like to mention that there’s a honeymoon package and an express cruise that travels to all three realms, hell, heaven, and human. It’s just a promotion. I thought I’d mention it.” You laugh, nodding. “Okay, thank you.” “There’s one event left. A farewell party for tonight for all guests on this trip.” You receive the invitation. Today’s a day of pride and in its celebration, the cruise has a farewell ceremony where they read each guests’ accomplishments. It’s a sweet gesture, perfect to top off the trip. But you can’t fully look forward to it when you’re plagued by your thoughts. You still haven’t decided if last night was a mistake, if it was just the lust in the air. Seokjin was insatiable, that much was clear, and you swear you feel permanently hot in your face. The in between of your legs still ache whenever you move. It’s impossible to try to forget or disregard what occurred. And when you’re unable to cover up his marks all over your neck, you find yourself deciding to wear it with pride. You wonder how he feels about last night too. If the devil simply likes to spoil his advocates. But your questions are answered when you see him again at the party. “Evening.” “Good evening.” You raise your wine glasses up at one another in mutual acknowledgment before turning to watch the room. The pair of you are tucked in the corner again as if you were the hosts and everyone else were guests in your domain. The silence broken by him. “It was...regrettable that you ran out so soon this morning.” You agree. “It was regrettable, but it’s the right thing to do.” “You think with your head too much sometimes,” Seokjin muses. “Jeon Jungkook,” the worker on stage announces into the staticy mic. “He has tricked twenty four humans into giving their soul to him.” There’s a collective ‘ooh’ from other workers and a loud applause. “He works in marketing and coworkers call him proactive!” They allow every guest to indulge in their own pride and you don’t expect much as you watch, but then your name is called. “The devil’s advocate, L/N Y/N.” “Persuasive and diligent. In her existence thus far, she’s captured two hundred forty three souls before working for the devil where she’s passed judgment for eighty six hundred thousand sixty six human souls,” they continue to read your long list of accomplishments and it’s seemingly never ending. The worker runs out of breath and has to take a drink of water to keep going. The devil is in the details after all. But you didn’t realize you had done so much. “Impressive.” Seokjin nudges you with a quirked brow and an amused smile. Suddenly, you’re called on again. “L/N Y/N, will you please come onto the stage to receive a special award.” “What?” “Don’t just stand there, idiot.” Seokjin mischievously bumps you forward and your steps stagger. With half a mind, you pass the tables and demons watching you, up the stairs to the modest stage. The spotlight is absolutely blinding. The worker shakes your hand and gives you a golden frame. Inside is a certificate of accomplishment. It’s stamped with the crest of hell, the official insignia of honour. “It was signed by the devil, himself,” the worker tells you privately. “He insisted that it would be given to you. Congratulations, Miss Y/N.” There’s a roar of applause. Your eyes stray off the side to see him, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, a proud smile placed on his features. Something blooms inside your chest. Finally, you’ve received recognition for what you’ve done, for all your hard work. You step off stage, cutting through the crowd to get to him. But then you’re stopped by yet another worker. “Miss. Y/N, thank you for being a part of Sins Cruise Line. We’d like to gift you this photo album compiling your best moments of this trip.” “Oh, t-thank you.” You move off and out of the way to open the leather album. What you find are photographs you didn’t know the workers took. There’s a picture of you stepping on this ship for the first time and looking out at the horizon with your drink in hand and the wind blowing through your hair. There’s another with you sitting across the poker table and Seokjin on the other side, the dim lights shining on your heads and illuminating your faces. You continue to flip through, and you discover countless pictures of you and Seokjin together. Him shooting at a human with you standing beside him. Laughing with Seokjin while you’re both in the corner of the feasting room. Out on the lounge chairs together. At the spa. Watching a show in the theater room. Looking into each other’s eyes in the ballroom before your shared kiss. They’re beautiful photographs — precious moments captured in time. You didn’t realize you looked at him in such a way, or that he looked at you so tenderly. You find Seokjin in the crowd again, as you’re grasping the album and the certificate to your chest. “Congratulations, Miss. Devil’s Advocate.” “I can’t believe you did all this.” You’re still breathless, unable to comprehend why he would go to such lengths for you. “You deserve it.” Seokjin matches your softened smile. “Are you sad about leaving?” “Can’t say I’m excited to go,” you admit. “But I have to go back. There’s probably a lot that’s piled up. Taehyung doesn’t know how to work on cases properly.” “Well, take it easy,” the devil says with a grin and stares at you for a moment. It’s silent, the two of you gazing at one another, but then he catches himself and inhales a breath. “Actually, I’m planning on restructuring some things. I want to delegate more duties and lessen workloads so others can better prepare instead of working so last minute.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. He literally took the words right out of your mouth, quoting you exactly. “I’m going to need some advice and personal help for the next while.” “Personal help?” Your brows raise with a giggle. “Personal help.” Seokjin nods. “Hey, you’re free right now, right? Do you want to talk it over during dinner?” Laughter bubbles out of you and your gaze becomes tender. “I’d love to.”

It was undoubtedly hard to walk off that cruise ship. A part of you wishes it could last forever. But alas, all good things must come to an eventual end. Yoongi is seated at his desk, feet propped up on the surface of said desk. He’s casually leaning back on his chair, elbow propped up on the armrest, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. He’s humming to himself, but then he sees the demon guard move aside, and his brows raise. He’s pleasantly surprised. “You’re early.” “Only a little.” You smile at the angel. “Welcome back.” He takes his feet off his desk and deadpans, “I missed you. Too many people have been getting through Heaven lately, it’s been disastrous.” “I’m sure Taehyung wasn’t that bad,” you murmur in the demon’s defense, but it’s weak and half-hearted. You both know he’s pretty terrible — Taehyung’s impatience and lack of meticulousness isn’t exactly great for this job. “What was worse was that he was so annoying. I’d never thought I’d say it, but I’d much prefer you. Did you enjoy your vacation?” he asks. “I heard you went on that cruise.” You smile to yourself. “Yeah, it was good.” “Did it live up to its name?” You contemplate it for a moment before you find yourself nodding. “I have to say that it does.” “Wow, just rub in your good time, bitch,” Yoongi mutters passively aggressively, glaring through the slits of his eyes. Then he relents and sighs. “I’m glad you finally took a break. You look better. Healthier.” “Thanks. Actually, it’s really thanks to—” “You forgot this file, Y/N.” A voice pipes up and the guards move aside. A man appears with his cape billowing behind him, dark robes decorated with gold, official and intimidating. Yoongi’s eyeballs nearly fall out of his socket. The angel’s mouth draws open, his nostrils flared. Seokjin is behind you and hands you the file before taking a seat beside you. He pushes his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, focusing downwards to the paperwork. “I have to sign where?” “Here.” He’s helping you, has been since you’ve gotten back. Yoongi doesn’t try to hide his shock. You smile at the angel with a look that equally shares his pleasant surprise and shows how impressed you are. “You two are close,” Yoongi says when he finds his power of speech again. Seokjin lifts his chin, glances at the angel and then at you. The pair of you share a warm smile together. “I’d say we’re a bit more than close at this point.” You already know Seokjin’s intentions — you’re his advocate after all.

#bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fluff #IT'S BEEN A HOT SECOND SINCE I'VE POSTED AN ACTUAL ONESHOT #i'm kinda looking forward to posting oneshots again #they're just nice and sweet

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footballfanfictions · 3 years

Text

Think that I like her - Phase Six

Christian

It had been three weeks since Christian had told Kara that he couldn’t see her anymore and he hadn’t seen her since.

He had played every game since, assisting 6 goals and scoring 3 of his own. His new manager was so impressed with him that he had taken him to once side and spoken to him about how he saw him in his plans for the future and could see him being a very important leader in the team. Christian had been very flattered but it only made the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that much worse. He had broken things off with Kara because he was sure that he was going to be sold. He had always put his career before any of his relationships, and was always too scared to get close to anyone in case he had to move. He didn’t want a relationship getting in the way of important career decisions. His parents had told him that he would have plenty of time to date when he was older. That didn’t help the dull ache that he felt every time he thought about her.

Mason and his friendship with Kara complicated things further. He wasn’t particularly fond of the way that he had treated his friend. Christian didn’t blame him. If someone had done what he had to someone close to him, like his sister, he would be furious. He’d do worse to the guy than just avoid him.

He missed their friendship though and sitting at Kai and Timo’s table at lunch while the English players bickered and bantered not the next table over made him feel left out.

“It was such a good goal…” Kai said to him in his heavily accented English, his mouth full of pasta salad.

“What was?” Christian asked, his eyes still trailing across to the table where Mason was laughing at something Ben had said.

“Never mind” Kai laughed.

Timo looked up then, he had been bent over a newspaper while eating. He liked to read them to improve his English and he would often look up and exclaim something about a story and would explain how ‘that would never happen in Germany’.

“You are still thinking about that girl. The pretty one from the party” Timo mused quietly.

He had been looking down at the paper so Christian didn’t know how he had been able to tell.

Christian’s cheeks flushed and he picked up his water bottle, taking a long swig from it.

“Ah yes he is” Kai teased.

“She was quite beautiful” Timo continued.

“Have you not seen her since?” Kai asked.

Christian sighed and wondered if he should tell them what he had done. Would then understand or would they berate him for his poor decision making? He thought it would probably be the latter, but maybe that was what he needed to hear.

“I saw her a few times after-“ He was cut off by Kai wolf whistling.

He looked over at the other table, but none of them had looked up.

“We were getting on really well, but then my form took a huge dip and so did my confidence and I just… didn’t want to lead her on if I wasn’t going to be here much longer.” He sighed, running a hand through the front of his hair. It was getting a little bit longer now, to the point that it was visibly curly. He needed to get it cut.

“You tell this girl this?” Timo asked.

Christian nodded, continuing “I broke things off with her because I was so sure that our new manager didn’t want me here. I couldn’t let a relationship hold me back from moving somewhere else if I had to.”

“But you are happy here no? and you have scored 3 goals” Kai looked confused as he asked the question.

“Yeah I have now, and coach has told me that he wants me here for the foreseeable future. I feel like a bit of a fool. I’ve just always focused on my career and haven’t really dated anyone” he explained.

Kai put a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “When I move here, my girlfriend does not want to be coming with me. She studies in Germany. It is hard but we visit.” Kai smiled as he spoke. “If it is meant to be, you can make it work too.”

“But I have messed everything up now. I don’t think she will even speak to me now. What can I do?” he asked them both, looking between Kai and Timo.

It was Timo who offered the solution.

“Grand gesture”.

*****************************

Kara

Kara balanced her bag carefully on her shoulder as she descended the steps outside of the court room. The court hearing had just seen a conclusion to one of her trickiest cases. They had taken the infant into care a couple of days after their birth. Kara herself had attended the hospital a few hours after they had been notified of the birth and had loaded the tiny newborn into her car. The mother hadn’t protested, just stared at the wall. She was pale and gaunt and exhausted from child birth and we were removing her fourth child. She had found herself in the cycle of domestic abuse and substance misuse and she knew the system well.

Kara didn’t want to believe that anyone wasn’t capable of turning their life around. She hadn’t become a Social Worker to ruin lives and take children away, she wanted to help families. She had argued with her manager over and over to let her work with the young mother. Her manager was against this, convinced that she would never put her children above herself.

Kara started by asking the housing department to house the woman in another borough, away from the network of drug dealers and gang members that plagued her life. They had given her a moderately sized two bedroom flat. Kara had to argue hard that the woman needed more than one bedroom, because she wanted to return the baby to the care of it’s mother.

She enrolled the mother onto detox programs, parenting courses and encouraged her to access therapy, and sought court injections against the men that had abused her.

One year and six clear drug and alcohol screenings later, the court had agreed to allow the baby to return home. This had been Kara’s greatest triumph, seeing the two of them reunited outside the court room warmed her heart and as she got into her car she allowed herself to cry. Empathy can be exhausting and emotionally draining and some times she just had to let those emotions out.

She had thrown herself into her job, and into that case so much that the gorgeous young American that had previously taken up all of her thoughts had barely crossed her mind. But she was thinking about him now. How nice it would have been to have had someone to come home to and forget all of the stresses of her day with. She could barely do that with Mollie these days. Mollie was barely home, spending most of her time with Mason in the honeymoon phase. Not that Kara minded. She was very happy that her friends were happy with each other.

The drive home was quick and Kara was soon walking up the steps to their shared flat and fumbling in her bag for her phone.

She listened out for any sounds coming from the flat before she turned her keys in the lock, not wanting to walk in on Mollie and Mason.

She was relieved to hear silence, wanting nothing more than to have a bath, pour herself a glass of wine, change into her comfiest pyjamas and order a Chinese.

She walked into the living room area, not noticing that there was something in the kitchen immediately, until she turned around to pour that glass of wine and found that every available space on the counter tops and the island were filled with large arrangements of roses, in every colour.

Mason had gone overboard on the romance this time she laughed to herself.

The card poking out of the top of the white rose arrangement caught her eye and she couldn’t resist sneaking a look at what Mason had written.

Her eyes scanned the card.

I will never be able to make up for what I did, but I’m hoping to try. Can we talk? Christian x

Ps. Hope you like the flowers

She nearly gathered up all of the flowers, thinking that she would empty them all into the bin, but something stopped her. A tugging feeling in her stomach. She had distracted herself from Christian so well, but that distraction was now gone, and her thoughts were just filled with him. The way that he would smile when he kissed her, how he would wrinkle his nose and laugh when she said some sort of British slang that he didn’t understand, the way his hands were so gentle when he ran them down her arms and held her hands. She missed the way he smelled when she buried her head against his chest.

