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fallen-in-dreams · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

Hiya. Hope you're all doing well. :) So, I'm back. And this story is almost done. But I won't be updating every week - it'll be more like 1 or 2 weeks. The reason:

Sometimes chapters just want to get longer and longer and we really have no choice in the matter.

Unlike the last time I wrote out a fic in draft form then posted each chapter a week apart as I edited them, this story is trying to drive me crazy. 4k chapters turned into 6-9k and now THIS chapter is 11k. My editing process is squeezing that number count for all it's worth and it became so much of a chore. I really needed that New Year's break. So yeah, I'm going to slow it down a LITTLE bit. So I don't let it annoy me too much.

And I hope each and every one of you will join me for the rest of the ride. I can't wait to see what you guys think about what's coming. Cheers. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Eleven: To Kiss or Not to Kiss. ...

.:.

Oh love, believe me, Nothing ever comes to us easy, The river's never run up to meet me, Gotta find your own way down

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

Gaara stopped trying to figure women out a long time ago.

His argument with Sakura Haruno that morning weighed heavily on him all day. Whenever Gaara found a quiet moment or his mind would wander, images of pure fury and betrayal hounded him. Her pretty face screwed up in indignation and misery. He couldn’t get over the fact that Sakura had truly thought he was wilfully keeping her from her friends. It was just for a few moments but the level of pain that vibrated through her body still scared him.

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

So, he stewed in self-doubt all day, moving on autopilot as he went from council meetings to the lonely hours stuck working through tedious mission reports and high-level security reviews. Councillor Tōjūrō wanted this. Councillor Sajō insisted on that. And Councillor Ebizō inquired about their mutual concerns, via the not-so-silent Anbu they both trusted.

Gaara was beyond relieved when the working day ended, and he was able to leave. Most days, he stayed until late, and other times he simply took his work home. It had not escaped his notice that he worked too much. But what else was there? All he had outside of work were his siblings, and they had their own lives to deal with. So, most of the time, he had no-one.

And now her.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she called up to their house guest. “Dinner’s ready!”

Gaara clasped his hands together to hide the trembling of his fingers when Sakura finally descended the internal staircase for dinner. He forced himself to blink heavily to keep his vision from zoning out. Nerves and anticipation like he’d never felt before plagued him. It took all his willpower to keep from groaning in frustration at the strange feelings.

He watched pensively as Sakura sat down delicately. Swallowing heavily.

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“Date her, talk to her, and try to figure out how we can help her in the meantime.”

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

As the culinary genius of the family, Kankuro had cooked another magnificent meal. He was still in the kitchen, putting on the final touches as Temari started talking about how her own day had been. Since her decision to stay in the village she’d taken over the management of the guards and patrols of the village. Gaara didn’t know if she was trying to improve it or just scare them into line. Regardless, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he gave her free reign to do (almost) whatever she wanted to them.

Temari stood to help Kankuro lay the food on the table. Sakura was staring at a spot close to the internal staircase, her fingers drumming softly on the table.

“Go get that date organised.”

Planning outings was not his thing. He’d never asked anyone on a date before. Expectation hung in the air.

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

Dinner had always been a stiff but amicable affair. Every night, they’d sit around the main dining table to partake in one of Kankuro’s chef-level delights, talk would be minimal because they’d be enjoying the food too much to ruin the moment. But inevitably, someone would say something pointedly, and a casual, intermittent conversation would take place. Before Temari’s return, conversation would be carried by Kankuro’s attempts to make Sakura feel welcomed, strained as they were. Gaara would interject when he felt it necessary, with the occasional input from Sakura when addressed directly.

Since Temari’s return, his sister had not just driven the conversation, but wrenched it sideways and taken complete control of the reins. He wondered if was solely because of Sakura’s presence or a familiarity due to her connections to Temari’s former lover. Which begged the question of how much the pinkette knew about his fate.

Gaara gave a deep sigh that did not go unnoticed by the room at large. It all came down to lovers and friends and family, in the end. They were what truly mattered. Sakura coughed lightly and he glanced at her. Conversation would normally pick up at this point, but the air was unusually tense. He blamed himself.

Gaara hadn’t meant to hurt her by keeping the knowledge of her former allies from her. It hadn’t been vindictive. He just did not know where they were. He had his theories, of course, but nothing solid enough to act on. And this bothered him more than he could admit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or rather, Temari and Kankuro did, though they both paused a few times to glance at each other, like they were planning something. Temari had shifted to the edge of the seat, an eager look on her face. Sakura was pushing her food around on the plate, not eating. Like himself. Gaara had only taken a few bites before realising he wasn’t even hungry. And Kankuro was digging in, with gusto.

When Temari broke the silence, Gaara was grateful. For all of five seconds. Then he conjured a mental image of his hands strangling her.

“So…” She looked between Gaara and Sakura as she spoke. “It turns out one of the council members is a traitor, likely in cahoots with Danzo.”

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference that he didn’t buy for a second. She’d been trying to convince him to let Sakura in on his ultimate plans for the Leaf Resistance, the future of Suna, and this Cold War. His sister wanted too much. He told her so. He’d been telling her so. But now, the decision was out of his hands. Sakura wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Kankuro put his cutlery down and leaned back, watching quietly. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes. Gaara could almost hear him thinking, well this should be interesting.

Sakura stopped playing with her food and looked up at Temari after side eyeing Gaara. He braced himself.

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

“Through Lord Ebizō,” Temari said without hesitation. “Apparently, he’s been working with Gaara here.” She pointed her thumb at him as he scowled back at her. “They’ve found–”

“Temari.”

Kankuro made a soft sound the was halfway between a scoffed and snicker. Nobody paid him any mind.

Gaara glared at his sister. “She doesn’t need to know.”

She won’t be able to handle it, went unsaid.

He was aware of the insult to her person, but he couldn’t help himself. Kazekage or not, Sakura was under his care. She wasn’t one of his ninja. She was in no way his subordinate. Or professional equal. And as such, she was not to be privy to sensitive village information. He could not take responsibility for that. It was enough that he’d given Temari and Kankuro the highest security clearance legally possible for them simply because they were family. And the fact that they could handle it was beside the point.

This wasn’t a matter of trust. Sakura just wasn’t like them. Not anymore.

The pinkette scowled at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gaara sat up straighter. He matched her glare with one of his own. It was to be a battle of the wills, then.

.:.

Sakura did not pull her eyes from Gaara while Temari continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted.

“As you would know, communications between different Kage are always done in code or with a Kage-only sealing jutsu.”

Sakura nodded still staring at the Kazekage. She’d seen Tsunade pen letters to other Kage numerous times in both ways. Shizune had been a pro at transcribing the Hokage’s frustrated and eye-twitching candour to something more diplomatic. Sakura had never quite mastered that skill. Where Shizune excelled, Sakura fell behind. Where Sakura shined, Shizune’s skills were lacking. In that way, they’d complimented each other as Tsunade’s most trusted aides.

“Well,” Kankuro added, breaking his own silence. “Lord Ebizō came to Gaara with copies of transcribed missives that had deletion points in them.”

Sakura nodded again. A deletion point was exactly as it sounded. Information that was sent to Danzo must have been deleted at Suna’s end but not Konoha’s. It was off the record information. The only legitimate reason to delete parts of a message on the official, final copy, was for Kage level reasons. And this was clearly a deletion that Gaara had been unaware of.

What it even meant, she couldn’t say. But there was another problem.

“How…” she started softly, fighting to keep her staring match with the redhead. “How did he find it?”

It was a dangerous thing to do, but also difficult to detect. One might say damn near impossible, considering they shouldn’t have a reason for even looking for it. And whomever discovered the deletion point would have to be exceptionally skilled at Cryptanalysis. At the very least. Had it been Ebizō himself?

Temari answered her unasked question. “A new jounin found it. He wasn’t supposed to be there, apparently. Was just covering a shift for a friend. He’s listed primarily as a sensor ninja but apparently started his prior chunin career as a Cryptanalysis specialist.”

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who made the deletions.”

Of course. Sakura would be surprised if he had. So, this jounin had gone to Ebizō instead of the Kazekage? Maybe because it had been a Kage level security issue, he’d instead gone to the only person whose reputation was both impeccable as well as unquestionable.

“But how does that mean a council member did it?” Was she missing something?

It was Kankuro’s turn to answer. “Nobody in this room but Gaara could do it and we know he didn’t. The next line of suspects are the senior members of the council. Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō are the senior advisors who legally have access to Kage level information. Officially, anyway.”

Because of course the Kazekage reserves the right to not inform them of anything if he doesn’t want to.

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

Sakura blinked heavily. So, it could’ve been Ebizō but wasn’t, because he brought it to Gaara’s attention. So, he was the only one they could trust. Almost as though this whole thing was a test that Gaara had set up to suss out the reliability of his subordinates. Except that he couldn’t have predicted this jounin’s inclusion. It would’ve been a piss poor test if nobody found it.

Sakura tapped her chin staring back into Gaara’s seafoam eyes with something akin to calmness. Almost like she was a real person having a legitimate conversation.

Well, look at me, acting like a normal, functioning person. What would my mirror image hallucination think about that?

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

She didn’t know anything about Ryūsa beyond some murmuring that he might lead the council one day. Tōjūrō was a complete mystery. But Sajō? Oh, Councillor Sajō she knew. That was a face she’d never forget, the arrogant, pompous, prick. She had fantasies about strangling him with his own intestines on a daily basis. If she could, she would.

Her eyes drifted as Sakura imagined, once again, the choking sounds of the older man as she throttled him. It took a few more seconds and a clearing of Gaara’s throat before she scowled, realising what had just happened. In her distraction, she’d accidentally broke eye contact with him. When she looked back at him, the Kazekage was looking smug.

Shit.

.:.

Gaara couldn’t contain his smirk as Sakura broke their staring contest. Something clunking around in her brain had distracted her.

Good.

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.” Sakura mumbled to herself once more, angling her body away from Gaara and his gaze. He kept watching, his face falling into a frown as she ignored him.

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

Sakura pulled a face. “I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of being hounded by him. He’s an arsehole.”

“His personality is not evidence,” Gaara intervened, and she glared at him before turning away again.

Sakura pursed her lips. “I know it’s him.”

“Okay.” His brother was driving Gaara crazy. Temari added to the frustration by echoing his words.

He couldn’t sit here and allow this anymore. “No,” he said.

Sakura clenched her fists, her eyes darting over to the corner of the room; she’d jumped slightly, but there was nothing there to startle her. Sometimes, Gaara wondered about that. Hallucinations.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said.

It was a wonder his sanity was still intact, dealing with her. She slammed her fists down on the table, dislodging silverware and making his siblings jump out of their skins, but not so hard as to damage the structural integrity of the furniture.

“You promised,” she said scathingly, glaring openly at him, and he was reminded of their argument that morning. “You said you would tell me–”

“I said that we’ll talk later,” he corrected her.

“About the Leaf Resistance!” She yelled and Temari and Kankuro’s heads whipped towards Gaara. He could feel their confusion and surprise but ignored them. “About what you’re doing! You said we should talk. We need to talk. So, let’s talk damn it!”

“This cipher talk isn’t about the Resistance,” he growled. “Nor is the traitor councillor.”

“Do you know that for sure?” She snapped. “Or are you just presuming? What if it’s all connected, Gaara? What if none of it is a coincidence?” She was on a roll now, taking a deep breath before charging into her new hypothesis with gusto. “Danzo doesn’t want a strong alliance with Suna, and we all know it. I’m not actually here to marry you! What if my mission is part of a larger plan? Sending a Root member with me when those tiny little fucking bastards are not actually trained in diplomacy? You have to admit that’s suspicious! So, what if his connection with this traitor has something to do with the Resistance? Or to undermine Suna because he already has a highly connected ally within your walls! What if it’s all connected? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Gaara blinked heavily at her. Her deduction was quite the stretch. But crazier things had happened and he couldn’t think of a valid counter point, so he would be remiss to completely rule it out. He sighed. But this wasn’t the place to discuss this.

“I can help,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. He didn’t respond. “He won’t expect anything from me.”

“We don’t even know it’s him,” Gaara said. He was fighting with himself as much as her. He didn’t want to push her out of this, but it was political. And she wasn’t a Suna native. It wouldn’t be treason, but it would be dangerous. For both of them.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

He had no clue. Sakura’s face scrunched up as though she was in pain and her head dipped. She closed her eyes and he imagined she was struggling to calm herself. Was she having a panic attack? Gaara felt a similar spasm grasp his chest at the thought of having done this to her.

I can’t do anything right, with her.

She stood up abruptly, not looking at anyone. Her hands were balled into fists and Gaara’s stomach clenched painfully. Guilt. He felt the urge to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving this room angry. But nothing came to mind. He sat there, with his mouth slightly agape, unable to say the things she needed to hear.

Why?

There was a war in Gaara’s heart. The urge to protect her. The urge to respect her desire to participate. The urge to keep her far from the machinations of the evil of this world. He felt like he was being torn in too many different directions. But he knew that above all, he was being incredibly selfish.

With no regard for her uneaten dinner, Sakura stormed out.

He couldn’t release the groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. Gaara remembered he still had an audience and turned his head minutely to glance at them. Temari was frowning at him, her fingers tapping the table soundlessly. Kankuro was shaking his head, his lips twisted in barely controlled irritation. Gaara let that effervescent groan escape his mouth. He was an arsehole. He knew it. Because his siblings had never looked at him with so much disappointment before. Even when he let a demon out to play havoc on their village as a blood thirsty child.

.:.

