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brattata · 4 years ago

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Windows

Crossposted from my AO3 account, if it seems familiar. Mature content below, so minors please DNI!

Joseph's been putting a lot of work into your real estate business, and it's really starting to pay off. You wanted to congratulate him by christening his fancy new desk in his fancy new office, but things don't go according to your plan.

Joseph Joestar x AFAB reader (no female pronouns used, but reader wears feminine clothing)

CW: Semi-public sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, creampie, Joseph says “cunt” one (1) time

“It’s impressive,” you admit, leaning in for an almost-kiss.

Instead of closing the distance, Joseph grabs your hands and pulls you up from the couch excitedly, leading you over to the far wall. “You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he teases. “Watch this.”

He reaches up to press a subtly disguised switch, and it becomes apparent that the “wall” is actually a massive floor-to-ceiling window, slowly revealed from behind the dark wood paneling.

“Wow,” you whisper, pressing your hand to the cool glass. Beyond it is the Manhattan skyline, breathtaking from 15 stories up. The brightness of the city obscures most of the stars, but the thousands of twinkling lights and glowing windows are beautiful in their own way. There are people behind some of those windows, you think – working late, or maybe enjoying time with their families. Maybe taking in the view with the person they love most, the way you are now.

Joseph hums a kiss into your hair, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His comforting weight against your back and impish smile reflected in the glass make you feel so warm inside, your heart could burst.

Until one of his hands slips beneath your skirt.

“JoJo!” you gasp, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Oh come on, don’t be coy!” he laughs. “The champagne, the perfume…that skirt, with no nylons underneath.” His smirk is undeniably sexy, but that only makes you more annoyed. “You didn’t come here for a tour of the new office.”

“No, I wanted to celebrate with you!” You pause. “In your new chair, or maybe on top of your new desk. But not in front of a window, Joseph!”

“Why not?” he asks, almost sounding genuinely perplexed.

“Someone could see!”

“Who?” he laughs again. “It’s late. No one’s watching. Even if they were, they would be too far away to see our faces.” Now he’s trailing kisses down the back of your neck, shameless as ever in exploiting your weaknesses. “And besides, I think you like an audience.”

“I-JoJo, what-,” you splutter, scandalized and yet burning at his accusation.

“I noticed last summer at Grandma Erina’s,” he replies, letting his lips brush against your nape. “When Smokey walked in on us. You remember, right?”

How could you forget? Even now, the memory has your insides twisting with a complicated emotion you can’t quite place. Like embarrassment but sharper, hotter. Exciting.

“I’d never seen you make that face before. Not to mention the way you held onto me…and well, held onto me.” Joseph pauses from tormenting your neck to flash you a dirty little grin. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

“O-oh, Joseph, I’m. I don’t know,” you trail off. Immediately his chin comes to rest on top of your head, one arm draped around your shoulders and the other curling soothingly around your waist.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, baby,” he murmurs. “I only want to make you feel good.”

You take a moment, studying your feelings and Joseph’s gentle (but hopeful) expression. Then you unfasten your skirt.

Immediately Joseph lets go of you with a little whoop and a fist pump before tearing into his shirt and tie.

“God, you’re lucky you’re handsome,” you scold him good-naturedly, giggling a bit at his childishness. You kick the skirt away, opting to leave your kitten heels on. Next comes your blouse, which you unbutton slowly for Joseph’s benefit. His shirt is gone, along with his belt. He palms himself lazily over unbuttoned pants, watching your fingers work.

“Don’t forget heroic, a genius, and—“ his bragging is cut short by a low whistle as your bra is revealed, a delicate little number formed of translucent lace. Once you let the blouse fall he can fully appreciate the matching panties, cupping your ass nicely but leaving very little to the imagination. “Baby, you did come dressed to celebrate.”

When you reach back to undo the bra clasp Joseph stops you, lips back on your neck and hands rubbing your shoulders. Instead you tug the cups down until your breasts spill out, earning you a hissed “Niiice” before his hands quickly replace the lace. The contrast is delicious – warm, calloused flesh on one side, smooth and cool metal on the other. Both options have your nipples pebbling almost instantly, Joseph kneading your tits with reverence as if this is a rare treat rather than something he gets to do almost every day.

It is kind of a special occasion.

Before long his right hand drifts down your stomach, slipping deftly into your underwear. You’re so slick he can barely keep a finger on your clit, forcing a whine from you and a low groan from him. “Holy shit, you’re wet! The thought of putting on a show for some strangers gets you this worked up?”

“N-no, I’m excited for you, JoJo,” you coo, hips undulating along with his fingers. “It feels so good when you touch me.”

“Hmm, seems like I barely need to touch you at all,” he replies, back to his smug grin. With little warning he slips one finger inside you, then two, then three. There’s the tiniest sting, but you take them all easily. “See? You’re already ready for me.” It’s hard to argue when his strong, thick fingers are knuckle deep inside you and your pussy is still aching for more. “Since you want it so badly, guess it’s time to stop playing around and have some real fun.” The fingers are gone. “Bend over, baby.”

With a shaky sigh you do as you’re told, bracing your hands against the window and sliding your legs apart. You can’t resist wiggling your hips a little, asking for a playful swat from Joseph’s right hand. His left hand is suddenly gripping your ass, thumb spreading your lower lips open even wider and sweeping the gusset of your panties aside. You hear a zipper and rustling fabric, but instead of his cock, it’s a puff of warm air that caresses your pussy, followed by a firm stroke of his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” you wail, leaning your forehead against the glass.

“Not until you beg for it, my love,” Joseph chuckles. “I can eat this sweet pussy all night! Make you come until you’re crying for my cock!”

“JoJo!” you moan, desperately. You want to ask what’s gotten into him, but he’s sucking hard on your clit and you can barely hold a thought. He’s always been vocal during sex, but his babbling is usually sweet, not this demanding or…filthy. You love your adorably enthusiastic Joseph, but this version is also thrilling, and it makes you wonder if you’re not the only one excited by imagining eyes on the other side of the window. He’s slurping your pussy so loudly you know it’s deliberate, groaning like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

And for another reason, you realize, when you look at your reflections and see him vigorously stroking his cock. It’s the sight that carries you over the edge: Joseph kneeling with his face buried between your legs, so turned on that he can’t help but touch himself. You come with a strangled squeal, and Joseph gives your clit an affectionate peck as if to say “good job.” He’s gripping the base of his cock so hard it looks painful.

“Fuck me, JoJo,” you gasp. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

You rest for a bit against the window while Joseph stands and adjusts his grip on your hips. Now there are two thumbs spreading you open completely, which you might protest as embarrassing if you weren’t turned on beyond all pretense. You suck in a breath when the head of his cock finally kisses your opening, only for him to stop before taking the plunge.

“Look at that. It’s show time after all.” Blearily, you lift your head to see a silhouette in one of the windows in the office building across from you. Whoever it is has dimmed their lights so you can’t see much other than a vague shape, but it’s easy to imagine a strange pair of eyes staring into yours as Joseph sinks deep with one thrust.

The sudden stretch and the arousal have you coming again, softly this time, an aftershock of the pleasure you got from Joseph’s tongue. He leans his weight against your ass and holds still, luxuriating in the way you ripple around him, like you want him even deeper. “Fuck, this is good! We should’ve done this sooner!”

“Yeah,” you agree dreamily, grinding back against Joseph while you wait for him to move. He pulls back and thrusts hard, making your palms squeak against the glass.

“Maybe-“ he grunts, “maybe we should try it again on Monday morning. I’ll brace you against the doorway of my office, just like this, and we can show everyone that sexy face you’re making. Show them how hard I make you come.”

“But I don’t want them to see,” you murmur back. “Those things, I only want to show them to you, JoJo.”

“S-shit,” he gasps. “Fuck, you’re so hot. So beautiful!” He has a hand around your breast again, lips, tongue, and teeth trailing across your neck and shoulders just the way you like. He presses his face next to yours and gently tilts your chin up, making you look out the window again. “It looks like our new friend agrees.”

Across from you, the silhouette’s arm is moving back and forth. You can’t really see what’s happening, but you know.

“You’re so sexy, you’ve got him jerking off in the middle of his office,” Joseph laughs breathily. He slips two fingers between your parted lips, stroking your tongue in time with his thrusts. “Who could blame him? Watching those gorgeous tits bouncing above that pretty lace. Imagining his cock is the one pounding out your hot little cunt.”

You stiffen up a bit at the vulgarity and Joseph kisses your temple, asking with his eyes if what he said was okay. “Yes, yes, fuck,” you moan around his fingers, bracing against the glass to shove yourself into his cock, demanding deeper, harder, more. Joseph tilts his head to kiss you hungrily. His wet fingers go straight to your clit where they rub and pinch until you’re whimpering into his mouth, near tears.

“He can’t even hear how wet you are,” Joseph continues. “So wet you’re dripping all over the nice new carpet.”

You laugh a little at that. “As if you’re not desperate to make an even bigger mess, JoJo,” you tease back, lips touching as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Will you clean me up, baby? After you make a mess of me?”

“Fuck yes,” Joseph groans. “I’ll do anything, anything!”

“Come for me. Come inside me. I need it so badly, JoJo.” Whether it’s a plea or a command, Joseph can’t help but obey. He presses his face between your shoulder blades and one lightly Hamon-charged fingertip to your clit, and you’re thrown off the cliff of a breathless, whiteout orgasm. It feels like every muscle in your body is clenching for Joseph’s cock. He’s scorching hot and huge inside you as he fills you up, and you wring him for every last drop. He slowly pulls out and helps you right yourself, turning your back to the window as he leans down for a kiss.

“That was amazing. I love you.” Before you can return the words he’s already sinking to his knees, nudging your legs apart so he can fit between them.

“Joseph, I’m tired,” you demur, stroking his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“But I still need to clean up,” he insists. When he grins at you like that, you can’t say no. “I’ll go slow, baby, I promise.”

He starts with your inner thighs, looking very pleased with himself when he gets a few giggles out of you from the ticklish sensation. When his mouth finally reaches your center it is slow and soothing. He’s not trying to force another orgasm from you – just enjoying you, caring for you, showing his love. You don’t come by the time he’s finished, but you don’t need to. You just want him to hold you, so he does.

When you reach the couch he plops down on it, keeping you cradled in his lap. He takes off both of your shoes and stretches out on his back (as much as he can), draping you across his front. He’s warm, and you can feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and even though you know you’re going to be ungodly sore tomorrow, right now everything feels perfect.

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest.

“Anytime, baby,” he chuckles warmly. He smiles up at you, looking happy but not as content as you feel.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, a little worried. “It was good for you, wasn't it? Not…weird?”

“Of course, it was great for me! Don’t look at me like that!” He reaches for your cheek, rubbing at the corner of your frown. “I was just, ah,” he clears his throat, adjusting your position so that you’re more beside him than on top of him. On the way down, your leg brushes what is unmistakably a semi-erection already straining against his briefs. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier, about ‘celebrating’ on my desk.”

“Absolutely not,” you groan, nuzzling against his shoulder, eyes already closed.

“Your next line is: ‘Maybe tomorrow, JoJo!’”

“Nice try.”

#ao3 crosspost #jjba x reader #jjba x reader smut #joseph joestar x reader #joseph joestar x reader smut #these tags are kinda dry but idk what else to say :/#my writing tag

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vodkassassin · 5 years ago

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world state: refresh, chapter two

Last chapter: “—From the description, it’s basically the same as the synopsis of your run of the mill VRMMORPG anime, except the virtual games are real worlds.”

“Sure, but if they’re real worlds, then what does being a Game Master mean?”

Shen Yuan grins down at him.

“Hey, Airplane,” he says. “How do you feel about being an actual god?” [Read ch. 1]

—

“Oh, yaaawn!” She throws herself back onto the plush surface behind her and stretches her arms above her head. “Man, what a chore! Hey, Dorazou, make a note to always double check the Mission Rating before accepting an Assignment in the future. No way in hell am I gonna be doing that again!”

“AwRAWRight!” The tiny avatar cheers, pumping a little red scaled fist into the air. “Reminder set! Hey, Host, if it’s any consolation, this system thinks you totally aced it!”

“Hmm,” she crosses her arms and stars at the collection of screens that have popped into existence before her. “The mission grading will be the judge of that. Let’s see, here…. Oh, awesome! I earned a double S score! You know what that means!”

Dorazou gives another little roar cheer that sounds more like a kitten's mew than anything. Ah, so cute! “Host may close her next Assignment! Congratulations!”

The agent gathers her hair up into a loose and messy bun at the top of her head, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Awesome. Let’s choose something easy, why don’t we? That last world was only an A-rank, but it gave me a lot more trouble than I bargained for. It should have been labeled at least S-tank! Dorazou, bring up all available Assignments. B-rank or lower only, please!”

“Gotcha!” The tiny dragon-themes sprite gives a little twirl, it’s clunky arms flailing adorably. “Assignment list set to: Easy!”

“Perfect, thanks! Let’s take a look, now… Otome-world…. Fantasy style cooking show star, haha. I have zero talent in that area, so please decline it for me, Dorazou…. Another Knights Order needs a Pure Heavenly Maiden for such and such ritual, ah, that honestly just sounds so sinister, decline! And here we have yet another otome assignment, damn. These things are such pests. Oh, what’s this?”

Sitting up, the agent leans in and peers closely at the screen, eyes bright in excitement. “Hey, Dorazou! This one calls for a team of agents!”

“That is correct!” Dorazou says, beaming. The dragon floats up to sit comfortably on the girl’s shoulder. “System Agents 74 and 81 have put in a request for additional manpower in the Game Master Assignment for World-120MAX. If Host accepts, she and four other agents will be tasked with working under the leadership of Agent 74 in creating and managing a Game World.”

She tilts back again, kicking her legs up into the air with some excitement. “What’s the deadline?”

Dorazou is quiet for a moment as it studies the screens. It gives a hearty cheer and pats the agent on the head. “No deadline! Host will remain on Agent 74’s GM Team until it is decommissioned by the Team itself!”

She jumps off the beanbag entirely to float up into the air, catching the little dragon sprite and hugging it to her chest. “Awesome! So it’s basically a neverending paid vacation, if we want it to be? That totally rocks! Dorazou, we lucked out with this one!”

“AwRAWRight!” The tiny system cheers, looping its scaly arms around her neck in a hug. “Is Host choosing this Assignment, then?”

“As if I’d ever turn down a chance like this! System Agents hardly ever get to work together! Dorazou, please confirm my acceptance!”

“Assignment chosen! Does Host wish to rest in the home space before starting?”

“Nah, I’m way too pumped now,” she clenches her fists and grins. “Dorazou, let’s go meet our new friends!”

“RAWR! World-120MAX loading! Twenty-eight percent! Fifty-percent! Eighty-three percent! World load complete! Entering database now!”

The agent grins as she dissolves into light. This is gonna be sweet!

—

“Nice to meet you! My name is Myra Khol, System Agent 23! I’m here for the Game Master Team Assignment!”

“The what?” The boy says, expression just positively befuddled as it has been when she’s first loaded into the world, and Myra tilts her head in slight confusion. Has this guy never met another agent before?

She hops down from the tree and steps over to him, a little surprised when he takes a step back in return. Man, this guy is shy! How cute!

“Wait a minute, did you just say ‘System’?” The boy straightens up, his eyes going even wider than they’d already been. “Does that mean you are also a transmigrator?”

“What else would I be?” Myra huffs out with some bemusement. “You guys clearly haven’t put any people in this world yet, so the only ones you’d be seeing are yourselves or another agent.”

“Agent…” the boy echoes, holding the fan up to his lips in thought. It’s an endearing gesture, something so old fashion being slightly out of place with the futuristic fantasy design of the boy’s outfit, and yet it still somehow fits him.

Myra blinks at him, and then decides to take pity. From the looks of it, this kid is a noob at the job. She remembers when that had been her. The good old days!

“Didn’t your Systems explain it to you guys yet?” She asks.

At her words, the boy’s expression darkens. “The System? No. Why would the System explain anything?”

Oh. That sounded like anger, there. Myra reaches out a hand and nervously scoots her precious Dorazou over until it’s hidden behind her back. The little dragon makes a tiny noise of confusion, but goes along with it.

The boy narrows his eyes at her action. “Speaking of systems… is that one yours?”

“Um, well,” Myra coughs. “Yes? But! Dorazou is such a sweet little thing! Wouldn’t harm a fly! Please take care of it!”

The boy looks confused. “Wouldn’t harm a fly! Have you never been threatened with Punishment Protocol?”

Myra gapes, aghast. “No! That’s reserved for triple S class worlds on the highest difficulty setting! Why would an Assignment like that be given to newbie agents?”

The boy stares at her, face pale.

“Oh.” Myra presses her hands over her mouth, staring at him in horror. “I mean, I’ve heard it happening only once. Someone being given an extreme-difficulty Assignment for their very first world. It was basically an impossible mission, but she luckily managed to complete it successfully. The Assignment Parameter glitch that led to it was suppose to have been fixed since then, though. Are you really saying…?”

The boy lets out a weak sounding laugh, bowing his head. He rubs the back of his arm across his eyes, and Myra feels something in her chest ache at the sight. These two agents… they’ve really been through the wringer, haven’t they?

Clearing her throat hesitantly, she asks, “The Assignment said there were two agents behind the request. Since you’re here, where’s your partner?”

“He’s on the other side of the Level, touching up on some persistent glitches that are occurring in quadrant five,” the boy releases an aggravated sigh. Then, he glances at Myra in surprise. “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Shen Yuan, it’s really nice to meet you.”

Myra grins back at him, relieved. “Is it? For a moment there, I thought you weren’t happy to see me.”

“Are you kidding?” Shen Yuan laughs again, and this one is much lighter. It suits him way better than the faintly grieved sound from before. “I am ecstatic to meet you. It’s nice to know that we’re not as alone as we thought. Here, I’ll take you to my… partner. He should be about finished by now.”

Myra bounces onto her toes in excitement. She grabs Dorazou by the tail and troops after Shen Yuan when the boy turns his back and begins to walk away.

“Man, not being given a tutorial world really sounds like it sucked,” Myra says, side eyeing her new teammate as she comes up beside him.

Shen Yuan has an odd smile on his face when he replies. “It was… definitely something, yes.”

“You want me to lodge a complaint with Management?” She asks, a pinch of worry between her brows. “If all three of us do it, they’ll have to take another look at the glitch and make double sure that it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

Shen Yuan is quiet for a long while as they walk along the quaint little dirt path. The silence stretches into minutes, and Myra decides to leave him to his thoughts, because it looks like he’s pondering something pretty deep.

She busies herself with checking out their surroundings as they move along. Shen Yuan has called this area the Level, and she’s assuming it’s the first of its kind, and therefore intended to be the Starting Area for the Players when they enter into this world. She’s done her reading while loading into the Assignment, so she’s fairly confident in her ability to assist Shen Yuan and his partner with whatever sort of administration work they need help with. So far though, from what she’s seeing, the two of them are actually off to a really good start. One or both of them must have some sort of experience in world building.

What a perfect Assignment for them, if that’s the case.

Especially if what Shen Yuan says is true, and he really had suffered through a triple S class of extreme difficulty for what was suppose to be their tutorial world. He really deserves a paradisal vacation such as this, where he can recuperate from the troubles he’d faced.

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Shen Yuan finally says, voice so quiet that Myra wouldn’t have heard it if the rest of the world around them wasn’t dead silent. It seems the audiosphere hasn’t been set up, yet.

Myra glances over to her side, and finds Shen Yuan staring down at the ground with a frown on his pretty face. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

“You said they already patched the glitch, so it shouldn’t have happened. They — whoever they are — clearly didn’t do their job.”

Myra bites her lip, and hugs a strangely quiet Dorazou to her chest. “Yeah, so we should file a complaint, right? And we can get the rest of the team on board with it, too, once they get here. I’m sure they’ll agree, too.”

“The rest of the team?” Shen Yuan asks, frown still present. He flicks his wrist, and the fan opens with a sharp snap and a skillful flourish. Myra stares at the action in awe. So refined! So graceful! And the fan itself was exquisite.

“I’m sorry, could you elaborate on the… Assignment Parameters you mentioned before? Xiao Lei and I just needed help, and the system said we’d have it. It didn’t explain what that help was, or where it would come from.”

Xiao Lei must be the other agent, Shen Yuan’ partner. Myra files the name away and directs a bright smile in the direction of her new teammate.

“Sure thing! Basically, your request generated a new Assignment in the listings for agents. It asks for five agents to form a team directly under you and your partner, though Agent 74 is suppose to be the team leader. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

Shen Yuan blinks at her, before his frown returns in full force. It looks faintly irritated this time, and the boy calls out, “System, what is my, uh, Agent number?”

There’s a faint sound of static, before a slightly stilted and robotic voice replies, “Host is filed as Agent 81.”

Myra glances down to see a Siamese cat, tail poised elegantly in the air and ears perked upright, weaving between Shen Yuan’s every step like a ghost. The cat glances up at her and blinks it’s bright blue eyes at her with an indifferent gaze.

“Oh, is that your System? It’s so cute!” She squeals.

The cat glances away from her, and Shen Yuan huffs.

“It’s an absolute snob, is what it is,” the boy refutes.

His system doesn’t look back up, and Myra feels a little bad for it, but…. Well, she supposed, if she’s been trapped in an SSS-rank hell world for her first Assignment, she might have some resentment toward her system, too.

She clutched Dorazou to her chest at the terrible thought, and is comforted when the little dragon spite turns around to nuzzle her back. It seems she’s really lucked out, huh?

“Does your system have a name?” She asks, scratching Dorazou behind the ear.

“Does it need one?” Shen Yuan asks coldly.

