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natewriteslol · 3 years

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The Wonders of Magic Pt. 1

Non magical!Twisted Boys x Witch!Reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my brain for a while since I have Little Witch Academia brainrot and I love snooty rich boys asdfljsfaj

Characters: Keep reading to find out!!

Warnings: Language and Y/N goes by she/her pronouns

Summary: Dealing with magical adventures and society deeming magic as “flashy but worthless” doesn’t deter Y/N L/N from reaching her goal of becoming a powerful witch. However, what will she do when she has to find a way to stop the selling Calypso Academy?

~~~

All your life you had dreamed of being a witch, however there was a slight problem. You weren't a magic user.

And as magic use had started to become more oppressed and scarce, magic schools were starting to open their doors to all walks of life. Making the most elite schools fall to their knees.

Either you lose your elite status or fall into debt.

So this was good opportunity for you, you managed to make it into one of the most renowned magic schools in the country, Calypso Academy. But it wasn't all peaches and cream, you weren't exactly accepted among your peers. Your family weren't magic users, nor were they wealthy. Yet you still pursued magic, there was a fire burning in your heart that just drew you in all your life. And you couldn't let your dream go just because of some mean girls. But this is the story of how you met some of your greatest obstacles.

~~~

It was the night of the great Ball, Calypso academy was having it's 350th anniversary. And you unlucky for you, you still didn’t know how to ride a broom since you were learning from the ground up.

So there you were, by yourself, in one of the open fields of your campus. Trying to make this broom fly.

And in your flight teacher Ms. Flint’s words, “If the broom doesn’t leave the ground, you can’t step a foot in the ball.” And so far, your feet have been stuck on the ground.

You felt horrible. I mean, what witch doesn’t know how to fly a broom? And while you were incredibly dejected

from your failures, you knew you couldn’t just let it go.

‘The trick it to be determined, yet feel as light as a feather. Be one with the broom’ your manifestation teacher, Mrs. Fairi had softly advised. You had to do this for for her, she already put so much faith in you, she would be so disappointed if she didn’t see you at the ball.

“Nubes Volant ro!” You casted, pushing your leg to lift. Expecting your legs to come back down and for your shoes to hit the softness of the grass... but it never came.

You opened your eyes and there you were, suspended in air.

Your excitement was indescribable, but you needed to be skilled enough to meet the requirements for Ms. Flint. So you tried and tried again, and while a little shaky you still managed to fly and do a stable landing!

“I did it! Screw everyone in this academy who doubted me!” You squealed a little loud, doing a little dance. You heard footsteps and chuckling, but you brushed it off as some of your classmates. Too excited to care, you grabbed your things and ran off to show Ms. Flint. But there was one problem, the entire point of this celebration was to both celebrate the anniversary but... it was begging as well. It was no secret that Calypso was losing money to pay taxes, but they were being pressured to give it all up. So to persuade the buyers, they had invited their son's to be enriched in witch culture and tradition. To prove them wrong and show that magic has value. However the students of the academy weren't aware of the true intentions behind the invites of the son's of these rich men. Many whispered in the halls about the upcoming ceremony. Talking about how handsome the young men attending were. But the day of the party was finally here! The banquet was absolutely incredible with 25 foot tables of food on both sides of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers with floating candles illuminating and creating a heavenly golden light. And the great ancient tapestries that surrounded the room. There was no way that anything could mess up your night.

But then, you heard a shout from a classmate in the crowd. "The nobles sons! They're here!" You stopped stuffing your face for a moment. Everyone cleared the way for the grand wooden doors as they opened, a red carpet elegantly draping the piece of floor it laid on. Designer shoes clicked as they touched the ground. Every girl eyes followed as they walked, you snuck past some trying to get a glimpse of their features. They were five of them being escorted by one older gentleman, all incredibly handsome young men. One had a bright smile that was genuine and waving at some of the girls in the crowd. While the other had a smirk not paying anyone any mind, as if he was calculating something. One held a solemn expression, yet was incredibly poised and graceful. The last two however wore scowls, one that showed he most definitely didn’t want to be here while the other just looked strict.

They sat down in their seats in the front table that awaited them. Each seat was just as fancy as a king’s throne, with gold embellishments and velvet seats.

It was a cookie cut scene, they were made for this life of luxury.

~~~

It was an hour into the ceremony, showcasing tricks and theatrical dances from every witch culture from around the globe. But it was almost as though nothing was satisfying them, besides the one with white hair. While he adorned a smile, there was something behind his eyes, as though he was doing some critical thinking.

Nothing was enough for them.

But it was toward the end and the noble’s sons were promised a tour. Every witch in the school was made to study up on knowledge of the campus. So that if you were the “lucky winner” you wouldn’t look like a complete fool.

As you snacked on your chocolate filled croissant, Ms. Flint with her booming voice had called everyone’s attention to the center of the stage. Raising her wand, a split of golden light had displayed random names.

Knowing your luck, you knew you wouldn’t be picked. I mean this was probably a tactic to get people to study the school’s magical history. It did work, as if there was a slight chance you were chosen you wouldn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of people like you usually did. But, Principal Hendrix wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to let a random student represent the school, right?

Exactly. But even then, you sure did feel sorry for whoever was to give the tour-

“Y/N L/N!”

...

Remember what you said about shitty luck?

Shocked was an understatement. Even though you had your two best and only friends Silva and Miete patting you on the back telling you congrats and to do your best, the hammering of your heart was too heavy for you to handle.

Whispers broke out for a moment, a lot of girls were incredibly disappointed but cleared the way for you to go up the stairs and talk to Ms. Flint and Principal Hendrix.

“Good job, Y/N. Now if you wouldn’t mind, please give these young men a tour of Calypso, would you?” Principle Hendrix said gently with a smile.

“Ha, ha, of course! But surely there’s been a mistake, I mean Lydia could probably recite the information without having to read a single book-”

“No way, L/N. You were chosen, now do the tour please, the latest you can be back is at 9pm,” Ms. Flint replied, cutting you off sharply.

“You’re an incredibly charismatic student, Y/N. Just keep them entertained,” Principle Hendrix whispered as you walked toward the table.

Be charismatic, not awkward! Got it!

“Alrighty then! Who’s ready for a tour?” you said, almost giving finger guns as a mechanism.

“Oh, I am!”

“Yes, I’ve been wanting to see the range of this property in person.”

“Yes, I would like to get this over with. I have an appointment tomorrow and I would not like to miss it.”

Other than that, all you received was a nod and an eye roll. But it’s better not to pry and ask for more from them.

Each getting out of their seats, you walked outside. Hearing cheers from the crowd and the occasional “Vil! I love you!” which made you a little embarrassed.

Feeling the night breeze and seeing the stars poke through calmed you down slightly, it was 7:45 and all you had to do was blabber at them about the school until 9.

Easy task, Y/N. Easy!

~~~

Once you got outside, the tour had been running smoothly for only a couple of minutes. But you couldn’t help but feel as though they started scanning you, as if they saw you from somewhere. Until unfortunately, the sunshine of the group’s lightbulb had went off.

“Oh! You’re the girl with the broomstick towards the front of the school! You looked so happy practicing.”

“There must be a mistake-”

“Are you sure? If so then I guess you have a doppelganger” the boy with glasses teased.

“Didn’t you say, ‘Screw everyone at this academy’?” the short, red head questioned, persecuting your behavior.

“Well some people here aren’t exactly the nicest. It was just an excitement of the moment thing, sorry,” You said, trying to get Mr. Non-Rule Breaker off your back.

~~~

So... you had accidently overshared about your adventures on campus.

It had all started when one of the boys looked shocked that the ancient Willow tree was thriving and looking beautiful as ever. When he looked at it from pictures given to him, it was completely lifeless and grey.

“This tree, it looks completely different? It’s been sickly for years! How is this possible?” He asked, as his main piece of evidence the white haired boy gave to his father to buy this property was foiled.

“Oh, that was me. They had willow worms in the roots that were ready to hatch and I accidently brought them out,” you said, a little prideful, yet it was quickly stomped out.

“That is highly irresponsible, you should’ve had a professional complete that task, not an inexperienced student,” the red haired boy scoffed, it seemed as though he didn’t respect this school at all. Yet the boy with grey hair and glasses paid him no mind, still incredibly astonished, but it was quickly wiped from his face and replaced with a somewhat of a sour look. As though you beat him at some game he was playing.

“...Interesting. I never knew magic could do something of that caliber,” he remarked, pushing up his glasses.

“Magic is incredibly useful, Mr...”

Shit. You didn’t get their names...

“My apologies, I didn’t catch your guy’s names,” you said, placing a hand behind your head.

You had never in your life seen a group of people get so surprised, besides the other white haired boy, who was happy to tell you his name.

“I’m Kalim, Kalim-Al-Asim!” he said, shaking your hand with a vigor, “It’s a little funny that you don’t know who we are, but I like that about you!”

How was it funny? You’ve never seen these people in your entire life? The blonde man was especially offended as you glanced at him for his name.

“Vil Schoenheit. Actor, singer, dancer, beauty influenc-”

“Hmmm, Vil I can’t help but feel that you’re angry at Ms. L/N for not knowing who you are,” the boy with glasses remarked before taking your hand, “Azul Ashengrotto, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Riddle Rosehearts,” the short red-haired boy said.

“...Leona Kingscholar.”

“Alright, I’m glad I got your names! Let’s get a move on! I have got to show you some more stuff!” you said before moving along, gaining more confidence as you talked to them.

Maybe this tour wasn’t so bad after all!

~~~

Coming up:

“How did you not know who the noble’s sons are?!” Miette yelled, but her soft voice wasn’t exactly giving the shocking boom to emphasize her feelings.

“I’m sorry! Everything was completely fine after that, if this whole tour was such a big deal then I would’ve studied them more instead of the school,” you said, completely pooped out from last night.

So much pressure on you made you very tired out, and all of these new details coming out made you feel even more guilty for your half-assed tour.

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blahkugo · 4 years

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Omakase

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+, smut, slight overstim, all characters are aged up, ofc.

A/N: Happy birthday to the woman that literally birthed my blog, the writer of the best fics I’ve ever read-- *cough Notice, Seven Minutes, Of Love and Lemons, etc.*-- @lookslikeleese. It’s 5 am right now and my brain cannot come up with the proper words, but just know I love you so much. Thank you for creating our entire friend group. I LOVE YOU.

omakase (noun):

(in a Japanese restaurant) a meal consisting of dishes selected by the chef; chef’s choice.

Thirty minutes into supper with the Todorokis, you think your heart may actually stop beating. It’s not the awkward silence, nor the snowstorm of icy glares traveling across the table. You’ve long since made your peace with the scents of charred leather couches and melted silverware that linger in your hair whenever one of the men gets riled up.

No, it’s an issue far more pressing than the typical family drama, a matter that needs to be resolved with stealth— immediately.

It’s Shouto’s fingers, darting into his pocket and pressing a single button. It’s your heels digging into the cool tile beneath you. It’s every nerve standing on end, every passing second sending a wave of heat to your core. Your knuckles blanche, gripping the oak table with such ferocity that it may just snap, and your thighs shake, overwhelmed.

The issue is that there’s a little pink vibrator pressing against your clit and the bi-colored bastard chews his food as though this night is no different than any other.

It doesn’t matter that the toy’s been placed at the lowest setting all night, doesn’t matter that your fingernails relieve a bit of the pressure every time you dig them into your exposed thighs. The only thought crossing your mind is your impending orgasm. How are you supposed to stifle euphoric pleasure when you’re barely able to hold it together now?

“So, how’s that new job going?” Enji asks more out of courtesy than interest. While you typically humor his attempts at placid conversation, you’re too troubled to speak to the stoic man in front of you. What if your juices seep through your soaked panties right onto the chair?

“It’s— ah- it’s really good.”

And this has been your entire night thus far. Feeble efforts to remain coherent, whines and gasps hidden behind awkward coughs— anything and everything you can possibly do to maintain your dignity in the presence of your boyfriend’s father.

“What was that funny story you were telling me earlier today?” Shouto doesn’t miss a beat, sending a quick slant your way before stuffing another bite of rice into his mouth. He knows precisely what he’s doing, can feel the pointed daggers you dig into the side of his head, but his relaxed smile reveals nothing to the three pairs of eyes gazing intently at you, awaiting your response.

“Oh, Mt. Lady, she— oh my god,” As soon as you begin speaking, he cranks the toy up to a new level. Though it’s only for a second, the sound that leaves your body is inhuman, a mortifying cross between a sob and a choke that has your palm slamming onto the table fiercely.

All at once, the table is bustling with concern for your safety. To their naive eyes, it seems you choked on a bite of food, and Fuyumi hurries to grab you a glass of water. Shouto simply remains seated, a slick grin plastered across his face at the sight of your heated cheeks and teary eyes. What the fuck could have possessed you to agree to this in the first place?

“I-I’m okay,” you mumble out, embarrassment shaking you far worse than any sex toy ever could. And that fact— the way your eyebrows knead together in discomfort as you squirm in your seat— is precisely what Shouto wants. You’re no stranger to humiliation, no stranger to the tugging deep in your gut or the heated flush that darts onto your mattress and makes its home on your cheeks.

But this? This type of shame is foreign; it makes your head spin and refuses to waver no matter how much you silently gripe and plead. “Honestly, I feel a bit—” another pulse, another pained gasp from you, “ill.” The words barely make their way out before you’re gritting your teeth, thighs pressing together so tightly they may leave pretty purple marks.

“Maybe I should take her upstairs,” Shouto sighs, faux apology slipping through his mouth with ease. When did the fucker get so good at lying?

And then he’s helping you up from your seat, rubbing tender circles into your back, like any good boyfriend would. But every graze is unbearable, sends a tidal wave of warmth rushing through your core. The most innocent of touches has become obscene, twisted in a way only you and the cool man next to you are able to acknowledge.

As you climb the stairs with shaky legs, you can only pray that the rest of the family doesn’t notice the slick juices trailing down your thighs.

—

“Who knew dinner and a show could be so entertaining?” He teases, just barely dodging the fist you throw half-heartedly at his shoulder. His supple lips are glued into a smirk, one that probably won’t drop until the night is long over.

“Please– I-” you attempt to stifle your moans, but in the comfort of his childhood bedroom you find yourself slipping into a high-pitched whine. “Turn it off.” He seems to debate the plea internally, slender fingers brushing over the buttons until you grip harshly at his bicep. You’ve endured enough misery to last you months.

When he finally switches it off, you feel your entire body slacken and relief wash over you; however, it does nothing for the throbbing in your clit or the pool of desire still brimming in your core. What you crave is his touch, the warmth that pokes and prods at your every muscle, loosening each nerve until you’re a babbling mess— wholly at the mercy of his lithe fingers.

“Shou,” you mewl, voice dripping with desperation. His eyes widen for a quick second, brows raised and shocked by your blatant come-on with his family only a level down. “I need you.”

Those three simple words have him springing into action, shoving you against the mattress. Pinning you beneath him with ease, he hikes your skirt up to your hips before running a slender digit against your clothed slit.

“You made a mess,” his words carry no weight, only amazement at the juices flowing freely through the thin panties and down your thighs. “Probably made a mess all over your chair too.”

With that comment, your shame is back with a vengeance, tinging the tips of your ears and causing you to cry out. Before Shouto, you’d have never thought this sort of depraved commentary could have you shaking. Hell, you’re not sure he even knew what he was doing to you at first; ever oblivious, Shouto simply speaks his mind.

Only when he noticed the effect of his words, did he begin using those passing observations against you. Now, he lives for your reactions, spurs you on if only to see how far a gruff remark can push you— and typically, your limit is reached in wanton sobs and bright red scratch marks down his back.

He doesn’t bother with removing the lace panties, only tugs them to the side so he can brush his fingers against your naked slit. When he pushes a thumb against your clit, you can’t help the loud cry that escapes you. “Bite,” he offers up his wrist so that your moans don’t carry through the thin walls.

Your teeth sink into his flesh, eliciting a sharp breath at the sudden pain. And he enjoys that part too— the lengths you’ll go to achieve pleasure, the stinging reminders of your desire. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?” He tests a finger, then two, knuckles deep in your doughy walls as you writhe on the bed. “Good girl.”

“Mmph,” you feel your eyes roll back at the soft praise, thighs tensing as he begins to pump his digits in and out. “Faster, ah– please.” Your moans are muffled against his arm, but he complies nonetheless, fingers curling and hitting the spot that drums against your heartbeat, that rattles through your brain.

The second he brings his lips to your clit, you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Hair slick with sweat, your hands roam through his own wet strands, gripping and tugging him closer, closer, closer. He suckles hungrily, his last meal long forgotten as he pushes you further over the edge.

All at once, you see stars. You’re unsure whether you’re keeping quiet like he asked or sobbing loudly, the tidal wave of pleasure consumes you whole, stomach going taut and twisting as he allows you to ride out your orgasm. With the toy slowly edging you all night, this bliss feels fully merited— is exactly what you deserve after being subjected to his teasing for so long.

Shouto only lets up when your entire body has gone slack and you push his head away. Bringing his fingers up to your supple lips, he watches hungrily as you slurp at your own slick.

His eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, pooling with eagerness and a longing for more; he brings a thumb to his chin to wipe at your juices— licks a long stripe up the digit to fully savor you. The image is immodest at the least, animalistic at most.

It reignites your own thirst immediately.

Though you’re exhausted, core spasming from overuse, you find yourself tugging at his waistband, pulling him close so he can sheath himself inside you in one fell thrust.

“Fuck,” his voice is husky, groan stifled in the nook of your shoulder. “Still so fucking tight for me.” The only sounds that fill the air are your joint moans, the squeaky springs of the mattress, and the headboard clanging against the wall— sweat soaked skin as his hips snap against you.

“Ah— please, please, please,” it seems to be the only phrase that falls from your loose lips. Every jerk sends shocks across your damp flesh, vision going foggy as he sends your brain spinning. Once again, you teeter at the edge, so close. Your legs wrap across his back, digging into the globes of his ass to pull him impossibly closer.

“What do you want?” He grunts into your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your neck and across your chest. It may leave a mark or two, but it’s something to worry about later.

“I–”At this point, you’re just a teary, blubbering mess, “please, Shou– need your cum.” You manage the words, knowing exactly what effect they have. His movements quicken, pace faltering as he chases his own high.

And then, you’re both seeing stars. With one final shudder, his cock twitches, and then he’s spilling into you. Your groans intertwine, his a loud sigh of your name, you sobbing helplessly.

Once he finally stills, he collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving. His fingers smooth at your matted hair, whispers of ‘so good for me’ and ‘fuck, baby’ into the shell of your ear as he allows your body— still trembling uncontrollably— time to regain composure.

Now you remember why you agreed to this little game of his.

–

“I hope you feel better,” Fuyumi hugs you goodbye, though your eyes are glazed over in post-coital bliss. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet your own, anyways. But they couldn’t have heard; you were quiet. Weren’t you?

As you stumble into the passenger side of Shouto’s pristine Model S, you catch the gruff comment Enji murmurs to Shouto,

“You two could stand to be a bit less obvious next time.”

#weese's birthday bash #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha smut #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #mha smut #shouto #shoto todoroki x reader #smut #tw: overstimulation

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666dmtrscu · 3 years

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Nocturne (Part I)

Cassandra x maiden

Summary: A retelling of the last hours between two lovers. Oh fate, fate, fate. // In other words, sad hours for Cassandra and her beloved.

Cassandra Dimitrescu was not one to hesitate, but for some reason she could not make her hand, that was now resting on the doorknob, move in a twisting motion. It wasn't hard to open a door now, was it? Especially for someone like herself. So why couldn't she just open the door to the maidens' room?

She tried moving her hand once more, but to no avail. What was wrong with her? All of a sudden, Cassandra Dimitrescu was hesitating to enter her partner's room. The same room she had entered, exited, and stayed in so many times before.

To think it has only been eight delicious years... It didn't feel like it was enough.

...

Should she even wake Luna in the first place?

By Miranda — and speak of the devil— how silly of her to even ask herself that, of course she should. She had to.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she gathered the courage to finally twist the doorknob and quickly step inside the room, the door shutting behind her with a soft click.

The room was dimly lit by the dying fireplace on the other side; it was getting cold as well. Cassandra considered reigniting the fire, but she knew it wouldn't be necessary. Time was running out.

As soon as her eyes landed on the figure sleeping away, she dreaded what was to come next.

Upon silently reaching the bed, she hesitated again. Not knowing what to do with herself, she decided to sit at the edge of the bed and stare at how the maiden's chest rose and fell with every breath. She stayed like this for some time, entranced with how the other woman looked so striking and peaceful at the same time. Even as she dreamed, she was mesmerizing. She let her gaze travel down the maiden's body and hummed appreciatively at how the sheets accentuated her curves. Get it together, she told herself. There was a time for such things, and now was not it. Instead, she took the maiden's hand in hers and caressed the back of it with her thumb.

“Luna,” she whispered softly, using her free hand to lightly shake the woman. It took her several tries, but finally woke her from a seemingly very deep sleep.

Always such a heavy sleeper.

She was going to give the maiden an apologetic smile, until she remembered the reason why she had come to wake her in the first place.

The maiden groaned and shifted in place, finding the hand that was caressing hers and giving it a gentle squeeze as a way of greeting. She sat up and groggily mumbled something to the other woman, who held back a snort and asked her to repeat herself. Giving her a faux look of annoyance, she repeated her words clearly enough this time. The hoarseness of her voice almost made Cassandra shiver.

“I said,” started the maiden, enunciating every word slowly and clearly. “Why on earth are you waking me up this late in the night?”

Instead of giving an immediate reply, the brunette pondered over the question and tried to come up with the best- no, the most gentle way to deliver the blow. As futile as it may sound to other ears. She came to the conclusion that there simply was no way around it.

Not anymore.

It wasn't as if the maiden had not been told, but for Cassandra, neither her or her family were sure of when or how it would all occur. Everything was happening too fast and too soon. This train of thought brought a frown upon her features and induced the same hollow feeling in her chest that she had felt far too many times in the past four hours.

There was no other way of saying it.

“It is time,” said the vampire to the maiden.

How fast three words could change the entire atmosphere of a room was beyond her. The maiden's silence however, was heavier than anything else in that moment. Not even the gnawing image of Mother Miranda engraved in her mind made Cassandra feel as much fear and anguish as she did in those almost eternal moments of silence. She was about to fall back into her misfortunate thoughts until the maiden's voice, uneven and unbelievably small, broke the silence.

“What?”

The same hollow feeling returned and Cassandra couldn't bring herself to look the maiden in the eye. Instead she focused on the hand she held in hers. “Mother received a call-”

“Oh.”

It clicked. She knew, she understood.

Once again, silence fell heavily over the two.

Both Cassandra and the maiden had rued the day the glass globe they lived in would be shattered. By the person who had provided it in the first place, no less. Contrary to popular belief, the maiden did not feel trapped in Castle Dimitrescu. Not when she first arrived, not when she first looked into wickedly beautiful golden eyes, and especially not now with the woman who sat before her with a haunting look written all over her face.

Before coming to the castle, she had been alone, abandoned and forgotten, all because of something as trivial and innocent as a kiss in broad daylight. She had come with the promise of death, which in some way, was fulfilled. She was an entirely different person now. So no, she did not feel trapped or scared in the cold embraces of her lover, nor inside the great, big place that reeked of death.

In fact, she felt the exact opposite. A sane person would become insane the moment they knew her and the others had willingly decided to stay in such a place and fall in love of all things. But she felt like she belonged, like there was no need to run anymore. She felt loved, she felt wanted. She felt free knowing her new family wouldn't judge her for who she was. She felt... at home. She was home.

But now she had to leave.

Cassandra's voice broke through the silence and the maiden's train of thought.

“You should get ready, Lu,” she said in a somber tone as she stood from her spot on the edge of the bed and slowly made her way to the fireplace. She fiercely rubbed her hands together as she kneeled in front of it. “There isn't much time.”

Wordlessly, the maiden complied. She gathered her belongings quietly and swiftly, although she tried to not make it seem like she wanted to leave. She would very much rather stay and she supposed she could, if things were any different. If they had more time... Luna grimaced at the reminder. Time seemed to slip into every thought and conversation lately.

The thorn on everyone's side.

———

Her clothes for the situation at hand were not so different from her usual. Certainly more suited to run or fight in if necessary. While she would normally wear a white sundress or a white blouse with trousers, now she wore a suit of sorts, devoid of color. In another life, she might have been an assassin of sorts. The thought almost made her chuckle.

Her, an assassin or a warrior? Please, not now and not ever. She couldn't even hurt a fly. Literally.

She should, however, wear black more often. It brought out the silver in her eyes in a way that was almost haunting.

Checking in the mirror for wrinkles that she already knew weren't there, she let out a shaky breath. She looked to her bedroom door. One step out of that door and there was no turning back.

“Cass?”

When there was no immediate response, Luna turned hesitantly to look at her lover, who now seemed to tense slightly and take massive interest in dusting off the bookshelf.

“Cassandra.”

“Yes, dear?” The Dimitrescu now fixed her gaze on a single book.

The maiden's eyes snapped to her hands, which were reflexively flexing. It was a nervous tick of hers, she knew. Despite her controlled exterior and sharp gaze, it was always the smaller hints that gave her away. She was just as anxious and upset. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You're going to live, right?”

Cassandra all but snapped her head in the maiden's direction, her eyes blown momentarily wide. As her features softened, she let out a saddened melodic laugh. “Luna Samos, your life is currently at great risk and yet, you ask if I am going to live through this?”

“Obviously.”

“Why,” she asked incredulously as she crossed her arms. There was a faint shimmer in her eyes that would go unnoticed if it weren't the maiden who she was talking to.

The maiden almost replied with an equally incredulous tone when a knock came to the door and a voice called out from the other side.

“Cassandra,” said the brunette's younger sister, Daniela, with a hint of uncertainty.

Cassandra refused to wipe whatever tears were starting to form. Instead, she maintained eye contact with the maiden and cleared her throat before replying.

“What is it?”

“Mother wanted to remind you that we should hurry.”

The other woman let out a defeated sigh. “Five minutes, Dani.”

A tsk was the response and then she was gone.

The two women stayed looking into each other's eyes intensely for a minute or two. Both were very stubborn, that they knew, but they also knew there wasn't enough time.

After finding her voice, the maiden broke the silence first.

“There is too much I want to say. To you, about us. About," she gestured wildly with her hands in the air. "Tonight. About yesterday, about tomorrow, about the day after tomorrow. About everything, Cassandra.”

She tore her gaze away from her dark clad lover. If it was any other night, she mused, they would have been matching for an occasion such as a date.

“I know,” said the brunette turning to face the window, arms still crossed.

Cassandra never looked and sounded so defeated. The maiden wondered what it was that she was looking out to.

“I don't know where to begin.”

“Then don't begin at all.”

“But I want to,” the maiden continued.