When will I ever learn?

She was too emotional. Always had been. Weak. Pathetic. Emotional little girl. Expected too much of others. Presumed too much of herself. Stupid.

Sakura stormed up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door closed. She didn’t stop there, grabbing the cactus Matsuri and Yukata had given her (what else did she have?) and throwing it against the wall. Not the back of the door. No, not the chronicle of her timeline in Suna.

Soil spilled onto the floor, but the succulent remained firmly in the pot. The hardy bastard.

She let out a long-winded, slightly high-pitched groan. One minute Gaara was open and treating her like a human being and the next, looking down on her and breaking his promises. She felt so childish, but Sakura didn’t care. She wanted to rage and yell and pound some faces into the ground. She let her anger broil and seethe as she turned and threw herself at the bed. Head in the middle and feet dangling over the edge, she screamed into the blanket for all she was worth.

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

It was best to muffle her more violent urges. Noisy. Yes. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her screaming and to come running. If they would even. She scoffed. Sakura groaned, then rolled onto her back, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to suffocate herself. It wouldn’t be the first attempt since her arrival at Suna.

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

Sakura gripped the pillow harder, closed her eyes tightly and then screamed again. The muffled sound only made her ears pop. She sighed and sat up wearily. She needed to stop doing this to herself. After so long alone, Sakura had started to think she was a part of something. Maybe something special. Probably just something not toxic. Not dangerous. Kankuro was personable. Temari seemed genuinely happy to see her. But Gaara… fuck, she had to stop wanting more from him.

She shook herself and stood up as the mirage floated into the room, through that blasted window. Sakura’s heart raced and she shivered. Had the temperature dropped suddenly or was she just feeling the aftereffects of her panic attack? She watched as the mirage as it turned on the spot and seemed to only just notice her, glowering now.

“I hate you,” she said with conviction. I really do.

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

Its smile was cruel. Sakura closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed; hands fisted on her thighs.

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

She wanted to cry. A choked sob escaped her before she could stop it. No. She was in control of this. Sakura threw her pillow at the mirage. And of course it sailed right through that smug, broken, and bloodied face. It was happy and angry at the same time. How could something that wasn’t even real hold any emotions at all?

“Are you even trying to escape this stupid hell hole?”

No, apparently Sakura had completely forgotten she wanted out of Suna. How long had it been? She paused in her internal debate to glance at the back of her bedroom door.

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

Between wanting in on Gaara’s schemes and her ink creatures, Sakura still had no idea what she was doing. Her creations had scouted the village outskirts and even memorised the guard positions and patrol routes. There was no predictability to times, but the places were all the same. It was something to work with, at least. But it was getting her nowhere.

Twenty-five days and all she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Gaara didn’t want her help. Her creatures had probably escaped this hell hole, leaving her behind. There was nothing to do. Nothing but sit in her room like a good girl and wait out whatever plan Gaara and his siblings had. Once the traitor had been identified and proven they could then tackle the political mess Danzo had Suna entrenched in. And Sakura would be free.

And this time I’ll run.

She’d kill the Root shadow and run. Sakura grasped at her chest, grinning despite the hole in her heart. She didn’t notice the single tear at first. It contained all her hopes for being human again. She wiped at it, not sure what to think of it. But she was spared that particular, repetitive self-flagellation at the abrupt sound of a hiss. She started, spinning around quickly. Her kunai was still in the hole in the windowsill. Conveniently between her and the source of the disturbance.

I really need a better hiding place.

Or multiple kunai dipped in poison. Yes, that would be better. More kunai, more targets. She smiled ruefully at that, her focus snapping to the window. She breathed a sigh of relief when there was no attack but rather the shadows of familiar shapes.

They’re finally back.

The ink creatures. The vulture-like bird and viper shaped snake. They slid into the room through the open window, moving in tandem. Between the two of them they had a death grip on something. Something distinctly snake-shaped and presumably dead. A wide grin spread over her face, and they halted their movements.

“Yes,” she hissed. She inched toward them as the ink bird hopped impatiently, releasing its own grip. When she touched the real snake softly, the ink snake twisted its body, tightening its hold on the carcass. The snake was indeed dead. She sighed, relieved. That would make this much easier. The chemical make-up of venom did not change after the snake died. So, theoretically, she should be able to extract the venom and use it, no problem.

Sakura vividly remembered a description of the milking process from a snake husbandry book during her genin days in Konoha.

Press down on the back of the snake’s head after it bites the container. The fangs will drip out venom for at least fifteen to twenty seconds.

Those instructions had been for a live snake. She cocked her head at the dead one as it was still being half-heartedly strangled by living ink, at her feet. Well, hopefully its deceased status wouldn’t make a difference other than ease of access. Hopefully.

Do I do this now?

Normally, she’d wait for the other occupants of the household to go to bed before doing something she didn’t want to be walked in on doing. Right now, standing, staring, and contemplating her sanity carried a high risk of interruption.

Sakura glanced up at the clock. She’d only been back in the room for almost two minutes. It felt far longer. She sighed, resigned, and shooed her hand at the ink creatures. Trying to corral cats would be easier. They just sat and stared at her. Or rather, the snake remained motionless except for the occasional tightening of its possessive grip and the bird cocked its head at her. Much like she’d done a moment ago. Not that it made a difference if they suddenly started towards the bathroom or something, to keep out of sight. And this whole thing would be far safer if she waited, anyway. She’d already been waiting two days for their return to begin, what was a few more hours?

Still feels like I’ve been pacing impatiently for far longer.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions had settled. She felt so drained. But not exhausted. There was an old meditation technique that Lady Tsunade had taught her, and she was just scooting back further onto the bed to try it when Sakura paused, startled by the sudden rush of chakra.

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

“Is he here to apologise?” She’d forgotten about the mirage. Its singsong, mocking voice floated over to her. “I don’t think so.”

She inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sudden hiccupping sob that sounded from her mouth. All the anger and fear and feelings of resentment and abandonment that had just disappeared, all the tension in her body, suddenly returned with a vengeance. How could one person, so innately collected and calm, invoke such a raging storm inside her? She hated it. And right now, she hated him.

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

Fuck the mirage. She wanted Gaara to leave her alone. But she also wanted him to persist. To show her she was worth the effort. That he cared. Sakura wiped at her tears and attempted to make her face look presentable. Maybe he would give up. In that case the only person who would see her tears was herself.

He knocked again.

“Sakura?” That deep, soft voice. Gods.

What is he doing to me?

.:.

Moonlight filtered in through her window as Sakura stared at the door. The ink creatures twittered and hissed, respectively, nearby and she wasn’t ready for Gaara to see them.

“Think he’ll actually call you crazy this time?”

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

Right, he was still outside her room. She fought the urge to flee. It had been her default state since arriving in Suna and it was beyond exhausting.

And embarrassing.

She glanced at the snake and bird before slowly opening the door half a foot and holding tightly to the frame to keep him from pushing it open. If he had such a notion. Sakura forced herself to look him in the eye.

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

He nodded but before Gaara could respond, Sakura moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his chest, keeping her eyes on his. Pale green irises widened but he didn’t complain. Feeling more confident, Sakura pushed him gently and closed the door behind herself. In the hallway. Alone. Together. Her other hand found its way to his chest and Sakura felt his heart beat a little faster under her fingertips.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, her voice low and strong. Maybe. She had no idea. It just had to be strong enough to project confidence. Conviction she missed about her past herself. She was trying, really. “Let’s go to the roof.”

His eyes searched hers wordlessly, clearly trying to figure out what her plan was. What she was thinking. Why she was thinking it. Maybe even if she was trying to trick him. He’d deserve it, after that display during dinner, but Sakura tried for her most saccharine smile.

Seemingly convinced, he slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him, flush against his body. Sand whipped up around them and she couldn’t stop the light gasp for the life of her. Steeling herself, Sakura gripped harder to him as they disappeared from the hallway outside her bedroom and her centre of gravity shifted and they reappeared on the roof of the Kazekage mansion.

The cold night air hit her first. She shivered but didn’t complain. She expected Gaara to pull away immediately but his hold on her remained firm. Almost like it was his apology. Or he was working up to one. Sakura waited. And glanced around, remembering that the Root shadow would be able to see them from the outside, on the roof, even if he couldn’t hear them.

She could imagine that freak’s reaction if he was watching right now. Sakura remembered, one of the few times the masked man hadn’t berated her on their three-day journey to Suna he’d gone over her expectations on this mission. He’d expected her to lull Gaara into a false sense of security. To take advantage of him. To play the part of a girl being sold off.

Use your assets, he’d said, leering at her. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.

Danzo had not ordered her to sleep with, let alone woo Gaara, specifically. But it was in every look he’d given her before sending her off. It was in between every line in the official papers for this mission. Of course, she’d ignored it. Sakura hadn’t planned to be here this long. But here she was, with Gaara’s arm around her, and all Sakura could think of was that, technically, this was supposed to be a seduction mission. She hadn’t foreseen viewing Gaara as a sexual being. It had snuck up on her, now painfully obvious. Sakura knew it before but a part of her had also denied it, but it was true. There was no going back now. She wanted him.

Desperately.

But she was done hoping he would start anything. Gaara wasn’t like that.

Sakura started as his left arm came around to embrace her. His chin resting on top of her head, and he let out a soft sigh. It made her body tremble in response, and she wondered what he was trying to do if not turn her on. This was out of character for him. As far as she could tell. She inhaled deeply. And he needed to stop smelling so good too.

Because it’s hot as fuck.

She wanted to dominate him. The feeling wasn’t new to her but the chance to be the one in control, was. All she’d ever done is exude a fake version of confidence. Sex was methodical. A tool. To her, at least. And here was Gaara, making her want something else. Something more.

But how am I supposed to get that?

She had no idea how to instigate this. Reluctantly, Sakura released her hold on Gaara and after a few moments of what seemed like internal contemplation, he uncoiled his arms, removing them from her hips gently. Always the gentleman. Never the paramour. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards.

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

She needed to get this under control. This level of intensity wasn’t natural for her. It had to be a side effect of either the prazosin drug she was taking or her anxiety. Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. She wasn’t so stupid as to presume she’d survived the last few years with her sanity intact. And it would explain so much.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at Gaara’s words. He was sorry. She blinked stupidly at him.

“For everything,” he said.

She nodded slowly, licking her lips absentmindedly. Yes, he’d been an arse. She could accept this. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating how to go about the discussion she wanted to have with him. He kept eye contact, obviously content with waiting for her input. She tried to smile but her lips quivered.

Sakura sighed.

“Councillor Sajō. He came to a few of the wedding planning sessions,” she said, deciding on a change of topic. “He was abrupt but otherwise respectful to the other ladies. But he kept glancing at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “He didn’t like what he saw. And he hates me. I know it’s not a lot to go on,” she added. “I’m sorry I was so pushy and defensive about it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sakura didn’t think he had anything to base that on. Sometimes she thought he had a secret file that occasionally leaked information about her to him, in minute amounts; just enough for him to get glimpses into her psyche, but not enough for a deep dive. Enough for his pity to sting her. To burn. And enough for him to think her some kind of helpless victim.

She stood straighter, shoulders pushed back, and chin raised. Sakura had never been good at hiding her feelings, even after the Root commanded that had trained her in the early days of Danzo’s reign got tired of her lack of control. The man had very little patience for emotional outbursts. He could teach her all manner of underhanded jutsu and Root-based tactics but mental conditioning to suppress her emotions? She was never going to master that. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. There was no seal on her tongue. Danzo didn’t stick needles in her eyes and brainwash her. No, he just had his subordinates torture her. Poke her full of holes. Heal her. Fry her. Rinse and repeat. She was fun to play with, apparently. Even more so than some others because an unwilling servant could scream the loudest.

“The council has always been difficult,” Gaara interrupted her thoughts, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He looked past her, as though someone had appeared suddenly, and she had to refrain from turning to look. But there had to be nobody there because his demeanour didn’t change. “They do like to make up their own rules sometimes.”

“I can believe that. Especially after that councillor started having me followed.”

Sakura was adamant that Sajō had. The Root shadow never seemed bothered by it. He’d even laughed a few times when she’d stopped on her way back to the Kazekage’s mansion, sensing the darkening presence behind her. Escorted by Matsuri and Yukata, she was shielded by their presence. Their limited protection. But the moment she strayed again; Sakura knew all bets would be off.

And who knows what Sajō is actually willing to throw down?

Would he have her cornered and interrogated? Would he stoop to physically attacking her? Maybe an attack like that would-be-assassin? He was making sure she stayed in line. After their run-in at the council building, she showed herself to be a loose cannon. And if Sajō was in league with Danzo, then it was likely the Root shadow would help him.

She explained all of this to Gaara, leaving out how her contemplation on how far Sajō would go intrigued her. If the old man gave her a reason to fight back, she would. Gaara frowned, concern marring his features.

“It has to be him,” she said.

“It’s at least a place to start,” he agreed.

Sakura smiled widely at him, warmth spreading over her face. Was she blushing? But hope had burgeoned in her chest, and she didn’t care, either way. His eyes softened as he stared back at her, and she had to push down the sudden urge to throw her arms around him.

“I can help,” she said. It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but Gaara’s face shifted into stony seriousness.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She nodded. “You know… I can handle myself.”

“I know–”

“I just…”

Sakura glanced around the rooftop, remembering another night when he’d followed her up here and she’d killed a masked assassin. It felt like years had passed since then. Being here for the first time since then brought it all back. The blood on her hands. The rain gently trying, and failing, to wash it away. Her mind spasming in ecstasy at the opportunity to finally get to kill something. When she eventually turned back to Gaara she found him looking around in a similar manner, a faraway, contemplative expression on his face.