She was crying again now.

She went to the fridge for the wine and got a glass out of the kitchen cupboard, pouring herself a large glass she took a deep breath and held her phone tight in her fist.

She wanted to text him, but she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t just go running back to him just like that, could she? As much as she wanted to, he had broken things off with her and she would seem like a right doormat if she went running back to him.

She really really needed some advice.

She quickly took a picture of the flowers and sent it to Mollie with a quick message.

K: Did you and Mase know about this? x

M: Mase didn’t but I did. He turned up earlier and he seemed really sorry, then he said he was going to send the flowers and I brought them in x

K: What do you think I should do? x

M: What does your gut tell you? x

K: To tell him to come over x

M: That’s what you should do then x

K: But aren’t I being a massive doormat if I do that? Just forget what he did and move on so easily? x

M: You could make him work for it in other ways *devil emoji* if you know what I mean. You’ll get no judgement from me x

Kara rolled her eyes at Mollie’s last message, but it did make her smile. She could see Christian tonight, and make him work a little to get her back at the same time.

Grinning, she opened up their last text conversation.

K: Hey, I got your flowers. Thanks, they’re beautiful x

C: Not as beautiful as you x

C: Shit that was cheesy sorry x

K: It’s ok, I liked it x

C: I miss you x

K: I miss you too Christian x

C: Can I see you? I’d really like to talk to you in person x

K: I just got back from work, but you’re welcome to come over if you like. I was just planning on having a quiet night in x

C: Ok, I’ll see you soon x

Kara felt giddy as she tottered into the bathroom. She turned the taps on and poured her favourite bath soak in, going a little overboard with the bubbles.

She tried to calm down whilst laying back in the hot water but she just couldn’t. Her mind was solely on Christian. She had looked up the latest Chelsea results while she soaked, so that she would have something to talk to him about at least if things got awkward between them. There was a picture of him from the last match where he had scored a goal. He had a beard now.

Kara bit her lip and tried to resist her thoughts from wondering what his facial hair would feel like against her thighs.

She got out of the bath then. She felt flushed and hot and didn’t want to start sweating. Wrapping a towel around herself she quickly left the bathroom and entered her bedroom. What the hell should she wear to hang out with a guy that had broken up with her? She couldn’t really go for a dress, that would be pretty impractical if they were just going to spend the evening on her sofa.

She downed the last drop of her wine and set the glass down on her dressing table as she surveyed the clothes in her wardrobe. She felt like she had nothing to wear, but of course, that wasn’t the case. She settled on pair of denim shorts and a top that was low cut enough to show her neck and collar bones but modest enough to cover her boobs. She had always been taught that you could only have your legs or your boobs on show, never both. She laughed silently to herself at that rule. It was one that Mollie absolutely swore by and would actively judge girls around them on a night out if they showed too much chest.

She brushed her long hair up into a loose ponytail and quickly go to work on applying make up to her face. She hadn’t worn much make up to court, keeping it simple with just foundation and mascara but she wanted slightly more than that now.

She had just finished sweeping the wand of her liquid lipstick across her lips when she heard a light tap on the front door.

Her legs felt like they were going to give way from underneath her if just at the sight of him and cursed herself under her breath for allowing herself to like someone this much.

She opened the door to a grinning Christian.

“Hi-“ she had gone to say, but she didn’t get it out.

He took a step over the threshold and put on hand on her hip, the other cupping her cheek and pulled her against him, his mouth moving cautiously against hers as if he was scared she might pull away.

She didn’t.

She brought her arms around his neck and allowed his tongue to enter her mouth.

His hand at her hip squeezed gently before he pulled back from the kiss.

“Hi” he said.

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic fanfiction #christian pulisic fanfic #Football Fanfiction #mason mount #OC

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sasserenitysykingcollector · 3 years

Text

Moon Child :Namjin: Chapter One

A/N hello! im going to start posting my fanfictions here! a lot of them were written a year or so ago so they are short and maybe a bit confusing! but im planning to start working on them! please stick around!

Chapter one:

Chapter word count: 1596

It was a rather cloudy day in central Seoul, the rising sun covered by a thin layer of grey clouds that foreshadowed rain. But for the students of the most prestigious college in the country, life continued on as normal. The clock tower rang out eight times, echoing off the many buildings that comprised the campus of Seoul National University. Slowly, the walkways and roads came to life. Students walking to breakfast with friends, teachers making their way to class to prepare for the day, and café workers opening the doors for the breakfast rush.

One café, in particular, was already full of customers, most of whom were women wanting to see the attractive co-owner of the establishment. Kim Seokjin, A fine arts and literature student at the university, often dreaded all the attention he received from the ogling guests. But he smiled and greeted each one the same, “Good morning miss, what may I make for you?” sometimes the customers would slide him a napkin with the money that had their name and phone number, to which he smiled politely and threw away once they walked away.

His male classmates called him the “Woman Magnet” to which he smiled, even though he knew he was the last person who should attract women. When he was fifteen, he had the biggest crush on his classmate Yoongi, it was a defining moment in his life. He had never felt any kind of attraction to women, sure some were cute, but he never thought about them as a potential partner. He wanted to tell his parents but could never bring himself to do it before he left for college. So whenever his mother calls asking about his love life, he always responds with “I’m in a committed relationship” and he never elaborates.

Luckily, his Fine arts class is mostly men, so he doesn’t have to worry about turning down women then, but it’s a double-edged sword. Some of the men in his class are attractive, and Seokjin often catches himself staring, mentally scolding himself every time. Being openly gay in Korea is risky, while there are no laws against it. The idea of loving the same-sex had only started to spread a few years ago. And Seokjin being a respected student at his college had decided to keep his sexual preference to himself.

The library became his safe place, specifically the mythological section. Mostly because no one ever goes there. But he had grown attached to the books and their contents. He liked to get lost in the worlds the books built for the reader. Sometimes, he would be there for hours at a time. Once he had to be told by the librarian that he had to leave because it was time to close.

His favorite book to read was called “Guardian of the moon children” it depicted a being who had no set species. It came in many forms, to young children it often appeared as a white or grey dog who guided them to eternal rest. When as for adults it appeared as a youthful young man who was described as having a deep but soft voice and soft skin. Not only did the being guide human souls to eternal rest, but it also was seen during the birth of someone who would do important things in their life. While Seokjin knew this was just fiction, he wanted it to be true.

At the end of his morning shift, Seokjin would head back to his apartment to shower and change his clothes. After which he would prepare a clean uniform for work and put it in his bag, before sitting at his desk for an hour to study before he had class. He only had four hours’ worth of classes a day, except for Fridays when he had six. So he always finished right before lunch. He would rush back to the café and change into his uniform before eating a quick snack. Normally, he would have ten to fifteen minutes to relax before the lunch rush began. Much like in the morning, women would stare and attempt to hit on Seokjin. It was something he never looked forward to. Part of him thought that if people knew why he worked three shifts a day, they would feel much differently about him. Seokjin had a loan to pay off, a hefty one at that. He had taken the loan out when he moved to attend the university. He had to pay for a place to sleep and the fees that were a result of schooling. At the rate he was making money, it would still be more than two years before he would have the loan completely paid off.

Something Seokjin s parents had told him since he was young was the reason he worked so hard, “if you do something, take responsibility. No matter how big or small the consequences are, never lie about something you did” those words were engraved on his mind, always haunting him, a reminder that the debt will never go away unless paid off. But he accepted it. After the lunch rush. He would make his way home. Working on the pile of homework he was assigned from the day’s classes. If he was able to finish before six, he would go to the library and read before his dinner shift. This was the way he lived.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

“Morning Seokjin, did you have another late night?”

Seokjin bowed slightly out of habit to the café owner, Minseok. Quickly standing straight, Minseok had told Seokjin to treat him as a friend, meaning he should call him by his name and not treat him as he normally would someone older than him.

“Yah!” Minseok exclaimed in exasperation, “I told you not to bow!” Seokjin smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Making his way behind the counter, Seokjin grabs his apron, tying in with ease. “Do you want me to open today?” he asked. “Go ahead” Minseok replied.

As usual, a line of people had already formed outside the door following Seokjin's arrival to the café. He smiled and waved politely before flipping the switch that then lit up a “yes! We are open!” sign.

As the line slowly shrunk and the smell of coffee and fresh pastries faded from the display that hosted an array of freshly baked goods, a deep voice greeted Seokjin

“Good morning sir” Seokjin squeaked out, surprised that he was able to keep his voice steady, albeit slightly higher pitched. “What can I get for you?”

“Ah, I’m new to this area but I saw the long line so I assumed it must be worth the wait, and I can assure you is was.” The man responded looking Seokjin over with his eyes, before meeting them directly.

Seokjin stared for longer than he probably should have, the man's eyes had stars in them, literal stars that floated and shone throughout his pupils, small specks that hypnotized him.

The clearing of a throat snapped him out of his trance, “s-sorry!” he apologize slightly louder than he needed to, causing a few heads to turn in his direction. “W-we are fairly well known for our crumble scones” he spoke nervously, gesturing to the half empty bake-case. “We have a f-few left”

“How perfect, I just so happen to love scones” the man replied running his fingers back through his hair. “And I’ll also have a (joon coffee) with that scone” Seokjin nodded and put the order into the register. Silently, Seokjin hoped the man would pay with his card so he could get his name.

“That will be 7100 Won please” When he looked up he spotted the exact amount in cash on the counter as the man tucked his wallet back into the inside pocket on his suit jacket. “Can I have a name for the order?” He asked. Even Though normally the café went off a number system he thought he would ask.

The man paused in thought “φεγγάρι” (Pronounced fen-gar-e) Seokjin jotted down the name, quickly realizing the name was the Greek word for Moon. He had taken Greek for his language the year before. Though, he never thought it would come in handy.

“You have a Greek name?” Jin asked as he sat the cup to his side and went to get the scone from the display case. “You know Greek?” the man asked. “Uh, y-yeah” Jin said shyly. His cheeks going red when he looked up only to realize that the eyes of the customer were glued onto his own.

“Oh!” Jin exclaimed as he stumbled and dropped the scone that slid on the floor.

Gasps filled the café as the man had caught Jin from falling, “w-wait how?? You were- now you're here?!” he spoke to himself as the man helped him stand up. “I'm going to have to cancel my order for now” he said as he walked towards the entrance, Jin stood in shock along with the other people in line.

Whispers continued throughout the day as Seokjin apologized and cleaned up the mess, he ended up dropping more drinks throughout the day as his mind was trying to deduce how the man made it to his side of the counter when the door to the back was locked, he couldn't remember if he saw the man jump the counter, but that would be impossible. Not a thing was out of place.

Seokjin had one thing in mind all day long, “where can I meet him again”

A/N: Hope you liked it! ill try and update regularly!

#bts namjoon #bts fanfic #bts jin #namjin #fanfic #bangtan

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bexterbex · 5 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 2

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover. If you missed Chapter 1, Click Here

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter 2: An Arrival to be Remembered

UFO has been sited entering the Earth’s atmosphere

Unknown armed and masked being exit ship heading towards the White House, is the President in danger?

Aliens spotted in D.C.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, and got out of bed. You have been in the habit lately to start your day without checking your phone first. Mostly to avoid early morning emails from your boss before you have even had coffee.

You head to the bathroom relieve yourself, wash your face, and brush your hair. Exiting the bathroom you head to the kitchen and make yourself some breakfast and coffee. You enjoy the sunrise through the large windows in your apartment. Finishing eating you immediately wash your few dishes and get ready for work. You pick out your work ‘uniform’ of a black blouse and black trousers. You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, put on a little makeup and get changed.

Heading back to the kitchen you prepare a to-go cup of coffee and pull out your lunch for work. Finally, you check your phone.

First, you see an email from your boss reminding you for the 10th time about the morning meeting that you have every Thursday. It isn’t like you to forget something you do every single week for the past year. Never once have you been late, in fact, he was always the one to forget. You wonder if these emails were meant more for him and less for you. But he was always the micromanager.

Next, you check your texts. Your usual morning photo from one of your siblings about one of your nieces/nephews. Another one from Hayden asking if you were still on for tomorrow night’s weekly bar trip. You answered ‘Yes 😀 .’ Another from Carter asking what you think of the news headlines this morning. Odd, although this isn’t the first time you two had discussed something like this it was odd to receive a text like this from them first thing in the morning.

You open Twitter to see #alieninvasiondc trending. You scroll through the news tag. Every major news site around the world is talking about the shuttlecraft that landed on the White House lawn last night, and the armed and armored soldiers that departed from the craft. All of the soldiers wore white armor, except one in silver. There was one who was in all black and a red-haired human-looking man among the group. Not much is known other than they haven’t been seen leaving the White House.

You text Carter back ‘Just looked now, either this is a hoax or the world as we know it is coming to an end. I’ll see you at work.’

You packed your work bag, grabbed your car keys and set off to work. You park in the ramp attached to your building and walk to the elevator. You wave at the security attendant to the opposing skywalk like you do every morning. You arrive at your floor and buzz-in. You say hi to Nancy in reception and head to your desk.

Strangely all of the televisions in the office were muted and tuned into CBC News, normally the one in the break room and the ones in reception were on, the others only really got used during Hockey Games or events like the Olympics. Your boss was in the walkway with his attention turned to his phone.

