#waste time stabbing all her would-be assassins HERSELF? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alstroemeriadissonance · 2 years

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Killshot (Part 2 - NSFW)

Part 1 here

Assassin hijinks AU where the Duke is hunted by an inept, yet persistent assassin named Rosa

Both Vyn and Rosa are extra unhinged to the point of being OOC.

This bears the tag of Rape/Non-Con in AO3 cross-post. Please do not read if this type of content upsets you. You may want to check here for the complete tag list

Last night, the Duke’s study

The moment her open palm hit the Duke squarely on his cheek Rosa knew that she would most probably never leave this manor, not alive anyway; but she did not care—all she wanted to do at that very moment was to kick the smug grin off his face; but his close proximity and the fact that she was still seated on the chair didn’t allow her much room for movement, much less righteous violence.

Yet instead of the seething indignation she expected from the obviously proud aristocrat there was only a wry, knowing grin on his lips.

He stood there, looking at her with a vaguely amused stare, as he rubbed his cheek.

No words came from him, but in Rosa’s TV-sitcom trained mind he might as well have said something like “you impudent wench”.

However, what he actually said was something that she did not expect:

“There will be hot food waiting for you here, every six in the evening,” he said, hand still holding his stricken cheek.

Shame, looks like I didn’t hit him enough to draw blood, came her thought, before his words finally sunk in.

Wait…what…?

“Do not waste my good graces, little girl,” the Duke continued. “Especially since the food will be prepared by my hands.” He dropped his smile. “There are no staff here, for obvious reasons, and I would rather slit my throat than let someone inept have free rein over my kitchen.”

Not knowing how to respond to yet another snark he just threw at her, Rosa merely stood up from the chair, and started to make her way towards the door.

“And, in case you did not understand, my moppet, I just gave you a hint to help you along.” His voice was curt, yet edged with just a little bit of glee. “Do be mi—”

“Yes, I get it,” Rosa cut in, scathingly, as she reached for the gilded doorknob. “This stupid and inept little girl will drop by maybe around before six in the evening to stab you in the back while you’re cooking.”

With those words Rosa slipped out of the study and slammed the door closed behind her, leaving the Duke while she could still retain what little dignity and composure she had left.

Now…

Rosa looked around her.

Everything immediately outside the Duke’s study was dimmer by far. What greeted her the moment she exited the study was a shadowy corridor with scant lighting: Plush red carpeting lined the floor; warm light bulbs installed in bronze wall sconces cast strange, elongated shadows across the length of the passageway.

The fleur-de-lis patterned walls—which seemed to close in on her if she tried to look at them through her peripheral vision—were sparsely decorated with forgettable pieces of artwork that she would never pay any attention to, yet probably cost more than twice her lifetime.

They did tell her during the briefing that the manor was abandoned; but the stale air and the feel that everything seemed suspended in time only drove the palpable emptiness all too easily.

Rosa took a deep breath, steeling herself. Alright. Maybe if you think this is a game, everything will be easier.

Yeah, she tried to convince herself. He did say this is now a game.

He said there were weapons in each room, she recalled as she started to quietly traverse the corridor, her footsteps muffled by the luxurious thick carpet. If she wasn’t mulling about how to take the Master of the manor’s life she would have fully enjoyed how cozy the manor seemed; right now the opulence only felt stifling, suffocating.

Even more so with the threat of the Duke’s presence looming over her.

Not willing to be on the same floor as the Duke’s study—she supposed his bedroom would be nearby or adjacent to it—Rosa walked on for what seemed to be an eternity, until she reached the staircase at the end of the corridor.

It was a grand, gilded staircase that bridged the east and west wings of the manor.

Certainly a marker of just how palatial the residence actually was.

Having emerged from the west wing, Rosa wondered if the east wing would be totally deserted and comfortably far from the Duke’s room and study.

She needed to get away from the Duke, to be as far away from him as possible—if it was even possible at all—not for fear of her life or any similar urge towards self-preservation, but for her sanity.

Rosa only spent only a couple of hours at most with him, but the time seemed to stretch forever. It was already bad enough that she threw herself into a fool’s errand, believing that she could save her brother’s life and preserve her chastity at the same time.

Of course, the moment she crashed into his study, not able to unsheathe her knife—she realized that she well and truly did bite off more than she could possibly chew.

Saving Luke was paramount, and that was not up for debate. What was, however, was preserving her chastity, and how much pittance she could even earn if she deigned to discard it.

Rosa remembered the Duke’s rather unsavory words, which implied she may use her body as a weapon…

I should have gone with prostitution instead, Rosa laughed bitterly to herself as her eyes swept over the grandiose interior in front of her, taking in everything and nothing at the same time as she was lost in her thoughts. I wonder if it's too late to knock on his door and offer myself—

She winced. What was she thinking? Did she really want to get naked and in bed with someone who knows she wants to kill him, and who threw her nothing but patronizing insults every minute? He’d probably just list down how ugly I am, while he fucks me…

The sheer abhorrence at the idea jolted Rosa out of her untimely thoughts, and she realized that she spent more than a few moments standing like an idiot by the staircase; a sitting duck waiting to be killed.

Right. Look for a room first. Self-pity later.

As she descended the west part of the grand staircase, Rosa spied a large portrait hung on the wall right above where the east and west stairs joined; under the dim incandescent lights she could make out two figures in the huge painting: an elegant, elderly lady seated on a red plush chair, and a strapping, decorated young man—most probably the Duke—standing behind her, just off her right side. His face beamed with a soft, gentle smile. Most probably on artistic license (or aristocratic coercion); the Duke that she came to know just now did not seem capable of such warmth.

Also…

Isn’t she a bit too old to be his mother? Came her passing thought, only to be immediately forgotten after the next few minutes.

===

It only took Rosa less than thirty minutes of wandering the east wing of the manor to pick a vacant room as her base of sorts. All rooms were unlocked, but could be locked from the inside. She then pushed the doorknob lock of her new room and bolted it for good measure, after confirming that it was indeed empty.

Yes, the Duke called her all sorts of insults, but he did not lie or deceive at the very least: all rooms were comfortable, yes; and all of them had their own bathrooms.

And, Rosa eventually learned as she combed through her chosen chamber, rifling through the cabinets, drawers, bedsheets, even the bath—the bit about every room having weapons turned out to be true as well.

The madman fitted this out as a fortress of sorts. Eh, different strokes.

They were placed in such a way where the weapons could only be discovered by those who intended to occupy the room, as opposed to temporarily holing up in it to hide from certain death.

For example: a bowie knife was slipped inside one of the pillow cases—it could only be found by someone who intended to sleep on the bed. The few improvised yet effective melee weapons placed in well-thought out spots in the bathroom, including the shower; all easily at hand even in the unfortunate event of being attacked while doing the duty in the toilet.

There was even a smallsword propped against the bureau, in a corner hidden from view except for the person using the very desk.

Rosa sighed, and the tiredness immediately set in, even as her mind processed the reality of her being surrounded by weapons, close to death every day for the next week, and possibly getting herself killed on the last day.

But Luke…as long as Luke is safe…If I manage…

Tomorrow will come, at least.

Seeing everything in place she dove right into the bed, and willed herself to sink into the comfortable embrace of silken sheets that she could never, ever afford, not even if she sold her body…

===

The winter sun was already about to set when she woke up the next day.

Oh. Oh no.

Rosa stirred in the all-too comfortable sheets, still fully clothed—not that she planned on shedding her clothes anyway, she wasn’t on a vacation—and bolted upright.

The LED clock by the nightstand indicated that it was already past 1 PM.

She had been asleep for more than twelve hours.

Well, it isn’t as if there’s any schedule to—

A strange clunking sound seeped through the glass windows that blocked the winter cold. Curious, Rosa slipped out of the sheets and padded over to the window overlooking the smooth white expanse of snowy nothing, sparsely broken by the occasional black, frozen tree.

The rhythmic cadence of the strange sound—like wooden wheels, or something similar—grew louder, and eventually the thing that made it entered her sights: It was a large wheelbarrow being pushed by the Duke himself. The silver head of hair was unmistakable.

And he did mention something about the wheelbarrow, last night…

Her eyes slightly widened as the ominous dark stains on the tray bed. And there were smears of bright crimson. Fresh.

Her blood ran cold. He wasn’t fucking kidding.

He wasn’t.

With sleep finally bringing clarity to her mind, Rosa found herself overwhelmed with the awareness that yes, she willingly walked into a death game with someone who dumped bodies to god knows where on a daily basis.

But he…he did say he won’t retaliate. That I can use any methods I’d like.

He won’t retaliate.

I have a week.

She sunk into the carpet, hugging her knees as she desperately ran several ideas on how to possibly kill the Duke. She was beyond being scared for herself; no, what she felt was a desperation to make sure that her brother lives to see another day after the week lapses.

Okay. Think.

The loud sound of the wheelbarrow being pushed interrupted her thoughts, and Rosa once again stood up, willing herself to look out the window and stare at her mark, somehow.

He was already almost far into the sprawling garden just across the manor, and all she could see was his back.

His back…splattered red with blood.

Judging from how he moved without any problems, Rosa supposed the blood wasn’t his.

Again she felt a plummeting sensation deep in her stomach. Oh god. That could be mine, once the week ends. Also, all that blood would be a bitch to wash off…

Wash off…

Rosa blinked.

She now had an idea.

===

Back to the present.

“Do you not like what you see?”

Rosa could only stare back at the naked man pinning her down onto the wet tiles of his bathroom.

Not having had the chance to towel his damp hair, shower water dripped from his waterlogged silver locks, forming rivulets that flowed down the sides of her face.

Yet as distracting as the water running down her skin could have been, Rosa did not take notice; her eyes were locked onto deep gold brimming with nothing but what appeared to be either mirth, or ridicule.

She bet her entire life on the latter.

So much for my bright idea, she thought to herself as the Duke bore down on her, his hands holding her wrists to the floor. Her lower body started to feel a little numb with how he shifted most of his weight down her waist, his strong thighs holding her in place.

“See what?” Staring down certain death, while still having enough pluck to feel indignant, gave Rosa the suicidal courage to not care about what happens as a result of her words.

“Certainly looking a little average down there, milord. Or whatever you fancy people call yourselves.”

The truth was, Rosa could not even find it in herself to give herself a good look down there without burning in utter embarrassment, and so she never really got to see his equipment.

The Duke’s hold slackened a bit as he gave himself into laughter. It was nothing cynical, but a pure, delighted laugh. “Ah–hahaha! Gods,” he chuckled, then tightened his hold on her wrists again the moment he felt the slightest of movements. “Little moppet.” He flashed her a sardonic smile. “I find you interesting. But—”

He moved her wrists, now pinned single-handedly right above her head.

With his other hand now free, the Duke felt around for the knife that he knocked off from her grip earlier.

He gave the blade a cursory glance before he gripped it, bringing the tip of the blade to the base of her neck. “So you managed to find this. Well done, pet.”

With a knife held right above her Rosa could only think, Ah, well, and with her limbs held down there wasn't much she could do but stare at the very thing that would sever her life.

She was surprised at herself, at how anticlimactic everything felt; what was supposed to spur her sense of desperation and self-preservation only served to remind of the hopelessness of her circumstances.

Maybe it would be better if she just threw in the towel.

She expelled a long, drawn out sigh as she closed her eyes. “I tried…”

“You forget that I did tell you, I will not retaliate,” the Duke said. “Open your eyes.”

Oh. Right…

She did forget.

Slowly she opened her eyes, apprehensive of what she was about to see.

The knife was still held above her, the overhead lights above making the blade glitter with an ominous luster. Yet the face of the man bearing down on her was bereft of any murderous intent; in his eyes was the faintest glimmer of amusement instead. “But tell me, why did you charge at me here? Am I not allowed to have some semblance of privacy, especially when you know I would be naked?”

Rosa gritted her teeth before giving her explanation. “I didn’t think you’d expect me before six in the evening,” she mumbled. “And I saw you push the wheelbarrow earlier. I knew you had to take a shower…”

The Duke let himself give in to another bout of laughter. “Did you really think there is a schedule for vigilance? Heh. But, bonus points for that bit of observation. Yes, I will be loathe to walk around sporting their filthy blood on my person.

“But with that said…” The knife-bearing hand lowered, the blade-tip lightly touching the collar of her heavy sweater. “You will not last in a real fight. Not even for a second.”

Then the Duke set out to work with the blade, much to her confusion.

It was only when Rosa could hear the sound of clothing being sliced and ripped apart did she realize what was happening. “Wait. What—” Her eyes went wide as he worked on slicing, ripping, tearing the fabric from her with methodical precision.

Oh…Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Both of his hands have long let go of her wrists, and are now preoccupied with the task of undressing her; but not even Rosa herself was foolhardy enough to attempt anything on someone who held her at knifepoint.

“I did say I will not retaliate at your attempts to outright murder me, little pet,” the Duke murmured as the blade slipped underneath the garter of her brassiere, just right between the cups, slicing it neatly.

Both halves of her bra fell off, revealing her breasts.

“But, there will still be consequences. Especially when you violate tenets of basic human decency, such as privacy in the bathroom." He pursed his lips.

"And do not make the mistake of thinking I will let attempts to take my life slide as if they were nothing.”

Rosa gasped as the flat of the blade brushed one of her nipples. “Like you said, I am trying to kill someone. Everything is game.”

“Mhm. That is true,” he hummed in agreement, moving on to remove the clothing on her lower body. “So are the consequences that result from bungling your attempts to commit murder. High risk. High reward.” After making several slices along the length of her pants he tugged at it with such force that the ripping sound resounded loudly within the bathroom walls. “You do understand this, at least?”

And left her with nothing but her panties and boots on her person.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as his gold eyes appreciated her prone form, then tossed the knife away into the farthest corner of the bathroom.

With the threat of the knife gone, Rosa finally dared to move, yet it was only to preserve whatever scrap of modesty she had left: her arms crossed on her chest, covering her breasts as much as she could. “And the consequence this time, I suppose, is to have your way with me, is that it?” she asked, guardedly.

A breathy chuckle. “What do you think?”

Rosa could only look away as he leaned down to plant a small kiss on her cheek, his hands pulling her arms down by the wrists…

And expose her bare breasts for his pleasure.

“It has been quite some time since I have last known a woman's touch.” The Duke pinned her hands above her head once again. “But at the very least I now get to have a say in who I share my bed with, this time,” he mumbled, more to himself, as he moved his body over hers.

The hardness rubbing against the crotch of her panties could no longer be ignored. “And so for your lesson today,” he whispered—his voice now low and sultry—against her ear, “Nothing is ever free.”

A whimper escaped Rosa’s lips as he started grinding his hard cock against her clothed sex in earnest. “Y-you told me I can try as many times as I want…”

“Yes, I did,” he replied as he nipped at her earlobe. “But I did not say there will be nothing in exchange.” Teeth grazed the tender skin underneath her jaw. “Did you really think you can try to kill someone and expect them to greet your attempts at their life with open arms?

“Silly girl,” he said with a tender voice, as if he was calling her with an affectionate endearment. “You are lucky you are playing this game with me. Others may not be so…” A wet kiss on her neck. “...gentle.”

Then his free hand crept to one of her breasts, hungrily groping her soft, yielding flesh with his long, slender fingers.

Despite herself Rosa found herself sighing under his ministrations: his hand kneading her mound with his palm teasing her nipple to stiffness; his cock grinding hard against her now moist cunt. She wasn’t sure if the dampness came from the wet tiles of the bathroom, or if it was something else causing it…

Her breathing became shallower, and she could feel heat rising to her face. “Nngh…”

Oh for Christ’s sake, Rosa gritted her teeth as she weakly tried to wrest away from his lecherous grasp. I only wanted to save my brother.

Fucking hell.

“Hm?” The Duke took a deep breath, as if composing himself, and stopped his movements. “Ah. You do not like this?”

Goddamnit.

Rosa was loath to admit that she actually enjoyed whatever he was doing, and a surreptitious glance at the man holding her down—lithe, toned body glistening and wet from the shower; his immensely pretty face framed by his hair, still damp and faintly smelling of shampoo—made her acutely aware how easy he was on the eyes.

“You’re doing this against my will,” Rosa muttered. “How can I like this? Are you fucking insane,” she added, scathingly.

She did not add the unnecessary detail that her resentment, her words, were actually aimed at herself; how dare she even check out the man who acted as if he had every right to toy with her however he wished?

What the fuck am I thinking?

The Duke looked pensive, for a moment. “Very well then.” He pulled away from her and stood up, brusquely, then offered her his hand—which was in turn ignored.

Rosa chose to stand up by herself, staggering upright, supporting her own by grabbing the nearby towel bar. “I can stand up on my own, thank you very much,” she said curtly, her thoughts—and emotions—quietly in turmoil.

Realizing that she no longer had clothes—the only clothes she had, the ones on her back, all ripped into shreds and strewn beneath her feet—she could only wrap her arms around herself.

Well. There were some clothes in the cabinet, I think.

“My apologies for getting carried away,” the Duke murmured as he reached out for a silk robe hanging from a nearby rack, the color of dark juniper. “Here. Cover yourself with this. There should be serviceable clothing in any of the rooms, even if most of them were procured for a male in mind.”

Rosa wordlessly took it, and slipped it on.

The robe smelled of the man: woodsy scents mixed in with pleasant musk.

She was by now extremely annoyed at herself for even taking note of these things despite what just happened, and what was currently happening.

As soon as she tied the robe’s ivory silken waist tie she started to make her way out of the bathroom. She must have looked quite sullen, as the Duke held his tongue while he followed her into his bedroom proper, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

He broke the silence with, “There will be dinner in the study later.”

“Mm.” Her hand was about to reach for the doorknob leading out of the room when he added, his voice once again edged with just a hint of derision, “But I suggest you think twice before attacking me while I cook. I would be in a room full of knives.”