Does he think of that night often, too?

“We never talked about that night,” she said, and suddenly had his full attention again. “I killed a man–”

“Who was trying to kill you,” he interrupted, but she kept going, unimpeded.

“–right here. I tore into him. And I know you know I took pleasure in it.” She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky, and ignoring the way he looked pensive. “And I know you know… that I’m not…” She struggled to find the right way to explain how she’d lost the plot without sounding dramatic. But it wouldn’t come. Instead, she tried another angle. “Sometimes it comes in flashes. I’ll be okay one moment and then… I’ll just want to dig my kunai into something. Or even my bare hands. That ache. That desire.” She sighs. “I know you understand.”

Because you used to be out of control too went unsaid.

“And I see things…” She cut herself off quickly, not wanting to go further down that rabbit hole.

Gaara’s eyes had widened slightly at that admission, but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

Anyway…

“I’m not all there, I know. But I’m not so far gone that–”

“You’re not crazy, Sakura. You’re not worthless or useless or unworthy.” Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His hands twitched, like he too was fighting the urge for them to embrace. She longed for that warmth again, shifting the weight between her feet nervously.

He stared at her intensely and she swallowed heavily in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. They stuck in the corner of her eyes in warning, and she tried so hard to keep them from falling, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her hands. Whatever she needed to do. Sakura nodded her head in agreement even as she refused to accept his sweet words.

But her gratitude towards this man was so strong that she couldn’t restrain the single sob from ripping out of her mouth. Now, she couldn’t stop the light tears now gathering along her eyelashes, threatening to obscure her vision. Sakura hugged herself as Gaara reached out to wipe the tears away. He was so tender and considerate. She felt like she was going to break from his kindness. It was good. But it was also torture.

Even after his outbursts and stubbornness to keep her in the dark, she couldn’t begrudge him forgiveness.

Sakura sniffed and leaned into his touch lightly, even as she was unable to bring herself to look at him. He cupped her cheek for a few moments, just holding his hand still against her before slowly wiping at her eyes again. When he removed his hand completely, it wasn’t done hastily or roughly. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt calmer. More in control.

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

She started, looking up at him in surprise. That came out of nowhere. But to be fair, it was something they’d already talked about. Once she got over the initial shock, Sakura found herself smiling her way through the mild panic at the thought of officially dating him.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

Gaara smiled wryly. “I don’t sleep much, and you don’t… have to go to the wedding planner tomorrow.”

That was true. It was officially her day off. She’d planned to spend it in the training grounds and also use some of that time to hone her ink crafting skills again. Sakura no longer felt the compulsion to escape Suna, though a deep seeded feeling of unease from merely being in Suna still ate at her. Everything she did now was just to pass the time, out of habit, or necessity. But this… yeah, she wanted to change things up a bit.

“O-okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Let’s… uh,” she blushed, “go on that date.”

Gaara must have been thinking about this more than she realised. He rattled off a few ideas, all of which she could picture being interrupted and annoyed by the ever-present Root shadow in her wake. But several of the ideas sounded like they might just be in a no-go zone for her stalker.

Only one way to find out.

And it was a shame her mirage couldn’t be kept out of things as easily.

Sakura realised, as Gaara tentatively explained how this place and that place were in high security areas and had amazing views of the village, that of course the Shadow wasn’t allowed in all areas of Suna. She could’ve slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. It was even likely he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Suna’s shinobi academy. All of this must have been covered back when they’d arrived and Baki had run down official rules to them both. She hadn’t been paying attention back then.

So many places I could’ve lost him in. Buried him, more like.

“Something casual,” Gaara was saying, bringing Sakura’s attention back to their impending date. Were they just going somewhere casual? Or was he talking about their relationship? Or maybe what they were going to wear? Well, there wasn’t anything casual about being engaged. It was still a farce, but it no longer felt trivial to her.

Okay, she could do this. She cleared her throat. “Yes, casual.”

Was that a smirk?

“We’ll need somewhere with food,” she added, ignoring the flush that his smirk had invoked along her body. They were both acutely aware neither of them had eaten their dinner. But Sakura didn’t want some homemade food for this. “Or money to buy some.”

“There are a number of acceptable vendors open this time of night.”

“Right.”

“I asked you out,” he said, his face tinging pink. “I will pay any and all fees.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that, since she was flat broke. It wasn’t like Danzo cared to pay her for any of her missions. She inwardly scoffed at the notion. The only things she owned were from before his takeover or what she’d managed to steal over the years. She would have to go through the clothes in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Again. At least there more options to choose from now, since both Matsuri and Yukata had made a point of restocking that threadbare closet.

“And I’ll change into something less... I mean more comfortable.” She spluttered. “I mean something casual.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. They were a pair of tomatoes. “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

Gaara nodded, his smile infectious as she returned it before turning on the spot and leaving him alone on the roof. She hadn’t even thought to ask him to use his sand, perhaps because she was still subconsciously remembering the ink creatures. They needed to be dealt with first, before she went anywhere.

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

The night was alive with the sounds and lights that made up the heart of Suna.

And the hounding footsteps of her eternal stalker. The closer they moved towards the lights and sounds, the further the Root retreated into the shadows. It faded into the background but refused to disappear completely. She would not turn her head to give it the attention it craved.

Instead, Sakura took in the sights and sounds, feeling like a proper tourist for the first time in her life. Gaara took her down a small path that led from the Kazekage mansion to the larger maze of interconnected paths to the thoroughfare of the village. From this narrow road, all other paths diverged. And his chosen path opened up into a lively and festival area.

There was no official looking celebration or staged performance, but the atmosphere had a similar ambience to them both. And the people were in merriment as though there really was a carnival going on. Sakura wondered if this was a new thing, because of the tensions of the Cold War and people just wanting to forget for a time, or if Suna had always occasionally held large-scaled revelries. Civilians behind the walls of any village, hidden and safer than most, couldn’t understand what it was really like out there, surely.

Enough of the doom and gloom.

The Root shadow followed as they moved deeper into the edge of the festivities, where the crowd was thinnest, keeping away from the louder groups. Far away. Some people turned to look at them; they recognised Gaara, despite his casual long styled jinbei, but Sakura’s casual shirt and trousers would not have screamed her identity more than her shocking pink hair. Even drab, it stood out. Fortunately, the crowd was sparse, having died down from the dinner rush, which meant the menu selections were limited but that suited them just fine.

Sakura tried not to notice how many people there really were. Nor the concerned look on Gaara’s face when he clearly noticed her anxiety. A few vendors sat on the outskirts of this rabble and Gaara steered them towards the first of the street food merchants, his hand on the small of her back. Sakura eyed the yakisoba but ultimately decided on yakitori. Gaara chose the same.

“I cannot take your money, Lord Kazekage,” the flustered merchant waved his hands frantically, when Gaara went to pay for it. “A treat for your lady friend. On the house.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, not wanting to speak for fear of setting off her anxiety. There were enough eyes on her. And the Shadow was ever present, even in the background. She took a deep breath and followed Gaara as he led her to an open dining area that was mostly empty. They sat on the tableless chairs and ate, just enjoying the distantly happy atmosphere and their silent company. It was oddly comfortable.

There was a tradition in Suna, or so Gaara had told her on the walk down the paths to this district. He’d learned about it from his brother. Like bar hopping in Konoha, this was called stall hopping – on dates or festival nights, going from one vendor to the next, buying a single, small portion of food, then moving onto the next vendor to repeat the process. It sounded interesting. Having finished their seasoned chicken, they now had their meat. Their animal protein.

The next stall had to be different. That was the tradition.

With Gaara’s arm pressed lightly and confidently against Sakura’s lower back, they continued to the next stall, which specialised in rice and seaweed as their main ingredients. Here, the vendor owner also refused Gaara’s money and ladled their plates with a serving of Onigiri and a shrimp tempura roll and ushered them to some seats nearby.

Sakura supposed it was good for business too, having the Kazekage seen at their stall.

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

#GaaSaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction #A Beautiful Lie

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emilykaldwen · 1 year ago

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me sitting here rewriting the entire first half of chapter 8, adding 1k in the last hour and simply not feeling aesthetic enough. Which I blame on some indulging in some Gillian Flynn the other day at Half Price Books.

I'm in such a weird place in Maiden where the stakes are relatively low. I'm not dealing with the Dance, I'm dealing with the simplicity of young love, of growing up, of falling in love, falling out of love, of fighting and clawing, of retrospection and understanding, of sneaking into your fiancee's room at night to fingerbang her. The stakes are so low and it's something I desperately enjoy about this, because Maiden is the foundation of the story I'm telling. In the scheme of things, this is an eight month period that sets up the next five years (which includes the Dance). These are the foundational blocks that let Aegon and Abby make it through and hopefully survive what's all to come.

I guess I wonder sometimes why I started it here. I actually started this story back when they were young children, and you were going to get blocks of time of their whole history and then their engagement. I'm glad I ended up changing that (and those will make interesting side stories to post over the hiatus). I started it here because if I came into the start of the Dance, with Aegon and Abby married, like, there's no history there. There's no reason to be invested in their relationship, let alone any care for Abby as a character, right?

The stakes that do come into play in chapter 9 and beyond are still... low, and I guess that's the difference between external and internal conflict. Yes, there's external things happening, but Maiden is driven by the internal: the jealousy and the need, the loneliness and the longing, the navel gazing and the reaching out for a hand to hold.

I suppose I worry if I'll be able to pull the next arc off. It's a great unknown right now outside of a few plot points and events. I worry that I will continue to have little interest, that I'll miss the hype that'll come back around when the new season starts up and people are back into rolling around in the fandom and the stories and creating. I'm taking November off due to real life moving house things, and then I'll probably only skip a week in March, which means Maiden will be done posting in May and by that point, I hope to have a few chapters of The Princess and the Dragon Knight under my belt so I can start posting once the show starts back up.

Yes, I'm feeling introspective at 1:30 am on my day off. I'm happy with what I'm writing, and it's nothing a little proofreading and editing can't fix, but I do wonder if people are expecting more out of Maiden or if it's simply my own expectations there.

I think I just am in need of some kind of dopamine rush. And a side project to work on.

#tbd #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #I have to make a proper list of AUs and other projects I want to work on #so I can sit and flex another part of my brain

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itskateak · 1 year ago

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Hey, not wanting to push you if you’ve already answered this but are there gonna be further updates to Mint Ice-cream and bubblegum kisses?

The writing is fantastic and I’d love to see how it all ends

Hey, Anon! And everyone, really.

I want to finish that story. I really do. About once a week, I open the document and stare at it for an hour and then I just...close it. It's a bit of a writing slump, but there is another reason.

I've talked about my diagnosis with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome on my profile before. At least, I think I have. It might've been on a different blog. My memory is so bad these days.

EDS is a connective tissue disorder that heavily affects the joints. Usually, this is my knees, hips, and lower back. Anything from the waist down.

Early in January last year, I started noticing other places being affected. I was in makeup school at the time and I started to struggle with doing small detail work and repetitive things. I didn't see it as a big deal at the time, considering I was sculpting for eight hours, five days in a row.

About a year ago, I started college as a flute major. I've played flute for nine years by that point. School started September. I was told in early October that, medically, I had to stop playing flute.

It was...difficult, to say the least. Coming to terms with that kind of thing was a grieving process. It really was. And I can talk all day about what that's like and the thought process I had and how my last concert ever as a flutist really was, but I won't here. What this is all culminating to is: I *can't* write like I used to.My hands tire out and cramp up and they just don't work like they used to when I started the story. I have it lined out. I know how it ends. It's just...writing it. And when it comes down to it, at the end of the day, my own body is unreliable. I could type five words, I could type five thousand. I won't know until I start.

TL;DR version: I want to update it in the future, but it's all down to what my body will allow me to do.

#mint ice cream & bubblegum kisses #ren replies #or whatever my tag was

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misterellyott · 1 year ago

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This economy is so fucked right now, I just don't know how much more we can do.

Currently, I'm working my full time 40 hour a week job, and my side job I was only getting about 26 hours. As of this week and the foreseeable future, my side job is bumping up my hours.

While the extra money is going to be a blessing, I'm already absolutely exhausted just thinking about it. This week alone in my second job I'm working 32 hours and it looks like 32-40 is going to be my new normal with my side job.

My wife also got more hours at her normal job, bumping her from 24 to 28 and her side job will remain at 16.

The hard part is, the entirety of her normal jobs paycheck goes to us paying for food, household goods, and pet supplies.

And my paychecks go to everything else, bills, car payments, the rent, electric, etc.

And it seems like every time we get a bill to come down in price, by either lowering what we are getting (like canceling amazon, hulu) or by getting low income/Washington state help (like reducing our internet bill by half) something else always comes up.

Like our son getting his phone stolen at the fair, and now we have to increase our monthly phone bill to ensure that he has one. And it is something he absolutely has to have for us to get ahold of him when he is at home or out with his friends.

Winter is coming and bills are only going to be going up, electric goes way high for us in the winter trying to keep our house warm, as the trailers heat that we usually pay for propane to use often times doesn't work and we have to supplement with electric heaters which spike our electric bill considerably.

Luckily as of November we will have lived in our spot for a year and we will be able to apply for comfort level billing, but still that isn't all the helpful.

Our tiguan just got new tires, and needs a new part that is going to cost us upwards of 600 dollars, that we can't afford right now as we are still paying off the 600 that we still owe on the tires.