Cassandra stayed looking out the window for a moment. When she finally turned, her pale cheeks were already streaked with red, but when she spoke her voice was firm. “The thing is, you don't have to, I already know,” she said. “Eight years... we might as well be married. So you don't need to say it. I will always know.”

The maiden had already moved to embrace Cassandra by the time she finished.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra x maiden #re8 fic #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #house dimitrescu #re8 #resident evil village

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zbops · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Bonding Time

Sero Hanta x gn!Reader

It's Sero's birthday, and he, like everyone all across the globe, is stuck at home. But you being the amazing friend you are, bought a new game for the two of you to play online! Sure, you're not great at this genre of gaming, but that's kinda the fun of it, right?

Warnings: mainly sweet but ever so slight hint of spice at the end!

Tagging: @smittenkitten143 because she inspired me to keep working on this <3

---------------

The weeks leading up to Hanta's birthday were lackluster at best. Being stuck at home because of the virus was more tiring than he expected. Yeah, he was excited to play video games for a couple weeks, but those weeks rolled into a month, then two, then three. He had to find a way to train without leaving his parents house. This was Hanta's last year at UA! He was supposed to be training with his friends! Not doing lessons online and throwing his tape at his younger siblings. At the very least, he wished he could have been quarantined with Mina or Denki or you.

Since your first year at UA, Hanta always envied that you lived in your own apartment. Your family lived so far away, you kind of had to. Sharing a dorm at school made it easy to get close to you. Hanta loved getting to hang out during game and movie nights, sharing snacks and laughing far too loudly and inappropriately! The two of you shared several favorite video games!

But now you were back home, on the other side of the country, texting when you could. You always apologized about not being able to play online often because your family's wifi wasn't strong when you were all home.

It didn't matter to Hanta too much though. He knew you'd respond as soon as you were able!

So waking up the morning of his birthday, seeing messages from all your friends, but nothing from you, wasn't exactly a surprise, though it was momentarily disappointing. Everyone else sent well wishes and lots of love~ It was a little bittersweet; Hanta wished he could have his birthday at the dorms with everyone.

A knock came sharp on his bedroom door, "Hanta-chan! Papa and onee-chan have started breakfast! Come down!" His little sibling yelled.

Hanta grinned and laughed, "I'll be down in a sec!" He could hear footsteps padding quickly on the hardwood floor away from his door. He stretched his arms, and arched his back, then rolled out of bed. The pajama bottoms from the last week were still technically clean, so he slipped them over his boxer briefs, then picked a plain grey shirt from his chest of drawers. He snatched his phone from the bed and slipped it in his pocket.

As bummed as he was, Hanta was actually very excited. Birthdays with his family were always fun: a special birthday breakfast, presents with lunch, and the birthday kid's favorite meal~ They weren't exactly wealthy, but they took care of each other. The entire day was dedicated to the birthday kid, their parent's birthdays included!

Hanta's little siblings met him first in the living room, both hugging him together. "Happy birthday, Hanta!" They sang.

"Happy birthday, darling," his mother said, sneaking a kiss to his forehead while Hanta was distracted.

If his grin could get bigger, it would have. Hanta jokingly wiped the kiss away, giddy laughter bubbling up within him.

Okay, yeah, he missed birthdays at the dorm, but Hanta missed this too. The little ones separate from their older brother to run into the too-small kitchen. How all six of them fit in this house together, the Sero's couldn't fathom, but they loved it and worked with it.

Hanta followed the sweet smell of thick, fluffy pancakes and warm, black tea into the kitchen. His father and older sister both greeted him in chorus.

His father mused, "I can't believe my boy is already a year older," He slid an egg onto a bowl of rice.

"You say that every year!" Hanta's siblings all said, not at the same time, but in the exact same tone of voice, teasing their aging father. Hysterical laughter followed.

A trill came from Hanta's pajama pocket. He wiped a tear that threatened to fall as he reached for his phone. His heart almost jumped out of his chest! It was you! Finally!!

'BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING, go check your console 😘'

'whad u do' Hanta texted back with a soft smile.

He excused himself from the kitchen, taking the steps up to his room two by two. The console turned on with a rolling tune, and after boot-up, Hanta was greeted with a message:

'Happy birthday, Sero! You're finally up here with the other adults! Download this soon so we can play together tonight!'

Attached was the new survival, co-op game: Father Son Bonding. You and a friend will play together as a father and son against the world! Fight bandits and find out what happened to the matriarch of the family! It's time to take this new world into your own hands, and come to understand each other, one Bonding Moment at a time!

Hanta gasped, quickly setting the game to download. 'I cant believe u got me a new game!! Wher did u come up w/ the money??' he texted.

'I did a lot of chores at home since we've been stuck lol text me after dinner so we can play! My parents agreed to take the little ones out to my grandparents house for the night so we can get online!'

Rereading the words over and over, Hanta thought he might cry. Not only did you use your own money on him, but you went out of your way to ask your parents for such a big favor, just so the two of you could spend some time together online for his birthday.

How did Hanta get so lucky to have you in his life? He wanted to kiss you more now than he already did! How could anyone be so sweet?? Hanta thought back to all the days you shared your lunch with him just because he said he missed home cooked meals, he remembered how you would help him cheat during game nights, going so far as to distract Denki with a flirtatious lean to secure Sero's win. The two of you would pair up on the training grounds, you would taunt him with your speed, and he would chase you down, trying to tape you up. Hanta really missed hearing your laugh.

The rest of the day couldn't go by fast enough!! Lunch was amazing, and his homemade presents from his siblings were adorable: his younger siblings having drawn Hanta in his hero suit, his older sibling custom painting a pair of shoes themed after his costume, and his parents having bought him a customized hoodie with his hero name on it. They all caught him completely by surprise!

Dinner went by both too slowly and too quickly. This was his first birthday with his family since middle school, so of course he wanted to savor it, but he had a video game and a very cute classmate waiting for him! How's a guy supposed to keep from getting impatient??

Hanta excused himself from the dining room first, hugging each of his family members and thanking them for such a great birthday. His mother commented on the game he mentioned earlier, saying to tell Kaminari the family said hi, but he corrected her with your name instead. The chorus of 'oh's and 'ah's didn't fail to make him blush. Hanta could hear his older sister ask about you to the rest of the family as he took the stairs to his room. She's missed a lot since she's been in university!

'i j got 2 my room itll j be a sec!' he texted.

'I'm waiting for you bday boi! Send me an invite when you get it open!'

The game started with a cutscene: Father cradles his infant son in his arms. His elderly mother puts her hand on his shoulder and smiles. Through the montage of years to follow, the now Grandmother helps them work together, though the bond is fragile. Father and Son argue much of the time because they can't get on the same page; they are all cramped together in a small bunker. 16 years of storms rage overhead, and on Son's birthday, Grandmother steps out into the storm and isn't seen again. Father and Son live an estranged year together, before Son decides he's had enough and sneaks out of the bunker, fleeing into the night.

The tutorials start…

"Geez! I should've started out as player 2! At least as the son I'd get to run around outside! You're getting to see the world before me!" Sero laughed into his headset mic, walking the Father into the kitchen to make an apology meal for his Son.

"Don't worry," you sang back, "I'm not seeing much. I'm literally looking for clues in a swamp; there's nothing going on."

Sero was in the middle of a cooking minigame when a scream was heard in-game, cutting his combos short, a split second before- "WHAT IS THAT??" screeched in his headset.

"What happened?!"

"THERE'S A MONSTER IN THE SWAMP!"

And the game was off! Sero's character ran outside to aid his Son, the two fought off an oversized, mutant crocodile, and made a pact to go out and find Grandmother. Father was clearly skeptical, but couldn't let his Son go alone!

The next five hours were spent fighting off bandits, rescuing you when you wandered off, and Hanta being made inventory manager. Each quadrant of the map was separated into level caps, and the two of you tried to stay in your lane, but it was hard when you wanted to check out new landmarks! And you weren't exactly great at these kinds of survival/first person shooter games…

But it was still fun! Listening to you freak out when you were surprised by enemies, hearing your silent gasps at new environments; Hanta didn't play with you for the achievements, but for the story and the entertainment. Playing games with you was about enjoying each other's company, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't take him a while to come to terms with that. He's ashamed to say it used to infuriate him that he had to babysit you in more intense games.

Playing games with you was a different kind of fun that he had come to appreciate.

As the two of you stared out into the ruined expanse of what was once a bustling city, you gasped, "YO, I see a tank!!" You said, guiding Son down the hill to jump atop the hulking, metal, rust-bucket.

"Dude, that is a tank! How long do you think this was sitting here before it rusted over like this? Yo, it's not even falling apart! Do tanks just not fall apart?"

"I don't know! We should totally look it up when we get done,"

"We're gonna forget,"

"Yeah, you're right!"

You continue to bounce around the top of the tank, looking desperately for any sort of use function attached to it while Hanta checks the map. "Looks like we're close to the settlement just up the street. We can save and sell inventory stuff we don't need."

"Go on ahead," you said, "I'm working on finding a way to get into this tank!"

"You can't get in it," Hanta laughed, "this game doesn't have mounts."

"I'mma trick the system!"

"No you won't!"

"I will, watch me!"

"There's no mounts in this game! Let's just go save!"

"Nah, nah, nah! I'm gonna cheat the system and get a tank!"

"Get off the tank, and let's go!"

"No! You're not my dad, and you can't make me!" You cackled, firing off your pistol bullets into the air.

"I am literally your dad! Get off the tank!" Hanta could barely enunciate through his laughter as he watched your character turn to face his, silence over the headset.

You suddenly laughed harder, a loud and hearty sound, like it came from deep within your soul. It filled Hanta's brain, coating his heart in sweet honey. Had your laugh always been this filling? He sees your avatar bounce between standing and crouching, "Alright, Dad, gawd!" You drawled, dipping your voice into as low a tone as you could muster, following it with a breathy chuckle, trying to calm your laughter.

The two of you swapped giggles back and forth as you ran down the dilapidated street.

Finally reaching the settlement, the two of you watched a short cutscene before exploring the ruins and talking to citizens. You'd often interrupt Hanta with teases of 'Oh, Dad, look at this!', 'Hey, Dad, I found something you're gonna like!', and 'Dad, this guy just gave me a quest! Let's do it soon!'

While Hanta worked on selling product to an NPC, he saw Son run by his screen. "Hey, what're you doing? I still need to go through your inventory,"

"I'm just gonna check stuff out for a sec."

"Stay in town," he said, going back to the NPC.

It didn't feel like it'd been much more than a minute that passed when he heard you gasp over his headset.

"What'd you find?"

You exhaled a slow breath, "Just the most beautiful canyon ever."

Canyon?

"I'm gonna go look around for a sec."

Hanta quickly exited the screen he was in to pull up the map screen. You were already so far away! How did you get so far ahead of him? "Hey, whoa, I told you to stay in town!"

"It's ok! This area looks abandoned," you replied, not helping your friends nerves at all. "Oh, I found a note!"

Your character must have said something because Father was automatically prompted to respond: "To think this mine was running great just a few years before you were born, and now it's like this..."

"I'm gonna go check it out,"

Hanta wanted to scream, but he couldn't take the chance of freaking his family out, not this late at night! "Don't! Don't go in! At least let me get to where you are!" He's already started running toward your marker.

"It's okay, the place is abandoned! It's probably for a later quest,"

As you walked into the old mine, Hanta was racing through respawning hoards of monsters and bandits. He's amazed you made it through, but he has to use two of his health kits by the time he covers half your route.

"I found something," he hears you say. "It's a weapon and a note! Want me to read it to you?"

"How did you get there with all of these mobs??"

"Very carefully," you teased. "Actually, I'll read it when you get here. The weapon is cool though! I don't have the right ammo for it, but you probably do."

"You picked them up??"

"Yeah, it's all good!"

He sighs, "Just come outside. We'll walk back to town and save." Hanta heals himself after a fourth mob battle, seeing the canyon coming up in the distance.

"Alrighty, Dad, you got it!" You laugh.

There's silence as the two of you walk toward the opening of the mine. "I'm almost there," the birthday boy says, leisurely looking around the canyon himself. You were right, there were no enemies at all in the canyon. Some old mining tracks lead into a small tunnel, an old rusted cart, empty, lays on its side where it'd had been toppled over by the 16-year storm. Hanta could see the love that the developers put into the visuals, because you could actually see tracks in the rocks and dirt where water would have rushed by. The textures were top notch!

"Very funny, Dad."

Hanta paused, confused, he just set his controller down to text Kaminari back. "What's funny?"

"You put the bridge up, har har, come back and pull the lever."

"Bridge? Is there a bridge in there?"

"Yes, there's a bridge. The canyon cuts into the mine, like you've clearly seen. So let down the bridge,"

"I'm still outside, checking out the old buildings,"

You gasp, "Oh crap! I heard voices!"

"What?? Are there bandits in there after all??"

"OH NO! OH SHIT-OH NO!"

"Talk to me! What's going on?!"

"IT'S AN AMBUSH!" Your voice was raised, trying not to scream. "They hit me with a grenade! Dad! HELP!"

Sero tossed his cell phone behind him into his bed, snatching up his controller, "I'll be there in a sec! Take a health kit!"

"I used up all my health kits!!"

"YOU WHAT??"

"DAD!!"

Hanta ran into the mine, meeting with a group of seven bandits. They had much more powerful weapons than you and he did! Hanta had to be strategic and slow as he fought back, moving further and further into the dark tunnel.

"I found somewhere to hide!"

"Good! Just stay there!" Hanta yelled into his mic. "Don't let them down you until I get closer! We didn't save at that town!"

"WE DIDN'T SAVE??"

"NO, YOU RAN OFF!"

Hanta was sweating in his desk chair! These guys were clearly not supposed to be messed with yet! Why couldn't you have stayed closer to town?

He checked his map, you were down a winding path not too far from him! It shouldn't take long to get to you; you just had to defend yourself for a little bit longer. He picked up one of the downed enemy’s rifles, equipped the more powerful weapon and continued.

"I see the bridge! I'm lowering it now! It'll just be another minute."

"Hurry!" You cried, Hanta could hear a barrage of gunshots ahead. "They're getting really close to my hiding spot! I've only got 13 health left!!"

Five enemies greeted Hanta at the bridge. Even with the new gun, they were still more powerful. The battle was hard fought, and he took some serious injuries, but one of the body's dropped grenades!

"Hurry! DadDY, HURRY!!" You sounded at the verge of tears! "DADDY PLEASE!" You whined.

Your tone sent a chill down Hanta's spine, his crotch tingling, reliving the moment in his mind. He wiped sweat from his forehead, licking his lips. "I got you, baby, hang on."

His voice came surprisingly deep, and he heard your breathing hitch.

Rounding the corner to your tunnel, Hanta threw a grenade at the mob of 10 dudes you accrued. This took out 2 guys nearest you, he had to assume you'd burned most of their lifepoints down before he showed up. The second grenade took the next five down, and the two of you together decimated the last three. Your health was barely up at 2 when Father approached you, dropping two health kits at Son’s feet.

The two of you breathed heavily in each other's headsets, as if you had fought the mob yourselves. You took the kits and began healing yourself, a breathy chuckled passed your lips, "Point taken: I won't be going that far away again,"

Hanta could hear you, but his vision was far away, imagining standing next to you instead of Son. The way you would look up into his eyes from under your lashes, a sheen of sweat across your cheeks.

"You saved our entire game, Sero," your breathing finally regulated to where he couldn't hear it anymore. "But at least this was good and exciting, right?"

The birthday boy shared a chuckle with you, "It was very exciting." He could feel the strain in his pants he was all too familiar with. "Let's get back to town so we can save and go to bed." Hanta adjusted his pajamas before running ahead of you toward the mine entrance.

"Yeah, let's do that," you agreed. "I'll ask my parents tomorrow what I can do for us to be able to play again!"

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tres-spades-hotel · 4 years

Note

I am not sure you are taking requests or not, but I got this idea and I really wished you could write something for it, 'about Eisuke falling in love with his secretary and make it a bit dramatic'. I know it may be a lot to ask but all your written works have been so beautiful, I just had to ask you. No problem if you couldn't do it :).

Hi there! I’m so glad you sent a request! Yes my requests are open, I only just realised that I haven’t put it anywhere on my blog that they are open... oops! Anyway, I’ve never written a secretary story before so this was definitely a challenge, thanks to @flatsuke and @leoamber66 for helping me find a solid plot to use. And thanks to @lin-ful for just being amazing! This story is 8000+ words so that’s why it took some time to get this to you. I hope this is what you wanted, if not I hope you at least appreciate the time and effort I took to writing this. Enjoy!

Keep Me By Your Side

They say patience is a fool’s game. Waiting for love will weigh your heart down heavily like an anchor in the ocean. But saying ‘I love you’ to Eisuke Ichinomiya will get you nowhere fast. What does he know about love? Kindness? Happiness?

He was young when he was made CEO of the Ichinomiya Group. He was even younger when he lost his mother to the scythe of death, when he lost his sister to a different, better, whole, and lovable family. When he lost his father to the mist of uncertainty. What could a man filled with emptiness from a traumatic childhood, know about love?

He’s arrogant but he’s suave. A businessman through and through. Ruthless and cunning. Intelligent and sarcastic. Sweet-toothed with hidden compassion. A passionate hater of peas. A wonderful smile when he is genuine. And believe me, I have only ever seen this smile once in my whole career.

He never gets drunk and he spends more time at his auctions than with women. No woman other than me has stayed longer than a night at his penthouse. No other woman knows that Eisuke prefers warm weather to cold. No other woman knows how he likes his coffee: sweet using three sugar cubes and milk. I still remember the first time I made him coffee.

‘It’s adequate.’

‘Really?!’

‘Do it again. It needs more milk.’

‘Okay!’

I remember when he told me about his life. I remember his touch when he wiped away dewy tears. Telling me that it was a long time ago. That he just wants the truth. Closure.

That’s why, as his secretary, I have to be there for him. Because Mr Ichinomiya, founder, and owner of the Tres Spades Hotels around the globe, the mastermind behind the black market auctions and my boss, has brought me down to my knees…

In love.

I am in love with Eisuke Ichinomiya.

I want to shout it out to the world.

Scream it at the top of my lungs as if his name is my breath.

But I can’t.

Because I am only his secretary.

‘Here’s your schedule for today. After lunch, you have a meeting with a potential investor for the new Tres Spades Restaurants. He wants to propose different menus and VIP arrangements plus staff requirements for the restaurant in Sydney, Australia.’ I hand Eisuke his tablet and a folder filled with paperwork.

‘Hm. And the auctions?’

‘All set. Baba is still looking for the specific item that you requested but we have plenty of other materials to sell tonight. Soryu has sent the invitations and Mamoru will get back to you about the increasing police activity here lately. And Ota… well he’s being Ota.’

‘Pfft, of course he is.’ Eisuke looks up at me.

‘And Luke?’

‘He nearly fondled my collarbones… again. But he is ready to proceed with the surgery this week.’

Eisuke narrows his eyes at me.

‘Tell Luke to come see me before then. And you know better than to visit Luke immediately after a surgery.’

I rub the back of my head nervously.

‘Well, you told me to see him right away so… I was just following orders.’ Eisuke sighs in response.

‘Oh! And Luke told me to tell you that he needs another x-ray of your collarbones.’

‘Why? I already gave him one a few months ago.’ The annoyance is written all over his features.

‘Because he left it in the other clinic in New York. Luke doesn’t have an x-ray here in Tokyo.’

He unconsciously pouts at his laptop screen.

‘Isn’t one enough?’

‘Apparently not…’ It takes everything in me not to stroke his head to comfort him.

‘What about your collarbones?’

‘When we got back, while you were still in London, Luke did a medical examination on me so he got an x-ray of mine.’

‘Remind me to ban him from using the x-ray machine.’ I reply with a giggle instead of words.

‘Vivian.’ He says with urgency.

I salute military style.

‘Yes sir!’

‘… You would make a clumsy soldier.’

‘Hey!’

‘If there’s nothing else, get me coffee and leave.’

I bow and attend to my duties. After giving Eisuke his coffee, I head down to the lobby to find Mr Kenzaki. The lobby is busy as always with staff running around attending to the whims of the guests. New guests checking in and old guests leaving satisfied by their stay. The Tres Spades never disappoints.

I spot Mr Kenzaki by the reception. I catch his eye and he walks towards me by the penthouse elevator.

‘Ah Vivian, is there something you need?’

‘Yes, the Boss will need the conference room after lunch. We will need it for a few hours.’

‘Of course, I will have it set up. Do you need the projector?’

I think for a moment.

‘I’m not entirely sure but set it up anyway. Better to have it on and not use it, than need it when it’s off.’

He smiles warmly at me.

‘I understand. I am glad to see that you have become a capable and worthy secretary to Mr Ichinomiya.’ I blush at his teasing words.

‘Thank you. But we both know that Boss would choose you over me any day of the week.’

‘Haha, I’m not quite sure he is that attached.’ I highly doubt that actually, but I don’t tell him that.

‘The guest is Mr Lance and he will be arriving in a few hours. Make sure the lobby is prepared. Boss and I will come down to greet him.’

‘Very well. Make sure to take breaks every now and again Vivian.’

‘Yes, I will.’ Mr Kenzaki has always been obedient and thoughtful. I admire his dedication to Eisuke and the others plus he was a huge help to me when I first started working at the Tres Spades. He’s almost like an uncle or a grandfather (I’m sorry Mr Kenzaki! I promise you’re still young!) to me and the others.

I return to the elevator, swipe my key card, press no. 51 and watch the metal doors close. Turning around, I watch the outside world grow smaller and smaller as the elevator pulls up. There was a time when I was bewildered by the sheer size of this hotel. Over 50 floors of suites and boutiques and shops and the auctions all bundled into one.

Funnily enough, I worked with Eisuke’s adopted father, Akira Ichinomiya before I came to work for Eisuke. Akira took me in when I was first starting out in business and he taught me the ropes. He introduced me to Eisuke a little after Akira retired and, although he retired, he still worked within the Ichinomiya Group to make things a little easier for Eisuke. We met a few times over the years before Akira decided to send me to Japan to work for Eisuke as his secretary instead. I was more than miffed to hear of his decision without consulting me, especially since we had gotten so close with each other. I lost my grandfather when I was young so Akira ended up filling in that void.

Akira assured me that Eisuke would teach me more about how the Ichinomiya Group runs and I couldn’t say more. With my salary increased and bags packed, I got into the private jet and waited to see my new boss.

Looking back, I think I put up a bit too much of a fuss because Eisuke became a wonderful teacher, and a great friend. He listened to me and my problems even though he never needed to.

‘I have to make sure that my employees are at their best. Physically and mentally. Hearing your small problems is nothing to the value you are as my secretary.’

His words back then bring a whole new meaning to me now. I hope he means them in the way that I think they mean. That he cares about me.

A vibration courses through me as my pager goes off. I pluck it out of my belt and answer it.

‘Hello?’

‘Vivian! Where are you? Come to the penthouse! I have something to show you!’ Baba’s excited voice reminds me of a child but I wait to see what he has in store.

‘Ta da!’ Baba’s jazz hands do nothing to appease the sight.

A large statue of Venus towers over us all as we gape at it.

‘How did you get it in here?’ I ask, bewildered.

‘That’s a secret.’

‘Did you break it in half?’ Ota asks next.

‘No! This is priceless!’

‘Then how did you bring it into the lounge?’ Soryu says.

‘That is also a secret!’

‘He used the helicopter and the window.’ Mamoru mumbles from the couch.

‘Oooooohhhhhh’ Ota and I say at the same time. Baba pouts in response.

‘Mamo! Don’t go giving away my secrets!’

‘That’s not my job. That’s Ayase‘s job.’

‘This isn’t what I asked for Baba.’ Eisuke glares at him after inspecting the statue.

‘Ah yes, well. The item belongs to a Mr Jason Taylor Lance. I believe his father is coming to the hotel today.’

‘He is.’ I say.

‘Fine, I’ll get it from him instead.’

‘What is this thing you’re looking for anyway Eisuke?’ Ota asks.

‘It’s a collection of gems found at a temple in Egypt. Rumours of the gems suggest that a whole manner of good things will happen to those who possess them. I figured they would go for a very high price at the auctions.’ Eisuke smirks.

‘They were unearthed a few years ago and have found their way to Japan.’ Eisuke explains. Baba sighs.

‘Well I need more time to find the exact location.’

‘Fine.’

‘Ota can you appraise the statue for me?’

‘Okay.’ He goes back to his room while I prepare coffee and tea. When he comes back, he puts on white rubber gloves and uses a magnifying glass around the statue. I check my emails, replying to some and deleting others when Ota quips:

‘It’s fake.’

‘WHAT! Are you sure!?’

‘Yeah. It was created with cheap materials. An amateur’s work.’ He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone that I don’t comprehend it for a moment.

‘You would never know just looking at it.’

‘Yeah but if you sell it then the person buying it would most likely be an art collector and they appraise everything.’ He sits down and takes out his phone.

‘Unlucky Baba. Just like your sex life.’

‘Hey!’

‘Baba take that thing out.’ Eisuke orders.

‘Alright, alright. Sor help me out.’

‘Why me?’ Soryu and Baba heave the statue out of the penthouse.

Eisuke and I have lunch and then we venture out to the lobby. Just as we exit the elevator, Mr Lance enters the hotel. He is a big man wearing a white suit and a silver chain around his neck. His bald head shines in the glow of the lights and I can hear his shoes squeak against the marbled floor. He spots us and smiles.

‘Mr Lance, I am glad you could make it.’ Eisuke plasters on his signature business smile, holds his hand out for a shake and I bow from beside him.

‘Eisuke, please call me Connor. If we are going to be business partners, we should at least start with first names.’ He wraps both Eisuke and I in a bear hug and I nearly gag from the heavy cologne smell. Mr Lance is overly-friendly and I can already tell that this meeting is going to be a long one.

When he lets us go, Eisuke straightens his suit.

‘Please follow me to the conference room.’ Eisuke walks away while I turn to Mr Lance.

‘Shall I carry your briefcase for you, sir?’ I ask politely.

‘Of course, please.’ He looks at me for a moment. During my time as Eisuke’s secretary, I have met many individuals who have looked at me in inappropriate ways but Eisuke is always there to make it clear my place by his side. Still, I always stand my ground. Even now, as Mr Lance studies my face when he suddenly gestures to the case on the floor and follows Eisuke.

I’m not sure what that look was on his face but something tells me that this meeting will twist horribly.

‘Of course the staff will be perfect in their presentation but I believe that…’

Mr Lance, despite his ‘we-should-use-first-names’ greeting, is actually quite the businessman. He and Eisuke have been discussing the chain of Tres Spade restaurants and how to profit the most without hindering their guest’s experience.

‘The Tres Spades always delivers in high quality standards. Our guests and what they desire are our top priority.’

‘I have no doubt. Reviews of your hotels are 100% which I completely agree with. But if we could…’

Although, they are at a stale-mate right now. Neither is willing to backdown which is making me nervous. Mr Lance is more insistent on getting his way and so is Eisuke.

‘Sir?’ I finally pipe up from my corner in the room.

‘Hm?’ Eisuke looks at me.

‘May I suggest something?’

‘I hope you do not mind.’ Eisuke says to the man opposite him.

‘Please, a second opinion is always valuable.’ Mr Lance says, nodding in my direction.

‘Well, I suggest that the guests are given a form to personally write down any changes they want or need to the menus. This way, waiters will be more efficient obtaining orders and will limit any commotion that may arise.’

‘Paper forms will get lost or damaged very quickly in a kitchen.’ Eisuke says.

‘Hm, electronic tablets? With the entire menu and a writing stylus or Bluetooth keyboard to use.’

‘The keyboard would be too bulky on a table for guests.’

‘Why not use both? Paper and technology alike. Reservations will need specifications on which apparition the guests would like to use. Spontaneous guests first arriving will be asked immediately before seating if they require the keyboard or stylus.’ Mr Lance suggests.

‘That would be agreeable for me.’ Eisuke says.

‘I also.’ Mr Lance responds.

I breath a quiet sigh of relief. Mr Lance looks at me again before turning to Eisuke.

‘Before I sign this contract, I would like to add something to this.’

‘Such as?’

‘You see, I have a son, who I assume is the same age as your secretary?’

I glance at Eisuke briefly before saying hesitantly, ‘I am 28 years old, sir.’

‘Ah perfect! I have a son who could use a woman like you by his side.’ At those words, both Eisuke and I look at each other. He glares at Mr Lance who does not seem to notice.

‘You are an impeccable woman. In just a few hours, I have seen your beauty, your perfect manners and now your incredible intelligence as a woman working in the business sector of society. I believe you would be a wonderful wife to my son and an even better daughter-in-law to my wife and I.’

‘What are you suggesting, Mr Lance?’ Eisuke could be a snake he spat out those words so viciously.

Mr Lance does not break eye contact with Eisuke. Actually, it seems as if he is not intimidated at all by Eisuke, which, despite his words, is impressive.

‘I will sign this contract. Only if your secretary agrees to marry my son.’

‘That is outrageous, as if I would agree to such a thing.’

‘I am not asking you, Mr Ichinomiya. I am asking her.’

There is so much tension in the air that I can see it. Literally. So if I don’t agree, Mr Lance will walk out of the project. But if I do… While there are other investors, Mr Lance has a large influence on the economy, just as much as Eisuke does. He’s too important to deny.

Maybe I should convince him to sign without the marriage?

‘If I may, Mr Lance, I am hardly worthy of being part of your family. I have no wealth which you would consider rich, neither do I have many connections or the reputation to be married into your family. The public and the media would, quite frankly, have a field day about this marriage which could result in backlash on your family and mine. Please, reconsider this.’ I think half way through, my reasoning became a plea.

‘My secretary has never met your son and neither have I. She has worked for me and my company for years. Her well-being is my responsibility.’

Mr Lance thinks over our arguments calmly, as if he has done this a hundred times to other employers and their employees.

‘Very well. Why don’t I have my son stay at the hotel for a week? They can get to know each other and when she agrees to the marriage, then I will sign the contract. Until then,’ he pushes the folder away, ‘I will not sign. This is final.’

He gets up, leaving his business card, and walks out whistling to himself.

* (EISUKE’S POV)

‘That bastard really believes that he can have whatever he wants just because I need him to invest in the project.’

‘Did he really ask you for Vivian’s hand in marriage?’

‘To his son?’

‘…..’ I don’t answer, I only glare at Baba and Ota who hide behind Vivian and Soryu.

Mr Lance has attempted something that I have never seen in my whole career. A marriage proposal during a business deal? Mixing his personal life with his work is extremely amateur for a man who has been in business for over 30 years.

‘That man’s head must have a few screws loose.’ Mamoru says in an exasperated tone.

‘So what did you say Vivian?’ Ota asks.

‘Well, I tried to tell him that I wouldn’t be a good match for his family but he wouldn’t listen to us. His son is going to be staying in the hotel and I have to attend to him.’ She says, clutching her tablet to her chest.

‘Eisuke, what is he planning?’ Soryu is right to be suspicious. Even I believe that there is something amiss here.

‘Soryu, Mamoru, find out everything you can about this man and the Lancer’s Group.’

‘Lancer’s Group?’

‘Mr Lance’s last name turned into-‘

‘A joke.’ Mamoru finishes her sentence. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Criminal records, illegal activity, anything. Baba see if you can find something in their estates. I want to know what they have in their possession.’

‘Uh, okay Boss…’

‘Ota I want to know what the public think about the Lance family.’

‘Sure.’

I get up from the couch and head to the stairs leading to my penthouse suite.

‘Eisuke, what about the auctions tonight?’

‘The IVC and the auctions will continue as usual. Vivian, coffee.’ I say before turning around and ascending the stairs. I hear Vivian’s high heels against the floor as she rushes to me.

As soon as I get inside, I sit at my office desk and begin researching. If the Lancer Group is as influential as the Ichinomiya Group, they will have more than a few skeletons in their closets. The smell of coffee fills the room as she makes my daily beverage. For a second, I suddenly imagine Vivian making coffee for someone else. Mr Jason Taylor Lance. With his hands on her hips and his lips at her neck, attempting to distract her from leaving. It disgusts me that another man besides me would have Vivian by his side.

I feel myself get up from my chair and wander to Vivian quickly. She pours milk and three sugar cubes into the mug. Her waist feels small in my hands. The hair on her head smells like argan oil. Vivian is actually a small woman, her head is just below my shoulders with high heels on. Her long dark hair is straight with a braided crown around the back of her head. She wears a black suit and a purple blouse plus I notice the thin platinum band around her right ring finger that I gave her when we first met.

I hear her gasp at my touch and she turns around in my arms. Her eyes are wide open with her eyebrows raised.

‘Eisuke?’

Eisuke. She usually says my name when we’re alone. When she’s in work mode, she calls me Boss, like Baba unfortunately, but I still remember how casually she said it the first time.

‘Eisuke, you’ve been working for hours. Take a break for a few minutes, please? What will I do if you faint from exhaustion?’

My hands cup her chubby face. Her trembling fingers hold onto my hands. The only man I see reflecting in her eyes, is me.

I can’t imagine being without Vivian.

Wait. What am I thinking? Or rather what am I doing?!

I let go of her face and turn to leave the room. Her short arms suddenly wrap around my waist as she desperately holds on.

‘Eisuke, I don’t want to leave you.’ Her whisper is enough for me.

But why do I care so much for her? Have I become attached to this woman? This woman who Akira introduced to me? The same shy, bubbly personality who has stuck by my side for more years than I can count? No one has survived as my secretary or assistant ever but Vivian has held on.

What am I feeling inside? This warmth in my chest?

The next day, we prepare for Mr Lance’s son’s appearance at the hotel. Jason Taylor is a famous model and fashion designer who is also known for his… drunk antics.

‘Soryu, make sure your men keep an eye on Taylor and Vivian while they are together. If he dares to make a move on her, I want them to intercept immediately.’

Soryu, sitting in the chair opposite my desk, rubs his head and sighs with exasperation.

‘Eisuke, my men are mobsters, not bodyguards.’

‘Soryu.’

‘I know, I know. I care about her too you know, we all do. She’s the only woman willing to stick by you and your peculiarities.’

‘….’

‘My men will watch out for her and will keep me and you updated on their activities.’

‘Good. Have you found anything incriminating?’

‘There is something. Apparently, the Lance’s have a secret operation in Brazil. It might be money laundering.’

‘Hm, have your men take it. If it is money laundering, the evidence will move the scales in my favour.’ We share a knowing look when Baba’s loud voice booms outside the office door.

‘Boss! He’s here! Come on out!’ I sigh and stand up.

‘Looks like His Highness is in your territory.’

‘We’ll see how long he can stay on his pedestal.’

Vivian meets us in the penthouse lounge. I gave her the morning off to mentally prepare herself for the work that she will have to do. She wears a different outfit that she wears for work which makes me feel better inside.

‘Hey Vivian, why are you wearing that?’ Ota asks. She looks down at her suit then to me.

‘Because I’m still working.’

‘But he’s going to be your fiancé, shouldn’t you greet him looking a little sexier or something appealing?’

‘If you’re so desperate for a fiancée, why don’t you go greet him?’ I spit out at Ota who frowns at me.

‘Baba, Eisuke’s being mean!’

‘You kind of deserved it Ota.’ Baba says.

‘Damn I’m tired. Can we get going now?’ Mamoru yawns.

‘Slacker.’ I hear Soryu mutter under his breath.

‘What you say!?’

‘That’s enough. Vivian.’ I turn to leave and hear Vivian follow. The others grumble along to see who has made an enemy out of me.

Just as the elevator doors open, we hear loud noises and women screaming. In the centre of all attention is JT Lance, a known critic, womaniser, drunkard and an exceptional model and designer. He was already at the top when he was born, but we’ll see how far down to the bottom he falls when I’m done with him.

He seems to be signing autographs on paper and magazines and on women’s bodies as well. Arms, hands, necks, chest, he’ll put his name anywhere. A typical celebrity. He wears a golden chain similar to his father and an open shirt revealing his body.

The lobby quietens down as I step out.

‘Oh, it’s the King!’

‘The King?’

‘Eisuke Ichinomiya?!’

The staff try to handle the guests as much as they can while I stride over to the man receiving his room key.

‘Mr Jason Taylor? It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ I smile at him and shake his hand.

‘Eisuke Ichinomiya, the pleasure is all mine! My dad says good things about you.’

‘Does he now?’ I highly doubt that considering our last encounter.

‘It’s a bit too crowded here to talk. Please follow me to the VIP lounge.’

‘Lead the way.’

In the lounge, JT sits making small talk with Ota and Baba while a female staff member serves drinks. I see her blush as JT winks at her from his spot on the couch.

‘Do you have any tips on how to attract women?’

‘Baba has trouble keeping a woman’s attention for more than a second.’ Ota quips.

‘Haha, the first thing a woman sees in a man is his fashion sense. And yours… is a little less than average.’

‘What?!’

‘You look a tomato with a head, hands and feet. You need to look more manly and dignified.’ He waves his arms around, looking a buffoon. Baba frowns, lost in thoughts.

‘I assume you wear that red… thing daily. Red is a passionate colour and bold to be worn in broad day light. But too much passion turns women off quicker than a light switch. A man should wear blues or purples, like Ota and Eisuke or that scary looking man over there.’ He points to Soryu whose face doesn’t change or move in the slightest.

‘… Um, even that man over there in the grey suit is more manly than you.’ He indicates at Mamoru who smokes at the window.

‘Hmmm, so I need to change my suit? But I love this suit…’ Baba mumbles to himself helplessly as Ota falls over laughing.

I feel Vivian fidget beside me as she gleans the man attempting to take her away from me. JT changes his focus to Vivian.

‘So, this woman is the secretary my dad told me about? What is your name? You are certainly a beautiful gem among the dirt. Have you tried modelling? I’m sure my designs would look stunning on you.’ His insult generates a glare but, like his father, he does not notice.

‘My name is Vivian Grier and I am certain that I am just an average looking woman, sir.’

‘Oh please, you would look divine! And call me JT, it would be plain weird if my future wife calls me so formally.’ I feel my eye twitch at his casual words.

‘She is not your wife yet.’

‘That will be her decision, will it not?’

The tension increases with each passing moment as we size each other up. But Vivian cuts it like a sword slashing in the air.

‘Um, JT why don’t I show you around the hotel? Then you can relax in your suite. I still have work to do unfortunately but we can have dinner tonight in the restaurant if you would like.’ Her suggestion does nothing to quell the fiery rage that is slowly growing inside me.

His smile sickens me to my core.

‘I would be delighted to have that. Ota why don’t you come as well, we can discuss some new designs I’ve created.’

‘Sure. Don’t worry, the old man beside me won’t be coming along.’

‘Hey!’ Baba shouts out as usual. The four of them leave but not before Vivian pats my shoulder and says,

‘I’ll back in the penthouse in a bit, try not to exhaust yourself too much before I arrive.' She smirks and winks at me before rushing to the others.

‘You’re going to do what!?’ The words I didn’t want to hear leave Vivian’s mouth so simply that I shout at her in front of the others in the lounge. She flinches but continues.

‘JT is going to check out of the hotel tomorrow, and I will go with him. I’m going to agree to the marriage and stay with his family at their mansion.’

I can only glare at her, trying to dispel the unshakable resolve in her eyes. But she doesn’t look away nor does she back down.

‘Why?’

‘You and I both know that there is something not quite right here. They’re hiding a corpse underneath all that fame and money and I’m going to find out what.’

‘…..’

‘I know you have been investigating. I’m sure you’ll find the evidence we need but do it before the wedding. I…. One day, I want it to be you and me at the alter Eisuke. Truly.’

My eyes widen. Is she confessing to me? Now?

‘Soryu? Can I take Ryosuke and Samejima with me? For protection and friends to accompany me?’

‘Of course, they will protect with their lives Vivian.’ He takes his phone out and leaves to prepare his puppy and shark.

Vivian turns to me.

‘Eisuke, if I find anything then I will send it to you. And I promise I’ll come back. Come back to you.’

Vivian stands in front of me as the strong woman I know she is. She’s doing what needs to be done.

‘Money laundering.’

‘Huh?’

‘We have evidence that the Lance family is money laundering. Find me something related to it or something else I can use.’ I say. We look at each other for a moment then she smiles at me.

‘Okay.’

‘Good luck Vivian. We’ll be here if you need us.’ Baba pats her shoulder.

‘Don’t get yourself killed.’ Ota says from the couch.

‘Kid, don’t go doing anything stupid now.’ Mamoru puffs on his cigarette.

‘Thank you guys. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’ She smiles and bows to us before turning around.

‘And Eisuke?’

‘What?’

‘On JT’s phone, I saw a message. It said… the body is ready to be disposed.’

‘A body?’

‘Mamoru get on this.’

‘Murder, huh?’

‘Well, he gives lousy advice on fashion anyway.’ Baba says.

‘He was right about your fashion sense though.’ Ota retorts.

‘Kid, send me that message as soon as you can.’

‘I’ll try.’ Vivian’s heels stride out of the lounge. Strong and confident, she leaves with my heart.

The engagement is called on TV. Mr Lance announces the engagement and we watch as Vivian and JT exchange rings.

‘Such a tacky ring.’ I mumble to myself.

‘Hey, what’s that silver ring on her other finger?’ Ota points to the monitor.

‘Boss, didn’t you give that to her a few years ago?’

‘Obviously. I have more class than he does in style.’ I smirk. So even on TV, she continues to belong to me.

‘Eisuke, Inui and Samejima have dropped Vivian off at the hotel. She’ll be here in a few minutes.’

‘Good.’ My fingers hover over the pager’s call button. It has been confirmed that the wedding will take place tomorrow. JT has booked the ballroom for a party and invited me to attend.

‘So they recorded this and sent it to the media everywhere huh?’ Ota asks.

‘Yes. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 2 weeks since Vivian left us.’

‘She hasn’t left us. As if Eisuke would let the kid go, not with her skills.’ Mamoru, who for once is not asleep, teases me.

‘You’re not snoozing, has the station finally fired you?’ Soryu retorts.

‘Stop it. You all are too noisy.’ I order before Mamoru can fight back.

‘How are the preparations for JT’s party tonight?’

‘Going as well as I can hope. I’ve called the media here to capture JT’s antics on screen.’

‘Seriously? Does he know?’

‘Even if he does he’s not shy to the camera. Everyone knows his drunk habits. I’ve ordered for security to be ready to take action against him if he tries something.’

‘Ota, Mamoru and I will be there as well so you can count on us Boss!’ Baba says with as much enthusiasm as a balloon.

‘Why do I have to be there?!’

‘Because the alcohol is for free. I won’t have to buy you any tonight.’

‘Fine. I guess I’ll go.’ Mamoru grumbles to himself by the window.

‘Hook, line, and sinker. Point 1 to Baba.’ He tips his ridiculous hat and winks at Mamoru who pretends to gag on his cigarette.

‘Sir?’ Kenzaki enters the lounge with the woman I’ve been expecting to see since she left.

‘Miss Vivian has returned.’ His smile tells me that he has been missing Vivian as much as the rest of us.

‘Hey everyo-‘

‘VIVIAN!’

‘THANK GOD!’

‘GET US COFFEE PLEASE!’

Vivian jumps behind Kenzaki as the three men throw themselves at her. It is true that we’ve been miserable without her coffee. We have been living off of room service and Soryu’s tea.

‘I can’t believe you guys really missed me that much. I was gone for 2 weeks!’ She hands out the mugs and I sniff the coffee. It smells wonderful and for once, everyone is quiet in the lounge.

‘Would you like some Mr Kenzaki?’ Vivian asks.

‘No thank you, you can make me some another time. I have some work to do so I will leave you to it.’ He strokes her head like a father and leaves.

‘Vivian, upstairs.’ Still holding my mug and picking up Vivian’s bag, I climb the stairs with her in tow.

We sit beside each other when she looks up and smiles before taking out her tablet.

‘Even though I’ve been away, I’m still your secretary Eisuke. I’ve responded to all your emails and contacted everyone involved with the project. Mr Lance is going to sign the contract tomorrow after the wedding and-‘

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

‘Hm, what?’

‘Did he do anything to you?’

‘No, not really. Despite the engagement, he hasn’t touched me. I thought he was seeing other women since he keeps going in and out of the mansion but I think it’s something else.’

‘Yes, the coordinates Soryu’s puppy sent is an office. It’s filled with counterfeit money.’ Vivian, Inui and Samejima were able to gain the site of Mr Lance’s operations from JT’s car’s automatic navigation system. The Ice Dragons stormed the place with Soryu and found over $200 million in cash.

‘What do you think it’s for?’

‘It could for a number of things Vivian. People have a way of finding things to buy when they millions to spare. Be it an object or a person.’

‘Did Mamoru find out about… the body?’

‘We’re still looking into it, but I have a hunch.’

‘Which is?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘No fair!’ Vivian pouts at me and I pinch her cheeks.

‘Oww!’ She says it in a more playful tone, letting me know that she’s happy.

‘You’ve gotten thinner since you left.’

‘I guess I was lonely without you Eisuke.’ She takes my hands and wraps my arms around her.

‘I missed you, so much.’ She hugs me tight, listening to my rapid heartbeat.

‘How have you been Eisuke?’

‘Fine. It’s not as if I need you by my side all the time.’ Who am I kidding? Her giggles tell me that she doesn’t believe my lies either.

‘But you will always miss my coffee right?’ Her teasing words make me chuckle.

‘Your coffee has done wonders for me. Even if you didn’t stay as my secretary, I would have made you the penthouse maid.’

‘Haha, I’m sure you would have.’ She raises her head and looks up at me through her long lashes. When did she become so beautiful?

‘Eisuke…’ When did her voice become so enticing when she says my name? And what would she sound like at night, beneath me with her head thrown back in pure bliss?

But before my lips can touch her skin…

‘Boss! Are you ready?’

‘Damn it, that thief always has awful timing.’ I grumble as we untangle our limbs from each other.

‘Don’t worry Eisuke. I’ll still be here when you get back.’ She takes my face into her hands and leaves a kiss on my forehead.

‘You know I will always be here.’ We lean our heads against each other, savouring the feelings that we hold dear. I’ve never felt love for a woman before. It’s not a bad feeling though.

* (VIVIAN’S POV)

I change into my casual clothing and go downstairs to find not only Soryu with Ryosuke and Samejima, but also Luke in the lounge. The TV has been set up for us to watch the party on mute.

‘Hey you guys.’ I sit on the couch next to Luke and see Eisuke, Ota, Baba, and Mamoru at the party, mostly drinking at the bar.

‘Hey princess.’ Ryosuke waves. Samejima and Soryu both give me a nod.

‘Hello Sexy Bones.’ I smile at Luke.

‘Why aren’t you down there Soryu?’ I ask.

‘Too many women.’

‘Oh I see.’ Soryu hates women with a passion. Eisuke was surprised when Soryu said he didn’t mind me being here. Apparently, I’m not the type of women he hates.

‘Where’s JT?’ I ask, trying to spot him on the monitors.

‘Over there, speaking to one of the politicians.’ Luke points to the far corner. For a while we wait and see what happens. Eisuke speaks to various celebrities, all with that sly smile on his face, while Mamoru drinks at the bar. Baba and Ota flirt with the other women at the party.

It all seems pretty calm when I see JT suddenly throw a glass of champagne at a wall.

‘Uh oh.’

‘What the!?’

‘He’s drunk.’ Luke observes.

JT seems to shouting at a staff member. One whom I know as my friend, Sakiko.

‘He’s going to hit her!’ I shout. JT’s large fist is balled up in the air, ready to hit its target when Eisuke grabs his arm and pins it back. He forces JT to the ground and Mamoru cuffs his wrists.

‘Oh thank god!’ I sigh with relief as Sakiko is attended to by the other staff members. Eisuke seems to be addressing the guests as Mamoru and security push JT off the premises.

‘The media will love this.’ I say.

‘Eisuke knew this would happen, that’s why he called them in the first place.’ Soryu says, turning his attention to clean his gun.

‘Mr Ichinomiya looked so cool! Just like you sir!’ Ryosuke says, looking at Soryu with admiration.

‘Indeed, Eisuke’s collarbones looked splendid.’ Luke smiles and Ryosuke gives me a look of bewilderment. I laugh despite the situation we just witnessed.

‘Eisuke did look really cool out there.’

‘Maybe you should make him the new Ice Dragon’s leader.’ Luke says.

‘No.’ Both Luke and I burst out laughing with Samejima trying to hide his smile and Ryosuke looking even more bewildered.

When Eisuke came back to the penthouse, I said good night to the others and followed him upstairs to his bedroom. I hugged him tightly as soon as we entered him room.

‘I saw on the monitors. Thank you for saving Sakiko.’ I nuzzle my face into his chest.

‘Hm.’ I feel the slight vibration course through his body.

‘Eisuke?’

‘What?’

‘Seeing JT be so… violent… made me think. Do you think sacrificing my freedom, despite knowing his flaws, despite knowing that there is always the possibility that he could become violent with me, that he could hurt me and cause me pain and trauma that I might never recover from, if marriage is about accepting the faults of the partner you love, should I accept his flaws no matter how abusive he could be?’

‘No. Because even the slightest possibility could destroy more than just your body, but your heart too. People like JT are not worth more than the dirt under our shoes.’

Suddenly, Eisuke dips down and hooks his arm under my knees.

‘Ah! Eisuke!’ Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, Eisuke throws me onto the bed and leans over me.

‘You’re still here though.’

‘I am.’

‘Are you going to leave?’ I look into his chocolate brown eyes. I can see my reflection in them so clearly. I feel my love for him bubbling up inside me.

‘Only if you force me to.’

‘Pfft, as if that would ever happen.’ His kiss is sweeter than any candy. It melts me at my core completely. That night, our hearts finally connect with one another. The moment that I have always wanted has been fulfilled. And before I pass out, I hear,

‘I promise, tomorrow, you will walk out as my woman. I will save you.’

Standing at the church doors, I breath in and out. Clutching a bouquet of hydrangeas, I think about last night. Eisuke promised that he would save me.

‘Go to the wedding tomorrow. I will be there and stop this madness.’

Akira comes up and turns me to face him.

‘Do not worry Vivian. Eisuke will give you a wedding surprise you won’t soon forget.’ His smile warms my heart. I asked him to come from London to walk me down the aisle. With my parents gone since I was a child, Akira is the closest thing I have to a father.

‘I know he will. I just hope he hurries up.’ I say. Akira holds out his elbow and my left hand gently clutches his suit. We hear the music begin and the large doors creak open.

With thousands of eyes on me, I look straight ahead just as Eisuke would. Ignore all the stares and look straight forward always no matter what. Cameras and flashes and whispers fill the room as I see JT smirk my way. The wedding dress wasn’t my choice. It was designed by JT and Ota together but it still isn’t the dress I imagined I would wear to my wedding. It’s a backless, pearl white lace dress with a ring of diamonds at my waist. My hair is in a loose bun and a thin hair band with small flowers rests atop my head. The dress trails at the back slightly and I feel it drag the fake flowers those sitting on the benches throw at us. In the corner of my eye, I see the bidders who wave at me. I smile inwardly, knowing that I’m in safe hands.

We finally make it to the priest and JT presses a light kiss to my hand. I gag inside as Akira leaves me to sit down.

The priest begins to speak the formalities and my mind drifts away. Eisuke said he would save me. So where is he? I’ve hoped for years that Eisuke would love me the way that I love him and now that I finally have it, we’ve become entangled in this mess.

‘If there is anyone who would object to this couple’s union, speak now or forever hold your peace.’

The doors behind us creak open once more. Everyone turns to see the silhouette of the man I love the most in this world.

‘I object.’

Eisuke walks forward as gasps and whispers fill the room. All cameras pointed at the King of Spades.

‘JT Lance has no business marrying her.’ He nods to the priest who takes out a remote and presses a button. A projector rises near the back of the church and a picture of a woman appears.

‘Oh that’s Miss Freya Opaline.’ Opaline was a great gem collector who mysteriously died when she tripped and fell into glass which pierced her heart.

‘Miss Opaline was not killed by what we believed was an accident.’ Eisuke’s strong voice echoes in the church.

‘JT and Opaline were both after the same set of gems that were unearthed in Egypt. Opaline got to them first so JT attempted to bribe her for them. When that didn’t work, he killed her and took the gems for himself.’ Moans and groans of the shocked public begin to rise.

‘The next few slides have secret messages between Mr Jason Taylor Lance and his associates who covered up the murder. Let’s also not forget about Mr Lance, who has been making counterfeit money for nearly a decade.’

‘Damn it.’ I hear JT whisper in defeat.

‘If there is anybody else who would like to object…’ As if on cue, Baba and Ota shout out.

‘I object!’ Everyone follows suit and I back away. Suddenly, Mamoru and the police walk in, arresting JT and Mr Lance. Before JT is taken away, I waltz up to him where he is handcuffed. I smile and throw the bouquet at his feet. The sound a slap resonates inside the building, rendering everyone silent. JT stares dumbfounded. Suddenly, I hear cheers for my performance and the police take JT away.

Eisuke comes up to me and I kiss him. I hear many screams and see white flashes behind my closed eyelids but I don’t care. He did it all and I helped him.

‘I love you Eisuke.’

‘I love you Vivian.’ He smiles genuinely and I fall in love again. We lean our foreheads together, knowing our love for each other is true.

‘It was nice of Mrs Lance to sign the contract on behalf of her ex-husband.’ I say.

‘Yes. Now that Miss Felicia is taking over, their business might finally have a chance of being good.’

‘But not as good as the Ichinomiya Group. Right?’ I laugh.

‘Obviously.’ Eisuke smirks at me when we hear a crack.

‘Okay, I think I got it.’ Ota says. The large statue of Venus stands before us once again… in pieces.

‘I guess you finally did something right for once Baba.’ Mamoru says.

‘Yeah! Wait what?!’

‘We were lucky that this was the statue that Miss Felicia was talking about. Who would have thought that Opaline and Felicia were such good childhood friends that Opaline gave the gems to her?’

The gems were never with Opaline to begin with. She sent them to JT’s mother as a way to rekindle their love for each other. Unfortunately, JT killed Opaline before she and Felicia could run away and start life anew. After her death, Felicia hid the gems inside the statue made by an amateur to prevent anyone from taking them.

‘The gems were the beginning of so much sorrow. Whatever stories there are, those gems hold nothing but pain.’

‘It’s a tragic love story but I think Felicia will be happy knowing that she has her own business to run and that her lover’s murderers are in prison.’

‘What I can’t believe is that Mr Lance wanted Vivian in order to blackmail you into selling the counterfeit money at the auctions.’

‘A stupid idea by a coward.’

‘Guys, I think I found it.’ Ota pulls out a golden box from the statue’s chest.

‘Is that it?’

‘Must be.’

‘Open it Eisuke!’

He takes the box and uses the key Felicia gave Eisuke. Inside is one gem, not multiple like the stories. A large diamond the size of a fist sparkles in the light.

‘Now this, will fetch a very good price.’ Eisuke smirks.

‘$20 million! $50 million! $100 million! Do I have any more bids?’

‘It’s going up.’

‘Of course it is.’

‘$150 million! $200 million!’

‘Wow.’

‘Honestly, these people are far too desperate for something good to happen to ‘em. As if a diamond can bring good fortune.’ Mamoru says.

‘$300 million! Any more!’

The diamond sits on a pedestal on top of a purple velvet cushion. I hug Eisuke’s arm and snuggle into his side as I feel him kiss the top of my head.

‘$500 million! Sold!’

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alj4890 · 4 years

Text

Misfortune's Intentions

(Liam x oc*Elisse Millan) (Drake x Riley) in a Choices The Royal Heir fan fiction

A/N We will have one more chapter after this one to conclude this series. Thanks so much for reading along with this idea of mine. I know I'm behind in responding to comments, just know that I have loved reading each one. In this chapter we begin life for Elisse and Liam while taking the next step forward into their future.

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles

Masterlist

Chapter 6 Taking the Next Step

Streets of the Capital, Cordonia...

There is something almost magical about being awake while the rest of the world sleeps. Sounds one normally doesn't notice during the day captures the imagination. Shadows beckon to be explored. Streetlights dot the different paths one can choose for an adventure through a terrain changed by darkness.

"I can't believe we managed to escape Felix and Bastien." Elisse whispered.

Liam chuckled, wrapping his arm around his bride of twelve hours. "I learned from the best how to slip away."

They walked along the freshly rain washed streets in search of the places that meant the most to Liam. He offered stories of himself and his friends, sneaking out during his social season and unity tour. Each memory was made sweeter by sharing his past with the lady by his side.

He still marveled at the fact that less than a month ago he managed to convince her to marry him. Elisse's doubts that she should remain with him left the moment he told her just how much she meant to him.

After all that Liam had experienced with love not being returned, Elisse's declaration of how much she loved him had made him grateful that he had not kept her at arms' length.

He doubted he would have been able to if he had tried. Everything about her drew him ever closer to her.

They walked on in contented silence. Each was lost in the whirlwind that had been the days leading up to their wedding. The entire country had been both surprised and pleased when he announced his intention to marry the viscountess from Monterisso.

Alamas had given her own press conference once back in her country. No one doubted that this was a love match after more interviews were conducted. It also just so happened to be a match made in diplomatic heaven. With Corodnia's riches combined with Monterisso's technological advances, the two would be a powerhouse that countries around the world wished to be an ally of.

Regina had thrown herself happily into planning a wedding for the couple. She was determined that theirs would outshine Riley and Drake's. A bit of motherly revenge guided her toward making everything bigger and more romantic. She was thrilled Liam had found someone who absolutely adored him. She also found a kindred spirit in Amalas joining to help with the preparations. The two were driven to give the couple all they deserved.

Liam and Elisse were usually caught smiling at each other or sharing a sweet kiss at events held in honor of their upcoming nuptials. Their happiness spread to all corners of Cordonia, making everyone forget about Liam's past with Riley and Madeleine. Everyone agreed that Elisse was perfect for him.

A few days before the wedding, Riley held a dinner for the couple at Valtoria. She and Drake were relieved that Liam was no longer alone. Though Elisse smiled and thanked them warmly for hosting them, she still held some bitterness toward the two.

She was both thankful that Riley's refusal of Liam's proposal led to him becoming hers and hurt that he had to suffer such heartache and betrayal in the first place. Seeing Liam no longer negatively affected by their presence went a long way for Elisse to manage to be polite.

Though their wedding day was plagued with cloudy skies that soon turned to a storm, nothing could take away from their happiness. Once inside Cordonia's oldest cathedral, hearts were touched by the sweet vows shared by the couple.

Elisse's wedding gown drew gasps of delight from the congregation. Cameras zoomed in to capture the petite lady in a sleeveless mermaid style dress. The lace that draped the white satin and then formed a slight train shimmered in the candlelight from the sparse crystals that were carefully placed as to not detract from the beauty of the design. A diamond tiara that Liam had given her the night before completed the veil less look.

For a noble from a country notorious for its secrets, her choice to not wear a veil was symbolic that she wanted to hide nothing from the man she had given her heart to.

Though the king and his soon to be queen were the envy of fashionistas around the globe, no one could ignore the fact that neither tried to disguise how completely happy they were.

Whispers of delight were shared among the guests the moment Liam took her hand and raised it to his lips. The little touches that neither could stop during the ceremony added even more to their sweetness. His wiping of her stray tears with the back of his hand. Her smoothing his lapels, only to have him press her hand to his heart.

It was a wedding that no one would ever forget.

In the midst of their reception, the couple thanked Regina and Amalas for everything before sneaking off to finally be alone.

Once inside the royal chambers the couple could finally be as close as they desired. Kisses were shared between whispers of love and attraction. Caresses became frantic as wedding clothes soon dropped to the floor.

All their moments falling in love led to this, being with the one who truly had lost their heart to them. Liam at one point paused in his movements to simply gaze down at his bride in the throes of passion that he had brought her. Her dark eyes met his fiery blue. Words were not needed. Breathless from his touch, she gently cupped his cheek as she pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

As they calmed their racing hearts in the aftermath, they shared the occasional kiss and smiles. Sleep eluded them as the excitement of the day still thrummed within their veins. Quickly getting dressed, the pair snuck down to the now quiet kitchen to raid the pantry.

Once enough sweets were between them, they sat on the counter, talking about their favorite moments of the day.

Then they discussed the honeymoon plans that had been kept from the press.

Their first stop planned was Boston for Elisse's appointment with Dr. Ramsey.

Once Liam saw her worry, he had insisted on their sneaking out of the palace and going for a walk.

His stories though, could only distract her for so long.

She stopped once they were near the shore. A smile briefly flashed when Liam folded his arms around her from behind.

His lips brushed a kiss to her ear. "What are you thinking about?"

"What Dr. Ramsey might say." Elisse relaxed back within her husband's arms. "I know after all that I have been told that I shouldn't get my hopes up." She let out a deep sigh. "But I can't help it."

He hugged her closer against his chest. He knew nothing could possibly top how happy he was with her, except having a child of their own. It was no secret to either one of them that they had each dreamed of one day having a family. Neither wanted to hear it was impossible.

Liam wanted to see a child with Elisse's dark hair and eyes, one he could spoil and proudly present to the world. Elisse wanted the same with his blue eyes and infectious smile. To see their own child sharing not only the physical characteristics but also those personality traits they adored in the other was something neither wanted to miss out on.

"We should probably return." Elisse turned in his embrace, smiling when he kissed her. "We still need to finish packing if we are to leave in a few hours."

The way his lips moved over her skin made all thoughts of packing seem less important.

Liam's smile held a hint of wicked mischief when he saw his wife's befuddled state.

"What am I to do with you?" She teased once he took her hand to lead her back to the palace.

"I will gladly go into detail once we are back in our bedroom." He winked at her, drawing another giggle from her lips.

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

Edenbrook Hosptial, Boston, two days later...

Olivia paced the confines of the examination room she had been placed in. Anxious to finally begin the decision she had made a month earlier, she was dreading to hear the news that she couldn't be the one.

After confirming that Elisse would be unable to carry a child full term, Olivia's offer to be the surrogate had shocked both the royal couple and the doctor sitting across from them.

It was the most logical decision in Olivia's mind. After all, wasn't she the one strong enough to do so? She was the one who put safety above all else. Who else would guard and protect their child just as well, if not better than them?

"Would you give us a moment, Dr Ramsey?" Liam had asked.

"Of course." He stepped out into the hallway, telling them to let him know when they were finished.

"Olivia," Elisse struggled to find the words. "We can't ask this of you."

"You're not asking.” She explained. “I’m offering”

"This is nearly a year of your life you're giving us." Liam countered. "Possibly longer if the first procedure does not take."

"It will work the first time." Olivia declared. "My body is trained in not accepting failure."

Elisse snorted softly, her heart starting to gain hope in Olivia's gruff determination. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

The duchess eyed them both before nodding. "I decided this a long time ago. Once I knew your medical history and saw Liam falling in love..." Her shoulders squared while her chin lifted, "I knew I should be not only a Guardian of Corodnia, but also a guardian of the future prince or princess."

"Olivia," Liam took her hand and kissed it. "I have no words to express how much your sacrifice means to me."

Her sharp gaze softened. "You owe me no words, Liam." She cleared her throat. "Now, call the doctor back in."

Olivia listened carefully to all that Ethan explained. She beat Liam and Elisse in her questions, then demanded more explanation from the renowned physician.

"Let's get on with the examination." Olivia demanded, as she stood up.

Ethan narrowed his eyes at her. "There is more to it than a simple physical exam. We need to--"

"I am ready to do whatever is needed." She spoke over him. "Are you not ready?"

Ethan bristled to the challenge he heard in her voice. Gathering Elisse's chart, he excused himself. With a jerk of his head toward the duchess, he walked out the door.

"Follow me, Ms. Nevarkis."

After blood was drawn and a physical given, Ethan asked her to get dressed then to wait until he returned.

She paced, wondering what was taking so long. She herself had one of the best doctors in Cordonia give her a physical a few weeks earlier. What if Dr. Ramsey noticed something that no one else had before?

Just as she was about to storm out and demand answers, Ethan returned.

He sat down and motioned for her to sit across from him in the only available chair.

"Well?" She bit out. "Am I healthy enough?"

"Physically, yes." He responded. "Now for the next part."

"When will the implantation be? Three weeks, isn't it, after I begin fertility medications?" She asked.

Ethan held his hand up to silence her. "The next part is a psychological examination."

"Excuse me?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Your mental health in this is almost if not more important in undergoing something like this." He explained. "You will be experiencing all the emotions an expectant mother goes through, yet you will be giving the baby to someone else."

She waived off his words with a flick of her hand. "I know exactly what I am doing."

A muscle spasmed in his jaw. "Ms. Nevarkis, why are you doing this?"

"Because I am able to." She folded her arms. "I'm the best one to do this for them. I have no intention to marry anyone in the near future. I do not have any sexual partners. I am free of any encumbrance."

He slowly shook his head. "Why do you want to do this?"

She blinked. "Why?"

"Yes. What is it about Liam and Elisse that you would be willing to do this?"

"They are my king and queen. Surely, you--"

"Personally." He insisted. "Why are you willing to give them a year of your life?"

Seeing he wouldn’t move forward with the plans, her carefully maintained shield dropped revealing a vulnerability she rarely allowed others to see. "I...there are two reasons."

Ethan leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. His piercing blue gaze warmed as he tried to be less abrupt. "What are they?"

"Liam was...is...someone I owe everything to. He is the one who helped me get over my parents' deaths. He has done nothing except stand by me through the years." She explained.

"I see." Ethan rubbed a hand down his stubbled jaw. "That is a strong, emotional reason to want to do this. But you said you had another one. What is it?"

Olivia swallowed. "Let's call it a chance to prove once and for all that I am worthy of Cordonia."

"Worthy? What do you mean?"

Briefly closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and explained her family's treacherous past and her surprise marriage to Anton.

One thing that helped her get through her past, was Ethan's lack of response. He didn't interrupt her nor did his face reveal what he was thinking.

"This is why I want to do this." She explained, her voice was full of emotion. Even she could hear the need, sadness, and desperation. "I need to do this for Liam and my country. My people."

She jumped when Ethan rested his hand over hers.

Giving a gentle squeeze, he nodded. "Then you are indeed the one who should be the surrogate."

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

"I will stay here for the injections." Olivia explained to Liam and Elisse. "Dr. Ramsey will keep a close eye on me. When you come back in three weeks, we will begin the implantation, and then in two weeks know we are expecting."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Am I needed here at all to explain this?" He waved toward his desk. "Perhaps you should sit there."

Olivia ignored him. "Go and enjoy your honeymoon somewhere else. There is no need for you to remain here."

She grunted when Elisse enveloped her in a tight hug. Her tearful thanks were spoken in a whisper.

Liam in turn hugged her while Elisse surprised Ethan with a hug too.

"How will I ever be able to thank you enough for never giving up on me?" She asked him.

He patted her back and smiled down at her. "You don't need to." He shook Liam's hand while promising that he would do all he could to make this go as easy as possible.

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

Edenbrook Hospital, Boston, five weeks later...

Olivia absentmindedly rubbed at the spot where blood had been drawn. She glanced at the couple who had all their hopes placed within her ability to carry their child.

Please, she silently prayed. Please let me do this for them.

Ethan returned with a smile on his face. "Congratulations. You're pregnant."

Elisse covered her mouth as a sob broke through. Liam wrapped her in his arms, tears sparking his eyes.

Olivia nearly sagged in relief. "And my offer?"

Liam and Elisse looked up. "Offer?"

"I have asked Dr. Ramsey to come to Cordonia to monitor us throughout the entire pregancy." She explained. "In exchange for not only his help in establishing a research hospital in Lythikos but in Cordonia possibly offering a grant to Edenbrook."

Liam nodded. "Of course. I was planning on doing so in Elisse's name after all that you and your hospital did for her."

Ethan cleared his throat. "I have been encouraged by our board and a few others to accept. It is a very generous offer that I can't refuse."

"Thank you!" Elisse hugged Olivia and pulled Ethan in on it. "I can never thank you both enough."

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

The Royal Palace, two months later, Cordonia...

"Shouldn't we wait on Liam and Elisse?" Oliva asked.

Ethan continued to type in information. "Your blood work came back with some surprising results. I want to confirm my suspicions before we talk to them."

She reclined back on the padded exam table as he performed an ultrasound.

The east wing of the palace had gone through numerous changes. Given the equipment Ethan needed to monitor Olivia, rooms had been divided up for examinations and lab work. His own personal quarters were across the hallway from his work.

He had been shocked when Elisse showed him that they had knocked walls down to make him an apartment similar to the one he had in Boston.

"I want you to feel at home as much as you can while you're here." She explained. "You still will be welcome to join us whenever you wish for meals and events, but I know you need a space that is all your own."

Touched by her thoughtfulness, he had accepted the hug graciously that she still felt was needed to express her gratitude.

Liam also invited him to treat the entire palace as his own also. He personally gave him a tour, taking Ethan to the library at the end.

"One of Corodnia's previous rulers was fascinated with medicine." He led him over to a section of shelves on the second floor. "My mother shared his interest and she and I, in her honor, have made certain to keep up with the latest research."

Ethan saw not only many names he recognized through medicine's history but also some he had only been able to gather pieces of. Having a chance to read through all this at his leisure was an unexpected perk to living within the gilded palace.

The entire country was in baby fever. Riley was nearing her due date, causing added scrutiny whenever she and Drake were caught outside of Valtoria. The rest of her pregnancy had gone much easier now that the stress of having the royal heir was removed.

Cordonians were struck speechless when Elisse held an interview openly explaining her fertility problems. When she announced that Olivia would be the surrogate to hers and Liam's baby, the duchess was hailed once again as a hero to Cordonia.

The people in Lythikos were eager to share their opinions that they always knew she was a noble worthy of admiration, but they were also humbled by her willingness to do this for their monarchs.

Olivia and Ethan were soon the ones to dominate the public's interest. The American doctor was asked on numerous occasions how the pregnancy was progressing. Unused to such attention, his deadpan expression with quick, decisive words somehow helped to eliminate any anxiousness the citizens felt.

Olivia looked over at the screen. She failed to recognize what exactly Ethan was studying.

"Well?" She prodded, impatient over his continuing silence. "What is it that you have determined?"

A reluctant smile formed at her trying to disguise her worry with irritation. He took a few pictures and printed them out.

"That we were wrong." He told her.

All color drained from her face. "What do you mean?"

"We suspected twins." He reminded her. "Which was why I wanted to do more bloodwork. Your HCG pointed at that not necessarily being the case."

"Ethan." Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Tell me. I am at least carrying one child for them, aren't I?"

"No. You're carrying three."

#misfortune's intentions #choices the royal heir #liam x oc #drake x riley #trh liam #olivia nevrakis #ethan ramsey #choices stories you play

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atsuminthe · 3 years

Text

AD INFINITUM

I — AD IDEM

→ SYNOPSIS: They got to feel the ‘end of the world’ on their own skin—they’ll live to see another day, together. Alternatively, Atsumu and Osamu go on a journey of self-discovery, forging new bonds and strengthening their own, as they navigate through a post-apocalyptic world riddled with dangers in hopes of reuniting with their parents.

→ listen to... YIRUMA — RIVER FLOWS IN YOU

“ask not the sun why she sets—why she shrouds her light away...”

Earthquakes weren’t uncommon.

They occurred regularly, sometimes like clockwork—most of them were small, somewhere around 2 or 3 on the Richter scale—you’d be barely able to feel them if you planted your hands firmly against the ground. Everyone was used to them—yet the one that brought doom upon the entire nation was virtually unpredictable, happening between two ‘planned’ ones and absolutely throwing any effective evacuation plan out the window.

It was one of the many around the world that almost shattered the continents, rattling the globe itself to the core. Something of a chain reaction, the seismologists said, that triggered every other natural disaster you could think of: tsunamis, landslides, volcanic eruptions.

A 10, kind of like the highest setting in terms of power levels. The most effective way nature could use to wipe out humanity.

The first day was what everyone calls ‘the beginning of the end’, where reality hits you in the face and you scramble for safety only to realize that nothing is safe, except for the underground shelters—yet they’re stuffed, some exceeding full capacity as everyone is trying to survive.

Survive.

It’s probably a weak word, compared to what everyone is feeling. The self-preservation instinct went crazy in every living organism as fights erupted everywhere, tearing families apart and destroying every bit of decency humanity had left—massacres at every step, every corner, every blink.

It would be later described as ‘«The Exorcist», but make it ten times worse’ by the eventual survivors. The few that remained, the few that held onto that sliver of hope with their teeth.

With every collapsing building and each shockwave obliterating everything in its path, life expectancy got lower and lower. Somehow, the masses that huddled together lasted longer than the aristocracy, with their fancy equipment and private housing.

The second to seventh day was a blur—mostly dying people, scavenging for essentials, trying to find the remnants of your family. On the eighth day, some sort of parasite invaded certain target dead bodies, preventing them from rotting in the scorching heat that settled after the eruption of a seemingly inactive volcano in mount Adatara.

‘Undeads’ started rising and they quickly became a problem because of their ability to spread both diseases—similar to rats during the European Black Plague—and infect others with the mysterious parasite through biting, scratching or wounding in general.

Sendai, along with Tokyo, Hiroshima, Fukuoka and Sapporo, became epicentres of high-risk areas. Anyone within a radius of 100 km was advised to leave immediately, if they could, and head towards a decontamination camp—Niigata, Nagoya, Osaka, Kagoshima or Hakodate.

The Miya twins took that advice—or, at the very least, tried to.

They were in Tokyo when it happened, waiting for their match. Who were they playing against? That was the last of their concerns when the rumbling started, shaking the entire building—normally, everyone panicked (not that something else was expected, no matter how organized you are). The more fragile parts of the gym collapsed suddenly, before anyone had a chance to react, and Osamu and Atsumu found themselves outside, pushed by the crowd—but all alone. Where was everyone? Did they not get out? They probably have—Kita most likely steered everyone clear of the falling debris.

They didn’t have time to worry about that. They’d meet somewhere, sometime.

Confusion overtook them. What were they supposed to do? The rumbling didn’t cease, nor did it falter in the slightest, so the only option left for them was to continue getting pushed by the crowd and see where they end up.

It wasn’t great. If anything, their days were fuzzy—no Internet connection, no signal, no way to communicate with anyone. The streets ended up empty by the time they reached Niigata and the deserted buildings creeped them out in a weirder way than they would have in normal circumstances. They were too late, they realized—far too late for their liking, but since they had to go on foot all the way from Tokyo, they supposed it couldn’t be helped. Atsumu complained about the heat, the humidity, the cold nights, the scarce water supply, the even scarcer food ration—everything he could think of, while Osamu groaned and put up with it, as he was used to his twin’s antics. His annoyance didn’t go unnoticed, though—when the blond realized that whining won’t get him anywhere (and he was losing energy over it, too), he stopped. All he said were little comments over the state of the world, cracking some jokes here and there and trying to make his way-too-serious twin smile for at least a few seconds—and he succeeded at some point, when he heard Osamu snort in front of him, even if his back was all Atsumu could see.

Everything was in shambles—none of them expected anything else, but the only thing they could seek solace in was the other.

Such was the truth.

Miya Atsumu only had Miya Osamu. Miya Osamu only had Miya Atsumu.

They were alone in a world that wanted them dead and they refused to give up.

They’d hold onto each other until their last breaths.

“A told ya, we need to stop and eat. We haven’t sat down since we passed that mall in Iiyama!” Atsumu huffed, tugging on the tattered sleeve of his brother’s tracksuit, which prompted the silver-haired man to groan and turn around—his eyes were tired, slightly unfocused, with dark circles under them as he glared.

“Shut yer trap, ‘Tsumu. We almost reached Suzaka, and from there we have 10, maybe 20 minutes until Nagano,” Osamu muttered, shrugging his twin’s hand off his sleeve. “Quit yer whinin’, we can rest then.”

“Yer gonna collapse and a ain’t carryin’ ya all the way ta Nagano,” the blond warned, scowling. With a stomp of his foot, he stopped in his tracks and plopped on the ground, refusing to budge even after Osamu’s harsh gaze. “Ya ain’t scarin’ me with that shit. Sit yer ass down and let’s eat whatever the fuck ya found.”

“At least help me set up some makeshift camp, ya pig,” the grey-eyed man groaned, giving in to his brother’s insistence. Truth be told, he felt the fatigue catching up to him, realizing that he couldn’t go further than Obuse and it would actually be a good idea to rest. Atsumu wasn’t the brightest in many things, but—even he had to admit—he was an emotionally intelligent cookie. Muttering an ‘sorry for that’ under his breath, Osamu lit a little fire with whatever flammable stuff he found lying around as Atsumu took out the blue tent they found under the rubble of a sports store in Tokamachi.

“So what do we have?” the blond asked, zipping up the flaps of the tent and sitting next to his twin, who was trying his hardest to not drop the tin cans containing their dinner. Incoherent mumbles fell from Osamu’s lips in an attempt to answer and Atsumu only sighed, gingerly plucking the utensils from his brother’s hands and taking care of the food himself. “Just rest, dumbass. A’ll wake ya up when it’s ready,” he reasoned when Osamu whined something about ‘doing it himself’—his eyes closed a second later, a soft snore escaping him as his head bobbed up and down, making his twin puff a laugh through his nostrils.

“A’ll stay watch tonight, but ya gotta do the rummagin’ next time we go lookin’ for food,” Astumu explained as he fed his brother some canned soup, smiling gently at the sleepy state he was in—he could barely sit straight, but the smell of food suddenly gave him enough energy to eat. A slight nod was the only confirmation he needed—he patted the grey locks, settling down with his own can of soup. “Could have been worse,” he mused, swirling the cheap liquid in the can. “We could have been dead.”

“Guess what we have is better than nothin’,” Osamu reasoned in his sleep-laced voice and Atsumu watched him put the can down and stretch. “A’ll take over after a little nap, ‘Tsumu. Ya need yer rest too.”

“Since when did ya care so much about me, huh?”

“Since ya decided ta cook for me, even though ya suck ass at cookin’.”

“Fair enough. Now get ta sleep, else a’m makin’ ya take over watchout duty.”

“As if. Try not ta scream like a girl when ya see another Undead again, yeah?”

Atsumu grunted, looking to the side. With a last laugh, Osamu lied down on the blanked in the tent, falling asleep instantly. His blond twin smiled gently, watching his chest rise and fall peacefully—he turned his face to the still-burning fire, the heat hitting his face welcome against the crisp cold of the night.

Don’t worry, ‘Samu. A’ll watch over ya, like a always have.

taglist: @risjime;

#[ ♾️ : ad infinitum ]#[ minty’s kitchen treats — series ]#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #miya osamu #apocalypse au

6 notes · View notes

waywardodysseys · 5 years

Text

Victory - Oneshot

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Warnings: cussing, teasing

Requested?: Yes from this ask by @bloggerchic14 - I was hoping if you can do one where reader is nominated for best director at the Oscars and she didn’t expect to win but when she does ends up in shock and Pedro ends up walking up stage with her. They then end up at the Vanity fair party and reader parties hard and teases Pedro. Thank you ☺️

Author’s note: none

~ ~ ~

You’re jittery as you sit in the limo. You breathe in and out trying to calm your nerves. Your hands running over the simple black strapless gown you are wearing.

The man sitting next to you places his hand on your arm, trying to calm you.

“We haven’t even walked the red carpet,” your dad whispers.

You swallow, “you aren’t the one nominated for an award. Talk is I could win. I won at the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs – which was still surprising, the Critics’ Choice Awards. An Oscar would complete the shelf of the other awards.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, “they aren’t on a shelf. You use them as bookends or paperweights.”

You shrug and laugh, “you know what I mean.”

You had taken a family member or a close friend as your date to each awards show. You took your mother to the Golden Globes (your mom nearly fainted when she met Tom Hanks), your best friend to the BAFTAs (this included a well-deserved girls trip), your sibling to the Critics’ Choice Awards (which they found dull, but they got to meet their celebrity crush), and your father’s now going with you to the Oscars.

Your father and mother had bickered about what awards show they would attend with you. You had picked the Golden Globes and the Oscars for them because those award shows meant the most to you.

They eventually drew straws. Your mother getting the Golden Globes, and your father getting the Oscars.

You knew they couldn’t be more prouder of you when you had told them you had been nominated for directing your first movie.

“We’re ecstatic for you honey!”

“Over the moon!”

“Proud of our baby girl!”

“We knew you could do it!”

They both had exclaimed when you called them to tell them the news of each nomination.

Now with three awards under your belt you were ready to claim the fourth but also feared you weren’t going to get it. You’re up against some big names – Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, and David Lynch. You are the newcomer, the first timer. It would be a rarity for the Academy to award you when they could easily go with an oldie tried and true person who has been directing nearly their entire life.

The door opens and your father looks at you, “ready?”

You smile weakly, “I guess. Let’s do this.”

-------

Inside the Dolby Theatre celebrities are mingling as you and your father are escorted down one of the many aisles towards your seats. The usher pauses at the fifth row up from the stage.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the usher smiles, “here are your two seats. Enjoy!”

“Thank you kindly,” your father remarks as the usher disappears.

You breathe a sigh of relief at being on the aisle. You didn’t want to parade down an entire row of people in case your name was called when they announced the winner.

Several people were familiar to you as you looked around, most of them your cast. They all greeted you with smiles and hugs.

Sarah Paulson pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I’m betting big on you tonight,” Sarah whispers as she pulls away.

“Please don’t tell me that!” You laugh.

“They’d be wrong not to give you the damn award. You’re the first female director to be nominated in a few years and your first nomination ever!” Sarah retorts.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply as the lights begin to dim and brighten which indicated five minutes to show time, “no Holland?”

“She’s working. I brought Pedro,” Sarah looks around the theatre, “he’s here somewhere. Hopefully he’s here before the show begins.”

Right before the orchestra begins playing you hear a light “excuse me” from beside your father, who took the aisle seat.

Your father stands then you do.

The man nods at your father, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your father whispers as he sits.

The man then looks at you and smiles, “thank you.”

You nod your head and smile in return. You hadn’t met Pedro Pascal prior to this evening. He was someone you were wanting to work with because of seeing him in Narcos. Sarah had even praised him when you two were discussing your next movie one day.

“Pedro would be fantastic!” Sarah had exclaimed.

“I’ve seen his work in Narcos, nothing else.” You had remarked.

“He’s versatile. Done plenty of stage work, movies, T.V. shows. If you are wanting to do a modern reimagining of The Lady Eve, I think you should reach out to Pedro’s people. You won’t regret it.” She had leaned in and whispered, “he loves that movie. One of his faves.”

Now you glance at Sarah as you take a seat. She gives you a sly smile. You know she remembers your conversation as well. She wants you to meet Pedro and show you he deserves to be directed by you.

“Pedro this is Y/N,” Sarah remarks a couple of hours into the show.

Pedro smiles at you and holds out his hand, “I know who she is Sarah. Yet I haven’t met her.”

You take his hand and shake it. “Nice to meet you Pedro.”

“She wants to direct a modern reimagining of The Lady Eve,” Sarah implies with a smile towards you.

Pedro turns his dark brown eyes to you. Their opened wide and his face is a look of seriousness. “Really?”

You blush and smile, “yes.”

“How would you tell it?”

“I’m thinking of having the man play the con artist,” you reply.

“Are you working on a script? Or have someone working on one?” Pedro asks eagerly.

You laugh, “Phoebe Waller-Bridge and I are working on a script together.”

“I’d love to read it! Even audition!” Pedro smiles widely.

You glance at him, “I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Oh, come on!” Pedro laughs.

“Y/N,” your father whispers, “your category is up next.”

Right, you think as your heart begins pounding loudly inside of your chest.

Pedro squeezes your hand and whispers, “good luck.”

You smile in return then move your eyes to the stage.

Natalie Portman smiles brightly for the camera as she reads the teleprompter, “the nominees for best director are: David Lynch, Y/F/N Y/L/N, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino.”

Your eyes are on the screen as small clips from each of the movies are played. You shrink in your seat as you watch a cameraman kneel beside your row and place the lens on you.

“You’re okay,” your father whispers as he leans over, “breathe.”

You try but you know one of the men will get it. They’ll go with the tried and true who have won before. Not the debut director, not the newcomer.

“The Oscar goes to,” a pause as the envelope is opened, “wow! The Oscar goes to Y/F/N Y/L/N!”

Natalie Portman said my name, you think as tears flood your eyes. My name? My name!

Everyone around you stands and applauds. The whole theatre stands to their feet and applauds.

Your father leans down and touches your shoulder.

“You have to go get it,” he says with a smirk.

You nod as you stand.

Sarah’s right there and embraces you tightly, “told you!”

Pedro’s pushed back against his folded seat as he lets Sarah hug you. He winks at you as you pull away from Sarah and turn towards the aisle.

The thundering applause fills your ears as you begin to take a step up the stairs towards Natalie and the Oscar. You’re focused on making sure you don’t trip yet you do.

You laugh as you sit up and smile. Pedro’s right there with a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers in return.

He tries to let your hand go but you’re gripping it tightly. Your nerves are getting the best of you.

Pedro smiles as he hooks your hand in the crook of his arm. He guides you up the remaining stairs, escorting you towards Natalie and the microphone. The Oscar statue you are about to claim as yours.

Once Natalie embraces you and hands you the award, Pedro takes a step back and lets you have the spotlight. The applause dies down as people take their seats and you wring your hands around the Oscar you now have in your possession.

You wipe at your tears, “Um, there’s so many to thank. I apologize beforehand if I forget anyone,” you pause, “I’d like to thank the Academy. Paramount Studios for taking a chance on me and this movie I love. Plan B productions for a chance as well. The amazing crew I was placed with, thank you. My wonderful cast – Hugh Laurie, Katie Holmes, Emily Blunt, Sterling K. Brown, and Sarah Paulson. Thank you. As well as to the other amazing cast members I appreciate you all. To my close friends and my dear family I can never thank you enough for loving me for me, and supporting me for when I wanted to come out here and start directing. From T.V. shows to the big screen, directing will always be my passion. To all the girls out there wanting to direct, take a chance and follow your dreams, follow your heart. I will be your biggest supporter.” You smile widely and raise the Oscar in the air, “thank you again!”

The entire theatre erupts in applause as you walk off the stage with Natalie and Pedro.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as Natalie releases you from the hug she gave you once you were in line to make your way to the media room.

“Congrats again!” She smiles.

“Thanks,” you smile in return.

Your eyes watch her walk away then land on Pedro who was stopped by Kit Harrington. You had hoped you’d be able to talk to him more. You wanted to talk to him more. You wanted to thank him properly for being there to help you up the stairs.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Someone with a headset on their head draws your face back around.

You hum and raise a brow.

“The press is ready.”

You smile, “thanks.”

The person opens the curtain and the cameras start flashing as you walk in. You take one glance back at Pedro hoping he’s going to the same after party as you are.

-------

The Vanity Fair after party is in full swing after the limo driver took your father home. He didn’t want to spend all night out on the town, which you preferred because you were going to party hard for as long as you could before returning in the wee hours of the night. And there was someone you needed to cross paths with again – Pedro.

Inside you are swarmed by actors and actresses congratulating you, wanting to know what you’re doing next, wondering if they could give you a call about auditioning for anything you do in the future. They give you glasses of champagne. Toasting you over abundantly, making you sip on the frothy and bubbly liquid. It’s all overwhelming until you feel a hand grasp yours and pull you away.

“Give her a chance to breathe!” Sarah nearly shouts as she drags you away from the horde of people.

You giggle as Sarah pulls you away and into a corner. She swipes two glasses of champagne off a tray from a passing by waiter.

Sarah clinks her glass to yours, “congrats!”

“Thanks,” you smile not bothering to take a sip. “I’ve had too much of this.”

“Understandable,” Sarah pauses as she gulps down her glass then takes yours, “so, Academy Award winner director Y/F/N Y/L/N directing a remake of The Lady Eve starring Pedro Pascal…”

You giggle, “where is he by the way?”

“Oh, your rescuer?” Sarah giggles loudly. She’s had a little too much alcohol already. “He’s here somewhere. He saw you trip, and zoom did he go to rescue you. When he got back to the seat I whispered, ‘her dad’s right there Pedro.’”

“What was his reaction?”

“’Well at least I scored brownie points with him.’” Sarah laughs.

You giggle as the alcohol courses through your veins. You place a hand on your stomach when it growls. You realize it’s empty, and you’re starving.

“Is there food here?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Yeah but it’s mostly finger foods,” Sarah smiles, “here he is!”

Pedro smiles as he hands Sarah a napkin, “food.”

“Share with the lady,” Sarah points at you as she swallows a couple of cheese cubes.

Pedro smiles at you and holds out another napkin. It’s filled with cheese cubes, crackers, even a chocolate covered strawberry.

“Hey,” Pedro pouts, “the strawberry was mine!”

You smile as you bite a small piece, “have the rest.”

“You may the whole thing. It’s not like I fought a swarm of people to get just one!”

You finish the decadent dessert. Not sure if it’s the alcohol or not, you lean over and brush your lips across his.

Pedro inwardly moans as he tastes the chocolate strawberry on your lips. He swipes his tongue across your lips. He tastes the champagne once you let him in.

You pull back breathlessly and look into Pedro’s deep brown eyes. “I, uh, I…”

Pedro smiles, reaches out, and runs a finger down your cheek, “it’s okay.”

Sarah is able to tell she’s no longer needed. “I’m gonna leave you two to it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” you and Pedro say in unison. His eyes and your eyes are one another.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” you say after seconds of silence.

Pedro grins lopsidedly, “you’re welcome. I do hope at least it scored me some brownie points.”

“Why?”

“I want to be a part of The Lady Eve.”

“Script’s not done. And I’m currently working with Netflix on a series.”

“I’d like to be forefront and center when you go to producers. Tell them Pedro Pascal needs to be in this movie, will be in this movie,” he remarks with a laugh.

“Are you desperate for a role where one sees your face?” You ask.

Pedro raises an eyebrow, “I was informed you’ve only seen Narcos from my long resume.”

“I see you and Sarah have talked.”

Pedro shrugs, “I inquired about you on the way here. She’s the one who worked with you. She even raved about you while you were filming. Said you were extremely kind and knew what you were doing, what you wanted and needed from the cast and crew.”

“Glad to know at least one person likes me,” you jokingly laugh.

“Everyone likes you Y/N,” Pedro remarks. “You’re kind, sweet. A great kisser.”

You inwardly laugh then run your hand up Pedro’s arm. “You’re too kind Pedro, too sweet.”

Pedro holds in his moan as your hand runs up his arm then over his chest and down his stomach.

You lean forward and brush your mouth against his. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, deepening the kiss. You moan as his hands travel up and down your back, occasionally touching your bare skin.

Heat rises in your body as you move your hands across his shoulders down his chest. You finally loop them around his neck and run your fingers through his hair.

Pedro pulls faintly away. He looks into your Y/E/C eyes. He leans down and nuzzles your neck. Your skin is delicate and warm.

“Pedro,” you moan lowly as his mustache tickles your skin.

You snake a hand down his chest. You run it teasingly over his crotch and find him hard.

Fuck, your mind screams as pleasure intensifies inside of you.

Pedro hisses as he pulls back, “you’re a tease too. A wicked tease.”

“You are too Pedro,” you remark as you press your body against his.

You want Pedro, need Pedro. Your body is aching to have his mouth and hands all over it.

You would never have the courage to be this blunt, but with the alcohol pumping through your veins you do. You look at Pedro in seriousness, “please get me out of here Pedro. I need you in more ways than one. If you know—”

Pedro kisses you soundly and grabs your hand as he pulls you towards the exit, “I know what you mean Y/N. I want to get us both out of here so we’re able to enjoy each other fully especially with our clothes off.”

You knew this was going to be a night you’d never forget – you won your Oscar, and you had the ultimate lap of victory when you and Pedro finally made it into his bed - sans clothes.

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @cosmo-bear, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @knight-of-heart44, @caitlincat-95, @random066, @readsalot73, @arrowswithwifi, @halefirewarrior, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @stardust-and-starlight, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @longitud-de-onda, @jokersdoll, @earl-01, @ezraslittlebirdie, @bonkybaaarnes

#victory oneshot #request #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #oneshot #sarah paulson #oscars

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pokeblader3 · 4 years

Text

Reimagining ATLA's Water Tribes and Air Nomads:

I love Avatar so much you guys, it's a masterpiece in writing and worldbuilding, but over the years I've sat and thought over it, I've thought up some ideas. In the show, the Air Nomads and Water Tribes aren't as fleshed out as the Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom, so as a worldbuilding exercise, I fleshed them out some more, with some slight rewriting.

The Water Tribes:

There are 2 types of Water Tribes - polar hunter-gatherer icebending tribes who developed waterbending as a result of being surrounded by ice and water(and use it to mass-hunt sea life and build ice houses, like the Arctic cultures they're based on), - and tropical seafarers who navigate a large ocean filled with islands, based on Austronesians and other Pacific peoples, who used ocean currents and star maps to navigate the vast oceans, and diverged into a number of different Pacific nations with the Austronesian expansion(being surrounded by a vast ocean, they'd develop waterbending separately than the poles).

The Pacific Water Tribe would have a large number of smaller "tribes" like how the polar tribes are divided into North and South, with some being inspired by Aboriginal Australians and Mississippians(hence boomerangs and other Oceanian influences in the polar Water Tribe, and also the swamp tribe), and as the Fire Nation is a tropical island nation that colonized nearby coastal territories, a number of these Water Tribes will be colonized by the Fire Nation, similar to the Earth kingdom, some of the earliest colonies in the Fire Nation's expansion.

Given both of their cultures have the shared art of waterbending(and more recently, both being colonized by the Fire Nation), the polar and tropical tribes have a kinship with each other, and welcome other Water Tribe people and assist them in their voyages(better explaining how polar tribes can cross the entire earth from pole to pole, going through vastly different climates, in ships made from just bone and animal hide). Given Water is the element of change and adaptability (a large number of tribes united by a common bending style developed in different occasions to suit their environment) and heart and community (resisting the Fire Nation and cultural camaraderie and hospitality to other Tribespeople even if they aren't a part of your tribe, along with the theme of indigenous unity forming in the wake of colonization, which could be tied to the element of Water), these would fit pretty in line with what Water represents in Avatar.

Sokka and Katara would meet other Water Tribes and the people that make them up in Book 1 as they travel from pole to pole, and learn about things like seafaring by sensing the ocean and looking to the moon's astral companions, along with have small bits of community and hospitality when they enter Water Tribe territories along their way. There would be a recurring character a la Jet or Suki from one of these new tribes.

Lastly, in real life, day and night cycles behave very differently in polar regions: at the poles of the earth, an entire year is 6 months of darkness and night, followed by the sun rising and not setting for another 6 months. This is called the midnight sun effect(and is something Sokka actually references in the first episode of the series, despite the sun and moon rising and setting in normal 24 hour cycles in the show). Given how Waterbending and Firebending are given strength by the sun and moon, this would be a great detail to add to Book 1, perhaps with the eventual sunrise/set in the Northern Water Tribe being a timeframe they need to reach the tribe before it occurs, as it would be such an important event.

Also, as mentioned in a previous post I made, I like the idea of the spirit portals on each pole being connected, and how the Polar Water Tribes became 'sister tribes' before they could circumnavigate the globe, along with how the Ocean and Moon spirit moved between the North and South Water Tribes on a cycle, before the Fire Nation severed the portal with the spiritual wound they inflicted on the world with their genocide of the Air Nomads and Southern Water Tribe, a visualization of the spiritual damage they are doing on the world, and one that would eventually heal decades later in Korra's era after reparations are made.

The Air Nomads:

The Air Nomads were not wiped out entirely in Sozin's genocide - Aang is not the last person of his culture. In real life, genocides do not destroy a culture or people entirely - they are still alive, often with their culture critically endangered and their presence erased and suppressed so that many people do not think they even exist anymore, see how Americans treat the original inhabitants of our continents that White Europeans tried to wipe out(and never fully succeeded in). I didn't mind the Air Nomads being revived and Sky Bisons miraculously surviving in Korra for this reason, a more realistic tragedy for Aang(aside from having ran away and not been able to interfere when the genocide of his people started and losing all his friends and family over the 100 year time skip) would be dealing with the actual effects of genocide and being a member of a culture that the Fire Nation drove to endangerment and is deeply wounded and scarred from a systemic genocide against them.

Aang would meet other Air Nomads, and we'd get a character who was an Air Nomad too, possibly showing the cultural differences between the 4 temples(which don't have that weird worldbuilding about gender segregation, also, not every Air Nomad would be an Airbender like the creators have stated). This would also help explain why the Sandbenders knew what specialized equipment to use to capture Appa when airbenders and sky bisons haven't existed for 100 years, and how Long Feng and other Earth Kingdom people knew about Sky Bisons, with an Earth Kingdom commoner saying Appa was probably being sold for bison steaks(a market that apparently still existed 100 years after Bisons were driven extinct).

I'd want to see how Air Nomads who couldn't airbend would be accommodated in their culture - every kin group can still have a flying bison and make their nomadic travels, but how are non-benders accommodated? This could connect to the inventor's son in the Northern Air Temple, who showed how disabled people could have accomodations made for them in gliders. Maybe the Western Air Temple could be a little more OSHA compliant, so you wouldn't fall to your death if you trip near a ledge, too.

I feel like we didn't get to see enough of the Air Nomads in ATLA, after Gyatso and Aang, is the only other named Air Nomad Yangchen, who appears like twice throughout the original show? I'd love to see Air Nomads migrating and raising herds of bison(they are nomadic pastoralists, after all). Tibetan culture has a unique element where many young boys are expected to live at a monastery for a few years to learn discipline and mature, which would be interesting to represent in the Air Nomads' spirituality and temples that are already present in the show. Would there be any Air Nomad settlements or homesteads outside the Air Temples? Would there be many nomadic herds of bison herders in the mountains and islands the temples are situated in?

Lastly, Air Nomads surviving the genocide would heighten ATLA's important message about reparations and healing from genocide and violence: after the Fire Nation is de-programmed and reparations are made to restore and help the Air Nomads and Water Tribes heal, the sky bisons will return to roaming the world, and the Air Nomads would be able to rebuild their culture and the Water Tribes would be able to rebuild their tribes and regain autonomy of their territory when the Fire Nation returns their land to them, with the spiritual scars left on the world after the Fire Nation's war eventually healing, with the portals in the Water Tribe being restored again and the Ocean and Moon spirits being able to return to the Southern Water Tribe's spirit oasis again after years of being severed from them.

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #sokka #katara #aang #worldbuilding #rewrite #atla #air nomads #water tribe

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fallen-gravity · 4 years

Text

Scars, Show Me All The Scars You Hide

Ford and Mabel have a talk about blame, and how too much of it can cause the heart pain.

Alternatively,

Mabel tells Ford about her encounter with Bill prior to the start of Weirdmageddon.

AO3

Everything is peaceful.

Ever since the town had been cleansed of any and all evidence that Weirdmageddon had happened at all, the small town of Gravity Falls seemed to sigh a breath of relief for the first time in decades. The birds were chirping away as the clouds from an earlier rainfall were beginning to clear. The whole atmosphere of the town still smelled of rainfall, and it seemed that half of the town’s population was out for a walk to enjoy it. Everyone in town seemed friendlier to each other, too. It was near-impossible to come across a sidewalk unoccupied by groups of people gathered in messy circles to talk.

The Shack was booming with business, far more than the morning after Gideon’s arrest. Also in great contrast was the fact that those who were stopping by the shack had little interest in tours, rather to come in to meet the family that saved the town from utter destruction. Stan had already gotten far more than his fair share of aggressive handshakes and teary-eyed hugs from citizens who’d lived in town their whole lives, while Ford stood off to the side, watching them with a quiet fondness, finally understanding what his brother had meant when he told them the Shack had been a fundamental part of the town’s history. When they had first argued over the deed to the Shack, Ford had just thought he’d been exaggerating, but it was moments like those, as well as the times he would be mistaken for Stan in public, that really opened his eyes to how much the people of this town really loved the place, and, more importantly, how much these people loved his brother.

Today might be the first lull the Shack’s seen in a solid month, and Stan had made the decision to close up shop to spend time with the family before Dipper and Mabel had to head off back home. They’d spent the entire early afternoon together, playing dumb games and watching dumb movies, and now, for the first time today, they were all off doing their own thing. It wouldn’t last, they knew, but they also couldn’t argue against the fact that sometimes comfortable silence was one of the warmest feelings on Earth.

Stan’s taking a nap on the back porch, Dipper’s in the kitchen scribbling things down in a blank notebook Ford had gifted him when he was offered the apprenticeship, and Ford was down in his basement lab, cleaning up the last of the rubble of the portal he and Stan had taken baseball bats to the night prior.

Mabel….

Mabel is pacing back and forth in the living room, stuck wondering why if everything is so peaceful and perfect, just like she’d dreamed things would be, that something still felt...off to her. Not in the sense that she’d forgotten something, or that things shouldn’t be all peachy keen, it’s more along the lines of something that’s wrong with her specifically.

She knew it couldn’t be a lack of sleep, because she’d fallen asleep in Grunkle Stan’s lap during one of the movies earlier. It could be that she’s sad to be leaving in a week, she supposes, but no, they hadn’t been talking much about her and Dipper’s departure lately, and she’d already made both Stan and Ford pinky promise her that the two of them could spend the following summer in Gravity Falls, so that couldn’t be it either…

“Mabel?” Dipper asks, startling her out of her thoughts, and she freezes in her pacing. He’s carrying his notebook under one arm, and his favorite blue pen is poking out of his hair from behind his ear. Nerd. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know…” Mabel admitted, rubbing at her arm. “I know that everything’s all sunshine and rainbows now that Bill’s gone for good, but I don’t feel like sunshine and rainbows”

“Oh, Mabel…” Dipper frowned, placing his book on the armrest of Stan’s chair. “Is it because we’re leaving so soon? I know Stan already promised us we could stay here whenever we needed, but I thought you missed Mom and Dad”

“I do miss them!” Mabel shot her arms in the air. “I miss everyone at home. But I don’t think that’s what’s bugging me so much”.

Dipper frowns, and takes a seat in Stan’s chair, indicating he wasn’t going to leave the room until he could figure out what was bugging her himself. “Well...what do you think it is?”

“I don’t know!” Mabel whined, bringing her hand to her forehead as if she had a bad headache. “I’m thrilled that everything’s okay, I’m thrilled that Stan and Ford are best friends again, and I’m thrilled that we get to come back next summer, but I...can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. I haven’t been able to since the morning Stan woke up with his memories intact”

“Mabel, that was two days ago!”

“I know, I know…” Mabel begins pacing again. “But I just thought that it was just cause I was so stressed he was gonna relapse again, or that something else terrible was gonna happen, or-”

The small crunch of a piece of paper interrupts her before she can finish her train of thought, and when she looks down to see what she’d stepped on she realizes it’s an early draft of the invitation cards for her and Dipper’s birthday party.

Her face goes pale at the sight.

“Mabel, are you okay?” Dipper stands to reach out for her shoulder. “You’re not looking too hot…”

“I know what it is” she says, before he can touch her, and he retracts his hand.

“You do? Can you tell me?”

Mabel takes a few looks around the room to make sure that they’re alone.

“Follow me,” she says, but then she grabs Dipper by the hand and runs up the stairs to their attic bedroom.

“Mabel, what’s happening?” Dipper asks her as she locks the room behind her. “You’re acting a lot like...me”

“It’s all my fault”

“What? What’s all your fault?”

The concern in her brother’s tone makes her choke up for reasons she can’t describe. “Weirdmageddon”, she shutters. “It’s all my fault”.

“What?” Dipper’s voice squeaks, which makes Mabel flinch. “Mabel, don’t say that! Of course it’s not your fault!”

“Yes it is,” she mopes, and plops herself down onto her bed. “Bill came after me when I ran into the woods, and I gave him that weird snow-globe looking thing.” She buries her face in her pillow, but she doesn’t wait for her brother to respond before she keeps going. “It wasn’t out of anger, or anything, I swear. He possessed that Blendin guy and promised me an eternal summer in exchange, and I handed it over because I’m a big dummy dumb, and everyone got hurt because I thought I wanted time to freeze forever so we wouldn’t have to be apart”

For a brief moment there’s silence, but then Dipper’s hand on her shoulder. When she pulls her face out of her pillow to look at him, it’s all wet and gooey. “Mabel, are you kidding? I thought the rift shattered in your backpack. I thought for sure it was because you tripped, and everything exploded out of your backpack. I thought you were a goner”.

Mabel sniffles, but she doesn’t respond.

“Mabel, your story is so much better than the ones I was making up in my head. I mean, I wish Bill had never tracked you down at all, but I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.” He pulls her into a hug. “Great Uncle Ford and I were just talking about this the other morning, Mabel. He was worried sick that he’d hurt you taking it by force”

“You’re…” she stutters, returning the hug. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not” he shakes his head. “I meant what I said in Mabeland. Whatever happens, we get through it together”.

She giggles and pulls away from the hug, wiping at her face with her sleeves. “But...what about Grunkle Ford?”

Dipper shakes his head. “You should tell him too. He’s gonna be understanding, Mabel, he already knows how much Bill had it out for us personally”

That’s...true, she supposes, shuttering at the memory of her and Dipper offering themselves up as bait so Bill wouldn’t kill their Grunkles. She stands to exit the room, gives her brother one more hug for good luck, and and repeats Dipper’s words to herself the entire way down the staircase and into the gift shop. The stairs to the basement are propped open, which she assumes is because Ford no longer feels he needs to keep its location a secret. She makes her way down slowly, partly out of nerves and partly to avoid spooking Ford.

He’ll understand, she says to herself one last time as she exits the elevator. Ford’s sitting at the work desk, and the view of the portal in the next room is blocked off with a curtain. He’s hunched over, just a little bit, and Mabel figures it’s probably because he’s writing something in one of the journals. It’s only as she approaches him that she realizes he’s not wearing his trench coat, because she can tell that he rolled the sleeves of his sweaters up to make for easier writing.

“Grunkle Ford?” she asks, knocking lightly on the machine closest to her right in case calling his name isn’t enough to snap him out of his focus.

“Mabel!” his response is cheery, and he places a bookmark on the page he’d been working on and closes the cover. “What brings you down here?”

“Well, I...guess I wanted to talk to you about something”.

“Sure, anything” he grins, patting at his pant leg in invitation to come sit on his lap. Mabel sighs, tries to think for a moment about how she can place things lightly, and takes Ford up on his offer. She crawls up onto his lap, opens her mouth to speak, and freezes when she notices that his wrist is covered in cuts and blistering scars. A quick glance at the other wrist and she’s met with the same sight.

“Grunkle Ford?” is all she can manage, and her eyes follow hers to the scars on her wrist.

“Oh!” he replies, much cheerier than she’d expected him to, and rolls his sleeves back down. “I’m going to be fine, sweetie, those will heal in due time”.

“What happened to you?” she looks up at him with her signature puppy eyes. “How recent are these?”

From her spot on his lap, Mabel can feel Ford’s chest rise and fall as he sighs quietly. “You have to promise me you won’t tell Stan,” he says, rubbing delicately at his wrist. Mabel nods silently, and his eyes fall to the ground to avoid eye contact with his niece.

“Bill did this to me. When he was demanding that I give him the codes to undo the bubble around the town, he chained me by my arms and legs and fried me until I talked. I’m so sorry that you had to come across them by accident, but, uh, I’m grateful that you saw them today, rather than earlier. I nearly threw up when I saw them for the first time after I was freed”

Mabel’s breath hitches, and she’s tearing up. It’s getting harder and harder to convince herself that It’s not your fault could be a true statement when everyone she cares about is getting hurt by it. Bill fried him. Bill chained him up and fried him, and if the scars on his wrists are just from the chains, she can’t even begin to imagine what the scars must look like under the rest of his sweater. He must be completely disfigured from the neck down, if she knows anything about Bill. He’d tried to kill her two other times prior to Weirdmageddon, but those were over much less risky things than control over the whole universe.

She throws herself against Ford’s sweater in a fit of choked sobs, and his arms are around her before she can even finish processing that she’s crying again.

“There, there, Mabel” Ford’s voice is cool and collected, but tinged with sadness to see her break down like this for the second time in three days. He rubs gentle circles into her back, quietly shushing her sobs, and the tender gesture of it all just makes Mabel cry even harder. “It’s okay, Mabel. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe, thanks to you”. He gently pats her hair, and Mabel sniffles as she pulls away. Ford keeps his hand where it is, at the top of her head, and she hates how much of a grounding feeling it is.

“It’s not okay!” She yells, and more tears pour down her face. “You’re hurting! Bill could’ve killed you!” she gasps for air. “If we had shown up just five minutes later than we did, you could’ve been a goner!” She takes his other wrist, which was still wrapped around her to prevent her from falling off of his lap, and rolls it up to reveal the identical scar he’d just covered up moments ago. “These look worse than the time I pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven with my bare hands cause I was too excited to wait for them! I thought I was never gonna feel anything ever again!” She cries.

“Mabel, sweetie…”

“No!” she cries. “I don’t deserve to be called that. It’s all my fault he hurt you.” Her sobs quiet as her body seems to double-whammy her and send her into a panic attack, trembling uncontrollably against Ford’s chest. “It’s my fault”

There’s a gentle six-fingered hand on her cheek, and she looks up to warm brown eyes staring into hers with heartbroken worry. “It’s not your fault, my dear, Bill and I have a really complicated history together. Nothing you could’ve done would’ve changed that”

“That’s exactly my point! Bill may not have acted any differently, but I still could’ve!”

“What do you mean?”

Mabel wipes away her tears with her wrist again.

“It’s my fault everything happened in the first place. I’m the reason Bill got his hands on the...uh...rift, I think Dipper called it” she sniffles. “Bill caught up to me when I was all upset in the woods about arguing with Dipper, and told me he could fix things if I gave it to him, and I-”

She’s cut off by Ford’s hug around her tightening, like she just unlocked a set of keywords that’d make him never want to let go of her again.

“Mabel, I want you to listen to me very carefully”

She doesn’t say anything, but squeezes him in silent confirmation to let him know she’s still listening.

“Nothing that happened was your fault, okay? I need you to understand how genuine that statement is. It wouldn’t matter if Bill convinced you to smash the rift into the ground yourself. It wouldn’t matter if you handed it over without question, or if you shook his hand.”

“But-”

“Let me finish” he cuts her off, but the soft nature in his tone lets her know he isn’t upset. “Mabel, it doesn’t matter who said or did what because this is exactly how Bill liked to play his games. He knew you wouldn’t be thinking straight, he knew you wouldn’t question anything he asked you to do.” he reaches under his glasses to wipe at his own eyes. “He did the same thing to me when I was younger, Mabel. I called him my best friend. He convinced me to hang onto every word he ever said without giving them a second thought”

He pulls her away from the hug so he can look her in the eyes again. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever encountered in any dimension, Mabel. Don’t blame yourself for the mistakes I made when I was younger. If there’s anyone that should be blamed for the whole ordeal besides Bill, it should be me.”

“Grunkle Ford, don’t say that!”

He laughs quietly, bitterly. “I should have told you about the rift earlier, Mabel. I’m sorry I kept it a secret from you”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I know that you were just trying to keep me safe. Stan had to keep a lot of things from me, too”.

“No kidding…” Ford’s voice drifts off, which makes Mabel painfully aware of the fact she was currently holding a conversation with one of said things. He shakes his head. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that pitting all of the blame on yourself isn’t going to do you any good.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “...Stan and I had to learn that one the hard way. If you focus too much on the idea that all you’ve done is hurt people, you miss out on all of the times you’ve done good for other people.”

He smiles warmly.

“Dipper told me you were the one who stopped the portal from shutting down. I’m not sure I’d even still be alive if it weren’t for you. You’ve done so much good for the people you care about that anything else is nonexistent in comparison. You’re a wonderful person, Mabel, inside and out. If there ever were a person out there who truly was pure of heart, I can say in all honesty that I think it’d be you”.

Mabel’s on the verge of crying again. She throws herself at him in another hug, and he’s quick to hug her back.

“You’re a wonderful person too, Grunkle Ford. I don’t want you to forget that either”.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she could hear him sniffle at the remark.

#my writing #gravity falls

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noirewrites · 4 years

Text

For You, I Will Cross Any Waters

Fandom: Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Pairing: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain Cheng

@art-the-f-up sorry this comes a lot late!

I live! Okay, well, I know you guys know I live given I updated United as well as started with a Lukanette shot anddddd this fic is to blame for the Lukanette one, I swear! You will see why in the next chapter. Also, this is the chapter where the story finally develops — aka, where I diverge from the plot list for Ladynoir July 2020 as well. I wanted to put this along with Day 6 prompt, but the chapter got twice the usual length and seemed so awkward that I now have one finished and one half written chapter now xD

Thanks for bearing with me, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Chapter 6: Meeting the Future Bride

A beautiful melody echoed through the wide room. As the final chord was struck, the door opened.

“Adrien, your Father wishes to meet you,” the woman at the door said in a monotone, causing the blond at the piano to turn his attention to her.

“Is it about yesterday, Nathalie?” He asked nonchalantly.

“He didn’t disclose the purpose of the meeting.”

Adrien sighed. “Fine, I will be down in five minutes.”

As Nathalie left, Adrien distractedly pressed the piano keys again. Suddenly, the top of his black piano moved a bit and acid green eyes morphed into the instrument, blinking at him. Adrien suppressed a bark of laughter before shaking his head lightly. Reaching over, he moved his hand over the shiny surface, causing the piano to purr a bit. Finally, he got hold of something firm, and plucked the black cat out of the piano.

The cat hissed a bit at the sudden interruption from its relaxation, letting out a small yowl as Adrien cuddled it in his arms. But as the blond stroked his fur, the yowling died down to give way for purring.

“Say, Plagg, you have a knack of spooking me out, don’t you?” Adrien chuckled, dodging his finger away from the cat’s reach as it tried to bite him.

“Whatever kid, I am angry that you disturbed my peaceful catnap,” the cat snarked.

“But you are liking the cuddles~~”

The feline chose not to reply, opting to cuddle closer to his owner.

As he stroked Plagg absentmindedly, Adrien quietly asked, “What do you think Father wants to talk about?”

“Would bet my entire cheese stash this is about last night’s shenanigans,” came the reply.

Adrien sighed and put the cat down, “Guess I brought this upon myself. Stay hidden while I am gone, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Plagg said as he waved a dismissive paw in the air.

Shaking his head lightly, the blond walked out of his room in the direction of the atelier. The atelier where his father was waiting for him, probably to deliver to him another lecture on maturity and responsibility.

Reaching the grand doors, Adrien felt a bout of uneasiness pass over him. Years of subjugation to his father’s wishes had still left their impressions in adulthood. No matter how independent he wished to be, he sometimes couldn’t help but feel as if he was still held under Gabriel’s iron grip.

Knocking on the giant doors, the blond took a deep breath in, trying to calm his racing heart. A monotonous “Come in” came from the inside, prompting him to reach forward and enter the room.

Gabriel Agreste stood behind his desk, his eyes sifting through some random sketches. He spent a good moment or two at his task before turning his attention to Adrien, his neutral expression giving way to a slight frown.

“Hello, Father,” the blond greeted.

“Hello, Adrien. Can I have the pleasure of knowing where you were last night? For my reputation at the ball was severely compromised thanks to your frolicking,” Gabriel asked, cutting to the chase immediately.

Something in Adrien bristled. It had been a long time since his Father had had a proper conversation with him. Still, when they met again, the first thing the older Agreste cared about was Adrien’s whereabouts, and that too just because the Agreste reputation had been compromised?

Doing his best to not let his frustrations seep into his tone, Adrien replied in a cold monotone, “I was away from the ball, Father, to escape the clutches of all those high-class women who apparently were stickier than the stickiest glue we have.”

The older Agreste cocked an eyebrow as he held his chin thoughtfully, his mouth upturned in a slight smile. “Hmm, I guess you have got a point there, young man. Those ladies certainly didn’t care about your personal space, did they?”

The statement baffled Adrien. Was his Father actually agreeing with him for once?

Gabriel walked towards Adrien, clapping his hand on the younger Agreste’s shoulder as he proudly said, “Well, don’t worry son. You won’t have to encounter those ladies again.”

He turned his head up, looking in the direction of the doors before calling out, “Nathalie, please bring our guest in.”

The doors opened and someone walked in. Adrien turned around, only for his gaze to land on the strange new girl who stood in the atelier.

She wore a black satin evening dress with bell sleeves, overlaid in dark orange chiffon and black lace. The sweetheart neckline was a bit too deep for his liking. But what really unnerved the young man was the twinkle in her olive green eyes and the smile etched on her red-painted lips.

“Adrien, meet Ms. Lila Rossi. She has been eager to meet you since yesterday,” Gabriel informed.

“Um, hello?” Adrien greeted her, confused. “You have some news for me?”

He hoped against hope she hadn’t been present at yesterday’s ball, for that would only mean —

The young woman let out a shrill chuckle as she held his shoulder. “I now see what Monsieur Agreste meant by you being a ray of sunshine. Oh dear, I am your fiancée!”

On hearing her claim, Adrien immediately shrank away from her touch, “But—But I don’t even know you!”

He turned to his Father, eyes sparking in rage. “You said I could choose my bride!”

“And you refused that offer by running away, young man. That is no excuse to delay your wedding day.”

The young man tried hard not to grit his teeth at his Father’s words.

“As Adrien stated,” Gabriel turned to Lila, smiling, “You both don’t know each other. Then how about you young people solve that?” Gabriel suggested, heading for the door. “I have an important meeting I need to attend. Hope you two enjoy each other’s company.”

Saying what he needed to, the older Agreste left, leaving a shy Lila and a flabbergasted Adrien behind.

“So,” Lila spoke in a coy tone, “how about we go somewhere private and get to know each other?”

She subtly hooked her arm on his elbow, her fingers lightly trailing up his arms, causing him to cringe. “Somewhere like your ro—”

“The river side!” Adrien interrupted her, much to her chagrin. “The riverside’s a cool idea, Ms. Rossi. Fresh air with much needed quiet.”

And open space , he mentally added sourly.

Putting on his best grin as he approached the door, Adrien asked in a faux cheerful tone, “So, shall we go?”

Lila blinked stupidly for a moment, then broke into a coy smile of her own. “Sure, Adrien.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And my uncle was a student of the great Beethoven, oh! I wish I had learnt some piano from him before he passed away,” the brunette said in a simpering tone, dabbing at her eyes to wipe away the non-existent tears.

Beside her, Adrien plastered a sympathetic look on his face as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. In the fifteen minutes he had spent with her, this Rossi girl had just bragged on and on about her family and her charity work.

According to her, she personally knew many famous people around the globe. Surprisingly, even though he was an Agreste, Adrien had never heard someone mention the title Rossi in any influential circle, let alone specifically name Lila.

Though he had to commend her on one thing. The woman had a fabulous ability to weave false stories and lie through her teeth.

“Oh, Adrien,” Lila cooed, holding his arm in what was meant to be a soft gesture but certainly was not, causing him to lean back a bit, “I have been talking only about myself all this time. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

He nervously chuckled, rubbing at the nape of his neck in anxiety, “I—uh, you already know much about me, I am not someone unknown in the high-class, right? Uhm, how about you ask me yourself?”

The brunette held her chin in a thoughtful look, apparently thinking of some topic to converse on. Adrien took the beat of silence as a chance to gaze at the river that flowed beside him, his heart calming down a bit on seeing the sparkling waters. Thoughts about the masked beauty who lived underneath the surface helped his anxiety, too.

“Oh! I know what to ask!” Lila suddenly exclaimed, jerking him back to reality. “Is there anything about you that no one knows?”

“Something about me that no one knows?” the blond echoed her question.

“Yes,” she affirmed, leaning into his personal space and causing him to stagger back a little, “you know, since we are soon going to be married, there better be no secrets between us!”

He couldn’t help but stammer. “I, uh—”

Know what? I have a magical cheese-loving black cat who gives me the power to transform into Chat Noir and ALSO! I already have a love interest, a mermaid called Ladybug who is far more beautiful and truthful than you! And woe to me if I am going to tell you anything about this!

Pausing his internal thoughts, Adrien looked towards the river in an attempt to calm himself down. And then an answer came to him.

“Well, since you asked,” he turned to catch Lila’s attention, before looking back at the river again, “I have always felt connected to water.”

“Connected to… water?” Lila echoed his words, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Yes.” The man’s eyes sparkled as he walked to the riverbank and bent down, slightly gliding his hand on the water surface and bringing his wet hand to his eyes, immediately feeling a shiver of pleasure run down his spine. “I feel like the water’s calling out to me, asking me to be one with it.”

There was a pregnant silence between the two, before it was broken by the sound of stifled chuckles. Confused, Adrien turned his head to see the brunette holding a palm over her mouth to prevent laughter from escaping her.

“Did I say something funny, Miss Rossi?” the man asked, his cold tone poorly masking the offense he felt.

“Oh, I-I am sorry Adrien, but…” her voice trailed off as she stifled another laughter, before continuing, “Your thoughts match with the pests of the water.”

“And?” He prompted her, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Well—” the young woman looked at him as if he had asked her about why water existed. Coughing a bit to regain her composure, she continued, “—uhm, you are an Agres—”

“I know who I am and let me tell you, Lila Rossi, my Father’s name does not define my thoughts. I am an independent individual with my own thoughts and feelings, and even if they match with the mermaids or what you call the ‘pests of the water’; I am actually glad they do.”

Getting up, he reached towards Lila, his acidic green eyes causing her to stagger back a bit.

“I-I really didn’t mea-mean to off—” she stammered.

“Save it.”

Saying so, the blond walked off, leaving behind a shocked, yet fuming Rossi girl.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, so she’s just like your Father. And?” Plagg nonchalantly asked, pawing at the ball of yarn that Adrien had tossed to him and completely ignoring his human who laid in his bed, face buried in the pillows.

Adrien lifted his head and exclaimed, “She’s my fiancée, Plagg!”

And plopped his face back into the pillows, muffling his screams.

The cat sighed, pushing the yarn ball away and shaking his head remorsefully. He strutted over to the bed and jumped on his chosen’s back.

“You humans and your melodrama.”

“Whatever, it’s not like you have a secret love interest, you cheese monster,” came the muffled reply.

The cat bounced on the man’s back, before lightly scratching him with a claw and causing him to yelp. “Mind you, my love interest is your Bug’s guardian.”

Adrien turned his head to the side, glancing at his animal friend as a smirk adorned his face.

“Wasn’t Camembert the first and last love of your life?”

“Shush you,” Plagg nudged him on the face, causing the blond to giggle. “Now, if you have stopped moping about your currently messed up civilian life, what plans do you have for wooing your Lady fish tonight?”

Adrien blushed a bit, before his gaze turned to the piano that still stood in the middle of the room. He thought for a moment, then an idea dawned on him.

“I guess I have just the perfect plan, Plagg.”

#mlb fanfic #mermaid marinette dupain cheng #lila #adrien #mermaid au

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heavens-bookshop · 5 years

Text

merry christmas

(This is mostly just an excuse for me to project my own issues with family and the holidays. I wanted to write at least one thing for @drawlight‘s Ineffable Advent Calendar event but I didn’t end up having much time in December. “Love” seemed like a good theme for this. Excuse the sloppiness.)

It was strange being back in Tadfield. Neither of them had been for a visit since they’d averted Armageddon and had largely intended to avoid setting foot there ever again. However, Aziraphale insisted it would be rather rude to turn down an invitation to Christmas dinner, and while Crowley couldn’t have given a toss about bad manners, he was somewhat lacking in willpower when it came to Aziraphale. So, after a quick jaunt down the M40 in the Bentley, they found themselves approaching the doorstep of Jasmine Cottage holding the fanciest bottle of wine Aziraphale was willing to part with. There’d been some initial awkwardness stirred up by the damned horseshoe hanging above the threshold - Aziraphale had been entirely unwilling to allow Crowley to enter the house until Anathema had assured him that it had no power over invited guests (demon or otherwise). But it didn't take long after that for things to settle into something resembling pleasantness.

Everyone from the airfield was there. The Them were in full attendance alongside their parents, who all seemed terribly confused by the strange assortment of people their children had befriended but nodded along politely as they were regaled with tales of vanquishing War and Death. Sergeant Shadwell was talking Newt's ear off in the corner while Anathema fled to the kitchen under the pretense of needing to check on the roast. Madame Tracy sidled up to Crowley's elbow, beaming as she congratulated the pair of them.

"Oh, you should have heard the thoughts that went through his head when you turned up in your car!" she said with a cheeky grin. Crowley bit down his laughter as Aziraphale's face turned a few shades shy of the red wine in his glass.

"I think I'll go check on our lovely host in the kitchen," he said tightly, turning on his heel. Crowley watched in silent amusement as he disappeared through a cheerfully decorated doorway, while Madame Tracy continued chattering away about what a handsome pair they made.

A few drinks later, Crowley found he was in fact having a what could be described as A Good Time. It wasn't until he'd finished successfully convincing Anathema, Adam and Pepper that the Earth is shaped like a tetrahedron that he realised he hadn't seen Aziraphale in a while. He excused himself from the living room and started wandering through the corridor, following the faint trail of angelic energy to the back of the house. Through a window, Crowley spotted a pale figure with a crown of platinum blonde curls sitting on a bench at the bottom of the garden. He slipped through the back door and picked his way across the garden path, feet moving silently over the flagstones. When he got a few steps from the bench, he heard Aziraphale sniffle and sigh heavily.

"Aziraphale?"

The angel startled and quickly dragged his hands down his face.

"Oh, my dear, I didn't see you there," Aziraphale said in a watery voice.

Crowley settled himself down next to him on the bench. When he could finally get a look at Aziraphale, it ripped his heart open a little. His face was flushed and blotchy, and - despite his best efforts to wipe away the evidence - his cheeks were damp.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, gently laying a hand on top of the angel's knee.

Aziraphale smiled half-heartedly and nodded his head. “Yes, of course, it’s nothing really.”

That was obviously a lie. Even without the thousands of years of practise, Crowley could have spotted it. Aziraphale had never been good at lying. But Crowley understood how difficult it still was for him to not just default to hiding his feelings. He understood how difficult it was to avoid falling back on the old habits that used to keep them both safe. So he sat in patient silence, stroking the side of his knee with the pad of his thumb. Finally, Aziraphale heaved a tired sigh.

“I suppose I just wasn’t prepared for how difficult Christmas would be," he said quietly. "It was always a busy time, you know. I used to get far more assignments around Christmas. Possibly the one time of year I felt that I was actually doing some good."

Aziraphale turned his gaze up to the sky, his profile outlined in silver moonlight. Not that long ago, Crowley would have been falling over himself to commit the view to memory, save it for a lonely night.

"I know it's silly," he said, not quite able to hide the quiver in his voice. "I'm much happier without any of them, I can actually enjoy my life now. But it still feels like I've lost something. It… somehow feels like I'm the one who's done something terribly wrong."

There was a blunt ache in Crowley's chest, a burnt out hole left by the grace that had been torn from him millennia ago - the dull pain of a phantom limb. He'd never wanted Aziraphale to feel anything close to it.

"It's not silly," he replied, squeezing his knee.

Aziraphale covered his hand with his own, soft and warm and wonderfully familiar now. There was a fragile smile on his face, and it lanced Crowley right in the heart.

"It feels silly."

Crowley wanted desperately to take away his pain, to draw the venom out of the wound. He remembered the little surprise he'd prepared, tucked next to his chest. It was something he’d meant to give him later, something he’d hoped might look like a sweeping romantic gesture, but this seemed like the right time for it.

"I've got something for you," he said.

He withdrew his hand from the warmth of Aziraphale's palm, reached into the inside of his jacket and produced a small wooden box. The angel plucked it from Crowley's fingers, turning it over a few times and inspecting the design made of inlays of mother-of-pearl. A small heart embraced by two wings.

"I thought we said we weren't going to bother with getting each other gifts."

"I've had it for a long time, doesn't really count," Crowley replied, waving off the protests. "I'm just passing it along."

Aziraphale pried open the box and gingerly dropped the contents into his hand - a small, very weathered coin.

"Is that… an old sixpence? What on Earth are you doing with one of these still on you?"

The coin winked at them from the middle of his palm as it glinted in the light spilling out from the cottage.

"I don't expect you'd remember, but it was one of the times we were at The Globe, watching our old mate Will put together the debut of Hamlet. We were figuring out who was going to draw the short straw and hike all the way up to Edinburgh."

Aziraphale chuckled softly and swiped his thumb over the surface of the coin.

"And we tossed for it," he said, smiling. "Of course I remember, darling. You kept this for four hundred years?"

Crowley gently nudged the angel with his shoulder.

"I did. Every time I found it in my pocket, I thought of you." He reached out with slender hands to close Aziraphale's fingers around the coin. "And it reminded me that no matter how alone I felt, how rejected by Heaven or hated by Hell I was, there was someone in the universe that cared about me. There was someone on my side."

Aziraphale smiled at him - a smile that put crinkles at the corners of his eyes and shifted a few tears loose.

"Oh, Crowley."

He wrapped his arms around the demon's neck to pull him in for a kiss, enveloping the both of them in a golden haze of tender affection. When they parted, they settled into each other's arms, with Aziraphale's head nestled in the crook of Crowley's neck. Blonde curls tickled at his jaw, and Crowley buried his face into them, into the familiar scent of sandalwood and rosewater. They sat like that for some time, listening to the muted voices floating down the garden from the house alongside the soft rush of the motorway somewhere close by. Aziraphale leaned his weight a little further into Crowley's shoulder and began turning the coin over between his manicured fingers.

"I can't believe you kept this," he said with a chuckle.

Crowley craned his neck to get closer to the angel's ear and smirked.

"And I can't believe you never even considered I'd cheat at the coin toss."

Aziraphale sat straight up and threw him a look of mock outrage, the cheeky spark that Crowley loved dearly dancing in his eyes.

"You wily old snake," he said with a grin.

Crowley pulled him back in against his chest, their noses almost touching.

"You did always think the best of me," he said, tilting his head to kiss him. "Even if it was entirely undeserved."

The warmth of Aziraphale's hand caressed his cheek.

"I love you, Crowley."

It had been months now, but the words still made his heart backflip inside his rib cage.

"Love you too, angel."

After one more kiss, Aziraphale stood up, straightening out his waistcoat with a few sharp tugs.

"I think I'm ready to go back inside," he said with a gentle smile.

Crowley rose to his feet as well, taking the time to enjoy the way the light of the waning moon caught the tips of his curls. He took the angel's hand in his and they walked back up the garden path together, towards the kindness and laughter of their gathered friends, towards a houseful of people Crowley knew loved his angel the way he always should have been.

#good omens #31 days of ineffables #prompt fill #ineffable husbands #my fics #i guess this was more cathartic than anything else

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

Photo

Carry On Countdown Day 11: Angst

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664300

Above is the lovely artwork created by the talented @fight-surrender for my Carry On Countdown fic for today! It was originally going to be for the magical creatures prompt (before it morphed into a Carry On prequel with a dash of parental figures before taking a deep dive into angst)!

Summary: Young Baz deals with his concerns and anxieties about his eventual transition to full vampire state. There is support for him, from unexpected sources, but it doesn't make the realizations and realities all that much easier to face. But sometimes it's good to know you aren't completely alone. (Warnings for mentions of blood, feeding, and the family dog from Wayward Son) Title from the David Bowie song.

Scary Monsters

Four Years Ago

Baz

I don’t like the lodge much. We aren’t here often so it doesn’t feel like home.

My room is smaller here. It doesn’t have gargoyles so I suppose that’s something, but I miss my books. I miss the library. The one here isn’t as grand. The books are older, dustier, darker. Ones Father would rather not have on display.

They don’t hold much appeal for a ten-year-old, even though I read far above my age level.

But Father is intent on letting Daphne become familiar with each of our estates this summer so we’ve been traveling from one to the other since June. They started in the south of France. Daphne offered to have me go with them, but Fiona wouldn’t hear of it.

“For Crowley’s sake, who takes a child along on their honeymoon?” Fiona had snorted. “You’d think Malcolm would come up with something a little more exciting than Bordeaux for you, Daphne, but then again it is Malcolm so I suppose you’re lucky he isn’t taking you to the estate in Galloway.”

She’d ignored Father’s indignant huff. “You’ll have all the time in the world with Baz. This is just two weeks, for Christ’s sake.” Fiona swears like a Normal when she’s worked up. “Take a few days alone with Malcolm. See if you can get that stick-in-the-mud to lighten up a little.” Daphne had made some protestation but Fiona had cut her off. “Baz will be fine with me.”

That’s how I managed to spend two weeks in London at Fiona’s new flat.

It was brilliant. We hit all the typical tourist stops--The Tower, The London Eye, Westminster, the markets at Covent Garden, but she also took me to the cinema to see Ratatouille and The Globe to see A Comedy of Errors.

It was the best part of my summer.

We ended up going to Galloway after all, once Father and Daphne returned from France. It was cold and rainy the entire time. And now we’re near Oxford, at the lodge. We’ve got one more week here and then I finally get to go home.

To my room. Gargoyles and all. Back to my books, my violin. Back to tennis lessons at the Club. Back home. Where everything is familiar.

Except for Daphne. She’ll be new there.

But I like Daphne. Truly, I do. She’s kind and she doesn’t push. I think she’ll be good for Father. I think she already has been. It’s nice to see him smile more.

But that leaves me frightfully bored at the moment. Vera went to the market and Father and Daphne have been sorting books for hours.

Fiona’s in London.

There aren’t any neighbours for miles.

I finished reading all the books I brought with me and I don’t fancy looking for more in the library. Father will probably set me to work alphabetizing the ones he’s sorted.

I’d rather not.

I mope around my room for a bit longer and then trudge downstairs to find something to eat. Vera made a trifle yesterday and I’m sure there’s some still in the refrigerator. Daphne finds me poking about in the kitchen and serves me up a healthy portion of trifle without me even having to ask.

“What are you up to today, Basil? Another book? Or a tramp out in the garden?”

“I finished the books I brought with me.”

“Ah. That’s a bit troublesome.” She shakes her head and gives me a smile. “Not much for you in the library here, that’s for certain.” She tilts her head. “Unless you’d care to tackle The Iliad in the original Greek? There are one or two copies at least, if you’d like one. Malcolm says you’ve got a good grasp of it already.”

I do. But probably not enough to puzzle out Homer. Not yet. As much as I love languages I don’t feel like plodding through Greek today. I don’t feel like doing much of anything. I’m restless but blank on inspiration.

I wish I’d thought to bring my violin.

I shake my head and scoop up the last bit of trifle.

“Maybe take a turn in the garden?” Daphne suggests. “It’s a nice enough day, not too bright or hot.”

She knows, of course. It’s something Father told her when things had become serious between them. Before he had asked her to marry him.

I think her response to his revelation made his decision.

She’s never said anything to me about it. Father told me he had spoken to her, assured me she is most concerned about how she can help, when the time comes.

When the time comes.

I don’t think any of us know when that’s going to be. Father rarely speaks of it. Fiona never mentions it. I’ve no idea what to expect, other than what I’ve read in the library at home. Books I’ve pulled down from the high shelves, the dark corners of the library. Books full of hearsay and folk tales, lurid second hand accounts and likely more fiction than fact.

None of which helps.

I’ll be heading to Watford once I turn eleven. A place where no one will know about me and where I won’t have anyone to walk me through whatever might happen.

I can hope that it occurs when I’m home but there’s no guarantee.

I take Daphne’s suggestion and go out to the garden but there’s nothing to do there either. I walk by the roses. I go to the back where the herb garden is. The scents all mingle here--mint, basil, coriander, sage. I can smell them all, even if I don’t pick the leaves and crush them between my fingers.

I wonder about that. I wonder if it means something. If the transition is coming. It’s in the books. The books about vampires. It’s one of the few things that seems to be consistently reported--the heightened senses.

Vision, hearing, smell.

It’s mentioned in most of the accounts--along with the blood lust, the pale skin, the ferocious strength (the bit about garlic is rot) (pesto is full of garlic and I’ve never had a problem).

I can’t say I’ve experienced anything like blood lust. Not that I’d know what that is, really. I like a good steak, preferably rare, but I’m not raiding the refrigerator for raw cuts of meat or developing a craving for blood pudding (I hate it actually).

I am pale. It seems like my skin fades a bit more each year.

In the photos with Mother I look . . . well, I look like her, I suppose.

I don’t anymore.

I’m not particularly stronger than other children my age, not that I can tell. I have a solid serve but I’ve been getting tennis lessons since I was six. I should hope I’m decent at it by now. It would be embarrassing for the Club instructor if I wasn’t. I beat Dev almost every time we play but it’s more that I pay attention than due to the quality of my game.

I’m better at football. I’ve got a vicious kick--not my words--it’s what my coach said to Father at the end of last season. It’s powerful and I’m fairly accurate but it’s not as if I can hurt someone with the way I drill a ball.

I’d never want to do that. I wouldn’t be able to play anymore. I love football. I’d miss it far too much. I don’t want to think about it. That this stupid condition will keep changing me and make me lose something else I love.

I’ve already lost the most important person in my life because of it.

How much more will get taken away?

I kick a rock off the path in frustration and wish I could kick something else.

I don’t want to be thinking about this but I can’t help it. There are so many questions but no one wants to talk about it. I think Father would rather pretend it never happened.

We talk about Mother but never about that. Never about me. Even Fiona avoids the subject.

I can’t remember much about that day. But what I do remember plays over and over in my head. It keeps me up at night, sometimes. The images flashing before my eyes.

I dream of it. I see Mother with the blue flames in her hands, the set of her jaw, the despair in her eyes when she saw the vampire snatch me up and sink his teeth in me.

The flames that followed.

The nightmares come. Sometimes weeks apart, other times two or three times in a week.

Father usually sits with me after. He strokes my hair and talks about everything but the reason for the nightmares. I know he’s trying. I don’t think he knows what else to do.

Fiona used to come, when she still lived with us. She was always up late and she’d hear me crying out in my sleep. She’d pop her head in and if Father wasn’t there yet she’d sit on the bed with me and tell me stories of her time at Watford. The pranks she and her friends would dream up and how Mother was at her wits end half the time trying to keep them all in line.

And then she’d sing. Not the traditional lullabies, not Fiona. That’s not her style. Her style is mainly 80’s alt rock but that isn't what she would sing to me.

She says my mother always loved the Beatles. So that’s what Fiona would sing.

She still does. She did when I stayed with her a few weeks ago, when the dreams came. There’s something particularly soothing about “I’m Only Sleeping.” I start humming it as I walk further down the path.

I wander around the side of the lodge, to the shed that’s there. It’s probably locked. When I jiggle the handle I don’t expect it to do anything, but to my surprise the door opens. I peer inside and I can see the garden equipment in the dim light.

But I can also see a football, dusty and dirt stained, tucked between the rakes and shovels. It must be one I left behind last time we were here. I dig it out and wipe it off.

Kicking a ball is better than thinking.

I could do with some practice. I dribble it down the lawn then back and forth between the shrubs. There’s a short break in the hedge and I shoot the ball there, well chuffed when I get it between the greenery. It’s a much smaller space than the goal we use for games.

I fetch the ball and dribble it again, shooting towards the hedge over and over, making more of the shots than not. This is good. I can feel the sweat running down my back but I don’t care. This is the most fun I’ve had since we’ve come to Oxford.

My next kick sends the ball over the hedge and into the woods. I chase after it as it rolls between the trees. It’s when I bend to pick it up that I catch a flash of red in the underbrush. I take a step closer but there’s nothing there.

I see it again a few moments later, when my ball has tumbled under the trees once more. Just a glimpse of red, glittering in the weak sunlight.

I wonder if it’s a snake. Do they have snakes in Oxford?

I don’t really want to find out.

But I am curious. I pick up a stick and gingerly poke at the leaves. Nothing comes out but I see a glimmer as I move the stick around. I push the leaves away and that’s when I see the broken pieces of shell scattered in the underbrush. The fragments are a shimmery rose color.

I’ve never seen anything like this. It must be a bird but what kind? I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help but pick up one of the pieces.

It has a thicker shell than the eggs Vera uses for cooking. Heavier. Warm. It glitters in my hand.

I put it in my pocket.

I wonder if there are any books about birds in the library.

Four years later

Baz

It’s been a few years since we’ve summered at the lodge. The arrival of my little sister kept us in Hampshire initially and the logistics of traveling with her kept us there last year as well.

Mordelia can be a bit of a handful under normal circumstances, but she’s not the best with travel. Her terrible twos have continued unabated into age three.

But Daphne wanted to get away for a bit this summer, so here we are.

She isn’t so fond of the Galloway estate, and now that she’s expecting again Father indulges her every whim. And this is where Daphne wanted to be, for a change of scenery she said. I can’t see that Oxford is all that different from home but I wasn’t about to argue the point with her when she’s expecting twins. She should get to do as she likes, I’m thinking.

It’s fine. I don’t mind so much. I far prefer being in Hampshire but I suppose I can tolerate a few more weeks here.

The library has an eclectic collection, that’s for certain. I’m surprised the Mage hasn’t made one of his surprise visits. Perhaps he doesn’t know about it. That may very well be why Father keeps some of the books here.

Not that I’ve found any books that are particularly helpful. For my condition, that is. We’ve been here for a week and I’ve looked through the ones that looked promising. Not much more detail than the ones back home.

I’ve learned about how to destroy someone like me.

But not about how to exist as someone like me.

It seems I am on my own as far as figuring things out.

Father and Daphne didn’t even say anything about . . . well, I don’t want to think about that. It’s beyond shame.

It’s revulsion.

The nights have been terrible since then. The dreams more vivid. The nightmares more frequent.

The thirst started a little over a month ago and I didn’t realize what it was at first. I was exhausted, worn out but hungry, so very hungry. Nothing satisfied me. Nothing filled the gnawing void in me.

I ate constantly. Vera laughed as she made me sandwiches and served heaping portions on my plate. “You’re a growing boy, Basilton. Teenage boys will eat you out of house and home. I’ll have to adjust the list for market days.”

I’d tried to laugh too but the thundering beat of her heart was drowning out almost everything by then.

That was new too. Hearing the heartbeats of those around me, sensing the quickening of a pulse, the steady thump of blood coursing through arteries. I tried to drown it out--with music, with my violin, with running. Repeating Latin declensions in my head.

None of that has worked very well.

I tried to satisfy the thirst. First with blood pudding (I still don’t like it). Then I made sure to ask Vera to keep the roast beef rare for me.

It wasn’t enough.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop hearing the thrum of pulsing blood all around me.

And then . . . then . . . I lost control the day Father and Daphne went to London for her appointment.

I hadn’t meant to do it. I’d spent the entire morning desperately chasing rabbits and squirrels to no avail. I hadn’t managed to do more than scrape my leg up and get grass stains on my jeans.

Vera was away and no matter how much food she’d left for me, it didn’t make a difference.

I felt so empty.

Painfully empty. A desperate abyss of hunger.

Until after. When the blood was sloshing in my belly and for the first time in weeks I felt the thirst subside. And the shame and regret took over.

No one mentioned it. Not Father, not Daphne. Not Vera, although I think Father cast something to make her forget.

Not me.

The only one who said anything was Mordelia. And it broke my heart every time she asked.

Father must have spoken to her finally, told her he’d run off, made some excuse. I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to ask. But she stopped, finally stopped asking.

My craving didn’t stop. If anything it got worse, once I’d tasted blood. I couldn’t risk getting that desperate again. I had to find a way to deal with it.

I’ve figured out how to catch the squirrels. The rabbits still give me fits. But I’m faster now. I’m stealthier. I caught one here two days ago and didn’t even stain my shirtfront that time, just my sleeves. That’s progress, I suppose.

It disgusts me, if I’m going to be honest. Every part of it. The hunt, the chase, the feel of the fur between my hands as I snap the neck (I can’t drink when it’s alive) (I can never do that again). The way my fangs drop and then latch on. Even the first taste turns my stomach. But then . . . then the warmth of it fills me, the hunger recedes and I almost feel like myself again.

Until I have to dispose of the drained corpse.

That’s when the horror comes once more. At what I’ve done. At what I am. That this is my life, from now on. I scrub my hands and brush my teeth over and over, but it doesn’t wipe away the memory.

All I can do is promise myself that I will be as humane as possible when I do it (as if that isn’t a colossal joke) (there’s nothing humane about any of this).

But I can try. I can remember to respect the life I take. To be as quick and painless as possible. To never take more than enough to get by. To be judicious as to what and where and how.

I need to stop thinking.

I need to stop thinking about this.

I’ve read all the novels I’ve brought with me from Hampshire and I’m done searching for any answers about myself in the arcane books here. I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve found nothing useful and all it’s managed to do is make me even more frustrated and depressed.

I scan the library shelves for lighter reading. Something to distract me, if that’s even possible.

I run across a leather-bound edition of The Iliad and settle into one of the armchairs to read. I know the Minotaur doesn’t have us translate Homer from the original verse until seventh year, but I’m fluent enough in Greek already and I enjoy a challenge.

It’s hours later when Daphne finds me and I’ll not deny the fact that I was asleep with the book resting on my chest.

She sweeps the hair back from my forehead and smiles down at me. “Achilles not providing enough excitement for you?”

I close the book and sit up. “No, it’s just a bit more challenging in the original Greek, I suppose.”

Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder and her eyes soften. “Are you getting enough sleep, Basil?”

I nod. I’m not but I don’t need to burden Daphne with that. She’s got enough going on, with Mordelia and this pregnancy. She’s pale, almost as pale as I am, and even though she’s not that far along she’s still thinner than she should be, I think.

Her heartbeat’s steady though, as are the faint tandem beats that echo from her belly. I’d have said something to Father if they hadn’t been, even if it meant admitting how I knew. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to Daphne. She means too much to me, to Father, to this family.

I’ve not answered her question and her gaze has gone from questioning to concerned. I pat her hand. “Well, enough. You know it always takes me a bit to adjust to a new place."

Which is bollocks but better than admitting the truth about the nightmares.

She grips my shoulder tightly. “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

“I’d tell you,” I lie.

“Alright, then.” She drops her hand and her lips curve into a smile. “Are you hungry? Shall we see if there’s any pudding left from dinner last night?”

“I wouldn't say no to that.” I smile back up at her. “You’re sure Mordy didn’t finish it off already?”

“Mordelia’s taking a nap so this may be our chance.”

Daphne has as much of a sweet tooth as I do. There’s a bit of berry crumble left and the two of us polish it off bite by bite.

“You’ll spoil your dinner, you will,” Vera grumbles, as she takes the empty baking dish from us and shakes her head.

Daphne laughs. “I don’t think anything will spoil Baz’s appetite for one of your roasts, Vera, and I’m eating for three at this point so poor Malcolm will be lucky if we leave him a morsel."

She’s right. The four of us polish off Vera’s generous portions at dinner that evening, even Mordelia who is usually frightfully picky about what she eats.

It’s still not enough. It’s been two days since the rabbit and I can feel the thirst gnawing at me again.

I excuse myself after dinner, on the pretense of doing some drills at the back of the garden. I do, dragging out the football and aiming some kicks at the space between the hedges. But it’s all just cover for the hunting I need to quell this thirst.

I chase the ball into the trees and let my eyes and ears take in the sounds around me. A squirrel should do, although a rabbit would be better.

I’m not sure I can handle anything larger. Not yet, which is as depressing a thought as it sounds. I need to get better at this but the reality of how I need to go about that is dispiriting to say the least.

I can hear the squirrels chittering and birds chirping. I stalk one of the squirrels but it shoots up into the branches and I’m not about to go climbing after it. I have my limits.

I go in a bit deeper and crouch down by one of the larger trees. There’s still a bit of light left although it’s dimmer here under the trees. I watch and wait, seeing the squirrels rush from tree limb to trunk, then down to the ground and up far too quickly for me to pursue.

It’s probably easier to catch one on the lawn, like I did the other day, but I don’t want to chance someone seeing me from the house. Crowley knows if anyone did, but I’d rather not give them a repeat performance.

I scan the trees, the underbrush, the shadowy spaces between the trees, and that’s when I see a flash of red deeper in the forest, between the trunks of the birch trees up ahead.

Is it a fox?

I creep a little deeper into the woods. A fox would likely provide more sustenance than a squirrel or even a rabbit but they are a protected species and the thought of draining one disturbs me, in more than just the general sense of how all of this is disturbing.

I’ve never liked the idea of fox hunts. Contributing to the demise of a protected species doesn’t sit well with me.

None of this bloody sits well with me. I’ve got no choice as far as the feeding goes--I have no idea what might happen if I try to stave it off. I’m actually a bit scared to find out, especially in a house full of people.

I don’t think resisting is an option. I can swear off ever taking human blood but I don’t think I’ll be able to withhold myself from all blood, not anymore. I was half crazed with need that first day and look what happened. I’ll have to live with the regret and guilt of that.

I see the flash of red between the trees again. I don’t think it’s a fox. It's too bright, catching the light in a way I wouldn’t expect from a fox.

Odd.

But familiar in a way I can’t quite explain.

The light is starting to fade, as the sun dips down in the sky. The squirrels are keeping their distance, staying up in the trees rather than scampering across the spaces between.

This won’t do. I need to find something. Anything.

I move further in, slowly and silently. Well, as silently as I can. I’m not particularly skilled at it yet, although I’ve gotten better over the past few weeks.

I’ll need to get better still.

I see movement to my left and I freeze, holding my breath. It’s a rabbit, sizeable and plump. Exactly what I need.

It’s out of reach but thank Crowley it takes two hops in my direction, bringing it almost close enough. I hold perfectly still, barely breathing, willing the rabbit to take one more hop, maybe two to bring it within my reach.

It does just that.

I burst from my hiding spot, arms outstretched, my fingers brushing at and then clenching in the rabbit’s fur, at the same time as a red streak lets loose from across the clearing, colliding with me and almost knocking the rabbit from my grasp.

There’s a confused moment where I feel the rabbit being pulled from my hands. A growl rips from my throat and I tighten my grip but almost drop my prey when I see what’s fighting me for it.

It looks like some sort of oversized lizard or iguana but that can’t be right. They’re not native to England.

That’s when I see the wings.

Fucking hell.

It's a dragon.

It can’t be. Dragons are known to be reclusive and extremely wary of humans.

Apparently not this one. This one is involved in a full out tug of war with me for this rabbit.

It can’t be a dragon.

It’s too small, for one thing. It’s no bigger than a spaniel. And it’s certainly not reclusive or wary. It hisses at me and that’s when I remember about dragons and fire. I drop the rabbit as if it were a hot coal and scuttle away, breathing rapidly.

What the bloody hell.

I’m staring at it, at the iridescent glitter of its scales and I can’t help but be reminded of something. Something in this very wood, years ago.

A shard of eggshell, thick and warm, rose-colored and glittering.

Could this be a baby dragon? I know it’s been years since I found the shell, so it’s not quite a baby dragon anymore but it’s still a youngster.

Dragons are immortal (unless they have the misfortune to run into my insufferable and indiscriminate roommate Simon Snow and end up hacked to bits) but they grow very slowly after they hatch. This one must be just a few years old.

The dragon glares at me and hisses again, talons digging into the rabbit’s fur (it must be a dragon, what else could it be) (It can’t be an iguana) (iguanas don’t have wings or talons). It nearly gets knocked over as the rabbit struggles mightily. The damn rabbit is near as big as the dragon but the daft thing isn’t intimidated by the size of its prey. I can see drops of blood in the rabbit’s fur now and my fangs drop at the scent of it.

The dragon bites at the rabbit’s throat and the rabbit goes limp, more blood welling at its neck.

I see its wings flutter but the dragon doesn’t appear to be able to fly with the weight of the rabbit. I’m pressed against the tree, not daring to get closer. Do baby dragons breath fire or is that something only the adults can do? Surely we’ve studied this but I can’t for the life of me remember right now.

It’s crucial information.

The dragon struggles with its wings for a moment more and then stops and decides to drag the rabbit carcass into a shadowy recess across the clearing, keeping its golden eyes on me as it retreats.

Its scales glow and even in the failing light of the setting sun I can see the shimmer of them, glittering gold and scarlet and a deep blood red. It’s beautiful.

The books don’t do dragons justice.

I can’t take my eyes off of it. I stare until it disappears in the twilight shadows and then let my breath out shakily.

It takes me almost twenty minutes to finally corner a squirrel and drain it dry. It’ll have to do for tonight. It’s near dark now and my excuse of kicking a football around is wearing thin.

I’m out again the next day and the one after that but I don’t see the dragon again until two days later, in the late afternoon.

It’s not as bright, the clouds covering the sun, so I miss seeing the glint of the scales until it lunges at the rabbit I’ve been stalking.

Not so fast, you bastard. I’ve spent the last two days in the library, doing my research on dragons. I know this one is young, likely less than five years old based on its size and that it’s not able to breathe fire at this stage. Soon enough but not quite yet. That’s why it hissed at me, rather than send a gout of flames in my direction. Lucky for me.

I get a grip on the rabbit and I’m not about to let go. Unfortunately it seems the dragon feels much the same way. We struggle in the dirt for a moment or two but then the damn thing rakes a claw across the back of my hand and I drop my hold on the rabbit’s hindquarters with a curse.

“You fucking arsehole,” I say, as the dragon hisses and glares whilst dragging this rabbit back to it’s nest among the trees. That’s twice now.

I need a better strategy.

The idea comes to me later that night. Maybe if the dragon gets food some other way it won’t fight me for it. I’ve got at least another ten days here at the lodge. I don’t intend to be wrestling in the dirt with a cantankerous midget dragon for the duration.

I don’t dare nick food from the kitchen. Vera runs a tight ship and she knows when even one biscuit goes missing.

I’ll have to find another way.

Another way unfortunately involves me and a bicycle and some rambling excuse that revolves around “better cardio” and “cross-training for football season.” It’s all rot, of course, but no one questions me so I pedal my way to the butcher shop to buy some cuts of fresh beef.

Then it’s just a matter of drawing the dragon out.

It works better than expected. The smell of the fresh meat draws it out. I get a suspicious glare in my direction but I sit quietly under a tree, pretending to be engrossed in the book I’m reading, as the dragon eyes the morsel I’ve left it and then sniffs it daintily.

It’s really quite lovely.The wings are webbed and delicate, almost see-through when stretched out, sharp spikes at the joints. The scales sparkle in the light, a mesmerizing range of red hues. I can see the sharp teeth, the curved talons, the spade like tail lashing back and forth.

It seems the first phase of my plan is working. The dragon seizes my offering in its jaws and drags it away to devour in privacy.

I’m off to the butcher shop the next day. And the next.

I manage to nab a rabbit while the dragon is distracted on the second day, so I’m counting that as a success, even if I’m finding my wallet considerably lighter as a result of the frequent trips to the butcher.

It’s on the third day that things change.

The dragon doesn’t even bother to give me its usual glare this time, advancing confidently to the cut of meat I’ve left in the usual spot. As it sniffs the food I move a bit closer, daring to do what I’ve been longing to for the past few days. I sidle up to it, as stealthily as possible, each movement slow and deliberate so as not to spook it.

I’m a handbreadth away when it turns its eyes to me. But it’s not the baleful stare I’m expecting. It cocks its head to the side as it regards me, looking almost curious. I hold very still.

The dragon takes a step towards me. I’m ready for this. I’ve got a bite of meat wrapped in a bit of butcher’s paper in my hand, kept aside for just this moment.

I lift my hand ever so slowly, letting the dragon watch my every move. It sniffs the air, no doubt catching the scent. I gingerly unwrap the paper, until the morsel is sitting exposed on the palm of my hand.

The dragon eyes the piece in my hand and then looks to the slab of meat I’ve left on the forest floor. It looks back and forth. I’m counting on it being greedy enough to want them both.

It seems I’ve got it right. The dragon edges closer to me and leans over my palm to sniff the bite. I’m holding my breath, every muscle tense. There’s a chance it could bite me but I’m willing to risk it.

I don’t think it will. I think we’re past that now somehow.

The dragon darts forward, snatching the piece of meat from my hand and downing it in one gulp. I almost laugh but I don’t want to scare it off, not now, not when it’s so near.

I swear it almost smirks as it swallows the food down and that’s when I dare to do it. I reach forward and gently run my finger along the back of its neck.

I expect it to retreat, to snap at me, to claw my hand away.

Instead it stretches out its neck and closes its eyes. I keep petting it, running my fingers down to where the wings attach. It shifts nearer, curling up next to my leg. I can feel the heat of it through my jeans. I keep up the repetitive motion and it's not long before I feel a thrumming sensation where it rests against my thigh and hear what almost sounds like a low hum.

I think it’s coming from the dragon. I think it’s purring or whatever it is that dragon’s do when they’re particularly content.

I run my hand from its neck all the way down to the tail, between the wings that are now resting limp and folded on the dragon’s back. I lean down just a bit and whisper to it “I think I’m going to call you Smaug.”

Smaug and I are hunting together by the end of the week. When I trip on a root and lose my grip on a squirrel a few days later, Smaug pounces on it before it gets away and, to my surprise, drags it over to me to drop it at my feet. When I stare down in shock he nudges it closer to me and then flicks my leg with his tail.

I reach for it, tentatively, in case I’m reading this all wrong, but once the squirrel is in my grasp I hear the humming again and Smaug butts his head against my leg before scampering off to track down his own meal.

I’m grateful and near tears as I sink my fangs into the squirrel and drink deep.

I don’t feel quite so alone.

Five years later

Baz

“Come along now, Snow. I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

Simon gives me a dubious look as I pull him into the trees behind the lodge. “Someone lives out here?”

“Yes, someone I’ve been friends with for quite awhile.” I smirk and raise an eyebrow. “I may have known you for more years but Smaug and I have definitely been friends for longer.”

“Smaug?”

I can’t help but laugh at Simon’s expression when we finally track down my dragon.

He looks utterly gobsmacked.

I have to admit Smaug is a fair bit larger than he was when we first met. Roughly the size of a Shetland pony and he’s nowhere near full-grown.

“There’s nothing to be alarmed at, Snow.”

“Not be alarmed? Are you fucking kidding me, Baz? This is a bloody dragon, you barmy git. And you’re flammable!”

“Smaug’s not about to torch me.”

“I see no reason to think he’s not. He’s a dragon, Baz, for Merlin’s sake. Are you daft?”

Smaug and Simon sizing each other up is enough to render me helpless with laughter. The way they both flare their wings is particularly endearing.

It’s alright. I’m sure they’ll get along.

Someday.

I hope.

Simon

Baz bloody Pitch has a pet dragon. Of all the magical creatures he chooses to befriend an animated flamethrower.

“You’re flammable!”

He’s laughing, the insufferable prat. “It’s fine, Snow. He’d never hurt me.”

“He might not intend to. One dragon sneeze gone wrong and you’re done for.”

“Shut up and come say hello.” Baz drags me over to the dragon.

I won’t deny he’s beautiful. The dragon, I mean (well, Baz too, but I always think he’s beautiful).

This dragon reminds me of the one from Watford. From the day Baz cast “Ladybird.”

The day it all started for us.

I can’t let my mind wander like this. Baz is walking up to a great bloody dragon (Okay, fine, a small bloody dragon) and he’s flammable.

Baz is so close to the dragon now and my heart is about to beat its way out of my chest. I’ve broken into a sweat. I’m absolutely terrified of what this thing can do to Baz. I wonder if I can shove him out of the way fast enough when the dragon starts to breathe fire. Shield him with my wings.

I mean, they’re dragon wings, right? They should be a bit fire-proof?

While I’m going mental over the possibilities Baz has actually sidled up to the dragon and is petting it. Literally running his hand back and forth along the spiky part of its neck.

“Hello there, Smaug,” Baz croons to it. His voice has gone all low and velvety. “This is my friend, Simon.”

The dragon gives me look, sizing me up, I swear to Merlin. It’s not my first time facing one of these, I know that look. I’d give anything to have my sword right now, Baz’s assurances this thing is safe be damned.

Baz runs his hand to just above the wing joints and keeps petting the blasted menace.

And the fucking thing nuzzles its head into Baz’s chest and closes its eyes, looking for all the world like an overgrown cat. It’s literally purring. There’s this weird humming sound coming from it, I swear.

“Simon, stop looking at Smaug like you want to take his head off and get over here. I told you, he’s safe.” As if on cue the dragon wraps its tail around Baz’s lower legs and it’s just the picture of lethally powered contentment.

“I can’t believe you named it Smaug,” I say, as I take a tentative step closer. I’d feel a sight better if I had a fire extinguisher with me.

“You know how much I love Tolkien.”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t realise you’d be daft enough to have a pet dragon.”

Baz actually rolls his eyes at me. “Smaug isn’t a pet. I told you, he’s a friend.” Baz looks down at the dragon resting against his chest and moves his hand to place it on the damn thing’s head, far too close to its jaws in my opinion. “He gave me my first lessons in hunting and stalking.” Baz rubs the creature’s spiky crest. “He was with me when it all started.” There’s a fond look on his face as he gazes at the dragon but there’s something unspeakably melancholy there too.

I close the distance until I’m standing just in front of Baz. The dragon opens its eyes and stares at me, its golden gaze holding mine, heavy and deliberate. Then it stretches its neck out and dips its head a little.

“Go on,” Baz whispers.

I reach my hand out slowly and gently brush my fingers low on its forehead. Baz nods at me so I run my fingers up and down the scales there. They’re smoother than I expect as my hand slides up and rougher as my hand comes back down. The dragon—Smaug—closes its eyes and that’s when I feel a thrumming sensation. I jerk my hand back but Baz shakes his head and motions me to keep going, so I do.

And then the blasted thing is purring and Baz is smirking at me.

“He likes it when you rub above his wing joints too,” Baz suggests and then leans in close, his breath against my ear. “Just like you do.” And he laughs, the insufferable bastard.

He’s not wrong and I’m bloody well red in the face now.

“So this is why you think you’re such an expert on dragons, is it? Your dragon friend here?”

Baz’s arm slips around my waist and I feel him press a kiss into my hair. “Hmm. More my dragon boyfriend.” And then he laughs and Smaug looks up at him with such a puzzled expression that I can’t help but laugh too.

#carry on #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on countdown #coc 2019 #magical creatures #carry on prequel #parental figures #angst #my writing #my fics #mentions of blood and feeding #mentions of the family dog from wayward son

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader chap. 3; Second meeting

*Author’s note*

Okay guys so get read to binge read this series for a bit because since yesterday after finishing the last part of this chapter as well as writing up all of the next chapter, I’ve got 4 full chapters ready for you all to read and be amazed with. So I hope you all enjoy this little chapter and until the next update in just a short little while.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@ixchel-9275

@georgesgentlyweepingguitar

@queendeakyy

@simonedk

@geek-and-proud

@kairosfreddie

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In the throne room of the palace, stood the three daughter of Sultan Hassim of Punjab: the eldest Aesha, the middle child Kaia, and the youngest Priyanka along with their escorts and ensembles. Across the throne room just near the steps where the steps stood were the three English kings, King Harold of the kingdom Middlesex, King Michael of Norfolk, and King Arthur of Leicester.

“Welcome Princess Aesha, Kaia and Priyanka. We trust you three had a safe journey.” King Harold stated them as the doors slowly began to open.

When the doors were fully opened there in their royal garb stood Prince Roger and Prince John and in the middle stood Prince Brian. John nervously and unconsciously touched his right ring finger but remembered his ring was gone so he retreated his hand back. The three princesses stood in awe at seeing the three English princes.

“By Allah.” Whispered Priyanka. The three princes slowly walked down the steps with grace and poise and soon coming behind them was a servant around their age with short black hair and a mustache across his lips, in his arms he carried a badger and coming from the other side were the two lions, one female and a male lion with his dark mane shining proudly.

“Daughters of Hassim, allow us to introduce our sons, my only son Prince Brian.” King Harold started off.

“My eldest and only son Prince Roger.” Continued King Michael.

“And my eldest son, Prince John.” Finished King Arthur. The princesses stood in awe before the middle princess Kaia spoke.

“Why did no one tell us we would be meeting gods?”

“No one mentioned we would either.” Roger flirted back, but unlike how he would normally flirt with a woman, there was a bit of coldness to it.

“Aww thank you.” Kaia gushed obviously oblivious to Roger’s true meaning.

“They say back home in Punjab that we would be worthy of Lakshmi herself.” Bragged Priyanka as she made a high-class laugh and soon the escorts all laughed together in the same unison tone. “Men would line up the entire castle just to get a look at us.” The parrot on top of the advisor holding the snake staff laughed as John finally spoke.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Funny. We share the same title but are clearly not cut from the same cloth when it comes to humility and self-awareness.” At that statement Priyanka shuffled nervously. King Arthur cleared his throat and whispered.

“John, manners.” It was then Aesha noticed the badger the servant was holding and she said.

“Just what is that rat that servant boy is holding?”

“Badger. He’s a badger, actually. Not even relatively close to the rodent family.” Brian piped in defending his pet badger.

“It looks disgusting, take it out of my sight. I hate things that crawl!” Brian wanted to interject but his father told the servant to walk away with Brian’s badger.

“Oh forget about the rodent thing Aesha, check out those cats. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Stated Priyanka. The male lion and lioness both glared at the princesses and were growling lowly.

“Indeed, especially the one with the luscious hair. She’s got to be the most beautifuliest cat I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Answered Kaia.

“He. Male lions have the mane, females don’t.” Roger answered as he stroked through his lion’s mane.

“They like you.” The parrot stated.

“What’s not to like? Back home cats adore us. Here kitty, kitty, kitties, hi kitty, kitties.” Priyanka walked up holding her hand out waving it towards the female lioness who just kept glaring and growling lowly, slowly baring her large canine fangs. As Priyanka continued to coo at the lioness, she was then met with a roar and a swipe of cat claws.

Her screams echoed through the walls as the escorts all just laughed.

Later that night in the study room of the English kings, they all sat around a desk with maps, books, a globe and scrolls all surrounding them. Standing before them was their grand vizier.

“My kings, our enemies grow stronger every day yet you allow your sons to dismiss the daughters of Hassim and a possible military alliance.”

“What enemies Paul?” asked king Arthur.

“Liverpool continues to amass.”

“Liverpool is our ally.”

“Was our ally.” Paul hissed out in emphasis.

“You would drag us into war with our oldest alley.”

“And you would allow our kingdom to sink into ruin for mere sentiment!”

“Paul!” roared Michael. Paul ceased and turned towards the second king. “Remember your place.” Continued king Michael.

“I apologize. Forgive me king Michael, I went to far.” Paul said as he slowly walked towards the door. But he stopped and slowly turned around and said “But,” it was then the eyes on his snake staff began to glow red.

It was then the three kings looked at Paul like they were under a trance.

“If you would only reconsider, I think you three would see that invading Liverpool, is the right thing to do.”

“Invading…Liverpool is…..” Arthur droned out in a monotoned voice.

“Invade Liverpool?” Paul was forced to release the spell he had over the three kings as John soon came into the room with a lioness behind him. His father Arthur turned towards his son as John continued, “Why would we invade mother’s homeland?”

“We would never invade Liverpool.” His father spoke.

“But an ally in Punjab would improve our situation.” Suggested Paul.

“Yes, if you and our sons would reconsider giving the princesses a chance.” Suggested king Harold.

“To rule? Uncle Harold I would rather have Nala as my Queen.”

“My son, we’re not getting any younger and…..we are running out of kingdoms. India is our only hope of a stronger worldly alliance.”

“Why must we marry a royal blood of a foreign country in order to help them? Now I have been preparing for this my whole life, I have read—”

“Books? But you cannot read experience Prince John. Inexperience is dangerous. People left unchecked will revolt, walls and borders unguarded will be attacked.” Paul spoke to him like he was scolding a child.

“Paul is right. One day,” his father came up to him and cupped the side of his face. “You will understand my son.” John looked up at his father breathing sharply but silently. “You may leave now.” John huffed before storming out of the studies with his lioness Nala following behind him.

John stopped in the middle of the hallway trying to calm himself down of his anger but also his sadness that his father still wouldn’t take him seriously.

Nala, his lioness came up and sat in front of him softly huffing and staring up at him solemnly, but when Paul Prenter came around the corner, her ears narrowed back and she growled defensively.

“Life would be kinder to you, Prince John. You have no wisdom of the world like Brian, nor the ambition of Roger. I think it would be better for you to be seen and not heard.” Paul spoke as he got closer to the young prince. As Prenter stared him down, he heard the threatening growl and was staring into the golden eyes of Nala.

He glared down at the big cat like he was looking at an abomination before calmly retreating back down the hallway.

John was now back in his, along with Brian’s and Roger’s, bedroom. He began thinking back to what Paul said. For years out of the three young Princes, John Deacon has always been the more quieter of the sons, he always relied more on his emotions rather than his actions.

Sure he would speak his mind when the time was necessary but he’d rather not get involved with things that were mostly stupid to him. After he lost his mother just three years ago he was so depressed and would barely speak, so with each princess he’s met he’s either acted cold and distant, or retorted back with his words like he did earlier this afternoon. As he walked around the room, he softly sung to himself.

*John*

Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under Broken again, left with nothing to say My voice drowned out in the thunder

But I can't cry And I can't start to crumble Whenever they try To shut me or cut me down

I can't stay silent Though they wanna keep me quiet And I tremble when they try it All I know is I won't go speechless

He sat down on the couch on the balcony before wiped away his hidden tears and trying to compose himself before Brian, Roger or their servant came through those doors.

*3rd Person POV*

Outside the palace, a merchant with a cart full of fresh supplies for the palace came pulling up to the gates of the palace and one of the guards told the gate keeper to open the gates. Standing amongst the crowd of people, who were watching a fire eater perform his nightly routine, (Y/n) stood there and whispered.

“Okay Abu, you know what to do.” Abu hopped off my shoulder and pestered one of the guards. As he was distracted, I walked up to one of the men and took his shawl off his back and wrapped it over my head and walked alongside the cart, pretending to be one of the assistance.

Unbeknownst to (y/n), something was watching her. The red parrot that always stood on Paul’s shoulder looked down from the perch he was on and said.

“Dirty monkey.” He then took off flying squawking out, “Street thief, street thief.” He flew high and over the palace till he arrived in another large study area that belong to his master, Paul who was now removing standing before a globe with a harsh look in his eyes.

“‘Remember your place, Paul’.”

“Remember your place.” The parrot mocked back.

“If I hear that one more time!”

“Sorry, master!”

“Another petty insult from those three small-minded English buffoons. They see a kingdom, where I see an empire.” Paul said as he walked around the globe towards a book that stood on a podium.

“Such vision.” His parrot spoke.

“Once that lamp sits in my hand…then I shall sit on the throne of England.”

“Thief in the palace.” His parrot spoke as it sat on the railing of the balcony.

“Thief. Thief in the palace?” asked Paul.

“That’s what I said. Thief!”

“What have you seen Iago?” Paul asked his parrot as he walked up towards him.

“Diamond in the rough.” As Paul now stood by his parrot Iago’s side he saw for himself just what the bird was talking about. Jumping and scaling across the top of some of the palace buildings was (Y/n).

After walking across the vineyard walls, (y/n) silently hopped down and hid behind one of the steel vineyard walls just as two guards turned around, wondering if they heard anything.

She then walked into the palace to see some servants cleaning up the room, while the captain of the guard monitored them. Telling them to either make bigger circles, or get a spot that they missed. (Y/n) noticed an abandoned red sari so she grabbed it and wrapped it around herself.

Paul and Iago came around towards the very part of the palace where they saw (y/n) go into to and there was a female servant with her head bowed down, her face hidden as she held a tray of tea while two guards passed by her.

When the servant revealed her face, it was (y/n). She softly smiled before walking off towards the Princes chambers.

“Who’s a clever girl?” Iago stated as Paul smirked.

“Indeed. She could be just who we are looking for.” Iago squawked as he flew off and Paul slipped away from the room.

Meanwhile in the Princes’ chambers John was standing along the balcony with the servant boy who came along with them to greet the Princesses. Prince Brian was by his maps with his badger standing right beside him, sniffing the paper, while Roger sat along his bed with his pet lion by his side.

“But Jim, there has to be something we can do.” John said as their servant Jim prepped him his nightly attire.

“Three princesses want to marry you and your two friends, when will life get any easier?”

“It’s not that we don’t want to marry, it’s just that we…..” Roger spoke as he dried his wet hair after just having his bath.

“John wants to be king, you wish to explore the world, and Brian you wish to become an astronomer.”

“You remember what our mums used to say, we would only be as happy as our least happiest subject. If they saw what Roger and I did today, they would be heartbroken.”

“They would also want us to be safe Deacy. And clean. I’m taking the next bath. You better not have used all the hot water this time Roger.” Brian spoke up as he stood up and headed towards the bathroom.

“No promises.” Roger said.

“With Paul’s guards on every corner, soon he’d have them invading our neighbors, risking lives and for what?” John continued as he looked out towards the balcony.

“Well one good thing will come from this forceful commitment of marriage. When I’m king, I’ll finally have the power to get rid of that slimy leech. What do you think John beheaded or gutting him? Or maybe a hanging?”

“Roger Taylor sometimes you worry me lad.” Jim stated solemnly.

“Oh come off it Jim, you’re the only Irish man I would spare from punishment. But Paul deserves everything I’ve got planned coming to him. I still don’t get why our father’s made him the grand vizier. If anything I would’ve made him the royal poop cleaner to Simba here.” He spoke as he stroked his lion’s mane who huffed and lowly growled. “What do you say Simba? You could give that overdressed, self-absorbed Paul Prenter a thing or two to scream about wouldn’t you?” Roger cooed as he cupped his lion’s face before affectionately headbutting him.

Simba rubbed up against Roger’s head before raising his head up and Roger proceeded to scratch under his chin down to his mid chest.

“To a degree I agree with Roger. We were born to do than marry some useless princess. It seems like all these princesses we are given don’t know how to speak up and just do whatever we say, or are too arrogant and spoiled.” John said.

“If you three had to choose a triplet of princesses, you lot could do worse than these three. I mean they do seem beautiful and yes they are a little spoiled but you’re just getting married. It’s not like you’ll have to talk to them.” Jim said.

“I wouldn’t go there Jim. Besides, he’d rather take that girl from the market place.” Roger teased as Jim softly chuckled before heading towards the bathroom to prepare Brian for his bath. John scoffed a chuckle. “Oh don’t play that John, you both we’re practically gaga for each other this afternoon. Hell she didn’t even notice me at all when we first met.”

“Yes Roger you’re very attractive, so much so that everyone confused you for a woman frequently while we were there.” John mocked back.

“Are you serious?!” cried out Brian from the bathroom. Roger glared at John and hissed.

“You bitch.” John grinned smugly when a soft knock was heard at the door. He walked down the two steps of the balcony and went up to the door and opened it to see someone with their back turned.

“Can I help you?” but when the person turned around, John was surprised to see the girl from the marketplace.

*My POV*

When the doors opened to reveal Jim, I held the tray of tea out and said.

“Tea?”

“You? You! What are you doing here!? Get in here now!” he pulled me inside the room and quickly shut the door.

“I came to return your ring.”

“My ring? Where is it?”

“On your finger.” I looked around in awe before I caught the sight of Ben, shirtless but wearing nightly pants stroking a big cat of sorts. I think I was a lion maybe? Never really seen those here but I have read stories about them. “Oh Ben hello.”

“Well, well look whose come back? Enjoying the view?”

“I’ll admit it’s not bad. I love what the princes have done with the place.”

“How did you get past the guards?” asked Jim.

“That was challenging, but I have my ways.” I said as I turned back towards him. “Hey Jim, while the princes are out, would you—like to go for a stroll? Have a little chat?” I now stood in front of him and he softly shook his head as he said.

“You’re unbelievable. You cannot just break into a palace and walk around like you own the place.”

“If you don’t have anything, you have to act like you own everything.”

“She’s got you there mate.” Ben said as he continued to stroke the lion.

“So what do you say? I did find your ring.”

“You did not find my ring, you stole it.”

“Correction the monkey stole it.”

“He’s your monkey.” He retorted.

“He’s still a monkey.” I argued back. He softly grinned at me.

“Who ordered the tea?” it was then we all turned to see a tall lean man who had massive curly hair and hazel eyes. He was in a bathrobe and standing by his side was another lion but without the hair, which made me think that this one was a female lion. I looked at the man stunned but before I could say anything Jim spoke up.

“I did. For you, Prince John Deacon.” Oh my god this was Prince John.

“Your majesty.” I did my best to bow.

“Why are you being weird?” I heard Prince John say. I turned to look towards Jim who settled himself from doing something and just smiled at me. I turned back towards the youngest English Prince and that’s when he face shined with realization.

“Oh I’m Prince John. Yes, mm-hmm. And it truly is good to be me. The young prince of Leicester. The accent I have is far unique and strange to anyone else of my little kingdom. But of course I always look up to Prince Brian because he is far superior to me with his wisdom for words and wisdom of numbers. Yes I do so admire that brother of mine.” He praised in an accent that almost clearly didn’t seem to fit him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my precious lioness needs to be cleaned.” He then turned and walked away.

Okay that was—weird. I turned towards Jim and he looked at me and said.

“Poor thing doesn’t get out much.” I hummed and turned my back as I set the tea set down on a nearby table.

“Clearly.” But when I turned back around I was suddenly greeted by the lioness staring me down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the bath?” she walked up towards me and sniffed my hand before softly whining out.

“Oi servant boys! This cat aren’t going to clean themselves you know!” Prince John proclaimed from the back room.

“But don’t cat’s usually clean themselves?” I asked.

“You have to leave now.” Jim urged me on as he dragged me towards the doors.

“Okay. But I’m coming back tomorrow night.”

“What? No you can’t….”

“Meet me in the courtyard beside the fountain when the moon hits above the minaret.” I then swiftly stole another ring from John’s finger, this time a silver medallion pin like ring that rested on his right ring finger. “To return this ring next.” Jim looked at me astonished.

I then reached up and gently but hesitantly tucked back a strand of his hair that fell to his eyes. I fiddled the ring between my fingers at him giving him my promise, before finally slipping out of the room.

As I ditched the servant sari, Abu came up towards me and got up on my shoulder and we walked off.

*John’s POV*

“What a woman. Now if she had done that to me, I would’ve had her right then and there.” Roger whistled.

“Keep your urges to yourself.” I hissed. I looked down at my right hand to see my ring finger was now naked but as I touched it, I swore I could still feel a hint of her fingers touching it as she went to grab my ring.

*My POV*

“Can you believe it Abu? The most heavily guarded place in all of Agrabah…” I said as Abu hung from my shoulder to my arm and we both admired the ring as well as me twirling around like it was nothing. But as I faced forward again, the captain of the guards stood before me.

“Evening.” He said as Abu came to hide behind my back.

“Evening.” My voice squeaked before I cleared my throat and I said again, “Evening.” There was silence before I said, “You’ve got guards behind me, don’t you?” suddenly my vision went black as something came over my head and I was dragged out of the palace.

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sapphires-and-gold-fics · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019 Day 2: “Just follow me, I know the area.”

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones

Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth

Read on AO3

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Jaime was lost.

When Tyrion has recommended he get away, he’d spun the globe in his library and had Jaime tell him when to stop. Tyrion’s finger had landed not far from home at all, but Jaime had agreed to it all the same - anything to get him out of this godforsaken city, and away from his cousin’s wedding.

Tarth was a small island east of the Stormlands. Jaime took a very short flight from KLI to SEN, then a cab to the wharf, and from there he chartered a boat to Evenfall, the largest town on the island. There were ferries that ran twice daily to and from the island, but Jaime felt better spending the money for the private boat and avoiding the crowds of families traveling for the summer.

At one time, he thought he might become one of them. Cersei had convinced him that they belonged together, and that they too would one day go abroad in the summer, maybe with their 2.5 kid family, maybe with a dog… they would be the only people in the world that mattered, and the world would be their oyster. It didn’t matter if business was booming or if they had to scrimp and save just to take a day trip, it would be them taking on the world together.

But Cersei had never believed in that. Cersei wanted the power, the privilege, of the family business. So when Jaime stepped away and told his father he’d having nothing more to do with it, Cersei wanted nothing more to do with him. Her affections very quickly transferred to one of the firm’s managing partners, and Jaime was left alone - he’d be taking on the world alone.

From the docks it was a very short walk to the Evenfall Suites - the largest hotel on the island, not that it meant much. Tourism to the island was usually found in day trippers who took the ferry over and explored the markets, and then went back to the mainland where chain resorts lined the popular Stormland Coast. The Evenfall Suites was at the northern tip of the island and boasted just 16 rooms, but each had a view of the Narrow Sea. The inn backed up against Evenfall Wood, a quiet mountainous forest full of evergreens that made the island feel massive.

It was in those woods that Jaime was now lost.

He wasn’t the first person to underestimate the scope of Evenfall Wood. People - men more often than women - had been getting lost in the forests of Tarth since the days of magic and knights and dragons. The tall grey-bearded proprietor of the inn had offered him books and pamphlets and even tried to get him a tour guide when he’d checked in - the pages of the books seemed worn and the ink had begun to fade, but in a place like Tarth the facts rarely changed. Yet Jaime wasn’t one for reading or guidebooks, and he wasn’t in the mood for company. When he made the trip he’d thought only of where he was headed from. So he wandered into the woods too late in the day, and heading in the opposite direction of all civilization.

A steep edifice rose ahead, the sound of running water seemingly not far, but maybe too high for Jaime to reach. If only he could get to the ledge above, perhaps he could get his bearings and spot the sea. He hitched up his trousers and pulled himself up the rise slowly, using his hands to push against the larger stones, kicking up a cloud of dirt. Finally he could smell the water and could hear it rushing quickly toward a precipice.

He’d just caught sight of the waterfall and a hint of a clearing through the trees when he felt a sharp burn across his palm - one of the stones at the top of the hill was craggy and had cut him there. Losing grip with his right hand, his arms windmilled and he toppled backward, rolling back down the hill, striking stones and twigs, and beetles in his path. By the time he landed at the foot of the hill his arm was bloody and his body was dusted in fine soil and rock dust.

Afraid of his state, he tested his limbs before opening his eyes and found that all of them seemed to function as expected. Then he twisted his head from side to side and found that his neck was sound. Clutching his pained right hand to his chest, he used his left to prod at his skull and face - all seemingly sound there too. Finally he opened his eyes.

He’d found the sea.

A woman - he guessed it was a woman - was peering down at him with eyes bluer than he could have ever imagined. Cersei’s eyes were hard like jade - she’d insisted that they were the same as his but he’d always seen his own as moss and juniper. These eyes were softer still - like cornflower and starlight. Like shards of the blue and white porcelain his mother had collected before her marriage. Like tide pools during a full moon.

He was bewitched by these eyes which had somehow found their way in the company of the woman’s other features. She was ordinary and yet exquisite - short tawny hair that seemed stiff as if washed in salt water, but curled behind her ears, a half-moon scar stretching across her left cheekbone, thick lips the corners of which fell just outside the lines of what might be considered pretty symmetry, broad shoulders that highlighted the gracefulness of her long neck, and freckles - freckles everywhere - as if the gods had traced the carbon of the night sky through to her skin. She wasn’t beautiful, she was startling. She was astonishing.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice deep and soothing.

“Are you a... fairy?”

She snorted, his question catching her off guard. “No, there are no fairies on Tarth.”

Tarth. Tarth. The insignificant name sounded much more wonderful in her mouth than in Tyrion’s.

“An elf?”

She scoffed, “You’ll find I’m much too tall for that. Did you hit your head?”

He sat up slowly, causing her to sit back on her heels. He hissed when his bloodied hand touched the gravel.

“Here, let me.” She took his hand in hers - soft above and callused below - and quietly tended to it. She opened a canteen and poured her water across the wound, offering him what was left to drink after. Then she carefully cleaned around the area with a wipe she pulled from a pack in her pocket, and bound it with a roll of gauze she kept in her bag. It should have stung while she wiped it down and throbbed when she wrapped it up. It should have been painful, but Jaime was so mesmerized by her that he barely felt a thing. He found himself checking the backs of her shoulders when she turned to pack her supplies away.

“So you’re not a fairy...” he looked appraisingly down at her muscular thighs and calves, “you’re certainly not an elf... and I checked for wings so I guess you’re not some kind of angel fallen from the heavens...”

She smirked, zipping up her bag, “No, not an angel. Besides you’re the one who did the falling.”

“Yeah I might have to do it again sometime,” he muttered mostly to himself.

She started to blush. It seemed to originate behind her ears and then spread in glorious pockets of pink and coral across her cheeks and neck, and past the collar of her t-shirt. He ached to see just how far it might continue. Her mouth tweaked to one side and she pushed herself to her feet, holding out her hand for his left to help him up.

Dirt fell from him in sheets as he stood, filling the air. He held onto her hand and stepped closer to her, shaking her hand, marveling at her height which just exceeded his. “I’m Jaime. Lannister.”

She smiled, her eyes a deeper blue now, set against the pink in her cheeks, and shook his hand back. “I know. You’re staying at Evenfall Suites.”

She dropped his hand and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“I...how did you know?”

She bent over, dusting off her knees, “Well...not many places for tourists to stay on this part of the island—“

“—How do you know I’m a tourist?” he asked, flashing his teeth.

She rolled her incredible eyes. “For one, the locals don’t really get lost. And they certainly don’t try to climb the falls without gear. For another - you’re staying at my hotel.”

Were they actually staying at the same hotel, Jaime thought, he would be sure to stick closer to the property for the rest of the trip. “I took you for a local.”

She let out a laugh that would have caused birds and all sorts of creatures alike to go scampering away in any other forest, but which here felt perfectly suited, natural. “No, Jaime... it’s my hotel. My dad checked you in - big guy, beard? That's how I know your name.”

“Oh…” so not only did the magical nature woman rescue him, he thought, but she was operating an honest business that clearly didn’t sap the livelihoods out of the poorest of the poor, putting her heads above Cersei - literally and figuratively. Jaime. Gods, but his name sounded amazing when she said it. “So do you always come after idiot tourists who get lost in the woods, or am I a special case?”

She glanced at the sky and eyed her wristwatch, “Men like you usually at least pick up one of the guide books.”

He grinned up at her, “There are no men like me, only me.”

“Well,” she said, tilting her head fondly, “next time we’ll be sure to get a book printed with your name on it then.”

He laughed openly, feeling somehow unburdened. Free. His heart leapt a little at her words. Next time . “What’s your name?”

“Brienne. Tarth. Like the island,” she said, gesturing to the woods around them. "I'm descended from the original founders. My family used to own this land."

Tarth. Tarth . There it was again, an entire world built with her lips. “Huh. So Brienne be honest, how lost did I get? Do we have to camp here, or will my bruised body and ego get a bed tonight?”

He watched her blush again. How far does it go?? “Mostly you walked in circles… we’re no more than fifteen minutes from the main building. But the sun’s setting so it’s going to get dark quickly. We should take it slow just to keep from tripping on the way there.”

“Well then,” Jaime stepped closer to her again, and looped his good hand into the crook of her arm, “I’d better stick with you. I don’t mind taking it slow.”

She smiled, the starlight in her eyes igniting faintly, and tightened her arm around his hand.

“Just follow me, I know the area.”

#fictober #braime #jaime x brienne #brienne x jaime #ficlet #put me back together #ao3 #ao3 link #mine #fictober 2019 #got au #modern au #game of thrones au #braime au #modern braime au #tarth

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