You set down your things at your desk and boot up your work computer while setting up your laptop on its stand. You did your usual check through work emails until the 9:00 AM weekly meeting. Your boss hasn’t moved from his position in the walkway.

8:55 AM hits and you grab what you need and head to the conference room. The tv was on in here as well. The others in the Marketing department filled in after you. Your boss, Scott, had yet to move from his place in the walkway. 9:00 AM hits and you continue small talk with your co-workers, most of the conversation is directed at the events in D.C.

9:05 AM your co-worker Ally sends a Slack message to your boss. He looks up from his phone to the clock on the wall and runs into his office. After a few minutes, he rushes out and into the conference room.

“Sorry, I am late everyone the Wife is just paranoid over this Alien Invasion thing. I can’t get her to stop texting me,” he chuckles.

Ironically this isn’t the first time he has been ‘late’ to a meeting after being on the phone with his wife an hour after work already started.

Suddenly you all get an Emergency Alert System notification on all of your phones.

‘International Emergency: Please tune in to your local news broadcasting station to receive an Emergency Report.’

Scott asks, “where is the damn remote?”

Ally hands it to him, he unmutes the tv.

The headline reads: ‘President of the United States has an Important International Government Update’

Live from Washington D.C.

On the screen, it shows the President of the United States, with the silver soldier, one in all black and the red-haired man from the video of the invasion last night.

“I have an important announcement. Earth has been contacted by people from space who call themselves the First Order. The First Order has informed me that they would like to peacefully work with Earth. As long as we fully cooperate as an entire planet no harm will come to any of us. Currently, our galaxy is at war, and the First Order seeks our help, in return of offering Earth protection from a group of people called the New Republic.

They have explained to me and the U.N. as a whole that the New Republic is not to be trusted along with their mercenary army called the Resistance. It is through my decision and the decision of the U.N. that we will cooperate and join forces with the First Order to be under their protection.

All citizens of Earth in the next 7 days must register with the First Order. You will be given a citizen number, some citizens may be reassigned to work directly with the First Order. All military personal will be reassigned to be under the First Order. You should not worry as most citizens will be unaffected, life will go on as normal. As long as citizens follow these orders and any orders to come, we shall be safe,” said the President. The President moved out of the way for the man in all black and with a black mask to move to the podium.

“I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I promise no harm will come to those who cooperate with us. We seek to peacefully transition your planet, as you know it Earth, to a primary First Order Planet. We value honesty and loyalty, along with hard work. We strive to rebuild the Empire and to maintain order in the galaxy. That is all,” The man's voice was distorted through the mask he was wear, it sounded mechanical or digital but it had a deep sound.

The broadcast cut back to the news anchor. “Currently all citizens of earth are to report to their a local city government building or town hall within the next 7 days for First Order registration and possible reassignment. All citizens must remain calm and do as the government has directed. Any questions or concerns will be answered by local government officials and First Order personnel. All foreign citizens to Canada will follow the same protocol as citizens. All citizens are asked to bring various forms of identification, such as a Passport, driver's license, birth certificate, social insurance number card, any immunization forms, military I.D. and more. You can find a full list of required documents at the CBC website or at canada.ca. As a reminder, all citizens are urged to stay calm and to follow all orders regarding and following First Order registration. Citizens are also advised to stay tuned to local news sources for any updates.”

The conference room sat stunned at the announcement.

“Well were f*****,” said Scott. “We are all surely f*****. Who are these people to think they can just take over like that? Do they think we are just going to sit by and let them brainwash us? Let them take everything from us?”

“I don’t think we have a choice, you heard the U.S. President, the U.N. is in agreement. This is for our own safety. If you are going to go against them and get yourself killed keep us out of it,” said Daniel one of your marketing co-workers.

“I’ll talk to Henry, and see if we can all take the week off, who knows this may be the last time we even get to see our families,” and with that statement, Scott left the conference room.

You sat there not really moving, processing what you just witnessed on the tv and the confrontation between Scott and Daniel. So did the rest of your co-workers. You could tell they were all in shock, the world as you knew it was about to change, the future had shifted.

All of your phones went off again. This time it was an email from Jonathan the CEO.

‘All employees will take today, tomorrow and next week off, in order to give proper attention to the government mandate. Please be safe and I hope to see you all come -Henry G. Wells’

Everyone in the conference room got up and went to their desks. The office was silent, except for the sounds of items being put away and people gathering their things. You were almost done getting ready to go when Carter appeared next to you.

They didn’t speak, for fear of being the first one to break the ominous silence. Carter just looked at you expectantly. You finished packing up and walked with them out of the office. The elevator was packed but silent. Everyone got off and walked to their cars. Carter followed you to yours.

Keeping their voice down, almost to a whisper, they asked, “I know I texted you this morning about all this but what do you think now? Do you want to go back to your place or mine?”

You thought about it for a moment before responding, “let’s go back to mine. We can discuss it from there.”

Carter accepted your response and went to their car to leave. You followed suit. Today was not what you expected.

Tags: @sheadre

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #sw #sw sequels #a soul to mend his own

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imagineteamfreewill · 5 years

Photo

Title: Magic

Pairing: Goddess!Reader x Dean

Word Count: 3,921

Warnings: Use of magic

Summary: Dean learns more about his role as Y/N’s consort and she learns more about his life at the temple.

A/N: This is part two of Consort. Feedback makes the world go round!

Consort Series Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

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Dean didn’t know what to expect as he climbed the stone steps to Y/N’s chambers. The door sensed his presence and opened automatically as he neared, but he hesitated before ascending the final few feet. When he finally emerged into the room, a wave of calmness and warmth washed over him. Y/N stood from the chaise with a smile on her face and all the tension he’d been feeling melted away.

Y/N held out a hand for him. “Dean,” she greeted, her voice soft and gentle. “Come here.”

Obediently, Dean crossed the room and slipped his hand into hers. It was weird—he hadn’t held anyone’s hand ever since The Culling. His mother had been holding his hand tightly just before Y/N had arrived, but Dean hadn’t been close with anyone since coming to the temple.

Y/N smiled and squeezed his hand before leading him to a short pedestal in the center of the room. The rugs had all been cleared away, as had the furniture. Dean shifted uncomfortably on the pedestal as she let go of his hand. He felt too exposed.

Y/N clapped her hands once and stepped away. Three young maidens appeared, each dressed in a plain, cream-colored linen dress, and Dean immediately recognized them as some of the women who’d been brought to the temple shortly after his own Culling. He’d never bothered to learn about the logistics, but he was pretty sure that after all the boys were gathered and taken to the temple, some of the soldiers went back to take the girls. There were always families that never had any sons, but gender never stopped anyone from paying the tax, not in Camor. Firstborns were firstborns, regardless of whether or not they served a purpose in the temple. From what he’d seen, Dean had the feeling that most of the temple women were only there to replace each other if something went wrong. If they weren’t one of the few who helped Y/N, they spent most of their time milling around the servants’ chambers.

“While you’re being measured, I need you to listen carefully to me,” Y/N instructed.

Dean nodded, letting one of the temple women maneuver his arms so they could measure him.

“During The Culling, you’ll be accompanying me to each village. It will be a long journey, and you’ll be expected to fulfill every need that my handmaidens can’t accomplish. You will also be serving as one of my guards,” Y/N said, and Dean furrowed his eyebrows at her. He’d never been trained as a guard, but she waved her hand dismissively. “You will not speak to any of the boys that return with us, nor will you speak to their families. You will also not speak to your family, do you understand?”

“We’re going to Lawrence?” Dean asked, his mouth moving before he could stop himself.

Y/N shot him a scolding look. “We will be going to every village, Dean. It’s important that you follow my every command on our journey. Of course, I hope that you will not think of them as commands by that point. The Culling is still a few cycles away, and we will have time to bond before then.”

Bond?

One of the temple women stepped away from Dean and moved in front of Y/N, bowing down on her hands and knees until her forehead touched the floor.

“You may speak,” Y/N said.

The maiden stood, staring at the floor as she spoke. “His measurements have been taken, Your Majesty. His garments will arrive quickly.”

“Very well. You may leave me.”

The woman bowed again and the other two followed suit. Silently, they left through the servants’ door, leaving Dean alone with Y/N.

“When you said bond…” Dean began, but Y/N turned her back on him, walking to her desk and sitting down. She pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began to write in silence.

Confused, Dean stepped down from the pedestal. As soon as he’d stepped onto the floor, it disappeared and the furniture and rugs that normally took its place returned. Dean was at a loss for words; he’d known that Y/N had magical abilities, but he didn’t think that it could be used without words or her touch. He’d also been so sure that her magic was only applicable to humans. All the stories he’d heard had involved other people, and usually not in a good way.

“Your thoughts are loud,” Y/N suddenly said, and Dean jumped in surprise.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

She turned in her chair, her eyes boring into him for a long moment before she answered, “I told you to call me Y/N.”

Dean felt his stomach roll as she stood and approached him. “Please forgive me.”

Y/N stopped when she was within six inches of him, her bare feet peeking out from underneath her long white gown. She raised her hand and placed it on his cheek without looking away, her eyes swirling with colors as she stared him down.

“You’re afraid of me,” Y/N stated a moment later, her voice as soft as velvet.

Swallowing thickly, Dean answered, “I could never be afraid of you, Y/N.”

Her face contorted in anger and she dropped her hand. “Do not lie to me, Dean. Lies will earn you nothing but punishments, and my last consort did nothing but lie to me. Do you wish to find out his fate?”

Y/N turned and walked away from him, going to the heavy trunk at the end of her bed. She opened it and reached inside, then pulled out a bundle of clothing he’d never seen before. After closing the trunk once more, she held the bundle out to him with an expectant look on her face.

Dean took it, confused, but Y/N offered no explanation as she returned to her writing desk.

“You may change here. I will give you privacy, and the temple servants will not enter in the process. You will be assigned handmaidens to help you later today,” Y/N said as she sat back down.

“I can dress myself, Your Ma— Y/N,” Dean corrected himself before she could say anything. “I’m not in need of handmaidens.”

“Consorts have handmaidens,” Y/N answered, and that was that. Her tone left no room for argument and Dean felt a shiver go up his spine at her words.

Ducking his head, he looked through the clothes she’d given him. The material was soft and unlike anything he’d ever worn. It was clearly made by the same workers who made Y/N’s clothing, or at least by someone just as skilled. Though the clothes themselves were plain, the colors were something he’d never pictured himself wearing. They were rich reds, blues, and greens that likened to the gardens outside the temple, the gardens he’d seen but never ventured into. His work had kept him too busy for exploration, but he’d always longed to spend time in them.

The clothes fit well, and Dean was relacing his plain shoes when he heard Y/N get up again. Her feet appeared in front of him as he tied the laces, and after a moment he lifted his head to look up at her.

“Take those off,” she ordered. “You will not wear shoes.”

Confused, Dean removed the shoe and picked it up with its pair, holding onto them as a temple woman scurried in to collect his old clothing. She cast him a frightened look before risking a glance at Y/N, who was watching her intently.

“Go on. Take his shoes. He won’t be needing them any longer.”

The woman tentatively took the shoes from him, and Dean didn’t resist. She looked terrified to be there and pity made his chest ache as he watched her leave.

Y/N took his face in her hand, turning it until he met her eyes. “Do not pity her. She is here to serve, just as you are. You simply serve in other ways.” She dropped her hand and gave him a smile. “Will you tell me a story, Dean?”

Dean nodded obediently. Y/N’s smile widened and she took his hand, leading her to the chaise. When she didn’t sit like she normally did, he looked over at her in confusion.

“You may sit,” Y/N said, her voice filled with amusement. She reached over and pushed him until he was lying flat on the chaise. Y/N maneuvered his legs until she could fit between them, then laid down and placed her head on his chest. “Wrap your arms around me.”

Dean did as she said, uncomfortable at the intimacy of the position. Never had he dreamed of finding himself this close to Camor’s protector and provider, and he’d never seen her become so… physical with anyone else. Would this be a new normal in his life?

“I want to hear a story you’ve heard about me,” Y/N said. Before Dean could protest, she continued, “I don’t care if it makes me sound evil. It’s important I know what my people think of me. This is part of my preparation, Dean. The Culling is a difficult time for my people. I must be prepared to face their opinions.”

Her answer surprised him. Dean hadn’t expected Y/N to be so thoughtful about the ritual. He, and everyone Camor, assumed that she celebrated with great joy and without a care for the strain it put on many families. Dean was quickly learning that he’d assumed many things incorrectly.

“Very well,” Dean replied. “I will need a moment to think…”

Y/N hummed in response. When he risked a glance down at her, Dean saw that her eyes were closed. She was completely relaxed against him, but he could still feel the raw power thrumming underneath her hot skin.

Finally, Dean was able to settle his thoughts enough to think of a story told often in the servants’ chambers. He’d heard it hundreds of times since his arrival, and it was still fresh in his mind from the last time it had been told.

“The Goddess has been around since the dawn of time. She was born of dust and clouds, and her powers came from a vial placed in her hand at her birth. Time and Space formed her to help protect the people who would soon come into being. But soon after her creation, the vial was tainted. Her powers twisted at the sight of the first man and woman. In order to protect themselves from her, they vowed to give her their first child on the day of the fourth full moon after his sixteenth year. She agreed, and the man and woman escaped with their lives.