Our credit is in the trash due to us having to default on some of our credit cards in order to have a debt relief agency help us reduce and pay them off.

We have nothing saved at this moment for Christmas and we have only paid back about 500 dollars of the 1k we owe our son for the money we borrowed from his savings to pay a down payment on a much needed second car as it was getting too complicated trying to juggle four jobs between the two of us and only one car.

A part of me wishes that my father wasn't such an asshole and that we could find common ground so that we could at least have someone to fall back on, on this hard times. But, a bigger part of me has been relieved not to have to deal with his harping and bullshittary for the past three years.

As of this moment, I don't have much if anymore, free time to be able to find another job. I wish I had some sort of computer/online skill in which I could market and do during some of my 'free' hours at night when I'm working my hotel job where I'm largely alone and my duties only take a small portion of the eight hours I'm at the hotel.

I'm constantly looking online for all kinds of side hussles that really work, that really make any kind of money and I'm not really finding any and it sucks, cause we could really use some more income.

I could ask the gas station to give me more hours, but he has already moved me from only working there four days a week to five. Which leaves me only two days a week where I would have any free time to do something.

One of those days is our family or date night and the other is my only day off during the whole week that I like to use to reset and recharge to begin my long six day work week.

I'm barely making it through my weeks as is. I'm using Nicotine as a way to energize myself and get me through my long as fuck work days (some work days are 17 hours, some are 14, with only two days where I work only 8 hours) (My 8 hour days are Monday, but I typically work a 17 hour shift on sunday, get less than 6 hours of sleep and work my 8 hours on monday and then I work another 17 hour shift on Tuesday, then I get a full 16 hours before I'm due back to work for another 8 hours overnight, before my day off on Thursday.)

Coffee and energy drinks no longer help me. I drink them because I like the taste and want to avoid the headache from lack of caffeine when I'm already struggling with head and neck pain due to whatever is going on with me.

I smoke a joint or two before I sleep because I can't get myself to fall asleep otherwise.

My eating habits are shit. I eat what I can, sometimes just a handful of grapes, or some of the candy I have in my backpack that I keep on me to keep something in my mouth to avoid me picking at my nails. Why this is my new habit to stop that one, I have no idea. It just works.

I don't know. I guess I need to sit down and look at the bills and see what else we can cut, change, switch to, etc to reduce money. At this point though it just feels like beating a dead horse.

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anon-sect · 1 year ago

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THE FOOT SUB CHALLENGE, PART TWO

It had been several days since the first challenge. He failed to convert his friend to be his foot sub so that he could dom him for fun. But Chris was not giving up just yet. He knew how to challenge him next.

The following day when Eric came over to visit, Chris lay down the next challenge. "I bet you will be my foot sub after a day as my shoes. You would be something I could wear with just about any outfit, which would be more useful. Your mind would be so converted to worshipping my feet, you proably will bend down and automatically kiss them." He spoke, hoping Eric would take the bait one more time.

Eric saw him fail the first time. He knew no doubt he would fail again. One day as shoes would be cake walk, he thought. "Fine, I take that challenge. but I want to win something if you fail this time." He proposed.

"What would you want to win if I fail?" Chris asked.

"I want to see you kiss my feet in defeat." Erick spoke smiling back.

Chris was wanting to dom not submit defeat. But Eric would agree to the challenge if he won something if he failed. "Agreed." He shook hands on it. Eric's request made him rethink the conditions of the challenge, but he would not reveal it until Eric was just an object to put under his feet.

Chris used this special device and transformed Eric into a nice pair of shoes for everyday use. He tried them on and saw they were really comfortable. After he walked around him them for a little bit, he took one shoe off to inform Eric of the new conditions of the challenge. "Since you want to me to kiss your feet if I fail, I decied that a minium of five days as my shoes is the new conditions of the challenge. Since you are already in this form, you can't protest the new conditions, nor can you refuse it. You simply have no choice. I decide what I should do after a minimum of five days." He paused as he knew the next words might drive Eric insane. "While as my shoes, I won't speak to you. You will simply be a good pair of shoes to wear as I please." He put the shoe back on his foot. He thought the next five days were going to be fun for him, but not so much for his friend.

Eric experience was different from the last time. He was a pair of socks then. Now, he saw his face being used as an insole to support his friend's feet. When he heard his friend had changed the conditions of the challenge, he realized he had made a mistake in accepting it. He was literally stuck as shoes for at least the next five days or possibly more. He was completely dependent upon Chris to restore his humanity when he decided to.

Chris was on vacation from his job for the whole week. He had a special pair of shoes he used specically for working out. But when he was running errands, he made sure he wore Eric. Each night, he would stuff the very stinky socks he was wearing that day, down inside of his Eric transformed shoes. He wasnted him to smell stinky feet while he slept all night. For five days straight while he was on vacation, he wore Eric everywhere except when his was going to the gym or working out. The transformed shoes were so comfortable to wear. The insoles supported his feet, unlike any pairs of shoes he currently owned. At the end of the five days, he really wanted to continue wearing his transformed shoes. He was to return back to work in a couple of days. So he gave Eric the weekend free of being worn on feet until then.

The following week, Eric found himself going to work with Chris. During all the previous week, Chris never spoke back to not one minute. He just wore him. Having to smell stinky socks all night long didn't give him a break from his friends foot stench. He did his best to hold on to his mental sanity and resistance. He was determined that he would not be his foot sub. But a new week started to change his mind. As Chris went to work, he was trapped around his feet for nearly eight hours every day and then had to deal with a stinky sock every night. That was each day's routine, feet all day, and stinky socks at night. He started to mentally beg for his friend to set him free by this point. He literally was being treated as shoes and footwear. At the end of that week, he was still a pair of shoes. Then another week would start of the same routine of feet all day and stinking socks all night. It felt like a never ending cycle.

Chris got so comfortable with his transformed shoes, he didn't bother to transform them back to normal for some time. He just simply thought of them as his new pair. It wasn't until it was two month later that he fully remembered that he was wearing Eric just about every day. He took his shoes off his feet and used his device to reform the shoes back into his normal human form.

Eric was so relieved that he was human again. He knelt down and kissed Chris's socked feet. "Thank you for freeing me from that form. You win, I will be your foot sub." He admited. His mind had gone crazy being tortored by Chris feet almost every day for two months.

Chris was pleased that he won the challenge, but he had changed his mind about wanting Eric to be his foot sub. Foot wear was much more useful to him than a foot sub. Satisfied that he won the bet, he used his device again. He watched as Eric was then turned into a pair of Nike slides. He tried them on and saw that they were really comfortable on his socked feet. "I don't want a foot sub anymore. I want someone I can use as my footwear on a permanent basis. So you kissing my feet was a sign of surrender to me. You're mine now until I say otherwise." He spoke down to his slides as he went to watch television.

This was not the result Eric was hoping for by kissing his friend's feet. He didn't want to be permanent footwear. His vision was only the bottoms of Chris's socks as his face was supporting the weight of his friend's feet. He regrets taking up that last challenge. He was now just footwear to his friend and nothing more.

#foot domination #inanimate transformation #shrinkage #shoe transformation

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starglitterz · 2 years ago

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serendipity.

─── series masterlist !

serendipity

noun; the occurrence & development of events by chance in a happy way

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you're pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he's just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he's ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can't shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn't that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

pairing; scaramouche x fem!reader

genre; modern au, coffee shop au, half smau half writing, fluff, crack, angst, coworkers to lovers, ___ to lovers, mutual pining

status; ongoing

warnings; all characters are over the age of 21, swearing, spoilers for scaramouche's backstory, detailed warnings will be specified each chapter, does not include anything that may happen from 3.1 update onwards

updates; erratic, hopefully at least once a week

taglist (open); send an ask to be added !

additional info; serendipity is a spinoff of my streamer!xiao series cynosure, and it contains heavy cynosure spoilers but can be read as a stand-alone. all parts & any asks relating to serendipity will be tagged under [☕] ━━━ serendipity ! . chapter titles are subject to change.

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

# chapters:

character profiles !

one ! - a fresh start (and a terrible first impression)

two ! - i feel like i know you (i sure hope not)

three ! - i'm just doing my job! (does it really include being this bossy?)

four ! - thanks for the save (it's no big deal)

five ! - time for the summer festival! (do we really have to do this?)

six ! - your friends are here ! (oh no)

seven ! - my bff thinks she's sherlock holmes (...what?)

eight ! - no secrets allowed (if you say so)

nine ! - you were definitely jealous (you're delusional)

ten ! - a normal day at komore (until it wasn't)

eleven ! - feels weird when you're not here (feels weird when you're not here)

twelve ! - my skills include making bad decisions (add that to your resume)

thirteen ! - tea spilling session (that is the worst possible name)

fourteen ! - i know that you've got mommy issues (please shut up)

fifteen ! - anything for komore! (this is a bit much)

sixteen ! - i do know you (i hope it's true)

seventeen ! - the tale of a wanderer (and his trusty sidekick)

eighteen ! - cleaning after hours (do we get paid for overtime?)

nineteen ! - i'm so dumb (i'm so dumb)

twenty ! - i love fireworks! (i think your eyes sparkle more)

# extras:

playlist !

#[☕] ━━━ serendipity !#scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche #scaramouche angst #genshin scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche smau #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #✏️ — quill writes !#genshin angst #genshin impact

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poisonmaximoff · 3 years ago

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BELATED FATE (Elizabeth Olsen x FemReader).

The whole story: here.

Chapter 1. Something new

Y/n's POV:

I can't believe I'm actually here. Surrounded by such incredibly talented people who inspire me and many others. Angelina Jolie, Orlando Bloom, Jessica Alba, Chris Evans, Sarah Paulson...they are all here, sitting at their tables and enjoying the ceremony. I already made a small talk with some of them, and now I'm patiently waiting for the announcement of the "Actress of the Year".

«And the Oscar goes to...»

Everyone held their breath in the exciting expectation of the cherished name.

«...Y/n Y/ln!»

The audience burst into applause, I get up to give my thank-you speech and...

«Y/N! How much longer will it take me to finally wake you up?» My mom said entering my room without knocking. Here we go again. Welcome to the real world where I'm not even an actress and the closest I've come to being one was pretending to be sick so I could skip the school. And I still do that to skip work, because it's an incredibly boring pastime.

My parents are a rare example of people who manage to combine family life with a career and achieve success in both areas. Although they couldn't spend a lot of time with me and my little brother every day, they still constantly tried to give us everything we needed. Therefore, in my position it's a sin to complain about something.

They gave me this job so that I could develop and build a career in business and investment. They didn't care at all that I always had problems with all this numbers and communicating with people, but I wanted an independent life, so I agreed to work in their company. All I have to do is sort through papers and fill out different tables, sometimes go to business meetings with my parents and Mr. & Mrs. Olsen. They founded LinCorp along with my parents, so our families are closely connected.

Everyone thinks that my life is perfect, not even suspecting that I have no idea what I'm doing with it and what I plan to do in the future. I mean, doing almost nothing and getting paid for it surely sounds amazing, but my days merge into one long groundhog day and time flies so imperceptibly that I'm afraid to wake up one day being old and realize that I don't remember anything significant from my life. I just feel like an inferior person who can't find their place in this life and it scares me.

"You've got to be kidding me, Y/n. Get up right now, otherwise we'll be late for the meeting, you know how important this is." My mother said as she walked over to my bed and pulled off my blanket.

"Mom! You didn't even give me five minutes to fully wake up!" I grunted and slowly got out of bed pulling my bathrobe over my pajamas.

"You've been sleeping for ten hours, honey. And wipe the pout off your face, you're not a kid anymore. C'mon, get changed into proper clothes and come downstairs, breakfast is already on the table."

My stomach rumbled at the thought of my favorite pancakes with strawberry jam and freshly squeezed peach juice. Mom's food is one of the few things I've really missed since I started living apart from my parents at the age of 20. I remember how happy I was with my newfound independence that in the first week I decided to eat exclusively takeaway food, washing it down with cola or beer. No wonder that soon I ended up in the hospital with gastritis and my mother lecturing me. That's why she didn't want me to live separately and since that day constantly checked up on me, not allowing me to be more substantive.

My parents rarely left me and my younger brother unsupervised at all, and even when I turned 21, they didn't stop seeing me as a helpless child. But as soon as it comes to work, they immediately consider me a responsible serious adult. I have no idea how they don't notice my laziness at work. Maybe they're just pretending not to see it though.

I came to visit them for a few days, so now every damn morning I have to deal with getting up at eight o'clock. Disgusting. Eventually I finished my morning routine and picked up my new dress, which I bought especially for today. Although I'm not a fan of this kind of dresses, because they are too formal for me, but this one outlined my figure very well, so I was satisfied with my current look. I put on some makeup, put my hair in a neat bun and joined my parents who were already waiting for me in the car.

"Can you please remind me what's the topic of the meeting and who will be there?" I ask, meeting my father's slightly disappointed gaze. "I'm sorry, it's just that my head is full of a lot of things right now" I add.

"It's an unscheduled board of directors. There are some difficulties in the company, so it was decided to gather all the shareholders and discuss our further plans. In addition to Mr. and Mrs. Olsen, their eldest daughter Elizabeth and her brother Trent will be there. The Holbrook family will also be present." My dad explains to me in calm tone.

I remember the first time I saw all of them. It was almost two and a half years ago at some charity event. I was about to join LinCorp, so visiting it was an essential condition. My parents had to introduce me to all the partners and their families.