Myra cringes, glancing down at the aloof-looking cat that darts between his legs. It doesn’t even twitch at the way that it’s host speaks about it, and Myra decides to change the subject least the air becomes too awkward.

“So, um, I guess your partner is the designated team leader, then!” She tries, her smile fixed in place.

Shen Yuan shrugs. He flutters the pretty fan in front of his face and holds his other arm behind his back. He looks like some sort of regal young master of an ancient dynasty, with a posture like that. Myra wonders what the setting of his last world had been. Imperial court drama, perhaps? That sort of plot was almost always a guaranteed S rank.

“It suits him,” Shen Yuan says. “He has the most experience in creating worlds, so I guess I’d follow his lead even if he wasn’t the boss. Though, I’ll definitely be there to advise him, so he doesn’t get too carried away.”

“Carried away?” Myra wonders.

“It happens, sometimes.” Shen Yuan grimaces. “If it’s true that we’ll be a team, then I’ll be counting on you to keep an eye on him, as well.”

“Yes, of course!” Myra is a little confused, but Shen Yuan obviously knows his partner best, so she’ll take his words to heart. She salutes him. “You can definitely rely on me for that!”

This gets her a faint smile, and she inwardly cheers. This boy is surprisingly difficult to get a response out of. Myra hasn’t met someone like him in a long time.

Suddenly, Shen Yuan pulls to a stop, and gestures ahead of them. “We’re here,” he says, and then sighs. “Looks like he’s not finished… I wonder….”

Myra looks ahead of them, to see a huge structure looming in the distance. The forest they’ve been strolling through has given way to an open plain, grasslands mixed with an opaque sandy desert. A few hundred meters away sits a hulking building, which in closer examination is not a building at all, but in fact some sort of autonomous being. It’s collapsed on its side, limbs askew, a central panel of its torso gaping open to allow its mechanical insides to be strewn about throughout the grass and sand around it. There’s faint noises of metal hitting against metal coming from within it, and when Myra squints, she can just make out a tiny figure perched on the very edge of the thing’s opened chassis.

Shen Yuan takes a step forward, and Myra keeps back. He closes his fan with a satisfying clack and slips it into the pocket of his shorts, and then cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Shang Lei! Come here!”

Oh, so the other agent’s name was Shang Lei, not Xiao Lei.

Myra pokes at her lip in thought as she watches the distant figure poke it’s head up out of the mechanical innards of whatever creature they were tinkering around inside of. Shen Yuan, Shang Lei… those names both sound pretty Chinese to her. And in Chinese, Xiao is often used as a diminutive or an endearment. So, this must mean that Shen Yuan and Shang Leo are actually very close friends, right? Myra covers her smile with a hand.

Due to context gathered from Shen Yuan's earlier words, it must also be likely that they were partners in their last world. Meaning that Shang Lei also experienced what was, in layman’s terms, called a Hell Assignment. And it is likely that the Hell Assignment was also Shang Lei’s first Assignment, given that Shen Yuan has no idea about a lot of System Agent common sense.

If they were partners all this time, if Shang Lei had previous transmigration experience, he’d have schooled his partner on it by now. And yet, Shen Yuan was ignorant of a lot of things.

Myra presses both her palms to her cheeks and sighs quietly as she watches Shang Lei approach them. Shen Yuan has stepped up to meet him, but she can clearly see the hesitant way that Shang Lei holds himself, the wary way that he eyes her. The way that he slides himself into the shadow of Shen Yuan’s barely taller stature when he realizes she’s looking back at him.

She sighs in her heart, as well, and clutches Dorazou in one arm like a teddy bear. Her system pays her on the hand.

“—apparently posted an assignment asking for other agents to come and lend us a hand.” Shen Yuan is explaining quietly to his partner — his friend. He gestures at her with a hand. “This is Myra Khol, the first one to accept the mission.”

Myra steps forward the smallest step she can take without it seeming like she’s wary of them, too. It still makes Shang Lei duck even further behind Shen Yuan. She does not let it dim her smile.

“Hi, I’m Myra, System Agent 23! I’m pleased to meet you, boss!”

Shang Lei peeks out from behind his friend with wide eyes. There’s a complicated expression on his face.

“... Nice to meet you, too,” he mumbles, and curls back behind Shen Yuan as soon as the last word is out.

That is it! Myra has decided! She will help these two to the best of her abilities, not because it’s the Assignment, but because she wants to!

Dorazou! Edit Assignment self parameters!

[[Host!]]

The dragon sprite makes a soft noise from within her grasp. She sees the way that Shang Lei’s eyes dart down to it, and the frown that graces his face as he glances shyly back toward her with an expression that almost looks faintly concerned. For her. And given the fact that it’s very possible that Shang Lei’s opinion of systems is the same as Shen Yuan’s, due to their not-so-great past experiences, the look that he’s sending her now makes Myra’s heart melt.

[[Assignment parameters, self edit mode!]]

Myra’s smile broadens.

Take care of Agent 74 and Agent 81! Priority!

#scum villain's self saving system #bofuri #cheating men must die #world state: refresh #update #vodkassassin fanfiction #cucumberplane #vodkas ocs

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pi-cat000 · 5 years ago

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Premise: Everyone in the world is born with a Curse.

Curse-AU world-building thing: Baced of this post by writing-prompt-s

Don’t know if anyone’s picked it up on it but I love world building and have messing around with this premise for ages. Anyway, decided to make it a Mystery Skulls fic because I wanted to write Lewvithur stuff and wanted an interesting setting.

Pairings: Lewvithur

....

"Do you think she's okay?"

Lewis folds his arms, restless, glancing down at his lot number. 65. It put him near the end of the queue and the waiting is disagreeing with him.

"It's Vivi...she's the only person I've ever see get excited about knowing her Curse."

Arthur's reassurance is at odds with his fidgeting and own restless movement.

The hall around them slowly empties as, one by one, people take their turns entering and exiting the old community centre, temporarily repurposed into an Identification Centre. Almost half an hour ago Vivi had disappeared behind the makeshift wall which was bisecting the usually larger room in half to get her Curse identified.

“I mean it’s probably going to be a continuation of her bloodline curse so it’s not exactly going to be a surprise.”

Lewis immediately picks up on the undertone of bitterness and resignation in Arthur’s voice and reaches out to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, “There's always a chance a bloodline curse will skip a generation.”

“A small chance,” Arthur snaps, before wincing, “Sorry. Vivi might be happy with her family’s weird monster hunter Destiny Curse but Bad Luck curses suck and the Kingsman one hasn’t skipped a generation yet.”

“Bad Luck curses are manageable," Lewis reaffirms, sounding more certain than he is, “Lance handles his one just fine and there are all sorts of strategies and wards to mitigate the effects of probability-based curses." He lets his arm fall back to his side.

Of course, everyone hoped to get an Innocuous Curse. A curse that caused a small inconvenience in the individual’s day to day life. Lewis's mama had a Curse which manifested in her accidentally breaking one glass item a day. His dad’s Curse had him to stumbling when moving through specific doorways. When it came to Curses, a mild inconvenience was the best one could hope for. Usually, having two parents with an Innocuous Curse would increase his chances of getting one in the same category. Heck, one more iteration of a Pepper having an Innocuous Curse that involved breaking small objects the family would have one of the word’s most inane bloodline curses.

Only, he's adopted, so Lewis has no idea what to expect. He doesn't want to inconvenience his friends more than they already were, saddled with their respective bloodline curses. He exhales unhappily. Obviously, his sigh is a little louder than intended because Arthur glances over, mouth opening as if to ask something. Before Lewis can wave away any incoming concern, Vivi finally re-emergences.

She comes strolling out from around the makeshift barrier, practically skipping past the two stern government officials who were blockading the area. Her enthusiasm is at stark odds with the dourer atmosphere hanging over the remaining waiting crowd.

"A destiny of monster hunting awaits," Vivi crows in triumph as she hurries closer, garnering serval incredulous glances. "Was worried I was going to get mom's boring one for a second there... now dad has no excuse but to start teaching me his hunting stuff. So much for Mystery's warning that it would skip this generation."

"...congratulations," Arthur mumbles, gloomier than before, eyeing the official curse certificate that Vivi’s brazenly waving around. Usually, Curses weren’t things you celebrated.

Vivi laughs, takes a second to read the room, and sobers up a little "Ah, sorry. I mean...it’s a little exciting."

Lewis offers a smile, Vivi’s enthusiasm is contagious, “I’m happy for you.” Which isn’t a thing you would usually say to someone who’s found out it’s their destiny to hunt monsters but Vivi makes even the darkest parts of the world that much brighter.

“Thanks Lew. I know it’ll be a bit of an inconvenience when the Curse really kicks in in a few years, but I’ll make sure I’m prepared for it. I’ll do a load of training and we’ll have a good excuse to travel all over the place.”

“Lot 63″

The metallic voice echoes over the room’s speaker system, interrupting Vivi’s rush of dialogue, bouncing off the wood-panelled walls and floor. Simultaneously, as if of one mind, both he and Vivi turn to check on Arthur. He's turned several shades paler, hand tightening on his lot number, turning his knuckles white.

Vivi reaches out to hold the hand, squeezing it to loosen Arthur's death grip, “You’ll be fine,”

“My dad died because of his Curse” Arthur objects, voice high-pitched.

“Knowing what your Curse is doesn’t change things immediately. There’s always an adjustment period.”

Lewis nods, reaching out to take Arthur’s other hand, which fits easily in his palm, “Whatever Curse you get, we’ll have time to work it out.”

“63″ The voice sounds again, mildly impatient as, whoever it was, waited for Arthur to come forward.

“Right...yeah. It’s not the end of the world,” Arthur breaths in and out in a calming motion, forcing himself to step forward. Lewis gets a small, abet strained smile, and he lets go of Arthur's hand.

“I’ll be fine,” He hears Arthur repeat, walking past to be ushered out of view by a board-looking security guard.

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #curse au #lewvithur #i don't know what this was going to be but felt like writing some pre-slash #Pre-Slash #nothing really happens past some hand holding #not really a fic #ot3

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duskholland · 5 years ago

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Do I want a tfg blurb of Tom and y/n meeting at the BAFTAS?!?!?!???!!???!?!! YESSSSSS I DO!!!! AGJFFSDFGHGSSF VEERRRYYY MUUUCCCHHHH!!! PLSSS n if u think that no many will send tfg blurbs then combine that with another like hold a mob!Tom n tfg blurb night!!! Cuz some of us really wants tfg blurbs!!! N we have some ideas too!!

the baftas! the big night! I tried so hard to fit this into the main story but I just couldn’t, so I had a lot of fun finally writing this scene lmao. the start of it all...ahhhh. oh tom...oh...tom. thank you for requesting :)

status: pre-story; your pov // read the fame game!

— tfg blurb night! —

You know it’s a bad quality, but as you kick around the after-party of the BAFTAs, you’re seething with jealousy. It sticks to you, festers deep inside the pit of your stomach, and you can feel the perpetual frown on your face as you try to keep your mouth shut, lulling your tongue to rest with drink after drink.

You didn’t win the BAFTA.

And fine- fine, maybe you didn’t deserve it. Maybe your performance wasn’t of a standard that the Academy deemed high enough to reward. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sting - didn’t sting as you’d crossed your fingers, held your breath, hoped with every single fibre of your being that they’d call your name. When you’d heard his name instead, you’d kept your composure - slapped on a bright, forced smile for the cameras, and applauded, but you’re seething.

Maybe it’d be easier if you knew Tom Holland - maybe then you’d be able to feel happy for him, proud of a friend, even. Instead, you know nothing, beyond the fact that he’s probably a grade-a twat.

All you know of him is that he’d bad-mouthed you to your mutual friend Harrison, who’d let his scathing words slip when he’d taken you to a bar. Apparently, something about your demeanour irritates Tom - how he’d be able to pass judgement on you so quickly and effortlessly is beyond you. A few weeks after that, you’d felt no qualms voicing your thoughts on the third adaptation of Spider-Man, sharing an unpopular opinion that’d led to a chain of shady tweets from Tom’s account.

You’ve never met him, and you don’t need to in order to know that you won’t get along. This BAFTA snub is simply the last straw.

With a sigh, you throw back the final dredges of champagne and smack your lips together, humming as you look around the room in search of another glass. A sea of sequins and crisp suits meets your eyes, and you start walking over in the general direction of the bar, only to hear someone call after you.

“Oi, Y/N! Y/N Y/L/N!”

You startle, eyebrows shooting up your forehead as your lips curl into a disdainful frown.

“Oi?” You mutter, turning around to look at whoever has hollered your name so ungracefully. You can feel other people looking at you, and shamefully try to curl a little smaller. The embarrassment of being perceived by a crowd of such industry elites makes you bristle.

“Sorry.”

You see him, finally. Tom Holland, clutching that fucking BAFTA in his hand. He’s got his long brown hair slicked back, and he nervously stretches out his palm towards you.

You look at his hand, and then, feeling the weight of several inquisitive glances around you, you reluctantly shake it. Your hand is limp in his, and Tom squeezes your fingers firmly.

“Ow,” you mutter, pulling back your hand and shaking out your fingers. You look up at him, the frown on your face deepening. He’s quite cute, but you try not to focus on that. “You’ve got one hell of a handshake there, Tom.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m… Sort of all over the place tonight.” And he looks it, too. There’s a bright, wild energy burning in Tom’s eyes, and his gaze shifts all over you as he smiles awkwardly. “Just thought I should come and introduce myself,” he adds. His gaze pulls a little tighter, and he stands straighter, lengthening his back. “I don’t really want us to get off on the wrong foot. I saw some of the things you said about me, on, uh, Ellen, and... Yeah, I just wanted to clear the air. We’re both friends with Haz, so...”

You bite your tongue, pushing back the urge to snap at Tom. You’ve already starting off on the wrong foot, thanks to him, but you don’t want to be petty. Not on a night like this, with so many people watching.

“Okay,” you reply, voice a little shaky. You swallow dryly, your head feeling woozy from all the champagne. “I appreciate that, Tom. Thanks.”

“No worries.” Tom’s throwing his BAFTA between his hands, and when he catches you looking at it, he holds it out towards you. “You wanna touch it?” He offers, voice light. “It’s so cool, Y/N. I can’t believe it’s mine.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he thrusts the glass trophy into your hands. It’s warm to touch - you think Tom must’ve been gripping it ever since he was awarded it on stage. As you turn it over in your hands, your eyes prickle with irritated tears.

“It’s… very nice,” you manage, voice thick. Jealousy twists along with your dislike of the man. “Very… Nice.”

Tom just hums, seeming unaffected.

“I know,” Tom almost moans, eyes sparkling. He’s clearly bouncing on cloud nine. “It’s my big break,” he says, wistfully, “I can feel it. Did you know,” he drops his voice, leaning nearer, and the scent of his cologne makes you wince, “Emma Stone said she wants to work with me. All because of this.” He sighs, an unruly grin unfurling over his face as he stretches his arms above his head. “I can’t believe it.”

Your eye twitches, and the second Tom’s arms are back by his sides, you thrust the BAFTA back at him. You can’t bear holding it any longer, hating the weight of failure in your hands.

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly. You take a few steps back, looking around in search of a way out of this conversation. You can feel an immature remark building on the tip of your tongue, and you know you need to get away from Tom before you say something irreversible.

“Thanks.” Tom reaches out, his hands briefly making contact with your bare upper arm. His warm tickles your skin. “Sorry if I’m a bit crazy tonight, I’m running on so much adrenaline right now, I just can’t believe that I won-”

You see red.

“Really keeping it humble, aren’t you?” You snap.

Tom’s demeanour shifts and his eyebrows arch as he stands a little straighter. His lips curl into a frown, but then when he meets your eyes, his expression softens.

“Oh, oh,” he murmurs, watching as you cross your arms over your chest and blink back angry tears. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-”

“Yeah, you don’t seem to do a lot of thinking, do you, Tom?”

He pulls a face. “Wow, okay.” Tom laughs awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Whatever.” You bite your lip, shaking your head. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t like me, Tom. You can keep the pleasantries to yourself.”

He blinks a few times, clearly taken aback by the malice in your tone, but then his eyes cloud over. “I was just trying to be nice,” he quips, voice darker. “I don’t understand why you’re being so hostile towards me.” Tom’s eyes flicker across your face. “I don’t want us to be enemies, Y/N.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Whatever,” you murmur. You can feel the champagne twisting you, exacerbating your anger and your irritation, but as you stare at Tom, and his fucking BAFTA, all you feel is heated, rolling hatred. “Goodnight, Tom.”

He sets his lips into a hard line and doesn’t bother to respond before he turns and stalks away, pushing through the crowd. You frown as he walks away, your eyes narrowed into slits.

You were right: Tom Holland is a twat.

#these two :')#tom holland x reader #tfgblurbs #ethereal-beauty-p

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renee-writer · 5 years ago

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Sisters Chapter 18

They are assigned a house a block over from Oona's mama. It, as all the houses are built in this time, is six bedrooms. All sisters are expected to have at least five children, after all. Plenty of room after sharing a room with their children. They discuss placing Fallon and Adam in separate rooms but don't for two reasons.

"He would miss Fallon terribly. Oona says. They talk as she nurses him. They sit in their new living room. Their families have moved their furniture and personal belongs in. They just have to organize it.

"Yes. Besides if we have any Mothers come in, we need it to look like there is only one baby here."

"Good point." It is frustrated to her that she can't show off her son. Be a proud mama. Instead she has to deny his existence, hide him behind his sister, and dress him in neutral clothes. If she is pregnant, and they will find out in a week, it will get worse. If she has a daughter, she can be that proud mama but only to one. "I am so sorry, Adam my darling son. We do love you, as much as Fallon. Somehow, it will work out." He grunts as his tiny fists hold her breasts. Continuing to suck as Fallon bounces on his other mama's lap.

"It will work out somehow. We are due changes. Adam's existence proves that."

"Yes. I can't believe you are taken up the fight. To be stuck in an office."

"He is worth it. They are. We can't keep giving Oakley pills to prevent pregnancy. Or waiting with baited breath to see if our babies will be brought back to us."

"Agree. Tabitha, I am so scared of being pregnant. Terrified of his future." She looks down to see him off her breast and grinning up at her with a milky smile. "Oh God! I love him so much. I can't lose him."

"You won't. We won't. I promise you. We will find a way."

"He will be crawling, then walking, running. How are we to?" She lifts him up and presses him close. He squirms under his mama's tight grip.

"Oona," she sits Fallon on the blanket on the floor then moves Adam out of her tight grip and lays him beside her before pulling her into her arms. "My love, my baby. I know. I worry about the same things. All the time. I know my mama, yours, and your sisters do too. He has a circle of protection around him. A ton of people who would lay down their lives for his. That mean's something. A lot. It won't be easy and I see a lot of sleepless nights ahead, but between us we will keep him safe. We will handle whatever and whoever comes. Believe me?"

"I do or am trying to. What did I do to be blessed with you?"

Tabitha smiles and takes her lips. Heat raises until Fallon squeals out reminding them of her and her brother's presence. "Oops. Yes Miss Fallon what do you need?" She walks over to her and sniffs. "Oh I see. Come lovey. Let's get you cleaned up."

A week later, they have their house together. Four of the bedrooms stand empty. Oona is heading today to see if she is expecting a baby to fill one of those rooms.

"Oh man, I am so nervous." She places the green gown on with shaking fingers.

"I know. Me too. I would come with you if I could."

"I know baby. You have to stay here and see to our children. It will be okay. I haven't been sick. Maybe I am not pregnant."

"Maybe." She hugs her love and the babies and heads out.

She sits with Oakley. They hold tight to each other's hands. They are called back to separate rooms.

"Well Oona, you have another chance. As expected, you are pregnant. Congratulations." The words wash over her as her eyes fill with tears. "Oh. Don't weep. I know you mourn the lose of to community of your first sister/daughter but you have been given another chance to do your part."

"I am mourning the loss of my child. No other can take her place." She corrects. Recalling herself, and those she must protect, she quickly adds, "though I am thankful for this chance to do my part. Thank you."

She meets up with Oakley in the waiting room. "Are you with child, my sister?" She asks, both very aware of the listening ears.

"I am. Thanks be the Mother. Are you my sister?"

"No, put I place hope in the next cycle." They walk out together and Oakley hugs her once they are in the car.

"I am so sorry."

"Thank you. I am grateful you aren't. We will figure it out." She drops her off then heads home where she weeps in her lover's arms.

#my writing #my oc's #nano 2020 #sisters #day 18 #826

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years ago

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Amaryllis | Chapter 7

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >

+++

"Lady."

Sakura took a deep breath as she sank deeper into the steaming water. She idly flicked at one of the flower petals drifting along the surface. It was nice of the queen to provide her with a large selection of flowers and oils to accommodate her during her stay. The bath had always been her favorite place to relax and that hadn't changed. Lifting one foot out of the water, she wiggled her toes against the cool tile.

"Lady," she said again. The word slipped out of her mouth, dancing across her lips. She tested the weight of the word against her tongue. Raising one foot out of the water, she arched it before dangling it over the edge of the tub.

“What a silly word,” she decided before sliding down into the water to submerge herself completely.

Sometime later, there was a soft knock on the door. Moegi must’ve been busy, because Haku’s voice drifted through.

“A visitor for you, General.”

Sakura lifted her face out of the water. Droplets trickled down her chin and shoulders.

“A visitor?” she repeated. The awkward pause alerted her that it was someone other than Sasuke. The door opened a crack. Haku kept his eyes focused on the tiled floor.

“The Queen’s Physician,” he clarified in a whisper.

Sakura sighed.

“Go fetch refreshments. I’ll be right out,” she ordered, her hand splashing down into the water. Haku shut the door. The murmur of his voice barely drifted into the bathroom as he spoke to the guest.