“Their promise to the Goddess was forgotten until she came to take the child. It was a boy, and he fought against her with all he had. The Goddess won their battle, but not without coming away unscathed. The boy was able to catch her with his sword, leaving a long, lightning-shaped scar across her skin. Angry, she took the boy and forced him to be her servant for the rest of his life, instead of letting him return to his parents after a year like she had originally intended.

“As the human race began to grow, she took more and more of these children as recompense for her injury and the betrayal she’d felt when the first man and woman went back on their vow. Even today, the Goddess comes every year to take—”

“Stop,” Y/N said, her voice quiet but filled with enough power to make every muscle in Dean’s body tense. He went silent, waiting for her to speak again. She didn’t, instead getting up from the chaise and leaving him alone as she went to sit at her desk.

“Y/N?” Dean hesitantly asked. “Are you alright?”

“My hairbrush is on above the hearth. Please bring it to me,” Y/N said.

Confused, Dean stood and retrieved the brush, carrying it to her. She didn’t take it, but she moved so that her hair draped over the back of the chair. Dean understood after a moment and he began to brush her hair with long, smooth strokes. He’d helped a couple temple women with their hair when their hands were too cramped from sewing or their other tasks, and the motions came easily to him.

“You’re very skilled,” Y/N murmured after a few minutes. The tension had melted away from her muscles and Dean felt himself relax in response.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he answered. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Are you?”

The question took Dean by surprise and he didn’t reply for a minute. Y/N turned around to face him, her expression unreadable as she looked up at him.

“Do you enjoy my company, Dean?” she asked again.

“I don’t know,” Dean reluctantly answered. “I don’t know much about you, and I’m not used to this.”

She frowned, confused. “This?”

“Your chambers are… comfortable. They’re too comfortable for me, and while the clothes are pleasant, they’re also too pleasant.”

Y/N looked even more confused. “How can something be too comfortable or too pleasant, Dean? I don’t understand.”

She doesn’t understand? I thought she knew everything…

“The servants’ chambers are…” Dean trailed off, searching for the right word.

“They’re what?”

“Cramped,” he finally answered. “They’re dirty, lacking, and uncomfortable. When I first came here—when I first came from my village to the temple—I thought I’d be living in a nice room because the temple is so nice, but sometimes I felt more like a prisoner or a slave.”

Y/N’s face clouded over with anger and she pushed the chair away from the vanity, standing. Dean quickly stepped back so he was out of her way and watched her carefully.

“You felt like a slave in my temple?” she asked.

Hesitantly, Dean nodded. “Yes, Y/N.” He lowered his eyes instinctively, equal parts shame and fear making his chest feel tight.

He only lifted his head when she placed two fingers under his chin, pressing gently. Y/N’s eyes were saddened when he finally met them and all traces of anger were completely gone.

“You’re not a slave, Dean. Though you are still here to serve, this is your home and I intend to make it feel as such,” she told him. After a brief pause, she continued, “Would you accompany me to the servants’ chambers? I would like to see them for myself. I’ve never been there before. I’d always assumed that they were comfortable, at the very least, but it seems that I’ve assumed incorrectly.”

Though he wasn’t sure how the other servants would react to seeing Y/N in their space, he nodded. It didn’t seem like he truly had the option to say no.

“I’ll lead you there, but please don’t hurt them, no matter what they do. Our space isn’t what we always need or want, but it’s the only thing we have that’s ours,” Dean said.

Especially since not even our lives are our own, he added in his head.

Y/N watched him in silence for a moment before bowing her head. “You have my word not to hurt anyone, though those rooms are not yours anymore, Dean. This is.” She gestured around the spacious bedroom.

Dean nodded, not wanting to argue anymore. Y/N gave him a satisfied smile before wrapping her hand around his and squeezing.

“Take me downstairs,” she said.

Silently, Dean led her to the stone door on the side of the room. It opened automatically as they neared it, and he carefully ducked down into the tunnel, glancing behind him to make sure that Y/N was following. She was, and the uncomfortable look on her face told him that she was already displeased with the conditions he’d lived with for so long. Stooping to get in and out of her chambers had become a habit after only a few weeks at the temple.

“How long is this staircase?” Y/N asked after a few minutes of walking.

Dean thought as he walked before answering, “Only a few more minutes. There’s quite a distance between your chambers and ours.”

Y/N made an irritated noise behind him. “I wish you’d stop referring to our room as mine. I thought I made myself clear when I said that it’s your home now as well.”

Homes aren’t forced on people, Dean thought, his mind wandering for a second to his first few days at the temple. They’re created over time.

The two of them descended in silence until they finally reached the bottom. The usual chill of the servants’ chambers made its way up Dean’s spine and he shivered, looking back at Y/N. Her dress revealed even more skin than his new clothes and he frowned a little.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

Y/N shook her head. “Take me to where you used to sleep, Dean.”

Obediently, Dean turned forward again and began to walk, ignoring the cold, wet stones beneath his bare feet. The halls were empty, but as they neared the central area of the chambers, Dean began to hear the chatter of the other servants.

“Please let me enter first, Y/N,” Dean said, stopping just outside the entrance to the common area. “I don’t know how they’ll react to seeing you in their space.”

Y/N watched him for a second before nodding. “Very well.”

Dean sighed in relief and nodded back at her before turning around and stepping into the large room. All the servants turned to look at him, their excited voices dying down as they looked him over. Surely they’d all heard of his new position in the temple.

“She’s here,” Dean said after a long moment. The men visibly straightened, fear filling their eyes as they looked at one another. “She does not intend to hurt anyone,” Dean quickly continued. “She’s simply here to look at how we live.”

Every pair of eyes moved to look over Dean’s shoulder and he held back a sigh, knowing that Y/N had entered the room before he’d had the chance to finish. He turned to face her, waiting patiently as she looked over the room with her critical gaze. Finally, she met his eyes.

“Your friends are afraid of me,” she said simply.

Dean nodded.

Y/N stayed silent for a moment more before closing her eyes, and Dean felt a wave of calm wash over him, just as it had when he had fallen asleep in her room. The audible sighs and shuffling behind him told him that the other servants were feeling the exact same thing.

“Please, do not be afraid,” Y/N told them, her voice strong, yet gentle. “I did not come here to hurt you, just to observe. Come, Dean.”

Y/N held out her hand and Dean slipped his into it, letting her lead him back the way they had come. He was still blinking against the heavy blanket of peacefulness that she’d settled over him, but the feeling of her skin against his was slowly bringing him back.

“What did you do to us?” he asked.

“It is simply one of the effects of my magic,” Y/N explained, not looking back as they continued to walk. “I can coax your emotions to grow stronger, but I can only affect emotions that a person is already feeling. I used yours to help them. It’s good to know that you’re starting to feel more comfortable around me.”

Dean stayed quiet as Y/N led him back up the stairs to her chambers. His feet ached as the stone door closed behind him and she dropped his hand. When he noticed her bending over to reach inside the chest at the foot of her bed once more, he stepped forward to try and catch a glimpse of its contents. She closed it too fast, however, and her eyes glinted with warning as she straightened to stand tall once more.

“You are not to open this chest, Dean. Its contents are not to be touched or seen by you without my permission. Do you understand?” Dean nodded, swallowing hard. “Good. Sit. Your feet are bleeding, I need to bandage them.”

Surprised, Dean looked down to see that the rough stone of the servants’ chambers had torn the skin of his feet. He sat on the edge of the bed in silence as Y/N approached him, then watched as she knelt down in front of him and began to tenderly wrap his feet.

“You’ve had a long day,” she said as she was finishing. “You should rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Dean replied.

Y/N looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Very well. What would you like to do?”

“I’d like to know more about you,” he answered, surprising himself. He’d surprised her too, it seemed, and Y/N stood as she considered his request.

“If I answer some of your questions, will you allow me to help you rest?”

Dean nodded and Y/N gestured for him to move to lie on the bed. Once he was settled, Y/N sat where he had just been, shifting slightly so she could meet his eyes.

“Do you enjoy The Cullings?” he asked.

After a moment, Y/N shook her head. “No. I never have, and I don’t believe that I ever will. They are necessary, however, for me to continue to protect my people.”

“Your people?”

“Is that your second question?” Y/N countered, a small smile gracing her lips.

Dean rolled his eyes and smiled back for a moment before letting it fade. “Why did you choose me to be your…”

“My consort?” Y/N finished, and Dean nodded in response. “You’re strong. You are beautiful. Your spirit is kind, and I enjoy your stories. I hope you have many more.”

Considering her answer, Dean laid quietly for a few minutes. Y/N stood up to leave just as he asked, “What else can you do?”

She paused and looked back at him. “Are you asking about my magic?” When he nodded, Y/N sat down on the bed once more and smoothed her dress down over her legs.

“I can do many things,” she said after a second of thought. “I can strengthen or weaken emotions that are present in a person’s mind. I can make people fall asleep and wake up again. I can make things return to where they belong, like the furniture of this room.”

Dean nodded, silently urging her to continue.

“I can make things appear more beautiful than they actually are,” she added after a moment of thought.

“You can make things appear beautiful? Like what?”

“That’s a question for another time, Dean. I’ll help you sleep tonight, and tomorrow we’ll discuss more of your responsibilities. Your handmaidens will be here in the morning.”

Dean looked up at the ceiling in silence. She reached for him and smoothed a hand over his forehead and his hair. The same warmth from the day before flooded his body and all tension he felt was gone.

“Rest, Dean. Tomorrow will be a wonderful day for both of us,” Y/N murmured, and Dean closed his eyes as he let her magic soothe him to sleep.

_______________

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whatisthiscontentyouspeakof · 4 years

Text

Guardian of Light

Being anxious about post the last chapter and how well you guys would receive it has resulted in me not looking at any of the notes this account has gotten because anxiety, so if you asked to be tagged, I haven’t see it yet and thus you haven’t been added to the tag list. I promise to have you added for the next post though.

AO3 First Previous Next

Chapter 3: Friends

(Age 12)

Marinette looked at the girl in front of her. She was pale, caucasian, with blond hair and bright blue eyes. Her hair was straight with a slight wave to the ends of it, with half of it pulled up in a ponytail with the rest staying down along with two strands at the front to frame her face. She wore a canary yellow aline dress with a black bow along the waist seam, with black cuban heeled boots and a black wide brim hat. And most importantly, she was staring at Marinette as if she was looking at an alien.

“Can I help you?” she asked the blond politely.

“Marinette,” her birth name came out of the girls mouth like a whimper, as if saying the name pained her.

“Yes?” she said.

Tears formed in the girl's eyes and she brought one of her hands up to cover her mouth, revealing her french manicure. “I-” the girl had to stop as her voice cracked. She took a few calming breaths before speaking again. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, god we were so young. We used to be in the same class back before you were taken. If I hadn’t been such a brat back then, maybe you never would have gone missing.”

That clicked something in her mind as she flashed back to one of the few memories she had before becoming Niu. “You’re the girl in the park.” She whispered. “The one throwing a tantrum.”

That didn’t seem like the best thing to say as the girl full on started to cry, not the kind of crying that came with sobs and screams but the kind where tears leaked from your eyes uncontrollably. After a moment of silence the girl laughed. “I'm sorry, I’m such a mess. I’m Chloe by the way, not sure if you remember that much.”

“I would say I’m Marinette, but I think you already know that,” Marinette said, not sure how to continue. Was she supposed to get angry at the girl since she obviously blamed herself or was she supposed to say it was nothing and the past is in the past. When in doubt, go with nice. “Hey, it’s fine, okay. I really don’t remember much about that day. We were three, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault I was taken. And it’s not like you were the one who took me.”

“I know I’m being ridiculous just so you know,” The girl, Chloe said. “It’s just, I was such a brat and I threw the fit and that’s why none of the teachers were watching when you were grabbed. It was a bit of a wake up call for me, that not everything revolved around me and I spent all this time thinking I got you killed, that you were dead in a forest somewhere but then I heard you’d been found and I couldn’t believe it.”

Marinette studied the girl before coming up with an idea. She took a step back and turned her back to the girl. She could feel the girls confusion as her crying slowed down. Once she was sure the girl was calm she turned back around. “Hello,” she said with a wide smile. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When I was three I was forced to live with some people who weren’t the nicest; I don’t want to talk about it so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask any questions. I’ve been living with my parents again for the last two months after being in a year long coma. I’m going to be going into Sixieme at College Francoise Dupont. And you are?”

The girl hesitated for a moment before wiping her tears away. “I am Chloe Bourgeois. I used to be a spoiled brat, having two rich parents can do that to a kid but when a kid in my class disappeared I got realized that other people mattered and tried my hardest to do better. I still have my moments in which I’m a bitch and materialistic but that’s not all I am. My mom is Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois and my dad is the current Mayor of Paris Andre Bourgeois. I’m also about to enter Sixieme at College Francoise Dupont, and I’d like to be the first to offer to show you around Paris again since you’ve been gone for so long.”

Marinette smiled. “Why not.”

Afterall, if she was going to be in Paris for a while, who better to have as a friend then a socialite and daughter of the mayor?

Marinette followed Chloe up to her bedroom, having an off feeling about the blond. So far she’d been nothing but nice to Marinette, showing her all the ‘hip’ hang outs and catching her up on all the students that would be in their year, all useful information, but the girl had something planned and it was putting Marinette on edge. She doubted it was anything to cause her harm, the blond had yet to give off any signals to suggest such, but her training refused to allow her to let her guard down. You never knew who was just pretending to be your friend after all and who knew, maybe Chloe had been trained by someone similar to how Marinette had been with the Order.