I had never been to this kind of events before, so I didn't know what to expect from it. Therefore, I prepared very carefully for this day, because I didn't want to embarrass my parents and myself. I had to learn all the rules of etiquette and run around the shops for two days in search of a suitable dress. To be honest, it exhausted me more than the evening itself.

Entering the huge bright hall, where most of the guests had already gathered, I felt the smell of delicious food and drinks mixed with expensive perfumes. I tried to put my slight anxiety aside, and headed with my parents to a small group of people. The first thing I noticed were three girls, whose faces were almost identical. One of them was taller than the other two, who I assumed were twins, and was talking to some blond guy. To be honest, her beauty and the way she held herself with people definitely instantly impressed me.

Probably sensing my gaze on her, she looked at me curiously with her emerald eyes and smirked lightly. My heart skipped a couple of beats, but I still decided to go up to them and introduce myself.

During our conversation, I learned that this woman's name is Elizabeth and she is in charge of public relations in our company. She generously agreed to introduce me to the rest of the guests, as she knew absolutely everyone here.

I noticed that when I was talking to someone, she often cast curious glances towards me, which couldn't leave me indifferent. I wanted to get to know her better. Just as we were left alone and I was about to start a casual conversation with her, someone's hand fell on my waist.

"You must be Y/n, right?" Tall blonde girl with not very long hair and bright blue eyes asked me. "Yes, nice to meet you..." I left the end of the sentence hanging in the air for her to tell me her name. "Taylor. Nice to meet you too, shall we dance? It's my favorite song!" I noticed that she was a bit tipsy, but couldn't say no, since I'm just not used to turn people down. As I turn my head towards Elizabeth to apologize, I notice that she shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other and then says: "Okay, have fun girls. I'll be with my family, if you need me", then cracks a small smile and walks away.

From that day on, I no longer had the opportunity to start any small conversation with her. Usually, every time we met, we just greeted each other and exchanged couple of neutral or business related phrases. I already was in relationship with Taylor (yes, that girl from the charity event) and was more than happy to have her in my life, so my fleeting interest in Elizabeth has long been forgotten. The only people I met at that day, who I kept in touch with, were Mary-Kate and Ashley.

"What about the twins? I actually like them more than the others" I ask, remembering all our little adventures together, which our parents don't even know about, and hopefully never will.

"They decided to take their share from the company and start designing clothes, so they will no longer be at meetings." Hearing that gave me mixed emotions, because it meant that now I'd see them less often, but I was glad that they had found their vocation in this life. I nodded and we spent the rest of the way in silence.

I have this overwhelming need to dive into my thoughts and analyze my past every time I experience even the slightest discomfort. And now it's exactly what's going to happen, because I get a bit nervous before such kind of meetings.

Every time I start to think about mistakes I made my mind drifts to one specific person that used to be an important part of my life. My ex who I broke up with three months ago. Not that she did something terrible, I just couldn't stay in secret relationship with her anymore and keep pretending that it doesn't hurt me. I knew that she truly loved me and she was my first love as well. These two years I spent with her were both the best and worst time of my life, constant emotional rollercoasters exhausted me, but I couldn't let her go, because sincerely believed that she's my fate. Maybe I'm just not mature enough for any kind of relationship and it had nothing to do with my partner's behavior. I was too selfish, clingy, hungry for attention and...

"Earth to Y/n, we're here already, come on." Dad's voice interrupted my guilt trip and I couldn't be more thankful.

Ten minutes later we were already ascending in a large glass elevator to the 30th floor. My parents are talking about boring business related stuff , and I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do after that meeting. The elevator stopped at the 12th floor and I saw a blonde woman wearing an expensive black suit and Jimmy Choo heels approaching the door. As soon as it opened, the woman smiled broadly at my parents and entered the elevator.

"Hi, Mr. Y/ln and Mrs. Y/ln, I'm so glad to see you again, it's been a while. You both look gorgeous." She said in a slightly raspy voice. Of course, I immediately recognized Elizabeth, even though she did bangs and changed her style of clothing a bit since the last time I saw her. The new image actually suits her very well, now she looks even more powerful.

"Good morning, Elizabeth. Darling, you look absolutely amazing! Your mother told me you visited France recently, did you like it there? And what is that gorgeous ring on your finger, did Boyd finally decide to propose?" my mom asked with a genuine curiosity. Oh. I didn't even notice that ring. Well, no wonder the woman like her isn't single.

"France is incredibly beautiful and charming, I definitely want to return there one day. I think I fell in love with their desserts. And yeah, we decided to get married." She says the last part quickly and a bit dryly that doesn't go unnoticed by me and turns her head in my direction, staring at me with her big green eyes. "Hi, Y/n." Elizabeth smiles at me and I greet her back a little shyly, surprised at my sudden modesty.

When we arrived at our floor, my father's assistant met us and took us to the conference room, where everyone had already gathered. I took a seat to the left of my mom and next to Elizabeth, out of the corner of my eye seeing a tall blonde man greet her and kiss her on the cheek. Yes, it's Boyd. "Such a weird name, but whatever" I thought to myself, and then I heard my father's voice announcing the beginning of the meeting.

It's been almost an hour. I got lost in my thoughts five minutes after the start, occasionally glancing at the people in the room and fixing my gaze on the woman to my right as she talked about possible solutions to problems. When she stopped talking, I went back to whatever was going on inside my head, but soon my attention was drawn to the raised voices of my parents.

"We can't cut or withhold workers wages because we screwed up on the last project! People have always been more important to Lincorp than money and we cannot let down our loyal employees. It's not even up for discussion." My father said, gradually losing his temper. I don't understand much about business, but I know that now he's right and I'm always ready to support him.

"It's our only option, Derek. If we don't cut our costs, it could lead the company to collapse." Said tall, dark-haired man of strong build, who I assume is Mr. Holdbrook, Boyd's father. His family also supported his position, leaving the final decision for Olsens to make.

I took a quick glance at Elizabeth and noticed her strange expression. Obviously she was a little upset and taken aback by her fiance's position, so I could only hope that her family would support ours. Suddenly her eyes meet mine and I see a mixture of doubt and confusion in them. She gives me a small nervous smile and returns her attention to the discussion.

I didn't expect that all of this would actually make me worry, but here's how it turned out. Suddenly I start to feel overwhelmed, my breathing starts to hitch, and my hands shake a little because of surging emotions and a strong sense of responsibility.

I quickly excuse myself and go to the hallway to calm down a little. Thoughts that I'm doing something I barely understand just to avoid disappointing my parents quickly fill my head. It only makes me more nervous and I mindlessly start walking along the corridor, barely paying attention to everything around me, thinking about a difficult decision that our company will have to make, until someone's hand touches my shoulder. I immediately stop moving and turn around to see whoever was following me.

"Harsh realities of the business world, huh?" Elizabeth's voice fills my ears. I look up at her and she gives me a little sympathetic smile.

"I just feel out of place almost every time I come here. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to this company and our parents for a good job and great career opportunities, but I just...sometimes I feel useless for Lincorp." I mutter under my breath, not fully realizing that I'm pouring my soul out to an almost unknown person, whom I've seen several times in my life.

"Hey, hey, Y/n, look at me please. I totally understand how you feel, sometimes I have a similar feeling that I'm not doing enough for the company, you know. And it's not actually my thing at all." She says sincerely trying to calm me down.

To be honest, I didn't expect to have that kind of conversation with her because, you know...she is kind of perfect daughter and an employee. She always seems to know what exactly she's doing. Confident posture and speech, the ability to find a common language with people, excellent ideas...all of this creates the image of a born business lady for her.

But seeing her today's look during the meeting makes me realize that she is probably not at all what she seems. And I definitely have to get to know her better.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen fanfiction #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #elizabeth olsen fanfic #wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #lizzie olsen

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itsmykindoflove · 3 years ago

Text

I won't be able to let you go.

Genre: mature, a little angst

Words: +1.1k

Disclaimer: mentions of sex

Note: if you're under 18, do not read it.

When they say dating a famous artist is not easy, believe it. There are a lot of things behind the glamor that a lot of people don't think will happen to them if they date a singer or actor. I thought the same when I was asked to date by an idol.

Rumors of betrayal, gossip magazines, jealousy, fans who cross the line and invade their privacy, homesickness, having to keep dating a secret or lack of time. Of all these, the lack of time and the incompatibility of schedules that resulted in homesickness were the reasons that shook our relationship.

My boyfriend had just arrived from a mini trip to a neighboring country and I had to go back to my home country in week after. It had been a year and a half since I had seen my parents and friends, so I needed to go back. So, doing the math, we would have five days to be together and enjoy each other's presence.

Knowing that I would be away for two months, he and his friends organized a farewell party in their dorm. Nothing too big, just drinks and snacks while we listened to music and made small talk. It was impossible not to have fun with those boys, they seemed to have a screw loose, or rather, they only shared the same neuron.

-Do you want to sleep here today? –he asked sitting next to me on the floor. His hand was never away from me for too long.

-I can't, I have a meeting at eight o'clock tomorrow via Zoom. I have to go home.

-Okay, I'll take you home, just say when you want to go.

Looking at the clock, I saw that it was almost one in the morning, so I told him that in half an hour we could go. He agreed, and went to his room, asking me to wait a while.

-Argh, I really didn't want to leave. –I said sullenly.

-Why? -One of his friends asked.

-Living here made me so well, my health has improved a lot. Having to go back to my country makes me have to face problems that I wouldn't want to remember.

-You should stay then. – another said.

-If it were that easy, I have my family to meet, work things to sort out... The company don't know if I'm going to come back here or if they're going to send me to another country.

-Serious? And what about your relationship?

-I don't know, I haven't told him yet. But I'll talk later this week and...

-What are we going to talk about? –Holding a bag in his hand, he entered the room.

-Nothing important. –I omitted, standing up on impulse. –I think we can go now.

I said goodbye to the other boys, promising them a farewell dinner at my apartment, nothing but food from my country. Needless to say, they were all incredibly excited.

-Is it okay if I sleep with you today? –he asked as he drove to my house.

-Ah, now I understand the bag. Your clothes are here. -he laughed. -Of course you can, you don't even have to ask.

Arriving at the apartment, I asked him if he wanted something to eat and he said he just wanted to lie down with me and talk. And that's what we did, until I felt the need to bring up that subject.

-You know, I need to tell you that I don't know what will happen after these two months.

-How come?

-The company doesn't know if they keep me here or if they send me somewhere else.

-Hum... Are they going to give you the answer after that time? –he asked and I agreed.

He took a deep breath. And as if trying to think of a solution, we were silent for a while.

-Let's not think about it now, uh? Let's think about it when the time is right. Breaking up is not an option for me. I've already told you that you're going to have to deal with and take care of me for the rest of your life, you're going to see me lose my chocolate abs, my hair fall out from bleaching and my fans leave me for some younger idol. –I slapped his arm lightly, scolding him.

-Ok then, let's talk about it later. –I placed a light peck on his lips.

-Look, I was holding back, but now that you kissed me I'm going to take it with consent. -he turned me, getting on top of me and kissed me passionately. His hand was lifting the hem of my shirt when I remembered the meeting the day after.

-Babe, I have a meeting tomorrow morning. I need to be rested. -Hearing that, he complained softly and got off me.

-I already have a solution, resign and come be my staff. This way I can see you all the time and we can run away when no one is looking, if you know what I mean. – he joked. It didn't take long, and we ended up sleeping hugging each other.

The next morning my cell phone rang at 7 am. I dressed as best I could, and ran to the meeting, I kept my pajamas underneath, no one would see me anyway. We tried to resolve all issues and reports as quickly as possible, so everyone could go back to bed or party, in some cases.

The smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen was delicious. When leaving the bedroom-office, I had the beautiful vision of my boyfriend's naked back, I couldn't resist giving him a hug from behind.

-The smell is excellent.

-As always, you know I cook well.

-When nothing burns, yes, you do. –I joked and he pouted.

We ate in silence, that cozy silence that was only possible with him.

-Shall we go back to bed? Thank God it's Saturday.

-Yep, but I’m not being able to sleep much. I have a meeting at eleven.

I pulled him by the hand towards the bedroom and threw him on the bed, sitting on top of him.

-We won’t sleep, silly. -I said and saw my favorite smile form on his face. I placed kisses and small bites on his neck, knowing that was what made him weak. His hands firmly gripped my hips as I moved them back and forth slowly, just the way he liked.

-Oh, you're really going to resign. -his voice was starting to shake and get deep. -I won't be able to let you go.

Laughing in his ear, for a second I entertained the his idea, but I couldn't help but think of all the years of study and hard work to get my position at that company. It would be hard to let go of everything, but it was even harder to stay away from him. Away from his sly ways in the morning, away from his kiss, away from the broken humor he had, away from the funny way he tried to seduce me, away from his hands and hips that worked just as well on stage as they did on me. In that moment, both of us being in sync, body and soul. I prayed I wouldn't have to be away from him, ever.

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corditeheart · 1 year ago

Text

He's gone long enough that she does get a couple hours of rest in, enough that she's less annoyed than she might be when one of the day nurses returns with a member of the occupational therapy team.

"Let's try standing up," the therapist says, so cheerfully that she wants to punch him for it, but standing is something she wants.

So, she goes along with it, shuffling five steps from the bed into the chair Squall'd been sleeping in-- sitting down is a scary relief, for how out of breath the short walk makes her.

Turns out, a bullet nicking your lung will do that.

"Into the bathroom?" the therapist suggests. "We'd like to make sure you can get there and back-- assisted, of course, for the time being."

Anything to get out of that damn bed more than once a day, so Xu obliges, heavily reliant on the nurse to get out of the chair.