Sakura rose. Water trickled noisily down her body. Landing in splashes back into the tub. Sakura wrapped her middle up in a towel and wrung her hair out.

“Do you always barge into your patients' private quarters?" sighed Sakura a few minutes later. She was wrapped up in a fluffy robe. Wet hair falling down the back. She paused in the doorway of the sitting room before she made her way to her bedroom, wet feet slapping against stone. Moegi ran after her to help her put on her slippers. Then Sakura joined Karin in the salon.

"Only for the ones that skip appointments. You were supposed to come see me yesterday," Karin cheerfully scolded her before she reached for her tea.

"I'm not… overly fond of hospitals," admitted Sakura with some hesitation. Karin sucked in her lower lip between her teeth as she scrutinized the other woman. And then she gave a knowing shake of her head.

"Sometimes I forget that you're a soldier," Karin declared. Sakura stared at her.

"Most soldiers don't have fond memories of hospitals. It's different from the nobles. For them, it's a luxury they can afford to like," the doctor explained with a smile that wasn't really a smile.

Karin was tall and thin with a cutting tongue. There tended to be sharpness to her words that bordered on being brusque. But Sakura also recognized that edge as efficiency. The brown rims of Karin's glasses framed her bright gaze and she had a habit of pushing them back up the bridge of her nose when she spoke. The most distinctive thing about Karin was her bright red hair- long and sleek on one side and in choppy layers on the other side. Sakura realized with some surprise that the only other person she had ever met with such red hair was Naruto's mother.

"You're making me blush with your staring, General," teased Karin. Sakura couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Well, as long as you're staring at me, how about you remove your robe and I'll take a look at your back," Karin continued. Her tone lost some of the teasing as she focused on her job.

Pulling the tie loose, Sakura shrugged the robe off her shoulders and turned to present her back to Karin. There was a long moment as Karin simply sat staring at the scar. She mumbled things to herself for a while before she reached out and pressed her thumbs along the sides of the healing gash.

“Does this hurt?” the doctor asked.

“A little.”

“Good. The nerves are working properly.”

"So, you have the entire court chattering about your tragic history. What's that all about?" queried Karin as she continued poking and prodding along the edges of the scar. Sakura kept her mouth pressed in a tight line. She gathered her robe in the front to cover her chest. She met Moegi’s eyes and mouthed the word ‘shirt’ to the girl. The attendant disappeared.

“If they’re already chattering, why bother asking me?” Sakura evaded the question.

“Rumors and vengeance feed nobility. I thought you, of all people, would know that. That’s why the oldest, nastiest ones never seem to die,” Karin remarked.

“…You’re no commoner,” Sakura observed.

“You’re smart, General,” the doctor stated so frankly that Sakura couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Alright, Doctor. Let’s just say that my problems begin and end with family. They do say that familial obligation is just another route to misery.”

"Oh, I understand. In-laws are the worst. Mine would have my head if not for Her Majesty’s protection," Karin cheerfully divulged.

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “Why would that be? You’re well-educated. You serve one of the most honorable positions in the queen’s service. Why on earth would anyone hate a successful woman- Oh.” Sakura stopped herself. She gave Karin a flat look. One the woman returned.

“People just hate to see a woman in power. It insults them, for some reason,” sighed Karin. With that, she took her hands off Sakura’s back and pulled her robe back up. She watched Sakura tie the robe shut with a sort of pensive expression before she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Her ring twinkled with the movement.

“So a physician, as well as a baroness. Congratulations,” Sakura finally put the pieces together.

Shisui wore the same ring.

Karin smiled. And then her eyes flickered to the door. “Oh. Looks like the tea is here.”

+++

Sunlight peeked into the halls of Whiteriver Keep through narrow windows. It was late in the morning and faint echoes of voices traveled from down the corridor somewhere. The stamp of boots bounced off the stone floors and walls. Hands at his sides, Sasori strode in the direction of the royal meeting chambers.

A letter had arrived in Plumeria a couple weeks ago. Sasori had struggled to quell the urge to toss it into the flames and pretend that the messenger had died at sea. A sneer curled his lips as he glanced around at the dim surroundings. Whoever had thought to build a home out of dark stone clearly had no sense of aesthetics.

“Tasteless,” he scoffed before he fixed his gaze back ahead. In the flickering light of the lanterns mounted on the walls, Sasori could see the heavy double doors. The guards on duty moved their spears. Until they realized who it was. They straightened their backs as they parted. They opened the doors for him, revealing a room with a large rectangular table. Seated at the head was the King Regent. He smiled, raising a hand in greeting.

“Ah, Admiral. So good of you to join us,” declared Minato without a hint of artifice. He was so transparent. Sasori put his right fist over his heart and bowed, his head inclining just enough the that no one would remark on his lack of manners. The starched fabric of his gloves creaked against the strain of his clenching fingers.

Around table sat the Crown’s advisors. There was Countess Inuzuka, the Minister of Defense, who nodded at Sasori as he took a seat at the table. Her son currently served as a Lieutenant General in the kingdom army. She was veteran of many wars herself. The scar on her left cheek was a reminder that not even a knife to the face could take her down.

Beside the Countess was Duke Hyuuga, who didn’t even acknowledge Sasori. He simply touched a strand of his silky hair. He descended from some of the oldest blood in the kingdom. His role as Minister of Finance meant that he oversaw the kingdom’s treasury, which had grown even larger after the war had ended. Sakura had made certain of that as she plundered the palaces of the late King Orochimaru.

Last was Marquess Shimura, who had served as the Regent’s Prime Minister for many years now. He only had one eye. But even that one eye was filled with malice as he stared at Sasori.

“You’re late, Admiral. A poor start to things. Especially given that you’re filling in for the General,” drawled Danzo.

Sasori leaned back in his seat. “Oh, I didn’t realize that I was late. I suppose it’s because I had to sail on the ocean. And then travel for days on horseback. Just to hear you nag me, Prime Minister,” he retorted.

Minato laughed. “Come now, Marquess. Don’t be so hard on the boy. He’s come a long way just for this meeting.”

Sasori bared his teeth at the word ‘boy’. “Thank you,” he replied.

The meeting was long and pointless. They reviewed points that Danzo had undoubtedly made decisions on before the meeting had even begun. Everyone knew that he was the man truly running the country. All the Regent did was sit there and nod.

“Now, there’s the matter of the southern border Your Grace,” Danzo moved on.

Sasori’s eyebrows rose. This was actually something that he had been thinking on not too long ago. His eyes met Tsume’s across the table. She just barely shook her head, as if urging him to stay quiet.

“The attacks from the warlords have become more frequent. Just last month, they assaulted several caravans of merchants traveling well within our borders,” Danzo read off a list in his hand.

“Have we continued to send them tribute as always?” Minato questioned.

“Yes, we have, Your Grace. Gold and precious jewels. The same as always,” Hiashi reported. He flipped through a few pages of his ledger. Which was purely for show. Everyone knew that the crafty old man knew every single transaction inside and out. The crown didn’t spend a single copper coin that the minister didn’t know about.

“I advise that we increase the amount. The instability in the area makes it possible that a new warlord has taken over these lands. That could be the cause of this violence against us,” Danzo said. The Regent considered this, rubbing his chin. He looked over at Tsume, who sat there, looking neither disinterested nor riveted.

“Countess, what are your recommendations as the Minister of Defense?” Minato inquired.

Tsume tapped her nail against the table. “I dare not touch the General’s troops without her permission. If Your Majesty commands, I will send a formal request to the General to have forces sent to the area. I’m certain she will reply favorably for the sake of the kingdom,” she replied.

Hiashi and Danzo glared at her. But Tsume simply smiled.

“It’s been many years since I’ve been an active member of the military, Admiral. Is this the protocol?” Tsume then questioned.

Eyes turned to Sasori.

“There certainly must be… order… when we work. The Regent would do well to heed Countess Inuzuka’s counsel,” was all Sasori said. He kept his mouth shut for the rest of the meeting. For fear that words would escape his mouth that he could never take back.

After all the agendas had been addressed, the Regent adjourned the meeting. Sasori escaped the dreary chambers as quickly as possible. He felt Tsume tap his shoulder with the back of her hand as he passed. He climbed the stairs- two at a time. And then he slipped through several side passages until he made his way to the outer walls that guarded the castle. Soldiers were familiar with the way here. Especially those that patrolled the area. It was cold enough here that people rarely came out for a pleasant stroll. And windy enough that the wind would carry secrets away.

Sasori stopped to take a deep breath and grimace. He shook his head a little, as if trying to rattle the memory of that meeting out of his skull.

A little ways down, he spotted a few people waiting for him in the shade of one of the castle’s towers.

Kiba straddled the wall, one leg brazenly swinging over the edge. Shino stood with his back to him, keeping a lookout, his lips folded in a tight line. Shikamaru was the last man standing with him, a yawn warping his mouth.

Sasori took several steps toward them. Kiba half-turned in his direction, greeting him with a smirk.

“It’s rare for you to come to Whiteriver, Admiral,” remarked Kiba.

Eyes narrowing, Sasori looked down at the moat and the long drawbridge laying across it.

“The Regent requested a council meeting,” he explained.

“It’s worrying that the Regent is calling his council in the General’s absence,” Shino observed. He rarely spoke. But when he did, he made his words count. He adjusted his tinted glasses on the high bridge of his nose.

"I highly doubt it was his doing,” Shikamaru retorted.

“You’re right. The Aristocratic Faction pushed him,” Sasori confirmed. Any fool could see that it was the nobles who were in charge of that meeting.

Their conversation paused as they watched a stooped man bound with bandages leave the confines of the castle. The way he tapped his cane against the stone gave him away immediately. Sasori's eyes narrowed.

"I trust Marquess Shimura least of all," Shikamaru added in a low voice.

The old man had been the Regent's closest advisor for years. The late queen had wisely kept Lord Danzo at a safe distance, including him only enough to keep from taking offense. It had been a wise decision. One that the regent was unable to see.

“The Marquess may be the one missing an eye but the Regent is the one that's blind," scoffed Sasori.

“Ah. Poetry. It wouldn’t be a talk with the Admiral without some prose,” Kiba remarked, chuckling at his own joke. Sasori glanced at him. Like he was considering whether or not to push him right off the rampart. But then his face smoothed out a little.

“Thank the goddess that your mother was at the meeting. She seems to be speaking some sense into that man,” Sasori informed them. He stopped talking then because he glowered down at the figures exiting the castle gates. The drawbridge drew back up with a slow, rattling groan. Only when the heavy iron gates slammed back down did Sasori get to his feet.

“The southern border,” Sasori suddenly said.

Shikamaru sighed. “The warlords?” he asked, touching his fingers to his temple.

“The Duke claims that the attacks are increasing his violence and frequency. He advised the Regent to send more money to pacify them,” Sasori reported. And then he glanced down at his hand, at the gold bangles on his wrist. He rattled them a little with a shake of his wrist to untangle them.

Kiba clucked his tongue. “Ever since the coup, that entire territory has been a madhouse. I don’t understand why we don’t just cross the border. We could subdue those warlords in… what do you say, Aburame? Three years?” Kiba turned to look at his fellow Lieutenant General.

Shino’s glasses glinted in the sunlight.

“Less. If the General leads the charge herself. Far less,” was all he said.

“It would be a bloodbath. On both sides. Just because they’re called warlords doesn’t mean that they’re barbarians. They were formerly vassals of the king of Wave Country,” Shikamaru reminded the both of them.

Kiba scoffed. “You call them vassals? They murdered the entire royal family. Now that place is just territories lumped together.”

“So are we. That’s what all kingdoms are,” Shikamaru answered.

Kiba’s smirk disappeared as he contemplated that.

“Count Yamanaka wasn’t at the meeting?” Shikamaru then asked, turning back to Sasori.

Sasori shook his head. “It was only the official council members.”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “He might as well be. He sticks his nose into everything these days.”

They were quiet for a moment. Surprisingly, Shino was the one to break the silence.

“The General is undoubtedly forging ties in the north. She will want to do the same in the south.”

Heads swiveled toward him.

“Are you suggesting that the General befriend these warlords?” laughed Kiba.

“No. Like Nara said, the warlords are just nobles without a king. They’ll have someone working for them. Likely hired swords,” Shino spelled out for them.

Shikamaru rubbed his chin. “Hm… we could buy out their contracts. Have them turn on their employers. And it would go against what the Regent and his council have decided.”

As Shino spoke, a smile appeared on Sasori’s face. It only widened when Shikamaru added on to the proposal. “Since when did you serve the Regent, Lieutenant Generals?” Sasori challenged. Three sets of eyes flew to him.

Kiba clenched his jaw. “Since never, Admiral,” he spat.

“Excellent,” declared Sasori. And then, with a nod, he took off from their meeting. The three men probably had a lot to discuss.

Sasori slipped back into the confines of the castle. He had spent enough time here to know his way around fairly well.

Sakura had spent a lot of time here as a child. Even though she had made an effort to go home to Plumeria during the colder weather, the leftover months were spent in this place- a damp stack of stones that always smelled vaguely of moisture and moss. Sasori had visited frequently, but he could imagine that it was a lonely place to be. Thankfully, his time at the military academy meant that he was right in the city. He snuck out on his free days to keep her company. Though the marketplace was nowhere near as exciting, and the ocean was far away, they had been together.

As Sasori mused over his memories, he didn't realize that his feet had found a familiar path. Only when he was standing outside of Sakura's room did he understand where he was. One of the servant girls walking past looked ready to ask him why he was skulking around here until another girl grabbed her by the arm and ushered her away. Most of the castle staff recognized him by now. And if not, the sword in his belt was usually message enough for them to leave him alone.

Sakura had left the castle in May. It was now the beginning of August. And as Sasori stood outside her door, he wondered why he half-expected her to poke her head out and sigh as she begged him to keep her from dying of boredom.

And on some stranger impulse, Sasori grasped the metal knob and twisted it. The heavy door creaked inwards. Sasori immediately smelled a mustiness that betrayed months of lazy cleaning. Or perhaps it had not even been cleaned at all. Clicking his tongue, Sasori peered inside. It was dark as all the curtains were drawn. But his first step into the room connected with something on the floor that clearly did not belong there.

Eyes widening, Sasori burst into the bedroom and strode across the floor to rip the curtains open. As sunlight streamed into the dusty room, Sasori struggled to take in all the details at once as the dust swirled around in lovely patterns.

The dresser was in disarray with all the drawers yanked out and resting in skewed angles. The armoire doors were flung open. The few clothes Sakura had left behind were strewn across the ground. Even the bookcase was completely upended. One corner was splintered, as if someone had smashed it out of frustration. The cushions and pillows were split down the middle and all the feathers yanked out. Desk drawers were lying on the floor, thrown and rifled through.

At the sound of Sasori's shout, the guards were quick to come.

"What is the point of having you fools on patrol in every damn hall if none of you are intelligent enough to notice this?" he snarled. Sasori was met with bewildered stares until he pointed into the room. There were gawks. One gave a garbled attempt at an excuse. The back of Sasori’s hand connected with his face, sending him sprawling. He lay cowering on the ground. Sasori very nearly spat on him. While these guards had received some training at the Academy, they were ultimately the Regent’s personal troops. He couldn’t really discipline them the way he would treat one of the kingdom’s soldiers.

“Get out of my sight,” Sasori hissed.

The one of the floor scrambled backwards on his hands and feet. His fellow guards grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him out of the doorway.

Sasori strode across the room. He ran his hands along the inside of Sakura’s gutted desk. He could feel gouge marks in the wood. And when his fingers found the hidden compartment, he let out a sigh of relief. The wood was splintered and marked there, too. As if the intruder had found it empty and taken out his frustrations on the desk again and again.

Still, he would have to write to her. To make certain that there had been nothing to steal from there.

+++

Far away, across the forests and up a mountain, Sakura woke drenched in sweat.

As she bolted up, she groped for a sword at her waist that wasn't there. Gasping for air, Sakura sat completely bewildered by her own panic for a moment before memories of her nightmare slammed into her. Shivering, she listened to the sounds of her own panicked gasps as she struggled to calm down.

But the dream had been so real. And the familiar sound of a sword whistling through the air rang in her ears. Staring into the darkness, she focused on the faint outline of her own legs twisted into the sheets until she could breathe normally again.

Sakura glanced over at the nightstand. At this time, she could call for Haku and Moegi to bring her a glass of wine to settle her nerves. But when Sakura tilted her head to look out the window, she could see the moon floating high in the sky. It was late. And it would be cruel to wake her two diligent attendants for such a trivial matter.

Sliding off the bed, she decided to take a walk instead. She had decided to go to bed early to get some rest and apparently the universe was conspiring against the very idea.

Sakura pulled her cloak over her nightgown. She strapped her dagger to her waist, just in case. And then she headed out into the cool night.

Fingertips trailing along the palace walls, Sakura followed the path she took during the day. It was completely quiet in the palace so there weren't many places she could go. The kitchen fires burned low, smoke barely rising from the tall chimneys. Even the guards seemed more at ease after a warm day had settled into a much cooler if slightly damp night. They still saluted at her as she passed, but their conversations murmured low and easy after her.

Sakura soon found herself at the entrance of the Queen's garden. The neat rows of hedges and the archway made of twisting vines were haunting in the dark. But it didn’t frighten her. It reminded Sakura of cool nights spent camping in the woods. Of course it was true that it could be dangerous out in the wilderness. But the soft swell of songbirds chirping out their evening songs as well as the cool wetness of grass under a tree were all things she could remember.

The guards on duty greeted her.

“Is everything alright, General? Do you need an escort?” one of them offered.

Sakura shook her head. “Thank you, but I just need to clear my head,” she assured them. They bowed before they stepped back on their usual patrol.

The stone path was illuminated by tall lanterns along with a scattered clumps of fireflies. Hands in her pockets, she followed the curving lines of flat rocks buried in the manicured grass. She wandered around and around, just letting the chorus of the insects fill the empty spaces in her head.

As she rounded one of the hedges, she spotted a light in the otherwise darkened windows of the castle. On instinct, Sakura took a step back. She didn’t know who would also be awake at such an hour. When she peered out past the roses, she recognized the face in the window.

Sakura stepped into the light of one of the lanterns. She raised her hand in greeting. It took several moments. She could tell when he recognized her because his hand pressed up against the window. She motioned for him to come down. He gave a furtive glance around. And then he held up a pointer finger before he disappeared.

She took a seat inside a wooden gazebo. It was flanked by two wooden posts driven into the ground. On top of them were glass boxes that served as lanterns. The little yellow flames glowed on bravely in the dark. Vines crept up the sides and top of the gazebo. But the flowers were closed, as if they were sleeping. It seemed like the whole world was sleeping so peacefully except for her.

Something connected with a stray pebble, sending it skittering noisily into other stones. Her head turned toward the sound. She smiled.

Well, for her and for one other person.

“I hope you didn’t run,” Sakura greeted him.

“The poor servants would find me passed out on the floor. I walked, General,” he replied. And then he added, “And you wouldn’t have been around to rescue me first.”

She laughed as he took a seat next to her. His heavy dressing gown brushed against the grass as he moved. His matching slippers peeked out from beneath the garment. They were both dark blue with silver stitching. It almost looked like the night sky.

“I know why I’m not sleeping. But why are you not sleeping?” Sakura asked.

“My medicine makes me drowsy during the day. I wonder why the physician doesn’t just give it to me at night,” Itachi sighed. And then she could feel him looking at her.

“You look troubled,” he observed in a softer voice.

“Do I? Are you observant or am I just a bad actress?" she wondered with a smile quirking her mouth. He didn’t seem to know how to answer her.

They both stared out at the nearby pond. Water lilies drifting on the still surface. The long branches of a willow tree skimmed the edges of the water. It took Sakura a moment to realize that there was no high-pitched buzzing that she had come to associate with bodies of water in this part of the world.

"There are no mosquitoes," she observed.

Only a few fireflies fluttered lazily about. And they were easily scattered with a sweep of her hand.

"The fish," Itachi said.

"Pardon?"

"There are fish in the pond. They eat all the eggs that the mosquitoes lay," clarified Itachi.

"Oh," she simply said. She hadn't actually expected an explanation. Fingers lacing together in her lap, Sakura leaned forward to look closer at the pond's shimmering waters. But it was late and it seemed even the fish were sleeping.

“I know why I’m not sleeping. But why are you not sleeping, General?” Itachi asked, turning her own words against her.

Sakura’s eyes widened. She laughed again. She found herself doing that a lot around him. Hands clasped, she gazed out at the water, following the lazy pattern of fireflies dancing in the dark.

“Bad dreams?” he guessed.

“… Dreams imply that they were never reality,” she replied.

“So they’re memories.”

Sakura closed her eyes. Clenched her hands together as she felt the sticky heat of blood dripping down her fingers, her wrists. When she opened her eyes, she found her hands dry and clean.

“Yes.” She exhaled long and hard.

“I don’t know if I’ll understand, General. But I can at least listen,” he offered.

Maybe it was the darkness. Or the cool stone. But it felt like maybe it would be alright to unload just a little of the memories swirling inside of her skull.

"We went to war a week after I graduated from the military academy. The General of the Armies at that time was a man named Hiruzen Sarutobi," Sakura began. Then, in a whispered afterthought, she added, "He was a great man.”

And then she smiled as she envisioned the hush that fell over everyone as Hiruzen entered the room. Everyone giving the General respect as he strode through. A simple nod from him felt the acknowledgement of the whole world.

“I was already a sergeant when the war began. The Regent’s ministers were hoping I would be killed quickly on the front lines. But I kept living. I still don’t understand why,” she recalled.

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew they were a lie. She lived because she was afraid of dying. She stabbed and slashed because she was terrified of how she would become nothing. A princess who failed to become a queen. A daughter who had failed her royal parents in every conceivable way.

When she looked over, it shouldn’t have surprised her that Itachi was watching her. Because she was speaking. And he was listening. It was the polite thing to do. So maybe it was the look in his eyes that startled her.

“I… no. I know why I didn’t die. It was because I was so good at killing,” she confessed.

“Leader after leader died. I became General. And I was very good at it. I ended the war in a year. And when I came home, I was a hero,” she recalled. Could hear the shrieks as entire towns burned. Hear the last choked gurgles on the lips of soldiers as life gushed out of their wounds. And the screams followed her everywhere she went. Like her feet should have left blood and not prints in the soil.

She hadn’t realized her hands were shaking until she felt Itachi grasp one. It was improper. She should have pulled away. But she didn’t want to.

“I did the right thing. Everyone was so proud. And I should be proud too…” Sakura trailed off. Looking down at their hands.

“So… the memories of your success are… nightmares now?” Itachi inferred.

It was odd. How he was able to organize such complicated thoughts into such a simple sentence. Sakura didn’t say anything. She held out her free hand. Watched a firefly buzz over it. It touched briefly against her palm. Then it took flight again, heading off in a dizzying pattern that it seemed to understand. She didn’t.

It was a while before either of them spoke.

“That’s… very sad,” commented Itachi. Sakura looked over at him as she waited for him to clarify.

He looked into her eyes as he said, “You sacrificed so much for your kingdom. And you can’t even be proud.”

Sakura pulled her hand from his, scoffing. “Proud,” she repeated. The word tasted like metal on her tongue. “For a murderer to take pride. How ridiculous.”

“It’s sad,” he said again. “You’re a hero. You saved your people. Even when they don’t understand how much you did for them.”

Her smile faded. He flinched just a little when she pinned him with a stare. But he didn’t look away.

“Do you understand, Prince?” she challenged.

“….No. I don’t. Because I’m not you,” he answered.

And that caught her off guard. Everyone claimed to understand. That was how they tried to comfort her. They presumed to know how she felt.

“You’re a hero,” he insisted.

“I’m a murderer.”

“You can be both. One does not take away from the other.”

She sneered. “You’re full of philosophy tonight, Prince. I detest philosophy.”

He didn’t sound insulted like he should have been. His smile was gentle. “Philosophy is all I have, General.”

The guards clanked passed by. They didn’t seem to notice the two of them tucked underneath the flowers and vines. Still, they fell silent until the shadows of the guards disappeared completely.

“I want to understand you better, General,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sakura let out a long sigh. She looked down at his hand resting on the bench. His fingers were delicate and long. The roughest thing that they had probably encountered were the pages of a book. She took it, raised it to her mouth, and placed a kiss on the back of it. When she placed it back down, she could see that it was shaking now.

She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. Glanced at him in the darkness. His eyes were enormous.

“Good night, Prince. Pleasant dreams,” she murmured. She got to her feet, gathering her cloak around herself. And then she headed back up the path towards the palace. A faint “good night” followed after her.

Sakura headed back up to her room and settled in bed. And though she was determined to stay awake for as long as possible to stave off the nightmares again, she opened her eyes to find that it was already morning. Pushing the curtains aside, she saw the clock tower in the distance to confirm the time. Before she even pulled the cord to summon them, Moegi and Haku were already there with breakfast and clean clothes.

"Did you sleep well, General?" asked Moegi with her usual cheer. Sakura considered this question for a moment before she answered.

“I suppose I did,” she replied with some amount of surprise.

As Sakura sat enjoying a cup of tea along with a piece of bread, there was a soft knock on the door. Moegi moved to the door. She cracked it open with caution. There was a high, feminine voice on the other side. As Moegi whispered to her, Haku placed Sakura's polished boots on the floor beside the bed. After a while, Moegi shut the door and reentered with an envelope in her hand.

Haku went to return Sakura’s plates to the kitchen while Moegi helped her dress. By now, Moegi had adjusted to helping Sakura with lapels and boot laces instead of petticoats and corset strings. She stood inserting cufflinks into Sakura’s sleeves while Sakura opened the envelope with her free hand.

It was from Naruto, inviting her to lunch. Just the two of them. Out on the terrace. Moegi peered at the message with curious eyes.

“What does it say, General?”

“Let Prince Naruto know that I will see him at noon for lunch,” Sakura said. She handed Moegi the envelope before pulling on her gloves.

Sakura didn't exactly know what prompted her to accept Naruto's invitation. Maybe someone from home had urged him to try again. If his father was a puppet, what was there to stop him from being used as one as well?

It wouldn't be the first time that he had tried to make plans that she rejected with no better reason other than she didn't feel like seeing him. But perhaps she was just in a more forgiving mood after a good night's rest. Pondering this, Sakura met Sasuke in the stables and they mounted their horses to dash off through the woods. Laughing and exchanging stories, they enjoyed the sweet smell of dew on the grass and trees.

The skies were clear and they certainly promised a pleasant day. However, just as Sakura exited the bathroom and stood dressing in her bedroom, she saw dark clouds gathering overhead. Rolling her eyes, Sakura still pulled on her shirt and pants. As she sat on the edge of the bed lacing up her boots, she listened to the soft tap of a few raindrops against the window.

"It seems like it's going to rain, General. Do you really think it wise to go on with your lunch plans?" asked Moegi. Haku held out Sakura’s dark green cloak. Sakura shook her head at both of them.

“What harm can a little rain do?” she said as she headed off to the terrace.

By the time Sakura was settled in the chair across from Naruto, the few drops of rain had turned into a downpour.

"Well," she simply said as she watched the fat droplets of water splash off the stone. Fortunately, they were shielded by one of the balconies on the second story. Naruto grinned in a pained sort of way.

"Nothing I ever plan ever goes right," he said only half-jokingly. Sakura's expression softened. Self-deprecation didn't suit him.

"I know," answered Sakura. Naruto's head immediately swiveled around to look at her. She kept her gaze fixated on the rain beating down on the grass.

"At least you try," she said.

Sakura could feel Naruto staring at her but she let the moment slide by.

“Should we… leave?” he wondered.

Sakura unfolded her napkin with a snap. Draped it across her lap. When she moved, so did the waiting servants. They began setting out the food and tea.

“I don’t see why not. Has the rain stolen your appetite?” she asked.

Naruto gaped at her. And then he scrambled to find his own napkin. Found it was already tucked into his collar. “N-no! Let’s eat!” he exclaimed, his face so bright that it almost hurt to look at.

When they fell silent again, Naruto squirmed. She could tell that he wasn’t used to silent meals. His parents doted on him. Encouraged him to share about his day without end. Perhaps she would have been that way if her parents were still alive too.

“Um.”

“Yes?” she asked. His face promptly turned the color of a tomato. He stole a glance at her.

“Your uniform…. you’re always wearing it when I see you. Even when you’re not on duty.”

“Hm. Does it not suit me?” she pretended not to understand. She sliced into the pheasant. Steam curled into the humid air.

“No! I just… do you ever get to rest? I’ve seen other officers out of uniform. But… not you, really.”

Sakura arched an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected an observation like that from what she considered her most dense cousin. She took a sip of her tea as she tried to decide how honest to be with him.

Naruto ate, staring down at his plate.

“I don’t have the luxury of free time,” she finally said. Naruto’s chin jerked up. His eyes widened. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning either.

“The second I let my guard down, there are people who will swoop in to steal everything from me. Not that I have much left,” she elaborated.

Naruto’s eyes drifted back down to his food. He had severed the breastbone from the bird. Bits of meat clung to the blackened bone.

“You’re smart, you’re pretty, you work really hard. Why would someone try to steal from you?” he wondered. “Is there anything that can be done to stop that?” he then asked. The directness of his question startled her. In a way, she admired that naive belief. That good people deserved good, that bad people should be stopped. That there was always a solution for everything. It was almost endearing.

“That would be nice if there was. Let me know if you ever come up with an answer to that question,” she replied. And then, for a moment, she smiled at him. Like when they were children.

Naruto smiled too.

+++

My Dearest Sakura,

I hope this letter finds you in high spirits. I write this in my room on the night of your parents' memorial service. It was a lovely affair, I assure you. Classy and respectful with just a hint of that sadness that you would have brought had you been present. Count Hatake and Count Maito both attended to pay their respects. I have informed them of the details of your stay at Goliaf. Sasori stayed for the event but departed shortly after dinner. He mentioned something about a royal summons, which concerns me quite a bit.

Now, I am aware that each year, on this anniversary, I am waxing poetic about my beautiful memories of your parents. And who am I to break such a tradition? I hope that the following words will be of some comfort to you.

Your mother was always my hero and my closest friend. I do feel somewhat sorry for my late husband, as he was an affectionate and loyal man. And that is not to say that I did not love him. I loved him deeply. But my sister there first. And most importantly, she was my queen. Seeing you grow more and more each year has always been the greatest pleasure to me as you have always reminded me of her. However, as of late, I feel that you are even surpassing her in many of the things that she already did so well.

Take care of yourself, Sakura, I know that you will be able to overcome any obstacle with wisdom and with composure.You are strong. The blood of our family runs deepest in you. It will not fail you.

It is difficult to believe that it will very likely be August by the time this correspondence reaches you. We, at home, all eagerly await the day of your return.

Lovingly,

Your Aunt Kurenai

After receiving the letter from her aunt, Sakura sat in her chair for a long time before she could decide what to do. She penned a response to Kurenai’s words of comfort. She thanked her aunt for all of her guidance and love. She added a few jokes to put the older woman at ease that all was well with her.

Sakura was still careful not to write anything that could be used against her in the event that the letter was intercepted. She mentioned her homesickness. Then her hand paused. She decided against adding anything else.

She signed her name in looping letters. She folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope. She heated the stick of red wax she always left with her stationary. As the wax warmed, it dripped onto the envelope flap. Sakura waited, fingers tapping. When the wax began to cool, she exhaled over the surface of her ring and stamped the symbol of the rose into the seal.

The chair creaked when Sakura leaned back. She glanced outside again. The sky was still grey, but it had stopped raining for the first time in days. It would be easier to summon one of her attendants to send the letter. Perhaps Haku. It seemed like her letters went out a little more quickly when she entrusted them to the boy. Moegi was likely busier with kitchen duties, and waited until the end of the day to send them.

But then again, she could use the fresh air. And walking would be a better distraction than simply sitting in her room.

The palace was quiet. Most of the men had left on a hunting trip with Prince Sasuke and the king early that morning. Of course, they had extended an invitation to Saura as well. But she had politely declined.

"I don't believe in hunting for sport," she had explained. Just the thought of watching dogs rip a wild fox apart while the nobles chugged wine and made crass jokes made her feel sick. Sasuke, who had grown up on the sport, seemed to have trouble understanding. Still, he respected her decision and instead promised to have dinner with her upon his return. He had boasted promises of venison for dinner. Sakura admired his optimism but doubted that would be on the menu that evening.

So with the castle largely emptied, Sakura was able to walk the big halls in solitude.

One of the messengers she had employed sat gossiping in the stables. Where he usually was. He sprang to his feet when she approached. As did all the stable boys. She was a familiar face by now.

“This one needs to reach Plumeria. Are you available?” Sakura asked, holding up the envelope.

The messenger accepted it with both hands. “Of course, General. I’ll ready my things right away,” he replied. And he was off before she had to say anything else. He was the third son of some minor noble. Destined for nothingness. This sort of job was a rare opportunity for him to make money and to meet many different people. It was no wonder he took it so seriously.

Sakura lingered for a little while longer. But on her way back inside, she spotted the pergola. It was a shaded walkway that linked the queen’s gardens to her even-more-treasured greenhouses. On top of the lattice grew wisteria that blocked the sunlight from reaching the delicate skin of nobles who preferred to remain as pale as possible.

And under the shade of the pergola, she noticed a foot peeking out. She decided to take a detour. As she approached, she recognized Itachi sitting in the shade with a book in his lap.

“Feeling well today?” she asked as she stepped across the stone toward him.

Itachi jolted.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted her. His cheeks slowly colored. That didn’t surprise her. Given how their last encounter had ended. She leaned against the outside beam, waiting for him to speak. It took several seconds. But Itachi finally managed to find the words.

“I’m happy to see you, General.”

“Sakura,” she corrected him once again.

He chuckled. “Alright. Sakura. Actually, I’ve wanted to ask you something about my reading.” He indicated the open space on the other side of the bench.

“Of course,” she said as she moved into the shade to sit.

"Where is your family originally from? All the books just say that your family has ruled over the Southern Tea Isle for so long that your origins rarely come into question," he queried. To prove his point, he opened up the book to a certain page and pointed to the passage. But Sakura didn't need to read to know that he was right. The origins of the Haruno family weren't even known that well by the people of the Forest Kingdom.

Sakura crossed one leg over the other, one elbow on her leg.

"Well, we actually came from the desert. There's a vast, dry land that we call the Land of Wind. It lies across the ocean. It's much different there. There are cities ruled by princes, but no kings. My ancestors crossed over first on their camels and then on their ships for months in order to reach the isle," explained Sakura.

Itachi's eyebrows rose.

"Your family was originally from The Wastes? I always thought that they were known for their dark skin and curly hair," he said. Sakura could almost see him rustling through the pages inside his head.

The corner of Sakura's mouth lifted.

"Is that what they call it here? The Wastes?" she repeated with a hint of wonder. “I like it.”

Many years ago, when Sasori had just turned 12, he received his first boat from his mother. For its maiden voyage he, along with Sakura and a few others, had journeyed across the Great Salt Ocean to visit their ancestral lands.

Sakura, barely 9 at the time, had wondered at the endless expanse of blue that surrounded them. Sasori followed the crew around, observing their work and posing the occasional question. At night, they shared a cabin. And Sakura would always crawl down from her top bunk to curl up in the blankets with her cousin. Foreheads pressed together, they whispered their secrets and listened to the creak of the wooden ship over the water.

After nearly two months of travel, they arrived a port city, where a guide had been arranged to wait for them. But they found no one. Even after two days of asking around, no one could direct them to any such man. So, mounting their camels, they headed out in the direction of their uncle’s palace in the desert.

At first, the Arids did not seem so bad.

The Arids, as local people referred to the desert, was indescribably dry. Just one gust of the hot wind was enough to suck the moisture straight off the tongue. Initially, just the heat of the sun beating down on them was difficult. But they covered their heads and they had filled up plenty of waterskins in town. The party exchanged stories as it crossed tall dunes of sand. By lunchtime, the city had long ceased to be visible in the distance and sweat poured down the back of Sakura's neck. There was no place to take shelter from the unforgiving sun. Not even a rock.

Late into the afternoon, a wall of rock appeared to the north. Lost, and with nothing else to follow, they urged their weary camels in that direction. There were no stories being told now. They were too tired to form more than a few words at a time.

The sandstorm whipped up so suddenly that they didn't even notice until they were trapped in a chaotic whirl of stinging sand and hot wind. Coughing and tearing, everyone struggled to cover their faces. The panicked camels groaned and heaved their passengers off as they too sought shelter. Tumbling into the burning sand, Sakura retched against the dry powder clogging her mouth and nose.

Just when she felt like she might die in the desert, a hand closed around her wrist. In fact, several hands pulled her to her feet, hauling her over the shifting sands. A touch of cool water on her lips pulled Sakura back from the haze. Coughing and tearing, she gulped down the drink. As soon as she could gulp down clean air, Sakura succumbed to unconsciousness.

A little while later, Sakura found herself resurfacing. And the first thing she noticed were soft voices.

"Here we are. I guess these are our visitors," a man's voice declared above her.

“I’ll have that drunkard’s head. Leaving these young ones on their own,” a woman remarked.

"I can't tell which is which," another complained. Sakura grumbled as she felt something cold and wet against the top of her head.

"Ah. I see pink. This is the little princess," the first voice stated.

"Then this one must be Princess Chiyo's other grandchild," the second guessed.

"He's tall for his age. Isn't he about the same age as your first son?"

"I believe so."

The quiet conversation was interrupted by Sakura's sudden coughing fit. Someone lifted more water to Sakura's lips. She drank, water dribbling down her chin in her blind haste. There was a chuckle.

"Looks like she'll be just fine. Have the men gathered all of the camel?"

"Yuura just brought them in. He says that they didn't seem to have lost any of their cargo. Looks like the little ones know their knots."

Curiosity triumphed over weariness. Sakura cracked her eyes open to see the vague shapes of the two men chatting amiably. Still squinting, she inched her hand over until her fingers made contact with Sasori's skin. After a moment, his hand flipped over and gently closed around hers. He was awake too. They lay listening for a while until Sasori stirred a little before he slowly sat up.

"Hello, Uncle," he said in a scratchy sigh.

The Haruno family, though descended from their distant desert kin, had also made it a habit to periodically remarry back into them. Sasori and Sakura's maternal grandmother, for example, had been the youngest daughter of a prince. And Sasori's father, though not particularly high on the social hierarchy, had been a lord's son who had traveled from the Arids to Plumeria as a scholar.

Technically, most men in the Haruno lands could be called "Uncle". And that was precisely what was done.

Sakura and Sasori had spent many months there with their desert cousins. Their Great-Uncle owned a palace located in an oasis. And despite the barren landscape, there was always an abundance of meats and fruits to feast on. They immersed themselves in the culture of their ancestors, marveling at the similarities and the differences from their own traditions. And while they enjoyed themselves, at night, breathing in the cold, fresh air, they both longed for the perfume of flowers outside their bedroom windows.

When they returned home a year later, laden with gifts from their relatives, the first thing Sakura did was dive off the side of the ship and into the bay. The crew laughed at what they assumed were the young lady's antics, but Sasori understood. He dove in after her, reveling in the cool abundance of water. There was water everywhere. And greenery exploded in every area. Bright flowers spread their fragrant petals toward the sun. And the smells of food cooking in the market all mixed with the saltwater to create a smell that could only be described as "home".

Whenever Sakura thought back to her six months in the Arids, she couldn't even begin to put into words her relief at standing on the ship's bow and watching as the beloved palms of her homeland rose up from the horizon.

As she recounted this journey to Itachi, Sakura felt a pang of sudden and intense longing for her home. It must have shown in her expression because she suddenly heard Itachi put his book down. The bench creaked faintly as he scooted over to sit closer to her. Together they stared out into the garden. When Sakura brushed her fingers against Itachi's, he turned pink and cleared his throat needlessly again. But neither of them seemed willing to move their hands away.

“I’d love to see that someday.”

“I’d love to show it to you.”

+++

"Sasori."

Sasori bolted upright. His head whipped around. Instead of the wooden panels of his cabin in his ship, Sasori found smooth white walls. The rich fragrance of rugosa roses assaulted his senses.

"What are you doing?" Kankuro demanded. He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms folded over his chest. Kankuro was perpetually some shade of sun-kissed bronze. If he wasn't in the palace shadowing his father, he was out on the beach enjoying the sun and the waves. His headscarf was a muted shade of light green today. It wrapped around his short brown hair at an angle, tying to his right with the loose ends brushing his shoulder. In his half-sleeping daze, Sasori idly realized that the color of the fabric was remarkably close to the color of Sakura's eyes.

And then, it occurred to Sasori that the reason this room felt so familiar was that it was Sakura's.

He looked down. He was lying on a soft feather bed. The soft tassels of the throw blanket under him conjured old memories. Rubbing at his eyes, he twisted to look behind him, half-expecting Sakura to be curled up on the mattress beside him like she always was whenever they fell asleep after talking long into the night.

"You must have been completely drunk last night to wander in here. I didn't even know you were back until Temari saw your ship this morning at the docks. And then the guards said you were here,” commented Kankuro as he moved his fists to his hips.

"Why am I in Sakura's room?" wondered Sasori with a groan as he squinted at the sunlight. Kankuro rolled his eyes. There was a layer of black kohl around them. Kankuro claimed that it was originally to help protect his eyes from the desert sand. Temari whispered that it was to make him feel pretty. But all that mattered in that moment was that if Kankuro was up and dressed, then that meant that it was late in the morning.

"That's what I was wondering. Do you remember? Ah, whatever. Get cleaned up and come eat," sighed Kankuro before he left.

And as Sasori sat trying to make sense of his disheveled state, he heard his pocket crinkle. Scowling, he reached into his breast pocket to find a crumpled letter. As he read it over, he suddenly remembered what had prompted him to head straight for a pub to celebrate with his crew.

I’m coming home as soon as the season is over.

Sasori washed up and changed into clean clothes before he headed to meet his cousins.

Gaara, who just returned from a week-long inspection of the island, looked exhausted. Still, he smiled at Sasori and pushed an empty cup over to him. A servant stepped forward to fill it with tea. And then, she gave Gaara a pitying look as she filled his cup as well. He nodded his thanks.

Gaara took his trips to inspect the island very seriously. He scrutinized the various crops and products that the island used to generate income. He asked people about their working conditions and offered help whenever he could. His patience and gentle nature made it easy for others to open up to him. Somehow, he seemed genuinely confused when his siblings joked about his popularity.

“So that buffoon Count Maito was back yesterday," Kankuro announced with glee as soon as Sasori settled in his place at the round table.

Count Maito was one of the two lords who oversaw the island. He had taken an arrow for Sakura when she was just a baby. To show her gratitude, the late Queen had elevated him to the rank of Count, which had caused an uproar in the Queen’s Council on the mainland. After all, Gai was just an islander.

“He’s the last direct son of the island’s chieftains. I’d say that’s noble blood,” Tsunade had replied to the criticism.

“Please, Your Majesty. I beg you to reconsider,” Marquess Shimura had pleaded.

And Tsunade, lowering her spectacles had said: “You may beg. But I am in charge. Not you, Marquess.”

It was a story that all of them wheedled Kurenai to retell every once in a while. It was one of Sakura’s favorite stories about her mother.

Across the table, Sasori outright rolled his eyes. He grabbed a banana and began peeling the soft skin away.

"What does he want this time?" Temari sighed when no one else asked.

“He just wanted to bring the first crop of guava for us to taste. But that man is so…” Kankuro searched for the right word.

Gaara made a very serious face as he tried to think of a word to help his brother. “Irritating,” he supplied as he looked up at them.

His siblings burst into laughter at the grave expression on his face.

“Am I wrong?” Gaara wondered. That only made them laugh louder. Sasori chuckled too, despite the headache pounding at his temples.

Sasori looked down at the banana after he took a bite. It was sweet. It almost tasted like a berry.

“These are excellent. Did Count Maito bring these too?” he queried.

Temari picked up a banana too. Shaking her head, she gestured to her youngest brother with it. “Gaara brought it back from the Caldera.”

The Caldera was the second biggest city on the island. It sat to the north, inside the depression left behind by a volcano that had once spewed fire and boiling stone. It had been centuries since the volcano had woken, but the islanders refused to step foot on that land. The memory of the molten destruction lived on in the stories they passed down from parent to child. Instead, it had become a city for the people who had come to the island from afar. There were those who had left the mainland to escape the cold weather. Others had come from across the Great Salt Ocean from distant nations to the east.

The Hatake family had been good stewards of the land for three generations now. The young Count Hatake had taken over for his late father about six years ago. According to the people who farmed the hills under him, the young Count Hatake was reclusive but fair. He never showed his bare face in public, which had initially generated some strange rumors. Now, everyone accepted it as a small quirk in an otherwise good lord.

“Count Maito’s son is still searching for a wife, apparently. Many of the young ladies from the mainland have turned their nose up at him,” Temari then shared.

"Can you imagine that?" drawled Sasori in response.

“Is it his face?” Temari conjectured, earning a roaring laugh from Kankuro. Gaara looked like he might laugh until he caught Sasori’s look of disgust.

“No. It’s a question of pedigree. They don’t believe him to be of real noble stock,” Sasori replied.

“His family has a title and land. What more do these women want?” Temari scoffed.

“Maybe the sons of noble families have penises that curve in a different direction,” Kankuro joked, earning three dirty looks and one kick under the table.

"I'd punch you, cousin. But I'm still too hungover to bother," sighed Sasori as he stabbed idly at his breakfast with his fork.

“Speaking of marriage, when will you finally allow Lady Sakura to marry? There must be no shortage of suitors lining up to have her hand,” Kankuro teased.

“She doesn’t seem all that interested in marrying anyone right now. There’s no need to push her,” protested Temari while wrinkling her nose, “She's like me."

Kankuro chortled.

"The main difference there is that Lady Sakura is lovely and you're more on the behemoth end of the spectrum," Kankuro answered. Gaara and Sasori moved to grab their teacups before Temari pounced, knocking the table over. As Temari attempted to throttle one of their brother, Gaara calmly took another sip of his tea.

"Should I ask her then?" Sasori inquired as he glanced at Gaara. After some thought, Gaara raised and lowered his thin shoulders in a shrug.

"Lady Sakura once said that part of being a wise leader is to know the value of not taking sides in pointless arguments," Gaara slowly responded. Sasori cracked a smile.

"She was referring to something like this I suppose," Sasori said. They dodged as Kankuro’s foot flailed past them.

Sasori lifted his teacup to his mouth. Then lowered it. “Oh, don’t scratch the floor, Cousin. It’ll leave a mark.”

+++

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >

#itasaku #courtly intrigue! au #fanfiction #writing #haruno sakura #amaryllis

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critical-derolo · 6 years ago

Text

critical drabbles 6

"I can't wait to be in love!"

Marion hums in her melodic, interested way as she weaves pink ribbons in her daughter's hair. It's been a long day and an even longer week but she'd bear the burden of working a thousand hours if it meant spending one minute with Jester. Her Little Sapphire. "Is that so?"

Jester bounces in the seat, forcing Marion to dodge an errant horn, and brightens. "Yes! I am going to fall in love with the most handsome, dashing, bravest man there ever was! Like one of my stories."

"That's certainly exciting." Marion flicks one of the braids to the side and begins working on the next. "He must be pretty special if he's worthy of your love, my darling."

The little tiefling considers this and nods, her brows tugging together as she taps her chin. "Oh, he's really, really special. He's strong, and smart, and kind, and funny, and good!"

"I can't wait to meet him, Jester."

Neither can I, Jester thinks. Her heart aches, a little voice in the back of her head wondering how she will ever meet him when she's cooped up in her room all day. Every day. How she will ever find the love that fills her books when books are all she has.

He's strong.

Strength is a funny thing, Jester finds. She's strong, and Yasha is strong, and the Gnolls are strong. Giants are strong. Bandits can be strong. Manticores are strong. But when they're hit, they go down. And when they go down, they stay down.

Not her and Yasha. At least, not for very long. Not until Beau is skidding through the dirt, one hand clutching a healing potion and the other holding the nasty wound on her side. She pours the potion down Jester's throat, holding her close as the tiefling coughs and sputters. As magic stitches torn tissue back together and consciousness comes crashing in like a chilly ocean wave.

Dizzy purple eyes roam the sky, locking onto the familiar face of her party's monk staring down at her with no small amount of relief. Sweat gathered across her dark skin with dirt and grime, her lip split and smile bloody. "Up and at 'em," she grunts and pushes up from her knees, standing on unsteady feet. "We're not done yet."

Jester says - well, nothing. Her throat is dry, the gashes across her chest still healing, magic gathering at her fingertips. She reaches for Beau's side, where her vestments are stained a painful red...

But she's gone again, scooping up her staff and kicking off Yasha's knee, bringing it down across the monster's face. Always moving. Always fighting. Never stopping and never giving in.

Jester is strong, she could punch a man through a wall, and Yasha could snap an eldritch horror in half...

But Beau's strength is different, it's not something that can be touched. It doesn't come from muscle or a fist, it's in the set of her jaw, the steel of her eyes.

Beau is strong.

He's smart.

Schemes are fun and Jester has always had a special talent when it comes to them. Tricky and detailed, or simply flashy and surface, she's managed to pull most off brilliantly. And when Jester met Nott, it was like meeting her other half. Nott is clever.

Clever and smart are two different things but these things can go hand-in-hand beautifully. They're aspects that Jester looks for in most people she meets, they might even be the most important. At least the hooks, the things that sink in and capture her attention, that have her digging for more.

"Beauregard."

The lantern above the table sways in time with the rocking of the boat, wood creaking precariously around them. Jester cracks an eye open from her dark corner of the room, glancing at the table by the door where her friends sit while the others try to sleep.

Caleb leans over the table, elbows propped up in the corners to hold his red, fuzzy chin. His eyes stare hard at the makeshift chess board that Yasha had spent almost a week carving out for the crew. Frumpkin flops onto his side on the table, batting at a fallen pawn. Across from the human, Beau lounges back in her own seat with her legs hooked off the corner of the table. She flips the page of Avantika's journal, twirling a pencil in her fingers while she hums distractedly.

Jester eyes the way shadows creep across Beau's face, how the light of the lantern catches the blue of her eyes like astonishingly clear crystals against her dark skin. Her heart thuds awkwardly in her chest.

"Beauregard," Caleb says quietly again. Intently. He looks up from the pieces to meet her curious gaze. "How. You've got my queen. Beauregard, you didn't even know what the rook was called. How did you capture my queen?!"

A brown shoulder lifts and falls with disinterest. "I don't know, man. Monks love this game and I love fucking with monks, so I memorized all their tactics. You're doing the Pit Fall Trap and a Switchy Switch beats that."

"What?"

Beau grins and closes the journal, sets it on the table to lean forward into the light. "You went here and then there on your first moves, and you keep eyeing this nipple looking piece here. I knew you were gonna do the Pit Fall Trap."

His lips twitch. Caleb runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. "You've memorized chess moves? You don't know what day of the week it is but you've memorized complex chess tactics to... to spite the other monks?"

"Yup."

"You're never what I think you are, Beauregard. I think I'm off to bed. Congratulations."

He stands and hesitates awkwardly before patting her shoulder, dragging his feet to one of the bunks across from Jester. Frumpkin follows moments later, curling up on the edge.

Exhaustion creeps up after a while, it has Jester's eyes drooping, and Beau's profile getting fuzzier and fuzzier. The creaking of the wood and the flipping of journal pages eventually lull Jester back to sleep, but she has one final thought before the dreams consume her.

Beau is clever.

He's kind.

It's a surreal experience, seeing Beau so open and honest. She would pick a storm as the setting to come find Jester, to lay bare a vulnerability in an effort to comfort Jester. And the tiefling is touched, watching Beau fidget and glance off to the choppy waters. Telling her about a lonely childhood, reassuring Jester against her worries.

Worries that have been plaguing her since she, Fjord, and Yasha were tossed in the cages in the back of the Iron Shepards' wagon.

When those blue eyes meet hers again, gentle and compassionate, a sincere smile on her lips before she departs...

Jester staggers forward to throw her arms around the monk, to squeeze her tightly and feel the beat of her own heart echoing in time with pesky thoughts. Thoughts that have no place here and now, thoughts that will remain buried until they're off the water, at least.

She's so distracted by the pulse she can feel in her fingertips that when she tells Beau she loves her, she almost misses the reciprocation. Almost.

But Beau's rough voice rattles around in her chest long after she's gone below deck, and the warmth of their conversation is a protective layer against the cold barrage of the storm around her.

Beau... Beau is kind.

He's funny.

It's more sweet than funny but it's also pretty funny, and Jester's face hurts from smiling so much. She burns the image in her mind to draw later, her fingers twitching for her pencils, and she hates that there's no time to just sit down and sketch.

She doen't want to miss a single detail, and she's never been so thankful that Beau has no magical means of disguise.

Magic would have stolen this moment from her.

Caduceus and Beau distract the guards with an animated tale. Despite not having the silver tongue that Fjord does, they do pretty well. Beau holds the belt of her pants high up enough to cover her chest, leaning forward to scowl at the friendly guards with one eye squinted nearly closed. The overly large moustache on her lip twitches, tipping Cad's enormous sunhat down in what, maybe, could have been considered intimidating if it didn't look so ridiculous.

Eventually, the guards do move on. A fist is shook at them and they seem more concerned with distancing themselves from the crazy wackadoo than wondering just what the two of them are doing lingering around the edge of the city.

The second the guards turn the corner of the wall, Jester, Fjord, and Nott drop from their perch with bags full of supplies. Something crunches and Jester freezes, praying to the Traveler that she didn't crush her own bag. They could probably make due with just Fjord and Nott's but it's always better to have too much than too little.

Beau sucks on her teeth, jerking her chin up with a charming smirk, and offers a hand. "'Scuse me, little miss," she murmurs in her best impression of Fjord's accent. Jester snorts. "Seems you might need a hand."

"Oh, why, thank you!" Jester gasps and grabs hold. She giggles, hoisted to her feet, and presses a hand to her chest when Beau swings the bag over her own shoulder. "You look so silly!"

"Are you sure you don't mean dashing?"

Delight has her tail swishing. "Of course, excuse me. Dashing and roguish."

"Even more than Nott?"

"Well, Nott is a pretty excellent rogue..." Jester says with a considering hum. "Distinguished?"

"I'll take it," Beau agrees with a grin. She hooks her arm with Jester's and the two follow the others through the trees like some sort of clichè moustachio's bandit. All she needs is a mask. Every once in a while, Jester is caught staring, and a wink is flashed at her.

He's good.

Beau had volunteered to take the last watch. She usually does and most everyone is more than willing to let her take it - last watch is the worst. Alone, watching the sun rise, knowing you won't get to sleep afterwards because the day has begun but it also began for you four hours ago.

Whoever takes last watch often has the longest day and sometimes long days suck.

But Beau always offers.

The sky is a dark blue but no longer black when Jester stirs, her eyes falling open. Stars are still sprinkled above her but their light is fading as the horizon gets brighter. She turns her head, looking around the bubble and swallows her heart when she can't find Beau.

She doesn't even think to wake the others - already stumbling out of the bubble, dirt and grass against her knees and palms and - oh. Okay. Thank the Traveler.

Beau sits a little ways away in the field. Her back is straight, in a way that seems almost painful to Jester, with her legs crosses in what maybe she called some kind of lotus once when Yasha had asked.

Everyone knows that Beau is a monk, they see the blue and they see her fight and she mentions it to outsiders sometimes - she uses it to get information or access when all else fails. She even looks like a monk, sometimes, usually, maybe, or maybe they're just aware she is. Maybe perception is a tricky thing. But Jester's never been struck with it.

Not like now.

The blue of her vestments glitter in what little light cracks across the sky, the flowing script of her sash so official. Her staff is impaled into the ground within reach, a strip of purple woven at the end - a little piece of Molly in each of her strikes. The ribbons of her hand wraps, of the tie that holds her hair back in a bun, they flit and dance with the gentle breeze of the morning air.

It's just Beau but she feels... different, like this. She feels more like A Monk Of The Cobalt Soul and less like the hothead who punches ghosts and drags Caleb off the battleground to gather himself.

"How long are you going to stand there watching me?" she asks gently.

Jester blinks and smiles but doesn't approach. She knows how hard it is for Beau to meditate and she's not totally sure if that's what Beau is doing but she doesn't want to ruin it on the off chance. "Why did you come with us?" she blurts instead.

It wasn't a question she was ever going to ask. It's one she wonders a lot, usually in moments like these. When Beau is Beau but also Beauregard, when Jester catches glimpses of a vastly different life meant for the monk.

"You asked me to."

Which... well, it's true. Fjord and Jester had been stumbling through a city neither had ever been to, lost and overwhelmed and not totally trusting each other yet. Jester has always been an optimist and sometimes a little naive- she's aware of herself, how could she not be? But she's not blind, not ignorant to the dangers of a girl travelling alone with a strange man who has even stranger and probably darker magic when she thinks about it.

When she met Beau there was a snap - like a rubber band in her chest that flung out and wrapped around this angry, violent girl. An angry, violent girl with gentle eyes that didn't think twice when a perfect stranger, a tiefling -momma warned her about the looks, the whispers, the prejudice- asked her to help them find a snake. And then asked her to follow them to the next city. And then asked her to stay, and has been asking her every day since then with silent looks and lingering smiles.

"What about the Cobalt Soul?" she wonders and inches forward, still not intruding - she hopes.

The corner of Beau's mouth curves up, maybe a smirk or maybe a smile. "What about them?"

"Don't you wanna go back?"

"Do you want me to?"

Helpful. Jester groans. "Beau, it's very impolite to answer a question with a question!"

"A thousand pardons." The words are dripping with sarcasm and finally, she opens her eyes, turning to look at Jester over her shoulder. "I'm where I want to be, Jessie. Don't worry."

"But why? Why did you say yes?" It makes sense now, she's part of the group now, engrained so thoroughly within their family like all the others. They've made money and memories, shared laughter and heartbreak, they've done great things and are on the path to do even greater.

But in the beginning, it was a boy and a girl with nothing to offer, nothing to earn, nothing to gain.

Sunlight spills over the horizon and bathes Beau's brown skin in warmth. She shrugs simply, unfolding her legs and stands up to stretch. "You needed help. Why wouldn't I say yes?'

It's not too long later when Jester lingers at the edge of the party. That she watches her friends, her family start to gather their things up and get ready for the day.

"Momma," she says with a twist of her fingers through the air, powers of the arcane sending her words hundred of miles across the land. All the way to the coast.

Beau drops down on the log between Yasha and Fjord, leaning forward to offer Caduceus some of the fruit from her plate.

"I think I'm in love."

#critical drabbles #critical role #jestergard #beaujester #the mighty nein

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fullmetalscullyy · 6 years ago

Text

i want to take care of you

read on ao3 and ffnet

“i want to take care of you”

“Shit,” Riza cursed softly, her head jerking as she flinched away from her fingers. She pressed them gingerly against the fresh wound on her cheekbone. That was going to sting for a while, and would no doubt leave a scar. She sighed quietly to herself. What was more frustrating would be her superior’s reaction when he saw the gash on her cheek. She could picture it now; the controlled fury in his expression, the way his eyes would dance with anger, and how his hands would form fists by his sides, steadying their shaking. While Riza could appreciate the fact someone cared about her, and was willing to look out for her, it was an inherent risk of the job. They all knew that. Besides, she would handle these idiots herself no problem. While revenge wasn’t something that drove her, payback was a bitch and these criminals would get what was coming to them. Riza couldn’t deny that it would be satisfying to see them put away for what they had done.

She was angrier at herself for this stupid mistake. One had gotten too close and with a razor hidden under his shirt sleeve he had slashed at her face. The wound stung and she winced as the cool air hit it while Riza ran as quickly and as quietly as she dared up the slightly rickety stairs in the abandoned warehouse. Riza was pretty sure the metal staircase was in violation of a building code somewhere but couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, her jaw set, and she grit her teeth against the pain in her face.

Dust kicked up as she moved, irritating her nostrils. Forcing down the urge to sneeze and scrunching up her nose, Riza breathed through her mouth quietly, swiping at the blood on her face irritably.

A noise sounded through a door to her right. Raising her weapon, Riza steadied herself with one single breath. Then she kicked.

The door swung open with such a force it banged loudly against the wall, the hinges straining at the impact. Her eyes picked out two men in the darkened room. Blackout curtains were pulled over the window to hide the shady workings of the small, cramped room. That’s why she hadn’t been able to pick out anything from the outside during their surveillance period. Clever, but not clever enough to shut up shop when her and the team arrived, or to realise that there were people onto them. They were not the brightest of the bunch, and that’s why Riza was so annoyed with herself over this stupid cut on her cheek.

“Get down,” she barked. Both froze and in the light cast by her torch, Riza could see their fight or flight response kick in. One bolted for another closed door to the left while the other rushed her at the same time. The man trying to escape grabbed whatever was on the table and dashed out, bottles falling from his arms and bouncing on the floor as they fell in his haste to wrench open the door.

The man rushing her received a gunshot wound to the shoulder while she tracked the escapee, placing a bullet in his foot. With a cry they both fell within seconds of each other, crashing to the floor. Some of the bottles smashed in the escapee’s arms but Riza couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Securing both men, Riza left them a heap on the floor, and not a minute after she had done so, footsteps echoed down the hall. Raising her weapon, Riza breathed in relief as she saw Mustang and Breda enter the room. The room was dark, but she still angled her injured side away from Mustang’s view. They had more important things to worry about right now.

“Excellent work Lieutenant,” Mustang congratulated, head moving to face the two men.

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll wait with them while you direct the MPs.”

He nodded and breezed out of the door, black coat billowing behind him. Riza followed but stopped at the door, flicking the safety off once more and gripping her weapon tightly. She heard their voices echo down the hall, Mustang asking Breda to find a way to get the power on in the building.

That was partly why the criminal had gotten so close. It was so damn dark in there that in the large, open, and overcrowded room below, Riza hadn’t seen her assailant coming. He had vaulted over two crates stacked on top of each other, landing a kick to her chest and knocking her to the ground. She had reacted quickly, but her chest stung from the kick and her back ached from the impact against the concrete floor. With a roll she was crouched and aimed to fire, but not before he stabbed wildly, connecting with her face. Riza had swept his feet from underneath him, striking out as she lurched to the side as a reaction to the attack. With a heavy thud, he landed on his back and Riza restrained him, leaving him to struggle in between the crates while she pursued his friends.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?” she heard Falman call from down the hall.

“In here.”

Falman came into view a few seconds later, holding up two torches. Flicking one on, Riza blinked in the sudden light. Her pocket one she used with her weapon didn’t hold a candle to the strength of those two.

She knew he had seen her face while she had been dazzled by the sudden light, because he froze and one of the torches moved to her face. Watching as his jaw set, without another word he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she replied, slightly touched by his thoughtfulness. Falman was always the one who was prepared for everything and Riza thanked him for it in that particular moment.

“Are you okay?”

Riza nodded. “One got too close in the darkness. He’s still downstairs.”

Falman nodded. “I’ll go retrieve him for the Colonel.”

Five minutes later the MPs entered the room, followed by Havoc, and collected the two criminals. One asked her about her face, causing Havoc to turn sharply to face her.

“What happened?”

Riza said nothing, her jaw setting and her stomach clenching. She knew this was going to happen, but it didn’t stop anger at her own incompetence spiking. Not wanting to talk about it, Riza opted to just get it over and done with. She would have to do it again very shortly anyway. With it being on her face no one was going to miss it, but Riza just wished her friends wouldn’t make such a big deal about it.

“Hawkeye?” Havoc warned when she still offered no explanation. His hand lifted to her face, fingers angling her head so he could get a better look at it and Riza didn’t resist. “What happened?” His voice was softer now.

“One of them got too close.” She tugged her chin out of his grip. “I dealt with him accordingly.”

“Go and see the medic. I’ll take over here.”

“No.”

“Hawkeye,” he warned, brow furrowing in frustration.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant Havoc.”

“That’s great, but sepsis isn’t. Go and get it checked.”

Riza frowned. She was unhappy, but she knew he was right. There was no telling what was on that blade and the last thing she needed was to suffer the effects of an infection. With a quiet huff she turned and left the room.

The medic was outside in the blissfully empty entrance way. She didn’t know where the team were, but she was glad she would have some peace while this was dealt with. The medic tutted and busied herself with preparing to treat Riza. After a round of sterilisation, the alcohol causing her wound to sting like hell, a dressing was placed over it and the medic gave her some extra for when it would need changed.

Just as she was finished being patched up, Mustang chose that exact moment to exit the warehouse. Breda was talking to him, but his eyes drifted over to the movement and locked on Riza’s. With a resigned sigh she turned away from him, preparing herself for the onslaught of questions.

“Lieutenant?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. Friendly concern was fair enough, but she didn’t like that look in his eyes. It spelled bad news and risky decisions. “Are you all right?” Mustang asked. His course altered immediately, making a beeline for her.

“Yes, Sir. One of them got too close in the dark,” she explained, tone sour. She still wasn’t happy with herself.

“What happened?”

Her eyes narrowed minutely, daring him to make her explain her shortcomings in front of someone. Breda was all right, but the medic? Luckily, the woman excused herself, obviously sensing the mood.

“Sir, I’ll go and direct the MPs,” Breda announced, his eyes focussing on a point behind Riza. Turning to look behind her, she saw a car pull up and the MPs exited, striding towards the trio. Mustang nodded, his eyes briefly leaving Riza’s face to glance towards the street.

“What happened?” he asked in that soft voice she loved but hated to hear in the workplace. It was a reminder that they were bound to their path and couldn’t risk any moments of weakness, no matter how much they wished it.

“I told you,” Riza replied, but not harshly. “It was a slip up.”

“No, to your face,” he clarified. “How bad is it?”

“Just a scratch, Sir.” It wasn’t. It was deeper than a scratch, but there was no need to worry him now.

He sighed, not believing her in the slightest. “Hawkeye –”

“Sir,” she interrupted, reminding him exactly where they were. She knew that look on his face. She knew he wanted to run back in there and deal his own version of justice to whoever had hurt his Lieutenant. “I’m all right, I swear. The medic has signed me off to return to active duty. It’s nothing you should concern yourself with.”

He stepped aside and jerked his head, towards the warehouse. “Walk with me?” he asked quietly. Riza sighed and nodded, following behind him.

“I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and I apologise if I made it seem like I didn’t.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him.

“But is it wrong for me to worry?” he asked quietly, pausing at the door, offering Riza to walk through first. “I want to take care of you,” he announced softly, his hand coming to her lower back to guide her through the door as they entered the warehouse. Riza sucked in a breath at the unexpected – but not unwanted – contact. “I know you don’t need it, but you’re hurt.”

“It’s a tiny scratch,” she explained, her injury not warranting this kind of reaction, however this was Roy she was talking to. When she was injured, no matter how severe it was, all bets were off with him.

“The offer still remains.”

“I know,” she replied, a small smile gracing her lips. “But we can’t.”

Mustang nodded in understanding, a quiet sigh leaving him. “I know,” he muttered. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Riza stopped in between the dark crates. The lights were yet to be turned back on in the facility and the light from the open door was their only source, shrouding half of Mustang’s face in shadow. He watched her expectantly, expression turning mildly surprised when she pressed a hand to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

He lifted a hand to her face, his thumb grazing across her dressing. Riza’s eyes fluttered closed involuntarily, supressing a wince as even the slightest pressure made it sting. She still savoured the feeling of his fingers on her chin, angling it towards the light, and the sweep of his thumb across her cheek. A shiver ran down her spine.

The lights turned on and their quiet moment was interrupted. In their position they were hidden from view on every side. Havoc called for Mustang from the catwalk above, signalling that was the end of their conversation.

“Can I see you tonight?” he murmured quietly. “I can cook dinner?”

Riza almost refused. Almost. Risking it was a foolish move but that look in his eyes stopped her. It wasn’t the clearest in the dim lighting, but it spoke of promise. It told her that he simply wanted to ensure she was all right, and that he wanted to spend some time with her. The latter was something she didn’t want to pass up on, no matter what she told herself.

“Okay,” she breathed, resigned. When it came to Roy, she would always agree, who was she kidding?

His excited eyes and happy grin were enough for her. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before breezing off to find Havoc, his expression all business once more.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #emma writes

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fuafuakiss · 7 years ago

Note

52- Shane?

I am assuming this meant to say Shance.

52-: “You’re my Omega, and mine alone.”

They all knew it would happen eventually. Or at least Lance did.

Clearly, being an omega came with both benefits and risks. Until that moment Lance had been lucky enough to mainly experience the positives – a supportive family who held him when he cried, kick-ass friends who would defend his honor in a fight, and a caring alpha boyfriend who hated traditional submissive omega roles. Sure, he’d had the usual street harassment, sexist stereotypes, and leering looks aimed at him, but he’d escaped the worst of what he knew happened to omegas around the world.

So when the Galra used his biology against him, Lance was thoroughly unprepared to fight back.

The team had split up once they arrived at the abandoned Galran base, everyone taking a different level while Pidge stayed central to hack into their database. Lance had taken the top which was more like a series of interconnected catwalks than a floor. As a sniper, he was both familiar with heights and would be ready to provide backup if needed for Shiro who was just below him.

“Still not seeing anything, guys,” Lance moaned into his headset. “Are we sure this place wasn’t just like built, but then they ran out of budget and never moved in? Or maybe it wasn’t up to code. Black mold? Asbestos? Space cockroaches?”

“Do they have exterminators in space?” Hunk whispered, worriedly. “Can we call one? I can definitely see this level being infested.”

“Probably just zombies creeping up behind you to eat your brains,” Pidge chimed in happily, making Hunk gasp in fear.

Lance chuckled as Shiro scolded them. His eyes scanned the shadows around him, his bayard raised and at the ready as he strolled along past random pipes and wires.

Switching to a private line, Lance haled his boyfriend. “So, Shiro, if there really are space zombies, will you be the knight in shining armor to save me?”

Lance could practically see Shiro shaking his head as he sighed. “Concentrate, kitten. I’d rather not have to save you if you could fight them off yourself.”

“But it’s more fun when I get to be the beautiful damsel in distress,” Lance whined with a smile, pausing to lean on the railing to wait for Shiro to catch up. Because Shiro had to check additional hallways and doorways as they went along, Lance would often get ahead and have to wait for the alpha to catch up, but teasing Shiro always made the time pass more quickly.

“Well, you’re always beautiful, so we’ll just have to work on the distress, huh?” he heard Shiro chuckle through the line. “Or maybe you’d like to play up the damsel bit?”

“Mmm…” Lance hummed, his grin turning into a smirk as his voice dropped to a purr. “Are you asking me to wear that skirt again, Shiro? I’ll have to work on getting that slick stain out first.”

Shiro swore, letting out a strangled groan. “And this is why I can’t talk to you during missions. I’m shutting this down now before you start getting out of hand.”

Lance just giggled and gave a smooch as he switched back to the main line. The team’s chatter once again filled his ears as he deactivated his bayard. Placing his forearms on the railing, he tiredly rested his head on his arms, patiently waiting for Shiro to round the last corner.

Just as he caught sight of the black paladin’s armor, he heard and felt something drop down behind him. Lance immediately whipped around, raising his bayard in defense, but only got about half way before he felt a hand clamp down on the back of his neck.

As it squeezed, Lance’s heart filled with dread. His limbs became heavy and limp while his eyelids drooped, and his mind shut down. He was being scruffed, put into the ultimate state of submission for an omega where the body was forced into a state of complete relaxation and compliance.

He barely felt his bayard slip out of his hand, but he had just enough strength left to kick it as hard as he could towards the edge of the catwalk. He heard the distant clatter as it hit the floor below and knew that Shiro would at least know something was wrong.

[As his vision faded out, Lance could only hope his white knight would save him. ]

xXx

Lance felt the world come back slowly. His mind protested being awake, wanting to escape the uncomfortable feeling of cold metal on his back and the stench of posturing alphas in the air. But with his returning consciousness also came a sense of danger, a reminder that he had been captured and was now probably in a cell on some Galra ship halfway to Zarkon.

Finally, he opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh light for a moment before things came into focus, and his fears were confirmed. He was locked down in some nondescript room – three purple-tinged walls and a glowing purple forcefield to keep him in. They really needed to hire a new interior designer.

Slowly sitting up to rest his back against the wall, Lance’s head swam. Like adrenalin, when the hormones released by the scruffing left his system, he was left weak, tired, and dizzy. The fuzzy cotton that had filled his mind had been replaced by an echoey chamber-like feeling, his thoughts bouncing around like birds without a place to rest.

As he shifted, Lance felt something odd on the back of his neck. He brought his fingers up to the spot and found an oddly metallic sticker-like rectangle attached there. It was completely smooth but seemed too hard to be plastic. The edges almost seamlessly transitioned from metal to flesh, and Lance couldn’t make it budge when he tried to pick and scrape at it.

Was it a brand? Some sort of barcode? Or maybe like an insta-kill switch…

Lance didn’t have long to wonder as footsteps came echoing down the hall. As they got louder, the smell of alpha got stronger as well. Whoever was walking towards him was the head honcho on this ship, and he clearly liked to make that very obvious.

When two guards and a small, grumpy looking Galra stopped outside his cell, Lance wasn’t surprised. Lance knew the amount of pheromones this guy was pumping out was just a sign of insecurity. He’d also come across enough of these types on Earth to know that that feeling of incompetence meant they were often hot-headed and quick to attack – a possible advantage in battle.

Wow, Shiro was definitely beginning to rub off on him.

“Omega,” the Galra barked, his body straight and at attention.

Lance just rolled his eyes, giving him an unimpressed look. “Wow. You can smell. Congratulations.”

The alpha growled, his eyebrows drawing down in a scowl. “Know your place, omega. Or you will learn it very swiftly.”

“My place? Oh shoot. I thought it was back with Voltron, but I have a feeling you guys might have a different opinion on that,” Lance replied sarcastically, picking at his nails in false boredom. In reality, his body was tense, waiting for that moment he would cross the line and discover just how far he could push this guy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw one of the guards hand the leader something small and black. Just as Lance glanced up, a wave of pain ripped through his neck and flashed down his body, searing his limbs with white hot agony. A scream shredded his throat as he felt his body set on fire, every nerve raw and boiling.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to leave him reeling, his once scattered thoughts buzzing in his head, his limbs shaking, and his breath heavy pants. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to even twitch if it meant ever being in that type of pain again. Quiznack, he wasn’t going to make it through this.

“Do you understand now?” the leader spit at him, the sound harsh and grating in his throbbing ears. Or maybe it was just his whole body pulsing in echoed pain.

From where Lance had unconsciously slumped to the side in relief after being released from the agony, he saw the Galra raise his hand again. Immediately, Lance forced his mouth open, his vocal chords desperately working as he managed to mumble out a ‘yes.’

Lance could see the commander lower his arm again, a reluctant relief seeping through his body. He was so weak.

One of the background Galra finally spoke up. “That device on your neck was designed by our resident druids just for you. It takes advantage of the unique omega structure of your scent glands to administer whatever sensation we want – pain, fear, arousal, submission. Anything your body can feel, we can make a reality,” the Galra explained, a smug satisfaction in his voice.

Lance, on the other hand, could feel horror slowly taking over. He thought he was weak now? These sadists could literally make him feel however they wanted, and from the feeling of that little demonstration, he would have no way to fight it, the sensations powerful and overwhelming…

“The druids discovered that the specific hormones that run an omega’s body are stimulated in a certain way, the omega will be prompted to respond. Unlike betas and alphas, omegas accept these signals without a fight or any sort of backlash.”

Lance could see him walk to the biometric scanner to lower the forcefield. For a moment, Lance thought of trying to run, fighting back, proving he wasn’t to be messed with as a paladin of Voltron, but if this dickbag’s words were true, he wouldn’t get far. Would probably be better to just lay low and wait for an opportunity to remove the device or steal the remote.

Lance kept his eyes trained on the ground, allowing his fear to drive his reactions but not take over his body. Commander Assbucket crouched down in front of him with a cocky grin. “That’s right. Your sass won’t get you anywhere here. About time you wild omegas learned how to act. You’re only purpose is to look pretty and suck up our spunk.” The douche dick laughed. “What do you think about that?”

Before Lance even got a chance to open his mouth, the Galra had pushed a button on the remote. The next second, Lance’s mind was once again falling into that submissive fog of being scruffed but this time without the heavy exhaustion. It was more like he was drunk, his body light and floaty to go with the openness in his brain. When he moved his hand to his head, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion, syrupy and smooth.

From what felt like both far away and right beside him, an alphas voice requested his attention. Lance’s head swiveled towards the noise as his mouth broke out into a dreamy smile. The alpha grinned back, his scent thick in Lance’s nostrils. “Now you’ll repeat after me: omegas are stupid fuckholes meant for alphas to enjoy.”

“Omegas are stupid fuckholes meant for alphas to enjoy,” Lance happily slurred.

“And I am the biggest whore of them all.”

xXx

By the time they had finally tracked down Lance’s location, Shiro was ready to explode. His inner alpha was raging at the loss of its omega, its intended mate, the man that they loved. He should have paid attention better, not let himself get distracted, known Lance’s radio silence was trouble, and found the Galra far sooner. It was his duty to protect Lance, and he’d failed.

As they flew towards the target, the communicator was silent. Everyone was on edge, and Shiro couldn’t blame them. Their omega was the one to keep things light, cracking a joke or starting a play-fight to keep people out of their heads. Without him, they were serious to the point of fragility. One word could be the catalyst to cause them all to fall apart.

Shiro’s human hand twitched on the controls when the Galra ship came into sight. He was itching to slam down on the throttle, to race forward and take down their enemies in a wave of lasers before they even knew what to think. But that could get Lance killed, and so he had to be patient and rely on stealth like they had planned.

When they were finally close enough, Shiro broke the silence. “Allura and Hunk break off. Keith with me. Pidge, stay back until we’ve engaged.” There was a murmur of agreement as they all took their places.

It was time to save his omega.

xXx

Lance wasn’t sure how long he floated. He was only aware of time passing when an alpha gave him a command. In between, he’d let his mind drift away just enough to lose perception but not too far to lose awareness of the alphas.

He didn’t particularly remember what he had been told to do. Or maybe he just didn’t feel like concentrating that hard on pulling the memories to the surface. He knew he was sitting at the foot of the head alpha, his head resting on the alpha’s knees as the Galra slowly pet Lance’s hair. Vaguely, Lance felt the press of a silky material wrapping his body from his thighs to just below his chest as well as the cool feel of leather around his throat, but he didn’t give it more than a passing thought. He was simply content to sit there, look pretty, and do as the alphas commanded.

It wasn’t to last, though, as an alarm suddenly shattered the silence they’d wrapped themselves in. The alpha above him tensed, the hands in his hair tightening and pulling on their hold as he began barking orders. Lance was largely ignored, so he let himself drift off once more.

But when the doors at the other end of the room burst open, the head alpha leapt to his feet, forcefully shoving Lance to the side where his head smacked against the ground. A flash of pain broke through the fog, clearing his mind just slightly as his instincts warned of danger.

The jolt was just enough to bring Lance to the surface of awareness. Without moving from where he’d fallen, he glanced around in a daze, catching sight of what appeared to be a battle raging at the other end of the hall between the head alpha and another unfamiliar one. The guards seemed preoccupied fighting someone else, but Lance couldn’t quite see from his prone position on the floor. It didn’t matter, though, as the two alphas kept his attention. The new alpha was dressed in black and white armor with a mechanical attachment for an arm that seemed to double as a sword. The fighting was fierce, but the other alpha was clearly winning.

He seemed mad, his fists flying with a furious desperation as he bared his teeth in a show of aggression. His entire body was coiled tight like a spring ready to unleash his rage on his opponent in an awe-inspiring display of power and domination. There was no way the head alpha would be winning this fight.

“Lance!” the unknown alpha shouted, drawing the omega’s eyes. “Are you okay? Please get up!”

Was he supposed to obey this alpha? He didn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t. He was meant to obey all alpha commands, no questions asked.

So Lance raised his body off the ground to sit cross-legged on the floor, staring at the two alphas locked together in battle as he waited for another order. The head alpha snarled at his action, but Lance remained passive. A growl wasn’t a command.

Lance watched and waited as the other alpha beat the leader bloody. Finally, the man in the white armor held his glowing arm to the head alpha’s throat, declaring his victory and demanding the commander submit.

Instead, the fallen leader spit at the alpha on top of him. “Your paladin is under our control now. We give him orders, he obeys like a perfect omega slut–”

He broke off as the fighter whipped his fist across the Galra’s face and demanded in an enraged voice, “What did you do?!”

Instead of responding, the commander smiled and raised his voice to shout at Lance:

“Omega, do not listen to this alpha! I am the only one you will obey. And you will kill yourself!”

Lance barely had time to process the words when, without thinking, his hands came to pull the leather collar around his throat tight enough to cut off the flow of air into his body. A metal lock clicked into place, unable to be loosened even if he tried. It hurt, his neck feeling like a molding fruit being crushed in a fist, but he simply covered the collar with his hands to keep it protected. It was now his duty to die.

Even if a small part of his chest pulsed in pain. It was a different kind of hurt from the intense pressure around his neck, but it almost felt worse. Like his heart was rebelling against him.

“No!” the other alpha shouted desperately, catching Lance’s attention. The man had abandoned the leader and was running towards him. “Stop! Lance, stop!”

Lance watched, spots flashing across his vision, as the guy collapsed to his knees in front of Lance. The alpha raised his hands, seeming to hesitate, reluctant or unsure of where to touch him but soon had him around the wrists, gently yet firmly removing his hands to inspect the leather.

“Keith!” he yelled without looking towards the other fighter. “I need your dagger right now!”

Some response, but Lance couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He only saw a flash of something flying towards them and then the man had released one of his wrists to pick up the knife.

A dull fear flashed through Lance’s body. He began fighting, his free arm pushing, slapping, and punching the man as he attempted to yank his other arm free.

“Lance, kitten, whatever they did to you, you can fight it,” the man spoke, his eyes pleading but soft as he tried to subdue and soothe the omega. “You need to breathe. You need to live! For me, for us, for the team. Hunk, Pidge, Keith, Coran, Allura, your family. Everyone needs you to be around.”

The eyes were searching his face, but Lance didn’t stop. On the outside, he was one-minded, only concerned with getting away from the man threatening to stop him. None of that mattered. He would obey the leader over any other alpha.

Yet, the ache in his heart grew even worse. Tears started dripping down his face, but he didn’t know why. It had to be the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain…

When the alpha saw his tears, his expression became hard and angry. “Fight it! Damnit! You’re so strong! And you will not listen to that bastard! You’re my omega and mine alone!” he yelled, surging forward to claim Lance’s lips in a fierce kiss.

As soon as their mouths met, Lance shuddered at the extreme pain in his chest. The touch of the man’s lips against his own was warm and pleasurable, but his heart was going to burst from emotions he was desperately trying to push back down. He tried to pull away, to escape the agony of the onslaught of sensations, but the alpha held him tightly in place with a hand to the back of Lance’s head, a clatter as the dagger was dropped to the ground.

Lance could feel the man’s inner alpha taking over. The scent of alpha was hard, possessive, and dominant, worming its way into Lance’s mind even without breathing to send things spinning once again. He couldn’t remember why he had been fighting against this, only that there was pain, and there was the alpha. And he knew if he gave into the alpha, the pain would go away.

So he didn’t fight it any longer. His body relaxed as he let the alpha’s presence sweep him away, warm and pleasant in his submission.

Unlike before, the sensation pulled his mind back from the fog and into an awareness of himself and his surroundings for just a moment. He remembered who he was, why he was here, and finally that he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

He grabbed the hilt of of the forgotten dagger and held it up to his neck. With what little strength he had left, he slid it under his collar and yanked it away, slicing the leather in two. As soon as it fell away, Lance was gasping, coughing, and choking to bring air into his lungs.

Immediately, Shiro snapped out of his alpha craze and pulled back with wide eyes to search Lance’s face. “Kitten?” he whispered hopefully.

Lance nodded, smiling wide, the tears still trickling down his face. His voice was ragged and scratchy. “Did I make a good damsel in distress then?”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile back as relieved tears rolled out of his eyes. “The best.”

#shance #lance x shiro #abo #voltron abo #voltron a/b/o #omega lance #alpha shiro #my fic #a/b/o #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics

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jrazillashadowworks · 7 years ago

Text

Behind the Mask

So, this short is for Victubia’s February theme of Behind the Mask. I really enjoyed writing this silly story and I hope that you will enjoy reading it as well!

Word Count: 2053

Warnings: None

It had been a long day of disappointing drills for Luca, the sun slowly descending into the warm, red, pink, and purple liquid hues of the darkening sky before he was let loose. It would be a lie if Luca admitted he wasn’t distracted the entire day, mind preoccupied with looking forward to going to the Royal Library to see his crush Melissa as soon as he was free.

Unfortunately for him, his military drills were overseen by Channarong, the most prestigious strategist within the Royal army, who kept him there longer than anyone due to his abysmal attention span and scores in each session. At the very end, he had sighed and slapped Luca on the forehead with a gilded, folded fan.

“You hold yourself as loyal to her majesty,” Channarong said coldly, his voice like icy steel. “With such a pathetic display, the Queen herself would feel a true dishonor should she had witnessed it. Don’t let it happen again.”

With the plump strategist disappointingly walking away, Luca couldn’t help but feel tears sting his eyes, finally realizing the weight and severity of his failure. There was nothing he abhorred more than failing his Queen. Sniffing loudly, he promised indeed that he would not fail her again.

Leaving the training grounds, Luca felt the immeasurable burden of his incompetence on his consciousness, almost too ashamed to meet with Melissa after failing in such a manner. So, it was more out of habit that his body continued on to the library than his mind, which was lost in deep thought.

However, along the way, a ruckus broke out in front of him, ripping him back. Luca only caught a glimpse, as a robed figure knocked over a woman carrying a basket. With an alarmed yelp, she fell over and the bizarre person darted into the nearest alleyway. Instantly, a flare of inspiration filled Luca’s chest, a chance to make up for his dreadful performance that day. Whoever this person was, they were surely up to no good.

Running up alongside the woman, he helped her to her feet and kindly asked if she was okay, instantly giving chase to the individual once she nodded, a blush setting on her cheeks. Surged with purpose, he charged just in time to see the billowing tail of the blue cloak reach the bend. Turning the corner after them, Luca caught sight of the strange, Papier Mache mask made up of white and yellowed book pages, adorning the hooded figure as it looked back at the hulking man. “Wait up,” Luca amiably called out.

From then, a ridiculous game of cat and mouse transpired in the streets of the Capital, the two weaving through the evening crowds, the masked one keeping just out of reach. Luca pressed on, politely yelling at all to get out of the way, while the figure knocked over whoever and whatever they could to bar the muscular Luca, who apologized to all who were affected.

Amongst the crowd, out of the corner of his eye, by a pure stroke of luck, a stern ‘friend’ of Luca’s raised a brow, freezing on the spot, possibly hoping to not be noticed. Unfortunately for him, Luca saw him.

“Hi, Riley,” Luca chimed excitedly, waving madly without losing his stride. “I’m chasing a suspicious individual! Once I capture them, I won’t have failed the Queen! Isn’t that great?! Got to go, bye!” Riley completely ignored him and the confused eyes darting to him and left the scene.

Keeping up his warm, silly expression, breathing lightly, Luca easily out winded the one in the mask who begun to slow after ten minutes of continuous running. Though it was impossible to see the villains face, it would surely be surprised that such a behemoth could be so fast.

Finally, by some bad planning on the part of the villain, they had run into a dead end in the form of a tall brick wall. Now, Luca stood at the mouth, thick arms out. “I gotcha,” he said with a smile.

The cloaked individual paced back and forth, mumbling curses as they started to jump pathetically at the wall, fingers not gaining purchase between the grout to climb up. At that moment, their cloak opened up, revealing a strapped, leather knapsack, filled with multiple books and tomes.

“Drat and curses,” they finally hissed, their voice all over the place, piercing high octaves at each end of their sentences. “You belligerent oaf! I have never been caught before. To think it would be to such a bumbling beast! For shame!”

Lots of words had been lost to Luca, who simply stood there and smiled brightly, large chest heaving. “By her majesty, you will turn yourself in…” Mid-sentence, Luca realized he had no idea what the person had done wrong. “For…whatever crime you have committed.”

“Blast it! Fine!” They unstrapped the bag and held it out. “Rejoice you buffoon, for you have caught the nationally infamous, Victubian book thief!”

Luca’s expression slacked as he then gasped. “Woah! That’s pretty impressive!”

“It is?” The thief faltered, unsure if he was serious. “I mean, yes! That’s right! So, well done! You’ll be lauded as a hero for this!”

Luca’s face flushed as he suddenly chuckled bashfully. “I’m a hero,” he said more to himself. “Wait until I tell Melissa!”

“Congratulations. So are you going to take the books or not?”

“Ooh, right.” Luca closed the distance and took the bag into his hand, clasping it close to his powerful chest.

“Now do you want to know how to become more of a hero?”

Peering down into the mask of the thief, Luca’s sea green and blue eyes sparkled. “How?”

“You let me go. It means that one day you can catch me again and then you’ll be twice the hero.”

Luca gasped innocently. “Really?!”

“Absolutely. You can trust me. Would this face lie?”

“But I can’t see your face…”

They chuckled and started to lift up the mask slowly. Out of nowhere, a rush of professional and forceful voices blared out behind Luca, a ways back. Taken off guard at the moment, Luca failed to keep the thief, as they took the opportunity to dash past the man and disappear just in time for police officers to come into view.

Ray spearheaded this group of officers who surrounded Luca now. Fixing his cap, the young constable looked Luca up and down. “What happened here?”

“Well, I had caught the infamous Victubian book thief but…then they got away.”

“The who? Never mind, follow me to the station. We can talk about it there. You lot, search around for this thief. They couldn’t have gotten far right?”

“Umhm.”

Being brought to the precinct, they discussed the situation, Luca less than helpful with as little information as he actually had. At this point he was growing giddy, not wanting to miss, Melissa at the library, night already falling. Leg bouncing, he answered questions as quickly as he could. Ray finally let him go after a few minutes, along with the books, no traces of the masked thief left on any of them.

“Have a good night, soldier Luca. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Bye officer!”

Once outside, Luca instantly ran all the way the library with a fervor that matched the earlier chase. Along the way, figuring that since the books were given to him, he decided he would gift them to Melissa, considering her overwhelming fondness for such things. He did not check what the books were even about but assumed it would do just the same, knowing her thirst for new information and knowledge.

Reaching the front steps of the astonishingly elegant and massive library between the VU and VMA, Luca huffed, beaming up at the front door. All windows were ablaze with the warm glow of the golden lights within, cascading rectangles of luminance on the stone steps. Despite his long and strangely busy day, a new blossom of excitement filled him with energy and he skipped up to the entrance and swung open the door a bit too strongly. Flinching at the harsh sound of the screeching hinges, he chuckled nervously, glancing into the building.

Right away, he was greeted by a collective hiss from the libraries patrons, shushing him, glaring disapprovingly at his disruptive entrance. Grinning childishly, Luca waved with his free hand. “Sorry,” he half whispered.

Attention turning away from him, he took in the glory of the Royal Library, a tradition he was unable to break, no matter how many times he entered. He was always in absolute awe of its magnificence, the circular main building still busy even at this time of night. Three floors of countless books covered the shelved walls, with rolling, wooden ladders to reach the higher tomes leaned against them. The spines of the books created a rainbow tapestry of color all around him. These walls reached up to the glass-domed ceiling, revealing the now darkened sky, twinkling in starlight. The moon almost directly overhead, bathed the dome in the pale light, glistening against the window panes.

After standing hilariously still for a good couple of minutes once again lost to the beauty of his surroundings, a soft, sweet, and intelligent feminine voice addressed him. Blinking wildly, being pulled back to reality by the angelic, familiar tone, he felt his face immediately heat up as a radiant blush stretched across his face. Unable to contain his silly smile, he looked down on the gorgeous, dark-skinned beauty standing below him, dressed smartly and gracefully, thick, long and wavy purple hair dancing down past her shoulders and down her back.

Staring up at him with tantalizing violet eyes and an amused expression, raising the two beauty marks under the edge of her right eye, her purple brows lifting high, a long scar stretching diagonally at the corner of the right, she chuckled lightly. “Good evening, Luca.”

Luca had forgotten to breathe, finally sucking in air, a rather dramatic, strange sound. “Hello, Gor…Melissa.”

Chuckling, she grabbed his hand. “Stop standing at the entrance like a doorman at a fancy hotel and come sit down.”

Face practically a scorching, red spotlight, he followed her to the reception desk where she sat down, her posture perfect and neat. Taking a seat beside her, he fidgeted, unable to take his eyes off her. Melissa stamped a book then side glanced at him. “You look rather spent today, Luca. Rough day?”

Luca began to spill out the details of his entire day, his mouth like the opening of floodgates, words rushing out. Most people would find it impossible to keep up with the fool’s silly ravings, but Melissa did not miss a word, listening intently. She eased his worries about his earlier failure and inspired him to work harder with encouragement. Finally, he came upon the incident with the thief and lifted the bag of books onto the glossy reception desk. “A gift for you,” Luca bubbled.

Melissa scoffed lightly and gently removed and lined up the books. “I can’t believe you got them back.”

“Got them back?”

Her face lit up as she opened the covers of each book, revealing the prestigious, purple stamp of the Royal Library above the titles. “These were all stolen this afternoon by the strange individual you mentioned.” She beamed, reaching out to gingerly touch his hand yet again. “Thank you so very much, Luca. You truly are a hero.”

At a complete loss, he mumbled incoherent words, blinking at her, impossibly blushing even more than before. “T-Thank you so very much, Melissa.” Tears once again threatened to well up in his eyes, but he wiped them away quickly. “H-How was your day?”

Giggling, a chiming sound that tickled Luca’s ears with delight, Melissa’s thick lips twitched upwards at the edges. ��How about we go out to dinner and I’ll tell you all about it?”

Feeling as if his heart would explode from his chest from the sheer elation, his jaw slacked in utter disbelief. “Really?!” He asked breathlessly.

Melissa leaned closer to him, batting her lashes. “If you want to of course.”

Gulping down, he nodded briskly, an almost boyish innocence on his face. “Yes, please. I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, she stacked the recovered books and shut the last cover. “Wonderful.”

#Victubia #fan fiction #my writing #theme of the month

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imgilmoregirl · 7 years ago

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AO3 Link

Notes: This chapter was revised by the sweet @beastlycheese.

And... We are done! Thank you so, so much for reading this fic, supporting it and leaving comments, I'm really happy I could share this story with you all. <3

Epilogue

Thirteen years later.

To whoever looked at it from the outside, the salmon house hadn’t changed a bit, the colour remained practically the same, the gardens were still impeccable and there was still an old, but very conserved black Cadillac parked outside, but now with the addition of another car, a blue one, rather smaller that belonged to Mr. Gold’s wife. The loud music, however was something new for the neighbours, as well as the bunch of teenagers that had been arriving ever since lunch time.

Hanging around the living room, was Baden Gold, an arm enlaced around his blonde girlfriend’s waist, the seventeen-year-old Emma Nolan, daughter of his former teacher, Mary Margaret and the town’s Sheriff, David. There was a giant half-eaten cake on the table behind them, from which you couldn’t read the congratulation wishes anymore, but the NYU flags spread everywhere made the reasons for the party very clear, like everyone had heard from Adam during the last week his eldest son was going to college with all the merits he could have earned.

Lacey was observing them from the kitchen. She watched as Regina Mills, one of Emma’s best friends approached them to start a conversation, knowing that the girl was probably there without her mother’s consent, because Cora hated both the Golds and the Nolans. Distractedly, she opened the cupboard looking for the disposables, knowing that sooner or later Bae would come there saying they had ran out of them. Once Lacey found them, she called for Sarah, who had been speaking to Emma’s brother, Neal, and told her to go put them on the table. The girl rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting to obey her mother’s command, but knowing better than to start an argument with the one and only Lacey Gold, so she only turned her back to her, letting her light-brown hair bounce behind her as she went back into the living room.

Muttering something about Sarah getting too stubborn and behaving like her father, Lacey came to sit near her three-year-old son, Gideon, who was quietly drawing at the breakfast table.

“What is it, babe?” She questioned the little boy, pointing at the lines in the paper.

“Bae,” Gideon answered. “It’s a gift.”

A smile appeared on her lips and Lacey almost absent-mind petted his hair as he turned his stunning brown eyes back to the crayons he was using to draw. Gideon had been the most unexpected accident in their lives, but one that they had welcomed with all the love they had. Lacey didn’t want more children, she let it pretty clear to Gold less than a month after Sarah was born, when her exhaustion had reached its peak and she decided that as much as she loved that little girl she never wanted to go through all of this again.

But then, less than four years ago, she found herself terribly ill and when she went to the hospital, she received the news in shock and called her husband from work crying and asking how was it possible that she had gotten pregnant when they used all the contraceptive methods they could. The doctor smiled and said that nothing was a hundred percent safe, pointing then at the ultrasound machine to show the already perfectly formed human being that had been hiding inside her for months.

Now-a-days, when she told this story to the others, she just chuckled happily, but at that time, all she could do was cry. Baden and Sarah had a good laugh about that, when they were told about Gideon and both of then spoiled him a lot, not to count what Adam did for the youngest boy. They were all bewitched by him, Gideon had his family in the grasp of his small hands.

She still wore a silly smile that the girl that had met Adam Gold, at The Rabbit Hole all that time ago, would have rolled her eyes at, when she heard the echo of steps coming from the backyard and turned her face to look at her breath-taking husband. The years had been kind to him, his eyes were wiser, his hair greyer and shorter and he had gained some weight but it only made him look more handsome to her.

Bending, Adam pressed a kiss to his wife’s lips.

“Do you know where my polaroid refill is?” He asked.

“Oh, I knew that this kiss wasn’t for free,” Lacey mocked. “Please do not embarrass the boy in front of his friends with that old camera. He is leaving for college next week.”

“I know and that’s why I want pictures,” Gold said with a shrug. “I’ll spread them around the house.”

Rolling her eyes, Lacey stood up, the loud music the kids were hearing starting to give her the first signs of the terrible headache she knew that she would get later, but she wasn’t going to give in to it now, when all she should be doing was to guarantee that her stepson had the best time before going to New York. And truth be told, she would miss him like crazy, just like her husband would.

“Alright, old man,” Lacey said with a grin. “I’ll get it for you.”

Making her way upstairs, she went to the master bedroom, opening the closet’s doors and kneeling in front of her set of drawers. She was sure that she had seen the refills in Adam’s nightstand earlier that week and had putted them here, because she hated to see things out of order, making their bedroom look messy, so she started to pull out the things that were above before she could finally see the plastic case. That was when she set eyes on the black file.

Carefully, Lacey took it from the place where it had been hidden safely for the last thirteen years and passed through the pages, standing up and leaving the closet at the same time her husband entered their bedroom.

“Lacey?” He asked, seeing that she seemed lost in her own thoughts. “Have you found it, sweetheart?”

Nodding, she placed the refill in his hand, lifting the file for him to see at the same time as she did so. “Yeah, but look at what was beside it, forgotten in one of my drawers.”

Gold blinked.

“Our contract? But we burned it.”

“You burned your copy, that’s mine,” she answered, coming to stand in front of the fireplace as she threw the old file into the flames, watching it slowly start to burn as Gold’s arms enlaced her waist, his warm lips brushing at her neck. “How foolish we were.”

A tiny whimper left her lips when Gold pressed himself more firmly against her, spreading kisses up her throat until he sucked that pulsing spot that made Lacey go crazy.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adam said softly. “You know sometimes I feel I owe Milah a lot.”

“Why?”

“If she hadn’t left me at the altar, I would probably now be divorced or stuck in a marriage without love and, most important, I would have never met you.”

Lacey turned to face him the best way she could and let his lips catch hers quickly before she moved her body to be able to kiss him properly, tracing his lower lip with her tongue until he opened up to allow her to enter his mouth. She caressed every bit of it, his groans echoing down into her own mouth.

“And what would you do without me, Mr. Gold?”

“I would be lost,” Adam confessed, dragging her to the bed.

Sitting on his lap, exactly like the way all of this had started, Lacey questioned: “Do you think that they will miss us if we linger for another five minutes?”

“Of course not.”

“Great, because we can call the runaway bitch and thank her later.”

Gold’s husky loud laugh couldn’t be heard outside because of the music playing downstairs, but Lacey was just grateful that everyone was too busy to look for them right now, because the best part of forever was him. There were still tough days, they still constantly misunderstood one another, yelled nonsense and fought over the silliest things, but then, they always made amends, because that’s who they were and how they worked.

Their love was bittersweet.

End Notes: Do you have any questions that weren't answered in this fic? Send me a prompt, I already have some of them and I'll be writing more for this verse within the next weeks.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #lacey french #golden lace #baelfire #neal cassidy #ao3 #fanfic

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hamiltrashitty · 8 years ago

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How The Heck Did We End Up Here? (John Laurens x Reader)

Y’all I suck i know. I hardly post and y’all still keep following me. Tysm for everything!❤️

P.s: @helplessangelica I’m working on your request, I’ve just been having major writer’s block with it and I’m so sorry! I’ll try to get that up asap! :,)

Request from: Anon

Summary: You meet John Laurens at Alexander’s wedding.

Time Period: Modern

Next Chapter

When Eliza told you that she was getting married, you were ecstatic. You helped her pick out her dress, organize the tables, send out the invitations; long story short, you helped her do everything. You did have your doubts because she did only know her fiancé, Alexander, for a short period of time. However, Eliza made it extremely clear that they were both ready for this big step, and you were more than happy for her.

The wedding was scheduled to be held in December, and with all of the chaos of planning a wedding, it came very fast. Before you knew it, you were being stuffed into a limo along with Eliza and her sisters and driven off to her father’s mansion to be wed.

“Are you nervous Eliza?” Peggy chirped as she bounced in her seat.

“You have been very calm about all of this, you must be nervous!” you piped in. Eliza gave the both of you a weak smile.

“Oh, I’m totally not nervous..heh..” Angelica shot you and Peggy an icy look before turning to Eliza.

“You’re going to be fine, Eliza. You look stunning and I know Alexander will fall even more in love with you once he sees you in this dress.” You rolled your eyes.

“Is that even possible?” The four of you laughed and continued talking excitedly about the wedding. It’s too bad that not everyone was happy on this exciting day.

John Laurens, Alexander’s best friend and best man, was miserable. The love of his life was being taken away from him. Oh if only he had confessed his love sooner, this may have been him walking down the isle today.

John had loved Alexander for years. Ever since they met, John was head over heels. His smile, his laugh, his intelligence, what was there not to love? Clearly Eliza noticed this too. As John took another sip from his bottle of vodka, he heard the door to the bathroom open. Thinking fast, he placed the bottle in the shower just as Alexander peeked in.

“You ready?” he asked. “The limo is here and we reeeeeally need to get going.” John smiled at his friend fondly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The wedding was wonderful. Angelica, who was the maid of honor, was brought to tears. Peggy was bouncing excitedly, trying not to drop the bouquet of flowers that she was holding. You were looking at Eliza warmly as she said her vows, wondering if you would ever be in her place.

Once the ceremony was over, everyone made their way to the ballroom and took their seats. Food was served, people were dancing and laughing, children running around. It was amazing. The time for people who were close with the newly weds to give their speeches came around and Angelica went first.

“A toast to the groom and the bride!” she declared loudly. “From your sister who has always been by your side.” Eliza and Alexander smiled and locked their hands together.

“I remember on my wedding night, you didn’t believe that you would ever meet someone,” Angelica continued. “And now, here you are. I am so happy for you Eliza, and no matter what I’ll always be by your side. I love you sis!” Eliza wiped a few stray tears and ran up to her sister. They hugged each other tightly before going back to their tables.

Alexander’s friend, John, went up next.

“I remember when we first met,” he smiled warmly at the memory. “We clicked immediately. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that I could trust more than you. Congrats bud!” John walked back to his seat and took another sip of his drink. Although he was smiling brightly, you could tell that there was something wrong. However, it was not the time to dwell on that because it was your turn to go up.

“Remember that bet we made years ago that whoever got married first got 50 bucks?” you asked. “Well, guess I owe ya that.” The crowd laughed.

“Even though I’d rather keep my money in my pocket, I’m still so happy to be here with you tonight. You’ve always been by my side and I’m so glad to be able to be by your’s on your special night. Congratulations to the both of you!” You raised your glass and the crowd followed suit, cheering for the newly weds.

Alexander’s friends Lafayette and Hercules went up next, rambling about the time Alexander was drunkly screaming “Join me in my revolution!” at some bar one time. You didn’t stay for the rest of the story because you decided to follow John. He was stumbling away to only God knows where.

“John!” you called. “Wait up!” John ignored you and continued to stumble through the hall and out the door. You picked up your speed and followed him out of the door just in time to grab him before he fell down the stairs to that led up to the front door.

You gently pulled him down so that he could sit and looked up him, concern in your eyes.

“Are you alright?” John looked at you and gave you a cheesy smile.

“Yup!” he giggled. You caught a whiff of his breath and gasped. He was drunk. No wonder he was acting so oddly.

“No John, you’re not,” you sighed. “I’ll take you home, do you know your address?”

“69 Hamilton Sexy Pants Avenue,” he answered, ending his sentence with a hiccup. You facepalmed.

“That’s not an address John.”

“It is too!”

“It’s not!”

“Is too!” he pouted and crossed his arms. You wanted to go back inside and ask Alex for John’s address, but you were scared that you’d ruin his and Eliza’s special night. So you decided that you would take him to your place, what’s the worse that could happen?

*45 minutes later*

“JOHN GET BACK HERE!” John stuck his tongue out at you and ran into your room. You sighed and followed him. Once you were in your room, you caught him trying to get under your bed.

After another twenty minutes of you chasing him around, you managed to drag him into your living room and tuck him in on your couch.

“Finally..” you muttered as you ambled into your room and face planted into your bed. You let out a content sigh as you snuggled into your bed. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you felt the bed shift and two arms wrap around you.

“IGKFJSKSK, JOHN!” you screeched.

“What?” he yawned. “The couch is uncomfortable.”

“Well-“ you were cut off by a loud snore. “Ugh, really?” You tried to get out of his grasp, but he only pulled you closer. You groaned. It was going to be a long night.

Y’all at first I wrote “we clucked instantly” and now all I imagine is John and Alexander clucking together ohmygosh I'm screechi ng Keep sending requests pls! -A-A-Ron

#john laurens x reader #john laurens #x reader #hamilton #hamilton x reader #john #laurens #reader #reader insert #reader inserts #hamilton reader insert #hamilton reader inserts #imagine #hamilton imagine

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lukeysgirl · 8 years ago

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The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.6

Part S I X

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 4.5k+

AN: hAPPy fOURTH you guys (to whoever celebrates it, that is.) i hope you all have a good day today, disregarding of the holiday. i hope you enjoy this part and get it to 100 notes so we can flip out over 7. take care, stay safe, and be rad xx

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E

Saturday (Almost 1:00 A.M.)

“Why am I doing this?” You groaned, despising the agreement you had made with Luke.

You were outside the venue, L8, with the girls waiting with you. Of course it wasn’t a school night, so you allowed yourself to be just a little exposed. Your torso was hugged lovingly by a tube top, flaunting your cleavage as well as the evident collarbones by your neck. Over it was a denim jacket with wisps of wide from scratches and rips. Your legs were covered by gray leggings with converse swallowing your feet.

“Because you are prepared to slay tonight!” Des hyped, having Savannah and Alexis cheer her on. Des had came with a tight, nude dress that highlighted her double D breasts and plump ass. She stuck a few flowers in her braids with her tiny feet taken over by black Vans.

“You also said you finally wanted to leave the house,” Savannah pointed out. She was dressed in a shiny, sky-blue sleeveless jumpsuit. It was similar to a blouse with it’s loose style, and it was as soft as silk. She work some casual white wedges with the outfit, adding to her tallness. Her hair was curled, seeing her long wisps of blonde dance in a spiral.

“And you’re already here, so you can’t back out,” Alexis hummed, having her wrap her arms around your dropped shoulders. The gorgeous brunette wore a blouse-like tank top with black shorts. The blouse had pastel designs of blues and reds dancing down at the hem of her shirt. Going down her caramel, shaved legs were feet swallowed by silver heels she had stolen from her mother. Her long hair was up in a ponytail, allowing the ombre to be showed off on its own.

“This already sucks,” you growled, your body vibrating from the concrete below sending the vibes from the building. Vibrations of intense music flowed from the building, giving you and others the loud tunes that were being emitted. It was already giving you a headache, compared to the drunk around you who were freely dancing to it. “Let’s just go in already.”

The girls nodded, approaching the building with ease. It was a completely black, 3-story building. The only thing worth of color was the broken ‘L8′ sign between the first and second floor and the lights emitting from the windows. People were ornate in the front, sharing conversations of who-knows-what with alcoholic beverages nested in their hands.

“So what do you make of Luke loving you?” Alexis asked as Savannah and Des led the way and held their own conversation. You were behind the two, looking at the nasty beige tiles that made up the walls. They were chipped and broken, with a lot of graffiti on them. Spiderwebs hung from the upper corners with the ground also black with splotches of water.

“He doesn’t love me,” you began simply as you looked towards the door that held music and likely a huge crowd behind it. “Luke is stupid, he always acts this way.”

“He sounded pretty serious,” Alexis hummed, having you shake your head from her assumption.

“It’s Luke we’re talking about here,” you began quietly as you watched Des reach for the door. “He’s only got two things in his head that replaces his brain: sex and stupidity.”

You all quickly walked into the bombastic room, an extreme dimness being fought against the strobe, colored lights. Bodies, sweaty and warm, were bouncing on the claimed dance floor. You allowed a pungent whiff of perfume and sex destroy your nose as Savannah paid the bodyguard for all of your entrances. She also declared herself as the guide, leading us inside to get closer to the stage. But she stopped at the bar, pointing at the 4 free stools for you all to take seats.

“It’s fucking hot in here,” Des exclaimed, practically screaming in order for the rest of your to hear. You all nodded in agreement, allowing yourself to daze to see the stage where the music had been coming from. You noticed a few boys unplugging their instruments as a boombox continued the music. Congratulations kept the venue going as those boys disappeared from the stage and a new set come on. That’s when you saw Luke Hemmings.

Of course, the tall lanky boy stood with confidence, his wide smile brightening the lives of those right in front of the stage. He, along with the other boys, were dressed in black suits. You were quick to judge them, knowing for a fact they’ll only sweat in those. His tie was an aqua blue, which danced perfectly with his ocean eyes as he bent down and grabbed the chord to connect his guitar. His hair was curly (as usual) but they were highlighted by the bright lights. You could see the real pure color of ochre that resided in his locks.

“Pardon me, Miss.” You turned your head to face the bar tender. His brown dollops worth of eyes concentrated you as he scratched his prickly goatee. “Would you happen to go by the name of Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah?” You replied, completely confused. You had suddenly found yourself praying that this male was not your stalker. But seeing him, your stalker was much more lanky and quite thin.

“The dude asked me to give you this,” he replied, his voice having pure taste of Californian as he slid you a note. You eyed it, feeling the other girls eye it as well in your peripheral vision. “He’s paid for 6 drinks for you, so choose any 6 you’d like.”

“Did you see who gave this to you?” You asked the bartender as you took the folded index card in your hand. The bartender merely shrugged, wiping the clear-coated wooden table with a weak, white cloth, You were quick to open the note to read the words of your stalker.

I’m happy to see you have come to the party. You look beautiful, I bet. Please enjoy the drinks x - H

“Did he show you a photo of me so you can give me this?” You quickly asked. It’d genuinely creep you out if your stalker had photos of you. You wouldn’t know how much you’d like to meet him then.

“Nah, he told me to give this to the prettiest girl I see and confirm it with your name.” You blushed at the compliment, nodding gently as you rubbed the index finger with your thumb.

“How many girls had you asked before I came along?” You began, knowing that you couldn’t be the first girl. Not because of little confidence, but just out of genuine certainty that you couldn’t have been the first girl and only girl he asked and got it right.

“One,” the bartender admitted, having you raise your eyebrow curiously as Alexis snatched the note from your hand. “Would you like anything now?”

“He’s so romantic!” Alexis swooned, having you roll your eyes as you looked at the alcohols sat on the racks. You wondered what you wanted first before anything. “Calling you beautiful and what not.”

“This note was pre-written, Lex,” you began quietly as you eyed the bottle of Patron. “He has no clue what I look like now, so he just wrote it assuming I came looking nice.”

“Or maybe,” Savannah interjected as she reached in front of you to fetch the note from Alexis. “You look beautiful to him regardless of whether you tried or not.” Before you could deny, the voice of a swine erupted behind you.

“And who could possibly find Y/N beautiful?” Nadia hummed, having you twirl the stool to find Nadia in all her bitchy glory.

The redhead from hell came to the party with (basically) strings worth of clothing. A belt was clipped around her upper torso, it’s brown leather being covering her nipples while pressing the actually breasts into her body. Going down her exposed stomach was some white booty shorts that she couldn’t pull off due to her ass being the equivalent to a cutting board. You couldn’t be asked to tilt your head down to see whatever covered her monstrous feet.

“Nobody asked your slut-ass for your opinion,” Des jabbed, pursing her lips as attitude fumed the aura. Nadia rolled her eyes at your friend, her hands planted on her waist.

“What’d you say?” Nadia uttered, her hand flat and behind her ear as she directed her glare to Des. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak ape. Maybe Y/N could translate for me?”

“I’m this close to throwing your ass out a window,” Des spat, her thumb and index finger creating a small space between to the two to keep from touching. “Y/N, can I?”

“I don’t think you can if you even wanted to,” you said tiredly. “Her ego is so fat, carrying her would literally be impossible. Rolling her out a window is another story.”

“You think you’re so clever, Y/N,” Nadia said with an eye roll.

“I know I am,” you said simply. “Being the likely Valedictorian sorta makes me immensely wise. I’m sorry your close-to-dropout grades are inadequate in comparison to mine.” You listened to Alexis order a drink as you and the other girls glared at Nadia.

“You’re nothing here, though,” Nadia said with a mischievous smirk. “The smart girl in a big, social gathering like this? How does your low self-confidence thrive in here?”

“Look Nadia--” Savannah tried but Nadia was quick to raise her hand to her.

“Be quiet, blondie,” Nadia said as she kept her eyes on yours. “Your skull is too dense to even conjure the answer to a simple 1+1 equation. They look like I’s to you, right?”

“Bitch you done crossed a line,” Des growled, beginning to stand from her stool. But before Des could bother getting a punch in, Alexis was quick to splash Nadia with a glass worth of beer. Nadia stood there, frozen, with bystanders staring in shock before dissolving into hysteria.

“Oh no, I just stained your stupid, sorry!” Alexis shrieked with a fake tone of remorse. Nadia glared at Alexis harshly, her eyes full of murder as she quickly escaped and disappeared into the crowd. You looked over at Alexis, with Savannah and Des awestruck themselves.

“Ballsy,” you statement, giving her a gentle nudge on her shoulder of approval. Des and Savannah tapped on the table, cheering her on as Alexis chuckled. You shook your head, smiling at her audacity before turning back around to the bartender.

“What a waste of a beer though,” Alexis stated, slightly vexed as she returned the glass cup to the bartender.

“Lemme get another beer for my misses,” you muttered. “And a gin and tonic for me. That swine gave me a headache.” The bartender nodded before going off to prepare the drinks. As he did, you gave yourself a moment to chuckle at the fact that this dude didn’t ID you or the other girls.

“I woulda punted her,” Des said simply, completely vexed as her chocolate temple rose veins. “But Alexis saved me from damaging my nails.”

“True,” Savannah agreed, grabbing Des’ hand to admire the nail job. You smiled at the girls, feeling good that they were around. Tonight was turning out not so regretful, and you were pleasantly surprised by that. The bartender passed Alexis the beer and passed you the layered drink you requested. As you downed it, you noticed the club music fade away with a mic test occurring right after.

“Hey, we’re 5 Seconds of Summer, and we’ve got shit you can vibe to.”

You turned to see the stage, seeing heads of people slightly block your sight of Luke Hemmings and his friends. You noticed his blue eyes scan the crowd before finally stumbling on you. You were a little taken aback when he gave you this incredibly warm smile, his rough lips barely widening to express an evident fondness. He then winked, having you feel a weird surging in your cheeks when he did.

“Y/N, you okay?” Savannah asked beside you, having you give her a puzzled expression. “You’re a little red.”

“That dumbass winked at me,” you grumbled. “My body just reacts to all the stupid shit he does to me for some reason.” Savannah gave you a teasing smirk and you couldn’t help but want to slap it off her face.

“This first song is for the girl who won’t take my love,” Luke announced, directly staring at you. You cupped your hand and tried hiding your face by rising it against your forehead. The girls all touched your back, teasing you as you grabbed a straw and took a sip of your poison.

Music was quick to play, but the lyrics came immediately after from Calum’s tongue. “I can’t look at you in the same light-- knowing whatcha did, my heart doesn’t feel right. Yeah, my head’s been tripping all night. I need another point of view.”

“He’s mine!” Des yelled, pointing at Calum as she bounced from the stool and began dragging Savannah. “Ladies, let’s fuck it up!” You gulped down your glass before allowing Alexis to drag you to the dance floor. You passed through sweaty bodies before reaching a small clearance for you all to dance.

Your alcohol tolerance was horrid, feeling your head already buzz as Alexis wrapped her arms around your neck. Your hands slid to her waist, the two of you weave your thighs together to do basic two-step dance left to right. You kept bobbing your head, allowing your hair to bounce with every movement. The various colored lights were blinding you as you relied on Alexis to be your eyes momentarily.

Songs go by, and every song that is played, the 4 of you wound up closer and closer to the stage. Next song was coming through, and you were already a few feet from Luke Hemmings. That gin and tonic was taking its course on you, the poison destroying all common sense with let-loose stupidity. You could feel Des grab your hand and dance in place with you as you let your hips roll with the beat.

“It’s such a twisted story,” Luke sang, strumming his white, electric guitar. You looked up to see how shiny his face was from sweat. His cheeks were flushed, with his blue eyes still as electric as ever. They looked at you with an overwhelming intensity that proved itself to be inexplicable. And quite frankly, you were all down about it. “How you got me-- now you got me. So let me give you what you neeeeed.”

As the boys continued singing, you watched as Luke removed the guitar from his torso and jumped from the stage. The sound of shrieks in sync deafened you as Luke joined the crowd and caught. Des let go, joining the rest of the girls as they leered you. Although you were already real drunk, you still did have a good chunk of sober in you.

“Hemmings,” you muttered as he grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you on his body. You smelled the gentle scent of laundry from his suit as his hands held your firmly. With one hand pressed on his clothed chest, you used your free one to grab his jawbone and lower cheeks. “Why aren’t you up there singing?”

“Because I needed my dosage of you tonight,” Luke murmured, his lips right at your ear. You felt his warm breath tickle the lobe as he guided you in dance. You noticed then that he hadn’t tried grinding his dick into your crotch, and you hadn’t really know why. But you did appreciate it and hoped you didn’t forget the morning after.

“You’re not bad at that, by the way,” you hummed as your hands began to loosen his tie. Luke looked down at you, biting down his bottom lip as you finally untied it. You then began unbuttoning his white shirt. “That singing shit.”

“Thanks, I try,” Luke replied with a chuckle as you revealed his fairly creamy chest ornate with hair. His hands firmly stayed at your waist, not even daring to slide any lower. “Doubt I’d be this good without you.”

August.

“Hey, why don’t I get you a drink?” You slurred, gently slapping his clammy chest as you pulled away from his hold. Luke chuckled, placing his hand on your head to give it a nice pat.

“Shouldn’t I be offering you that?”

“Fuck off with your gender rules,” you growled, having Luke put his hands up as you led him through the crowd to the bar. “I have 4 more free drinks, so I might as well offer.”

“Oh shit, really?” Luke began, looking surprise as he helped you sit down on the stool. He took a seat beside you, tapping on the bar as he stared at you. As usual, this look of adoration resided in his ocean eyes every time he stared at you. “Who’d you swoon to earn that?”

“My stalker,” you said simply, tapping on the bar to get the bartender’s attention. The bartender came, noticing Luke immediately. You glanced over and saw Luke give him a stare before the bartender looked back at you. “Can we get four kamikaze shots? Those’ll be my last drinks.”

“Coming right up.” Luke looked at you, his brows raised at your request. You looked over and gave him a smirk, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers. They were clammy and bony, with callouses ornate like small little mountains. All the skills he could produce with his hands resided in the rough skin, having you stare attentively at it. And Luke couldn’t help but flush up like a tomato.

The shots finally came through, having you slide two to Luke to keep two for yourself. Raising the two in both hands, you clinked them with Luke’s before gulping them whole. Luke watched as you shuddered from the hot poison sliding down your throat and into your system. Luke then began unbuttoning his blazer before grabbing your hand and guiding you back onto the dance floor.

“I think... I better get goin’ now,” you slurred, your body gradually becoming jelly as you loosely moved your body to the music. The bands have already switched, and the rest of the boys were with your girlfriends. Des was grinding on Calum, Alexis was held close by Ashton, and Michael carried Savannah in his arms as he spun the two. You were pressed against Luke, relying on him to keep you on your feet. “I’m not feeling too peachy.”

“Want me to take you home?” Luke offered, having you reluctantly nod. Everything in your mind was just mushing together, having you fairly uncertain about Hemmings walking you home. But you didn’t want to ruin the girls’ fun by requesting them to get you home. “Alright, c’mon.”

Luke grabbed your hand and began guiding you through the crowd, which a lot of the people delayed your escape due to them praising the blonde boy. But Luke held your hand tightly, as if there was something threatening to disconnect the two of you. But you slipped through all the hot, sweaty bodies to found yourself back at the dirty entrance of the venue. Luke guided you through the door and down the hall to the real exit, having your eyes go blur from the contrast of the wild colors to the eerie yellow light that flickered from the ceiling.

“Lukey!” The shriek of the nasty Nadia gave your ear cancer once Luke got you outside. The cool air, though, soothed your body from your hot state as sweat collected in you and Luke’s interlocked hand. “Um, what’re you doing with the rat?”

“Nadia, please don’t start,” Luke groaned, evidently annoyed as well by Nadia’s presence. Nadia glared at you, having you stick out your tongue carelessly as your head was growing more dizzy. You wanted nothing to do with her at all at this very time.

“Is this one drunk already?” Nadia commented, flashing a smirk as the rest of her bitch crew laughed. “What happened? Did she take one sip of beer and topple on the dance floor?”

“It’s none of your business, Nadia,” Luke began, evidently annoyed at the red-haired, blue-eyed devil. But let’s be real: who wouldn’t be? “Now can you please hop off?”

“Or what?” Nadia teased. She then diverted her eyes on you. “Is Y/N gonna spew some intellectual shit on me? Oh no, I’m ever so terrified!”

“I can’t,” you slurred, feeling your heart beat loudly in your skull. “Your skull is so dense that my words wouldn’t be able to access your brain capacity-- which is the size of a teaspoon.”

“You bitch!” Nadia was prepared to lunge at you, but Luke quickly let go to grab the girl. You smirked, but then realized that Luke was gone and you had nothing to keep you up. Everything slowed, your sight multiplying infinitely as you were beginning to crash to the ground. You shut your eyes and waited for the clash, but fortunately, there wasn’t any.

Pulling you back up were two arms, strong ones that smelled of fuckboy cologne and felt a little moist. They were warm, surely, but it was much better than your head colliding with the hard ground. You blinked a few times and turned your head to see yourself in the arms of Nathan Holland.

“Hoeland?” You said quietly, grabbing hold of his face to feel his prickly beard tickle your fingers. “How’d you get here, Hoeland?”

“It’s Holland, and Jesus, you’re drunk,” Nathan spoke gently, looking as your face was completely flushed and your skin shiny from the heat of the venue. You giggled, placing your index finger upon the boys’ lips weakly as you shushed him.

“It’s Hoeland, okay?” You began, disproving his correction as Nathan nodded. You then giggled again and grabbed his jawline with your clammy hand. “You’re such a good boy, you listen!”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” The aggravated voice caused you to turn your head to look at Luke. He’s glaring at me, you thought, having you flush up as you stared at the angry blonde. “Of course you come right when I try stopping Nadia, right?”

“You could’ve kept holding Y/N while stopping that one with one hand,” Nathan insulting, rolling his eyes rudely at the blonde. “You don’t really think too fast, ay Lucas?”

“Fuck off, I didn’t want her to hit Y/N,” Luke barked. “Stop calling me Lucas!”

“Y/N would've been better off receiving a punch from that twig than a concussion from the floor,” Nathan spat, tightening his hold on you as you giggled. You, for some reason, laughed at the fact that you saw saliva spray out of Nathan’s mouth when he spoke.

“Sprinkler,” you whispered, looking back to see a fuming Luke Hemmings.

“Here, how about this,” Nathan began. “You keep hold of the beast over there, and I’ll take Y/N home.”

“No.” Luke immediately threw out the idea. Nadia looked up at him, a little in shock from his tone. Aside from the fact that he did want you home, he wanted to be the one to take you home. But you couldn’t catch that as your brain was gone into a different dimension. “I’ll take her.”

“Nah, you stay here and have your fun,” Nathan said simply, eyeing the way Nadia was staring at Luke. Luke simply glanced over at her and rolled his eyes before diverting his sight back to you. You notice Luke let go of Nadia’s wrists to allow his arms to hang loose at his sides. That allowed Nadia to cling onto him by the neck and press her body against him.

“Lukey~!” Nadia purred, having Luke hold her sides in attempts to push her off gently. But she was too committed, nuzzling her face against his chest to press kisses on it. “You’re so hot when you’re angry...”

“See you in class, Lucas!” Nathan called, helping you adjust by wrapping one arm around his torso. You let out a yawn as he held you by your side with one arm right above your waist while the other held your free arms hand by his body. You could hear Luke’s chants for you, but sound dissolved in thin air as Nathan guided you away from the venue and back into the streets.

“I’m hungry,” you whined, having Nathan chuckle as he guided you down the sidewalk ornate with the lights of stores and people.

“What do you want?” Nathan offered, looking down at you as you contemplated what would sit well in your stomach. Your eyes looked at the few closed stands, with the metallic cages in front of them to prevent access. You held onto Nathan’s hand tightly, feeling a headache ensue from hunger.

“What time is it?” You whispered, eyeing a brightly lit store at the end of the block. Nathan halted the both of you, let your hand go to get his phone.

“It’s almost 5,” Nathan said simply, having you nod as you two kept walking to find a Chinese food shop still open. You eyed it, evidently far too hungry to really get picky now. Like a child, you pointed at the food joint with plead in your eyes, having Nathan nod as he guided you two into the A-rank restaurant.

2 orders and a few minutes later, you were dogging your meal in the rectangular, Styrofoam container. Nathan watched as you kept shoving huge spoonfuls in your mouth, as if you were literally starving. It made him smile, and you hadn’t really known why. But there was some sort of warmth in his expression, a random fondness that you couldn’t really get down in your head.

“Drink some water, okay?” He hummed, sliding one of the 3 water bottles he bought for you. You quickly took the bottle and downed half of it before placing it down and taking a big inhale. “Tell me your address.”

“How candid,” you said with a smirk, looking into his taunting eyes. But his blue eyes were gentle, those dollops of blue-gray seeming extremely tame. It completely deferred from their usually bright state, whenever he’s being smug or annoying to Luke. “Are you gonna stalk me, too?”

“No,” Nathan said, his face expressing how stupid you sounded. “How am I gonna get you home without knowing where to take you?” You looked distantly at your food as he took out his phone. “Unless, of course, you wanted to come to my house.”

You shook your head, receiving a cheeky grin from the boy. You then sighed, your heart racing fast but your mind completely blank. You were too blurred to even think about how nonsense it is. But then you rose from your seat and grabbed the boy by the hem of his green shirt, tugging him forward as your nose was just a few inches from his. Nathan’s eyes lit up, but quickly dulled when you skipped his face and got your lips near his ear. In a whisper, you uttered a few words before pulling away and sitting back down.

Nathan sat back down in complete shock. His eyebrows rose, pure disbelief painting the entirety of his white boy-generic face. His lips were slightly parted, unsure as to how to actually respond to your address. It made you giggle, knowing that he’d have some sort of reaction like so. You then took your fork and reached over to grab one of his seasoned broccoli.

“Surprise,” you gushed before taking the vegetable in your mouth.

heLLO ! as usual, tell me whatcha think right over here and see you (hopefully) in the next part aha xx

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