Chloe showed her around the room when suddenly three people walked into the room, one was a blond boy, another was a stern looking woman with black hair that had some bits dyed red, and the last was a large, buff man who stood looming over the boy with a protective air about him. She’d seen enough bodyguards and personal guards in her life to know what one looked like. The question was why did the boy need one.

“Ms. Bourgeois, I thought Mr. Agreste made it quite clear that Adrien was to spend today hanging out with you, per your request, and no one else.” The stern woman said when she caught sight of Marinette. She seemed like a personal assistant or other hired worker of whoever this ‘Mr. Agreste was’.

“I can leave if you want,” Marinette said, not wanting to step on any toes quite yet. She needed a better understanding of Paris, and who would be useful and not useful to play nice with, and pissing off someone who obviously had money and potentially influence, would go against that.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re my friend Marinette and so is Adrien. If I want to hang out with both of you then I should be able to. Tell Mr. Agreste to shove his over protectiveness . Marinette isn’t going to hurt Adrien and my floor is one of the safest places in Paris.” Chloe snapped. “Adrien is going to grow up and become an adult eventually. Mr. Agreste should be careful not to push and push until Adrien resents him.”

“Chloe,” the blond boy, Adrien, said He looked more and more uncomfortable the longer she spoke.

“Chloe, it’s fine. Mr. Agreste obviously has certain rules in place and I would hate to break them.” Marinette said, her voice firm. She turned to the assistant. “I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused. While it would be nice to make more friends here in Paris, I can understand a parent not wanting their child to hang out with someone they do not know. I am however friends with Chloe,” something she wouldn’t have personally called them, especially not so soon, but Marinette was willing to go along with it, “and as such, there could be more situations in which she tries to hang out with both of us. As such I’d be willing to meet with Mr. Agreste so he could decide for himself whether I am someone he wants around his son, and I am sure my parents would agree with a meeting as well.”

The assistant looked at her, trying to see if she meant what she said, before nodding. “If you wish to give me your number I can talk with Mr. Agreste and see what he has to say. I will call if he is willing to have a meeting with you and your parents. Until then, I ask that you stay away from Adrien and leave if Chloe tries getting the three of you to hang out together.”

“Of course,” Marinette said.

A week later Marinette found herself with her parents, that was still a weird word to her, sitting in an office waiting for Mr. Agreste to arrive. Her parents seem impressed by the Agreste Mansion though Marinette found it to be an arbitrary display of wealth. The rooms were too large, the white and black theme of everything in the house was old and overused. The giant portrait of Agreste’s wife was an obvious rip off of the Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, commonly known as The Women (or Lady) in Gold, which was just weird. At least be original with your art instead of ripping off a piece of stolen Jewish art.

From her research Gabriel Agreste was a famous fashion designer of the brand Gabriel in which his son, Adrien, was the main model and face for. Mr. Agreste had been a fashion designer since high school, designing and making clothing for his schools theater program. He eventually studied at the Royal College of Art in London where he graduated top of the class and worked for Alexander McQueen in London. He met his wife a few months before graduation, probably one of the reasons he stayed in London instead of moving back to Paris. He stayed with McQueen for a year before leaving to head back to Paris to start his own fashion company, with his now wife, then girlfriend, Emilie following. Around a year or two later he caught the attention of Chloe’s mother, Audrey Bourgeois, aka The Style Queen, skyrocketing him to fame. Within another year he was the Paris designer to watch, married and expecting a child. When his son was five, someone attacked him and his mother to try and ramson them for Gabriel's wealth. Since then the man has been quite the recluse.

Emilie Graham de Vanily grew up with money and wealth in London. Unlike her sister Amelie, it appeared from school reports and interviews that her upbringing didn’t go to her head, keeping a kind and compassionate heart even while surrounded by greed and vanity. She found a love of acting while in College. It was during a dress rehearsal for a small time play she was in that she met the designer behind the costumes, Gabriel Agreste and quickly fell in love. She supported his passion for fashion, encouraging him to start his own fashion house, resulting with her moving to his hometown of Paris. Once his career picked up, following the praise of Audrey Bourgeois, Emilie found herself agreeing to marry the man who had stolen her heart, the two starting a family not long after. During this time Emilie continued to act, mostly in smaller productions, happy to be the supporting partner in her relationship. Not long after giving birth to her son, she starred in the movie Solitude which became the film she was most well known for. When she and her son were attacked, she agreed with her husband to take a step out of the limelight, and while she was seen more than her husband, she still got the title of recluse added to her.

Marinette sat up straighter as she heard approaching footsteps. She gave her parents a pointed look causing the two to stop their conversation as they became aware of the approaching footsteps. They all stood as Gabriel and Emilie Agreste entered the room, Nathalie Sancoeur, who was Gabriel's personal assistant, followed a few steps behind them, staying by the exit, an ipad in her hand.

Her parents politely shook the other two parents hands, introducing themselves and Marinette before any of them sat again. Marinette took note of the fact that Emilie stayed standing behind her husband's chair, suggesting a submissive nature and that she was fine with following Gabriels lead. Her parents on the other hand, generally stood side by side unless one was better equipped to handle a topic, suggesting an equality between them. That did not suggest that there was anything wrong with having a more submissive and dominant relationship, it could offer just as much balance as an equal one giving the right conditions and a respect for all parties involved.

“I understand you wish to interact with my son.” Gabriel Agreste said, skipping over the niceties.

“Yes sir.” Marinette spoke before her parents could try and speak for her. “I befriended Chloe Bourgeois not that long ago and she is insisting that she spends time both with me and Adrien. I will be honest, I don’t mind the idea of making more friends,” it would help her fit in more, “but I understand that you have rules and I’ll understand if you don’t want me hanging out with Adrien after this meeting is over. I’ll even make sure Chloe doesn’t try to set anything up like she had tried to do last week.”

Mr. Agreste studied her, as if trying to see if she was lying. As if he’d be able to tell even if she had been. “I am glad you understand Ms. Dupain-Cheng. I take Adrien’s safety very seriously and do not wish to have any bad influences getting him in dangerous situations.”

Marinette smiled up at the man softly. “I understand. The world is a dangerous place. I have to say, I don’t know what I could say that would make you trust me.”

“I’m surprised to hear you admit that the world is a dangerous place.” Mr. Agreste told her. “Most children your age, my son included, seem to think themselves invincible.”

Marinette allowed her smile to become more rueful, “I’m can assure you Mr. Agreste, I am not ‘most child’.”

“What our Marinette means to say,” Tom Dupain spoke up. “She has had a bit of a rough childhood, and knows better than most that the world can be dangerous.”

“I assume you're alluding to the fact that she had been kidnapped as a young child.” Mr. Agreste said boldly. Someone wasn’t worried about upsetting people's feelings. He smiled at her parents' surprise. “I do background checks on every person my son comes into contact with. Marinette’s missing person file is the top result upon looking up her name. I assume congratulations are in order, since, while there are no news articles speaking of her miraculous return, that return still seems to be recent.”

“I was found collapsed in a park over a year ago,” Marinette explained to him. “I was rushed to a hospital where I was checked over and the doctors realized I had fallen into a coma. When I eventually awoke it was to discover that I was in my hometown, which I had no true memory of, and was reunited with my parents. I am still settling in, but it’s one of the reasons I wouldn’t mind more friends. I’ve never really had the chance to make some before.”

“That still doesn’t explain where you’ve been all this time.” Mr. Agreste pointed out.

Her mom spoke up for her when she refused to answer. “Marinette refuses to speak of her time away. The therapist that the police directed up to said it is likely the trauma she faced that makes her refuse to say anything and that we shouldn’t push her. I ask that you don’t either.”

Mr. Agreste looked at her curiously. “Don’t you wish to put the people who took you behind bars.”

Marinette kept with her act of saying nothing, refusing to react to what Mr. Agreste said to her. Not that she had one, no police force in the world would be able to take the Temple or the Order down, especially not with the League of Shadows hadding their own protection.

“As we said, Marinette does not speak of what happened to her.” Sabine repeated. “The police believe, after hearing everything the therapist got from reading Marinette’s body language and listening to what she would speak of, that the people who took her are the type of people who kidnap young children to raise as their own only to get rid of them once they start to get too old. That they likely abandoned her where they found her and left her to survive on her own. That she wouldn’t actually know any real facts or details that could help the police find them since they likely lived under fake names in a different part of France if not in a different country.”

“Do you agree with what your therapist and the police believe?” Mr. Agreste asked her.

She just continued to look at him. While having a friend and making a larger friend group in general would help her fit in more, she wasn’t about to tell them what actually happened or confirm any speculation when it could get any one of them killed and bring her unwanted attention.

Mr. Agreste just gave a little nod of his head. “That will be all. My assistant, Nathalie, will escort you out. You’ll be informed of our decision soon.”

The dismissal was clear. The trio left the house behind, her parents insuring her that Mr. Agreste was a [asshole] (not their words) and that she would make other friends in time. To not let that get her down.

Marinette just sighed internally, a part of her wishing she could go back to being Min, being Tianshi, encased in darkness with Nuri as her only company. At least then everything around her made sense.

Three days later, Marinette was once again in Chloe’s room when Adrien bust through the door, his bodyguard behind him.

“Chloe,” Marinette chided.

“I didn’t invite him,” Chloe insisted.

Adrien smiled widely at her as he handed her a note.

She opened it to see a note, typed not handwritten, stating:

Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I have come to a decision.

You shall be allowed to hand out with Adrien from this point forward.

Gabriel Agreste

Marinette looked back up to see a hand in front of her. Adrien was smiling widely at her, his hand stuck out for her to shake. She slowly reached her hand out and placed it in his.

“Hi!” he said excitedly. “My name is Adrien Agreste. I can’t wait for us to become friends.”

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itsa-lie · 3 years

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The Birth Of A Liar Part Four

||Part One||Part Two||Part Three||Part Four||Part Five||

I can’t believe I’ve written four of these already... but now is when things get a bit more interesting.

Trigger Warning: Kidnapping,ne*dles,and mentions of past Daganronpa executions.

It’s six years later, Kokichi and some of his orphan friends are in an orphanage. They had been found out. The building that they used to use, all the things that they stole and all their shared happy memories were now collecting dust in a damp abandoned brick structure. The men in the uniforms were very thorough in their orders. All the children wearing the clown masks and costumes that Halloween night were to be brought in. The Tokyo law enforcement building was now up to the brim with rowdy children calling for someone named “Kokichi Ouma”, the child who disappeared so many years ago. Who was to know he was housing orphans or children from bad homes. Even the father killer Maki Haruwaka was found. Kokichi refused to talk, afraid to trust adults after what he’s seen them do. They’ve murdered three people, two of which were his own parents. Who’s to say these people won’t hurt his new family?

Though all they did was gather them up, give them a big dinner to eat (even bigger than the meals that DICE usually gives), before taking them to the local orphanage, Kokichi included. One would think that he would be a bit happy, he and the other Co Leaders didn’t have the weighted responsibility of the lives of over a thousand children. Though Kokichi was not relieved. He was even more worried. Especially since one of his ten Co Leaders didn’t come back. A day didn’t go by where Kokichi didn’t worry about Maki. Where did she go? Why wasn’t she caught like the rest? Did she and Goro go back to their real home? And what about Hanako? So many thoughts preoccupied his head that he almost couldn’t get himself awake that morning. Luckily the younger kids were able to wake him up, placing his hand in cold water and pouring water on him to make it seem like he had wet himself. The cold water wakes him up instantly, his body jolting out of bed in the sitting position. “Wha-?” He pulls his covers noticing the wet spot. “Oh great...”

The eruption of laughter from the children woke him up even more. Grogginess made it hard for the leader to realize but after seeing the cup of water, the squirt bottle in one child’s hand, and the small evil Kokichi Ouma like grins behind poorly drawn clown masks he notices that his pranking skills have been passed on to the future faces of his club. “Nyhehehe, you got me good. I’ll be down for breakfast shortly.”

Once he shoos the kiddos off, he puts on his boring school clothes and heads downstairs. Once he got there, a roar of laughter and chatting filled his ears. It was by the television set in the living quarters...what kind of event would warrant such a joyful response from the others? Perhaps a new anime show had aired? Curiously he approaches only to hear that God awful song in his ears. The wretched rock intro to one of his most despised shows on television. Danganronpa. The black and white bear character comes close to the camera, smiles evily, then cuts to scenes of...well...violence. Violence and death. And the kids were eating this up like candy.

“Hey! The next season of Daganronpa is heading to you this year, and we want YOU to be apart of it!” A cheesy announcer cheerfully gloats as the children watch with happy giggling. This made Kokichi feel sick. “We’re accepting audition tapes to find the next ULTIMATE. Do you think YOU can be the last one standing in the Killing Game? Then send a video to ———————- and tell us why you think you’re perfect for Daganronpa! You must be eighteen or older to register. Wearenotresponsibleforanymemoryortraumawhenyouapply.”

That last comment went a bit too fast and it was very hard to hear the announcer over the loud music, but all of this did sound fishy.

“If I was in the killing game, I’d kill everyone and no one would even know!” Exclaimed one boy, a boy from DICE given he has a drawn clown mask in his hands. Being the leader Kokichi had to step up.

“That’s MURDER. Killing is MURDER. You’re a member of DICE. You should know better.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Relax, Koki. It’s all fake. Do you really think a talking robot teddy would kill anyone?”

“Or turn them into butter? Or deep fry them alive? No that would be too horrible to be real but on television they can work their magic~!” Chimes in a girl, another one of DICE’s orphans. How could they like this?! Each time he saw another “body discovery” or even the way they executed the killers just....it was horrible! Probably edited with special effects and music for the audience but if you were there the music wouldn’t be and you’d be hearing every bit of pain they were experiencing. Why watch that? WHY give money to that!?

“Eighteen huh...oh yeah! Koki is turning eighteen in a few months! Why doesn’t Koki apply?”

“Yeah! Kokichi is the kindest bestest leader of our group! If anyone could win it would be Kiki!”

All the eyes were on him now and he...froze up? Even if he was a leader and the founder of an organization, being the center of attention for such a large audience not of just his members made him fill with anxiety. Watching his every move, listening to his every word, it was enough pressure as it was to have all these kids look up to you. “Uhh...sorry. I don’t kill. And I don’t expect to be killed anytime soon thank you very much.” What sort of leader would go back on his own word? Death was horrible. Glorifying death, glorifying grief and pain...he didn’t want to have anything to do with that sort of philosophy.

“You don’t have to kill! You can just uncover the mastermind! And with the prize money for winning we could build back up the headquarters and leave this place!”

Wait...prize money? There was prize money for a game about killing people? Or is it for the one who survives? The children continue to root for him to apply not understanding the real consequences of him doing so. The purple haired boy put his hand to his head to massage the ever growing tension that was slowly rising. “I-I dunno...I-I’ll see.” That wasn’t a very satisfactory answer for the children as they cried out in disappointment. This was a big deal...he couldn’t just decide to do this right away. His quick to act intuition had failed him before, and he tries to take what Maki said to heart to not make the same mistake twice.

All the children gathered around the table to eat breakfast. Honestly Kokichi wasn’t hungry at that moment. He would only nibble a little on his eggs and toast before telling the workers he was full. The others wouldn’t stop begging him to join and it made his stomach feel sick. He quickly left for school.

Walking through the halls of his high school, he spots a peculiar poster hung outside one of the AV Room. It had that bear on it. That grinning bear that so gleefully sends those people to their deaths. What was his name? Mononucleosis? Monogram? Meh. Who cares. The poster however had the words “Daganronpa Audition Sign Up” in big letters above the smirking ursine. Blinking a few times, Kokichi weighs the situation. If he doesn’t do something about this, more stupid kids will be sent to their death in front of millions of people. However if he somehow RUINS the game, maybe he could stop it entirely!

There it was. His new goal! A purpose to save everyone before they’ve tricked into this horrific trap!

“Are you here for the audition? Hellooooo? Excuse me?”

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a girl with glasses, her uniform wasn’t the same the girl’s wore here however...maybe she worked for Daganronpa? No...she was definitely a high schooler. Even her bag mentioned an “anime club” which was featured right across it. There was definitely no anime club here but he knew other schools had them. Kokichi turns to the female, his words stuck in his throat.

“Umm y-yeah. Yes I am.”

“You’re really short for an upperclassman. Are you eighteen?”

“Yes, I-I mean close to it. My birthday is in two months...” Shit why was he being so shy now? Yeah the blue haired girl was pretty, but he wasn’t attracted to her! Maybe it was the fact she works for a big television company and that intimidated him?

“That’s fine, the next season won’t start for three months anyway so I think you’ll be fine...” The girl then holds out a clipboard with many forms on it and a pen to use. Kokichi stares at it confused. The girl gives him a reassuring smile and waved her arms in front of her. “Oh no need to be alarmed by that, it’s just tv speak. You know, that we’re able to use your name and face and everything.” The girl explains. Well...she didn’t say anything about risking their real life...so maybe it was okay.

He signs in every page that needed it, hardly reading the fine print. The girl smiles and places the forms in another folder to make everything neat. However from the corner of his eye he could see a familiar sign of someone on one of the forms. The name “Maki Haruwaka” written on one form in the folder. His eyes went wide. No...it couldn’t be the SAME Maki Haruwaka right? She hated death as much as he did! Still knowing that she was still out there gave him a small amount of relief. Maybe he really shouldn’t have done it, but Kokichi spoke up.

“Maki Haruwaka signed up too?” The blue haired girl tilts her head looking curiously up at him. “Oh? You know her? Why yes! She goes to my school so I see her a few times in the halls. Oh that’s right! You two were running an orphanage together, right?” Kokichi nods hesitantly. He hasn’t seen her for a good six years, what could she be doing right now? Were her siblings safe as well? What about the other DICE members? “Aww that sounds like a good anime plot. I’ll have to look into if anyone has already done it.” she pushes up her glasses. “Anyway you want to use the AV room to record your video, right?”

“My what now?”

“Your audition tape!” She takes one video tape from a box to show as an example. “Don’t worry the tapes are private and the camera won’t start recording until you press the button on its control panel.”

Well that....was sort of comfortable he guesses. He nods and hesitantly made his way inside. The AV room looked a lot different then he thought it would. Most chairs were put up to the side, a square made of white tape stood on the wooden floor in front of a large television set and a camera mounted to the top of it. Gulping to himself, Kokichi gets closer to the camera. His shiny blueish purple hair illuminated the television screen as his pale face hides his features behind his bangs.

He reached up both hands and quickly slapped his face. Now wasn’t the time to be timid and scared. He had to do this. For his friends, for the children of the world, for Maki, for DICE.

Clearing his throat, Kokichi puts up the biggest smile he could.

Then moves the bangs out of his face a little, and finally presses the record button.

“Hello adoring public, the name is Kokichi Ouma of Tokyo Japan! That’s right, the kid who hid away with a group of orphans for so long!” They should remember the story, after all it was worldwide news when it happened. Then he places his hands behind his head in an attempt to look more laid back. “I’ve led a whole raid on Tokyo, though we didn’t do anything illegal...yet.” He does his famous evil smile, his finger to his lips. “I’m an AVID fan of the Killing Games and who better to be in it than me~? I promise I will be the most interesting contestant you’ve ever had~!”

And with that he stopped the tape. That lie hurt to say, it felt gross even coming out of his mouth. But he had to. He had to for the sake of his family. Now it was done. He won’t even tell the kids back at the orphanage he did it. If he gets in he gets in.

Now all there was to do was to go back to his classes like normal. Though he could have sworn he saw the blue haired girl watching him closely as he leaves...

——————

Days went by and there was nothing out of the ordinary. No announcements, no more audition try outs or blue haired glasses girl, just normal every day school day. Again the children woke him up by pranks, this time a bucket of cold ice water, making him scream high pitched before laughing and taking the joke. Then downstairs there were breakfast and the kids watching the Daganronpa rerun, and then it was off to school.

The day was normal. There was nothing odd.

Weeeelll...except for that black car following him. He could have sworn he heard someone ask if “that was the guy” and the other one affirming with a “yes”. Oh Lord legs don’t fail him now.

He tries to leg it but was quickly swooped up by...grey people?! That’s as much as he could see before he was grabbed. As he struggled for freedom, he could feel something get shot into him, like the booster shots they get. It did hurt for a second, and Kokichi did twist and thrash for dear life, but suddenly his body felt...sleepy. He lets the exhaustion overcome him before he’s knocked out like a light.

#kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #i can't believe I've written four of these #daganronpa v3 #daganronpa headcanons #daganronpa killing harmony

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rose-sunlight · 4 years

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Can You See The Sparks?

Pairings: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Ray Holt/Kevin Cozner, Charles Boyle/Genevieve Mirren-Carter, Sharon Jeffords/Terry Jeffords

Warnings: One mention of childbirth (non-graphic)

Summary: The Squad get together for a Fourth of July party!

A/n: This is for the @b99fandomevents Summer 2020 Fic Exchange written for @impossiblyizzy! Hope you enjoy!

One thing that Jake had never known throughout his years of knowing Captain Holt and his husband: they had the biggest back yard he’d ever seen growing up in the rough parts of Brooklyn. They had a large brick patio, and their garden was surrounded by a stereotypical white picket fence. The grass was perfectly watered, and Jake knew that Kevin had probably calculated the exact amount of water his grass needed to get that specific shade of green, Jake wouldn’t expect anything less.

Upon seeing their yard for the first time in daylight, he’d immediately suggested a Fourth of July party around their house. What with the arrival of the latest Nine-Nine baby, Mac, Amy was desperate to get out of the house, meaning their tradition of going to the Peralta-Santiago household would have to be put on hold so the new parents could finally feel more—well, human.

It wasn’t that Amy didn’t want to host, Amy loved hosting parties and conversing with her colleagues, but when she had a screaming baby attached to her, wailing because the noise, or the lack of his father by their side (yes, Mac had turned into a daddy’s boy), or the lack of food being delivered directly to him. When Holt and Kevin had agreed to his suggestion, and invites had been given to the squad and their families, he could feel Amy’s tension around the holiday ease and evaporate, even after Mac had thrown up on her uniform before she left for work.

So, here they were, on the Fourth of July, surrounded by the Squad, their family members, and pets. Although most dogs had been left at home (Charles and Genevieve could not bring their six dogs through Kevin’s freshly vacuumed house). Diaz had however fought to bring Arlo, considering him as her plus one as she had no family members coming. So, on their perfect green grass that had probably cut with nail clippers, Cheddar chased after Arlo, brushing past the legs of Terry and his wife, arms slung around each other as they watched the twins and Ava play tag with Nikolaj and Iggy.

The kids careered around a large oak tree at the back of the garden, spinning around as they laughed, running back towards where Charles and Genevieve manned the barbeque, all different assortments of traditional American foods sizzling on the grill. That wasn’t all, though, as Kevin was cooking pizzas and making potato salad, cakes, casseroles and more. Kevin worked side-by-side in a comfortable silence with Rosa as she made cocktails for the adults.

“Can you pass the potatoes?” Kevin asked, quietly and without small talk. He was observant, and throughout their years of small conversations, Kevin knew all too well that Rosa hated small talk.

She passed them wordlessly, watching him as he began to chop them up for the potato salad.

Rosa hovered as she went to pick up the cocktails, turning to Kevin once more, “What made you change your mind about us?” She asked, “I mean, you hate cops.” Her mannerisms were blunt, Kevin knew she wasn’t trying to offend; she was just a very direct person, and he respected that more than he did others. He did, however, had to think about her question.

When did he start to trust his husbands co-workers? “I don’t hate the individuals. I dislike some aspects and prejudices in the system, yes, but I never hated anyone.”

“Oh.”

“If I had to pinpoint the moment my feelings around the nine-nine changed, it would be mine and Raymond’s anniversary, when Charles taught him how to cook. It was quite memorable.”

Rosa nodded “Oh,” She said again, unsure how to either end the conversation or continue it “well, I am…glad you don’t. Like, hate us, anymore.” She responded in her most sincere voice.

Kevin nodded towards the drinks on the side “Those cocktails can go on the table outside. Use coasters, though, please.”

Rosa nodded, leaving their kitchen and passing the living room, where Amy and Jake were sat with Holt, Gina, Scully and Hitchcock. Surprisingly, through the first few months of Mac’s life, Hitchcock and Scully had been surprisingly attentive towards Mac and Amy. Jake would never admit it, but Scully was responsible when it came to children, and he did feel bad that his two kids refused to talk to him since they had grown up.

Mac sat with wide eyes searching around the room, looking up at his grandpa Ray, who was bouncing him on his lap. Amy didn’t think she’d ever seen her Captain so relaxed and smiling, cooing down at the baby occasionally in between leisurely conversations with the small gathering sitting in his living room. Granted, his kind of cooing was a lot more observant than most, saying things like “did you know you have the perfect weight for your age right now? Yes, you do, McClane, you’re perfect!”. Holt and Kevin were the only ones who would call Mac by his full name, which made it personal to his grandpa and grandad (because if we don’t have separate names, Jake, how will he call for us individually?).

The food began to pile high on the outside table, and soon enough, everyone was called to eat. Specifically for this gathering, Kevin had brought a smaller table for the kids to eat at, and was enjoying watching all the kids have their own conversations at the table, most lead and dominated by Iggy, whose presence was as infectious as her mothers, who was also leading the conversation at the adults table. Kevin looked down towards Mac, who had been passed to him now, and adjusted the baby so he was more upright on Kevin’s knee, his arm wrapped around Mac’s torso protectively. Kevin smiled at the thought of Mac joining the kids table in a few years, and smiled even larger at being able to watch him grow. Raymond offered him the bowl of salad he had prepared previously, knowing he wouldn’t eat the burgers or anything that greasy. He gratefully accepted, and settled into a cycle of eating his food then paying attention to Mac.

“Oh, wait, it’s nearly seven, we need to be at the field at nine p.m.,” Amy said, nervously checking her watch

Charles, ever the time-sensitive character, began to sweat and fidget in his chair, eating his burger as quick as possible—he had wanted some more unique 4th of July food to be served, but Holt had restricted him to strictly traditional meats, “oh, uhm, it’s fine, if we leave now, we can probably make the end, right?” He turned to his partner, who took his hand and calmed him down.

Gina groaned, “Oh my god, you guys, don’t get your panties in a twist. We’ll be fine, if we’re late we can commandeer a bus or something.”

“How long does it take to get to the park?” Amy ignored Gina and directed her question to Kevin, her eyebrows furrowed.

Kevin checked his own watch “Only a seventeen minute walk. We’ll be fine, Amy.” His voice was reassuring, and so she relaxed, nodding happily. When it was time to go, Holt disappeared into their back room, digging through the things he had brought for the kids, and reaching the best fourth of July tradition—sparklers. He handed them out to the kids (with parental consent, of course,) and watched them happily hold the unlit sticks as Kevin went around and lit them.

Cagney and Lacey began to act out a wand battle worthy of being in Harry Potter, crying out curses that made Jake start to laugh too, practically begging Amy for a sparkler too. She nodded with a laugh, and watched him childishly join in with the twins in their battle.

Nikolaj and Ava, despite their five-year age gap, wrote each other’s names with the sparklers, and then began to circle and dance with the sparks, all the time being warned to be careful by their dads. Iggy was in her own world, twirling around like a princess, dancing with her sparkler like she was a ballerina preforming for the masses.

Mac watched all the pretty lights from his stroller, making grabbing gestures and watching his dad dancing around with Cagney and Lacey. Amy noticed, when she checked on him for the fifteenth time, that he was laughing, full on laughing, for the first time. His giggles were indistinguishable from those of the other kids, but she started cooing, and Mac laughed harder, looking at his dad dancing around.

“Jake!” She called out to her husband, who span around “Jake! Jake! Look, he’s laughing!” She excitedly informed him, and Jake looked to Mac, and felt his heart burst. His son was laughing at him. He’d smiled before, but at four months old, he was uncontrollably giggling.

Uncle Charles appeared, phone in hand, “Ohh! I captured the moment, Jakey, don’t worry!” He patted Jake on the back

“Thanks, Charles.”

The group set off walking to the park, the kids taking turns pushing Mac’s stroller, giving Amy and Jake a break, even if they had to make sure the stroller wouldn’t capsize.

Amy was talking with Sharon, who, throughout her journey into motherhood, had been a source of comfort. They often bonded over their experience of labour at the precinct, too, even if Sharon didn’t have to give birth there.

“You’re doing good,” Sharon reassured her, “when we had our first babies, we had almost no clue what to do. You’ve either done your research or are a complete natural.”

Gina nodded, the one and only time a compliment regarding Amy had ever slipped from her lips “Yeah, I mean, when Iggy was Mac’s age I was neck-deep in barf and decaf coffee.”

Amy blushed; compliments on her parenting had become the most gratifying thing to hear (other than ‘don’t worry, I’ll feed him this time’, of course). She found herself a little lost for words, but regained them fairly quickly “Well, I had younger brothers and little nieces and nephews growing up. And I read almost every book there was on…everything. Wasn’t prepared for birth, though.”

Sharon and Gina both winced “Yeah, they don’t put that in the lovey-dovey books, do they? If they did, I don’t think a single woman would want to go through that.” Sharon said

Amy could only laugh her agreement, hoping that the word ‘episiotomy’ would fall out of her memory and vocabulary one day.

When they arrived at the fireworks, the carnival was already in full swing. Terry had been bribed by all three daughter’s pleading eyes, and so far, all three had won a teddy bear (the biggest from the surprisingly easy strength test), and Terry was out a good twenty-five dollars on games and fair-rides. Gina probably had lost the same amount, although she had spent everything on the rides; Iggy never really wanted anything from the games booths, which must be a first for any child ever, Gina had tried to convince them. Charles was out much more, and Nikolaj was now a proud owner of a tiger, teddy bear, and a DIY crystal kit. He’d also been on every ride conceivable with his parents, and was currently sharing a huge wad of cotton candy three-ways.

Holt and Kevin watched as the kids came up to them after every win, proudly displaying their new item for the pair to hold while they went off to do another ride. Holt would smile, and actually mean it. After Ava dropped off her final win, a mock-forensics kit, she turned to sit in between the two of them.

“I want to be like you and daddy, Uncle Ray!” She had told him (Ava called them Uncle Ray and Uncle Kevin, because grandpa never felt right for the Jeffords family), and Holt had wrapped his arm around her and let her snuggle in close—for warmth only, he was sure.

“Really? Well, I have a few friends at the academy, Ava, I will make sure that they have a spot open for the class of twenty-thirty-six.” He said it deadpan, as he often did, but Kevin knew there was a touch of sincerity to his promise too.

“Promise?” Ava had asked, extending a gloved finger.

Holt looked at his husband, who was smiling back “Oh, I suppose I do promise.” He said, shaking her pinkie finger with his. She skipped off to tell her dad, leaving the couple alone.

Kevin laughed as Terry listened intently to Ava relaying the story, before looking to Raymond “Do you ever think about how we have managed to adopt a fully-fledged, albeit slightly delayed, adult, and somehow become entwined in others’ lives, so much so that we are now uncles and grandparents?” He asked.

Raymond pondered for a second, watching the separate families “yes, it is odd.”

“Do you ever regret not having kids….adopting them?”

“It was never allowed when we were in our prime.”

Kevin nodded, looking towards where Ray was staring Jake, grabbing Amy by the waist and kissing her softly, while still keeping one hand on the stroller, “I know. I just sometimes wonder how it would be different.”

“I do too. But, although we are late, I do think of Peralta like a son. We’ve watched him grow over these few years, from a childish boy to a grown, responsible man with a family. Who is still a childish thorn in my side, if I am honest. I think that describes having a child perfectly; watching them grow.” Raymond seemed sentimental—to anyone else, his voice remained unwavering, but to Kevin, he could sense the fondness, the same fondness that he himself carried.

“I would not change it, either.”

“I know you wouldn’t. He’s strangely ours.”

Nikolaj came running up to them, barrelling into their conversation with brazen confidence, the same type his father and mother had, “Mister Kevin! Mister Raymond! The fireworks are going to start!” He had run off as soon as he had arrived. He never called them uncle or grandpa, but that was okay, because Kevin and Holt both knew he had issues with attaching himself to others due to his past. They never asked it of him, anyway. Kevin stood up, dusting off his pants, and began to grab the various toys left with them, before parents came to try and help them out.

The squad and their families all huddled in a muddy and cold field, making sure they didn’t lose anyone in the massive crowd forming, most kids sitting on the shoulders of adults. Jake had Iggy on his, who was pulling his hair softly to direct him on where to go, all the time giggling as he obliged to her requests, before standing next to Amy.

The display was amazing, colours of red, white and blue flashing across the starry night sky canvas, painting it in different colours before sharply dissipating. The crowd would let out ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ every time something vaguely interesting happened, and Jake couldn’t help but join in, looking to Amy, whose face was perfectly illuminated in a glowing bright light. He squeezed Iggy’s hand, yelling up to her.

“Can you see the sparks, Iggy?” He was looking at Amy, who had rolled her eyes at the cheesy joke, but for Iggy the meaning was the fireworks, obviously.

“Yeah, Uncle Jake!”

Amy wrapped a hand around his waist, allowing herself to be embraced, dodging Iggy’s leg as it swung in the air “Eyes on the fireworks, Peralta.”

Jake leaned into her touch, “Baby, you’re a firework. Katy Perry, she’s always right.” Amy giggled, but it was drowned out by another loud boom. Mac had big ear protectors on, but his eyes still flickered across the sky. Amy’s heart swelled again, her family surrounding her as the fireworks spurred on.

She was so glad that they were invited to Holt and Kevin’s. This was just perfect.

Little did they know, Holt and Kevin had already decided between themselves to make this a tradition to carry on for decades.

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#brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago #ray holt #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago fanfiction #peraltiago fanfic #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #b99fandomevents

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incorrectprodigalsonquotes · 5 years

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Carved in the Cradle

Chapter 1

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

A young woman, couldn’t be older than thirty, had carvings cut onto her body in a most disturbing way. Hearts of all sizes sliced into her skin along with a large knife wound in her back. Her blue eyes wide, blank and lifeless.

“Victim’s name is Arianna Walters,” JT announced as Gil and Malcolm walked in.

“When was she found?” Gil asked.

“About three hours ago when a cleaning lady came into the apartment.” Dani explained

“What do we know about her?” Malcolm asked as he knelt to examine the body.

“She’s twenty-right. She worked as a fourth grade teacher at a nearby elementary school. Much like our last two victims, there’s no obvious connections as to why they would be targets.”

“Yet she has similar markings as the last two.” JT said with frustration.

“Not quite, this time, the markings are hearts, not stars. Clearly whoever did this…” Malcolm started as he stood up, “Clearly wanted to make it seem like she had been tortured.”

“Seem like?” Gil questioned.

“She was stabbed first. The knife wound clearly would have killed her within minutes and she wasn’t bound, nothing to suggest that she put up a fight. No, our killer wanted to cause her pain but didn’t want her to feel it.”

“Bright is right.” Edrisa said as she finished examining the body, “I don’t have exact time of death but she was killed sometime after midnight and cause of death was in fact a knife or some kind of blade with a similar shape.” She shook her head, “The carvings on her body were created post-mortem, unlike our first victims. She didn’t feel a thing.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, “As far as torture killings go… this was a merciful death, almost like he cared enough to make sure she was dead before creating these marks on her body.”

“But why would he make her death merciful?” Dani asked, shaking her head, “She’s not his first victim.”

“That…” He started before he stopped and turned his head in another direction, “I will have to get back to you on…” He started to go down the hallway.

“Bright?” Dani called out. She and Gil gave each other a look as they followed him, leaving JT and Edrisa with the body. They found him by a closed door, his ear against the wood. They both reached for their guns, “Bright, do you hear something?”

He nodded, “I don’t think you need your guns though.”

Gil furrowed his brows, “Malcolm, what you talking about?”

“Listen.” Malcolm advised. It was faint but there was something there. He grinned, “You hear that?”

Dani raised an eyebrow, “That can’t be-”

“I’m pretty sure it is.” He pushed the door opened and the three entered a nursery. Malcolm sighed, “Our victim was also a mother. That’s definitely different from our other two victims.”

The nursery wasn’t anything too special. It was of a white and pink theme. Malcolm’s eyes fell to the crib. He took a deep breath and hoped to God that he wasn’t about to find another victim. He walked over to give a sigh of relief when he saw a baby girl in the crib. She was wide awake and unharmed.

“She’s okay!” He called out as Dani and Gil ran over to the crib.

The baby looked up at him with big blue eyes and gave a giggle as she clapped her hands. “She’s definitely our victim’s daughter.” Gil said, noting the same blue eyes and dark curls the victim had. The little girl raised her arms towards Malcolm and started grabbing at the air, giving a slight whine. Gil chuckled, “Bright, I think the little lady wants you to pick her up.”

Malcolm gave a nervous chuckle, “I-I don’t know-”

“We have to get her out of here anyway.”

Malcolm takes a nervous breath, “Okay…” He gingerly took the baby in his arms as she gave a tiny squeal. She relaxed her head on his shoulder, her tiny hand grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and she tugged on it slightly. She seemed comfortable but Malcolm was just trying to remember not to drop her.

Gil chuckled at the anxious look on Malcolm’s face as he helped adjust the baby in his arms, “You should place your other hand by her head so she doesn’t hurt her neck.”

“Right, right…” Malcolm adjusted the way he held her. Dani couldn’t help but smile at the baby girl who giggled when she made eye contact with the detective. Malcolm cracked a tiny smile at the happy baby but his smile quickly faded. She clearly had no idea what was going on.

Dani noticed the change in Malcolm’s face, “Come on, let’s get her out of here.”

Malcolm looked up at the decorative letters above the crib, “Isabella…” He smiled down at the little girl, “Come on Isabella, you’re safe with us.” He picked up the blanket and plush that were in the crib and Isabella was quick to grab hold of the plush with a squeak. With Gil and Dani’s help, they wrapped the baby in the blanket so they could get her out without her seeing the bodies.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Malcolm was walking back and forth, bouncing baby Isabella on his hip as she seemed content. After a much needed diaper change and getting fed, who wouldn’t be happy? “What do we know about Arianna and Isabella?”

“Arianna lived a relatively normal life. Went to college, got a job and just lived for herself.” Gil sighed, “Isabella was born eight months ago.” The woman never even got to see her child turn one.

“What about her parents?” Malcolm inquired, wondering if there was a family member to take care of the little girl.

“Arianna’s mother died in a car accident about twenty years ago and her father passed away from a heart attack three years ago.” Dani read off the file.

“Any siblings?”

She shook her head, “Arianna was an only child.”

“And Isabella’s father?”

“According to Isabella’s birth certificate, Arianna doesn’t know who the father is and if she did, she probably had no intention of sharing the information.”

Malcolm’s attention returned to the baby girl in his arms when she patting his face with her tiny hand. “Don’t worry; we’re going to find your family.” She patted his face again and gave a slight whine. He curiously raised an eyebrow and smirked, “What is it?” Her eyes started to collect water as cheeks puffed. Malcolm’s eyes went wide as his nervous energy returned, “Whoa, okay, seriously, what’s wrong?” Isabella just started crying and Malcolm was quick to hold her at arm’s length. He turned to Dani and Gil as his eyes were screaming with questions of what he should do.

“Hand her to me.” Dani said as she got up from her seat and took the baby from the profiler. Dani held Isabella close, letting the little girl cry as the detective started to gently pat her back and lovingly shush her. Slowly but surely, the eight-month-old started to calm down.

“That’s amazing.” Malcolm said in wonder.

Dani smirked, “Well, I grew up being one of the oldest cousins in my family so I was almost always given babysitting duties. Wasn’t so bad as it helped pay for my eyeliner addiction in middle school.”

“Still, you got her calmed down in less than a few minutes. You’re some kind of miracle worker!”

Dani smiled, “Or I’m just used to dealing with babies. You’re going to see why Isabella was upset in three… two…” Before Dani could finish, Isabella let out a very high-pitched burp. After her little release of gas, she started smiling and giggling again.

Malcolm, Gil and Dani all let out a chuckle. “So she was just gassy, not grumpy.” Gil joked. Isabella turned her head as her eyes landed on Malcolm once more and pointed at him.

She nearly lunged out of Dani’s arms wanting to go to him; luckily Dani was able to hold her back as Malcolm step forward to take her. “She’s clearly quite taken with you.”The detective smirked.

Malcolm chuckled as he adjusted the baby to sit comfortably in his arms and the little girl started attacking his shirt by tugging at it again, “I think she’s just fascinated by shirt collars.”

Just then JT walked in with a confused and slightly disturbed expression on his face. “JT?” Gil spoke up, snapping his detective out of it.

JT shook his head and looked to Malcolm, “Bright, some woman who looks way too young to be your mother is demanding to see you.”

As Isabella continued to tug on his shirt collar and gurgle, Malcolm’s face deflated into a look of pure exhausted frustration, “Oh God, no…”

Hey there! So this is not my first ever fanfiction that I’m writing but it is the first I’m writing for Prodigal Son, a show I honestly did not think I would like as much as I do. Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter of ‘Carved in the Cradle’

Please let me know what you think, I’d love to hear some feedback and hopefully, I’ve done the show justice XD

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #dani powell #gil arroyo #jt tarmel #edrisa tanaka #brightwell #this will be a brightwell fic #but like #it's like a side story #the main story involves Malcolm and this baby #and I'm just gonna stop talking before I spoil anything #prodigal son fanfiction #carved in the cradle

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years

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Roguish Women Part 10

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 9: Kate and Tommy meet Alfie Solomons.

Kate did her best to support Tommy on their walk to the Yard. The sky was clouded so there wasn’t much light to go on. They were slow-moving with Kate trying to keep him upright and to make sure he didn’t fall or misstep on the uneven streets.

When they made it, Tommy opened the gate and staggered through the entrance. “Curly!” He called hoarsely. “Get that stuff for when their legs go lame.”

“Tommy?” Charlie looked aghast at the sight of his nephew. “They said you’d be in for another three weeks.” He pulled up a chair.

“I need to get on a boat to London, now.”

Kate frowned. “Tommy, you didn’t say anything about London. You need medical attention!”

“The lass is right, Tom, you’re burning up.” Charlie agreed.

Tommy just shook his head, the motion throwing him a bit off balance. “I need to sleep in the open air. Do you have a boat here?”

Kate ran a hand through her uncombed hair. She glanced behind her to where the gate was ajar. She could just go back home, get under the covers, leave Tommy to his own work. If he wanted to be a lunatic, he could do it on his own. But abandoning him didn’t feel right.

Coughing from Tommy brought her back to the conversation. “If I sleep all the way, it’s Camden Town we’re headed for.”

Kate helped him stand up. “Why are we going there?”

But he wasn’t ready to explain anything quite yet. “Tell Polly she’s in charge while I’m away. If I don’t come back, tell her she’s in charge for good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It stunk of canvas and cigars under the covered boat. But Kate knew she had to watch Tommy. He slept for a good deal of the trip, only stirring every so often when the boat rocked.

In the faint candlelight, she could finally take in his injuries. Nearly his entire face was swollen from the beating he’d taken. The way he slept too made it evident that he was sporting at least a few broken ribs.

Kate didn’t have much of a nurturing background but she felt she could at least get Tommy to last the few days it would take to get to London. She kept a cold cloth on his face to try and help his fever. Every few hours she tried to get him to wake for a drink of water. He was mostly incoherent until they were two days in.

He began to sit up for longer periods of time and could hold a better conversation with Kate. More than just mumbles and groans of pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here.” Kate handed him his cigarettes. “Halfway there, ‘least that’s what Curly says.”

“Thank you.” He replied quietly.

“So, can I finally know why I’m on a boat headed for London?” She sat down near him.

Tommy struck up a match and took a few puffs of his cigarette before answering. “Alfie Solomons.”

Kate recalled the Shelby boys telling her that name a long time ago. “He’s a bookie.” She remembered.

He nodded. “Ready to do business with him.”

“And why do you need me to come along?” None of it made much sense to her.

“He’s not just a bookie. He makes rum as well, so I’ve heard. And you know a bit more about the American market. Things he might be interested in knowing.”

“So, you want me to help you help him smuggle rum into the states?” She connected the dots. “And this couldn’t wait until you were healed?”

Tommy shook his head. “I’ve got men after me. After our trip to London, we’ve stirred the pot.”

Kate just sighed and shook her head with a smile. “I had a feeling you would. But I’m not one to tell you, ‘I told you so’.”

“That’s why I like you.” He paused to take a couple more drags of his cigarette. “So, you’ll help me?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” She stood up, or at least as most as she could inside the boat, and grabbed a cloth. “Will you let me clean your cuts?”

“Best they don’t get infected.” Tommy lowered his cigarette and let her start to dab at the cuts on his face. “Fever’s going down so is the swelling in your eye.” She observed. “It’s full of blood though.” It was unsettling to see blood pooling around the striking color of his blue iris. “You just need to be careful.” She checked the cut on his cheek. “This is the deepest one.” She remarked.

“Will it scar?”

“Most likely. It might fade over time if you leave it alone.” Kate had her experience with scars over the years. Most of them she hid cleverly with clothes or makeup. But bare in front of the mirror, she looked like she’d been to war. She went back over to wash the blood from the cloth. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Tommy grunted as he laid back down. “Not yet.”

“Get some sleep then.”

~~~~~~~~~`

“Tommy!” Curly called from the helm of the ship. “We’re in Camden Town now!”

Kate emerged from beneath the canvas with Tommy behind her. She smelled the smoke and soot that was common to London. Birmingham was bleak but London was teeming with ill will. She could feel it in the air.

The second they docked; men were there to question them. Tommy explained they were there to see Alfie Solomons. The men, all wearing hats or yarmulke ushered them to a large warehouse building. People were going in and out, busy with shipments.

At the front doors, Kate and Tommy were greeted by a young man with curly hair. He instantly went about patting Tommy down to check him for weapons.

He glanced at Kate but she simply crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t even ask if I were you.” She warned.

“Put ‘em down, Ollie.” A rough voice came booming down the hall.

Kate glanced around Ollie to see a broad-shouldered man heading towards him. He certainly didn’t look the part of a large gang boss. Wearing a simple, disheveled linen shirt, vest, and an apron around his waist, Alfie Solomons looked like a common worker at first glance. But Kate had learned from her time as a courtesan to look beyond clothing. She’d been taught by some wise women that anyone could dress the part of a gentleman. The real money and the real identity were down to the details.

Alfie wore rings on nearly every single finger. He had a gold bracelet on his wrist. A gold pocket watch was attached to his waist. Glasses hung from his neck on a chain that looked like pure silver.

Wealth aside, he had the tells of a very dangerous man. Tattoos inked both of his hands. A large scar ran down his right cheek. He carried himself like a soldier. Just as Tommy did.

“You always bring women along to meetings with you?” Alfie raised an eyebrow.

“Miss Rosseau’s a part of me company and I think her knowledge could be very useful to you, Mr. Solomons,” Tommy replied. “I think you’ll see that she’s not any ordinary woman.”

Mildly interested Alfie nodded and beckoned them over. “Want to take a look at my bakery? We bake all sorts. We bake the brown bread, the white bread.”

Kate took stock of what they were dealing with. Beyond Alfie’s strength on the tracks, the distillery wasn’t anything to snub. The warehouse was stocked full of barrels but she had a feeling production could increase if the market allowed them to. Tommy was right, Alfie’s rum could be ready to ship out to America any moment.

“Try some bread, love?” Alfie redirected Kate’s attention to a table with bottles.

“I’ll have the white.” She agreed.

“Ah, see there. There’s a woman who knows her booze, aye?” He chuckled and handed her the glass. “C’mon then.” He continued them on to his office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kate didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was worried about Tommy’s health as they sat down in front of Alfie’s desk. He was in a much better condition but he was still limping and she could tell his ribs were bothering him. Still, she knew he needed to maintain a strong image in front of the Camden Town boss. So, she tried to ignore it.

“Well.” Alfie sat down. “I’ve heard very bad, bad, bad, things ‘bout you Birmingham people. Aye?” He tutted. “And you, love, don’t know where you fucking came from with that accent, right, but you’re hanging ‘round with them, ain’t ya? You a gypsy like him then? They have gypsies in America?”

Tommy spoke before Kate had the chance. “Kate and I came to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.”

Something changed in Alfie’s expression. His brow furrowed and his sea-colored eyes flicked to her. “Kate, is it?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Funny, that is. Yeah…I’ve got ears everywhere in London, right? I hear things. Things I need, things I don’t. Don’t fucking matter, I remember every bit of it. Just in case, think that’s savvy, innit?” Alfie ran a hand over his beard as if he were pondering something deeply. “And there’ve been rumors, whispers ‘bout a man from America. An Italian who’s looking for someone.”

Kate’s blood ran cold and she fought the instinct to run. Unsure if it was a trap, she subtly glanced to Tommy. He seemed a little uneasy by where the conversation was going too. But he touched her chair as a gesture of assurance.

“Pretty blonde woman named Kate Lynch. Should be living in Birmingham. Says she’s American by birth.” Alfie continued.

She smiled at him. “My last name isn’t Lynch, Mr. Solomons.”

“Oh, but we can all change our names. Can’t we? To, er I dunno, avoid coppers, debts, jilted lovers, aye?” Alfie’s eyes narrowed. “So, what was it then? You leave ‘im at the altar? Ran away with his kid? Ran away with another man?”

“I think she’s unsure of what you’re talking about, Mr. Solomons.” Tommy stepped in.

“Well, see the thing is, you walk into me office, right, with a woman who’s wanted by Italians.” Alfie retorted firmly.

“She’s got ties to the American markets. Men who would be interested in your rum.”

Alfie fiddled with the handle of one of his drawers. “So that’s what you’re tryna sell me then?”

“My services could be offered to help smuggle your rum anywhere you’d like. I propose we join forces.”

“Fuck off.” Alfie rolled his eyes and leaned back in his desk chair. “No! Fucking ridiculous.”

“Mr. Solomons.” Tommy leaned forward. Kate noticed him wince. “Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent, the rest is from the tracks. I’m offering you two solutions. You expand your market to America with your rum with the help of Miss Rosseau. I’d help with that as well. Me other solution deals with your biggest problem.”

Alfie glared back at Tommy. The man continued to glance at the drawer to his right. The movements were making Kate uneasy and she subtly moved her hand into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her pistol.

Tommy continued. “I know you offer a deal or death. But Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses and closing down premises that take your rum. No one trusts your protection anymore.”

Alfie pointed at him. “You’re the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right?” He diverted the conversation. “You did, you fucking betrayed him, mate. So it would be entirely appropriate to do what I’m thinking in me head right now.”

That was an open threat to Kate and she tensed up.

Tommy wasn’t swayed. “I can offer you a hundred armed men and a new relationship with the police.”

“Intelligence,” Alfie ignored him. “Is a very valuable thing, innit? Usually, it comes far too fucking late.” He shifted his left hand down and whipped out a gun.

Kate reacted before Tommy could even breathe. She took out her gun and pointed it back at Alfie. Her heart was beating in her chest but her hand was steady.

It wasn’t clear on Alfie’s face whether he was expecting her to be armed or not. But he didn’t back down either. “So, she’s just your purse for weapons, is she, mate? Men don’t want to frisk a woman so you give her a gun.”

“I’m not an object,” Kate replied through her teeth. “I’m just smart enough to know when I need a gun.”

Alfie’s mustache twitched and he cocked the gun. “See, I could’ve already shot him. Right in the fucking head. Then what? You’d shoot me, aye? You’re really that loyal to ‘im already? What happens after that? Me men come in, maybe they shoot you. Maybe they take you and hand you over to the Italians. I know who you are. You’ve got an American mobster after you and who knows how much he’ll pay to have you returned.”

“I won’t be sold to anyone.” She hissed and cocked her gun in response.

Alfie just let out a chuckle and set his gun down. “You’d give me men hell, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t make it out alive, granted, but you’d try to kill anyone in your path.”

Kate slowly lowered her gun but kept it near. She looked at Tommy and saw that his nose had started to bleed. She reached into her purse for a handkerchief and gave it to him. She cleared her throat and looked back at Alfie. “If Italians are looking for me, so be it. They’ve been hunting me down for years, they won’t succeed. But for you, Mr. Solomons. What’s a bigger way to say fuck you than to work with someone they’ve been unable to get for so long? I have contacts in America, bootleggers, police, bosses. No one in the operation will be caught. No one will interfere with it. I don’t need a big cut of the money. The majority of it can go to you and Tommy. The only thing I ask for is protection. Contrary to what Tommy says, I trust your protection.”

Alfie studied her, stroking his beard. “So, you’d trust that I wouldn’t sell you out.”

Kate didn’t flinch, keeping her eyes right on him. “Every man who has tried is dead now.” She replied coolly. “So, I suppose that’s your decision.”

The Jewish man chuckled. “Draw up a contract then, Mr. Shelby. Include Miss Rosseau in it and we’ll discuss matters further.” He reached over to shake Tommy’s hand.

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