(The less said about that particular assisted experience, the better, but she has to admit that it's a relief to do away with the damn catheter.)

"Can I sit up for a while?" she asks, when she's slowly working her way out of the bathroom, trying very hard to refrain from the urge to swear with Laguna's eyes on her as she moves. "Or is that going to do more harm than good?"

"No, that's fine. Just make sure you call for someone instead of getting up on your own."

They get her back in the chair, tucking a pillow beneath her arm and a fresh thin blanket across her lap, her fully-charged phone and more water set within easy reach. Add in a nice, incredibly welcome round of glittering morphine into the mix, and Xu sighs, relaxing as she glances over at the president.

"I never seem to remember," she says, "how much we rely on paramagic. If I was at Garden, I'd be given forty-eight hours of leave and been expected to be back at work immediately."

Needless to say, she kind of prefers that to this. And to think, there's still nearly two full weeks left of her involuntary stay here.

Eventually, Ellone returns, bearing bags of product, a light cotton robe that's a dark enough (and tastefully-floral patterned) color that it'll hide any crimes. She is elated to see Xu out of bed, even if it's barely two feet away from the bed in question, and sets down one of the bags on a table before she moves further into the room.

(Judging by the scrawl on the side of that bag, it's lunch. Or dinner. Or a meal, at any rate, and it smells fantastic from here.)

It's nice to have someone be that excited about the little things, Xu thinks, and takes the (unfortunately small) coffee that Squall's sister offers her.

It is the best thing she's had in days, hot, fresh, and bearing the logo of a coffee shop not inside the hospital. Xu relishes every sip, trying to savor it for as long as she can.

"Okay, I've got makeup in this one, a zip-up sweatshirt in here, some bath stuff in here, but I talked to the nurses outside and they said you can't get your incisions wet at all, so we might be out of luck there. However, I did get this really good-smelling dry shampoo that I was promised would work miracles, and face wash. They didn't have your moisturizer, but I got you the same one I use."

The rest of the bags are emptied onto Xu's bed, spreading out the bounty as Ellone goes through it all. She's put a fair dent in that blue card-- good thing it's all going back to Garden, on Xu's expense account.

"I brought you better slipper socks, too," Ellone adds, rooting through the bag to pull out the socks in question. "Those hospital ones are ugly. And itchy."

"What's in there?" Xu asks, nodding toward a bag that's yet to be opened.

"A couple of trashy novels, some magazines, and snacks that you're probably definitely not supposed to have, but it'll be our secret, okay?"

"Deal," she replies, and can't help but smile in response to Ellone's own. "Did you hear from--?"

"Squall's about ten minutes out. He had to drop stuff off at the Palace; they're moving him in there for security reasons."

"Ah."

She would have done the same thing.

"And that?" Nodding instead to the fragrant bag Ellone had left near the door.

"Most of the menu from Yama's. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got an assortment, but there's also some miso soup if you'd prefer it instead."

"Anything but soup."

It's how she ends up with a very appealing box of teriyaki chicken and rice by the time Squall arrives, eating small bites and trying not to drop it everywhere.

"Hi," she says, and smiles at him too, because why not? The day has improved, slightly, at least. "I walked to the bathroom and back. It was very impressive."

It's a very reasonable list to Ellone. Enough to make this whole situation a little less terrible. A little more bearable. And she would certainly be getting coffee on top of it all.

"Oh? Oh, of course. Squall, hand me her bag?"

He did as was instructed, and Ellone dug through Xu's small purse for the coiled charger. It's easy to find, and she plugs the AC adapter into the wall before attaching the dead cell phone. Immediately, a red flashing battery symbol appeared as it began to charge. In a few minutes, it might even be useable.

"I'll be back in an hour or so, okay?" Blue card. Got it. She tucked it into her pocket. She pulled the privacy curtain as requested, giving Xu a moment to drop the mask. "Don't work too hard while I'm gone.

"Any of you." The last bit was directed to the whole of the room. A giant, blanket scolding to the three biggest workaholics she knew. Satisfied, Ellone left the hospital room, a suited security officer following closely behind.

Behind the curtain, Squall watched Xu deflate. She had every right to be exhausted. She was so helpless in that hospital bed, and he knew it must drive her crazy to be at the mercy of others.

He tried to say something, but she cut him off. Alone. Yeah... yeah, he could do that.

"Sure." Squall bent down and gave her a quick kiss. "Just text me." He stepped around the curtain, and glanced to Laguna, who finally had his water and sipped happily from the paper cup.

"I'm going out. Get some rest, old man."

Laguna nodded. "You, too. Go shave, scruffy."

"Whatever."

There is so much to be done in the hours that he's gone from the hospital. The hotel room needed packing up. Finding something presentable to wear since he didn't have a Garden uniform on hand. Not that the uniform would bode well in this situation; he was supposed to be there purely on a personal level. Per recommendation from Kiros, his temporary base of operations was now to be the presidential palace. Better facilities, he was told. Besides, it was quiet. Squall could certainly use some quiet.

Drafting public statements was not something he ever had to do alone, but he had no choice. The press conference was set for later that evening to allow everyone time to prepare, so at least it wasn't improv. He hated improv more than anything.

Dinnertime saw him back at the hospital, though. And, bless her heart, Ellone had brought take-out. She shoved a paper box of chicken and broccoli and a plastic spork.

"Eat. I know you haven't."

#mercdeleon

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douz12a · 3 years ago

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Twisted | One

Summary: In which Wonho goes missing after a failed job, and MX tries to rescue him while dealing with other twisted matters that put you in danger.

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader (you).

Genre: Mafia AU (OT7) / action / romance / slight enemies to lovers

Warnings: Curse words, mentions of blood, injury, kidnapping, murder...

Words count: 1.4K

Story inspired by this TikTok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRxC5XmM/

A/N: This story took a turn I wasn't aiming for (literally just wanted to recreate that tiktok made by jongholicx but my fingers have a mind of their own apparently!! plus, I was obsessed with Shownu while writing this, so why Changkyun turned out to be the main lead is literally beyond me lol whoever reads this... hope you enjoy it TT

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When Hoseok was in college, he never skipped a day of classes. He never went to any party, and he certainly never went on a day trip or a weekend getaway. He was always around, taking care of you, working to earn money for you, spending time with you.

When Hoseok joined the army, the only places he knew of were home, your university, and his base. He always came back home for holidays and his days off. He would come pick you up after class and you’d go to your favorite diner, spend hours there just talking about anything and everything.

When Hoseok left the army and started his new... job, he became busier, but he always made sure to see you once a week. A couple of hours every Friday night right before you closed your clinic. He never skipped a Friday once, and it’s been years.

Today, however, was Friday. It was almost midnight which was way after your working hours, and there was still no sign of Hoseok around. You didn't think much of it at first, thinking maybe he got held up doing something with his team... His missions were mostly random, so one might have happened to be on a Friday night. At least that’s what you thought until you tried calling him, and some really unpleasant voice answered instead of him.

You felt like your whole body was drained out of blood. Before you knew it, you were on your way to see him, or his team. Just anyone.

They better have a good explanation for this.

It better be a prank or a training session, because if not then...

No. It can't be anything else.

Hoseok trusted you enough to tell you about anything. You were the first one to hear he was joining a gang called MX. You know everyone he works with (albeit not personally, but you’ve heard enough about everyone) and everything he does, except mission details. If anything, you'd say you knew way too much about his life. So, if there was anything scheduled today, he would have definitely told you, right? You kept racking your brain as you stepped on the gas. You didn’t care for speeding tickets at this point, you just needed to see Hoseok as soon as physically possible.

Parking your car a couple of blocks away from your destination, you draped a scarf over your head before making your way through alleyways. It only took a couple of minutes before you could spot that dreaded red door. There was a guard by it, as always, and some people gathered, visibly drunk and screaming trouble. You took a deep breath and continued that way.

Ever since Hoseok started working here, you've only been twice, and both times were during random afternoons. You've only heard stories from Hoseok about how it was at night. You never imagined actually seeing it for yourself but here you were.

The guard checked your ID before hesitantly letting you in, probably wondering what someone in such an outfit was doing in that side of the city. The sound of people shouting and cheering hit you the moment he opened the door. A few steps in and you could already see the ring in the center of the room. There were so many people surrounding it you couldn't see who was inside fighting. The only thing you could see is the blood splashing now and then. The fact that people cheered louder when the blood was visible made you sick to the core, but you didn’t let that get to you. You needed to make sure Hoseok was okay.

Making an abrupt stop and looking around, making sure no one was watching you, you turned a dark corner and hurried to the back side where you knew the real purpose of this place was. Hoseok and his team used it as a hideout, which fit just fine. During the day, athletes and fighters used the main area as a gym and came to train, getting Hoseok’s help whenever he wasn’t training with his guys himself. During weekend nights, there would be boxing matches which they somehow managed to make legal. No one suspected that behind all that, an actual mafia gang worked in the offices in the back. But then again, they kept it super private to keep the attention away from them. The boss never hired many men or made a ‘family’ like other gangs, it was just six members doing all the work, turning seven a few months back after welcoming a new weapon expert. In all the years they’ve been together, the police were never on their tail.

A few turns later, a single door separated you from finding out the truth. You put your shaking hand on the doorknob and twisted it, making your way inside. Before you had the chance to look up though, a cold metal was on your temple. You forgot to breathe for a second, your mind going blank.

“So now y’all using pretty faces to try to get to us? Not too original, for real,” a deep voice reached your ears as you took a shaking breathe, trying to calm down.

Unfamiliar voice and a gun? This must be the new guy I.M.

“Get that thing the fuck away from me.” You muttered between your teeth, spotting Shownu at the far end of the room reading intensely from a file. Great, the boss was around.

Out of all members, Son Hyunwoo (who went by Shownu) was probably the one who impressed you the most. It wasn’t because he was the boss, but because there was seemingly nothing he couldn’t do. When you heard stories about him from Hoseok, he sounded like the slowest dumbest person in the world. You were fooled at first, but then you learned the man had degrees in business and law, he ran the gym and managed UFC fighters, he could pass for a UFC fighter himself with a body like his, and on top of everything he made sure to take care of his team in the best way possible. He was like a father figure to everyone despite his young age. Even you felt his fatherly side when he occasionally sent an accountant and a business consultant to your clinic to make sure your business is running smoothly.

“Oh! She got balls,” the man holding you at gun point chuckled, finally bringing some attention to you. “What brings you here, princess?” He asked, his voice rid of all humor he had a moment ago.

“Changkyun, put it down.” Shownu stared at you, confusion visible even from where you were standing. The guy next to you, Changkyun, lowered his gun a second later. You didn’t waste time to run further inside, your eyes searching the place.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Shownu’s voice softened as he came closer to you. You faced him, trying to see if he was pretending like nothing was wrong, or if he genuinely didn’t know.

“Where’s Hoseok?” You asked, your heartbeat speeding up as you waited for an answer.

“Who the fuck is this? How does she know Wonho’s real name?” The same deep voice, Changkyun’s, asked from behind you, sounding defensive this time.

“Changkyun, this is Wonho’s sister, she’s-“

“WHERE THE FUCK IS HOSEOK!” You screamed, fists clenched, making Changkyun curse. Shownu just stared at you, not startled at all. You remembered Hoseok telling you how he never got scared. What a perfect time to confirm that. In the corner of your eye, you could see someone else appearing from behind another door, probably alerted by your scream.

“…It’s Friday night, shouldn’t you be with him?” Shownu finally answered.

Your knees finally gave in, not able to hold you up anymore. You were praying this was all a dream. You were praying what Shownu said was actually just in your head, that this was all fake.

Because if it was real then…

“Hoseok...” You sighed, not having enough energy to form a full sentence.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” you recognized Jooheon’s voice by your side, his left arm made its way around your shoulder, holding you close to him. Out of all of Hoseok’s teammates, only Jooheon knew you enough to be that close to you. A single tear traveled down your cold cheek.

“Hoseok… they took him.”

#monsta x im #monsta x series #monsta x #monsta x im changkyun #im changkyun #jooheon #shownu #kihyun #minhyuk #monsta x minhyuk #hyungwon #wonho #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop series #im changkyun x reader

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eryiss · 4 years ago

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Summary: Forced to be sociable by his so called friends, Laxus finds himself attending a five week cooking class. An insulting and stupid idea, and one he resents them for doing. He would have thrown it in their faces, if it weren’t for the smug prick teaching the class, with his handsome face, delectable body, and annoyingly enticing way of keeping Laxus on his toes. [Fraxus One Shot]

Notes: Hi. I wrote this on my phone while sitting on the beach, so who knows how it’ll turn out. But it’s got them both being cocky, both being flirty, and both being in love, so what else could you want. Hope you all enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Set To Boil

Or: 4 Times Freed taught Laxus a recipe, & 1 time Laxus returned the favour

Week One - Pizza

"Laxus, you need to get out more."

"Laxus, there's no reason for you not to give it a try."

"Laxus, you're an antisocial brat and you need to get out more."

Fuck them all. Fuck Evergreen for her haughty sense of self belief. Fuck Bickslow for having no tact and being and coming up with good points. Fuck Makarov in particular, for being a rude old coot who threatened to change the damn lock. And when Laxus found out which of the interfering bastards had been the one to come up with this stupid idea, then fuck them too.

It was ridiculous. Yes, perhaps Laxus had become somewhat insular as of late. Maybe his friends had been putting in more effort than him as of late, but it was important. He was newly hired in his sports journalism career, and he needed to focus on his writing.

What he did not need was a five week cooking course!

Why the hell did cooking courses even exist anymore? If you wanted to learn to cook, there was this brilliant new invention called a computer. They had hundreds of step by step recipes, none of which required Laxus to trudge through a damn rec-centre at eight at night!

Seriously, fuck them all.

He was late, too. The bus had missed his stop, and as such he was now ten damn minutes late. He was half-tempted to leave the rec-centre before he found his classroom - Ever, Bicks and Makarov wouldn't find out if he didn't use the damn voucher, after all - but then he would have to spend the next five weeks thinking of ways to pass the time every Thursday night. He really needed to move out of Makarov's damn apartment; the old bastard apparently had nothing better to do than to keep tabs on him. Bastard.

He was in front of the classroom door before he knew it, and he faulted. Dammit, why had he agreed to do this? Why couldn't the bus have gotten him there on time? Why was he nervous about this?

No; he was a grown man dammit. Fuck his nerves,

With false confidence, he walked into the classroom. Eight benches, all with sinks, ovens, cooktops, an array of cutlery and equipment, and a basket of ingredients filled the space. Five people stood behind some of the benches, and Laxus somewhat guilty slinked towards the nearest bench, at the back of the classroom.

"Mr Dreyar, I presume," A voice, deliciously smooth with underlying authority, made Laxus pause.

He looked up to see a man standing at the front of the room, behind a larger and more professional looking cooking worktop, and Laxus paused. If you were to encapsulate all of Laxus' ideal qualities in a man, his new teacher was apparently as close a person could come. Tall, obviously with some muscle, tight and sharp facial features, a little pale, and with long hair. He wore a button up shirt that hugged his form, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off a near-indecent amount of his forearms. He was quirking his eyebrow towards Laxus, and he felt ensnared by the expression.

Dammit, of course. Almost every other cooking class in the country would inevitable be taught by a homely housewife or a tedious Ramsay wannabe, but not his. He gets a stud with veiny forearms, high cheekbones, and narrowed eyes that made Laxus shiver.

He couldn't justify it, but Laxus was inclined to blame his grandfather for that.

"There's a bench up here, if you'd like to take it," The teacher said, motioning towards one of the cooking stations at the front of the room. Laxus cringed; even in school, he'd been one of the kids who sat at the back. That wasn't a habit he was ready to lose.

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you," Laxus mumbled, annoyed at himself for not speaking clearly. There was something about teachers that just… what did you call someone who intimidated you but also kind of excited you at the same time?

God, this was going to be awful.

"And I prefer it if my students arrived to my lessons on time," The teacher smirked a little, and Laxus almost stuttered in search of a reply. "And, as tends to happen with a student who shows up late on the first day, you'll likely act out further. As such, I want you close by so I can keep you on the straight and narrow," He tapped his finger on the surface twice. "This counter, please."

Though only a few steps, the walk to the counter at the front of the room was humiliating, it served to make the asshole teacher appear less hot, if nothing else. Because Laxus definitely did not like a man who knew how to be firm with him.

This was going to be hell, wasn't it?

At his assigned counter, Laxus felt a little lost. Nestled in the ingredients was a recipie - they were making pizza, apparently - and Laxus slightly found himself floundering. The cooking lessons weren't just to make him more sociable; he had no idea how to cook.

The teacher, who was looking at him from behind his work surface, sighed and approached Laxus. In his hand, he held a chopping board with what appeared to be a large mound of dough. He placed it before Laxus, who drowned down at it.

"Normally I would have taught you how to make dough yourself, but my plan's require the full hour," The teacher said, as if that was an explanation. "Rather than you lagging behind and not getting the whole experience, you should start from the same point everyone else is at. So put yourself to work and start to kneed this. It'll require a few more minutes to get to the right consistency."

Laxus looked down at the dough, grinding his teeth. Kneeding was rubbing it, right? And occasionally you punch it? That didn't sound right.

"Like this," The teacher said, pulling the chopping board towards him. He started to kneed the dough - it wasn't what Laxus thought it was - and the attraction came back with a sudden force. God dammit, why did his sleeves have to hug his biceps like that? That just wasn't fair.

The dough was pushed towards him again, and Laxus rolled up his sleeves and started to emulate what the teacher had done. The teacher didn't leave, and Laxus squirmed a little under, and found himself speaking to fill the silence.

"I ain't gonna learn, y'know," His mouth said before his brain could intercept. "Don't give a shit about cooking."

That a'boy Laxus. Turn up late, fail at a basic thing, and insult the guy's career. Real classy.

"You will." The teacher said, as if it were undeniable.

"I will?" Laxus scoffed.

"You will," The teacher repeated, smirking, "Once you realise what a good home cooked meal taste like, you'll be desperate to learn what else you can do."

"You seem awfully confident about that…" He drifted off; he didn't even know the damn guys name,

"Freed," The teacher supplied. "And I am confident. You'll love cooking by the end of it. I'm sure."

"You talk a big game," Laxus chuckled a little. He almost forgot he was kneeding the dough, but Freed looked down at his hands and grinned a little, which got Laxus to pause. Just because he was kneeding dough it didn't mean he cared; it was basically a workout. That was all, and Freed needed to know that. "If you're that sure, then I'm gonna insist you eat everything I make, no matter how shitty it turns out to be."

"So long as you don't sabotage yourself on purpose, I can agree to that."

Well, Laxus had slightly wanted to make Freed eat combinations of food that tasted like crap, but this could work. Laxus really was that bad of a cook, Freed might not be able to know the difference.

"Deal," Laxus nodded, offering Freed a hand to shake. The chef did so immediately, with a firm squeeze and… oh damn, those veins!

——

Week Two - Curry

Laxus had been right. Even putting in the effort and following the recipie as best he could, he was still a shitty cook. Unless, of course, a curry was meant to be accompanied by a waft of dark, burning smoke when you opened up the oven. Laxus coughed a little as he removed the dish from the oven, placing it on the counter top while shutting the oven door with his foot,

Freed was storming over immediately, flapping at the smoke with a dish towel and immediately turnoff the extractor fan on to suck up the smoke before it reached the detector. He had previously been working with a pink haired bastard, who was snickering at Laxus' failure. Asshole.

"What on earth did you do to it?" Freed demanded, more confused than angry.

"I followed her recipe," Laxus retorted indignantly. "Can't blame me."

"Everyone else has the same recipe and they've managed fine," Freed muttered under his breath. "Explain to me what happened."

Laxus bit down the instinct to tell Freed to choke on something, patronising ass that he was. He had made a deal with Freed the week prior that he would do what he could to make the most of the lessons, and he would enjoy knowing how to make a few meals, so admitting his mistakes was something that he would have to do. Even if it was to a smug, ego-centred teacher who Laxus could definitely take in a fight without breaking a sweat,

Maybe he should suggest some boxing lessons. Laxus had given up pro fighting the year before, but kept it up for fun. If Freed was acting like Laxus was stupid for not knowing the basics of cooking, Laxus would act like Freed was stupid when he didn't understand how to box.

Fantasising about punching Freed in the stomach - which was no doubt toned and sexy as hell - made talking through the process easier. Freed wore a slight frown, apparently not seeing anything wrong with what he had done. Laxus was about to boast that he was right, and that it was Freed's instructions that had gotten the burned pile of mush that filled the room with smoke, but Freed's expression turned to one of understanding when he looked at the oven,

"These work on Celsius, you set it as though you were using Fahrenheit," Freed explained. "You essentially nuked it."

Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!

He could have dealt with it if he was unable to do some cooking thing he'd never had to use before. But this? Misreading a piece of paper and setting the wrong temperature on the damn oven, how the hell had he managed to do that? It was humiliating! He was a grown ass adult, a retired sportsman who was forging a career to be respected. But an oven had made him look like an idiot who couldn't do anything for himself. Fucking brilliant.

With clenched fists, he rested against the workbench and leant on it with closed eyes. This was why he didn't do shit like this; he needed to keep in his lane and do what he was good at. Not cook, not have this weird hate-boner for his teacher. None of this.

"How soon after the class do you need to leave?" Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' spiralling thoughts. He frowned, but answered.

"Don't have any plans after."

"If we start again, we can have you finished ten minutes after class. That way it won't be an act of futility," Freed said, and rolled his damn sleeves up again. Thankfully he was moving around the counter, turning the oven down and fiddling with appliances fast enough to stop Laxus' eyes from lingering. "I can teach you how to spice things to your own tastes, as well. Normally that's next week, but I can advance you for your troubles."

"Advance me?" Laxus frowned. "Kinda need to be good at the basics first."

"You are, everything you said was correct. You made a small mistake that I should have noticed," Freed shrugged, walking to the counter he taught from and taking a box of ingredients to place on Laxus' desk. "I thought you'd learn better left to your own devices, and while I expect that was true, I shouldn't have left you alone. That was my mistake and as such, I'll amend it. We'll make a curry suited towards your tastes."

This was an olive branch, Laxus was sure of it. Freed had apparently noticed Laxus' shift of mood, and took the blame for Laxus' mistake. He was thankful of it, but it was still embarrassing.

Thankfully, a way of saving face had presented itself.

"I don't know if I can believe ya," He said with a small, somewhat forced smirk. "I mean, you don't have a record for keeping promises, do ya?"

"Don't I?"

"You told me you'd eat some of everything I made," Laxus shrugged, looking towards his pot of 'curry' that lay stagnant in the pot. It was grey, somehow. Food shouldn't be grey. "That was a lie."

Freed sighed, but didn't back down. He pulled a dessert spoon from one of the drawers, carefully scooped up some of the ruined mush and brought it towards his lips; damn they were pretty. He openly winced at the smell, swallowing preemptively as it got closer to his mouth. He glanced towards Laxus for a split second, who was watching him with crossed arms expectantly, and let out a resigned sigh. He opened his mouth, took in the spoon, then ate.

First he gagged, then he coughed, then he struggled to swallow. Even though Laxus had worked hard, and a small part of him thought Freed was exaggerating, he laughed at the reaction. Freed was fighting to keep the burned, disgusting food down. Once completely swallowed, he turned to Laxus with a wince.

"Delicious," He lied, trying to hide how thoroughly unhappy he was.

"If that's the case, there's plenty more," Laxus smirked, and Freed actually winced. That, of course, spurred Laxus on further. This was more fun than cooking. "Eat up, I don't mind."

Freed seemed to think for a moment, before standing up straight, rolling his back, and doing something Laxus never would have expected. He pulled out a plate and a ladle, scooped a portion large enough to fill two fully grown adults would struggle to finish no matter what the taste, and placed it on the countertop as if it was something to be proud of.

"A deal," Freed proposed. "I want to teach you one on one for the rest of the session. No distractions, no changing the subject, simply me telling you how to cook. Essentially, until you've cooked something successfully, I want your full attention."

Laxus nearly scoffed, Freed already had that. Instead, he said: "What's my 'delicious' curry got to do with that."

"If you make an attempt to distract me, to get out of lessons in some way, or continue with the mindset that this course is not suited to you, then for the rest of your time learning under me, you'll stay after class and clean everyone's dishes until I'm satisfied with the result."

Laxus winced a little. "And if I don't do any of that."

"I'll eat all of this," He motioned to the plate of ruined food. "And you may watch me do it."

Thinking for a moment, Laxus grinned. "Your funeral," He then glances at the food and winced. "Possibly literally."

Freed waved off the comment, stood beside Laxus with his new range of ingredients, and began explaining the basics of how to get a flavour you desired from your ingredients. On instinct Laxus wanted to taunt the man, suggesting the best way to get a flavour was with a take-out menu, but he managed to stop himself before the words slipped out. Mainly it was to avoid four weeks of dish washing, but also because he hasn't seen Freed like this. He was passionate when he spoke about cooking, and Laxus didn't want to ruin that.

And when Freed's arm slid against Laxus' as they moved, somehow at the same moment Freed looked at him with a genuine smile, Laxus felt shivers roll over him. This was… there were worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

——

Week Three - Chicken Soup

"Y'know, if you're gonna make such a big deal about-" Laxus cut himself off. Holy shit.

He had been ready to blast into Freed about puntuality. Laxus had gotten to the class on time, only to see that Freed was not there. Eight minutes into the lesson, the door had opened, and Laxus was fully intending to lambast Freed about how much of a big deal it was when Laxus was late, and yet Freed was just as bad. He only stopped when he saw the state Freed was in. Because dammit, the man was drenched to the bone.

What the hell had happened to him? Sure it was raining, but Laxus knew he had a car, and surely the walk from the parking lot to the building hadn't been that bad. He looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a lake and lost.

"Everyone to your work stations please," Freed instructed, removing his coat as he walked to the front of the class. "I apologise for being late, but it shouldn't be too much of an imposition if we all focus."

Laxus was focusing. Focusing on the fact Freed's white shirt was clinging to his chest, showing off strong pecs and the taunting glimpse of a six-pack. It was a temp tight sight, and far too indecent for a classroom setting.

He shook his thoughts away. He needed to focus, because last week's lesson had proved a lot of things. One: Freed was willing to eat a whole plate full of disgusting food to prove a point, which wasn't relevant but Laxus still thought funny to think about him gagging and going green. Two: Freed was actually a damn good teacher, he just apparently hadn't know what Laxus needed from him until the latter half of the class. Three: Laxus actually could cook, if taught well. Because the second curry he'd made was indescribable, and it had tasted just as good when Laxus had cooked it two nights prior.

So, the lessons were actually working, and Laxus decided he was going to fully allow himself to be a student. Groping the teacher with his eyes wasn't going to help that, so Laxus remained quiet and let Freed explain the lesson.