This made Rosa turn around sharply, to look at him straight in eye as she started to retort, “Look, listen here, yo—”

Yet her words trailed off into nothingness as soon as her eyes landed on his figure, and there was only silence to be had for the next few moments.

Her mouth struggled to find words, only to close as soon as Rosa realized she didn’t quite know what to say about the epiphany that struck her mind so suddenly.

“What.” The Duke looked back at her, a silver eyebrow raised; as if he wasn’t parading in front of her half naked with underwear in his hand.

Rosa’s lips stretched into a taut smile.

Haha. I’m going to die anyway, who the hell am I kidding?

I don’t know why the Duke is toying with me, but he’s most probably just the usual bored aristocrat.

There was a part inside of her that still screamed something about saving her brother, but the stark realization that nothing she could ever do would dig her out of the hellhole she got herself into easily stamped out whatever hope she had.

Why not tick some items off my bucket list before I die?

With those thoughts running through her head, Rosa flashed him a smile twisted with melancholy and foolhardy desperation. “Hey, I changed my mind,” she said, her voice strained. “I just realized how dumb I was for turning down a fuck of a lifetime. I mean,” she let out a dry, sardonic chuckle. “The Duke himself? I’m sorry. I take everything I said back.”

“Whatever do you mean.” His voice lost inflection and tone; clearly the man was unamused at her sudden turn. “What are you playing at.”

“What I said, um. Haha.” Rosa waffled whether to laugh or cry; she honestly didn’t know what she was feeling at this point, except for the palpable sensation of despair. “Well? Or am I suddenly no longer hot stuff?”

His brows furrowed, his gold eyes studying her closely as he did yesterday when he tried to obtain information from her. “Tell me why you changed your mind, so suddenly.”

“Simple,” Rosa pursed her lips. “Once the week lapses…if I don’t get killed here, they will kill me, and they’ll probably kill my bedridden brother in front of me, too.”

The Duke seemed to ponder on what she said. “And you believe you cannot hope to win against me.”

“Yes. Like you always say, I'm stupid. So,” Another forced smile. “Why not enjoy the few days I have left?”

“The logic does make sense,” he said, conceding. “But I do admit that I prefer the reckless, impudent, yet proud girl who sought out to hunt a dragon. Even so,” he beckoned to her. “I suppose your change of mind is my fault.” He allowed himself a curt smile. “I shall take responsibility. I still am a healthy man, after all.” He gestured towards the barely-hidden tent that formed in his towel. “Come.”

Taking in a deep breath, Rosa walked away from the door and approached him slowly, not knowing what to expect.

As soon as she was within his arms reach he tugged at the end of the silken waist tie and deftly undid it, pulling it off the robe’s belt loops. With one swift motion he also slipped the robe off her shoulders, discarding the garment to the floor. “Excuse me,” he murmured as he took hold of Rosa’s shoulders to turn her around; with the silken strip he tied her hands securely to her back.

“Haha, kinky,” Rosa still found it in herself to quip. “How nice.” She let herself be pushed onto the king-sized bed, her prone body lying face down on the soft sheets.

“This is for my protection, of course,” the Duke said as he bent down to plant kisses along her spine. The towel he used to cover himself was tugged off and thrown aside; Rosa could feel his dick jutting against the back of her thigh.

His hand idly caressed her ass. “Are you sure this is truly what you want?” He asked as his lips found their way to her nape, his hot breath a welcome comfort from the cold air in the Duke’s chamber. “What happened to wanting to save your…bedridden brother?”

“Please just fuck me,” came Rosa’s plea. “I’d rather not think about what I’m doing right now.”

“Ah, but this is why you will not last a second in a true fight,” he whispered, his silken voice now a couple of octaves lower, as he slid against her back, preparing to take her. “Thinking several steps ahead is paramount for survival.” He slipped his hands underneath her to shamelessly paw at her breasts; his hips once again moved to rub his now fully erect cock between her asscheeks.

One of his groping hands crept downwards to finger her wet, aroused cunt. “Heh. And I thought you did not like what I was doing.”

A finger slipped inside her easily, and Rosa could only let out a faint gasp as it started to thrust in and out of her. She bit her lip, wincing, not in pain but for how different it felt, compared to when she used to fondle herself on cold, lonely nights…

Her apprehension did not escape him. “Are you in discomfort? You are tensing up,” he noted, his movements not missing a beat. “I do not like to share my bed with unwilling women.”

“N-no, that’s not it,” Rosa almost whimpered. Yet her body became rigid, despite how well she responded to his touches: her hips moved against the palm of his fondling hand, and she arched her back in response to his lips planting wet kisses down her nape and shoulder.

It was as if she didn’t know what to expect, or what to do…

The Duke hazarded a guess. “...Or are you still untouched?”

“I guess not anymore,” she remarked. “Not with how you’re fingering me, at least.”

“Hmm.”

With gentle yet firm hands he undid the silken bonds around her wrists, and nudged her into lying on her back, propping her over a pile of pillows. He then took hold of her hands yet again, securing them to the decorative rod set above the headboard with the silk waist tie.

“Is this more comfortable for you?” he asked, not waiting for a reply as he leaned down for an openmouthed kiss.

She nodded, wordlessly opening her lips to let him taste her.

To Rosa’s surprise she found kissing him quite pleasant; his tongue led hers into his mouth, and as he sucked on her tongue she could feel her pussy throb; she was by now incredibly turned on.

None of her initial fears ever manifested, not right now anyway, and the Duke turned out to be quite the gentleman in bed especially after he managed to suss out that she was inexperienced. He took his time with her, seemingly taking note of where she liked to be touched; she loved it when he ran his palms over her nipples, for one, and she also moaned aloud when he used his tongue to run a trail along her collarbone.

She was also very vocal when he teased her cunt with the lightest of touches of his fingers, and even more so when he slipped a finger inside her.

“Nngh—please,” she moaned out loud. “Let me come…”

Her thighs were now rubbing against each other, his hand still sandwiched in between. “Please,” she begged.

“Then come you shall,” he whispered as he shifted on the bed, positioning himself between her legs. Yet instead of wrapping them around his waist to take her, he instead let her legs drape over his shoulders.

Rosa’s eyes went wide as soon as his tongue-tip made contact with her pussy; slowly he tongued her to heightened arousal: he focused on her clit, tongue drawing circles around the stiff, sensitive bud between her legs.

“Oh god,” Rosa moaned, her legs now pulling him closer to her cunt. “I can’t…ahh!”

This time two fingers slid into her swollen flesh, the thrusting of his digits in time with the alternating flicking and sucking on her clit.

She was almost driven to tears now, still confused if it was because of sheer electric pleasure that thrummed through her entire body, or as a result of pure guilt at abandoning her and her brother’s fate for a moment’s worth of carnal ecstasy.

Finally her entire body shuddered; Rosa moaned out loud as she gave herself into one of the best orgasms she had ever experienced, her hips grinding against the mouth and hand that pushed her over the sweet edge of rapture.

“Well? Did you find my performance acceptable?” the Duke asked, licking her juices off his lips as he pulled away.

Rosa did not—or could not—reply, still catching her breath.

He lay beside her, one hand pulling her close for a deep kiss. As Rosa let him drink kisses off her quivering lips she could feel him move against her thigh; when she looked down she found out he was jerking himself off with his free hand as he made out with her.

“Hm? Aren’t you? Um…” She found it difficult to articulate her question out loud. “...Going to fuck me?”

“I only screw women who want me, pet,” came his urgent answer, his breathing becoming more shallow as he chased his release. “Not those who are…desperate.”

“But I—”

He shut her up with a deep kiss.

Their breaths, moans mingled as the Duke neared his climax, and Rosa, in a fit of inspiration mixed with bravado, blurted out, “Please, untie me,” she begged. “I want to hold you…”

“Heh,” he smirked against her mouth, but reached up and tugged the silken tie loose anyway, then continued with his now frenzied masturbation as he resumed their kissing.

Rosa coiled an arm around his shoulder, and her other hand ran along his back, relishing the feel of his cool skin underneath her palm as their tongues slid and danced against each other.

Her eyes fluttered open as soon as she felt him starting to tense up, about to come, and the hand caressing him moved to slip inside the pillowcase underneath her head…

…and pulled out the knife hidden in the pillow, making sure the Duke was distracted with their kissing to notice his impending death.

Yet when she brought her knife wielding hand down hard towards his exposed back, his hand quickly let go of his cock and struck her arm away, knocking off the blade and sending it spiraling down onto the carpeted floor.

“Yess—ahh!” With an unhinged grin the Duke came in copious spurts, spilling his hot white fluid all over Rosa’s belly.

It was as if her clumsy attempt on his life aroused him so much that it pushed him into orgasm. “Yes, that is more like it,” his words came in a guttural groan. “That is what I want to see from you. Hahaha…” He then tightened his embrace, this time with her wrists pulled down as he lapped up more of her kisses from her still pliant mouth.

“I tried,” she breathed after surfacing, almost drowned by his intense kisses. “I really, truly tried…”

“Yes you did, little pet,” he murmured approvingly. “And look, you even drew blood.”

He showed her where the blade clipped the back of his shoulder; blood trickled down his arm, dripping onto her skin and the silken sheets. “You almost became the black widow who would take my life, but alas, you need to do better.” He grinned.

“Please, don’t ruin my nice mood with another of your patronizing insults, milord,” Rosa murmured as she leaned forward for another kiss.

Might as well enjoy this man while either of us is still alive.

“It is Vilhelm.” He returned her kiss with his languorous own.

“What?”

“It is not milord, call me Vilhelm,” he repeated. “Though in a more ideal situation I would rather you call me Vyn, but…ah.” A flash of an emotion indecipherable crossed his face. “That is neither here nor there, now…

“I will amend our game, just a little,” he said as he lay on his back, pulling her on top of him. “In your next attempt, if you successfully draw blood once more, I will truly fuck you.”

Rosa blinked at him. “Oi. I know you’re bored, but are you this bored?”

Gunshots rang outside, and her head snapped to look at the general direction where the sound came from. “What the—”

“Nevermind that,” Vilhelm drawled. “It happens every day. Now,” he tipped her face towards his by the chin, forcing her to look and pay attention to him only. “Your name.”

“Rosa.”

His eyes scanned her once more. Then, “And your brother’s name?”

“What is it to you?” she frowned. “Why do you care—”

“His name, little Rosa.”

“...Luke.”

He gazed intently at her all the while, and finding her answers—and body language—passable, he repeated his new terms. “If you want a good lay,” he murmured, voice lowered and enticing, “Do your best. Try to maim me, even. Heh.” He licked his lips. “Though of course, if you manage to kill me…” his voice trailed off.

“Are you saying I can fuck you as you’re dying?” Rosa remarked, drily.

“I like your sense of humor,” Vilhelm grinned at her. “But why not. That is fine. If I fall prey to such an ignoble end then I deserve it.”

“You’re on, then.”

And thus the game finally started, in earnest.

===

After reminding the woman of the dinner that would wait for her in the study at six in the evening, Vilhelm finally let Rosa go.

“No. I apologize for making you worry. I am relatively unharmed, the wound is only a scratch,” he said to the person at the other end of the line, phone held to his ear, as he walked over to the window facing the great blank canvas of white spread out under the winter night sky. “My indiscretions are none of your concern. I do not wish to hear that again from you.”

He passively listened to the string of admonishments that streamed from the phone’s receiver into his ear.

“Any luck with the investigation?” Then, after getting a positive response, “Good. I finally have names that you can check: Rosa, and Luke. I suggest you start with immigration, specifically records of entry…”

#tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter #vyn richter smut #tears of themis au #mo yi #tot au

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

And Dusk

A/N: One of my favorites. Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: mentions of violence

Word Count: 2780

—————————————

Chapter 8: Tell Me, Muse

After an awkward-turned-heartfelt conversation between the reunited Allison and Luther about how good they were and the former’s marriage, the two slowly leaned away from each other on their own sides of the table. Allison decided to break the short silence between them. “Have you, um, heard from any of the others? Vanya?”

“Uh, on a farm,” Luther answered with raised brows. “And happy.”

Allison nodded, brows furrowed. “Right… Weird… Uh, Diego?”

“Nuthouse. Klaus?”

“Cult leader.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, Allison laughing aloud. “And, uh, Five turned up a few days ago. What about (Y/N)? You know anything about her?”

Allison froze, her mouth opening and closing. “I… I was hoping you’d know… Five doesn’t?”

“No, he hasn’t found her yet.” Luther’s expression saddened as Allison stared down at the table with a solemn look. “Hey… we’ll find her. She’s tough as nails. I’m sure she’s doing just fine.”

Allison glanced up at him, trying a smile. “Yeah… Yeah, I hope so…”

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

“I don’t see Dad anywhere.” Diego said as he, Lila and Five stood in the midst of the gala. Five turned to him, glass in his hand.

“Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve. I got the upstairs,” When his brother turned away, Five caught his attention again. “Diego, try not to do anything too stupid.” He nodded before taking off, eliciting a soft chuckle from Lila.

Just as the boy ascended the stairs, (Y/N) and Preston had just passed the bottom to slip past Diego and Lila. Preston, after setting the girl’s drink down wherever, held her by the hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor. The two got into position before moving to the beat of the music. Preston tried more than once to steal a kiss, but she would lean away or turn her head in a different direction as if something caught her eye. To say he was getting frustrated was an understatement. She could tell by the quiet huffs through his nose.

“They’re playing our song.” Lila whispered before grabbing Diego by his tie, dragging him onto the dance floor. The only thing separating Diego and (Y/N) was an elderly couple dancing between them. But Diego was too immersed in his dance with Lila to notice his sister. He spun his ‘crazy lady’ around a couple times, causing her to grin. “You’ve got moves.”

“My father insisted on ballroom lessons,” Diego informed before horribly imitating Reginald. “‘One never knows when the paso doble will be the difference between life and death’,” He quoted before slowly dipping Lila. “‘Children’.”

“My mum used to say something along those lines.” Lila whispered, gently pushing his hair back.

“Yeah?” He smiled, eyes moving up when a blur of orange got his attention. He nearly dropped Lila onto the floor when they landed on the person who adorned that color.

“Preston, I don’t think you’ve even applied any of our lessons to our dance.” (Y/N) muttered to her date, who smirked and rolled his eyes. “And why does it seem like you don’t care? I kinda need for you to actually do something right so my dad won’t be on my ass after this.”

“Your dad is nowhere near.” Preston whispered, moving even closer. The girl scoffed and flicked his nose with her fingers. He gasped and hissed as he scrunched up his nose, but before he could scold her about her poor manners, she was pulled out of his hold. Milliseconds later, Lila was spun into Preston’s arms, the boy instinctively holding onto her so she wouldn’t fall. The two stared at each other in confusion and slight disgust as she slowly nodded.

“What a party.”

(Y/N) held onto whoever saved her from her unbearable date, her grip so tight that he softly hissed. Snapping her head up, she gasped at the sight of her brother staring at her with wide eyes and a bright smile. “Diego…”

“Hey, sis.” He wasted no time in crushing her into a hug. Happily laughing, she returned the comfort. Upon close inspection, Lila identified her target. And now she knew that she was important to Diego. The siblings naturally fell into a waltz that Diego flowed along nicely with.

“Look at you, big brother,” (Y/N) laughed. “Not so robotronic anymore, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s been years since I’ve been your dance partner. I had to show you someday. How long have you been here? In Dallas?”

“Since late 1961. You?”

“Got here over two months ago. Shit, you’ve been here awhile… How are you holding up?”

“What do you think?” She chuckled and spun herself under his arm. He got a glimpse of her outfit and hummed.

“Not too bad, I see.” He became serious and leaned in closer. “(Y/N), listen to me, alright? Five was the last of us to get here-”

“Five?” (Y/N)’s steps stuttered a bit, but Diego got them back on beat. “You saw Five?”

He nodded. “But that’s not it. He told me-”

Diego was cut off yet again when (Y/N) was spun out of his hold, replaced by Lila. The woman simply shrugged and nodded towards Preston, who was now holding (Y/N) close and glaring at Diego. He returned the glare before Lila turned his chin so he was facing her. “She’s a little young for you, yeah?”

“What? No, gross. That’s my sister.” He shook his head. Lila raised her brows and led the two in a dance.

“A little sister? How cute…”

“She’s not as little as you think.” He chuckled. “There’s a lot of… interesting things about my family.”

“I didn’t notice.” She giggled, the two of them inching closer until their lips nearly grazed each other. Once again, a certain someone caught Diego’s eye, and Lila noticed. “Well, you are easily distracted.”

But he wasn’t listening to her. “It can’t be…” He whispered before slipping away from Lila, leaving her alone on the dance floor. His journey to Grace seemed to go in slow motion, the man slipping between bodies and clearing the path until she was all he saw. When she turned to him, he was transfixed. It was Grace. His mother who he shut off. “Mom…” He whispered, the woman giving him a look.

“Well, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that,” Her Texas drawl threw him off a bit. Of course. This was the actual Grace. When Diego’s face dropped in realization, she became more perplexed. “Everything alright, hun?”

With a small smile, Diego stepped closer. “You’re real…”

Nervously chuckling, Grace shifted in her place, blinking rapidly. “If this is your idea of a come-on, it’s not goin’ well.”

“No,” Diego stuttered. “Uh, do… Do you know a… a man named Sir Reginald Hargreeves?” He questioned, crossing his arms.

“Reggie? He’s my date this evenin’.”

Diego raised his brows and widened his eyes. “Your date…?” His expression fell into disgust when Grace nodded in confirmation. At his grimace, she shook her head.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. No, no, it’s… it’s just, uh… It’s just a lot to process. The… The thought of the two of you… I can’t picture that in my head. That is… That’s nasty.”

Sighing, Grace tried to make sense of this entire conversation. “You’re a little odd, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Diego smiled up at her, enjoying the sound of her soft laugh before his expression fell. “I mean no. Uh… Do you know where he is?”

“He said somethin’ about a quick meetin’, and he’d be right back. That was twenty minutes ago.”

Diego stared at her with a judging look. But not in judgment of her. “Never good to keep a lady waiting.”

“Tell him that if you find him.” Grace lifted her drink before walking past Diego. She was almost out of sight when he called out to her by her name. Not remembering giving it to him, she turned with guarded confusion. But he only gave her a gentle look.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too.”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) had managed to slip away from Preston, making an excuse to head to the little girls’ room. Unbeknownst to him, she walked in the entire opposite direction, swiftly falling into step beside Lila. “Sorry about that whole switcheroo situation. My brother seems to think with anything but his head.”

“Yes, I noticed,” She smiled, reaching her hand out to shake. “I’m Lila.”

“(Y/N).” The girl shook her hand. Lila’s eyes scanned her up and down as she assessed her.

“My, my, you are cute, aren’t you?”

Thrown off a bit, (Y/N) chuckled and slowly took her hand back. “Thank you? So, how’d you and Diego meet?” She asked as the two of them linked arms.

“The asylum.”

“Lovely.”

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

Blinking into a closet inside the meeting room of the Majestic Twelve, Five adjusted his eyes to the darkness and peered in through the small space he had.

“The president is continuing to make inquiries into Roswell and the other crash sites, gentlemen,” One of the men spoke. “And, as you know, we cannot allow him to get his nose into our business.”

As he continued, Five noticed one of the Twelve delicately cleaning a monocle, urging the boy to lean in closer. “I’ve confirmed the motorcade will indeed be turning left on Elm Street. We’ll have our people in place.”

“Gentlemen,” The familiarity of the British accent startled Five for a mere second, but he only pressed himself closer. “This plan of yours seems ill-timed.”

“It’s going to be a turkey shoot.” Another of the Twelve commented just before Five had gotten too invested and unintentionally made noise with a hanger, causing the men to tense and whirl towards the closet. When the face of Sir Reginald Hargreeves came into view, Five could only stare in shock.

“Dad…?”

Reginald shushed the men and stalked towards the fireplace, grabbing one of the pokers and heading straight for the closet. Five and Reginald stood before each other in silence. One unknowing, one not. The next second, Reginald stabbed through the closet, intentionally trying to harm whoever was on the other side. When he opened the door, though, no one was there.

Five blinked into the hallway and exhaled, straightening his uniform before spinning around. Stood before him was one of the Swedish assassins. The boy cursed to himself before he was grabbed and thrown against the wall. Before he could be thrown into the other, he blinked through it and then behind the man, kicking him in the back of the knee and sending him to the ground. Five jumped onto his back and attempted to snap his neck, but the man was much stronger than the boy anticipated. So, he was flipped over and onto his back. Before the Swede could land a punch to his face, Five blinked behind him again. When he saw that he couldn’t successfully fight back, he tried again to blink, but the energy of his power only sputtered. Much like when he first arrived in the apocalypse. He was drained. When he looked up, the man was much closer than before. “Oh, shit…” The boy muttered before receiving a punch to the face.

In search of Lila, Diego rushed up the stairs and turned the corner, only to find his brother getting pummeled by one of the gunmen he had the pleasure of meeting during his asylum escape. Diego began to move towards Five, but was pulled back when a belt came around his throat and constricted his airway. He struggled with all his might, but his attacker did not relent. Moving to stand in front of him was the other gunman, now wearing brass knuckles on one of his hands. Rearing his arm back, he forcefully rammed the knuckles into Diego’s gut, then his face. Diego used his legs to kick the man away and send him to his knees. Taking out one of his knives, he launched it towards him, but it missed his target completely. He was focused enough on the third Swede continuing to choke him. Diego was dragged down the opposite end of the hall as Five, as the Swede with the brass knuckles landed his weapon on the poor man over and over.

Just in time, (Y/N) and Lila reached the hallway, both of them immediately turning in Diego’s direction. The young girl gasped and rushed to her brother without hesitation. Remembering her ‘side gig’, Lila quickly grabbed a hold of her arm, but turned in the opposite direction upon hearing a groan. Her eyes zeroed on Five being punched, kicked, thrown, and her mother’s voice rang in her head.

“Protect Number Five at all costs.”

So, she let (Y/N) go, the young girl never removing her gaze from her brother. The two females seemed to have had the same idea of kicking off their heels, but (Y/N) took her second one into her hand and launched the heel into the face of the man who was choking Diego. Her brother greedily took gulps of air into his lungs as she tackled the man to the ground. He was the shortest of the three, so he was the best she’d get to an equal opponent. (Y/N) sent punch after punch to his face, her small hands forcing themselves around his throat and squeezing. She watched as his reddened face began to pale the harder she squeezed, and right when she thought he’d pass out, he tangled their legs together and flipped them over. The back of her head hit the floor, a groan escaping her lips before she got her treatment right back to her. Lifting her by the throat, the Swede swung her around and pinned her to the wall.

“Eat shit and die…” She gasped out around his hand. He only clenched his jaw and slammed her head against the wall so hard she was beginning to see stars. Diego kicked his own opponent away before grabbing his sister’s attacker by the hair and tugging him back. Barely giving herself time to breathe, (Y/N) grabbed the shortest Swede by his suit lapels and, with all the force her worn-out body could muster, swung him into the wall. She heard a crack when the back of his head hit the wall, the man slumping to the floor. Turning to Diego, the two breathlessly smiled at each other before a voice called out.

“(Y/N)?! Honey, where are you? We need to go!”

“Shit.” She muttered before grabbing her heels and rushing down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, Preston was there to catch her before she could stumble down the last few steps. Silently, she dropped her heels to the ground and held onto him for balance as she slipped them on.

“(Y/N), what the hell happened to you? I thought you went to the bathroom.” Preston held her by the waist.

“Uh, I got lost?”

“Well, we’ve gotta go, your mom is worried sick.” He grabbed her hand and rushed them out of the building. Just after Five had looked away from the window where he’d spotted Grace and Reginald, (Y/N) and Preston had just been approaching said adults. Grace let go of Reginald’s hand and gasped aloud, hugging her daughter close.

“Where were you? We couldn’t find you anywhere, darlin’.”

(Y/N) quietly chuckled as her father guided them to their awaiting car. “I, uh… got lost leaving the bathroom.” She lied as Preston held the door open for her. The last person to get in the car was Reginald, but just when he opened the door, a familiar voice sounded.

He turned in the direction of someone calling out to him in Ancient Greek. (Y/N) sat up quickly and tried to look out of Preston’s window, but he was blocking her view. That voice…

“Reggie,” Grace sighed. “What are you waitin’ for? We need to go.”

Without another word, Reginald climbed inside the car beside Grace. As they drove away, (Y/N)’s eyes never strayed from Preston’s window. “Dad, who was that?”

“No one important.” He dismissed, but she didn’t give up yet.

“Why did he recite the Odyssey?”

“I’m not sure-”

“And in Ancient Greek?”

“(Y/N), my child,” Her father exasperatedly sighed. “I do not know. It is nothing for you to worry about. So, stop fretting.”

The girl clutched her dress in both her fists, harshly biting her lip. Because there were only so many people she knew, besides herself, who could recite Homer in Ancient Greek.

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua x reader #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Text

Daggers and Swords

Royal AU fem! Reader x assassin!fem!Chuuya

Side characters: Butler, Aiden(youngest brother), Samanda(Sister)

Inspired by the amazing @kiyokoxd and @bsdparadise !♡

You strode over to your room, closing the door and sliding down to the ground. It had been a tiring day, today, and all you wanted was to rip your tiara off and chuck it out the window. This bloody royalty shit was too much for you to handle. So what if you had "pure royal blood"? If you didn't want to marry that jerk of a prince, then you won't! And you had little to no interest in being the queen. The people of this kingdom can go to hell. You didn't give a shit.

Sighing, you got up, deciding that changing out of these tight clothes was the best course of action. It was already night time, and you couldn't bear being in this flowy gown anymore.

You rummaged around in your gigantic wardrobe, searching for a simple black gown. It wasn't a nightgown, but in fact a less shimmery, and more matte, casual tea-dress. You still had to attend a meeting with your siblings regarding your ascent to the throne, but it needn't be an extravagant event. It was just you, Aiden and Samanda, after all. You could wear a simple dress for this.

As you were changing, you heard a knock on your door.

"Who is it?"

You were currently in your black lacy bralette and a skirt slip. It wasn't very modest a look to share with the men.

"Madam sent me. She wanted you to have this before you attended the tea party."

A feminine voice spoke through the doors.

"Come on in, then."

Not paying the maid any mind, you proceeded to pull out the dress and take your time with wearing it. You heard the door shut closed and the lock being turned. You didn't pay it any mind, though. Maids often locked the doors to help you change into your gowns.

Once you were done, you turned around only to be pushed into the wall.

"Don't move."

The so called 'maid', pulled out a knife and held it to your throat.

You chuckled.

"Or what?"

She sneered up at you with her striking blue eyes.

"Move a muscle and you're dead, missy. Don't try me."

You raised a brow at her. She was quite a short and petite little thing. She was called the 'red pirate', a name that was clearly based off of her striking hair. You had always imagined this feared assassin to be imposing. You certainly hadn't expected a tiny female.

"You're so short.", you mused, raking your eyes over her delicious figure.

She growled, pushing the blade further into your skin, drawing a little blood.

"Shut up, or-"

"Or what? You'd kill me? Oh please."

You scoffed, leaning closer to the blade.

"We both know you're in deep trouble already. You don't want the blood of a princess on your hands, especially not the heiress of the throne."

Chuuya, the assassin, grit her teeth. She had heard rumours about the princess' witty nature. Chuuya already had anger issues, and you were getting on her nerves. Your words were frustrating her. She was already flustered from the accidental show of your toned body when she entered the room. She hadn't expected you to be changing.

"What are your plans? Are you hoping to steal an artifact and sell it for some money?"

You whispered in her ear.

"Or are you planning to kidnap me. Hmm?"

Chuuya gulped, a dark blush spreading on her cheeks. The intimacy was too much for her to handle.

She was about to speak back, when you both heard a knock on the locked doors. She froze for a second, before placing the palm of her hand on your mouth to shut you up.

"The Prince is calling for you, princess."

Your butler spoke from the other side.

You bit her hand, causing her to jump in shock, and used the opportunity to flip your positions. Grabbing her own dagger, you placed it against her throat.

"I'll be right there."

You called out.

"Okay, princess."

As you heard the footsteps fade away, you leaned closer to your little assassin.

"You know, I like you. How about we talk this out? It would be a shame to waste such beauty by hurling it into prison."

Chuuya growled, trying to kick you. Your reflexes were fast, and in a moment, you had your knee pressed I to her thigh to keep it in place.

"Nuh-uh. No funny business. "

She huffed, giving up.

"Now tell me. Why are you here?"

Chuuya hit her head on yours, making you lose your balance. She struck her arm forward, trying to stick her dagger into your flesh. You stumbled back, grabbing a chair and blocking her attack. The tip of the knife pierced through the cushion and wood, stopping an inch away from your face. Tossing the chair away, you reached underneath the edge of your bed, grabbing your hidden sword.

As Chuuya flung her dagger at you again, you blocked it with your sword, swiping at her feet. She dodged, elbowing you in your back, making you fall down.

She lunged at your torso, hoping to stab you. You rolled away, missing the blade by a millisecond.

"Why won't you just lie still!", she growled as she tried to pull the dagger from the wooden floor.

You jumped up on your feet, and charged into her with your shoulder. Pushing her onto the large king sized bed, you pinned her down.

Chuuya gasped, shocked and flustered. Fuck. This princess is really having an effect on her heart.

It wasn't like chuuya to let emotions get between her work, but she couldn't help but admire your beauty and charm.

Realizing the position you two were in, chuuya blushed, evading your gaze.

You were quick to notice, smirking.

"Flustered, are we?"

Straddling Chuuya, you sat up straighter, flicking your hair out of your face. At that moment, you could swear you saw Chuuya checking you out.

"Ah. I see why you're here."

Chuuya panicked. Did you really see through her plans?! If you figured it out, then her mission would practically fail.

"You're hear to woo the future queen and become ruler, aren't you?"

"Wh-what?! No!"

You giggled, leaning down to peck Chuuya's cheek. The simple action had her blushing furiously and hiding her face behind her hands. You gently held her hand, pulling at it to reveal her red face.

Chuuya looked up from behind her lashes, too shocked to think straight. As you looked down at her with that stupid smile, Chuuya couldn't help but feel her heart start beating rapidly.

You slowly began leaning closer to Chuuya, eyes trained on hers. Chuuya's lips parted in anticipation, and she kept glancing at your lips. They looked so soft.

Your smell, your closeness, it was all so intoxicating. Chuuya found herself getting lost in your aura.

You were so close now. Just a hair's breadth away. If Chuuya leaned up ever so slightly, she'd be able to taste your lips.

Click

The metallic sound was enough to snap her out of the trance.

"You bitch!"

Chuuya tugged at her hands, but to no avail. You had cuffed her hands to the headboard.

Getting off the mattress, you looked down at Chuuya pitifully.

The extreme change in your expression startled Chuuya. Were you acting all along? Were you manipulating her all this while?

"If you had done your homework about me, you would have known the most irritating trait of mine."

Chuuya frowned. She had done extensive research about the princess.

"Oh? And what's that?"

You glared down at her.

"I never lose."

With that, you stormed out of the room, not bothering to call the guards.

You would punish her yourself.

This could very well be fem! Dazai x Fem! Chuuya as the main character has such a Dazai vibe to her...

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Text

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 24 (18/06/21)

this is the first session that they use the assassin role. also Etho is late to the session and misses the first few rounds.

...

Evil: Skizz, Skizz. I’m giving you a clock. Skizz, laughing: You want me to kill Impulse? Impulse: Hey!

...

Tango: Why would I kill someone and then go hang out in the kill room? Brody: You HAVE said that you’re bad at this game. Tango: I’m not THAT bad, c’mon.

...

*after Impulse and Brody win as imposters* Brody: Nice work, Impulse! Tango: Good job, guys. Endless: That was garbage. GARBAGE! Brody: Hey! You’re- You’re- You’re… garbage. Endless: Aww…

...

Astro: Hey Evil, remember when you saw Impulse was there, you heard Impulse was there on the left? It’s almost like it WAS Impulse... Tango: Yeah, weird.

...

*everyone has skipped vote except Endless, who voted for Evil* Evil: Really, Endless? *pause* Endless: Yes.

...

Astro: Can you confirm that you’re not lovers? Tango: Yeah, why would I love [Brody]?

...

*body is reported* Brody, immediately: Astro, Astro, Astro. *chuckles* Astro. Astro: I- I- Brody: Go ahead. Astro: I- Hey, I’m gonna pull an Impulse here. I saw the body. I’m the engineer. *laughs* And I- Yeah, I- Impulse, laughing: You’re gonna use my- It hasn’t worked for ME all night long, why do you think it’s gonna work for YOU? Astro: I don’t! Which is why I was very tentative on using it, but- but one has to use that. Brody: So you were moving towards the body and you were like- Astro: Yeah, I was gonna report it! Cuz I was- I was in the vent, I came out as the engineer. Brody: Ohhh, that’s good news. Endless: I- I- Astro: I was gonna report the body. Brody: Go ahead, Endless. Endless: I have a helpful tip for you imposters if one of you is the assassin: Astro is the engineer! Brody: He’s not, though.

...

Brody: I just saw Tango and Evil and I was with both of them. Tango: Are you saying one of them came in and killed? Brody: No no, I’m just saying the last person I saw was- *graphic of Endless stabbing himself multiple times in the back plays* Brody: ...okay. Alright. Mrs Tango, dead: What just happened?! What was that?! Endless, dead: I got assassinated like a boss! Tango, laughing: I don’t care what just happened, that was awesome!

...

Impulse: The mayor votes are always anonymous but we can go full anonymous if you want. Endless: Yeah, that’ll screw Brody over. Brody: Yeah!

...

*Joker has been caught killing* Joker: You know what? I’m just gonna sit here and waste this 40 seconds. Endless: It’s not a waste. The longer you wait, the longer we get to spend with you :)

...

(Etho joins the group at this point) Etho: So I walked into nav, Joker was just ahead of me. I don’t think he did the kill but we found poor Endless dead in nav. Mrs Tango: Aww, poor Endless. Brody: Why did you kill him? *pause* Etho: Cuz of his voice. Brody: Oh yeah, I get it. Evil, who did you vote for? Evil: I skipped. Brody: That was very quick to skip. Evil: It’s just Endless. Brody: Oh.

...

Astro: I was alone the whole time. Etho: Were you? Astro: Yeah. Impulse: That’s what I was saying. I was like “I haven’t seen Astro” cuz if I had, you would’ve been DEAD. Tango: DEAD! Astro: ...fair enough.

...

*body is reported quickly after a sabotage* Skizz: Evil and Skizz saving lives! Endless: ...DID they save lives? Cuz both of the Tangos are dead. Etho: Oof.

...

*Skizz and Joker have been arguing the whole round about the semantics of when exactly you’re considered “dead” when you’re voted off* Skizz: When you know you’re dead is when you’re dead. Joker: No, Skizz, they’re dragging you out to the airlock. You’re still- Skizz: I know how, like, the- the anatomy of it. I know when you run out of air, you’re actually dead, but- Joker: Yeah so- Skizz: Use your brain, for the love of god! Joker: I AM using my brain! I’m yelling- Skizz: I’m not entirely sure that’s true. Joker: Oh how DARE you. Those roots go too deep on that mohawk. Skizz: *laughs* Joker: Unbelievable, Skizz. Skizz: Oh boy… *pause* Etho: They seem to be a happy couple now.

...

Impulse: I feel like I keep getting caught by people who I can’t see. Joker: That’s because you just gotta- You need to do better. Impulse: Okay, you’re dead first. Gimme imposter. I will kill you at the table at the starting line, let’s go. Joker: *laughs* You promise? Tango: I like this. This is great.

...

*someone killed Joker in reactor while Impulse’s view was hidden by his task* Impulse: What just happened? I got off numbers and there’s a dead Mister Joker right here. Skizz, you and Tango were literally standing right there. Skizz: I know, and I’m embarrassed. Impulse: You should be.

...

Mrs Tango: I was in electrical. All by myself. Evil: Mrs Tango’s lying. She was not all by herself. I was there with her. Mrs Tango: Were you in there? Evil: I was talking to you! I said “don’t kill me”. Brody: Think about that for a second, Evil. That’s how much she remembers you. Evil: Hahaha. I see. Well, you know, she follows me on twitter though, so… Mrs Tango: *bursts out lauhging* Tango: OHOOOO! Endless: That was harsh. Tango: Feel the buuuuurn! Astro: Fighting words, there. Brody: I’m no longer playing games with her anymore. It’s done.

...

*after Brody wins as jester* Tango: So wait, who actually killed [Skizz]?! Impulse: I did. Tango: Evil, how did you vouch for him, then? Wait... were you the other imposter? Impulse: He was the other imposter. Tango: OH COME ON!

...

*body is reported* Etho: Hey everybody. We got a Skizzleman in… oh man, it’s been a while. What’s the room with the vitals? Brody: Wait hold on, Etho doesn’t know what room it is? Etho: Is it admin? Or is it called something else? Impulse: I don’t think it has a name. But it’s next to the meeting table, right? Tango: Okay, so what’ve you got? *pause* Etho: He’s dead.

...

Impulse: *morphs into Etho and rushes towards Evil and the real Etho* Etho: OH! Kill Evil, kill Evil!! Impulse: *kills Etho, ending the game* Etho: ...darnit…

...

Tango: If you were gonna put a condiment in your belly button- Brody, running away immediately: NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE-

...

Brody: Tango was chasing me around, I think trying to tell me a pun, which- Tango: It’s not a pun. Endless: He just wants to know what condiment you want in your belly button, dude. That’s not a pun, that’s- Tango: Exactly, it’s a legit question. Endless: It’s a normal thing you wonder about friends. Brody: ...why are you two the way that you are?

...

*Etho’s body is reported* Brody: It’s in that room that we were confused about the name. Next to the meeting table. *long pause* Endless: I’m voting Etho. Brody: Thank you, Endless.

...

*Astro is the giant* Evil: Astro, how big is your knife? Astro: I- If I had one, it would probably be very small. Brody: Oh. Evil: Well, that’s sad.

...

Skizz: Who was in the office? At the end there? Impulse: I was just in there to look at vitals. Astro: Impulse, and I went swooping by him. *pause* Astro: Poor use of words, there.

...

Brody: So who mayored [Impulse] on that last round? Skizz: I did. Impulse: You mayored me?! Etho: Ohh there’s gonna be some words exchanged! :D Impulse: Woooooow. 25 years down the drain.

#friday night stabby quotes #friday night stabby #impulsesv #tangotek #skizzleman #etho #astrozoan #brodyman #theendless #evilnotion #misterjoker #mrstango

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maddogofshimano · 4 years

Text

Dojima Yayoi Character Story

The acting 5th Chairman herself, Yayoi!

Despite wielding a sword, she’s actually a defense unit in game. RGGO unfortunately sticks women in any role except offense almost universally, Miss Tatsu is one of the very few exceptions to that. Even characters like Nair and Kaoru are usually support units! It’s pretty lame.

Summary: Set following Terada’s death and Kiryu’s first talk with Daigo, we find Yayoi learning about the machinations of the Omi. Kashiwagi has a plan to pull the Tojo Clan back together, but he’s going to need the right person to take charge, and Yayoi has an opinion on who that should be.

2006, 5 years after Dojima Daigo was arrested for violating the firearms and sword laws after travelling to Osaka to face Goda Ryuji

Daigo, who was expelled from the family, was abandoned by his previous cronies and has fallen to excessive drinking.

Daigo continues to order drinks. Yayoi finds him in the club and approaches.

Daigo wants to know why she’s here. She wants to know when he’s going to knock it off and how long he intends to live like this. The man who commited that murder wasn’t Kiryu... but Daigo already knows that, doesn’t he. Kiryu must have asked Daigo to help the Tojo Clan, so he ran off to get himself wasted, right?

Daigo, being accurately called out, doesn’t want to talk to Yayoi, and says she should leave. It’s none of her concern. She says that of course it’s her concern, she’s his mother.

Daigo snaps back that now she wants to act like a mom?

Daigo leaves without another word.

She follows him into the street, but he’s already gone. She reflects on what he said, he’s never said something to her like that before. For a long time now, she and that other person’s work with the family must have made Daigo terribly lonely. (Tl note: really vague on who that other person is! I would assume Dojima Sohei, but it would be very interesting for her to think of him as “that other person” instead of her husband or ex-husband)

Right now that child simply won’t listen to her. Kiryu though... she wonders what he can do.

She’s interrupted by some jackass trying to hit on her.

She tells him to scram, she’s not in the mood to deal with this. He attacks, because he is a goon. She tells him not to complain if he dies.

The goon starts screaming for help, that she’s a murderer. Yayoi knows better than to stick around, and leaves, still wondering what to do about Daigo. She hears something and sees none other than........

Kashiwagi!

He’s bleeding from his chest! She’ll do first aid, but he needs to get to a hospital ASAP. Kashiwagi claims that he’s fine, really! Sorry about this, ma’am... ugh...!

She asks what happened, Kashiwagi explains that he was attacked by an Omi Alliance assassin. Yayoi is shocked to hear it’s the Omi!

Yayoi wants to know what Kashiwagi is talking about. He explains that the Omi have been attacking, first targeting the 5th Chairman, Terada. They got him into an ambulance, but he still died. Yayoi is shocked. Kashiwagi says that the main branch is working overtime to handle this.

He was actually looking for Yayoi regarding that. Unfortunately, the hitman attacked him in the middle of his search, leading to this sorry spectacle. The Omi might be trying to crush everyone.

Yayoi has a grasp on the situation now, but asks why Kashiwagi is coming to her with this. He tells her he has a plan he’d like to discuss. Unfortunately they’re interrupted by goons bursting in, shouting that they found Kashiwagi.

Yayoi asks if these are the hitmen that got him. He confirms it, they stabbed him out of nowhere. The goons say they’re going to do a lot more than that this time!

Yayoi is winning, and Kazama Family boys arrive to chase them off. One of the boys asks if Kashiwagi is alright, he says he’ll be fine, and tells the man not to ignite this powder keg into an all out war.

Yayoi and Kashiwagi head to a familiar bar to discuss this plan that Kashiwagi has, since it’s too dangerous to remain out in the street.

Kashiwagi: ...I’ll cut straight to the point. I want Daigo to be the acting 5th Chairman.

Yayoi: Daigo as acting chairman...!? Kashiwagi: ...Yes. Yayoi: You... You’d paint a target on Daigo’s back like that...!? Kashiwagi: ...I recognize the seriousness. But with the 5th chairman dead and myself as acting captain having been wounded... Leaving the main branch without a head is signing the whole clan’s death warrant. Yayoi: ...I understand what you’re saying, but to put that burden on Daigo... Kashiwagi: Right now the Tojo Clan is shaken. The Omi won’t wait around for us to resolve this. Kashiwagi: We need to get ourselves unified as soon as possible. To do that, we need someone suitable to lead us. Kashiwagi: It pains me to say this, but I see no other option.

Kashiwagi says that he thinks Daigo is the kind of person who could pull the Tojo Clan back together. He knows that it’s not something Yayoi wants to hear, but he hopes that she understands. She does, but she has one suggestion, if he’ll listen.

Kashiwagi asks if this is really okay?

Yes, she’s not going back on what she said. Kashiwagi understands. Yayoi asks if they can make one minor detour first.

Back at the club Daigo is barking at staff to get him more booze.

The staff are very politely trying to cut him off. Thankfully Yayoi and Kashiwagi arrive, though Daigo is not thrilled to see them and wants to know why they’re here. Yayoi says she has something to tell Daigo, Daigo says he doesn’t want to hear anything, Kashiwagi tells him he better watch his mouth.

Daigo tells him to shut up and that he doesn’t want to be involved with anything. Mouthing off to Kashiwagi was apparently the final straw--Yayoi knocks Daigo to the floor.

Yayoi: You can stay out of this, Kashiwagi. Manager, sorry, this will get a little violent.

Yayoi: Stand up Daigo. I’m not telling you something as your parent. Yayoi: I’m just angry at the dumbass who’s drinking by himself instead of having the guts to stand up during a time like this. Daigo: ...Don’t give me that crap! Yayoi: Then let me see you grit those teeth!! <They fight, Daigo loses>

Yayoi: Moron. You’re so drunk that you can’t even walk straight. Yayoi: ............Daigo, Terada is dead. Daigo: .......... Yayoi: The omi are attacking. ...It might even turn into a war. Daigo: ....So what. Did you come here to tell me to go back to the clan? Yayoi: ....I’m going to become the acting chairman. That’s what I came here to tell you. Daigo: Acting chairman....!? Are you serious!? Yayoi: Yes, starting now I’ll be replacing Terada. I’ll get the Tojo Clan in order. Daigo: What the hell are you thinking!? Have you lost your mind... Yayoi: ...Of course I know the dangers of the position. But It’s what must be done. Otherwise... Daigo: You...　The lengths you’ll go to for the clan. Yayoi: ......Daigo. Ever since I became that man’s wife, I’ve been prepared for this. Yayoi: Right now... it’s the time. Daigo: Ghh!! Yayoi: ...That’s all I came here to say. Yayoi: Let’s go, Kashiwagi. Kashiwagi: ...Yes ma’am. They leave and Yayoi is quiet. Kashiwagi asks if she’s alright. That was a lot to talk to Daigo about. She says she’s fine, and thinks back to the conversation they had in the bar.

She put forward that she wants to be the acting chairman. Kashiwagi is stunned.

Yayoi: Do I lack the ability for it? Kashiwagi: No, everyone knows that the Dojima Family only made it’s rapid climb thanks to you. You’ve got a large base of support, and the perfect qualities for a leader. I have no objections. Kashiwagi: ...Will it really be okay though? Yayoi: I also think Daigo has the capability to carry the Tojo Clan on his back. Yayoi: But right now, that kid is a little... I’m worried that he doesn’t have enough time to get his feet back under him. Yayoi: Helping him do that should really be something I do as his mother. However, I’m no good at that. Yayoi: So... I wants to offer up my life to buy him the time he needs. (Tl note: the literal phrase here is “burn up [her life]” which is metal as hell) Yayoi: That’s what I can do to become the kind of parent who gives things to her child. Kashiwagi: ............. Ma’am.....

<cut back to present> Kashiwagi: ...Tactless people. Daigo, and you both, ma’am. Yayoi: Heh... That man was too. Yayoi: Well, let’s get going, shall we? The main branch is big, right? I’ll need to decide on our new policies soon. Yayoi: ...I’m counting on you. Kashiwagi. Kashiwagi: Yes ma’am. I, your humble servant Kashiwagi, shall do my utmost to protect you. ...Acting fifth chairman!

<END>

bonus time: At several points Kashiwagi sort of belatedly added in the proper titles for Yayoi, including that last line. It wasn’t easy to fit in for the most part, so I didn’t try to force it.

I really love that this means that Daigo took another loss during Y2, this time his mom went and kicked his ass. Also interesting that Yayoi really did mean Dojima Sohei all those times she referred to “that man”, there’s probably a lot that can be read into that.

Also, eat your heart out Yayoi/Kashiwagi fans.

#rggo #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #yakuza #yayoi dojima #daigo dojima #kashiwagi #yayoi #daigo

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

A Dangerous Game

part 25

masterlist

Hello darlings! guess who finished her paper! This bitch! This one’s a little short again, my apologies, but we are inching ever closer to the inevitable for Y/N and Namjoon. Again, please take a look at the teasers for the hyung line. I would love to know opinions on who you all think I should write for next! Comment, ask, send me a message! I’d love to hear from you!-- chaotic puff

The next few weeks were oddly reminiscent of her first weeks at the estate. She was never alone. It was a though everyone around her thought she was going to break, and maybe she had. Her world had been turned on its head, and suddenly she felt every bit the fragile lady that Namjoon had made her out to be. Jackson’s betrayal had hit her hard leaving her far more listless than normal. It was as though all the fight had gone out of her. But just because she was listless, this did not mean that the estate was as well.

Everything around her was bustling in preparation for the upcoming wedding. Due to her “fragile” condition, Namjoon had taken all the planning in hand. There were a constant stream of his people going in and out of the estate. Cake tasting and floral arrangements, tuxedo fittings, and anything else you could think of. It was as though Namjoon was determined to have everything arranged as quickly as possible, before either she or GOT7 could change their minds. She doubted though that anyone changing their minds would stop him. He was a formidable man in more than one way she was finding. She didn’t think that she had ever seen a man take wedding preparations quite so seriously.

She didn’t know how he had the energy to do it all. He was running his criminal empire, planning a wedding, and he still found time to spend doting on her. She swore there was something new every day, flowers, deserts, jewelry, books. All the affection was a little smothering, and when Namjoon wasn’t with her one of his goons was. She had hoped Jungkook’s return would mean a return to his being her babysitter, but that was unfortunately not the case. She had a stream of different babysitters, the most daunting of whom was Hoseok.

While she had a preexisting dislike of Taehyung based on his being the one to place the anklet on her, and Yoongi was a decided grump, something about Hoseok unnerved her. The man was a ball of sunshine, most of the time. But there were moments where the sunshine faded away, and in its place was a darkness very much akin to Namjoon’s. At least Namjoon wore his darker nature like a second skin. He was a predator through and through. Hoseok’s darkness was hidden under a carefully cultivated layer of sunshine. If Namjoon was the wolf, then Hoseok was the snake hiding in the grass, and in this game she was only prey. With Namjoon she knew what to expect, but Hoseok was like a pipe bomb without a timer. You never knew when he was going to go off. Her discomfort didn’t seem to dissuade him from following Namjoon’s orders though. On days he was assigned to her, where she went, he followed to every fitting, cake tasting, and walk through the garden.

She was sitting in the garden basking in the autumn sun taking a break from the constant stream of wedding plans, completely exhausted. Luckily her guard for the day had to be the most laid back out of all of them. Yoongi was just as content as she was to bask in the sunshine doing nothing. If someone had told her that he was secretly a cat, she probably would have believed them. The man had a very feline quality to him, but she found him to be a very calming presence despite his grumpy demeanor. He spent the least time of all her minders treating her like a doll that would break if not handled with care.

“You’re getting married next week.” He pointed out as she waved off one of the maids telling her that her dress had arrived. “Shouldn’t you be more excited?”

“I would be, if I actually wanted to marry the man.” She scoffed taking a sip of her tea.

“You agreed to this.” He deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes leveling him a look that was just as deadpan as the one he was giving her. “That was before I found out Jackson was still in the mafia, and that sacrificing myself for him was useless, before his friends sold me off like it was the 1400s.”

“Want me to shoot him?” He asked taking a drink from his coffee. She could swear the man survived on coffee alone.

She laughed though it held no joy. It a bittersweet sort of sound. “Do you think it would help? Would it magically send me home or send me back in time to before I met Namjoon?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But I’m a really good shot.”

And he was. Yoongi was an excellent shot. She’d found out from Taehyung and Jungkook that Yoongi was a sniper, an assassin, a fixer. He took care of problems for Namjoon. If someone got on Namjoon’s bad side, Yoongi was the one that paid them a visit.

“You wanna marry Namjoon then? That would make me feel better.” He snorted shooting her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She shivered as a stiff autumn breeze went through her. Almost immediately a maid was there offering her a shawl. She took it only because she knew that the maid was only trying to help. Namjoon had given everyone strict orders to take care of her which translated to the hovering she had been living with for the past few weeks.

“You could have all this. People waiting on you hand and foot.” She tried to convince him as she wrapped the shawl loosely around her shoulders only slightly annoyed that Namjoon had given one the maids a shawl to hover over her with that perfectly matched the dress that she had chosen to wear that day. He was annoyingly meticulous like that.

“They already do that.”

“Only ‘cause they’re scared you’ll break their kneecaps.”

“Too much effort.” He shrugged slouching down in his seat. “You should go try on your dress though. Namjoon will throw a hissy fit if it doesn’t fit, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“You and I both know that Jin or Hoseok would be dealing with that tantrum.” She reminded him. Jin and Hoseok were the poor souls to deal with the brunt of what could only be described as Namjoon’s pre-wedding jitters. She wasn’t supposed to know about them, but Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook had no qualms about complaining about their perfectionist boss and friend to her so she heard every detail of his almost manic pursuit of perfection for their wedding day.

“Think of Jin hyung.”

“Jin can give him a sedative and do us all a favor.” She hummed gently pushing herself out of her seat and moving over to examine the flowers that were in bloom. “Besides we both know that he wouldn’t allow the dress to be anything less than perfect. I’m pretty sure he threatened the poor seamstress with a bullet through her skull if she didn’t make sure everything was perfect.”

“If you took more interest in your wedding, maybe he wouldn’t be so stressed.”

“If I took more interest in this sham of a wedding, it would give him far too much pleasure.”

Yoongi chuckled finishing off his cup of coffee. “He’s excited to have a legal claim to you, can’t say that I blame him.”

“You want to marry me too, Yoongi?” She asked throwing him a coquettish look over her shoulder.

“No. You’re far too much trouble. But you’re good for him.”

“I’d stab him in a heartbeat given the chance, and you know it.”

“You already have.” He pointed out. “You weren’t aiming for him though. Planning to try again?” He inquired quirking a brow at her.

She was going to answer him, but a different maid made her presence known carrying in a bouquet of pink and white peonies. “Bu-in, the sajangnim sent these for you. Where would you like them?”

She sighed giving Yoongi a long suffering look before turning a tired smile on the poor maid. “Put them in the piano room please. I don’t think the bedroom has any more room for flowers.”

“Yes, bu-in.” She bowed scurrying away to place the flowers where she was directed to.

“You can tell your friend to stop sending gifts. I don’t have any need for diamonds, and if he doesn’t stop soon, we’ll be drowning in flowers.”

“Wait till the wedding. We’ll really be drowning in flowers then. Who knew Namjoon was such a romantic.”

“Romantic, psychotic, same thing.” She shrugged watching as yet another maid come out to tell her something. “Sajangnim has arrived. Would you like me to prepare a fresh pot of tea?”

“No. If he wants something he’ll ask for it. I’ll be in the piano room.” She sighed suddenly feeling more tired than before. “Would you like to come Yoongi? We can practice that sonata, and you can yell at me for messing up the notes.” She offered.

She’d found over the past few weeks that while Yoongi was a grump and Namjoon’s fixer, he was also an excellent pianist. They’d played a few songs together, but his skill far outweighed her own. More often than not he ended up scolding her for missing the rhythm or the notes or not placing her fingers correctly.

“That piano is wasted on you.” He grumbled.

“I’m aware, Yoongi. I’m aware.”

She headed towards the door knowing that Yoongi would follow shortly as Namjoon had yet to steal her away, and she wasn’t to be without a minder when Namjoon wasn’t present. The man had become more paranoid than normal ever since the incident, as he liked to call it. Before, her minders could give her a bit of space, but now space was a thing of the past.

Namjoon found them in the piano room playing the same duet that they had been practicing for the past two weeks. He didn’t even mind the sharp reprimands that Yoongi would snap at her, something he normally wouldn’t allow, because Yoongi had gotten her to play the piano again. She hadn’t touched the instrument since the incident, but Yoongi had gotten her to play again, unsurprising given the man’s talent for piano and the beautiful instrument that was at his disposal at the manor.

“Schubert again?” He asked remaining just outside the door. This was her space, and he was hesitant to invade it without her permission given the incident. He didn’t want anything to set her off again. He didn’t think he could handle another incident.

“Sonata for four hands ‘Grand duo’. It’s only the first movement though.” She responded with a slight smile while Yoongi grumbled at the interruption.

“She can finally play part of the first movement without it sounding like a toddler.”

She didn’t seem to mind the insult though choosing instead to lean her head on the man’s shoulder with a gentle smile. She never seemed to mind Yoongi’s more abrasive comments, and Yoongi never seemed to mind her more affectionate gestures. They all knew he was secretly a softy. She’d known that from the first time she’d seen him with Moni. The man was a sucker for dogs.

Yoongi shrugged her off and got up leaving without another word, leaving her alone with Namjoon who came to sit next to her on the piano bench.

“I see you got my flowers.” He mused while she hummed in agreement. “Play for me?” He asked, and she did.

part 26

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #yandere #soft yandere #rm x reader #rm #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #a dangerous game #fanfic

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scribbleseas · 4 years

Text

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter VI: The Importance of Pluck

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks and flashbacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you so much for enjoying this story so far! I can’t wait to take you down this wild road with this cast of characters. As always, if you have any questions or concerns about the story warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Please note that the warnings are subject to change by each chapter.

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

FEBRUARY 14TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Y/n!” Andrea’s calloused hands pulled you into a tight bear hug, causing you to stumble forward, uncoordinated by the sudden movement of the door and her springing towards you and Autumn. Reluctantly, you melted into the embrace from the sole reminder that this was the same woman that showed you the separation between your traumatic childhood and reclaiming this facade. Not to mention, a few phrases of conversational Spanish.

“Buena noches, Andrea,” (Good evening, Andrea) you greeted halfheartedly, your foul mood having yet to completely subside from the front of your mind. Without Doña’s need to meddle, you never would have needed to leave the warmth of the guest quarters in the middle of the night in the first place. The mission was completely under your control- the objective remaining as crystal clear as it was on day one. Killing Lord Phantomhive was not nearly the challenge your subconscious was making it out to be.

“¿Dónde está Doña?” (Where is Doña?) You asked once Andrea released you and motioned towards the reins that you clutched in your hand. Asking for the location of a local stable would have been next on your course of action. However, she seemed to know exactly where to keep Autumn for the time being.

“Inside...still waiting for you. Diego will show you the way,” the woman gestured to the familiar man as he crossed his arms in the doorframe. The same playful smirk tugged at his lips, suggesting that he heard some kind of joke that he didn’t dare repeat. Andrea started off with Autumn in tow, the horse’s tail flicking back and forth lethargically.

“The dress hugs tight,” Diego commented patronizingly as he led you through the hall. You could tell by his comment that Diego was only trying to provoke your outrage, no matter how you tried to keep your face neutral. Of course, the dress fit your frame better- you were eating three meals a day alongside some form of an extravagant dessert. There was no shame in enjoying good food while it was available to you.

“You’re one to talk,” you glared at Diego’s back as he walked. His black trench coat was tied around his lean frame tightly, the bottom shifting with each step that he took. The outline of his gun holster was clearly fastened around his waist beneath the coat. There was nothing more ridiculous than the thought of a man like Diego having the morality to murder someone. But you supposed if that was the case, he wouldn’t affiliate with women such as Doña- or yourself.

“Doña, she arrives,” Diego stopped short before a small living room. The vicinity was warmed by a tame fire in the fireplace, the orange hue painting the rest of the room. As the rest of the rooms were, this room was notably empty- save for two sofas and a single table between them.

The lady herself, Doña, occupied the middle of one of the couches, nursing a rum-spiked coffee, her thin fingers wrapped around the thin stem of the glass. The scent of the over-proofed rum drifted about the room, causing you to cringe. You’d never understand why Spaniards preferred their coffee with hard liquor mixed in- according to Andrea, the combination was called a carajillo.

“Lovely,” Doña’s painted lips spread into a satisfied grin, the corners of her mouth pulling upwards. “Sit Y/n. Sit,” she said, patting the cushion next to her with a free hand. You made it a point to sit in the middle of the empty sofa across from her, your hands smoothing over your petticoats as you regarded the light ecru Doña wore. The majority of the top layer was made of tulle so to create a softer ambiance to oppose her burgundy lip color- such as a shade that was forbidden for royalty, or any self-respecting woman.

“I’ll go help Carmen with the...bebé,” Diego cringed as the sound of Doña’s wailing child sounded from the floor above. “Excuse me.”

“I haven’t all night, Doña,” you snapped impetuously as you watched the woman’s face, contemplative as she listened to her daughter sob. You heard Carmen seethe ‘¿Por qué no podemos ponerla en adopción ya?’ and in response, Diego only laughed. Andrea was still putting your horse away, but the sobbing would likely stop the second she entered the baby’s line of sight.

“If only you had the same sense of urgency in completing the mission I assigned a month ago,” Doña took a long drink of her carajillo, her face twisting at the taste. “Did you not guarantee me seven days at most?”

In a fit of haughtiness, you had made a claim that went something along those lines. After all, the longest you spent on one mission before this one, was waiting for the servant rotation of Agatha Tolton to switch in your favor. The woman was rarely alone and you preferred to only kill your targets during a mission.

“There are unforeseen obstacles inside the estate,” you lied. In truth, you spent plenty of time alone with the Earl- three meals a day and occasionally, time in the foyer at night. Hiding your dagger in the folds of a nightgown and stabbing him wasn’t out of your capabilities and yet, you were postponing it for the comfortable treatment- even if it was all stolen from Marie’s identity.

“Unforeseen obstacles in the estate,” Doña repeated, unfazed by your lie. “What sort of obstacles could possibly be new to you?”

“There’s something...uncertain about his butler,” this concern nagged the back of your mind from the moment you got there. From the second he greeted you in flawless German and subtly as each day passed on. Despite being the head butler of the estate, he was too capable at some points- always being prepared when you and the Earl requested tea or hot chocolate in the dead of night, answering questions that you purposely keep from saying. His speed.

“Sebastian Michaelis?” Doña’s frown deepened, making her look at least five years older. Creases from constant scowling marred the corners of her lips and between her symmetrical eyebrows. “We discussed his role in Phantomhive’s life. You said-” her accent butchered the Earl’s name, turning the i into an e, which resulted in his name sounding more like Phantomheave, rather than Phantomhive.

“Doña, I’m aware of what I told you,” you hissed as she brought the flute of spiked coffee to her lips and drank again. “I said that he wouldn’t present an obstacle to my objective.”

“And yet?” She asked, goading your temper, tempting you to take the drink out of her hands and dump the rest of its steaming contents down her nightgown. Your fingers curled into fists, as you compelled yourself to stay seated on the couch. Your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, the sensation tolerable, but something to focus on, nevertheless.

“And yet, I’m reassessing my strategy because of him,” you lied. Sebastian made for a decent excuse, above all of his other uses.

A brief moment of silence passed before she asked, “must I eliminate him for you, Y/n? It would be a shame to need to aid my hired killer-...almost as distressing as wasting a handsome face such as his, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Looks have nothing to do with anything, Doña,” you ignored the turn of her curt grin while she finished off the rest of her carajillo with a sigh. She put the empty glass on the low table that sat in between the two of you, the bottom landing with a soft clink. “If I have to kill Sebastian Michaelis, I will do it myself.”

“We can share tactics with you,” Diego offered from the side of the room, where he and Carmen were standing. The baby had stopped wailing several minutes ago, moments after Andrea returned from putting your horse away. “You seem as if you need many,” he teased, sharing a patronizing laugh with Doña. At your glare, his face sobered, although a smile seemed to taunt the corners of his lips.

“Your tactics,” you scoffed, “what skill does it take to pull the trigger of a gun?” You could recall the weight of the handgun you had used at fourteen, successfully killing two men within minutes of each other. How could Diego pride his reliance on a weapon?

“You bitch! You’ll, you’re going to bloody p--” James screamed, glowering at you as he struggled to get his fumbling hands in place. But he was too slow. He fell to the ground, blood beginning to blossom near his lower ribs.

“You’re a clever one, Princess,” Diego chuckled, showing the palms of his hands in defeat. “I might ask you for tactics for how you look so detached,” he quipped, shaking his shoulders to create an animated shiver.

“Princesa de Hielo,” Carmen mumbled, which caused Doña to laugh again, the effects of rum beginning to seep into her cold personage. Her deep brown eyes settled back on you, hardening as you met her gaze. Eye contact was quite a fragile social concept- you weren’t confident with Spanish customs, but in Germany, it expressed attentiveness but in excess it expressed pride.

“The two of you...go retrieve Y/n’s horse. She’s souring the atmosphere,” Doña shifted on the couch to turn her back to you, and the liquid in her glass flute hit the side and slid down again. There wasn’t much to the drink when you sat down in the first place and now, the glass was nearly empty.

Doña waited for Diego and Carmen to leave before she lazily got to her feet and stood before you, her expression sobering as if she hadn’t finished off her drink. With her proximity, you could smell the faint tinge of rum from her lips. “And as for you- I want him dead. I don’t care how it’s done- simply finish him off and you’ll have your compensation. Do you understand?”

Her pupils were nearly swallowed whole by her umber irises, the threat in them ever-present.

. . .

FEBRUARY 15TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Within the first few minutes of riding back to the Phantomhive Estate, snow began to fall, dropping from the clouds in fat flurries that rolled down your neck and made it nearly impossible to see fifteen feet in front of you. The wind whistled in your ears as you encouraged Autumn to continue her steady gait, even as the snow began to stick on the cobblestone streets of the city.

The distance from the manor to the heart of the city was sizable without the beginnings of a blizzard, but the horse’s hesitation, as well as your own, had severely delayed your arrival time. In fact, by the time you were scaling the wall of the manor, the sun was beginning to ascend the horizon, starting the day as the snow continued to pile and stick. Your fingers were numb since you had to remove your thick gloves to properly cling to the stones that jutted out of the main house’s foundation, leaving them vulnerable to the sharp surfaces and cold air. You were lucky that your quarters were located on the second floor, but that wouldn’t matter if Mey-Rin found the room empty upon entering to wake you.

The moment you reached the window beside your bed, you swung one leg over the still and then the other, reveling in the fact that you had, in fact, managed to return before Mey-Rin entered to wake you. Your trembling hands made messy work of tearing off the sides of the gown that were pinned to the stays on your coset, letting each piece of your riding habit fall carelessly to the floorboards until you were left standing in your corset that sat over your white shift- the base of any dress. Unlacing it was never this challenging when you sported middle-class clothing articles, leaving you to tug at the strands that kept the constrictive item together as several pairs of footsteps began to grow closer to the closed door of your quarters.

Your front teeth sunk into the inside of your lip as your descent into panic worsened with each passing second, fruitlessly attempting to untie the knots that you had secured yourself. Clearly, you had made some kind of mistake in re-dressing yourself prior to leaving for Doña’s new home.

This was exactly what you had feared.

“And you absolutely certain she isn’t here, Mey-Rin?” Sebastian’s posh voice questioned, moments before the door swung open, revealing you half-dressed and positioned in front of your open window. Mey-Rin and Sebastian were behind the Earl, the maid’s eyes glassy as if she was about to cry, and the butler’s face completely impassive, like a statue’s. Instantaneously, the Earl’s gaze fled to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere as long as it wasn’t on you.

Your hands fell to your sides and in the most delayed reaction, you exclaimed, “raus!” (out!). You turned your back to the doorway and hugged yourself.

“I believe she is far from missing, thank you,” the Earl’s voice was steadier than you would have anticipated, “my apologies, Your Highness,” the sound of rapid steps that implied his and Sebastian’s departure down the corridor followed as you released a weak exhale.

“I came to wake you and you were missin’, yes you were,” Mey-Rin said . “I assumed the worst, I’m sorry Your Highness.” she asked for permission to undo the thick knots that you couldn’t undo. You nodded once, facing her as she nimbly undid each one. “The young master is going to want to know where you were off to...he was awfully concerned havin’ just returned from Lady Elizabeth’s…” if Mey-Rin wasn’t paid to fuss over you, you might’ve pitied her.

“I love the snow. I wanted to be outside on my own- I thought I could return before you notice I went out,” you explained, the lie was on the tip of your tongue from the moment you fell behind your plan. Mey-Rin breathed a sigh of relief and began to properly lace the corset and fasten a new stomacher, this one was a deep shade of red, resembling claret with its notes of magenta. The rest of the gown matched the shade.

“The snow is much prettier here in the countryside," Mey-Rin agreed as she continue to prepare you for the rest of the day; twisting your hair into another tight bun, brushes of powder over your face and shoulders and gentle hands of rogue on the apples of your cheeks. Within several strokes of a brush, your familiar blemishes disappeared- like a wave of a magic wand.

Each step from your room to the main dining room maximized the nostalgic pit in your stomach. You sat to the Earl’s side at the breakfast table, as per usual. He was uncharacteristically quiet, leisurely lifting his steaming cup of tea to his lips and taking a long drink, his eye having yet to properly leave you. Lord Phantomhive did well to remind you of Governess Lydia and the countless instances you were scolded by the woman after an unbearably long silence.

As a grown woman, you were too old for this.

“Lord Phantomhive-” you started, only to be swiftly interrupted by the loud clunk that punctuated when he aggressively returned his teacup to its saucer on the table. Droplets of tea ran down the porcelain and pooled on the small dish. What waste.

His voice was fatally calm and as per usual, each word was punctuated to the syllable. “I am entrusted with your life, Your Highness. I thought it was clear that you aren’t to leave this estate unaccompanied without myself or Sebastian,” he said, “My duty to Her Majesty is to protect you to the extent of my capabilities and beyond that.”

“I was within the perimeter of this estate!” You countered, your hand pausing as you were about to spread a healthy bit of margarine over the head of a muffin, that Sebastian had decapitated for you. Instead, the continent fell from the smooth blade of your knife in a heap before you began to spread it. “If that is your grievance with this morning, then your contention is certainly misplaced. It should not be a crime for me to wish to be outside. Alone.”

“Your Highness, there is a death threat over your head. Your going outside unaccompanied is a point of contention for me, yes,” the Earl said, as if this information should have been obvious. Granted it made logical sense- defenseless royalty needed to remain within lines of defense, however, you posed as a needy princess who was unacquainted with the concept of no. “If you are so fascinated with snow, a commonality in your home country, then you might wait to ask-”

“Thank you for your concern,” you intervened icily, aware that you had waged a losing battle from the moment you protested. “Keep in mind that it’s quite easy for the walls of this mansion to grow dull, My Lord.”

. . .

FEBRUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The world outside of the windows was blank- completely grey and white. For the third day in a row, you were trapped indoors, hiding from the dense blizzard and idly roaming the layout of the estate. Every single room was familiar to you now- studied not once, but multiple times, making it simple for you to find the source of the rich violin that reverberated throughout the second floor of the mansion. Each step you grew closer to the frantic melody, vaguely aware of how clumsily you moved from the haste of your curiosity. The dramatic violin picked up, growing louder, steadier and more urgent the closer you came. The violin belonged to a special place within your battered heart- the noise caused goosebumps to erupt up and down your arms, despite the plentiful warmth that generated throughout the manor.

From under the closed door, a metronome prudently clicked away and your fingers immediately tapped against your petticoat in response, corresponding with it as your eyes stared into the painted wood of the door in front of you, your dominant hand resting on the gold knob.

One and a two, one and a two, one and a two...

The piece was executed flawlessly- until a new passage began and gradually fell behind the tics of the metronome and your fingers as they continuously tapped your skirt. It wasn’t long until the instrument abruptly paused, leaving the mansion to silence once again.

“Your technique leaves much to be desired, which is why you fell behind. Perhaps a proper audience might motivate you, sir,” Sebastian suggested, his voice muffled by the door. You were in the process of turning back to the library to continue the book you had abandoned to stretch your legs, but instead, Sebastian opened the door behind you.

“Your Highness, it would be a privilege for my master to entertain you with his most recent selection: J.S Bach’s Partita for Violin Solo,” Sebastian explained, forgoing his typical use of German, “it would be terribly rude to allow you to listen from outside as he would otherwise have it,” he said pointedly, showing you to a plush loveseat as the Earl stood, his violin and bow poised in hand while he glowered at the score on the music stand in front of him.

“I appreciate it,” you took the offered seat and watched as Sebastian started the metronome once again and pushed up his glasses, which seemed special to his role as a tutor.

“Again, from the twelfth line. This time, perhaps watch your spiccato and left hand articulation- the aim is to hear every note unequivocally, yet remain up to speed,” Sebastian said, but you suspected that the Earl had properly tuned him out in order to prepare to lift the violin and prepare to play again.

Your gaze was drawn to his fingers as they danced along the neck of the violin, pressing and moving every second with the tact of a seasoned player. In the light, the gems on his rings winked as the light’s perspective on them changed as he played. It was mesmerizing in a sense, watching the Earl focus on one task entirely. His eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully, drawing closer together during more difficult areas of the piece. You watched his expression remain the same during each time he ran through the section that Sebastian requested as he slowly worked through the tense parts until the butler excused himself in order to begin the preparations for supper.

“Have you played for long?” you asked, watching as he loosened the string of his bow and began to wipe it with a small, neatly folded cloth.

“About four years now, I believe,” he cautiously laid the bow and the violin to rest in their case. “Do you play?”

“No,” you said, without thinking. “I am much more partial to the harp- my sister played the violin,” you attempted to maintain the neutrality in your face upon recognizing your mistake. Marie was a mediocre violinist, which meant that the proper answer would have been ‘yes, but not quite so well’. Instead, you implied that Marie was a harpist and the missing, presumably dead princess played the violin. It was a fact that the royal family did not understand until you had left and there was no one playing the harp in the castle. However, it was not common knowledge that either princess had proficiency with the harp in the first place.

He wouldn’t catch such an inconspicuous mistake.

“The harp,” Lord Phantomhive mused, as if the thought amused him. “Fitting, I reckon.”

Frankly, you couldn’t remember the last time you touched the delicate strings of a harp, the sensation of their vibrations against your fingertips. As a girl, it was the only outlet that you could express yourself without breaking any rules- for the most part, at least.

. . .

The thick blankets of puffy snow on the ground made it so even the postage arrived late that evening, since roads leading to the countryside out of the city had yet to be cleared. Thus, the Earl flipped through the Westminster Review and you pretended to consciously read the English Woman’s Journal post-supper, between taking turns in a slow-moving chess game, rather than reading through the news at the breakfast table.

You absentmindedly fiddled with the corner of the thin printed paper as you instead watched the Earl regard the ornate chess set that sat in the middle of you, his side black and yours white. For the second time that day, you were met with his face of complete thought and focus- even if the game was already won on his part.

Frankly, the Earl was an aggressive player and you weren’t accustomed to someone who played sharply and meticulously at once. Not to mention, the last time you played chess, you were about twelve and huddled up in layers of clothing inside, attempting to stay warm in the conman’s measly shack as the two of you hid from the winter that nipped at your noses. “Checkmate,” he sounded as if he was much too accustomed to saying it. The smug tilt of his head merely exaggerated the false humility of his.

Even though you expected him to make that exact move, your shoulders slumped anyway as you huffed impertinently. You were never the best at losing graceful; not in the castle, not with the conman and certainly not by yourself. Especially coming off of your second loss that night.

“This evening was the first as well as the last time I’m playing chess as your opponent, Lord Phantomhive,” you rolled your eyes, tentatively scoffing as you began to reset the board, abandoning the newspaper entirely.

“Competitive, Your Highness?”

“Everyone is,” you responded, “the nature of humanity is to win; be it a war, or a simple game of chess. I despise any loss and I’m certain you feel the same, My Lord,” you ignored the piqued quirk of his eyebrow to properly finish setting the pieces to their starting square.

“I do fit the requisites by simply being anyone- or a human, at the very least,” Lord Phantomhive seemed almost too amused by the statement- and the entendre went above your head. What was the alternative to not being human? You weren’t one to believe in anything you could not see and if there in fact, gods and demons among civilization, surely you might have attracted one, given the life you led. However, you didn’t entertain the thought beyond a stoic chuckle. “Why don’t we begin the next round, best out of five?” he suggested.

“You’re only after the satisfaction of winning five matches against me. Two ought to be plenty,” you accused, not that you blamed him. If your strategic mind could translate to ornate pieces on a board as it did with your profession, then you would happily play the Earl time and time again simply to win.

“Fine, then. Why don’t you choose the next game?” Lord Phantomhive gestured lazily towards the armoire that stood against the wall. Sebastian opened it earlier to retrieve the chess pieces from their velvet box and among the shelves were several boxes of games- several produced by the Funtom Company. Picking one of those would be nearly an instantaneous loss, considering he had a hand in creating it. You decided to settle on a classic and gingerly pulled the box that was labeled draughts.

Draughts was an easier game in comparison to chess- while each had clear winning objectives, draughts was a straightforward game- capture the opponent’s pieces with your own. Each had equal strength until later in the game, whereas chess was a complex strategic war from the start. Playing draughts, there was much less room for error as games ought to be. Besides, you took pleasure in watching the Earl struggling to move pieces with equal power across the board while you played checkers countless of times against the conman and his friends, on the occasion.

Before you could finish the rest of your newspaper (the poetry bit was rather strenuous to get through), one of your double-stacked pieces- a king- double jumped his, decisively ending the first game of checkers of the night. “I thought you would show more of a fight, My Lord,” you scooped a victorious hunk out of the cheesecake that Sebastian delivered minutes prior. The rich Quark cheese was sweet, marrying the tart raspberry compote that was drizzled on top, syrupy in nature as it pooled around the remnants of the cake slice.

“Chess and draughts require different sets of strategies,” Lord Phantomhive responded, feigning nonchalance so as to take the loss civilly but nevertheless, he wore his frustration on his tightly pursed lips and a lack of eye contact which he normally provided in excess. “I’d bet I could win the next round now that I’m...acquainted with your style of playing.”

“Fine,” you aquised, “one last round for tonight because I simply must see you defeated again.”

. . .

FEBRUARY 24TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

If this pedal harp had eyes, it would have glared at you from across the music room. It was taller than you- glorious and intimidating, the dozens of strings perhaps daring you to pluck at them. The column was made of solid gold and with Lord Phantomhive’s fortune, you could assume that it was as genuine as the rest of the novelties that lived among the estate. This harp was perhaps the most intricate one you had ever laid eyes on, besting the rich mahogany instrument that you learned on as a girl. It was mandatory for the princesses of Schleswig-Holstein to practice womanly, demere hobbies and paradoxically, Marie was by far the worst violinist in Europe in spite of displaying every other desirable trait a young princess could wish to emote.

You were the most gifted musician out of the four heirs to the German throne, which was a fact that Governess Lydia preferred to keep to herself. Nobody needed to know that it was Glücksburg Castle’s Devil Child who was producing fiercely beautiful Mozart concertos from the confinement of her quarters after a good repremandment for misbehavior.

“My master requested this pedal harp to be handcrafted for you by George W. Lyon and Patrick Healy, the founders of Lyon and Healy- an overseas company that qualifies as the cornerstone of quality instrument creation. He corresponded closely with the two men over the past week,” you could hear Sebastian’s overly saccharine simper, even as you closely inspected the floral engravings that decorated the harp’s crown, straight down to its foot. The golden column must have been polished recently but even so, it couldn’t completely outshine the work that was put into styling the harp’s wooden soundboard and the neck, which was its signature concave top. “I do hope it's to your satisfaction- the Lord Phantomhive was eager to present it himself, however-”

“He is occupied with hosting his emergent business meeting,” you interrupted haphazardly. The Earl wouldn’t care about the Funtom Company once he was dead and besides, you couldn’t seem to find out why water damage within a single cacao refinery was such a major issue. There were dozens of cacao refineries that Lord Phantomhive funded- nosing through his official documents had told you so. “Well...think nothing of it, I suppose.”

“Of course,” Sebastian bowed, his hand over his heart, “your leniency is much appreciated, Your Highness.”

“I would appreciate being left to my own about now,” your fingertips brushed over a red string, which indicated that it was a C. On the harp, the strings were colored, indicating different notes and as if in a trance, you were tempted to play more of them as Sebastian left the room.

The blue strings were F strings, A string was the string in the middle of the groups of three, if your memory served you well. It had been about a decade since you last touched one with the intent to sit down and play. You doubted you could, the longer you stared at the abundance of strings and yet, you claimed the upholstered chair behind it anyhow, sitting down. You cautiously pulled the harp back towards you until you found its balance point and allowed it to rest gently against your chest- practically weightless.

Your the rest of your body seemed to recognize this more than your mind as you subconsciously repositioned the front of the harp to angle it. You could hear Lydia’s seething tone telling you to keep your arms “Halten Sie Ihre Arme in einem Winkel von 45 Grad zur Senkrechten!” (Keep your arms 45 degrees from the vertical!) properly from your body, your wrists curving gently towards the strings.

Playing the harp was your escape as a child and there you were, once again in need of an escape. Being in a strenuous position with no clear course of action...maybe you hadn’t grown nearly as much as you thought you had.

Or at all.

The back of your neck provided an affirmative stab, causing you to bite your bottom lip, paying the chapped skin over it no mind. Ignoring the reality of the situation, did you well- it chased away nightmares, the interrupting thoughts and ironically, you were sitting before an instrument that used to help you do just that. Except, all it was doing for you then was stir thoughts and memories that could have used to remain secluded for at least one more day.

“Mozart himself would have treasured your talent, dear girl,” Ida, one of the many maids that were assigned to prepare your sister for important events said. She was tying the back of Marie’s dress from the back, the satin laces a deep abrugene to match the rest of the garment. For young girls, clothing was quite simple- pinafores, dresses, sensible flats or boots. You weren’t introduced to the horrors of training crinolines and corsets until it was the year you went missing and stayed that way.

“It was nothing, Ida,” Marie-Louise yawned, extending her hand out to another maid, Lotte for her to slide a lace glove onto it, pulling it up to reach her forearm. The team of three maids worked around her like bees in a hive, hovering and flitting about, making useless conversation to please a girl who was nowhere near half of their age. “Music comes easy to me.”

No, it didn’t. The extent of Marie’s musical ability was to pick up a violin and brandish the bow, only to force the poor instrument to squeal about a few noises before she gave up. Marie liked everything to come easy to her- she liked to be a natural talent, a prodigy with anything she attempted.

Music came easily to you, but within the walls of Glücksburg Castle, all you knew how to accomplish was wreak havoc and delay plans. It didn’t make sense for music to come easily to you and so, no one believed you, no matter what you said or how you said it.

“They ought to organize a recital for you, Your Highness. Her Majesty would adore hearing you play,” Lotte suggested with a smile that seemed forced- like clothespins were pinching the corners of her lips and cheeks in place.

“Why do that when Mr. Brahms and Mr. Strauss performed for us already?” You couldn’t help but interject, their words irking you as you stood on the other side of the large quarters- in front of your own separate vanity and armoire. Two other maids, Emery and Katharina were assigned to you were also whisking around you like overeager bees, but they didn’t bother to coddle your self esteem. You appreciated that they did their job and silently at that. Nothing could convince you to forget the disappointment that furrowed their faces when they learned that they would be tended to you instead of your mother or your sister. They were treated with stiff contempt from the minute they introduced themselves in lieu of it. “They’re musical geniuses and you’re a princess.”

A lying princess, at that.

You were asked to remain looking forward while Emery caked your face and neck in thick powder and rouge and Katharina tied a chain of pearls around it. It was the exact ensemble that your sister’s team was assembling for her, except Ida and Lotte were much less time-efficient. The point was, Marie-Louise was free to face and glare at the side of your head, her seven-year-old mind trying to formulate a witty, yet tactful response.

“You’re a princess as well, Helena,” Marie-Louise hissed, “but you just can’t ever be normal and act like one.” It always had to come down to that, didn’t it.

“Just when did Governess Lydia teach us to lie in Etiquette Class?” You turned to your sister, which was admittedly, the equivalent of staring at a scowling mirage of yourself, who seemed to be on the verge of shedding frustrated tears. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest. “I must have properly missed such a lesson, considering everybody seems to abide by it.”

“Please, that is quite enough, miss. Supper is nearing and we wouldn’t want to present you both late. Poor form is unbecoming,” Ida, the most experienced maid only scolded you in the process of intervening. That was to be expected.

You didn’t respond and simply allowed Emery to part and braid your hair into a tight bun as Katharina secured your boots in tense silence. Most of your life up to that point was in tense, furthering silence anyway and yet, the royal family had the audacity to be surprised when you fled.

Supper was always the same. Your older brothers, Albert and Christian sat prudently on one side of the table, you and Marie-Louise were across from them and your mother was absent, visiting the Hampton Court Palace to see the Royal School of Needlework to its opening, since she was its first president. While she was one of the most active people in the royal family in charity work, her duty as a mother ended the moment she pushed the twins out of her womb.

“Helena,” Christian said, acting as if he had lived through the many experiences of a king in only sixteen years. “Your Royal Guard came looking for you in the cricket field this morning- again. Where were you off to today?”

“I was with Hanna,” you lied, puncturing the rough exterior of the sausage on your plate with the tip of your knife before properly slicing it. In truth, you hid yourself in the stables because the animals were better company that anyone on castle grounds. “We were-”

“When did Governess Lydia teach us to lie in Etiquette Class?” Marie-Louise mimicked your words from prior, purposely making a mockery of your voice as she scrunched her nose. “Thora went out to sit with the pigs and the filth, Christle,” she explained employing the frankly bothersome, nicknames that your grandmother started.

Christian ignored her and instead gave your father a long look, trying to get him to instead chastise you but to no avail. His Majesty was much too occupied with attempting to stab a piece of sausage whilst reading a letter. Kingly duties- and this was what your older brothers wished to embody.

“It’s getting cold. If you’re so compelled to ignore your duties, may as well do it safely,” Christian mumbed gruffly, causing Albert to snicker in turn. Albert had the right of it as you fought a grin, setting your utensils down to signify that you were finished with your meal- the tips of your fork and knife met on an angle at the top of your plate, similar to a triangle.

“Very well, Christle,” you stood up from your chair, breaking the code of the highest ranking individual needing to finish his meal before anyone else left the dining table. In which case, that would be your father who was still satisfying himself with a serving of knödeln- potato dumplings. He mouthed each word that he read because it was likely written in French or English. “I ought to go to amuse myself, then.”

You showed yourself back to your quarters, Ida’s pleas for you to return to the meal and properly wait for His Majesty to end it. You hesitated in front of the closed door, the impertinent anger from your sister’s mere existence returned in seconds, causing you to impulsively go to the games room, where the harp was kept, and do exactly as you were forbidden to.

You were forbidden from playing while Marie-Louise was occupied elsewhere- a rule that Lydia had threatened you over. But the moment that servants understood that it was your mastery that filled the castle corridors, they would detest it. Marie-Louise could live with being a little less affable in their eyes and even if she could not…

Some deserved not to.

You opened your eyes, unconscious to when they had closed. Your fingers froze, the skin on them raw and burning familiarly, your wrists protesting the angle you held them at. Your hands trembled having expertly recalled the daringly simple melody of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major, but before you could try to recall some piece by Liszt (the name was lost to you), Mey-Rin entered which was likely for the better. You were prepared to sit on that chair until your fingers bled, in spite of what it made you recall.

“Lunch is about ready,” Mey-Rin’s eyes were red and bleary, but you made no effort to question it, thankful that she refrained from commenting on your playing. “Are you feelin’ alright ma’am? You’ve gone a bit red.”

“Yes, thank you. I might’ve overexerted myself,” you suggested, which was true. Your head pounded the moment you tried to stand.

“Why don’t I bring it all up to your room,” she offered, “you just rest.” She briefly looked down at her boots, presumably checking the laces because tripping was quite a common occurrence for her. How the fragile antiques that Lord Phantomhive collected remained whole was beyond you when the only maid was a clumsy and slightly gullible...täuschen, or half-wit, as the conman might’ve said. But in this case, she had a point. Nothing sounded more appealing than having lunch alone in your room- without his (snarky) Lordship.

. . .

There were no time constraints at the estate- absolutely none that told you when you could play or when you couldn’t.

This was exactly how you found yourself before the harp once after your nightly routine concluded. You were pulling the harp back to lean on your shoulder like a woman possessed, hungry for control of some kind. Whether it be dragging the blade of a knife across your victim’s throat or more realistically, pulling the strings of a brilliant instrument that must have cost half of a fortune to commission. Besides, if you killed Lord Phantomhive, you would have to leave before having at least a few more chances to make the beautiful instrument sing.

The hour called for something demure, rather than you experimenting with what your muscle memory could or could not conjure. You immediately began with Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major once again, willing your gaze to remain on your hands, actively fighting off any intersecting train of thought while you played. You focused on every flick of your wrists, the shift of your slipper on the pedals all while your hands knew exactly where they needed to be and when.

At least they did before the shrill vibrato of a violin interjected the alto hum made by your harp. It came from the next room over, the Earl’s office, no less clearer than it would have been from a few feet in front of you. The violin took the melody that you willingly surrendered for the sake of keeping the piece uncluttered and subtle, as it was intended to be.

This was how Lydia wanted an accompaniment between you and Marie to play out- you vaguely recalled the sheet music that she painfully attempted to teach her. Clearly, your counterpart was never able to grasp the music well enough and the accompaniment never took place- even after you embarrassed her that night. After your father dismissed your siblings, she came to the music room and had an... entirely becoming temper tantrum in your face- such a display would have ended with you being locked in a closet for several hours. Ida simply escorted her back to the quarters you shared and made her a glass of chamomile tea to calm her down.

As the piece came to a mutual decrescendo, it slowly faded away, ending with a soft glissando. It was unlike Lord Phantomhive to give you the last word without so much as the irked look or in this case, an irked trill.

Tags:

#ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel x reader #black butler #black butler fanfic #strangers to lovers #anime fanfiction #murder #angst #historical fiction #historical romance #victorian era #the indignant pawn

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ficforce · 4 years

Text

Little Wound Part 1

Joker x Little Lady Reader SFW There will be mentions of noncon and other abuse in this and the coming chapters

Joker stared up at the steel ceiling, his eye was unfocused as his mind drifted back to the rooftop nearly three months before. He wasn’t sure how he had survived because he had been pretty far gone; it was a miracle he had even been able to get a signal out to Licht. He loved her. He loved her so much and he had ruined her life because of his selfish desire to be free. He tried to recall her happy smiles and the way she would tell him off but the images kept morphing into her dead stare and her cruel words. She didn’t love him back, it had all been a lie to get close to him and slip a knife between his ribs. “I changed your IV drip - ya know I’m not this kinda doctor, right? I’m the experimenting kind.” Licht tapped on the rail of the hospital bed they had acquired, “The actual doctor did say you should start getting up and about… start eating more.” It didn’t take a genius - even though he was one - to realise the Joker was depressed. He had to be. Joker hadn’t left the hideout once since they had set up the bed, borrowed some simple hospital monitoring equipment, they also acquired blood and medicine for him. They had other allies working with them, all of them trying to work out why people kept catching fire - one of those people was a surgeon and he had barely saved the man’s life. “You can’t find the truth laying on your back.” “This word sucks, the truth just makes it suck more…” “But you wanted to find out why it sucked, remember?” This wasn’t his friend, this wasn’t the awkward, dangerous man he knew, “So you’re gonna just wait for the world to burn? Become a different kind of shadow that disappears into the dark all alone?” Nothing. Not a twitch. Joker turned his head away from Licht, figuring he’d disappear if he hoped long enough. “Damn it, Joker!” his fist hit the rail and the metal hinges of the bed squeaked, “Get up and do something - every second you waste in that bed is another second Y/N is trapped.” A sharp inhale followed by a shaky breath out was the only reaction he gave outwardly. The words stung but they did start a wheel turning in his head, one that hadn’t turned in three months, Y/N was trapped. She was likely back with the shadows under the Holy Sol Temple. Going through the hell he had run away from and damned her to. “Get outta here… I’m tired.”

x - -

‘You never belonged to the shadows’ Sometimes those words echoed around his head. Some of her parting words to him and he didn’t know if she was rejecting him or comforting him. Joker relived the night over and over, every word, every detail until he started to realise the minuscule things. Like the fact she had stabbed him in a way that deliberately missed his heart. She would have known exactly where to land a killing blow but she didn’t; she had nearly killed him. She hadn’t finished the job either. She had told him that she wanted him to remember her being different and special - not part of the collective. She didn’t want to be with the Shadows. She wanted to be free just like him and he wished he had recognised the pain in her eyes - the tension in her jaw. ‘The Captain always finds fault with me’ Joker knew what she meant because he had experienced it. He should have stormed tin there a year earlier and saved her, instead, he had felt sorry for himself whilst the Captain did Sol only knew what to her. Because she was his replacement, because he had tainted the Five-Two name.

Breaking into the Holy Sol Temple with Benimaru had been to seek the truth but it was also a partial rescue mission. However, when Joker saw those dead green eyes of the man who beat and violated him day in and day out, who had ordered the murder of the family who had taken him in and forced him out of the sun again… He forgot all about Y/N and set Benimaru loose on the Shadows. The very idea of finally ripping out the bastard’s heart gave him the edge, his hatred of the Captain and what he had done - not only to him - gave Joker an odd kind of joy.

A pained yelp went through Joker’s ear like an arrow and he felt a heated blade catch his leg. This wasn’t the time to get distracted but the sound had caught him off guard and his head whipped around to see Benimaru kick one of the masked assassins in the stomach to send them skidding along the floor. They weren’t supposed to make a sound, even if their bones were snapped. Joker lit up three cards to deflect his opponent’s whip sword, keeping his eye on the other whilst shouting over to the other man, “Oi, not that one, Mr Almighty - I got business with the Little Lady.” Maybe it would be considered cheating; the way he had used a hallucinogenic on the Captain. Scaring the shit out of the man before dicing him up into pieces. Dead was dead.

Joker took a deep breath and straightened out his clothing, the adrenaline was buzzing under his skin from finishing off his once Captain, a man who had been hard to erase from his scarred mind and nightmares. However, things just weren’t that easy, now he had to deal with Leonard Burns and he was out of drugged up cigarettes. “Really?” He turned to face his old acquaintance, “So to get the holy scriptures, I’ll have to defeat you…”

“For someone who has been hiding in the shadows, this is pretty daring of you.” Captain Burns wasn’t surprised to see who had been causing all the trouble, there were only a few people as dumb as Joker to attach the Church head-on.

The dark-haired man spread out his hands and called up his cards, “That’s because I don’t want the truth to stay hidden…”

Leonard took a breath and beckoned to him, “Come.”

They were at the ready to fight and then Benimaru’s voice broke the heavy tension, “Sounds like fun. Let me join the fight too.” There was a long pause, a three-man standoff that ended with Leonard turning his back on them and declining to fight - much to Joker’s surprise. It had been a strange turn of events but now Joker had a neutral ally in the church and more evidence that something stank in the Empire. That just left his other business… Y/N’s body shook uncontrollably in the corner Benimaru had forced her into, he had tied up her wrists and around her body to secure her arms to her sides, “Whatever it was that you used to send these bastards mad also affected her, figured I’d tie her up for her own safety.” The younger man crossed his arms and watched silently as Joker knelt beside the assassin to remove the faceless, white mask, he could see that the woman’s eyes were blown wide and tears streamed down her cheeks - he wondered what she was seeing in her head.

Joker’s voice was quiet, his tone soft as he started to undo the ties, noting that they were quite intricate knots that indicated Benimaru had certain hobbies with ropes, he smiled gently as he eyes tried to focus on his face, “Hey there, Little Lady. You’re a bit high but I promise it’ll wear off in a few minutes.” Her eyes widened all of a sudden and Joker flinched as she began to scream, Y/N’s legs kicked at him and began begging for her life. “Please, please don’t kill me! Not like that, don’t cut me up into pieces! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I- I’ll… I’ll do it myself but please -!” She had betrayed him, she had played his heart and his mind, poured her drink over him as he bled out; she deserved his punishment but she couldn’t stand being tortured anymore. “I’m begging you… Please…” Y/N’s voice began to break and she was sobbing too hard to be understood.

Joker stared at her in silence. Watching the woman he still loved fall to pieces and begging for a swift death. He pulled a playing card out of his breast pocket and lit it up - she had always liked his card tricks before but the sound of the burning card only seemed to terrify her more. Y/N cowered into herself, her freed hands covered her head as she buried it into her knees. “Tch!” Benimaru’s click was loud enough to be heard over Y/N’s whimpering and he stepped closer to them, the air rippling with heat as his crimson eyes lit up, “Revenge is fine but I’m not gonna let you fuck up some woman who’s already given up.”

“Relax, Mr Almighty, I’m not planning on hurting her…” The card went out and Joker sighed almost sadly as he watched her, “This was a rescue mission too.” Reaching out, he stroked her head lightly, pointedly ignoring her increased sobbing as the man tried to offer her some sort of comfort, “It’s just the hallucinogenic making everything worse.” Feeling Benimaru come off the offensive Joker began to hum some nonsense song to Y/N, picking her up into his arms once he realised she was paralysed with fear - it was time to leave the Shadows and monsters behind.

#joker/52 #reader #fire force #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai #garth ennis

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fanatic-author · 4 years

Text

Murder Is Not On The Agenda

Rating: T (swearing) Warnings: swearing Category: Gen Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi & Shigaraki & Toga Language: English Words: 2,162 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Three villains go on an ice cream run in the middle of the night and absolutely nothing goes wrong. Yeah, right.

Read it here on AO3!

“Tomura, I think I’m dying.” Toga moaned where she lay spread out on the couch.

“Shut the fuck up.” he replied, not even bothering to look at her. He had the electric fan, and everyone else could suck it.

“Tomura.” Dabi whined from his spot on the floor.

“What.”

“I think I’m dying.”

“Sucks.”

The fact of the matter was, it was nearly 30 degrees and almost 11 o clock at night, which meant it was hot with no sign of cooling off anytime soon. And with 7 people sharing a space, it was getting unbearable.

“Shiggy, give me the fan. Kurogiri tell Shiggy it’s my turn with the fan!”

“Eat my ass, bitch.”

Compress was fanning himself with his mask; trench coat, top hat, and even balaclava removed in the intense heat. Spinner was no better, elaborate stain costume stashed somewhere not on his body in favor of as little clothing as possible. When questioned about why a reptile which was typically cold blooded had to cool off , they were met with double fingers and a grumbled “I’m human underneath the scales.”

The one probably faring the worst of all of them was Twice. He refused to take off his mask, and as such was gently being prodded by Kurogiri to periodically suck on ice cubes. The heat didn’t seem to have much an effect on the warper. Perks of being a living cloud, one supposed.

“Shiggy do somethiiiiiiiiing.” Toga continued whining, one hand fanning herself and the other laying listlessly off the couch.

“Do something? You want me to do something!? I don’t control the weather Toga! I don’t control the thermostat, or the pressure systems, or the tilt of the earth this time of the year!” he shouted.

“But you can control the tilt the rest of the year?” Dabi quipped, still lying vulnerable on the floor.

This vulnerability was immediately exploited by Tomura who launched himself across the room to body slam Dabi, a surprised and breathless “OOF” leaving him. The two of them began rolling around the floor, slapping and pinching the other, but they quickly fell apart in the overwhelming heat.

“I think I would give my left nut for that Todoroki kid’s ice quirk right about now.” Spinner said from his spot near the window, raising many questions regarding reptiles and nuts no one wanted to ask.

Dabi twitched but it was Toga who said “Man, I bet he can make ice cream whenever he wants!”

“That sounds like a hassle.” replied Spinner.

“What?”

“Making ice cream. Way easier to go buy some.”

“How?”

Dabi, Tomura, and Spinner all simultaneously replied “Money can be exchanged for goods and services.” Compress pinched his nose. Twice groaned in overheating agony.

“Maybe you should participate in our stimulating economy” Kurogiri said “and fetch the rest of us some ice cream.”

“You don’t even feel the heat.” retorted Tomura, but Toga and Dabi had already gotten to their feet, and compress was rifling through his wallet for what bills he had on hand.

“Get me an ice cream, none of that popsicle crap.” He said, giving Tomura the cash.

“Screw you.”

In the end it was only Tomura, Dabi, and Toga going because Twice was still too hot, Spinner argued he’d attract too much attention, and Compress was paying. Kurogiri made them walk because he was an ass, according to Tomura.

“We would attract so much attention if we warped to the 7-11 in the middle of the night.” Dabi pointed out “Like, they would call All Might out of retirement just to beat our ass.”

“I’d take him.” Tomura deadpanned.

“If you saw All Might’s emaciated form, you’d piss your pants running.”

It had been like this for the last fifteen minutes they’d spent walking in the muggy heat to nearest 24-hour convenience store, which when you were hiding from any and all levels of law enforcement, was not anywhere near where they lived. Whenever the conversation seemed to slow down, Toga interjected with just enough barb to get the argument rolling again.

“Fuck, marry, kill: All Might, Endeavor, Hawks”

“Kill all 3.” Tomura replied.

Toga stuck out her tongue at him “You’re no fun. Dabi?”

“Kill Endeavor, fuck Hawks, marry All Might. He’d treat me right.”

Toga swooned “Oh he would, wouldn’t he? Always coughing up blood...”

Tomura murmured “freak” under his breath, with only a teaspoon of malice. The three of them entered 7-11, identities hidden from the cameras (and prone to panicking cashiers) under face masks.

“Cuz this isn’t suspicious as all hell” Dabi muttered under his breath “Spinner should have had to come.”

The argument had been made that either spinner should have to come or Dabi should be allowed to stay, but Kurogiri insisted on adult supervision for the other 2, no matter Tomura was probably the oldest of the three of them, but he didn’t count because he was Tomura. Dabi had that kind of face that one would assume is older than it actually was, probably because of the horrific scar tissue.

The three of them gathered around the cooler, bills in hand, staring down the various cool treats.

“This is all gonna be melted by the time we get back anyway.” Toga pointed out.

Tomura said “Well the rest of them should have thought of that before giving us their money. Just grab whatever you want.” He proceeded to do so, plucking ice cream cones and popsicles from their icy shelves. Dabi wandered over to the slushy machine.

Toga grabbed a misshapen SpongeBob popsicle for herself, Tomura despite knowing it was a waste had grabbed three ice creams and one popsicle (for compress), Dabi was currently filling an extra-large slushy. None of the 3 paid particularly close attention to the overhead door bell jingling.

They did however, begin paying attention at the obnoxious voices that had made their way inside.

“Alright! Uraraka you are on candy duty, Kirishima! Retrieve the slushies! Midoriya, here is the ice cream list, and I shall get chips! Does everyone else have their lists? Reconvene here once you have gotten everything, or close alternatives if the first option is not available!”

There were various sounds of assent and agreement, which were largely missed by the two villains, too busy shitting their pants.

“What? How?” Toga whispered, already dropped to a crouch behind the cooler.

“I don’t know! Shut up!” Tomura hissed back, crouched behind Toga., the various treats shoved in his pockets. He had no qualms using her as a meat shield if spotted.

“Where’s Dabi?”

“He went to the slushy machine.”

They both peered around the cooler to look where Dabi had gone. Where’d he’d standing instead sat a lone, spilt, extra-large slushy.

“Oh my god they killed Dabi.” Toga whispered.

Tomura nodded in agreement “Well, let’s cut our losses and get out of here.”

“Man, fuck you guys.”

Both Tomura and Toga shrieked as Dabi came up behind them, and then immediately shushed the other. Unfortunately for the three villains hiding behind an ice cream cooler in a 7-11 in the middle of the night, stealth was not their forte. Quite frankly, not much was.

A nearby voice, rapidly getting louder, asked “Did you guys hear that?”

Neither of the three villains waited for their nemesis, one Midoriya Izuku aka the second coming of All Might himself to find them. Toga dashed to hide behind the shelves of snacks in the center of the store. Tomura and Dabi weighed their options, but the prospect of getting blown through a wall at Mach 3 had them quickly following.

Toga stood crouched in the beef jerky aisle, with the sound of The Uglier Sonic only one aisle over.

“We. Need. To. Get. Out. Of. Here.” Tomura bit, out as quietly as possible.

“I vote we use Toga as bait.”

“ Hey!”

Tomura shushed them both, all three of them listening to see if their conversation had attracted any unwanted attention.

“... and 3 bags of sour cream and onion, one of ketchup, and one of... Excuse me, Midoriya? Do you happen to know of the flavor “Chungus?” Kaminari requested a big bag of... why are you laughing?”

Dabi looked like he was going to have a stroke trying to contain his laughter.

“I love those stupid kids.” he said.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re trying to kill them.” Toga agreed.

Dabi looked to Tomura “So what’s the plan, boss? Light, and run?”

He shook his head “No, no way. I’m not dealing with these snot-nosed brats today. I just want to go home, and bitch about the heat some more. Murder was not, and is still not, on the agenda.”

Dabi carefully extinguished the blue flame in his hand “Ok, but we still need a way out.”

“Alright, boy wonder is at the ice cream cooler, Dwayne Johnson is at the slushy machine, Glinda is grabbing candy 3 aisles over, and we’re less than 2 feet from a speeding bullet. Anything in our way between us and the door?”

“No.” Dabi answered, right as Toga said “Yes.”

“What?”

Wordlessly she pointed, and there standing just outside the door was the worst one yet. Their homeroom teacher. Of course the kids couldn’t just go anywhere they liked off campus in the middle of the night, they had to be accompanied. He was probably making sure no one got in the store to hurt them.

“If this was an assassination attempt, we’d be killing it right now.” Dabi said.

Toga said “Ha. Pun.”

Tomura wanted to pull his hair out “We’re never this successful when we’re actually trying, what gives?”

The three of them put their heads together.

“Think they’ll give me a nicer cell if I sell you two out?” Dabi had a hand on his chin in contemplation.

Tomura hit him.

“I think stabbing is a viable solution.”

“I think one or more heroes is going to be scraping you off their knuckles if you try.”

“What if we got you to a wall? Make us a hole, then make a run for it?”

Tomura nodded “I could do it.”

The three of them began creeping towards the far end of the aisle, closest to an outer wall, when a large yelp, and a crashing sound made the three of them jump. Toga actually startled so hard she hit the shelf behind her, making a frankly impressive amount of noise considering. Thankfully it was drowned out by the sounds of alarm coming from the other occupants of the store.

“Ow...”

“Kirishima! are you alright?”

“Yeah, I slipped in some...”

“I’m coming!”

Then there was the familiar sound of engines revving, and then a very impressive crashing sound, followed by two pained cries this time.

“Dude, why?” one groaned.

“I apologize, I did not see the slushy on the ground.” The other moaned.

The front door bell chimed rather aggressively as the front door slammed open, a very menacing aura entering that had each person in that store reconsidering every decision that brought them there in that moment.

“What. Is. Going. On. Here?” A gruff voice asked, belonging none other than to one pissed off Eraserhead, a voice every villain in the league was familiar with by this point. It usually precluded getting your ass kicked.

All the students gathered around their fallen friends and began clamoring to explain themselves at once, voices shouting and pointing out facts and telling wildly outlandish tales of sabotage slushies on the ground. The volume of the group rose and rose as each member tried to talk over the other.

“Well that was easy. See ya, suckers.” Dabi said, dashing from his point of cover and out the door.

Toga quickly followed, and Tomura hesitated but as the group remained quite thoroughly distracted, he soon followed as well. No one inside noticed the three villains taking off in to the night.

“Holy shit!” Toga laughed outrageously, now several blocks from the convenience store, and lavishing in her nearly lost freedom. She jumped off the sidewalk, running around with her arms spread in malicious joy.

“Just so you guys know, I wouldn’t have actually sold you out for a better cell. Just so we’re clear.”

“Shut up while you’re ahead, Dabi”

Toga howled in joy “and I didn’t even have to pay for my ice cream!” She pulled out her SpongeBob popsicle, ripping the wrapper off to expose the misshapen face that was supposedly a cartoon character. She plopped it in her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Oh my god.” Tomura stuck his own hands in his pockets, pulling out the treats he’d shoved in there when this all began.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dabi plucked one of the packaged ice cream cones from his hand. Tomura didn’t even fight him for it, ripping open his own ice cream treat and digging in.

He couldn’t help chuckling “Those heroes helped us rob a convenience store.”

Dabi nodded “This is the best day of my life.”

#mha #bnha #lov found family #bnha fanfic #Dabi #shigaraki tomura #himiko toga #other lov characters make brief appearances #league of villains #heatwave #prompt: Someone goes to get icecream on a day they could cook a five course meal on the pavement.

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1275

When you were younger, did your mother or father ever let you open a few presents before Christmas or your birthday even arrived? We open all our presents the night of Christmas Eve to begin with; but no, they don’t tease by letting us open a few of them before our usual schedule.

If you could receive a 100 dollar gift card for either blouses, pants, dresses, shoes or purses, which would you chose? If I could change blouses to shirts, then I would go with that because I’ve recently gotten into t-shirts and sweatshirts and no longer the trendy and preppy tops I used to like haha. But if not, I would go for shoes.

What is your favorite thing to do after crying? Ex: Sleep, listen to music, have some alone time, talk to someone, etc? It varies as it depends on how much I cried. The harder I cried the more I’d want to sleep it off, because it can actually get pretty exhausting. Sometimes I’ll reach out, sometimes I write. It’s really different every time, but at the end I’m just glad I can no longer even remember the last time I cried out of sadness.

Do you think Trump will be assassinated, or will he survive his term? Well we know the answer to this. It’s satisfying to notice him disappear off the face of the Earth immediately after his term, though. I don’t have a clue what he’s up to now.

Last time you felt suicidal? For some reason I felt down last Thursday and I felt the slightest, slightest tinge of suicidal thoughts. No idea where it came from.

Last time you had butterflies? Ugh idk but it was probably BTS-related hahahahahahah

Biggest asshole you know? Certain politicians.

Did you ever leave someone because you know you’d hurt them? No, I was on the opposite side of the coin for this one. I was broken up with because they believed they would hurt me, if not already doing so.

What song did you last listen to? Hip Hop Phile by BTS.

Ever ridden in a police car? Nopes.

Ever witnessed a murder? Hmm, not that I can recall. I do remember having to monitor crime stories for one of my very first journalism assignments and the one time I didn’t tag along to the fieldwork with my classmates, they got to witness a stabbing incident :/ By itself of course it always sucks to have violent situations like those, but as a reporter it would’ve been interesting to see the scene and its aftermath.

Have you ever lied under oath? I don’t think so, no. I can’t even remember the last time I was put under oath.

Have you ever failed a subject before? I’ve failed exams but never an entire class.

Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet? No.

Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender? Well yeah, I dated one.

Have you ever been in a hot tub before? Sure.

Have you ever been to a movie that sold out? I’ve never experienced trying to buy tickets only to find out they’re all sold out, but that’s also probably because we have hundreds of malls in Manila alone and you can always find a theatre that are still offering tickets.

What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep? I’m not usually that way with horror movies, but I do remember running into a jumpscare on TikTok while I was scrolling at 3 AM. Not fun.

When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad? Touchpad. I never use a mouse.

What’s your mom’s mom’s name? Agnes.

Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like? I’m not interested in anyone so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Have you ever been tempted to steal? Sure, but the urge is never so strong.

What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? I’m not reading anything.

Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? Nah. I did have a Ben&Ben phase, though I haven’t revisited their music in a long time.

Who’s the last person you saw naked, aside from yourself? I’m not sure about completely naked, probably still my ex. As for partially naked, my dad sometimes goes shirtless at home as most Filipino dads do lol.

Who’s your favorite horror monster/killer? The most iconic for me would be that porcupine looking ass from Resident Evil 4, I believe it was meant to be for one of the boss stages or something. Anyway, it’s memorable for me just because that fucker had been impossible to defeat and I loved watching my older cousin do attempt after attempt. I don’t think he ever got to beat him and by the time he did us cousins were already adults, lol.

On a side note, we called him ‘Porcupine’ as kids since a shitload of spikes would stick out of him unpredictably during the boss stage, and I thought that nickname had been just our thing; but I’m actually surprised that that villain actually comes up when you do a simple ‘Resident Evil 4 porcupine’ search haha. I guess other people called him the same thing too.

What kind of music do you prefer to listen to when driving? I usually put on a playlist of BTS’ rapline; I tend to enjoy high-energy songs while driving.

Would you ever own a hairless rat, cat or dog? I don’t see why I wouldn’t when it comes to the dog. I don’t want a cat or rat.

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? G.

What did you and your ex fight about most? It was about the deeper, more profound stuff. We never saw eye to eye about the future, if we were helping the other grow, etc. Someone was always scared or insecure about something that the other could never help with fixing.

Don’t you love long hugs? Sure, I love getting hugs as long as I’m comfy around the one giving it.

And long kisses? Mhm, they’re nice.

Have you ever purchased condoms? Only for Angela when she had still been too shy to ask for it herself.

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? No. We had gone out of town for daytrips, but never for a fully-decked out vacation.

Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? I wouldn’t do anything that loud. My resentment’s a lot more reserved and subtle, definitely on the passive-aggressive side.

Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? If I left like a paint scratch, no. If I was somehow stupid enough to manage wrecking the car then yes.

Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? Oh that’s just gross. No. I do remember unknowingly parking over a spot meant for the handicapped once just because the paint was so fucking faded. It was genuinely so hard to tell but in the end I ended up just getting out of the spot and looked for another just to be on the safe, unassholey side.

Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? Not at all! I love telling people I work in PR and sharing the brands I work with...it’s just a bitch trying to explain what exactly it is I do on a normal day. I’m still blanking out on it now that I’m thinking about it, haha. PR’s a challenge to summarize in one or two sentences.

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving? I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with it. Ideally I would pull over and help bring it to the side of the road, and try to ask for help from passersby as well. I’m still not sure what I should/would do next.

Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner? French, Spanish, and Italian restaurants always seem to carry a pleasant, date-y atmosphere to them, so any of those cuisines should be ok. I also like quieter restaurants with warm yellow lighting, since that makes me feel at home the most. The place definitely doesn't have to be super popular; I would just want for it to serve good food.

What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue? Flying planes.

What would be the most amazing adventure to go on? Probably something that’s booked with thrill-seeking adventures? Like a day of wakeboarding, paragliding, skydiving, riding an ATV...I would be exhausted as fuck and sleep for the next three days, but I can’t even begin to imagine how fun it would be.

When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? Writing stuff. < Yeah, essentially. My friends ask me for general life advice too.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like? Yeah. But I always defended her.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? I mean I’ve written long letters, but I haven’t made a poem or song for anyone.

Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished? These days it would probably be Arlan. He just finished his Masters in Journalism at Columbia and I couldn’t be more proud. I remember wanting to attend Columbia too, but seeing how my love of journalism turned out...I’ve long accepted the fact that that route was not meant for me, hahaha.

What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives? Finish a painting, which can also serve as a callout to me lol.

What would you rate 10/10? Seafood.

What do you hope never changes? My relationships with my best friends.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? No, I barely have a clue who she is and she seemed decades older when she called me up this morning.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to? I’m good.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now?

Are you happy with your relationship status? Yessssssss. I love not having to worry about another person to spend on LOL

When did you last cry? What for? Two Saturdays ago. The one-year mark of my breakup had been coming up and an overwhelming wave of emotions just flooded me all of a sudden, I guess. There was happiness and relief from not being stuck in it anymore; feeling sorry for myself as I remembered the turmoil and deterioration I went through in the latter part the year; anger for the shit she pulled; and there was also just the general feeling of being grateful that I’m still here after everything.

Do you think you’re wasting your time on the person you love?

When’s the next time you’ll kiss someone? No clue. I’m not holding my breath for it and that’s okay.

Were you ever scared to death of anyone you knew? Or are you currently? Yeah, unfortunately I’ve always been surrounded by at least one person who terrifies me.

What’s the longest you’ve been away from home by yourself? Nothing more than a day. That’s something I have yet to try out.

Have you ever been made fun of, because of what you look like? Athenna was relentless in her insults. I dunno why I was friends her for as long as I was.

Have you ever made fun of others, because of what they look like? If they’re some random person on the internet with disgusting political views, then yeah; but it’s just thoughts I keep in my head and I never verbalized the bullying. But not anyone in real life. Do you think it’s cute when you’re leaving a place, and a guy says “no hug?” If I’m friends with the person I’ll banter with them for a bit until I give in for a hug. If it was any other guy I barely know...I would be disgusted and throw them the dirtiest glare.

Do you wear short shorts (if you’re a girl)? I didn't know short shorts were specific to females. < LOL same. Anyway no, not these days. I used to but they’re not really a part of my personal style anymore.

Who are you the most uncomfortable around? Relatives with the wrong political views.

Who has your heart? Nobody.

Should cloning ever be allowed to happen? I don’t see the point. No.

Are you impatient with really shy people? If it gets to the point that they seem aloof and radiate very I-could-not-care-less-about-getting-along-with-any-of-you vibes, then yeah I feel like I would get irritated pretty fast. But I was an extremely shy person once too, so I’m typically friendly with them and I would usually be That person who constantly stays next to them so they feel like they belong.

Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window? It sits in the window, as with most households here.

What is the most ridiculous band name you’ve heard recently? I haven’t encountered anything wacky recently.

Would you ever get a fashion mullet? No.

Do you believe that Jesus lived and is returning? No.

Do you believe in spiritual gifts? No.

Do you believe in callings? Not really, no.

If you were rich, would you get a professional photoshoot done? Hell no. I get extremely sheepish in front of a camera and a thousand times worse at posing.

#survey #surveys

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lunariasilver · 4 years

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The Virtuoso / 3. Meteor City Part III

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I couldn't seem to distance myself from the Phantom Troupe. Every time I considered it I found myself somehow spending time with one of the members. It was strange. I had never wanted to spend so much time with somebody before, except maybe Killua; but even that was different.

At the time I was just concerned with showing him and everyone else that I was his superior in every way.

It wasn't long before they gathered new members. Only a few, and they helped lay the groundwork for the Troupe.

Shalnark and Phinks.

Phinks was ok. Pretty fun to mess with, actually. As far as Phantom Troupe members went, I'd say he was the most excitable. I mean, aside from Uvo. But he was a different kind of excitable. I spent a truly unnecessary amount of time bullying the man. Something about the way he reacted was hysterical to me.

He had tried to fight me, however. Luckily I was really good at evading. Plus Chrollo always had my back....even though he told me to stop harassing the man. I didn't though. What was he gonna do? Stop me? Please.

I hated Shalnark. I had no idea why. I just did. He was the worst. He was entirely too cheerful. He, however, was determined to be my best friend. Whenever I was doing anything he just turned up and started pestering me.

"Ivela!"

And there he was now.

I elected to ignore him, instead continuing to play my violin in a secluded alley.

"Look, I brought you a crown!" He exclaimed, carrying with him a ridiculous silver circlet with a red gemstone centered in the front.

My violin screeched. "What?"

"Look how pretty it is!"

"I hate you."

"Aww, but you're my best friend!"

Naturally, I took the crown. I had hopes that he would give me a different gift sometime in the future, but I always need more gifts. Gives me more things to summon.

Chrollo and I had already talked about every book he had, and now we had started sharing our own stories with each other. Only told orally, because there was no way we were wasting paper on that. Plus I blatantly refused to write on the dirty paper that could be found here. It was gross.

It was kind of fun to bounce ideas off of each other. These sessions usually ended in the two of us chuckling at the absurdity of what we had just come up with.

"Did you make yourself into a character?" Chrollo asked me one time.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "No, she's-"

"She's an assassin born girl banished from the family trying to prove herself worthy so she can go home." He deadpanned.

I paused. "Alright so I might have made myself."

He laughed at me, the bastard. I joined him a few seconds later. It was, admittedly, kind of funny.

My time spent alone was filled with, surprisingly, composing. It was something I had never really had much time for after Killua was born, but I had enjoyed the hobby tremendously when I was still the heir. I wasn't sure why I had started writing music again. It felt kind of nice. They were all little songs, though. I didn't think I had it in me to write a full length one. Or, rather I didn't really have the inspiration.

I tended to meditate a lot while I was alone too. Basic nen training, I guess. It was incredibly important that I get stronger. I wouldn't let myself fall behind the others- the members of the troupe. My nen prowess grew by the day.

I was worried I was becoming an alcoholic with the amount of time I spent drinking with Uvo and Nobu. It was a good thing they never had enough alcohol to keep me buzzed for more than an hour. I didn't think Uvo ever had enough, either. He was always talking about how much he wanted to get me to an actual bar so he could "drink me under the table."

Personally I thought that I would beat him in a drinking contest.

I had started sparring with all the members of the troupe when they were up to it. There was no better training than actual combat. Well, not really actual combat. None of them wanted to kill me. I hoped.

"Ivela!" Machi called to me as I was walking. Her tone seemed...clipped. I didn't like that.

I paused my gait and half turned to see her approaching me.

"Machi." I stated.

"Did you take my dagger?"

I paused, furrowing my eyebrows. "Why would I do that?"

"You said you liked it." She replied, her eyebrows twitching.

I nodded. "It is a nice dagger."

"So you admit it?"

"No. I have a dagger."

The conversation continued in this fashion for a few moments before Machi stormed off, still convinced I had taken the dagger. I had no idea why she assumed that I would steal from her, but I had been unable to convince her otherwise. I spent the next week on my guard, fully expecting some kind of violent retaliation. It's what Illumi would have done, and they were about the same age. It was strange, despite Meteor City being a place in which I should've always been on my guard in, I realized that I had been oddly relaxed here. It was jarring to go back to a state of hypervigilance.

The next time that Machi approached me, it was again outright. I was honestly expecting some kind of ambush, but couldn't find any signs of one.

"Do you need something." I asked her after a moment of examination. She seemed to be struggling with something.

Honestly her demeanor was terrible. It was obvious she was about to do something she didn't nessecarily want to do, like stab me.

"I..." She paused again. I sighed. I wished she would just get this over with.

"I found my dagger." She finally said. What? "It turns out I just misplaced it."

I narrowed my eyes at her. She was absolutely planning something.

"I uh, came to apologize."

My eyebrows raised practically to my hairline. "Apologize?"

"Yeah, I'm uh. I'm sorry I accused you."

I continued to stare at her for a minute. "Are you not going to stab me? Or....I don't know...try to set me on fire?"

"Not unless you stab me first!" Machi quipped before laughing.

.....Why.....was she laughing I was being completely serious.

"My hair has gotten longer." I noted. Chrollo and I had just finished discussing another ridiculous story when I brought up my hair in a lull in the conversation.

"That tends to happen." He replied.

I stared at him, eyes narrowed.

"Hair grows, Ivela."

"I hate you."

"Be that as it may," Chrollo said, smiling subtly. I hated it when he teased me. "Is there something wrong with that?" I assumed he was referring to my hair's length.

"Yes." I grumbled, crossing my arms.

"Do you want me to cut it?" He offered.

I stared at him blankly. "Have you ever cut hair before?"

"How hard could it be?"

He found that it was harder than he anticipated, as evidenced by the reflection staring at me from the water. The haircut was kind of choppy. It was actually a bit of a mess. It stopped at my shoulder, just as my hair had when I had first come here, but it wasn't perfectly sculpted.

"I'm sorry." Chrollo said from behind me.

"I love it..." I whispered, staring wide eyed at myself. It was so different than the ridiculously perfect bob I had been forced to have all my life. Mother was...insistent that I dress however she wanted me to.

"What?"

"This is the best haircut I've ever gotten. You have to cut my hair from now on!" I stood up from where I had been crouched by the waterside and rounded on him.

"H-hold on-"

"Too late, you're my hairdresser now." I was pretty good at reading him. He was secretly pleased that I liked what he had done.

"I-" He started, before sighing. I grinned for a split second, knowing I had won. "Okay." He relented.

It wasn't long before a year had passed since my arrival. It was honestly the best year of my life so far. But all good things must come to an end.

"We've done all we can here." