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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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I'm Not Into Sometimes, Chapter 2 (Rosnali) - SnowBun

A/N: Very proud of this chapter <3 finally feel myself getting back to the writing style I enjoy the most. I hope you like reading this is as much as I like writing it. much love everyone xx

Summary: When Denali goes viral for posting a dance video, she doesn’t expect it to lead her to becoming a choreographer for Rosé, an up and coming singer destined for fame. Denali thinks that this might be her first (and only) shot at achieving her dream. If only her dream wasn’t wrapped up in a flurry of pink hair, charm and a supposedly professional relationship.

—

Release comes in the sound of blades scraping against ice. It is the feeling of her core tightening as she pushes off the ground and becomes the world turning on its axis. She is this moment of weightlessness and control.

Then her head begins to fog with visions of spinning rose-colored tops across a dark wooden floor, so endlessly mesmerizing. Her mind fills with questions of intrigue and challenge, the first time she’s ever seen duality so up close. Oh, to be so breathlessly enamored by beauty and talent.

It’s the loss of focus that weighs her down, causing her to land shakily on her right foot. She extends her left leg for balance and slides not-so-gracefully on the ice. She hears Olivia cheer in the sidelines, all bright white smile and wonder. It brings her back to the rink and away from the studio.

She skates over, pressing her forehead to the fence. “It’s not so bad.” She thinks. The rest of the world is slowly but surely getting hooked on Rosé, and she lives up to every expectation and more. She thinks it’s perfectly normal to feel a little charmed by her.

Even if she was a bitch at first.

“What’s wrong?”

Then again, she can’t quite answer Olivia’s question. She isn’t a fan from half way across the world. She’s the damn choreographer. She’s in New York, seeing her old friends and grasping onto her dream.

Said dream just had to come in the form of pink hair and clear brown eyes.

She shakes her head and smiles. “Nothing’s wrong, Liv.”

—

At first, she thinks she’s just so tired that she’s seeing things. When she blinks, she realizes that her eyes aren’t lying and that Rosé really is right there, sitting on the dance studio floor at 6:30 in the morning. She’s staring at intently at her phone, with an expression that can only be described as upset fury. She becomes too absorbed in typing to even notice Denali come in.

“Hey.”

She looks up and her face softens into a small smile. There it goes again, that weird feeling of nakedness that comes with being looked at by those eyes. The combination of this and the lack of sleep is disconcerting, but she manages to smile back anyway.

“Hey.” Rosé procures a coffee cup from behind her and reaches up to pass it. “I got you coffee.”

It takes her a minute to process, way too taken aback by the gesture. She’s always prided herself on being difficult to phase, but when a woman who is basically her employer that she barely knows hands her coffee, it’s hard not to act surprised.

Nonetheless, she accepts it gratefully, muttering a ‘thanks’ as she sits down on the floor beside her.

For a while, she stills as Rosé continues to type with such force that Denali’s scared that she might end up cracking the screen somehow. She wonders in silence, but she’d be lying if she says she’s not tempted to cross the arbitrary line and ask if something is wrong.

“Sorry.” Rosé’s voice suddenly rings clear, but the world around them still feels quiet, tranquil almost. “Just a lot of stuff that needs to get done before the video shoot.”

“Mmm,” Denali says, as she sips her coffee. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Even if the phone has been tucked into the pocket of her bag, Rosé opts for stretching out her legs in front of her and yawning instead of getting up. She turns her head to look at the choreographer whose gaze is directed at the cup in her hand.

“So,” She draws out the word lazily, cocking her head to the side. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What do you think of Phenomenon?”

It’s a difficult question to answer. If she says something bad, she’s kicked off this project. If she says something good, she’s just kissing ass. She knows that the only right answer to this question is her own opinion, but when her mother told her that honesty is the best policy, she’s not sure this is the situation that she had in mind.

“Honestly?” Rosé nods. “I think it’s great. The lyrics are good, the production is amazing, your vocals are fantastic. Plus it’s your own brand of witty and self-assured. Not sure what’s not to like there.”

She isn’t sure if this was the answer Rosé expected from her. All she hears is a sigh and they sink once again into that comfortable silence while Denali finishes her coffee. She doesn’t really know much, or anything really, about the woman beside her, but in the stillness of the morning, she feels comfortable.

“Right,” Rosé’s voice is soft and she hates herself for the ache that starts to bloom in her chest. “What’s not to like?”

She tries to ignore it, that stupid idea that this true vulnerability and not just small talk between colleagues; but she sees those eyes staring into the empty space, watches the beams of sunlight give her a blush halo. The ache spreads through her body and she bites her tongue to stop from begging to know what she could possibly not like.

Denali stands up and throws away her cup in a bin in the corner of the room. “Anyway,” She reaches out a hand to help her up. “We should get to work.”

Rosé smirks up at her and she thinks that the ache is threatening to cause an implosion. “Oh, so she’s all work and no play, huh?” She says, grabbing at her hand.

Then they’re face to face and Denali can feel the tug, that back and forth that comes with the competition that is flirting. She laughs a little, tries her best to play it cool. “I have to work hard if I want to play hard, don’t I?”

She walks away with a pair of eyes on her back and an ache that won’t go away.

—

“Are you going to spill all the tea now or what?”

Her eyebrows raise behind the glass of vodka cranberry that she’s holding. Of course, Mik wants to get straight to the gossip. She’d be surprised with any other conversation starter to their Friday night, almost a week since she’d arrived in New York. The bar Mik chose is a little too crowded for her taste, filled with other women who have been eyeing her. She notices but she ignores it in favor of the woman in front of her.

“What happened to ‘how have you been, Denali?’ or ‘how’s New York, Denali?’”

“Okay whatever,” Mik rolls her eyes. “How are you?”

“Tired.” She answers in a heartbeat.

“And would that have anything to do with a certain singer whose name rhymes with… shit, I can’t think of anything.”

She purses her lips together. If she’s honest, working with Rosé is probably the least tiring thing on her agenda. The ice skating in the early evenings as a bid to tire herself to sleep hasn’t been working. All its led to is sleepless nights staring at the ceiling until she sees the first vestiges of day creep through the windows, signaling another turn on the earth’s axis.

In the studio with Rosé, she can at the very least find some peace. The understanding that they are both good at what they do and the comfort of knowing that each day with her is a chance to know her more drives her to get out of bed and into the studio.

“A part of it, yeah.” It’s the tiniest bit of truth and Mik doesn’t look one bit sated by it. “What else am I supposed to tell you?”

“Oh, come on,” It’s that signature Mik whine that finally gets a laugh out of her. “You have to tell me something, anything!”

“You’re an MUA that works with runway models. You know enough famous people as it is.”

“That doesn’t make me any less curious about them.”

She bites her tongue when she hears those words. It’s not like she’s any different. Every morning with Rosé is an established routine with coffee and curiosity on both ends. The existing respect for each other’s craft makes them both wonder about the person underneath.

So, they start to ask questions. How’s New York? Where’d you get the coffee? How’s your morning? What’s the name of that guy on TV who used to host Fear Factor and is a shithead now?

Like clockwork, the questions morph into flirting. It’s standard, innocent, verging on comfortable even. Rosé is always the first to break into a blush, true to her name. At times, Denali thinks that she may have gone too far, but then she sees those eyes again, all amusement and interest. Each interaction is a chance for the ache to spread somewhere new along with the growing assurance that there’s nothing to dislike.

“I don’t know, okay?” She finally lets out. “We work great together and we get along, but it’s not like, ‘ooo, you’re my new bestie’ or anything like that.”

“Hmm,” Mik lets out a him, popping the straw out of her mouth. “That’s interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?”

“Let’s just say my sources tell me she doesn’t get along with everyone.”

Her eyebrows scrunch together at that. Sure, she understands that Rosé isn’t exactly everyone’s glass of wine, especially with the cold seriousness that she handles her music, but she respects that about her.

What’s not to like?

“Well, I don’t think she’s a bitch, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Or maybe you want to be her bitch…”

“Oh, fuck you!” She throws a tissue at Mik’s face as the model cackles in delight. Her phone suddenly chimes, a message from an unknown number popping up on the screen.

?: hey, I got your number from Tamisha

“Who is it?”

Damn her and her expressive features. She keeps quiet, brain going at breakneck speed to think of all the reasons why she’s texting on a Friday night when she probably has at least a hundred different parties to go to and a thousand different women trying to catch her eye.

Denali: really hope this is rose and not the guy standing outside Tamisha’s office who keeps asking me out

“It’s just Rosé.” She watches Mik’s mouth turn into an O-shape and she throws another tissue. “No, no, not what you’re thinking, sweetie.”

At least she doesn’t think so. Harmless flirting is one thing, but getting her number from her manager? They keep stepping closer and closer to the line and she thinks she sees the chalk start to smudge.

?: sorry to disappoint, it’s just rosé

Denali: too bad. what’s up?

“She’s texting you on a fucking Friday night.” Mik sounds absolutely dumbfounded. “Sounds a lot more than professional to me.”

She knows that Mik is right. They don’t even have practice tomorrow, so she can’t justify it as a possible cancellation. She’s about to come out with some boldfaced lie when her phone vibrates on the table.

Rose: just thought you should have my number. ps: my name is not rose

Olivia arrives and she slams her phone right down on the table.

“I’m buying us a round of shots.

—

She hates this. She loves this. Saturday morning is now the distant tip-tap of heels against the floor, click in the brain, a switch to her soul. Wake up, wake up, wake up. This is not home, it’s not her hotel room. It’s just a cold floor where she has some peace.

Then she hears that voice, every note of the song a gentle wave rushing in to carry her away from her body. Her eyes are glued shut, but it doesn’t matter when she’s already left her body behind on the shore. The voice grows louder, closer, and the waves start to grow. Her body is too far away now and she’s not sure if her eyes will ever open again.

Wake the fuck up.

“Denali?”

A poke to the ribs sends her rushing back into her own body. An involuntary groan escapes her lips and she hears a laugh from above her. She scrunches her eyes shut, terrified that any form of light might cost her the ability to see.

“What the hell?”

Her voice sounds like a croak to her ears and she manages to roll over onto her back. With a moment of preparation, she cracks open an eye. She’s greeted by the sight of Rosé kneeling over her barely functioning body, clearly trying her best not to laugh. Again, she groans and Rosé can no longer help herself.

“Why are you here?”

Honestly, she’s not sure about the answer to that one. There are bits and pieces of memories from last night printed on the back of her eyelids, but it’s all too fuzzy for her to try to piece together immediately. She remembers the sound of Olivia’s laughter mingling with Mik’s voice as they watched her throw back a seventh shot. The memory causes pain to start creeping into her head and she makes a promise to herself to never drink again.

There’s the sound of shuffling and when she looks up, Rosé isn’t kneeling above her anymore. She assumes that she’s sick and tired of her hungover ass, a perfectly valid response in her opinion. Then she hears humming beside her and sighs, glad that validity has no place in this situation. She closes her eyes again, losing herself to the light behind her eyes to ease the throbbing at her temples.

“Isn’t it a Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked you first.”

Her hands fly up to her face. Rosé is laughing again and the pain starts to spread throughout every part of her head. If only it would subside, maybe she’d finally have the energy to actually be embarrassed about waking up on the floor of her workplace.

“Went drinking.”

“Ah, and how’s that going for you?” There’s a smile in her voice. Fuck it, she thinks as she jumps straight over the line of professionalism with a flip of her middle finger. Oh well, it’s not as if this whole situation has pretty much created a void where the line should be.

“Your turn.”

Rosé goes quiet. She focuses on the sound of their breathing. Inhale, exhale. The expansion of her sides with every controlled gulp of air. She hears a plane overhead, letting the escape of air follow it far away from city streets.

“Just wanted to get away for a while.”

She turns her head, sees pale pink rose petals sprawled out on the dark floor. In the gentle light of a Saturday morning, her eyes break her promise to herself, drinking in the sight of weary beauty. She thinks she’s just hungover, but she believes she’s never seen anyone quite so pretty before.

“Well,” She looks back up at the ceiling, stark white staring back at her. “Same here.”

—

By 10:00 PM, she’s burying herself in sheets. She’s never been much of a fan of stillness, but she thinks the last week might be changing her mind.

A few hours earlier, she’d replied to Mik and Olivia’s texts, asking her if she was okay. She cursed and reassured them in the same breath. When they’d asked her where she’d ended up, she had said, “passed out on the floor.”

Half a truth is good enough, right?

If she had told them everything, she’d have to tell them that she laid in the studio for half an hour with Rosé’s humming the only thing cutting through the pounding in her head. She would have to tell them that she’d stumbled as she got up, letting warm hands guide her as she learned to stand. She’d have to tell them of the exchange of tender smiles, so different from the tug of war of flirtation that she’s accustomed to.

Her phone lights up. She expects Mik or Olivia, even Kahmora. No, she only sees that name and she giggles to herself like a damn teenager, a quiet admission that she’s allowed something to change.

Rose: pls tell me you didn’t go drinking again

Denali: I actually like having more than one brain cell, thanks

Rose: great, don’t want to have to pick you up off the floor again

Denali: won’t you ever let me live it down rose?

Rose: only if you start spelling my name right

Denali: the accent’s too much of an effort

Rose: then use my real name

Denali: ???

Rose: call me rosie

A smile graces her lips and she shoots off one last message. She places her phone on the nightstand and buries herself in the blankets, drifting into her first good sleep in a long time.

Denali: alright, night rosie

—

Monday morning suddenly frees up when Rosé says she has to move their session to the evening to make room for interviews. She fills up the rest of her morning by replying to emails about skating gigs for when she eventually returns home. She has lunch with Mik and Olivia and when they inevitably begin to pry, she stays mum on what she can only now describe as her complicated friendship with Rosé. She returns to the hotel and lets herself sleep, turning the feeling of being well-rested into a brand-new addiction.

When she arrives at the studio at 7, there’s no one there. While it isn’t like Rosé to be late, she doesn’t text. She assumes that she’s coming from yet another one of many interviews that she kindly referred to as, “shitheads trying to get way too personal.”

She settles for freestyling to loosen up while she waits. When the music starts, she feels herself break. Every moment is grounded in her own brand of ferocity and well, sex. There’s comfort in her own body, in the knowing that it is a temple of worship to herself. A signal from her brain to move, a single fluid motion, all indulgent offerings to the pleasure only she will ever feel. She throws herself into the fire and the sensation of pleasure starts to build.

The door opens, but she doesn’t, can’t stop. She feels like she’s hovering over the floor, on the brink of climax. The song peaks and she almost gasps, dropping to her knees and letting her back hit the floor. She takes a deep breath, relishes the feeling of being alive.

“Sorry.” She’s apologizing, but she’s not sure for what.

“I…” For once, Rosé is at a loss for words. Her quick wit has been thrown out the window and is probably being dragged around under the wheels of a taxi. She laughs breathily as she gets to her feet.

When their eyes meet, the air turns heavy with unspoken words and desire. She tries to look away, but she can’t. Brown gazes meet and for the first time, she permits herself the thought of what it would be like to kiss her. Maybe, just maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Uhm, okay! Let’s get started?” Rosé bursts out and she thinks that she might have won this round.

If the singer seems more distracted than usual, she doesn’t say anything about it.

—

The water in the shower is still cold when she receives a text that evening.

Rosie: no need to meet me for the rest of the week. We need four dancers for the video, auditions on wed

The water suddenly seems warm and for the first time in her life, she thinks she’s finally learning what it’s like to lose.

—

#rpdr fanfiction #rosé #denali foxx #rosnali #lesbian au #choreographer au #snowbun #s13 #im not into sometimes

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kayparker20 · 4 years ago

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Inner Turmoil - Chapter 6

I'm so sorry about the wait this time around guys. I threw myself for a loop with this plot and I've been struggling a lot to figure out what I want to happen next. I decided to focus on a minor issue while I brainstorm what happens next. It's a bit feelsy but it's not super dramatic. Also kind of realized it was almost too long so the next chapter will have a spicy start before the real plot happens.

Hope you enjoy this somewhat filler chapter!

Chapter 6 - Village Gossip

FFN | AO3

Ino sat at the front counter of her family flower shop, impatiently waiting for the jonin ninja in her store to get a move on. They would always come in, pretend to look around while gossiping, and never buy one thing. She hasn’t liked them since she heard them being hateful towards Kurenai-sensei, probably out of jealousy.

“Can you believe, of all the beautiful shinobi, he dates his former student?” The woman scoffed and brushed her fingertips over the petals of lilies in a bouquet. “I think I would have rather heard he was gay, before that.” Her long, charcoal hair was curled and flowing down her back in waves.

Another rolled her eyes. “Yeah, gay for Might Guy, even.” Fiery redhead, model body. “Of course, Hatake was too perfect to have no flaws, I just didn’t think it would be something so repulsive like fucking children.”

“Do you think she fucked her way into jonin level?” The darker haired woman speculated. She turned around and looked at some roses that had been to her left.

Ino had been idly doodling flowers on a piece of blank receipt paper before hearing the topic they had been discussing. Her hand stopped mid-petal at the last comment before she narrowed her eyes at the piece of paper.

“I mean, maybe. Must have been easy to become jonin when you’re the Hokage’s apprentice, and being taught by a legend.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. I hear she’s quite the bitch at the hospital.”

She felt her mother’s eyes on her as she squeezed the pen, staring daggers meant for the women at the counter. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she needed to stay cordial and polite because they were customers, despite how abrasive and tactless they were.

She flipped her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder before addressing the women with a sarcastic smile. “Excuse me, ladies, is there anything I can help you find?” Her tone dripped with deviance through her smile. Her whole body felt tense with her anger as she forced herself to appear relaxed and helpful.

Two can play this catty game.

The women turned in her direction, both sporting smirks on their expressions. They both stared at her as if she were boring before cocking their hips to the side and giving fake smiles in her direction.

“We’re just admiring, but thank you.” The redhead shot back in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure? I think a bouquet of yellow hyacinths, lavender, and iris would go nicely with your hair.” Ino offered slyly.

She stole a glance at her mother, expecting to see an expression of disapproval, and was surprised to see the faintest smile spreading across her lips.

The darker haired woman narrowed her eyes, clearly catching the message. “You have something to say, girl?”

Ino kept her demeanor as she shook her head. “Oh no, I was just offering. Purple and yellow complement well, you know?”

Before either woman could snapback, the elder brunette cut in politely. “Ladies, it’s time for our lunch, and we must close for the next hour, so please take your pick. We can check you out for your purchase. We’re glad to give you your flowers before we find our meal for the workday.”

Ino’s mother sounded elegant and was the epitome of professionalism as she gave a gratuitous grin towards the women.

Both women huffed in defeat.

“No, miss, thank you for your time.” The darker haired woman gave a strained smile before she walked out, the redhead following.

As soon as the door shut, Ino let out an annoyed sigh. “Thanks…” She huffed before crossing her arms across her chest.

Her mother just shook her head softly. “Your cleverness and restraint amaze me sometimes. It was rather amusing.”

“It’s exhausting, not amusing. I much would have preferred to hit them. That was far from tasteful gossip.” Ino scowled. “How could they accuse Sakura of using sex to get rank! As if she isn’t a jonin level medic! Or uh, I don’t know, the medical director of our hospital! The disrespect!”

Her mother sighed. “People are going to talk, and you have to admit it’s at least a little scandalous. Those women are just jealous, and will say anything to make themselves feel better.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Ino argued.

Sakura walked in then, smiling. “What doesn’t make something right?” She inquired curiously. “What gossip did you dig up now, Pig?”

Ino turned, her eyes wide to see Sakura. “Oh, uh, nothing!” She chuckled nervously. “Ready for lunch?”

Sakura looked at her surreptitiously. Clearly, something was up. “Spill it. Now.”

Ino crossed her arms, before giving her a defiant look. “And if I don’t?”

“Are you going to make me beat it out of you? Was it about me?” Sakura deadpanned. “You never refuse to tell me gossip unless it’s about me and it's negative.”

Ino hated how well she and Sakura knew each other in moments like this. They couldn’t hide anything from each other. She sighed before uncrossing her arms. “It doesn’t matter, I handled it anyway.” She said matter of factly.

Sakura stared at her friend before shrugging. “You’re telling me at lunch, come on. Off to get our dango and tea. Director or not, I still run on a schedule. And I got behind after being gone a couple of days.”

Ino lips spread into a teasing grin. “Behind because you were off saving my ass or behind because qualities like procrastination and tardiness are rubbing off on you?”

Sakura gave her an unimpressed look. “I was late one time. Definitely behind from saving your ass from our deranged classmate.”

They started walking towards their favorite cafe. It was nice outside even if it was a little cooler. Leaves lay around the ground, dry and crinkling under their footsteps. She could only wonder what Ino was all in a tiff about today, being as she saw the very same women she knew to leave the shop with all too knowing smirks. She was also slightly discomforted by them because when they saw her, their expressions suddenly turned downright venomous.

It wasn’t too uncommon for her to get those as the news of her and Kakashi spread, once rumors became truths. It made her wonder about Anko’s offhanded ‘sex god’ comment. Maybe they were a couple of those one-night stands? She frowned at the thought, not thinking Kakashi would have entertained such rude women.

“Aren’t those the women that you got upset at for talking at Kurenai some time ago?” She wondered to her friend aloud.

“Oh, yes.” She snapped back. “They’re worse than me for spreading everyone’s business and their bullshit two cents about it.”

Sakura couldn’t remember the last time she heard Ino sound unenthused about new gossip. Usually, it meant it was about someone she cared about, and that it thoroughly pissed her off. Even more so unusually, she would normally be more than ready to rant her pretty reddened lips off about said women being conceited and judgemental and downright horrible.

Yet today, her blonde friend was being clipped and avoiding discussing the topic. She decided to test it out again. “So what treachery were they discussing today?”

Ino hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Sakura the things people were saying about her and Kakashi. Her friend had been so happy. She seemed to glow this past month since she had started dating him. She didn’t need to be troubled by people thinking the exact opposite of a situation.

She smiled at her friend. “Oh, not much. I just hate how they loiter in the shop and force me to deal with their presence, yet never buy anything.”

Sakura just gave her friend a bored look and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“That’s her. Can you believe such a young girl is with a man like him?”

Sakura instantly frowned, refusing to look in the direction of the people they just passed. She tried to remind herself what people said didn’t matter.

“I don’t think I want Mika to have a male sensei. Do they all prey on their students?”

Her expression turned into a downright glare. How dare someone to accuse him of such horrible things? Why did they blame him? Why was it so hard to just believe they loved each other? Hearing the things people said on the street made her miss the way their friends easily accepted them.

“Must be easy to make jounin when you’re the Hokage’s bitch, and fucking one of the commanders.”

Ino watched as all the same bullshit those women had said in her little shop floated around them. Maybe she wasn’t really able to protect Sakura after all, but she’d be damned if she was the one who brought that sort of mood on.

“Don’t listen to it. They're wrong.” Ino said sternly, flinging hard glares directly at anyone who dared say something within their earshot.

“It was me those women were gossiping about in your shop today, wasn’t it?”

Ino snorted. “I told them rather professionally exactly how I felt about their false ass opinions.”

Sakura sighed. “I think the ones I hate the most are him being a pedophile, or me using him to get rank.” Her face contorted into anger. “I’ve been a jounin since before I even realized I loved him, for fuck sake!” Sakura growled out.

“Does she pine after her whole team? First the traitor, now the sensei. Jinchuriki and socially inept next? Maybe she just whores around for them all.”

Now that one was just funny. She laughed as she and Ino entered their shop. “Alright, as if! Did you hear that one?”

Ino raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Sai knows how to fake an orgasm like he does a smile? That’d be rather disconcerting. Being cute only gets you so far.”

They sat down at their table and ordered their tea and dango. The homey atmosphere of this place always put Sakura at ease. The place had always been so down to earth, and the staff here were so nice and she had known most of them for at least quite some time now.

She remembers coming to this little cafe for the time with her team as a genin before Sasuke left. He claimed it was a treat for doing so well on a mission, before disappearing when it came time for the bill to be paid. She remembered feeling so angry back then, how dare their sensei pull some sheisty trick like that! But now it was just funny, thinking about times when their lives hadn’t changed so drastically.

“Watch out, Team Seven’s Mistress, coming through.”

Sakura wrinkled her nose. “Okay, now that sounds like a scandal for sure. I could never even dream of taking Naruto from Hinata, let alone sleeping with him. And don’t get me started on Sai.”

“Shouldn’t she be here soon?” Ino inquired.

As if on queue, the bell rang as another customer entered, and it was their black haired Hyuga friend.

“Hina, over here!” Sakura called.

Hinata meandered over their table and sat next to Sakura. “Hi, guys!” She spoke softly, happy to see her friends.

“Tell Sakura here to ignore these stupid rumors jealous nimrods keep spreading,” Ino said blandly. “Well, at least the boring ones.”

Hinata raised an eyebrow. “There are ones that aren’t boring?”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Apparently there’s one that I’m fucking my entire team.”

“Oh, now that’s just dirty! Who would do such a thing?”

“Which thing, fuck the whole team, or fuck Naruto?” Ino said in a teasing voice.

Their friend turned beet red. “I-I don’t either Sakura or myself would uh… Have relations with an entire team.”

Sakura slumped in her seat. “You’re right, but people think my sensei is a pedophile. Which hurts because he would never have thought of me, or any of young girls, in such a way.”

Ino and Hinata watched as Sakura looked so hurt. How do you tell your friend to ignore things she hears whispered as soon as she comes into a room, or simply a vicinity. No one had to deal with something like that. Then again, neither of them were dating men much older than them, or ones who had been their teacher. But why does that matter when they’re adults now? Sakura had been a jonin for two years now after she and Shikamaru had gotten promoted when the fourth war ended.

“They are just jealous that a younger, prettier, and more talented kunoichi took their eye-candy off the market.” Ino insisted. “Easier to keep their ego intact if they blame him for being gross, or you for using him.”

“I guess…” She sighed. “Look at me, worried about stupid gossip when my old teammate is hellbent on making me join him…” Sakura shivered at the thought. “Even now, there are three ANBU following me at all times.”

“Wait, even at Kakashi’s…?”

Sakura nodded.

“I bet they watch…” Ino smirked deviously.

“Ino!” Hinata squeaked.

Sakura just shook her head, more than used to Ino’s antics. She knew it would take her ‘innocent’ friend some time to get used to Ino’s crudeness, but she felt better being around both her close friends.

“Do you think people truly think that low of Kakashi? People think he would groom one of his students?” Sakura asked seriously.

Hinata shrugged. “You can’t expect people to necessarily think super well of someone who openly reads porn in public.”

“Hey, Icha-Icha is a wonderful series.” Ino piped in. “Even Sakura agrees with that.”

Sakura laughed at the comment. “It’s true, but I guess you have a point. No one sees that unless they’ve dared to read the beloved Ero-Sannin’s work. Lady Tsunade swears to burn every copy of those books, but she secretly has her first edition collection, signed by Jiraiya himself.”

“I guess society might accuse us of being molesters next, huh, Pig?”

Sakura frowned. “I sure hope not, considering I’m certain being a molester consists of much more than enjoying romance novels that might be slightly too pornographic at some points along with the good plot.”

Hinata giggled lightly. “I think anyone who had ever actually paid attention to you and Kakashi-sensei interacting would have realized you were the one going after him.” She smiled softly.

Sakura thought about that. She knew she never made intentional moves on Kakashi, but apparently everyone close to them knew they loved each other, or that there was at least something going on. She couldn’t help but feel touched at how accepting his friends were, even if Anko and Genma teased her relentlessly. Or made threesome jokes, which Kakashi bluntly shut down quickly. However, a large majority of people were the stark opposite.

She should have known that Ino’s ideals about them being shinobi bending morals a bit was closer to romanticism than what society thought in reality. She felt like she was just as much an adult as Kakashi and the rest, even in her 20s. She’s gone on deadly missions just like Kakashi, let alone with Kakashi. She’d been through a war. She’s damn near died, multiple times, and she had saved people’s lives and held the ones she couldn’t save.

Yet people dared to treat the situation like Kakashi was dating a child, instead of an equal? So what if he had trained her, it’s not like he ever made a move on her?

Hinata was right, she made the move on him.

“I knew what I wanted, even if I only got the courage to express it with a little encouragement from sake. At first.” Sakura crossed her arms. “But why do we have to justify our damn happiness?”

The waitress walked up to get Hinata’s order after that. “What can I get for you today, miss?”

“I’ll have green tea and a rice ball, please,” Hinata spoke softly with a pleasant smile.

“Sure thing!” She flashed a smile at them before striding away to take care of the order.

Ino sipped her drink before shrugging in response to the question. “I thought you already know people talk about anything we do, no matter what. Especially when they’re jealous, and you have plenty of things to envy.”

Sakura huffed before. “Yeah well, I didn’t get them without effort, and that especially includes Kakashi.”

The girls fell silent. Hinata and Ino could only say so much in attempts to make Sakura feel better. It’s not like you could ignore an issue when everywhere you went you were hearing whispers or receiving horrible glares sent in your direction.

The waitress brought Hinata’s order about and paused a moment. She looked like she wanted to say something, but seemed a bit nervous. She chewed her lip subtlety before looking at Sakura.

“Miss?”

Sakura raised her eyes to make eye contact with her and gave a polite smile. “Yes?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Kakashi now?

Sakura nodded, her smile fading slightly in fear of some directly aimed judgment. She came here often with Kakashi, he used to bring the whole team here.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m very happy for you guys. I’ve seen you guys together often, and sometimes I wondered if you were the one he bought the lattes for every so often. He’s come here for a long time, but he always seemed so…” She searched for the word for a moment. “Aloof. Always polite, but kept to himself.”

Sakura nodded softly. “He’s uh… He’s been through a lot, even more so than the average ninja.”

The girl gave a sad smile. “So I’ve heard. When he started bringing you and those boys here, he seemed to change. Like a spark in him ignited. Is it true that the blonde was his mentor’s son?”

Sakura’s smile turned a little less stiff as she nodded again. “The Fourth Hokage, yes.”

Hinata and Ino listened with small smiles, glad to see their friend getting some positivity towards her relationship from someone other than friends. Hinata’s face flushed slightly at the mention of Naruto as she thought of him distantly.

“I’m sorry about the things I’ve heard people say. Anyone who truly has been around you can see the chemistry you have, sometimes I wondered if you were secretly together. I have never seen him so relaxed around anyone besides you.” She smiled brightly. “He had friends of course, like those dashing men, Asuma and Genma. Or the….very lively Gai.”

Ino wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I’d consider Asuma-sensei dashing.” She muttered softly under her breath.

Sakura's eyes widened softly. “Thank you… It’s nice to hear someone say something nice about it.”

“Sakura, it’s almost the end of your lunch break isn’t it?” Hinata wondered aloud, catching the time on the clock. She gave a soft smile before

“Oh, look at that, it’s the rank climbing whore with her flower bitch of a friend.”

I guess that’s one way you could refer to Sakura and Ino, at least within the last month. She couldn’t imagine how upset Ino would be if she would only ever be remembered as her ‘flower bitch of a friend’. She would probably be remembered as Ino-Pig, and she hates that nickname.

She could attest to the fact that she hated being referred to as a ‘rank climbing whore”. Didn’t have to sleep with multiple men or do something dirty like have an afraid to fall under the description of whore? She had only just lost her virginity to Kakashi a month ago…

She sighed and reminded herself that these women wouldn’t care to hear technicalities and that it would probably only antagonize them to carry on with more horrible accusations and scornful comments.

The waitress instantly frowned at the woman. “I can ask them to-”

Sakura shook her head. “It’s whatever, don’t scare off your business. Thank you for your kindness.”

Ino instantly slid her gaze towards the nasty tone, sending daggers. “Are you even acutely aware that Sakura was made a jounin almost three years ago?” She spat. “Pretty sure she only got with Kakashi roughly a month ago, now carry on with your trivial lives.”

Sakura sighed and rolled her eyes, hoping the sting that suddenly arrived would go away with them. “Right, I need to go back to work. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” She stood from the table and turned for the door.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Are you gonna go run and tell mommy Hokage?”

Sakura’s eyes twitched as she started gathering chakra into her fists, ready to shut them up herself. How much disrespect could someone dare to have? Was this really out of pure jealousy?

She kept telling herself none of this was worth getting this upset over. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to cry from the humiliation or punch them through the wall of the restaurant. She had never felt so ridiculed before, and it was infuriating.

“I’ll bet my old student would be an easy target to get some action from when I was bored. Especially from emotional types like yourself. Just a few sweet words and you probably melted for him.” The other woman cackled.

Sakura bit her cheek before she left briskly, ignoring the shrieking she heard from Ino, or how Hinata tried to run after her. She felt stupid for letting those women get under her skin, but she couldn’t help it.

This is what people were saying? What else was there? Did she seem that naive, that her sensei could take advantage of her? She knew there would be talking about this, but she never expected those sorts of accusations. She expected disapproval and even some daunting glares.

She went straight for her office and buried herself in the paperwork she had to catch up. It was a decent distraction. Verifying shinobi physicals, signing them with her approval. Later they would need to be given to Tsunade. She signed paperwork regarding the children’s clinic she was opening with Ino, mainly financial documents for the grants involved in the program. More paperwork was needed to be signed for hospital grants for unfortunate patients.

Kakashi was walking to the cenotaph, feigning ignorance to all the looks she was currently receiving from the majority of the people he passed. Many whispers went about. Mostly about wretched of a man he was, accusations of pedophilia and grooming. Some against Sakura for whoring herself into rank, which didn’t make even a lick of sense if you asked him, considering she was made jounin after the fourth great war.

He sighed softly. There were much bigger issues now that these people couldn’t even begin to think about. If he ever thought that beginning a relationship with Sakura would have put her in danger, he wouldn’t have indulged in the idea no matter what, if it had meant she would have been safe.

Granted, it was starting to be believed by Tsunade that Sasuke was coming for her either way because he did Orochimaru’s bidding. And healing arms isn’t related to Sakura’s love life. Sasuke was bothered by the fact that Sakura was with somebody else, but was it that she moved on, or that she was with Kakashi in general? That was the question that was begging to be answered in his mind at the moment. No matter what, she would be safe. She might not have any special jutsu, but she had quite the punch with her chakra latent strength, so even in the event he wasn’t there, she believed in her to protect herself. Not to mention the three ANBU guarding her at all times, and he knew one of them was Genma, though she didn’t.

His mind wandered a bit as he walked from the cenotaph to training ground three, the same one he always used with his beloved team. His thoughts were everywhere, mainly on just how happy he had felt.

Nothing felt more right than when he laid in bed at night with Sakura in his arms. Her hair splayed about the pillow, her face buried against his bare chest. Her skin felt so soft against his, even with the few scars she held in comparison to his body. Listening to her breathe lulled him to sleep every time she spent the night at his home. She was so warm and inviting, and she always clung to him.

She still had nightmares. Sometimes she just trembled in her sleep, others he woke up to her sobbing into his shoulders or screaming his name with so much agony in her voice it ripped his heart out. He couldn’t imagine what she was seeing, he didn’t like to think of the ways Sasuke may have conjured up to murder him. He always held her close and tried to comfort her, but this had never been his strong suit. He stroked her hair and told her how much he loved her. It seemed to work well enough most nights, and he was glad because he didn’t know what else to do and it made him worry.

The copy ninja expected to find the training ground empty, but what he found was craters and cracks all over the landscape, along with uprooted trees. Usually, this is what you found when Sakura was training.

Or when she was coping with emotional stress which she has plenty of at the moment.

Was it Sasuke, or has the ridicule finally reached her? His clenched as he thought of everything he has heard whispered the past few days or the actual direct comments. Mostly from jealous women, some from other jounin who didn’t know a lick about them.

He meandered along, following the scent trail of jasmine perfume, as well as listening for either the next impact or the sound of her voice. He followed it well into the woods of the grounds. It seemed the damage done lessened the further he went, which concerned him. It felt like the anger was fading and turning into something more morose. He moved faster through the forest, catching a glimpse of a porcelain mask he recognized.

What he found was far from angry, at least now. She was kneeling on her knees, still in her hospital uniform. She was covered in dirt and green stains from nature she decided to take her stress out on. Her hands covered her face, covered in blood, dirt, and scrapes; the telltale sign she had been too far in her emotions to protect herself or even think about putting her gloves on. Her shoulders shook and as a choked sob escaped her throat, his heart just couldn’t take it anymore.

This wasn’t the first time he found her like this, and it wrenched him every time. But it was different this time because it felt like it was his fault to some degree. He never wanted to be part of something that could hurt her so deeply.

He approached her slowly, giving her all the time to notice his presence. When he came up to her, he crouched down and ran his fingers through her messy hair, letting the pads of his fingers drag against her scalp. She shuddered softly but didn’t say anything. He slowly sat down behind her and slinked his arms around her waist to pull her back snug against his chest.

She tried to force herself to calm down in Kakashi’s presence, but it only seemed to worsen. She reminded herself he wouldn’t judge her, that he’s never judged her. Wasn’t that one of the things she loved most about him? She still felt so stupid for getting this upset over some stupid bigoted opinions, from people who didn’t know a damn thing about her and Kakashi.

Then again, was that the only thing that hurt so much right now? It’s not like Sasuke hadn’t just kidnapped her best friend or threatened her team leader, that she just started dating. That Sasuke hadn’t shown her just how he might wish to make good on his threat to kill her lover.

The feeling of his fingers running through her hair made a shiver run through her and she let out a shaky breath. She felt him sit behind her and the safeness of his arms pull her close. Her chest hurt and swallowed another sob, still feeling this dumb need to act strong in front of him. If he had found her here, clearly he saw the damage she had dealt to the poor training ground before her anger morphed into pain. She turned her body into him and rested the side of her face against his chest. The silent tears soaked into his shirt but she couldn’t stop them.

“Sakura…”

She wiped her eyes hastily before the sob she’d been holding back ripped through her. The sound of his voice undid it and she was clinging to him desperately.

“I’m here for you,” He placed a chaste peck on her forehead before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got you, Sakura. I always have, you know that.”

He held her tightly before beginning to stroke her hair. “I know there’s so much going on right now. This stuff with Sasuke, and the talk around the village. Your nightmares. It can’t be easy, on top of continuing to work full time.”

The sound of his voice was a thread she clung to. Hearing the rumble in his chest when he talked, alongside his heartbeat gave her something to focus on that wasn’t Sasuke, or horrible gossip, or Kakashi being killed in some way or another. She took a long, deep breath. Everything felt so heavy.

She had just wanted to be with the man she loved, and she finally got that. Why did all this other stuff have to happen? Right as things started to get better, a wrench had to come in it. She knew that she still was with Kakashi, and she had high doubts he was going to leave, but she just wanted to enjoy it.

“Sakura, it’s going to be okay…”

He took her face into his hands and guided her to make eye contact with him. Her aqua hues were shining with tears that were still flowing down her cheeks. He wiped them gently and smiled softly at her.

She huffed and slid her fingers into his mask, dragging it off his face. “Better.” She muttered under her breath.

Kakashi chuckled softly before pecking her lips with his now bare ones. “Oh, I’m sure you think so. Just think, you’re the only one who gets to see me like this.” He held her tighter. “Who gets to have me like this, all to yourself.” He pecked her cheek.

“I know…” A small smile spread across her lips. “Ino keeps saying to ignore it, that they’re just jealous.”

“Hm, she may be on to something. I’m quite the looker.”

She rolled her eyes before sniffing once more. “Oh yeah, if only they knew what was under the mask.” She huffed. “Maybe some of them do…” She grumbled.

He shook his head, chuckling at the clear jealousy coming off of her. “Oh no. Not a single one night stand had ever seen my face. They would try, no doubt.” He pinched her ass playfully. “Only medics, who usually were too busy looking at the life-threatening issue on my body, and close friends have seen my face.” He smirked as he whispered in her ear. “Some medics are much cuter than others, and I might have let them drag my mask down and kiss me when I was drunk.”

She raised an eyebrow at him before a smile broke out across her lips and she giggled. “Better only be one of those.”

He nodded sincerely before pecking her lips. “Now, you’re smiling again and able to talk. What lead you to wreak havoc on this sentimental training ground of ours, and then break down?”

She averted her eyes instantly, not willing to fully pull her face out of his hands when they were so warm against her tear-soaked skin. Great, now she’s going to look ridiculous.

“Do think they’re right? That I used you to climb rank?” She mumbled.

He frowned. “I think that no more correct than me being a pedophile, considering the last time I check you were twenty. People twist things as they want to make reality appeal to them.”

“Ino said something similar. A bunch of women took offense that you found someone prettier, younger, and more talented. If they blame us, then their ego is still intact…” She almost laughed as she remembered another one. “Did you hear the one that I’m fucking my whole team?”

Of course, she found the humor in that one. “Whoever started that rumor must be oblivious because you’ve chased Sai and Naruto through the village with your chakra fists of wrath.” He laughed before pressing his nose against hers.

“Now, what is actually bothering you? Because I know that you don’t truly care about anyone thinks unless it our friends or Tsunade, who have all expressed happiness for us, with threats to my life if I hurt you here and there…”

He was meant with silence.

He sighed. “I’m the one who taught you to look underneath the underneath, and I especially know you’re bothered by way more than some gossip we knew would come.”

Sakura sighed and hugged him tightly. “I can’t stand this. I’m being guarded like a dog, all because Sasuke suddenly decides I matter because his snakey sensei put it in his head he needs me. I think I liked it better before when he was cold towards us.”

He ran a hand through her hair. “I know. But it’s best to keep you safe, and are you going to complain that you have to sleep with me at my house.”

She blushed lightly. “I gave no complaint about that part. More about this part.” She gestured her hands before pointing.

“One.” In a tree a few yards back.

“Two.” Leaning against a tree in the opposite direction.

“Three.” Right above her in a tree. “Which I believe I learned is Genma, because awhile a senbon just fell in front of me before a curse was muttered by that one.”

Kakashi looked up, noting she was right, that one was Genma. Shame on him for losing his anonymity so easily, but it wasn’t like Sakura hadn’t known who most of the ANBU were from treating them anyway. It’s a given he was the only one brave enough to be that close to his fiery little pinkette when she was at such an emotional high. He never knew when to leave anyone alone. He was one of the only people other than Sakura that insisted on ‘being there for him’ when he was having bad days.

“I also hate that I used to feel safe at home, and now I’m paranoid. All the time. He made it into the village without anyone knowing, all the way into my office! And he got out with Ino the same way!” She looked at Kakashi with an annoyed look.

“That bastard could be watching me right now, and I��d have not a single fucking clue!”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He felt all the same, except he was the one who had figured out he was in the village, and he hated the lack of action he had taken then. He should have done something right then and there. But he gave his former student too much credit.

And that’s how he feels like this is all his fault. But saying that wouldn’t help her. There wasn’t much he could do to change what was done, but he’d be damned if something happened again.

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up, okay? I bought you some books while you were at work before I came here.”

She smiled softly. He always tried, no matter how hard he felt like comforting was. Whether he knew it or not, he always made her feel better. As he stood up and put his hand out for her to grab, she grasped it tightly as he pulled her up. She inched up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss before his hands gripped her hips and held her there to kiss her back.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” She smiled softly before pecking his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably tear up all the training grounds, not just ours.”

She giggled softly. “Probably, but you didn’t have to say it.”

He let go of her, just to grab her hand and start walking towards the end of the woods in the training ground. “Come on. Asuma and Kurenai said something going on a double date, and I think you might want to look a little less haggard for that.” He smiled.

She glared at him. “Haggard? That’s a bit extreme!”

He chuckled as he dodged the fist he knew was becoming before he sensed it. “I love you, too.” He gave an eye crease as he pulled his mask back over the majority of his face.

“Hinata?” Naruto called out softly from his couch as he heard his door open.

“It’s me, Naruto!” She called back cheerily.

“How was lunch with Sakura? Is she… Doing okay?” He asked timidly.

Hinata sighed. “She’s… doing alright. The gossip around the village bothers her but I don’t think that’s really it.”

Naruto thought for a moment before sighing. “I don’t understand why he would do this. I thought his main goal in life was to gain power and kill Itachi, so what does Sakura have to do with that?” He grumbled. “She was so happy before all this. I just want to see her like that again.”

“Me, too,” Hinata said before sitting on the couch. “Ino said he acted possessive and jealous over the fact that she was with Kakashi. Do you think he’s always felt some way about her? Like maybe he’d come back for her once he killed his brother?”

Naruto frowned. “I think that’s what Sakura used to hope for, honestly. That he just had to do this one thing, and then he’d be able to come home. To love her, to be a family with our team. It’s what we all hoped for… in a sense. I think Kakashi was able to accept it sooner than we ever could that Sasuke was probably… never coming back.”

Hinata nodded, reaching over to grab his hand. “I know this is hard for both of you…”

He just nodded as he continued to frown at the floor. “Whatever hopes those were, they were ruined. I’ll never believe he loved Sakura if he was willing to cause her so much pain, whether it was over jealousy or whatever.”

“You should go train with your team some. It always helps me when I’m being bothered by something going on in life. I think it would be healthy for all of you.”

“You’re assuming that Sakura hasn’t gone and destroyed our favorite grounds yet.” A smile slowly spread across his lips. “Kakashi is the only one willing to go anywhere near her whenever she’s that upset. Sai and I prefer to stay far away from her chakra enhanced attacks.”

He thought for a while on that. It had always been that way. She and Kakashi were always there for the other. Just like most people left Kakashi alone when he was at the memorial, they left Sakura alone when she was destressing in training ground three. Yet, they both never left each other alone. He thought about how that’s what love is, what Sakura should get to experience. Not the way she felt for Sasuke, just this endless devotion with nothing in return.

She deserved the way Hinata always made him feel, and hopefully how he wanted to make her feel in return. A relationship with trust, admiration, sincereness, and respect was what anyone deserved. He wanted that for Sakura, and he still believed that Kakashi was where she got that from. He had never seen anyone look so happy as they did when they finally got together.

It was so hard not to preach at anyone that said so many ill things about his two teammates within his earshot. It angered him to see their happiness brought down the way people were judging them. Granny Tsunade already warned him it would do no good, but he knew if someone dared say something bad about Sakura close to her, a chakra infused from the Hokage herself was coming their way. So why couldn’t they get mouth load from him? Seemed unfair if you asked him, but he wasn’t in the mood to anger her with arguing.

“Kurenai-sensei and Asuma-sensei were planning a double date with them. I think they are trying to make Sakura feel better about the...dissent around the village.”

“Maybe that’ll be good for her. I don’t understand what the deal is anyway, I mean so what, he was our teacher? We’ve been in equal rank with him for almost three years now. And I couldn’t give a damn about some age difference when she could die tomorrow at 20 years old. Any of us could, right? We’re adults. It’s not like we’re kids anymore.” He huffed in annoyance.

Hinata sighed softly. “Just because we see it that way, doesn’t mean other people do. However, I’ve noticed most of the people spreading the rumors are women that wanted Kakashi themself. Ino said they’ll blame them to keep their ego intact.”

Naruto raised his eyebrows. “So basically a bunch of women Kakashi’s age is mad because he hardly gave them anything past a one-night stand. And that’s they were one of the lucky ones in the last decade, and now he’s with Sakura, who is youngers, prettier, and probably ten times the kunoichi they ever would have been…?”

Hinata giggled softly. “Yes, pretty much Ino’s exact words. Like typical, they’re putting down our friends to make themselves feel better.”

“Leaf shinobi are supposed to be better than that.” He grumbled before getting up from the couch.

“Not everyone has the same ideals as you, Naruto. But your ideals are one of the things I love about you, that so many people love about you, and why you’ve inspired many others. It’s one of the reasons why one day you will make a great Hokage.”

He smiled. “You believe in me, don’t you?”

“I always believed in you, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” She smiled tentatively.

He pulled her up by the grip he still held on her hand before kissing her softly, winding his arms around her hips. “I love you, Hinata,” He mumbled against her lips, pulling her against him.

She smiled before pulling away. “I love you, too.”

“Maybe we should plan a double date with them. That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it?” He grinned at her before pressing his forehead against hers.

“I think it's a good idea, and I’m sure they would enjoy it too.”

Kakashi brought Sakura a cup of tea and sat down next to her, handing her the hot drink of peppermint. She took it from him, instantly taking a sip from the cup.

He watched her closely. She was curled against the arm of his couch with her knees against her chest. Her pink strands just barely fell around her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. Her face was still stained with tears, but she had changed into one of his shirts and a pair of her shorts she had brought here. She seemed a little more relaxed, not so overwhelmed by the anger and pain. He could still sense how uneasy she felt, and he just wanted to make her day better. He hoped the dinner with Kurenai and Asuma would help lift her spirits some, a positive in all the negatives.

He loved her so much, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He’d heard everything the village had to say, some of the things he had once thought about himself. That he had been disgusting. He hated himself for it.

But now, he couldn’t think of life without her. Without being able to hold her at night, or to kiss her. Without being able to see the way she smiled whenever he told her he loved her. The warmth she held for him in her beautiful green eyes whenever she looked at him. He didn’t want to think of a day when his bed no longer had the faint smell of her jasmine perfume.

“Kakashi…?” Her voice sounded soft and hesitant.

It pulled him from his thoughts instantly. “What is it?” He asked softly, looking up to meet her eyes.

“You’ve got that distant look you get when you’re thinking about something sad…” She set her tea down on the coffee table.

He tried to smile lightly to shake off her concern. “I’m okay, it’s nothing.”

She rolled her eyes before shifting over to his side of the couch. “Okay, sure. I’ll pretend to believe that. Now lay down...”

He shifted so that he was laying on his back, and watched her curiously as she crawled over his body. She laid between his legs, resting her cheek against his chest. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable before wrapping an arm around her back. She let out a contented sigh before closing her eyes.

He ran his free hand through her hair gently as a smile spread across his lips. He kissed the top of her head. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just said so.” He spoke softly, a little surprised she had demanded affection.

He thought she might get distant from him, too bothered by some of the things people dared to say, maybe even think they were true. He should have known she wouldn’t believe them for a second, but it didn’t stop him from preparing for the worst. He played with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands loosely around his fingertips. Her body felt warm against his, and it was a comfort he never realized he needed until the first time he held her so intimately.

“Does any of this gossip bother you at all?” She wondered aloud.

Her voice sounded so small to him. It was rare she sounded so unsure. She was usually so confident these days. He wasn’t surprised to see that it bothered her, even if she felt it was stupid. He knew what was going to happen when everyone found out, but it didn’t mean he liked it or that it didn’t bother him. He used to listen to all the things that were said about his father, so the village dissent wasn’t new to him. Minato had urged to learn to ignore it long ago, but it did seem more difficult to ignore these, at least the parts where he was accused of some things he couldn’t even dream of.

“Some of it does…” He sighed. “I can’t act like people just assuming I’ve always had a thing for you doesn’t upset me. I also fear that you might feel they’re right, and it’s not true.” He tightened his arm that had been around her.

He tried to figure out what to say that didn’t seem accusatory, but also still be honest with her about his concerns.“I don’t care what they think, but I worry about how what people say will affect you, and your view of me…”

He watched her closely as she lifted her head to look at him. “I love you, and nothing anyone says will make me think any different of you. I just hate… It angers me that they just instantly assume you’re this gross creep when it was ME who initiated this relationship.”

She huffed before resting her chin against his chest. “If anyone should have ever felt harassed, it was you… But no, they just automatically assume you’re just this lecherous man that groomed me from the time I was twelve.”

“Well, I do read porn in public, so people have the right to believe I’m lecherous…” He smirked. “Not everyone knows it had some real plot to it, or care to know.” He brought a hand to her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “Just like they won’t care to know the real story behind us…”

She was looking into his eyes, at his face, before she bit her lip. “So, you don’t think I just used you and clung around you to climb the ranks as some of the women are saying?”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me some jealous sluts are making you doubt your real abilities as a kunoichi? How would you have ever charmed me into giving you jonin rank? I was tough on you guys, not to mention I’m not the one to credit for your abilities.” He kissed her nose and then her Byakugou seal. “Tsunade is to credit for all your skills, not me. I’m not even the one who gave you the recommendation. I wasn’t allowed to be a proctor for your exam either, because you were my student and it leads to bias- negative or positive.”

He pushed some of her hair out of her eyes again before smiling at her. “You earned jonin, and I’m damned proud of you for it. The other jonin kunoichis are just pissed because you’re better than them and they know it.”

“Mmmm, and maybe because I have Konoha’s number one bachelor all to myself?” She grinned, blushing softly at his words.

“Well, of course. Thank gosh, because the ‘hot-ake’ pickup lines at bars were becoming rather boring. And now, when a girl doesn’t know how to take a hint, I can just ask her if she likes chakra punches for a drink?”

Sakura burst into laughter, burying her face into his chest. “Oh, yeah, that’ll make a great reputation for us to have.”

He sat up, taking her into his arms. “Team Seven already has quite the rep, I doubt that’ll change. Now, go shower for that dinner with Asuma and Kurenai. It’s my job to make us late, not yours, remember?” He carried his slender pinkette into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the sink.

She was beaming at him as she placed her hands on each side of his face. “I love you so, so much, Kakashi.”

He gazed into her eyes, thankful for the happy glow returning to them. “I love you, too, Sakura. I always will…” He gave her lips a quick peck.

As he stepped back, she slid off the bathroom sink counter until her feet were on the floor. She began to strip before her eyes widened with sudden realization. “What the hell am I supposed to wear to this dinner on such short notice?”

“Oh, I got that covered. Dress in the bedroom. I hope you like it…” He gave a sheepish smile before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He chuckled at the tinge of pink that spread across her cheeks. He wasn’t sure how that was worth blushing over, considering all the other things they’d done lately. He picked up her teacup from earlier and walked into the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink for later. When the shower turned on, he moved onto the bedroom, gathering up things he had grabbed from her house while she was at work.

He’d seen her go out in various settings enough in the past few years to know that his favorite person took care to do her hair and makeup. He had grabbed her makeup box, along with both her straightener and curler. He almost forgot the hair dryer at her house but had turned around at the door to get it. He wasn’t exactly sure what shoes she would want to wear. Looking back on past conversations he had overheard, this was supposedly a difficult task, according to Ino. He just grabbed the black, ankle high boots that had a buckle(which he realized was just for looks), and a small heel. Surely, those went with anything, right? Hopefully.

He grabbed a few more things before taking them back to the bathroom. He hung the dress up on the towel rack, as well as some underclothing he bought for his own eyes later. He looked around the bathroom. Never once had it ever felt small to him, but now he was wondering where the hell he was going to put three new additions. Did women need both a straightener and a curler?

“I think I’ll need to invest in shelves if you’re gonna be here forever.” He said in mock annoyance.

“I’m using your razor, just in case your mind, but it’s too late if you do…” Sakura said languidly, clearly paying more attention to her legs at the moment. “And what are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled before pulling the shower curtain aside. “Your lotion is on the sink when you’re done. If you need my help, I’ll gladly lather your legs with it for you.” He gave a wink before leaving again.

“Oh god, we’d never make it dinner if I let you do that.” She mumbled affectionately as she finished the last stroke up her leg.

He stared blankly at the curtain once it was closed, wondering just how the hell Kakashi knew what lotion she even used. She shrugged it off, not putting it past him to look rather odd sniffing random lotions in the store until he found a scent he recognized. The thought made her heave with laughter as she rinsed the excess shaving cream off her legs.

She stepped out of the shower, and her mouth fell open in her surprise. She quickly realized what he meant by needing to get shelves, as there was nowhere to put all her hair tools besides the straightener on the sink, hair dryer on the back of the toilet, and the curler on top of his medicine cabinet. Her lotion, which was the same bottle from her house, was sitting next to the cup that held his toothbrush.

She grabbed the towel on the hanger, to see the dress hanging there, and her heart was full.

It was a dark emerald green a-line dress. It had a sheer lace overlay that had floral patterns stitched into it. The lace continued over the chest into long sleeves, completely see through around her shoulders and arms, the solid colors would frame her chest. It was so dressy but simple all at once. Pretty but not too much, it was perfect.

And then there was the navy blue lingerie set next to it that just made her turn rosy-colored all over again as she started to dry herself off even quicker.

“Kakashi, you bought lingerie?!” She screeched in embarrassment.

He laughed, having finally heard the response he had expected. “Sakura, I buy porn in public, I don’t think buying lingerie for you is that shocking.” He came into the bathroom. “I also noticed you were severely lacking any.”

She huffed and pouted in his direction. “Oh yes, because I had so much reason to wear it.”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction in surprise. “You don’t need a ‘reason’ to wear hot things.” He stepped behind her and reached for the garments.

He held them to her form as he spoke against her ear. “This navy will look stunning against your smooth and light toned skin. It’s strapless, so it won’t show through the sheerness of your dress. The woman said this lace is comfortable. And I honestly just wanted to see your ass in thongs. I am a pervert afterall.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll hook the clips for you if you’d like.

Sakura stared down at the blue fabric. She’d seen plenty of Ino’s lingerie, having been made to help her blonde rival choose which to wear on particular occasions. She had never felt the need to buy any. Ino seemed to only wear it on dates, and she never even bothered with those. Not to mention, it’s not like she even had all that much to show off. She bit the inside of her cheek before turning to face Kakashi. “Uh… Sure.”

He frowned. “Is something wrong? You don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“N-No! It’s not that. I love them, I just… don’t have the body for it.”

Kakashi looked at her dumbly for a moment before turning her body to face him. “Sakura, I promise you, you do. If you didn’t have the body for it, they wouldn’t make your size, which I had to ask Ino for before you ask.”

“Oh, god! I’ll never hear the end of how romantic or hot or whatever it is that you bought me underwear that...might feel slightly more appealing than cotton.”

“Much more appealing than cotton.” He corrected her with a smirk before tilting her chin up and kissing her.

She returned the kiss before pulling back. “Okay, fine. Much more appealing. Now, get out so I can get ready. Your lips are way too enticing.”

“My kisses or the fact you can see them in general now, hm?” He teased.

Damn him.

“Both, now go before we’re late! You have to get ready too, don’t you?” She playfully pushed him towards the door.

“I won’t take anywhere near as long as you.” He shot back as she effectively pushed him from the bathroom.

When he heard the hair dryer turn on, he looked at the time and realized maybe he should start getting ready. He lazily walked back to his room. He pushed through the hangers that had old, worn out ANBU uniforms hung on them. He wondered if they would ever be used again. He found the smoky gray long sleeve button shirt he had been looking for. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even worn this shirt. He vaguely wondered if it had been the funeral service for Jiraiya.

He stripped down to his boxers before grabbing the black slacks on the hanger behind the shirt and slipping them over his form. He grabbed the shirt and the tie, laying them over the bed. He pulled a white t-shirt from the drawer and pulled it over his lithe form. He grabbed the button up and slid his arms through the sleeves. He buttoned it up to the top, leaving it open. He glanced at the tie, debating if it was necessary to wear. He tucked his shirt and buttoned the pants. He adjusted everything until it felt comfortable and wasn’t pulling one way or another. He grabbed the dress shoes from the floor of his closet, and her boots before walking back to the living room.

She came out of the bathroom to see Kakashi folding up the sleeves on his shirt, which was a much hotter sight than she thought it could have been. She smiled lightly before sitting down next to him.

“Thank you for the clothes… And bringing all that from home.” She spoke softly.

He nodded as he looked over, finding her as beautiful as always. The dress had gone to the middle of her thighs. He could see the difference in her wearing the bra instead of wrappings in her chest which was an appreciative sight he hoped for. She had put on some shimmery gold shadow and smooth liner along her lashes that ended with a small wing. Her lips were tinted pink and shined with gloss.

She looked gorgeous.

“Nobody would ever think you were kunoichi if they didn’t know the only pink haired person in Konoha was none other than my lovely Sakura Haruno.” He smiled before kissing her cheek. “That dress looks way better actually on you than it ever did on a hanger.”

She smiled before leaning against him. “I like it. I’m kind of excited to go on a double date with them. It’ll be fun, right?”

He cracked a half smile. “I’m sure you’ll make it fun.”

She smiled before slipping the shoes and standing up. “Well, let’s go!”

She was brimming with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even worn makeup, let alone fully dressed up. She grabbed Kakashi’s hand as soon as they got outside of the apartment complex, and had not let go of it since. The subtle click of her heels as she glided through the streets to the park they were supposed to meet their friends at was enough to draw everyone’s attention to them.

He followed her idly, almost being dragged as she insisted on walking so much faster than he ever did. The way her eyes shined with happiness, and the way the light from the streetlamps caught the glitter in her shadow, was mesmerizing to Kakashi. She didn’t look like that for anyone, but she had done all that for him. He never thought she needed makeup, but the gold went well with her eye color.

She didn’t seem to notice anyone looking at them as they walked together. When she looked back at him, all he saw was pure love and joy, and it made his heart clench. That’s all he ever wanted to give her, no matter what.

“You look beautiful, Sakura…” He gave an eye crease and squeezed her hand lightly.

A light blush dusted her cheeks before she looked away and walked to the gate of the park. Asuma and Kurenai were already there.

“Hey, guys!” She grinned.

“What do you know, Kakashi did wear something other than the jounin uniform.” Asuma said in a defeated tone. “I guess I owe Genma twenty bucks now.”

“I told you.” Kurenai said as she rolled her eyes.

“I still can’t believe he’s with her, of all women.”

Another woman sighed in annoyance. “Clearly, you don’t know what life is like as a ninja. Sakura is one of the most caring people in the village, and that vet was her sensei but only for a short time, she was mainly trained by Lady Tsunade.”

“She’s a child!”

Sakura turned her head towards the conversing women, surprised to see someone she didn’t know defending them. Curiosity shone in her eyes, and she felt Kakashi pull her towards him, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry about any of that tonight.” He murmured into her ear. “I’m not having some random opinionated people ruin your excitement.”

She turned to him and smiled. “You’re right, I guess.”

“Kurenai said the women are being more brutal about this than they were when we started dating.” Asuma chuckled.

Kakashi scoffed. “Oh, trust me. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime, and it’s not even the only scorn I’ve dealt with, however, it’s for sure the worst.”

Sakura leaned up and kissed his mask cheek, leaving a slightly sparkled spot on the fabric. “Blame Naruto for convincing us to confess.” She giggled.

He looked down at her before sliding his hand down to rest on her hip. “Sure, why not. But I don’t regret it either way.”

They walked alongside their friends into one of the fancier restaurants and sat down in a booth. They chatted idly for a while about anything and everything. Kakashi mostly watched Sakura, just happy to see her smiling nonstop. Happy to think it was things he did that made her smile and feel so happy.

He watched her lips as she talked, starting to understand a little bit why she wore the lipstick in the first place. She always had pinker lips, but the red made them more prominent and seemed to demand his attention. He moved his hand to rest on her thigh, a bit surprised by how warm her skin was.

“Wait for a second, you don’t even know who the ANBU that are assigned to guard you are? I mean I know anonymity is their thing, but usually, in guarding situations, at least the person being guarded knows?” Kurenai shook her head in disbelief.

Sakura shrugged. “I wasn’t told. It must not be that dire to hide who they are, because I doubt Genma would be careless enough to accidentally drop a senbon in front of my face.”

“The other two don’t know you outside of being Tsunade’s apprentice, my former student, and now my lover who is being threatened by a missing nin who was formerly your teammate.” Kakashi said lazily as he blinked a few times to focus back on the conversation.

“In other words, they probably don’t see a reason to reveal who they are if they don’t already know you.” Asuma affirmed.

“I picked who was watching you. I would have preferred Tenzou and Genma, but he’s still on our team and not with ANBU anymore. So just Genma will do, but I trained the others myself. They also think I’m a pervert.” He gave an eye crease.

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Overprotective? I’m pretty sure Shishou would have chosen decent candidates. I’m almost her daughter, according to Shizune. And that’s because everyone knows you are one.”

“Nope. She asked me to choose.”

“Ino keeps insisting the ANBU watch you guys fuck, and I insisted that there’s still privacy in guarding, especially when the last person she is getting guarded against is Kakashi, contrary to some of the villager beliefs here.” He added with a chuckle. “However, now that you mention Genma is there, I have some serious doubts.”

Sakura’s complexion instantly heated up into a cherry shade. “You don’t actually think-”

“Shizune threatened before I did, apparently.” Kakashi said with a chuckle.

Sakura stirred her miso soup a little more before taking another bite. “I sure hope it worked.” She mumbled.

She thought loosely about this moment, just out on a date with their friends. She had always wanted something like this. Just comfortable and genuine, just love. His hand on her thigh was surprising at first, but comforting. She didn’t miss the gazes that were pointed toward their table, or how people whispered, but she forced herself to focus on the date.

Which wasn’t that hard as she kept stealing glances at Kakashi dressed more casually. She definitely could get used to him wearing clothes that fit his form a little snug compared to the standard jounin garb. She enjoyed the way the fabric moved over his well-toned figure but was still loose enough to only just barely give an outline of the muscles that flex under it.

She felt Kakashi’s hand slowly moving across his thigh, and she dared to glance at his face, which looked perfectly normal, and nothing like he was stroking her skin under the table. She gulped as she crossed her legs over his hand in an attempt to hide it from others. His fingers felt cool against her heated skin, and she was trying to fight off the building arousal. He only squeezed her thigh in response which led to her stifling what would have been a small moan.

It was awfully hard to focus on anything people could have been whispering about them when she was trying to keep control of her pleasure, and she wondered if that was his goal. Or if he was just being the pervert he was and enjoying toying with her, having known how sensitive she is to even only his touch. Judging by the imprint of a smirk under his mask she could see if she squinted, it was probably both.

“I don’t think even Genma is stupid enough to test Kakashi on that matter.” Kurenai flashed a comforting grin. “So, how did you two finally figure out you both loved each other?”

Sakura smiled in return. “Well, drunk us shared a kiss, but he got all “this isn’t right” and I told Hinata about it a couple of days later.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Naruto came to my apartment ready to beat the breaks off of me because she didn’t just tell Hinata, she sobbed to her about it.” He corrected her as he removed his hand from her thigh, letting his fingers slowly slide off her skin.

She shivered slightly before huffing with a pout. “I’m sensitive.”

“Oh, I know.” He gave her an eye crease. “I tell Naruto I love her and some other sappy shit, and he tries to convince me to tell her but I won’t. And he ended up convincing her to tell me.” He pulled her against his side and brushed his lips against her temple. “And now here we are.”

“Is this part where you skip me finding you two together?” Asuma asked with a knowing grin.

“I had suspected you had some type of feelings for her before the bar. I knew she did because she never smiled as much as she did around you. After the way you threatened the guy at the bar, I was for sure about you.”

“Now just what made me so obvious?” Kakashi furrowed his eyebrows.

“You, well you with three careens of sake in his system, acted more like a jealous boyfriend as opposed to a protective team leader. Right down to openly wrapping your arm around her waist and stroking her hip.” Asuma deadpanned as if that was a stupid question.

Sakura’s cheeks dusted pink once again. “Ah, so that part didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else like I thought it had…” Her voice was quiet and timid as she felt Kakashi rubbing her hip through the fabric of the dress in the same manner as the night before.

Kurenai laughed softly. “Kakashi hardly ever got involved with women, so when he does we pay close attention. Anko was the first to point out that he was way more touchy with you than any other one before.”

“Wait, really?” Sakura asked as her curiosity became peaked before amusement shone in her eyes. “Well, no wonder why every freaking woman in the town hates my existence right. now.��

Kurenai and Asuma both laughed at her amusement at that new fact. Their plates were about finished and it was seeming to be the end of the night out. They all said their goodbyes before heading back home for the night.

The whole walk home, she couldn’t help but wonder how Kakashi was rumored to be phenomenal in bed. Well for her it was far from a rumor now. But how did he have that when he didn’t want to be touchy with the women? He would touch and stroke and kiss every inch of her body whenever they made love, and she couldn’t picture him being any other way. It seemed like it was half the fun for her. Then again, she’d never had sex before Kakashi, let alone casual sex. Maybe that was the difference?

#kayparkerwrites #kakasaku fanfiction #kakasaku #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno #kakashi x sakura #inner turmoil #fanfiction #naruto #naruto fanfiction #ino yamanaka

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lemonsandstrawberries · 6 years ago

Text

The Pitted Olive, part 7

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Drag Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)

summary: Tony hosts a meeting for his drag queen friends and Steve hangs out with his mom, deciding to share some big news with her.

length: 4 850 words

disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!

a/n: LONG TIME NO SEE, RIGHT? I admit, I got a bit lost with this series... also I wasn’t so sure if I liked the direction this story was heading, buuut then decided that this topic can’t be avoided and is a big part of every lgbt+ person’s life. also, I do enjoy a bit of drama. and there is no better month to be back with this series than pride month! hope you will enjoy this update!

——————–

The Pitted Olive, part 7

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

Steve usually didn't need a lot of sleep. Five, six hours of rest were pretty standard for him and plenty to let him function through the whole day. Maybe it was that yesterday, he and Tony had decided to stay late at the Pitted Olive, prolonging their stay to see Tootsie's rock performance and Arrow's new juggling routine and he indulged more in the Long Island Ice tea than his body was used to, that the next morning it was exceptionally hard to get up from bed. He just wished to stay in, wrapped in warm covers and softness, and let his body decide when it wanted to wake up, instead of his always disciplined mind telling him that it was way past his usual sleep hours. He heard Tony woke up some time ago, but his boyfriend remained tactful and quiet and didn't want to disturb the blond, and moved swiftly and unnoticeable. Steve had moments of wakening up and nodding off, always feeling Tony's presence somewhere close, without being able to pinpoint exactly where he was, but it was enough to keep him calm and deep in sleep.

Until this one moment.

Steve was still wrapped in blissful sleep when he felt it. The dip of the bed, the thigh pressing against his leg, radiating characteristic heat. Someone looking at his face and leaning in, soft breathing hearable in the quiet surroundings. Steve thought that wakening up by a kiss was a quite good scenario, a scenario he would happily follow. It just wasn't this scenario.

One sharp tug and pinch at his eyebrow and Steve's eyes sprung open, his hands moving to cover his face and press to the hurt skin.

"Ow!"

"Got you, you little bastard."

"What the-" Steve focused his eyes and saw Tony looming over him, a satisfied smile spread over his boyfriend's lips. Steve continued to massage his brow, not understanding what just happened and why he was insulted as the first thing after wakening up. "Tony, what the fuck-"

"Show me," Tony demanded instead, pushing Steve's hands away and cupping his chin, eyes sharp and analyzing while he was looking at his face. "Oh, yeah, much better. That hair was driving me crazy. Although, you could use a little more plucking on the left side."

And then Steve saw it. In his free hand, Tony was holding tweezers, the torture device getting too close for Steve to feel comfortable.

"No!" Steve yelled out, grabbing at Tony's wrists and trying to pull his boyfriend to himself and trap under and Tony was successfully not letting him.

"But your eyebrows are uneven!"

"And?! Do you think I care?"

"I care! Just let me- just a bit- hold still!"

"No, it hurts!"

"Oh, don't be a baby!"

Steve opened his mouth to say something back when while during wrestling with Tony something caught his attention. He looked at his own hands and let go of Tony for closer inspection, brunet immediately taking the opportunity to launch another attack of the tweezers and Steve temporarily knocked him to the side, hearing a yelp of protest. He rolled on his stomach for further protection and examined his hands closer. The nails, usually clipped pretty short for comfort, were filed into a perfect oval shape, cuticles were pushed back and there was a light coat of sheen nail polish on each nail. His hands also felt a lot smoother, with no rough edges, just as if someone massaged a heck lot of hand cream into the skin.

"Did you give me a manicure while I was sleeping?" Steve asked, eyes glued to hands that didn't look anymore like the ones he remembered having.

"Uh, yeah. Hope you don't mind, I was bored," Tony said, flopping on his side and coming closer to look at his work. "Turned out great, right?" he asked, some proud note making its way into his voice.

It was a change for sure. Steve turned his hands and looked at the fronts and bottoms, quite liking what he was seeing. Who would have thought that hands could look so nice?

"Um, yeah."

"Glad you like it," Tony smiled, "I tried to give you a pedicure too, but you kept kicking me away whenever I touched your feet. As for someone who is such a heavy sleeper, you can get very squeamish when it comes to your feet."

Steve just laughed in an embarrassed way. Somethings were better left without an explanation.

"Hey, baby, hold still," Tony whispered, placing a hand under Steve's chin and turning his face to his. Steve saw tweezers getting closer and his skin immediately started to crawl.

"No!"

"I said hold still!"

"You hold still!"

Some kicking, some wrestling, and some mutual screaming later, Steve managed to press Tony down into the covers and trap him in, taking the torture tool out of his hands.

"AHA!" Steve called in triumph, holding the tweezers. "Let's see how you like it!" he said with an evil grin, leaning in and planning to make Tony taste his own medicine.

"Go ahead," Tony invited, smiling back. Steve intended to, but… The evil grin disappeared and was replaced by a more and more confused look as he was examining Tony's face. Eyebrows in a neat shape, no strand hairs. Smooth cheeks, the goatee trimmed to a perfect length. In a desperate, completely dirty move, Steve even looked for nose hair, but those were also properly taken care of.

"See?" Tony smiled wider, pointing at his face, and spreading his fingers. "Flawless," he said, making a clicking sound with his tongue.

Flawless indeed. Even Tony's skin looked smooth and plump, and maybe Steve should reconsider his statement on not letting Tony massage tsubaki oil into his face every evening, unlike Tony did.

Still...

"AH!" Tony yelled out when two hands shot under his arms and wriggled fingers into the, of course, smooth armpits, tickling viciously. "Stoop!" he managed to choke out before frantic laughter started to spill out. "You whihihiiill give mehehehee wrinklehehehes!"

Steve only smiled again, thinking that Tony's laugh lines were so fetching and that there was nothing wrong in making them a bit deeper.

***

"I need you out of the house."

"Huh?" Steve looked up from his bowl of sugar frosted cereal. They had such a lazy, long morning changing into afternoon, that none of them felt like preparing a proper breakfast, settling on Tony's secret stash and choosing something to go with the already lazy day. They even stayed in bed, getting crumbs all over the bedding. "You are kicking me out?"

Tony giggled, holding a cup with coffee in one hand, and blueberry pop tart in the other leisurely leaned against the bed frame. "Just temporarily. My girls are coming over and I think you will get bored."

"Girls?" Steve asked, spooning the soggy cereal into his mouth.

"Other drag queens. We have those meetups to discuss makeup, dress designs…" Tony's voice faltered as almost ending the sentence before he continued. "Current love affairs…"

Steve didn't answer at first, the edge of the bowl pressed to his lips as he slurped out the sweetened milk. When he looked at Tony, he had milk mustache on his upper lip and smiled teasingly. "Oh? So you will talk about me behind my back?"

"Only if you leave," Tony said, sounding humored by his young lover's playful behavior. "It is not fun to gossip about you while you are here."

"So, who is coming?" Steve asked, trying to keep his curiosity at minimum, and not be too noisy what exactly Tony would say about him.

"Girls from the Olive, so, Tootsie and Arrow, my friend from a different drag queen bar, Lady Mint -"

"Bucky is coming over?" Steve asked, putting the bowl aside. Somehow he couldn't picture his friend discussing material for dresses and lipstick colors.

"He is," Tony confirmed, finishing the pop tart and putting his empty mug aside, "but not for your lame bro time, but for my fabulous girls time."

Steve laughed at the word choice. "If it is that fabulous, maybe I will stay?"

"You are welcomed to, if you want to," Tony shrugged, "just a fair warning, we will probably put you into a dress and makeup-"

"I am out," Steve said without any hesitation, wriggling out of the covers and standing up.

"Ah, Steve, wait!"

"Hmm?"

"Uhhmm, before you go, could you help me with something?" Tony asked in a sultry voice, sitting up and smoothening hands over the covers in a slow, long move, until he was laying flat on his belly, legs crossed delicately in the ankles. Eyes having that helpless, pleading look that made Steve feel weak in the knees immediately. It was almost hypnotizing.

"Yeah, sure," Steve assured breathlessly, focusing back on his gorgeous boyfriend. Whatever it was, he would be happy to assist.

Tony smiled, slow and beautiful before he rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled out a shoe box from underneath. He took the lid off and Steve saw a pair of black pumps, made from shiny faux leather, on an extremely high and slim heel, in Tony's size. Steve's breath immediately quickened. He and Red Velvet made out a couple of times, but fooling around with Tony while he was wearing only parts of his female side's wardrobe, was a new level of excitement.

Tony took out one pump and ran his fingers over the shiny surface, and Steve saw the red sole of the boot. Then he took out the other one and held both of them in one hand.

"Can you break those in for me?" Tony asked sweetly, reaching the pumps in Steve's direction.

Steve froze, his brain registering the words, breaking them apart and putting together again. Break in. Black pumps. Him.

"What?!" Steve asked, and it came out harsher than he wished it did.

"Pleaaase?" Tony whined, putting his hands together in a pleading gesture, the pumps bumping into each other with a soft sound. "I need them for my nearest show and it will take ages before I break them in, with your shoe size it will just take a day-"

"Nu-uh. Your shoes, your problem," Steve said firmly, more than sure that he would break a leg minutes after putting the shoes one.

"Oh, come on! Please? Pleease? I promise to leave your eyebrows alone!"

"I said no, Tony!"

And chaos started anew.

***

Ultimately, Steve decided to stay, not because he wanted to be a part of the drag queens meeting, but because Tony batted his long eyelashes at him and asked for help with preparing some snacks, because he forgot to order catering and serving drag queens cheesy puffs and carbonated drinks Tony's pantry had plenty off, seemed just wrong. Steve made a quick round to the nearest grocery shop and came back hauling bags with fresh veggies and rice paper for spring rolls and veggie platters, and followed the very specific instructions Tony had given him what kind of cheeses and fruits to buy for a more decadent cheese board. In the meantime, Tony gave his living space a quick clean, all the time wearing the black pumps, which was very, very distractive for Steve, who had almost cut his finger off while he was dicing the cheese into bite-sized pieces. So, they decided to switch. Literally.

Time was passing, and soon the first guests started to show up.

"Honey?!" Tony called from the kitchen table, arranging the fresh veggies around the homemade dips, when the doorbell rang, "can you get that?"

Steve grunted, closing the door to the closet, just in time finishing the vacuuming. "Really, Tony?" he called back, his feet tired enough as it was.

"Please? You are closer to the door," Tony reasoned and while it was true, Steve grunted again, knowing that his boyfriend just wanted to torment him more. Dragging one foot at a time and walking in slow, wobbly steps, Steve had made it to the door, just in time as the person on the other side started to rattle on the doorknob impatiently.

"Coming, coming!" Steve opened the door, seeing Bucky, holding a bottle of sparkling wine and six pack of beer.

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky grinned at his friend, tilting his head up and creasing his eyebrows. "Huh, I thought you were smaller."

"Who is that?"

"It is Buck!" Steve called, motioning for Bucky to come in and taking steps back, the clicking sound drawing Bucky's attention to his feet.

"What-" Bucky burst into laughter, seeing Steve's feet squeezed into two sizes too small pumps.

"Ah, my daughter!" Tony called playfully, coming out of the kitchen and joining them. "Air kisses!" he said and him and still laughing Bucky leaned closer to each other, smooching the air around their cheeks with an exaggerated 'muah' sounds. "I think you can take them off now, Steve," Tony said, turning to his boyfriend.

"Finally!" Steve breathed out, happily kicking off the pumps, his face saying pure relief. Tony slid his feet into the shoes and did a short test walk, before smiling wide.

"Perfect. Thanks, honey!"

"Beer?" still chuckling Bucky offered to Steve, holding the six pack and encouraging Steve to take a one. "You seem like you need a one, pal."

Steve couldn't agree more.

***

The place was getting crowded and more lively, as more drag queens started to appear. Tony's friend showed up next, boy name Bruce, drag queen name Lady Mint, who worked downtown and was a type of drag queen Tony referred to as a comedy queen, meaning exaggerated makeup and a witty, observant sense of humor. Bruce as a person seemed like a nice guy, a bit distant and in his own world, but Steve could picture that drag brought out a new side in him. Arrow showed fashionably late, carrying a stack of fashion magazines and fabric samples, the most invested into the costume design world of all queens.

It was loud and joyful and Steve was having fun.

"So, let me put it straight," Steve started sipping his beer when the party started for good.

"Ha! Straight!" Arrow hollered, swirling prosecco in her tall glass. "Your boyfriend is so cute, Red."

"I know," Tony beamed proudly and Steve continued.

"You are the multitalented one," he pointed out to Arrow, meaning her talent for designing clothes and nearly circus acts on stage, and Arrow held her chin proudly, "you are the funny one," he turned to Lady Mint, "and you are the pretty one," Steve ended on Red and then turned to Tootsie. "And that makes you-?"

"The alcoholic one!" Tootsie exclaimed, holding her beer can high, the rest of her sisters joining in a cheer.

"And Mint is not only the funny one, but she also has Ph.D. in nuclear physics and biochemistry," Red said and Steve whistled quietly, because, well that was impressive.

Mint smiled gratefully at her sister, and Steve had to add that she was also the modest of the group. "Red is also an academic."

"Oh, please," Red waved her hand dismissively, "I just have some doctorates, but I still chose to spend my days fixing the world's most respected car brands," she said, trying to brush it off as it was nothing, but there was some smug note in her voice she didn't try to hide.

"And I can burp out the alphabet," Tootsie bragged and Steve laughed together with everyone and heard Lady Mint turning to Tootsie and asking if she ever thought about doing a comedy routine.

Steve felt really good and maybe he would extend his stay, but then the hour for him to leave came.

"Hey, I will be going," Steve said, taking Red by the elbow and interrupting the discussion over a fashion magazine and material samples about if Red could pull off a dress with an open leg or not.

"Huh? Why?" Red asked, genuinely surprised. She thought Steve was enjoying himself. "Are you still worried we will put you in drag? Don't worry, we won't-"

"We won't?" Arrow asked, lifting her head up from the magazine, sounding disappointed.

"No amount of makeup will help that face," Tootsie grumbled out, teasing her friend, and Lady Mint snorted so hard, the prosecco came out through her nose and more laughter followed.

"Add that to your act, Minty!"

Someone called but Steve and Red already walked away from the chaos, Red watching Steve taking his jacket.

"You are welcomed to stay," Red said, sounding minimally hurt.

"I know, and I would love to," Steve replied, pulling his shoes on and smooching Velvet's forehead. "I just made plans earlier. Promised my mom to drop in for dinner, didn't see her in a while."

"Oh," Red blinked in surprise. That was a sweet surprise. "Uh, then say hello to Sarah from me," she smiled, her voice sounding a little odd as if hiding something, but Steve didn't notice.

"I will. Will see you tomorrow, okay?" Steve said, leaning in for a proper kiss. "Bye gu- girls!" he called in general direction of the gathering, hearing a collective bye in return.

"Bye," Red said with a soft smile, closing the door behind her boyfriend. She waited a bit at the door, in case if Steve would forget something, but he didn't come back. Before chaos could start again, Red turned to her sisters and daughter with a serious face and a burning question. "Okay, ladies, real talk time!" she called, clapping in her hands for attention and waited for all to focus on her. "What do you think of Steve?"

"Oh, he is gorg!"

"Seems like a decent guy."

"You can do better than that punk!"

Red just smiled and sipped her sparkling wine, hearing the collective thought exchange about her boyfriend. Except for Bucky's half-hearted remarks, everything was positive.

"It isn't important what we think, though," Arrow said, flipping a page in the magazine, "what is important is what you think. So?"

Everyone turned to her, waiting for the moment of truth. Red looked down, thinking about the last months with Steve. Steve was kind and honest and sweet. He had some hidden heat in himself and a lot of passion. But most importantly, he seemed to love both sides of him, equally fascinated by Red Velvet as by Tony Stark. Tony felt safe and loved and pampered, but Steve also wasn't afraid to give him a piece of his mind when needed. It was very rare to find a person like that.

"I like him," Red finally said, "a lot. I think I really like him."

Arrow hummed in agreement, Lady Mint smiled, glad for her sister finding happiness, and it was again Tootsie who had to spoil it all.

"Please don't tell me that my best friend will become my new dad, I won't handle it."

And just like that it became loud and cheerful again, and Red was outvoted on if she would look good in an open leg dress, but she could definitely wear a body tight dress with a slit in the back going all the way down because her bubble butt was one of her greatest features.

***

"Hey, ma!"

"Stevie!" Sarah brightened as soon as Steve walked into his childhood home. She went to greet her son, her voice becoming stern suddenly. "Did you wipe your shoes on the doormat?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve nodded with a grin. Somethings don't change, no matter how old you get.

"That's my boy," Sarah praised and Steve leaned his head for a hello kiss on his cheek. "Go wash your hands before dinner."

"You need any help, ma?" Steve called after Sarah and took his shoes off, as the woman already moved back into the kitchen.

"No, just hurry up, before soup gets cold!"

Steve smiled to himself. Really, some things never change.

While Sarah was putting finishing touches on the mashed potatoes, Steve slowly finished a plate of tomato soup with noodles. His mom remembered that he wasn't a fan of the acidity in tomatoes and added a generous splash of sweet cream, making it smoother for the palate. With time, Steve's taste changed and he was better at handling more sour flavors, but still, the gesture was sweet and the soup tasted like his childhood. They didn't talk much, but the silence around them was so comforting and Steve just soaked in the serene atmosphere, feeling like a kid again.

"Ready. Eat up," Sarah smiled, putting in front of Steve a plate with a huge scoop of mashed potatoes and a generous portion of beef tips, all smothered with dark and shiny sauce. Delicious, homemade food.

"Thanks, ma," Steve smiled, taking his fork and watching his mom reaching her hand for his empty soup plate. "Please, ma. Leave it, I will clean later. Sit with me for a while."

Sarah seemed surprised, but smiled in the end, accepting the invitation. "I will just get us something to drink," she said, and Steve huffed a bit, wishing for his mom to finally sit down with him and rest. He kept his eyes fixed on his mom as she brewed tea for herself and poured a tall glass of lemonade for him, and Steve saw that there was something different about his mom, but he couldn't exactly point what. Chewing slowly on his food and savoring the taste, Steve kept thinking about what could have changed. His mom was always a beautiful woman, but she valued hard work over looks and as a nurse spent most of her days caring for others than for herself. Hair always tied in a low ponytail, almost no makeup, maybe for some people it was bland and boring, for Steve it was modest and natural. And now… Sarah's complexion seemed glowing, her pale skin having a healthy shine, hair seeming somehow thicker and brighter. When Sarah finally sat down across her son and smiled at him, Steve noticed that she was wearing mascara and had subtly contoured eyebrows, which gave definition to her whole face.

"Hey, ma," Steve said, taking a piece of the tender beef and mushroom on his fork and into his mouth. "You look different."

"What do you mean, dear?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her tea. That drew Steve's attention to her hands which also changed, not calloused anymore after long hours from working, but smooth and soft, nails in neat, oval shape and coated with sheen nail polish. Just like Steve's were.

"I don't know," Steve said mysteriously, "but you look nice. Is there a reason you got all dolled up?" he asked playfully.

Sarah laughed embarrassedly, something Steve inherited from her. "So, you noticed, huh?" she asked back, looking down at her knees with a small smile. "I am just trying something new."

Steve nodded, silently chewing on the piece of meat. Since his dad died, years ago, he saw his mom closing in, struggling to find a place for herself. If a bit of makeup was what she needed to feel better, Steve supported that wholeheartedly.

"It is all thanks to your friend."

"Mhuh?" Steve said with a mouthful of potatoes, almost dropping his fork. "Dohny?"

"Dear, please," Sarah said in a petulant voice and Steve swallowed his food properly, before speaking again.

"Ma, did you mean Tony?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve which earned him another stern look.

"Yes, Tony," Sarah confirmed, meaningfully sliding a napkin closer to her son. "I bumped into him some time ago, and I asked him some more about skincare because the facial mask he recommended worked so well. Since then we stay in touch," she said and Steve could only listen and force his mouth to stay shut. He didn't know that Tony kept in touch with his mom. "It was his idea for me to start applying some makeup again and he recommended me a really good beautician and manicurist. My friends started to notice the change too, they say I look ten years younger," she laughed warmly.

"You always looked young, ma," Steve quickly cut in, meaning every word.

"That's sweet of you. Are you ready for dessert? Made your favorite," Sarah smiled, standing up and heading to the counter.

Steve bit his lower lip. Why Tony didn't tell him about being in touch with his mom? Was it because of the last time and the freakout he had when his mom saw him and Tony together, and Steve started to panic that she might suspect something? Seemed so… And Steve felt really bad, that he was ready to kiss Tony in front of strangers and basketball teams, but felt too guilty to hold his boyfriend's hand in front of his own mother. And Sarah seemed to get along well with Tony… And…

"Tadaaah!" Sarah exclaimed playfully, putting in front of Steve a perfect slice of a perfect apple pie. "Hope you still like it."

Steve loved it. But somethings he loved more. Someone.

"Ma… Please, sit down."

Sarah looked alarmed at the sudden change of tone and the serious look on her boy's face.

"I need to tell you something," Steve continued, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. Now or never.

Sarah sat down, her face clouding with worry.

The apple pie had to wait.

***

It was late evening when Tony had just finished putting the leftover veggies into the fridge and straightened up, stretching his spine out. He could call the drag queens meeting a success, but he also felt so tired. He smiled when he saw a torn out page from the fashion magazine stuck to his fridge with a magnet, a ruby red maxi dress with an open back presented on a model and Arrow's print next to it.

'Think about it! Just lower!'

Tony chuckled, looking at the design. He would never walk out on the stage in a dress that showed his ass crack. Showing to Steve like that in the privacy of his home, was a totally different story… He took the page with himself and went to the bedroom, thinking that maybe he would try some new facial mask and take an extra long bath. He just finished changing into his tiny bathrobe, when he noticed his phone vibrating on the nightstand and Steve's photo flashing on the screen. Tony accepted the call, already smiling to the thought that Steve was so sweet and called him just to wish him a good night.

"Hi, honey! Did you miss me already?" Tony asked in a flirty tone, waiting for a reply that didn't come. "Uh… hello? Steve?" Tony tried again. There was some uneven breath on the other side, and before Tony could panic, Steve finally spoke in a hollow voice.

"I told my mom."

"Told your mom wha-" Tony's voice got stuck when he realized what Steve meant. Sarah was a sweet lady, but hearing that your child was gay was probably never easy, even for the most loving parents. Tony really feared what he might hear next. "Oh, sweetheart…" he started in a voice so compassionate, the only answer he heard was a chocked out sob, Steve tried to hold in. "What happened?" Tony asked, not hearing the answer, just the sound of a car zooming past. "Wait… Steve, where are you?"

More silence. Tony could almost feel how tormented Steve was.

"Steve. Where the hell are you?" Tony asked, growing more and more worried. He heard enough of heartbreaking coming out stories and he would never live it down if Steve would become one of them.

"I am in front of your building."

"What-" Tony immediately got up from bed, running to the window, hoping to see his boyfriend. It turned dark already and he didn't see much. "I am coming for you, stay where you are."

"Tony-"

"Stay where you are," Tony ordered, ending the connection. He didn't care to change and only wrapped a coat around himself and slipped bare feet into a pair of sneakers, not wanting to waste any time. He grabbed his keys and his phone, just in case, and ran down the stairs, ignoring the elevator and finding it too slow in such an urgent situation.

"Steve!" Tony busted out of the building, running into the street and looking around the sidewalk, searching and hoping. He saw Steve where he said he was, just on the other side of the street. No wonder Tony didn't spot him at first. Tony crossed the street and stopped in front of his boyfriend and the sight was breaking his heart. Who knew for how long Steve had been standing like that. His cheeks were flushed from cold, eyes glossy and tired, and he still kept his phone pressed to his ear, listening to the silence.

"Honey… Come on, let's go. Please," Tony reached his hand for Steve's cold one, and gently tugged him over and together, step by step, they walked back into the building and back to Tony's apartment.

————-

<– previous part ….. next part —>

————-

Bruce’s drag name was created by a dear friend of mine @steve-sketchbooks. thanks for your love for this story!

————-

tag list

(if you want to be tagged for updates in this series, send me an ask and I will add your username below)

@destiel-is-classic, @prithvik , @azurixx , @mangakats, @mystey-writes,@w1nters-stark, gloriousmarvellokiturtle, @the-pop-culture-geek

#stony #superhusbands #tony stark #steve rogers #drag queen #drag queen AU #au #the pitted olive #the pitted olive fic #fanfic #fanfiction #no tickling

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247krp · 7 years ago

Photo

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Yoo Kihyun, spotted prancing about in the Northeast Side. I remember seeing him with The Gents and Ladies back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say insecure and gentle? Apparently now he spends time as a sous chef at Gosang Restaurant and freelance photographer, and keeps skeletons buried at Banjeom Apartments, 403. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Quasimodo; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

kihyun hated himself. hated his mono-lid eyes, his abnormally large nose and how weirdly its shaped, his ears bigger than his head, his face shape, his body, his whole being. his insecurities toppled over him and becoming that weird kid with the over-sized dark clothes for his scrawny body with a camera glued to his face. he was glad about that. at least the camera would distract everyone from the horrendous person he is. at least with his camera, he could capture beauty and the smiles of others, distracting himself from what he lacks. but it didn’t distract those who did not care for a picture and instead took notice of his looks. those who noticed bullied him, shoved him against lockers because they knew he wasn’t going to do anything but protect his camera from reaching any hard surface. so once the gents and ladies approached him, he took precaution especially one of the girls he’s doted upon from the moment he laid eyes on her. he knew he was an idiot for liking her. there were countless reasons why she would befriend him and none were because she found him attractive or wanted a genuine friendship. he had an idea that everyone in cheongnam had a malicious motive and befriending the ugly weird kid would give someone major brownie points in the end.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

he enlisted into the military right after high school because the emotional pain of 3 years in high school just wasn’t enough for him, so physical pain would put the cherry on top. no, but really kihyun wanted to get away for as long as possible and wanted to forget he ever existed after he got on that bus. with a shaven head and a room full of people he didn’t know, he was finally able to breathe. after a strenuous 2 years, kihyun returned back home feeling like a completely different person in and out. he’s become more level-headed, thinks before anything else, and does his best to look good in order to feel good. socially, he’s become better and can hold a conversation pretty well and the only thing that keeps him from feeling too far from himself is photography. Even after being away from it for 2 years, just by picking it up feels like he’s had it the entire time he was away. kihyun’s learned many crafts, but the one that stuck more was cooking. in the military, he and a few others were put to cook for the group and in the end, he ended up loving it. now he settled in working at gosang restaurant, learning from the best.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

his father did not want kihyun. kihyun was a mistake out of one drunken night. a mistake out of boredom. a mistake of infidelity. as a senior inspector in KNPA, he promised the mother financial help for kihyun in return for her silence. the mother, a family friend in love with kihyun’s father, agreed and decided to raise kihyun on her own. she never spoke about his father nor did she ever answer any questions of him. she kept telling him that it wasn’t important and dismissed him right away. the absence of his father was difficult the moment he hung out with other kids in school. he felt envious of them, angry at his father, and disappointed by himself for not having a father. there hand to be a reason to why he wasn’t there and that reason, he convinced himself, was him. families looked at them differently as well, seeing as how only his mother attended meetings and kihyun having nothing to say when asked about his father. rumors spread of how kihyun had one parent and that alone created a border between him and the other children. he would be picked on once in a while. he was called bastard from kids who probably didn’t know what it meant but heard it from their parents. kihyun knew too early about it and accepted it without knowing he didn’t need to.

it didn’t get better in middle school as it was the moment he began to notice his imperfections. everyone’s bodies were beginning to grow and everyone was awkward, but not as awkward as himself in his eyes. acne, scrawny body, big ears, crooked huge nose, kihyun had all the worst aspects and everyone else’s teasing him didn’t help the situation. even those having it “worse” than him, kihyun thought they were perfect. he had a negative mentality stemming from childhood and it only made him more upset. more angry at himself and at the world. his little glimmer of hope was the first camera his mother bought him. it was a cheap film camera, but it helped him escape behind the lenses and it helped him finally see the beauty of the world and how it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

despite knowing high school wasn’t going to be any different from middle school, he had slightly more confidence with his camera in hand. the bullying didn’t stop but only got worse. with the reign of gossip girl, she even gave a push to his bullying by nicknaming him ‘quasimodo.’ words were turning into pushes and kihyun felt like his only safe place was in the dark room where no one could see him. but no matter how much he tried to hide, someone managed to find him and that someone became a group named the gents and ladies. kihyun wasn’t sure to trust them or not. no one had bothered to befriend him until now and he believed there was a motive behind it. a cruel trick by them or they found some use for him only to throw him away right after. however, there wasn’t anything other than genuine feelings. or at least that’s what he’s wanted to believe has a crush had formed for one of the girls in the group and everyone knew it but her. even with a group of friends, he wasn’t protected by the fake ones. he was called over from various crowds and only one managed to convince him to party with them. they intoxicate him until he couldn’t remember a thing the next day, but he wakes up with blood on his knuckles and a throbbing head. that’s the beginning of the rumor of kihyun being violent behind his timid demeanor and that’s the first time it wasn’t the nickname gossip girl gave him that left their lips, but his real name, yoo kihyun, from people that didn’t even know who he was.

he enlisted into the military after graduating high school. he didn’t even wait for the ceremony. he just got up and left. he watched the hair fall from his head until the sound of clips stopped, leaving him with little to no hair on his head. he met people there, people who knew nothing about him, giving him a chance to become someone new. to show them the person he’s always wished to be. and they accepted him and he felt at home for the very first time. 2 years passed quickly and at the age of 20, he comes back home in a chilly January day. he’s greeted by his mother with open arms and actually felt at ease being back home. he didn’t have difficulty settling back in since he’s learned how to cook in the military. although he was lacking, he didn’t hesitate to apply for jobs and take cooking classes in the mean time. finally, he stumbled upon gosang restaurant and stared as a kitchen staff. once he turned 23, he was brought up as a sous chef the moment the original one had to quit. kihyun still practices photography. he bought various cameras and even takes gigs here and there, and he finally feels like life is leading in him in the right direction.

#247: accepted

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fibrointechnologies · 5 years ago

Text

A day in the life of a Digital Marketing Team

There's always juicy gossip revolving around how companies work or how employees work in an organization. For some people it's like an eye-opening experience about an industry, for some people it's a heads up of what is awaiting them and for others, it's just about random knowledge they can acquire. So, we've decided why not spill some beans and make you aware of how our company works. This is a typical schedule of how we work on a very busy (awfully busy) day.

During the Covid-19 we really felt like Amazon employees who work quadruple harder than normal times when sale season hits. So, here's how it goes:

8:30 AM: Me, office admin and couple of people log in. We come in earlier than usual because we dare to. Coming early helps us clean out the creases from previous days (if any). It also gives me ample time to schedule the content library and get it sorted for the day's task. Before starting out, I also end up reviewing submitted and not submitted tasks from the previous day, to avoid any recurring ideas or mistakes.

9:30: Normal working hour starts and almost everyone is here. The past one hour had been a warm up to the start line and it begins now. The developers are in, the manager clocks in, designer, digital marketing team opens up their systems and are ready for the five lights to blow out.

9:45: 15 Minutes after logging in, we're assigned our tasks. They come in via our official mail ids. This is also the time for the client facing developers to address glitches, so they can be discussed in the meeting and it is evolved into a troubleshooting for the client.

9:50: The meeting begins. The morning meeting lasts anywhere between half hour to three-quarters of an hour. The main discussion is to address the tasks in hand, the roll outs at the end of the week, designs, structures, glitches and content. This meeting is where the developers, designers, I (content writer) and the digital marketing team pitch in their suggestions and talk about what directions to take on each assignment. We spread out a blue print and we create a middle road that works from all the side. Before the meeting ends, we review our previous day's performance and mark our goals for the day.

10:30 to 11:20: Everyone is back to their desks and have begun their jobs. The content team starts out writing the first of the drafts that need to be done by the end of the day. They contain short passage contents to extra-large web contents. As we open two monitors side by side, the designer on the other end is working on the looks of the website. The digital marketing team is reviewing paid ads and organic content, meanwhile the developers are pushing through to finish the final troubleshooting for the sites that need to be launched at the end of the day.

11:20 to 11:35: Tea breaks and team banter. After steaming through a lot, we get these 15 minutes of break to discuss all the issues across the world whether it affects us or not. Sipping tea like Englishmen and banter like an Irish Pub we savour these 15 minutes more than anything as it brings out some interesting topics for conversations.

11:35 to 13:20: Heads down and scenario 7 (just youtube for Scenario 7 memes). The troubleshooting for the sites which will go on live is at its end stage as our manager is out of the cabin and is watching our developers do their job. Meanwhile we're finish all the short content before lunch because we'll have to start bigger website content soon. The short content involves everything from small passages to marketing collateral, and more such blah blah. Meanwhile the designers are creating new websites and sending out previously inked designs to clients. This is also the time when all the clients who previously received content, designs and other collateral call out sending out their praises or require some changes. We also look into scheduled maintenance and renewal around this time and our client facing developers do their absolute best. While this is happening on one side, the other set of developers have finished trouble shooting and have put the site on server before loading it into their domains. The begin work on new set of projects and meanwhile the digital marketing team has finished optimizing older campaigns and is inking out the new campaigns from the blue print. 10 minutes before lunch, the content team consolidates content which is finished and sends it out for submissions and approval. Those ten minutes are when the digital marketing team decides to pull out the secret weapon called 'Please provide us content'. Just before lunch, we enter a psychedelia and whip out absolutely eye burning monstrosities.

13:20 to 14:10: The lunch break is close to 50 minutes and it's like a pitstop in an endurance race. It lasts long enough for the food to digest and our brains to rest. The lunch period banter is all about pulling each other’s leg and having fun. It also happens to be salary day, so we ask who's treating whom with a cake or food. Lunch break is all about talking about random stuff that doesn't make sense and arguing about who's done the most work. Hahaha

14:10 to 16:20: Another two hours of hardcore work. If you think, we've very little time to do work, then you're wrong. A lot happens in these two hours. The amount of brain power used is unnervingly scary and if there was machine to calculate the aura, people would be scared. The content team works on all the new long form content and also works on the content for any assignment that was issued by the client at the last moment. The design team works on all the creative designs as the website designs have been inked out and are sent out for review after getting a thumbs up from our manager. The development team is doing its hammer time to push their car to the finish line before the tea break. The digital marketing team has put out everything it needs to put out in around 1 hour and is monitoring growth and data. The team is also optimizing SEO from the previous week's data.

16:20 to 16:30: This is a considerably small break. This is a small tea break with team banter included.

16:30 to 18:30: This is like a test match now. Post tea-break this is the final stint. The usual working hours end at 18:00 but some people stay 30 minutes late to clean up creases. All the new sites have reached around 30% of their conversion rates, sites are being launched one by one, we're getting calls from clients regarding the launch. The designer by this point becomes a bit relaxed with his sole focus being on new website designs. The developer team also pulls out the breaks and starts throwing out the big guns, as the conversion process begins. The digital marketing team is on monitoring duty as well as optimization duty and they do their push, push duty. I call out scenario 7 once again to the content team and it's one last rush to the finish line to clean out all the issues before deadlines.

18:00: The first of people leave finishing their work. That will be the content and digital marketing team.

18:30: The manager bids his byes to the office as the designer and developer leave along with him.

A typical day is also stressful sometimes and we've come to associate ourselves with it. If you like the article, give it a thumbs up, share it with your friends and spread the word.

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thesubtextmachine · 7 years ago

Note

Winter prompts 20 - for whatever pairing you most want to write with!

Okay so this is “hug me so I can get warm”, and for some reason i made this Blair/Vanessa from Gossip Girl, because what is life if it isn’t about trying new, possibly irrelevant things?

Also, this is a college fic and keep in mind that I only saw the first three episodes of season three, so I’m basically operating on the basis that Blair and Vanessa aren’t roommates, and that Vanessa’s roomie is a pleasant sociology student. Also I forgot Blair’s major and made shit up, it’s fashion design in this. Hope it’s good!

So read under the cut, and because I’m feeling positive (it’s a direct result of the really good chicken I just ate) I’m putting it on ao3, so watch out for that!

Vanessa is knee-deep into some paperback about Italian neo-realism, trying to get caught up on her required reading, when Blair throws open the door with her posh brand of theatricality that accompanied every single one of her actions. She cringes at the sound of the doorknob banging metallically against the beige plaster, but avoids spilling her warm, chamomile tea. After quickly assessing the damage of the doorknob on the wall (minimal, if any at all, thank god), Vanessa turns her gaze to her girlfriend.

"How are things?" Vanessa asks through a chuckle, taking in Blair's annoyed expression and the snow piled on top of her hair, presumably from the snowstorm outside. After a quick moment of schadenfreude on Vanessa's (incredibly warm, thanks to sweaters, a quilt, and tea) part, Blair respond.

"Hug me so I can get warm," Blair states, not even a request as much as an order. She drops her bags on the floor and holds her arms wide open, oozing silly and petulant energy.

Vanessa chuckles, putting her tea on a side table next to the couch she's currently draped on, and stands up, not even nothing to shed the quilt that rests on her shoulders. With heavy, wool-socked steps, she stomped across the dorms of her small dorm, stepping awkwardly over the clutter. She almost trips on her roommate's sociology textbook, but finally makes it to the forever impatient Blair.

She stops directly in front of her, but pauses.

"Take off your jacket," Vanessa says, and the authority in her voice rivals that of even Queen Blair.

"I’m cold," Blair replies, appearing slightly affronted.

Vanessa only winds the quilt further around her, a direct contrast to Blair's still-open arms (they had relaxed considerably, but they were still obviously preparing for a hug).

"It’s covered in snow, I’ll get soaked. Take it off."

There's no argument in her voice, but Blair still holds steady.

"But I’m cold, Vanessa!" Blair whines, and Vanessa poorly represses a smile.

"You won’t be cold if you take off the jacket so I can hug you," says Vanessa, and Blair replies with a long-suffering sigh as she unbuttons her thick, probably Parisian and definitely soaked coat. Finally, the coat itself is crumbled on the floor, along with Blair's bags, and all that's left is a shivering Blair in her black turtleneck, paired with pants and half of an up-do. It's undeniably an Audrey Hepburn look, and it charms Vanessa enough that she doesn’t hesitate to give Blair a warm, soft hug.

Vanessa can feel the hollow coolness of Blair through her sweater, and smiles when Blair digs her head into Vanessa’s shoulder, as if all she wants is to be enveloped in the warmth of Vanessa.

"I have some tea leftover, if you want some. It’s chamomile, which I know isn’t your favorite but-"

"I would love that," Blair interrupts, and she says it with such quiet confidence that it makes the moment seem suddenly bigger.

As Blair tightens her embrace even further, Vanessa realizes how big this all is, how absolutely monumental everything they’ve built together has been. By the way that she feels Blair smile against her shoulder, she suspects that Blair does too. They begin to rock a little bit, side to side, and the change in movement makes Vanessa move away.

"Why the hell were you outside in the snow? What could possible be open in that kind of storm?" Vanessa asks, guiding Blair to the small couch in the corner of the small room, lovingly taking the quilt off of her shoulders and giving it to Blair. She takes it with appreciations wrapping it around her until she's buried in it.

"Remember when Irene from my design class beat me at that snowball fight, and I swore that we would have a rematch? Well, not only did I get my ass kicked again, but I probably have a cold," complains Blair, trying to burrow herself further into the couch in the quest for warmth.

"Snowball fight in a snowstorm? How did you get such a high GPA?" asks Vanessa, but there’s no venom, only amusement. She moves to the mini-kitchenette to get some of the tea that couldn’t fit in her mug, closing the door left open by Blair on her way.

"I’m sorry, my school didn’t have classes on when to have snowball fights. That must’ve been it," says Blair, rolling her eyes sarcastically while Vanessa, on the other side of the room, laughs lightly, pouring tea into Blair's designated mug (it's some cheap thing from a gas station, a rosy shade of pink with the word "princess" emblazoned on it in some cheesy font).

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the SAT doesn’t measure street smarts. Or common sense itself, if your score is anything to go off of," Vanessa replies as she walks back to the couch, handing the mug to Blair with a smile.

"Ha ha, you’re just jealous of my brains."

Blair reaches for the mug, and takes a testing sip of it. She gives Vanessa an approving smile, and makes space for her girlfriend on the couch. She loosens the tight hold of the quilt, and spreads it out enough to cover about half of Vanessa's lap. She snickers at the valiant effort, and instead opts to lean fully against Blair's side, regardless of the cold that she was probably developing as they spoke. This is an immediate win-win situation, as Vanessa not only gets contact with Blair, but also gets some more of the warm contact of the quilt.

"You warm?" Vanessa asks, a loving smile on her face as she looks up at Blair, who had been looking down at her.

"Of course," replies Blair, her voice tender in the way that she only saves for these quiet moments between them. She tilts her head down to give Vanessa a soft peck on the forehead before settling back in their previous position.

"You better be," jokes Vanessa, and she finds herself feeling recklessly content in the soft giggle that’s Blair's response.

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c-rankin93 · 8 years ago

Text

Uncle Archie Knows Best

A/N: so me being the anti-social person i am, decided to troll Tumblr. When i came across THIS lovely post about MMFD prompts, and i haven't done a prompt for many moons.. soo.. i wrote this in about an hour, because of my 'shes no you' multi chapter creation. so hope you like it even if its just thrown together and i though id just add the tag list to my other Fic.

Runs and Hides now... Because i dont even know where this came from!

Archibald at your service...

Now let me tell you a story, a fickle little shrine to two people I love dearly. A story so pleasantly surprising you'll be wondering 'what happens next?' You've seen Rae's point of view, and maybe even Finn's, but have you viewed it from the outside looking in?

I can read Finn better then a poem written by Shakespeare himself, and Rae let's just say hostility and regret can never be covered by a sarcastic joke. Her facial expression tell a story of their own, I just so happen to be a fantastic Explorer. Summer of '96, currently 3 days, 7 hours and 19 minutes ago was the last time I had seen or heard from either Rae or Finn. Which was incredibly odd because I ALWAYS get the one moody phone call from Rae everyday, telling me to get my arse moving and to meet her at the pub. Oblivious to the time she's calling, which would be tethering on lunchtime. And I, being the early riser I am would already be wide awake and on my 3rd cup of peppermint tea. Finn on the other hand would just levitate around, half the time fading into the background by the jukebox until it was time to see Olivia. Olivia, Finn's new prized possession. The 24 year old business women that seemingly found a newly fresh 17 year old attractive enough to date. And if Finn's docile smiles have any indications, he really didn't know what she saw either. That stupid boy jumped head first into a pile of his own shit, when he got involve with Olivia. I know why he did it though, Rae hurt him that night she broke up with him. He wasn't stupid, he had heard the rumours about Liam and Rae. The kiss. The fight. He wasn't even keen to go on the date in the first place, but he walked outta the pizza place with a new girlfriend. Coincidence? Yeah, your probably right. So what happens when Uncle Archie knocks some sense into a dim witted Finn Nelson? Nothing. You know why? Because they hadn't contacted me in 3 days! No 'thank yous' or 'Fuck yous', just a whole lot of silence. My mind maybe a little fuzzy, my alcohol ingestion that night was more then I'm willing to disclose. But I do remember what I said to Finn outside the pub after Rae made a dramatic, but also quite hilarious exit... (Fades off into a memory. Woooohooo *spooky fingers*) "Finn, a word. Outside?" My eyes gravite towards the gang; who are still wondering 'what just happened?' Before they land on the boy in question. He too looked a little put out, but agreed to talk. Finn kissed Olivia's cheek quickly, then trailed after me into the bellow freezing temperatures of a summers night in Stamford. We huddled close together around the side of the pub, away from prying ears. He kept looking around, trying to see what direction Rae sprinted off to and when he saw her fading figure he frowned. "What the bloody hell were you thinking Finn!" I pointed an accusing finger at him and shoved it into his chest multiple times. "Wot?" He replied, defending himself from my unslaught. "What do you think your doing bring Olivia to the pub? Especially when you know Rae will be there!" This boy was smarter then he looked. He knew exactly what he had done tonight, he brang Olivia to show everyone he had moved on. He just had no idea that was the topic I chose to broach with him tonight, we'll until now. "I didn't do anythin' wrong Arch. Liv wanted to meet you all tonight, especially 'Cause she knew Rae was there. She wanted to get to know everyone." I swear gay men are the only smart creatures on this planet. "You twat! She was sizing up the completion! 'Oh Rae how lovely to meet you, Finn talks soo much about you'" I spoke with a girly accent. It wasn't my finest work, but at least I got my point across. "And what's with all this cheesy nickname shit. Bug? Really Finn! When you guys chose pet names, were you laying in bed cuddling too?" "Hold up Arch! Remember Rae left me! Not the other way around. She has to use to me datin' other girls-" "Woman" I interrupted. "Girls-women whateva! I had to deal with it, so does she." I shook my head at the stupid boy I decided to call my best friend. "Do you not listen to the stories that get spread around school" I asked honestly. After socialising in the same circle as Macca and Simmy for a few weeks, I had grown a custom to the foul things they talked about involving the other students. And to my regret, Rae had been a topic well and truly covered. "What are you talking about? You know I can't stand college" Finn stressed running a hand through his hair. I caught him look in the direction Rae headed, but unfortunately her figure had disappeared by now. "After your little disabled toilets stun, you two became quite famous. I'm surprised you didn't hear about your little escapade floating in the wind." "You know nothin' happened. We talked, and I kissed her. And it shouldn't matter what happened in there anyway! It's nobody else's business." Sighing, I thought of a different way to broach the subject. "Finn its a place full of teens, gossip is their only form of communication. We are a nasty breed of people, that will twist and turn the truth until it's a plausible story. It doesn't matter what really happened. All they know is you and Rae locked yourselves in the toilet, alone, together. They have an imagination. Everyone thinks you two had fucked." Finn scoffed acting like it was the stupidest thing he has ever heard. Then it clicked. The clogs in this brain meshed together in harmony, he finally got what I was trying to say. "What are they saying about Rae?" "Do you want the truth? Or would you like me to sugar coat it?" I asked honestly. It didn't matter how and what I said, I know Finn was going to be mad once he finds out. "Truth." "They are saying along the lines of... Rae is a fat minging bird that you felt sorry for so you decided to give her a sympathy fuck..." "And she's heard this?" I nodded. "What about you and the rest of the gang? Have you heard this?" I regretfully nodded again. "Why hasn't anyone told me this shit! Why haven't you done anything about it Archie!" I bowed my head in shame. Here I am berating Finn about what he's doing to Rae when I too was only hurting her as well. "I honestly thought you knew and shrugged off the silly rumour like you normally do, I mean when you heard about Rae and Liam you laughed. And I know I should of done something Finn. I'm just trying to fit in at the moment, and I fucked up! We all fucked up" I sighed. "So she believe what people where saying about her then? That's why she broke up with me? Not because she didn't want to be with me but because she doesn't think she's worthy of me." "I don't know Finn" I shrugged. "She had a mental break down not that long ago. Anything could be going through her mind right now." Finn patted his jacket pocket, checking for his wallet and what not before looking back at me with a sad smile attached to his face. "I have to go talk to her before she gets to the pigeon race." I snorted. "Really Finn?" "Look just tell the others I had to run off, I-ugh-I had toooo..." "Go to a pigeon race?" I laughed. "Yeah whatever. Just tell Olivia I'll call her tomorrow" he shouted the last part as he darted across the road. He ran down the road leading to Rae's house. I hoped I had done the right thing. "CALL ME!" I shouted, but Finn had already faded into the black. "Well what to do now?" I mumbled to myself staring at the pub doors. I didn't particular want to venture back into that domain, especially without Finn in tow. Eh. I think chop will be quite alright with the ladies tonight. I started walking towards my car. I think it was time for a peppermint tea. (And.. CUT!) But he never called me.. He never picked up the phone, his dad being away on a work trip didn't help. Even Linda didn't spill the beans, she just said she was out. So you see my glorious friends, here is my little story about how Uncle Archie either saved the day or got himself into a load of shit. Time will tell to establish the ending of this story. All I know for one, is it won't be ending with someone jumping on a train to Bristol. I'll shut that shit down quick smart. So until then I will bid you farwell- *Ringing* "Holy fuck" I mumbled wiping the drool sliding down my chin. The ringing continued to blare through the room as I picked my head up from the desk I fell asleep at. I rubbed my forehead and groaned before reaching over my lamp to grab the phone. "Ello?" I croaked, sleep still evident in my voice. "Archie?" I bolted up right as soon as I heard Finn's voice, which caused me to fall backwards off the chair. I laid there a few seconds before dragging the receiver to my ear and taking the base with it causing it to land on my leg. Fuck. "Yeah?" "Did you just- never mind. What's going on?" "What's going on? WHAT'S GOING ON? Three fucking days Finn! No contact from you, nothing" I sat up straight. "What happened?" "Uh well I broke up with Olivia" Finn said warily. I snorted. "Don't give a toss about that! What happened with Rae did you find her?" "Yeah I found her." "And?" I stressed. I'd start going grey soon if Finn kept talking in riddles. "Here I am stressing. Having waky ass dreams about me narrating a story about you two and all your giving me is a short answer. I need information Finn Nelson!" "Are you alright Arch? You seem a bit strange this evening" Finn had the audacity to laugh. "Finn!" "Ohkay. Ohkay. We talk, no details. And we sorted stuff out. Starting fresh. We're going to try again." I smiled. Whatever Finn said actually worked. Honestly I thought the twat would fumble over his words, but he actually did it. I was like a proud father. "Ohkay that's good" I played it cool but inside I was jumping up and down like a school girl. "Are you Bellends coming to the pub anytime soon to socialise? Or are you two not quite ready to come out of your bubble?" "Nah we'll see ya tonight. Catch." "See you then." The line went dead and I sagged back onto the ground. Oh it was glorious being Uncle Archie. Being wise beyond my years, with a dramatic group of friends that helped expand my growing ego. I could sell my story and become a millionaire one day.

*dramatized exit*

@lily-pop-2 @eveerez @i-dream-of-emus @hey1tskat1e @arathewallflower @mmfdfanfic @luly310 @l88cym @tinakegg @milllott @milymargot @lurkernolonger

#mmfdfanfic #ilovemmfd #my mad fat diary #my mad fat fandom #my mad fat diary fic #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #archie

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mariequitecontrarie · 8 years ago

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Drabble #32, Rumbelle. ;)

Never AloneSummary: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”Rating: GA/N: Dark castle fluff for @bookwormchocaholic. I can’t seem to keep these to a “drabble” to save my life. Hope you enjoy my long-winded version.

ON AO3

“Tongue of lizard, heart of bluebird, foot of Belle…”Rumplestiltskin stopped short, his tongue tripping over the incantation and ruiningthe potion in the process.

“Hellfire and damnation!” Dismayed, he watched a boilingmass of greenish-grey goo spill over the edge of the cauldron and ooze throughhis fingers.

A simple chant cleaned up the mess, but the Hatter waswaiting for this potion and he still had to begin again. It was all her fault.

Rumplestiltskin flexed his stiff fingers. Belle’s disquiet overthe past several hours had paralyzed his body and brain. The sound of herpacing outside the barricaded door was an ominous drumbeat in his heart, herlow, square heels echoing on the stones. Even his old limp from the first ogre’swar, long since repaired by magic, throbbed in time to her labored sighs.

Aye, she had finally made up her mind to leave him. A dealwas a deal, and she had sworn forever, but he could no longer bear to keep herhere against her will. It was long past time to grant her freedom, send her offto see the world. As for him, he’d lived nigh two hundred years in abjectmisery, so what was a few millennia more?

“Belle!” he bellowed, releasing the wards on the laboratory.“Get it in here!”

“Yes, Rumplestiltskin?” Frowning, she slipped through theopen door. “I would have come in sooner, but the door has been locked all day.”

He treated her to a black scowl. It was the third time he’d botchedthe spell due to his carelessness, and he was down to his last bit of smokedeel roe. Dark circles wreathed Belle’s eyes and he almost dropped what remained.“What are you moping about?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks were wan and slightly sunken.

He snorted at the obvious lie, but his heart hiccupped,sharp and painful . Was she unwell?He steeled himself against a flood of concern. If she was, it was no longer hisaffair. Still, she was the lone ray of sunshine in his empty world. He wouldmiss her more than he could possibly say.

“If you truly want to know…” she began.

He shook a finger in her direction. “Hurry up then!”

“Because you did ask….”

“Aye, I did,” he snapped when she trailed off again, “and I’velived another two centuries waiting for you to answer.”

“Rumplestiltskin, would you please stop interrupting?” Annoise of exasperation slipped through her lips, and she stomped her small foot.

Ordinarily, her sass amused him, but this evening he wassnappish and wary. He scanned the skyline, wondering if she would leave tonightor at least wait until morning. Perhaps she had already packed her belongings.

“As you wish.” He winced, waiting for the killing blow.

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” She blewout a noisy breath at the hurried confession, sending wisps of hair flyingabout her face.

What?

Baffled, he stared at her flushed cheeks. Of all the wordshe had expected her to say, these were the very last. “Are you speaking fae,maid?”

Her brow furrowed, considering. “I don’t think so.”

He leaned forward to sniff her sweet breath, fighting theneed to close his eyes. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Only water and sweetened tea.” Her smile was tentative, andgrowing wider by the moment.

“You’ve ingested something foul,” he insisted. “A bite ofbad beef; a moldy pastry.”

“No.” She twisted her fingers together, still hovering inthe doorway. “I’ve been too nervous to eat.”

“Ah. Well.” He cast about for an explanation. “This, uh, feelingyou say you have…for how long have you been imagining it?”

“It’s not my imagination.” She stepped closer, laying softfingers on his hand. “And a while.”

“Hmmmph.” He shook his sleeve out of her grasp. “You don’tlook terrified.”

“Of you? Never.” She shook her head hard enough to make herauburn curls bounce.

“Then why did you say you were?”

He followed her sightline to a small family of mice dartingin and out of a hole in the tower wall. In the fading sunlight, their tinybodies cast ominous shapes across the stones. Finally she spoke. “I amfrightened, in a manner of speaking.”

“Ha!” He affected a triumphant pose. “I knew it.”

“Yes.” She leaned against his worktable and tugged on her workapron. “I’m afraid that you’ll laugh at me.”

Her lustrous blue eyes tugged at his heart, creating a dullache beneath his breastbone. “I should laugh,” he said hoarsely. “These womanlyfeelings you have for a monster are foolish indeed.”

“You certainly know how to ease the torment of an admissionof love, don’t you?” she asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of hermouth.

He carefully searched her face and tone for irony, butdarkness shadowed her skin now that the sun had disappeared beneath thehorizon. With a wave of his hand, he lit a dozen candelabras, bathing the room insoft light.

“Fine,” he huffed, deciding to humor her innocence.“Assuming you’re not concussed, what makes you think you love the Dark One?”

“I don’t love the Dark One. I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Same difference, dearie.”

“No, it’s not.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Andplease don’t talk to me that way.”

“What way?” He mimicked her voice in a high trill.

“As though I am a stranger you must posture for,” she scolded,a thread of humor in her tone. “Names have power and you know mine, so use it.”

A bittersweet craving washed through him. Belle. Darling, cheeky, wonderful Belle. “What can you know of love?”

“Well, I know I’m happy when you’re here, and sad whenyou’re away. I know I feel more at ease and at home here than I ever did at myfather’s estate. And,” she stammered, drawing her appreciative gaze down thelength of his body, “I know-I like to look at you in those tight leathersyou’re so fond of.”

“Ahem.” His cheeks grew hot, a mingling of embarrassment anda craving for something so long buried he barely recognized it. Sensible peoplerecoiled from his appearance, but not Belle. She had to be the only sentientbeing in the Enchanted Forest who admired him for anything more than what shecould gain from his power.

She shrugged. “It’s true. Besides, you wouldn’t wear suchform-hugging trousers if you didn’t want anyone to admire the view.”

“And if I laugh at your declaration, what then?” He lifted apotion, examining the sapphire liquid in the flickering candlelight. “Would youreconsider your foolishness?”

“My heart would be carved into slivers,” she whispered.

He nearly dropped the vial, undone by the nakedvulnerability in her gaze. As if such a shining and lovely innocent wouldsuffer any loss by being removed from his presence!

“People will say I bewitched you,” he warned. In this land,for a young woman to ignore her reputation was to her greatest peril. He baredhis teeth in a feral snarl. “Doesn’t that terrifyyou?” he asked, tossing her words back.

Her sniff was disdainful. “I care nothing about rumors andidle gossip.”

“Indeed?” His protests were weakening, the citadel aroundhis heart crumbling. He shelved the potion, then shuffled backwards until hiscalves bumped the chaise lounge. At a loss for words, he sank down on thecushion.

Belle sidled closer, stepping between his spread thighs. “Doyou know what does terrify me?”

Breathless, he shook his head as her gaze bored into his. Shebent down to caress his cheek, palming his jaw. “That you won’t love me inreturn.”

His eyes drifted closed and before he knew what washappening, her slight weight was resting in his lap. She settled her bottom on hislegs and twined her arms about his neck. She was soft and sweet, her light honeysucklefragrance enveloping him in safety and warmth.

“Belle, I—”

“Why did you lock the door on me?” she murmured. “Your teahas gone cold three times.”

Embarrassed by his childishness, he looked toward thewindows. “I’d convinced myself I didn’t want to hear anything you had to say.”

“And now?” She scooted up his thighs to nuzzle his neck,making his skin prickle.

He snorted, clinging to the dregs of his stubbornness. “Ifyou wanted to come inside so badly, why didn’t you knock?”

Her eyes danced with amusement. “You were hollering soloudly, you didn’t hear me call. My fists hurt from pounding on the door.” Shepresented her knuckles, which were mottled by black and blue marks.

“Oh.” Unthinking, he pressed her fingers to his mouth. Apurple sheen coated her skin as he healed the bruises and scrapes with hislips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then lay her head against hischest. His arms hung stiffly at his sides and she clasped first one wrist, thenthe other to draw his arms around her, arranging his limbs like a mannequin.“What did you think I was going to say?” she asked.

He splayed his fingers over her back, and closed his eyes.The relief of being hidden from her shrewd gaze made him bold. “I believed youwould request your freedom. It’s what you deserve, and despite our deal, Iwould never prevent you from forging your own destiny.”

The slender arms around his neck tightened. “If I went away,we would both be lonely.”

He laughed, low and mirthless. “You? No. Belle, you haveyour family, your friends, and your fiancé. And what of your plans to see theworld?”

“Can’t I see the world with you?”

“Why would you want that?” he asked dully, his palms stillstroking her back. “What can I possibly offer you?”

“Belonging.” She eased back on his thighs, her expressionthoughtful. “Have you never been in a place filled with people yet felt utterlyalone? All my life I’ve been surrounded by others—parents, servants, peers. Butthey didn’t know the real me…this odd, bookish girl…and so the ache ofloneliness remained. Here with you, for the first time someone understands andloves me for me, not because I fulfill some expectation by learning to run anestate or marrying a certain man.”

With a small groan, he pressed her close once more, anembrace of solidarity. For as long as he could remember, he’d believed he wasthe only person who felt alone in a crowd.

She lifted her face to his, a hint of fear flecking heririses. “You do love me, don’t you?”

“Aye.” He buried his nose in her tumble of curls, inhalingher essence. He loved her mind, her body, the way she thought, the things shesaid. He loved her so much it was a physical ache, a rawness in his spirit thatwould be satisfied with nothing but her.

“Rumple, I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Oh Belle,” he choked. Before his disbelieving eyes, she wasgathering up the pieces of a dream he’d thought was shattered. “Is this reallywhat you want?”

“Yes.”

Yes. There was aneternity of promise in that one small word. She needed him, just as he did her,and his heart exploded with a joy he hadn’t known since the birth of his son. Hecupped her cheeks with his hands, massaging her pulse point with his thumbs ashe lowered his mouth to hers, so close that only their mingled breaths laybetween them.

“Then I will never leave you alone again.”

###

Send me a pairing and I’ll write you a drabble

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumplestiltskin #belle french #dark castle rumbelle #mqc writes #marie doesn't know how to drabble #bookwormchocaholic

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kyubicled · 6 years ago

Link

Sample...

A comfortable chair by a warm fire, a snifter of brandy, and the financial section of the evening newspaper, and there was no reason for Tom to worry. His investments were all doing great. It seemed like anything he touched turned to gold, like magic, no, not magic, don’t think about magic. The cold outside was no matter to him, here in his warm house. The wind did not sound like an enraged woman screaming. It really didn’t. It was just wind. Everything was fine. Tom was home again. He could relax. It might take a bit more brandy. He poured himself some more.

He spilled some on the table when the doorbell rang. They weren’t expecting anyone, and who would be out on a night like this? He was tempted to tell Fiona not to answer it, but no, that would be cowardly.

Fiona entered the study and made a perfunctory curtsy. “Are you at home, Mr. Riddle?”

“No,” he decided. “If it’s a beggar, he may shelter from the storm in the shed. Give him some food and send him on his way in the morning.”

“Yes sir.”

She left, and didn’t come back for some time, so that should have been that. He wiped up the spilled brandy. However, she reappeared in his study eventually, looking quite miffed. He put his newspaper down.

“She won’t go away, sir,” Fiona reported. “She says she’ll wait on the front steps until you come home.”

He felt a jolt of panic. “She? It’s not—“

“No sir,” she assured him. “Most assuredly not her. It’s a… woman. I don’t know who she is. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“A woman, not a lady?” Tom inquired.

“She hasn’t got any gloves on,” Fiona said disapprovingly. “I could see her hands just fine, and she has no wedding ring at all. And she’s got a little baby with her.”

Tom jumped from his chair. “A baby, out in this weather? Why didn’t you say so in the first place? We can’t just leave them on the steps.”

“She refused to go to the shed,” complained Fiona, but her employer was rushing past her to the door. “People will talk, they’ll wonder why you’re entertaining a young woman with a baby. They’ll wonder whose baby it is, won’t they?”

“We’re the only people who know they’re here, and I certainly won’t spread rumors about myself, so if they do spread, I’ll know their origin,” Tom said with a pointed look at his maid. “Not that it really matters, I suppose,” he reconsidered. “There’s no shortage of gossip about me already, so more wouldn't make things worse. If you wanted to work for a reputable family, you wouldn’t be working for the Riddles.”

They had reached the door. He opened it, and indeed, there was a woman who, most importantly, was not Merope. This woman was taller, which wasn’t saying much. Her face was more face-shaped, and both her eyes looked in the same direction. A lump under her cloak was emitting a faint cry. That was really all he needed to know. “Come in madam, please. I’m sorry to keep you waiting in the cold.”

She started when she saw him, and made no move to enter. “Mr. Riddle?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes, we can do introductions inside where it’s warm,” he said. He didn’t want to keep the door open a moment longer than necessary.

She stepped in with surprising hesitancy for someone who’d come through a storm to get here, and he could finally close the door on the wailing wind. She allowed Fiona to take her wet cloak. His visitor was, indeed, a woman he’d never seen before in his life, so not a resident of Little Hangleton. Her clothes didn’t fit right, hanging loosely on her very thin frame. She was quite young. Her dark hair was not bobbed in the modern fashion, but whirled in long, wild curls, where it wasn’t plastered to her face with melting snow. Her cheeks and lips were flushed bright pink, and her dark eyes were wide and bright as they looked around at Riddle House, which was rather nicely furnished if he thought so himself, and still decorated for Christmas.

She was, indeed, carrying a baby, now quiet, in a sling. The baby’s cheeks were pink as well, and blue-black eyes met Tom’s with an eerie intelligence. Tom found himself unwittingly competing in, and quickly the loser of, a staring contest.

He looked back to the woman. “I have a fire lit in the study. This way.” She followed, with Fiona tailing them suspiciously. “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“Tea would be wonderful, thank you,” she said, so he sent Fiona off with a look. She stomped sullenly to the kitchen. He couldn’t blame her for trying to protect him from mysterious women, after the last one. But still, the civilities must be observed.

“Please have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair closest to the fire, so she did.

“Thank you.”

He sat near her. “Now we may do introductions.”

“My name is Hermione Granger,” she said. “I’ve just come from London. I brought some news which I think will interest you.” From what must have been a very large inner pocket of her jacket, she drew a folder. She opened it, handed him the paper on top, and closed the folder again.

#harry potter #fanfiction #hermione granger #time travel #fanfic #alternate universe #tom riddle #parenting tom riddle

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jasmine-jules · 8 years ago

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Slave to the Game(A Jack the Ripper Story): Chapter 2

Word Count: 4600+Warnings:

Graphic depiction of violence(the murder), Murder, Mild language

A/N: Hey guys! Again if you are reading this I have to thank you immensely. This chapter got away from us a bit, so sorry for the length. I mean how could Jack the Ripper not inspire us to write more than 1000 words chapters. Here’s our master list for the next chapters, and if you want more!!

~~~~~~~

The next five days passed with nothing of interest. I did a few autopsies of course, but only on the dull cases from the hospitals, all causes of deaths being natural ones. Not that I love having more intricate deaths from murders or some other reason, but they do make it more fun.~~~

September 7th, 1888

“There’s only one of them. Why is there only one of them!” I exclaimed, staring at the jar that used to hold a pair of eyeballs.

“You said to throw that one away.” Archer accused.

“Why would you only throw one of them of away? Eyes are pairs. They are supposed to be paired with the other. What would be the purpose of only discarding one.” I justified.

“I only do what you say to do. You are basically my boss.” he said.

“But we don’t have a boss. Neither of us are a boss to the other.” I glared at him. He smirked as I stalked around to throw the one remaining eyeball away. He tried to grab my elbow as I passed him, but I pulled away, “Don’t touch me. I’m mad at you.”

We worked in silence for a bit. I scanned the shelves filled with specimens that we’ve collected over the years. I removed the jars that had old, slightly rotting specimens and handed them to Archer, who proceeded to inspect them. He threw them away or handed them back to me in order to put them back in order. Oldest in the front, placed in alphabetical order.

“Some of this conversation is making me think a little about our working situation,” he pondered aloud, “Why don’t we have someone older than twenty-five here to keep us in line. Neither of us are technically old enough to run a mortuary by ourselves. We work with dead bodies, for heaven’s sake.”

“My father.” I said simply, “He’s the reason I got into this line of work in the first place. He died when I was 17. He had this brain disease where he’d have these periodical blackouts. Like he would wake up in his room, but never remember going to bed. Or he’d be eating supper but he wouldn’t remember making it. He was always fully mobile but he just… couldn’t remember it. He was also a mortician. He always loved the complexity of the machine that is the human body. The way that the throat connected to the stomach. And how the stomach decides to either send the food and nutrients to the body or dispose of the waste. He would come home from work everyday, and have this-” I paused, thinking back to the times he was alive, “look in his eyes. He’d tell us about certain cases he’d come across. I was always the first to sit down at his feet while he was talking and just listen. Enraptured by the way he would talk. When he died I was already apprenticing under him, so I ended up taking over the morgue. Of course, I was only 18 so a need for a partner arose. But I never accepted a boss because no one could replace my father…”

A silence fell across the room as I finished. Archer, too surprised by my sudden revelation to talk about my past, stayed silent. I finished placing the few jars that I had left back onto the shelf, a soft smile on my lips as I thought about the way he glowed when I expressed my interest in becoming a mortician.

“Feel free to leave when ever you would like. I may keep on organizing, either our experiments or…” I trailed off, my voice soft with emotion. I felt his eyes on my back even though my back was to him.

“I’ll stay. I can work on some notes about… something,” he decided. I felt his sympathy cloud the room. It’s improper to leave a woman alone with her emotion, I remembered my mother saying from one her of lessons on etiquette.

Hours passed and the room lowly began to darken as the sun went below the horizon. A shadow fell across my notepad and Archer’s voice filled the room,

“I should get you home.” He lightly touched my elbow and guided me to stand. I stretched slightly as my legs were stiff from sitting still so long.

“I can get home by myself,” I said, rebellion lining my voice. He gave me an exasperated stare, and I held his gaze without falter. As our staring contest progressed, I felt my resolve failing and I let out a sigh. “You don’t get to walk me to the door.” I conceded, and a grin spread across his face.

“I already ordered a coach, it should be here soon.” he stated as we walked to the door together. As we passed by a table, I saw an idea come to his mind. “Here,” he said, reaching down to grab one of the small flowers, “I got this from one of my favorite flower shop, the florist said that the smell helps with memory.” Interest spread through me and I took it from his hand. I bent my neck to take a deep breath of the long white flower.

“I like it,” I commented as he led me to the coach.

I awoke with a start the next morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this unrested after waking up before. As I sat up, a feeling of apprehension settled in my gut. Quickly, I jumped out of bed to make myself at least a bit presentable before going down the stairs to the foyer. I was about to round the sharp corner of dark wood when I felt a hand settle on my shoulder. I turned around sharply, startled, and let out a breathe of relief when I saw it was just my mother.

“Sweetheart!” My mother, Rebecca, cried out at my sudden movement. “What is the matter?” her voice soft with worry.

“Sorry,” I apologized shortly, “I just… I have this horrible feeling right now. Do you know of any incidents that occurred last night?”

“I don’t. We haven’t gotten the morning post quite yet.”

“Oh,” I muttered, turning around to head to the parlor. I felt her eyes on my back as I disappeared down the hall. I shook my hands trying to rid myself of the growing pit of dread in my stomach as I entered.

“Would you like me to draw up some tea Miss Bellaus?” a maid asked as I went through the door. I bit my lip as I decided before shaking my head,

“I’ll just have tea with my breakfast later.” I replied to her. The maid gave a small bow as she turned away. “Wait!” She turned around, “Have any of the other maids been gossiping this morning?” I asked and she looked startled, “I just have the worst feeling something happened last night and I cannot shake it no matter how hard I try.”

She opened her mouth with some hesitation, “One of the maids came in today distraught because there was a bod-” She cut off, “-someone found last night. Said it was someone she knew because the victim had worked here at one point. Also said that it wasn’t - pretty.” I went pale, “Are you sure you don’t want me to make some tea? You look rather sickly.” I shook my head and went as fast as I could to my room where I put on a dress, put a little makeup on before making my way to the front door.

“Would you like me to call a carriage?” the maid asked, as if sensing my urgency.

“Yes please.” I responded, putting on my cape. The carriage showed up after a few minutes of waiting and I gave the coachman the address and climbed in. The drive over took agonizingly long and I was nearly at a sprint as I hurried into the morgue once the carriage came to a stop. As I came to the door, it swung open revealing Archer who looked ready to drive off somehwere as well.

“Miss Bellaus! I was just on my way to fetch you.”

“I got one of my maids to spill the morning gossip.” I said, brushing past him not wanting to wait a second longer.

“The body isn’t here yet.” he said.

“Well then where is it?” I snapped,

“Still at the scene of the crime. I was going to get you before heading over. Guess you saved me a trip.” He went over to the carriage and stepped inside. He held out a hand to help me up, and I took it as I followed him,

“What do you know?” I asked.

“The police sent a telegram with very vague details. Just that a body had been found at 29 Hanbury Street and that they requested my presence.” No other words were said after that, the carriage being silent save for the sound of horse hooves on the stone.

“Let me do the talking.” he told me. I glared at his back as we exited the carriage, but I knew he had good reasoning for saying so. Who would take a young girl asking about a body seriously. I would be dragged off to Bedlam before I could even introduce myself. “Archer Clay. You had requested my presence?” he said, showing them an identification card.

“Who’s she?” the policeman responded briskly, jerking his head in my direction.

“A student.” Archer said. I would’ve hate to be on the receiving end of that tone. I watched the conversation proceed from there before letting my eyes wander around the building we were at. The dark brick of the house blended in with the mud covered street. This was definitely not a place a woman would likely live unless the situation were dire. I let my subconscious take over and I soon found myself following the trail of policemen towards room 29.

“Dinah, wait!” Archer shouted after me, noticing that I was no longer beside him. He was a moment too late as I had already opened the door to the scene. I stepped inside and for the first time the stench of death affected me beyond a small feeling of repulsion. My hands had been fiddling with the clasp of my cape and as my eyes took in the sight of the room, it hit the ground instantly soaking up blood. A string of curses escaped my lips before I could stop it and I slammed my eyes shut. I heard Archer come up behind me and his hand rested on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this one if you don’t want.” I shook my head and opened my eyes. Bile rose in my throat and it took everything in me not turn and run away. She was lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat had been slashed from left to right, her swollen tongue slightly protruding from her mouth. Her once beautiful face was swollen as well. Her abdomen had been torn open resulting in a jagged wound, the organs that should have rested there were thrown over her left shoulder. Her left arm rested over her chest and her legs had been drawn up, her knees rested outwards.

“She was asphyxiated before her throat slashed.” I spoke, my voice thin. I stepped around the puddles of blood, “The attacker would’ve cut her throat once she was laying down.” I inspected the cavity that use to be the stomach. “At first glance most of her reproductive organs are missing from the scene since I don’t see them with the other organs. Again, the attacker would have knowledge of the anatomy and be an expert.” I continued on with thoughts of the murder which I knew Archer would be taking note of. I vaguely heard Archer give a report to the head policemen that was there. I ended up staring at the blood that puddled around the woman. Again, I saw a slight similarity between her and Jessamine. She had Jessamine’s golden brown hair and high cheekbones. I edged closer to the body, carefully watching where I put my feet so that another pair of my slippers didn’t get all bloodied up. I noticed a handkerchief, previously tied around her neck, slashed up and torn lying next to her also slashed throat. I felt another wave of nausea wash over and I quickly stepped back.

“Get her body bagged up and taken to the morgue immediately. We need to start a closer inspection of the body.” I order hurriedly. My feet took me to the doorway in long strides. I needed to get out of there. The fresh stench of blood was starting to cloud my judgement. I reached the railing that lined the door step and fell heavily against it. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the cold, metal rail tighter, trying to get control of the heavy breaths that wracked my body. Why are all the victims of similar look to Jessamine. I thought back to one of the pieces of advice my father had given me before his passing.

“Once is an incident. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern.”

“What’s four?”

“A serial killer.” I blanched at the thought. What if I did have a serial killer on my hands. I knew from research that those people always started with people they know, then they move on to people similar to them. Stop, I told myself. So far only two women have been killed that have similar cases. Similar features and almost exact wounds, only one more extreme than the other. The more I thought about it, I came to the idea that the killer had gotten interrupted the first time. The first girl, Mary Ann, had the exact same wounds as this girl does only she’s not missing any organs. My intent of calming my breathing failed, and I only became more panicked. I felt my chest constrict making my breathes only more painful. What if this happened again. Hurried footsteps sounded behind me and I felt a hand lay on my shoulder,

“Dinah are you okay?” Archer’s familiar voice brought me back from my panic and my breathing was regular again. I nodded sharply and he slipped his hand off my shoulder.

“I think we have a serial killer. I know we only have two victims right now, it’s just they are too similar to pass up as coincidences.” I brought my eyes up from the cloudy horizon line and looked searchingly in his eyes. “There are three things that are similar so far.” Archer nodded,

“I noticed, similar features and similar wounds. But what is the third thing?” he inquired.

“It’s not just that they both look alike, they both look like-” Even though I had thought this thought multiple times I struggled to get the name out, “-Jessamine.”

“Oh my-” he cut short and ran a hand over his mouth then the rest of face. He looked over the railing, both hands pulling at his hair. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice drawn tight. I nodded in a reply. He put his hand on my shoulder and led me away from prying ears, “Do you think someone is somehow attacking you through these? Like taunting you?”

I felt the blood drain out of my face. I hadn’t thought of that but looking at it from his words I could see what he would mean. The killer would have to have known that I’d be the one doing the autopsies on the bodies. The morgue is one of the only ones connected with the police stations. The only question is why he would be trying to get at me.

“What if the killer knows.” The words escaped my lips before I could stop it, and Archer looked confused at my outburst only for a second. “What if he’s killing people who looks like Jessamine to get at me because he knows.“ Everything went blurry for a second as I felt tears gather in my eyes. Jessamine could be one of the targets. If his plan is to somehow get back at me and Jessamine, what if one of the last targets he kills was Jessamine. My knees buckled and I staggered against the wall.

“Let’s get you home, all right? I can send a wire asking for Miss Welborn to make sure she is okay. Okay?” The walk back to the carriage, the entire ride back, and Archer sending the message all passed in a blur. Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

“Dinah. Dinah.” I came out of my thoughts to him shaking my shoulders and I focused on Archer’s face, “Jessamine is okay.” Relief flooded through me. “I didn’t tell her why I was needing to speak to her just that you wanted to hear her voice.”

“She’s okay.” The wall that had been keeping my emotions in, shattered. I felt Archer’s arm wrap around me a comforting hug. “She’s okay.”

“Dinah Fae Bellaus. That is not appropriate.” My mother exclaimed. Archer pulled away so fast I thought he would fall over for a second.

“Mrs. Bellaus. I- We-” he stumbled over his words for an explanation. I jumped in,

“Mom, he isn’t trying to impose on my purity. He was just - It was a hard day.” My mom’s features softened,

“All right. Don’t let me find you in that position again.” she responded sharply before turning away. I lasted about five seconds before laughter escaped my lips at the ridiculousness of the moment, turning the mood in the room from somber to amused. Only a second later Archer joined in with my laughter.

“That’s one way to change the mood.” Archer told me in between laughter. “In all seriousness, will you be okay?” I nodded in agreement, “I am going to go to the morgue and finish up on recording what we found and then send a wire to the police. I need to mention that we think that the two murders are connected by the same killer who is targeting you through girls who looks like Jessamine, but I won’t mention why he is targeting you.”

“Thank you Clay.” I murmured. One corner of his lips turned upwards in a small smile,

“Anything for my favorite Bellaus.” He stood up and as he made his way to the door I called out to his back,

“I’m the only Bellaus that you’d be friends with!” He turned his head and winked at me before slipping out the door. I smiled to myself as I picked up my skirts and wandered over to the kitchen.

Now that I had already gone to work I technically wouldn’t have to visit the morgue today, but the stress over the fact that Archer and I had a serial killer on our hands filled me with worry; what else would there be to do? I had already gone over her body, with Archer taking notes and he would finish up any last comments on the body. He would send a report to the police station for them to review. I couldn’t get something out of my mind and I didn’t know what it was. It was like an aftertaste from a food that you didn’t quite know why it was there or what it was, but it obviously existed because you could taste it. Maybe I should go back to the morgue to see if I missed anything. The metaphorical aftertaste worsened as the thought I should go when Archer is gone went through my head. Why on earth would I hide from. He’s my closer advisor, I couldn’t dream of living without him. What would I even find if I went there?

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. A fresh tray of pastries lay steaming on the counter. As I bit into it the warm jelly filled my mouth and I hummed with delight. A lone piece of bacon was leftover on a platter from breakfast and I mindlessly nibbled on it as I paced the kitchen.

“Miss Bellaus, would you like me to prepare you a proper breakfast?” One of the maids asked as she entered the kitchen. I smiled kindly at her,

“I’m fine. These are very delicious pastries you made.” I told her and she blushed at my compliment.

“Thank you ma’am.” she replied, looking down at her hands before continuing, “If you don’t mind me asking, why weren’t you at breakfast this morning? Your mother seemed to be fine but I couldn’t help noticing your absence.”

“I had a bit of work to do. It was an urgent matter at the morgue. Thank you for asking, Helen.”

“I see ma’am.” she replied to my comment and slight smile appearing on her lip. She dipped her head slightly before heading over to the counter to start what looked like another batch of pastries. I set myself down on a stool that was in the corner of the kitchen and watched her work, her fingers and hands moving nimbly along the fresh dough.

“Do you wish you could do something else?” I commented. I saw her back muscles stiffen and I hurried to explain myself, “You just seem so experienced with making-” I gestured to the pan of unbaked pastries, “I just couldn’t help wondering if you ever had dreams of getting out of this raggedy house and doing something else.” Helen’s fingers began to slowly start moving along the dough once more,

“Not to offend, but yes. When I was younger, before my mother died of influenza, she would bring me to the kitchen where we would spend hours baking. I learned all I know from her. I still get to bake here of course, but it is quite different than baking in your own place.” I hummed in agreement before taking my skirts in my hands to leave the kitchen.

~~~~~~~

I made my way through the cold, steel walls of the mortuary, my footsteps echoing along the walls as I stepped down the stairs into the cold room. I had no idea what I expected when I stepped through, but I felt that this was not it. The stonewalls were exactly the same as when I left them the evening before, the jars that lined the edge still reflecting light, the drawers all locked shut. The only difference was that the woman’s body now lay on the cold steel table beneath a light blue sheet. As my footfalls neared the table, my eyes wandered to the tag that identified her. Annie Chapman, aged 47.

Every time I approach a new body my stomach twists with emotion, one that I can never quite seem to identify. My eyes will always scan the outline of the body to get a clear picture: seeking for signs of struggle on the face. I would always examine the feet for the different signs of social class. Peasants, Lower Class, and prostitutes had grubbier, dirtier feet with clear lines of dust of where the stitching of the shoe fell away. Those who were upper class or richer had clean feet, very little dust or dirt lining the ankle.

This time though, I had to examine the body very little for I already knew what lay beneath the blanket. The mutilation of a body that used to be a beautiful women. I swiftly did my pre-autopsy preparation before sliding the sheet down off the body. A wave of nausea washed over me once again as I took the wounds in, now cleaned of blood or grit. I grabbed the notebook that lay on the table of tools, and flipped through it as I scanned the notes that Archer had put down. It was virtually word for word for what I had said to him that morning until I reached the portion that held his own, more in depth report. It was as I had expected, almost all reproductive organs missing from the scene, all organs in the abdomen had been cut out with a degree of precision that even I couldn’t reach even if I had been concentrating, certainly not in the small amount of time. Doubt began to itch at me as I continued to read down the page. In a rush, I grabbed the flea glass, a small microscope, to examine the stomach wounds.

There was something missing. There had to be. I wouldn’t feel this kind of doubt about a report if there wasn’t. My hand began to shake and I had to take a few calming breaths before I could continue. A memory flashed in my mind. a phrase I had said, merely a few words that my lips had muttered earlier that day at the crime scene. I had seen a piece of fabric that didn’t belong. Fabric that wasn’t found anywhere at at the apartment. I picked up the notebook, not caring that I got a various amounts of body juices on it, and scanned through. A scribbled out word stood glaringly out to me, and as I squinted to try to get a better look the beginning of the word fabric appeared. It had been almost unreadable underneath the layer of ink that now covered it. Why would he scribble it out. That would be an important fact that could help the police with their investigation. It had to be a small mistake, he realized he was going to spell it wrong and scribbled out and just forgot to rewrite the phrase. When I’m giving him a report, my words do fall out with no rhyme or reason o them.

Unless it was on purpose. I shook my head to try and rid myself of the thought. He might’ve found it when he was doing the later on report and put it in a jar I reasoned. My eyes skimmed the shelf of jars, hoping, praying, that a small piece of fabric would stand out to me. Nothing prevailed. I felt myself falling apart bit by bit as I frantically searched through the scraps of loose paper on the table, then going through the small trash can next to it.

There has to be something here. Please let me find somethingA small mistake. That’s all it was. A mishap. A simple mistake. Brushing it off the table by mistake as he was putting things away. That had to be all it was.

I fell to my knees and my fingers brushed along the cracks of the floor and felt under the table, desperate to feel a piece of fabric. What if it was nothing more than a fabrication that I had thought that earlier? And there was no fabric? I shook my head at the thought, there was evidence he had started to write it down but had scribbled it out. There was nothing underneath the table. I then went to the body, scanning every inch of it.

Nothing.

Nothing

Why would he hide it? Why would it be so important that he would scribble it out? Unless it was so unimportant that he thought I wouldn’t notice that small detail? That it was so small, so insignificant there was no way I could remember seeing it?

Doubt crept in. Maybe I’m misinterpreting this. A giant misunderstand, lack of communication. He might’ve not seen it.

But it was something I told him this morning to write down. He never missed a detail. He used shorthand, enabling him to write down phrases and sentences to keep up with the pace I set. Horror crept in, replacing the doubt like a fire that ravaged the London buildings. I could only think of one reason he would not write it down, leave it out. Destroying any evidence that the thought ever existed. That the piece of fabric had ever existed.

He was protecting someone.

#writing #my writing #A Slave to the Game #Jack the Ripper #chapter 2

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