To learn how to flavour things correct, they would all be making a series of different soups throughout the hour. Five basic recipes has been placed on their workspaces, and an entire array of spices, ingredients and flavourings had been scattered through the room. The point of the exercise was to follow the recipes, but also put other ingredients into their soups while doing it so that they can experiment with flavours. It was pretty smart, and Laxus felt like he had an advantage given Freed's impromptu lesson with spices the week before.

Once Freed stopped talking, they began cooking, and Laxus felt oddly confident in himself.

About ten minutes into the exercise, Freed made his way to Laxus' workstation. Wordlessly, he picked up a plastic ladle and scooped out a small amount of the soup Laxus had cooking. Laxus watched with only a small amount of anticipation as Freed brought the soup to his lips and swallowed it, and didn't focus on the flipping of his stomach as Freed smiled at him.

"It's very good," he praised, and Laxus did not preen at the words.

"Thanks," He muttered instead. "Any advice?"

Freed smiled a little at the request, placing the ladle in the small sink. "I'd use sea salt from now on, it'll bring out the flavour of the chicken more. But your instincts have served you well, it works very well together."

"Oh, thanks," Laxus mumbled awkwardly, and Freed didn't help by leaning over the table to look at Laxus' recipe, bring their faces far too close. Thank god the heat of the room has fixed the slight transparency of Freed's shirt, because knowing about the body below the clothes was tempting enough with him this close. If he could see the man's body, he might explode.

"You've put everything you've added onto this, haven't you?" Freed asked, tapping the recipe that had Laxus notes covering it. Laxus nodded weakly. "Then, if you can recreate it as it is now,I then it's time to experiment. Pick something at random to add and see what it tastes like. If it's bad, remake what you've already done."

"Anything huh?" Laxus quirked a brow. "You know you have to eat it, right? You wanna give me this much freedom after last week?"

"So long as you choose your ingredients thinking it will taste good, I'll uphold my agreement," Freed shrugged. "Though I must admit, I'd prefer not to spend the night with stomach cramps and a bucket beside my bed again, if avoidable."

Laxus barked out a laugh. "Kinda thought I'd killed ya when you didn't show up on time. What happened?"

"My car's broken down," Freed explained, looking over the herbs Laxus had added. "It took longer to get here than I expected."

"You walked in this?" Laxus glanced towards the heavy rainfall beating down on the windows.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "Not my smartest decision."

Laxus winced a little at a roll of thunder exploded outside, apparently trying to make sure Freed knew just how stupid his decision had been. Freed didn't seem too bothered by it, though, and instead walked towards the old woman who worked behind Laxus, tasting her version of tomato soup and giving her advice on how to give it an extra kick.

The rest of the lesson continued on like that. Freed would work his way around the room, helping where he could. Laxus experimented on his soup, finding parmasean to be the missing ingredient.

Freed actually licked his damn lips after trying that. Did he know what he was doing to Laxus?

Once the lesson was over, the storm still lighting up the sky, Laxus walked to the door of the rec-centre. Freed was lingering there, wrapped up in a large red coat and clearly not looking forward to his walk home. Laxus understood that; the rain was so hard it probably would hurt to be under it.

"I'll drive ya home," Laxus said, his tone not leaving room to argue.

"What?" Freed asked. "No, that's not-"

"Didn't give you a choice, did I?" Laxus crossed his arms.

"You intend to kidnap me?" Freed joked.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "If you walk out in that, you're gonna get sick for no reason other than your own stubbornness. If that happens, the. Eat I can do for you is give you the recipe for this," he patted the container of chicken soup he held, "but I kinda think driving you might make more sense."

Freed considerd before speaking. "I insist on paying for gas, at least."

"Course you will, I ain't a cheap date."

The words came before Laxus could stop himself, and a flush of worry spread through him. Freed simply laughed, murmured a teasing "I expect not," and walked towards the door. He held it open for Laxus to walk through, and with a small grin, Laxus did so, with Freed by his side.

When the rain hit them, Laxus didn't care, and it certainly didn't diminish the silly smile that he hoped Freed couldn't see.

——

Week Four - Meringues

"What are you looking at, Laxus?"

Freed seemed amused as he spoke, and he walked towards Laxus' working area. Laxus had been trying to catch his teacher's eye for around a minute, with probably a stupid little grin on his face. He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed about being caught out.

The drive home with Freed has been a long one - thirty minutes in the car; how long would it have been if he'd walked! - and they'd talked throughout. Laxus had learned that, until recently, Freed had been a professional chef for the TV show 'Sabertooth Chefs', a cooking competition watched by millions. He was off camera, making the meals that the celebrity judges claimed they had cooked to use as an example for their contestants. Apparently he quit because of a lack of passion.

That, and apparently Rufus Lore - the judge he cooked for - was obnoxious and could barely bake a loaf of bread if left on his own.

Laxus spoke about his own life. How he'd felt obligated to quit his pro-boxing career after a nasty head wound that resulted in his scar. How he was now a freelance writer who did sports analysis for some of the sports magazines and websites. Freed had seemed impressed, and claimed he'd watch out for his work.

They were closer now, and as such Laxus felt comfortable joking with him.

"I've got a question," he said when Freed was close. "You said you'd taste everything I cook, right? Well, for food, tasting something means you're experiencing it, right?"

"I suppose," Freed agreed, though seemed to know he was walking into a trap.

"Well, with meringues, you showed us that trick, right," Laxus smirked. "Where if you've made it correctly, you can turn the bowl over and the mixture won't fall out."

"Yes," Freed was wary now.

"Well, you also said for the best experience," he put emphasis on the word, "then you tip it up over your head. If you've done it right, it stays in the bowl. If you ain't, it covers ya."

"I did say that," Freed muttered.

"Well, if you're gonna experience everything I make, surely you should do it." He smirked; and pushed the bowel of mixture towards him.

Freed looked down, resignedly.

Then he perked up and reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. He flipped it with flair and caught it, covering it before either of them could see the result.

"Heads or tails?" He requested, and Laxus chuckled.

"Heads."

Freed removed his hand, and Laxus let out a cry of triumph. He nudged the bowel towards Freed, grinning wide and ridiculous as Freed openly sighed. Laxus crossed his arms to hurry the man up, and it seemed to work.

With quick, resigned movements, Freed lifted the bowel. The thick white mixture jiggled slightly, and Freed turned it upside down above his head before he could stop himself.

And… it stayed in place.

For a moment, Freed seemed to be wincing in anticipation, before a look of triumph flooded onto his face. He turned the bowel back over and placed it on the counter.

"Kinda anticlimactic," Laxus said, picking up a spoon.

"But it means you did it correctly," Freed smiled. "You can take solace in that."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. "Or I could do this."

With neither showmanship nor hesitation, Laxus used the spoon so scoop a dollop of the mixture up and flicked it towards Freed's face. For a moment, all Freed could do was blink, and Laxus burst into stifled laughter.

It had splattered over his lips, nose, and left cheek. Equal parts ridiculous and oddly attractive.

"Mister Dreyar," Freed spoke calmly, but he was trying to hide a smile. "I will be seeing you after class."

He turned away. Laxus snickered.

Although it was tempting to be a dick for the rest of the lesson, Laxus behaved himself. This was the only lesson that they did on desserts, and Laxus wanted to learn. That, and he felt Freed wasn't going to take his little prank lying down, so he probably shouldn't piss him off further.

When everyone else was gone, and Laxus was left alone with Freed, there was a moment of quiet. He motioned for Laxus to approach the desk. Laxus did so.

He was hit in the face by a spurt of ketchup.

It continued, splattering across his face. He gasped, and Freed apparently aimed for his mouth at the moment. It was a stupid moment, not helped by the noise the bottle was making, and eventually the spray died out.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

They both started laughing at the same time, and Freed handed Laxus a napkin to clean himself with.

"You're an asshole, you know that right?" Laxus said with mirth in his voice. "You still got the balls to want a ride from me again?"

"Is the offer still available?" Freed chuckled.

"Sure, just as long as you don't mind me getting some glue and those decorative feather things from a store on the way back," Laxus smirked. "There's a smug asshole who needs to be tarred and fathered."

"Perhaps I'll get the bus," Freed grinned, then frowned a little. Perhaps without thinking, he reached up and stroked Laxus' cheek to rid it of a remaking fleck of sauce.

They both halted, frozen for a moment, and Laxus' mind was set alight. In that moment he knew one thing for sure; he couldn't let Freed go.

——

Week Five - Solyanka

"That will be all for our time together," Freed said, standing at the front of the class. "I hope you all enjoyed your time together, and that you've all learned something. At the risk of promoting myself, I have other courses available that last longer and offer more flexibility with what you'll cook, if you want to further your culinary pursuits. If not, then it was a pleasure working with you all, and I wish you well in your endeavours."

It was weird seeing Freed using his teaching voice; the things he said weren't Freed-like. It was kind of funny.

Laxus hung back when the rest of the class funnelled out. Some of them spoke to Freed before leaving, orbits just left, but Laxus decided to hang back and wait. As he did, he pulled out a small plastic tub from a bag he'd brought with him, waiting for Freed to take note. Once everyone was gone, Freed saw him still standing at the end of his cooking surface.

"Laxus," He said, and he seemed pleased Laxus was still there. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wasn't ready to leave yet," Laxus passed it off as a joke, but the stopped himself. "I, Erm, well, there's this recipe my family's been making for years. Generations, actually. Just wanted to know what you think."

"You want me to critique a family recipe?" Freed frowned.

No. No he didn't. He wanted to share something with Freed that was important to Freed. It was ridiculous to think, but this old Russian dish was something he had loved for his life, and he wanted Freed to love it too. It seemed stupid now he was thinking about it, but they only really had food in common right now, and Laxus felt like it was his turn to add something to the conversation.

"It's called Solyanka," Laxus said instead of answering the question. "It's a soup. For sausages, olives, cabbage. A lot of things, really."

Laxus didn't say anything else, and picked out a pot from the cupboards to place on the stove. He emptied the contents of the container into the pot and stated to bear it up.

"It tastes better when it's not been reheated but-"

"It smells beautiful," Freed said, cutting through Laxus' backtracking. "And I'm sure it will taste just as good."

"Thanks," Laxus mumbled a little.

As they waited for the soup to heat, there was a comfortable quiet between them both. Freed seemed engrossed in the cooking - the growing scent, the occasional stirring - and it gave Laxus the chance to watch him. He had known Freed was hot from the moment he'd seen him, but he was also fucking beautiful. His hair was pulled out and flowing over his shoulders, and his expression was calm and relaxed.

Laxus was glad he had done this, suddenly. He would have regretted it. This couldn't be the end of his relationship with Freed; it just couldn't.

He went to speak, but Freed went first.

"I think it's time to take it off the heat," He said gently, as if wanting to avoid offending Laxus by telling him how to cook his meal. Laxus quickly removed the pot from the heat.

With now familiar movements, Laxus pulled out two bowls and poured them both a portion. Laxus sat on one of the stools, waiting a little nervously as he saw Freed spoon some of the soup up and take it into his mouth.

"Wow," Freed whispered. "It's incredible."

Pride bloomed inside Laxus, and he didn't tamper it down. This piece of Laxus had pleased Freed. It had made Freed smile such a brilliant smile that it was like a shot to the heart. He was speechless, and Freed spoke again.

"You're incredible, Laxus," he said with equal sincerity.

"What?" Laxus frowned slightly.

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed repeated, smiling now. "You've made these five weeks remarkably fun for me, and I'm sad to see you go."

"I'm sad to be going," Laxus mumbled, unused to speaking honestly about these kinds of things. "These have been… the best part of my week."

"Mine too," Freed admitted, and the words sent lighting throughout him.

There had been a small part of Laxus that had thought it had been in his head. He felt like he and Freed had been steadily growing closer and closer, in a way that couldn't exactly be called platonic. It felt like this was the moment where a choice had to be made. Laxus could either hide from his feelings, as he had often done in his life, or he could take the dive. Just like he'd done when he had quit his job. Just like he'd done when he'd come to the class in the first place. Just like he should have been doing all his life.

Freed was going to speak, but the urge to act overtook Laxus and he moved before it could dwindle. He launched himself toward, took Freed by the back of the neck, and kissed him.

It wasn't perfect, but the imperfection made it better.

The feeling of the desk jutting into his hip might have been a bother, but it was nothing compared the the brilliance of soft lips moving against his own.

The lingering spice on Freed's tongue could have been a distraction, but it only added to the searing sensation flying through him.

The scent of Laxus' Solyanka might have drawn focus, but instead it nudged with Freed's cologne and created a beautiful feeling of mingled familiarity and uniqueness.

This was the type of kiss that was unforgettable.

Freed's hand was grazing the back of Laxus' neck, scratching at the usually untouched skin in a way Laxus was tempted to put at. He smiled a dopey smile, leaning further into the kiss.

When they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, they couldn't look away from each other.

"Don't know how this works with a chef," Laxus began in a whisper. "Don't wanna offend your sense of pride, but d'you maybe wanna get a bite to eat some place?"

For a stagnant second, that felt like an eternity to Laxus, Freed didn't say anything.

"I'd love that," Freed nodded a little, though his head still rested against Laxus'. "So long as you don't mind me critiquing everything?"

The joke was trumped by the honesty in his voice. Freed really wanted it!

"I can deal with that."

They shared a quiet, private smile. One that promised excitement, passion, and if Laxus allowed himself to be optimistic, perhaps a future as well.

#Fraxus #freed x laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #one shot #Word Count: 6k

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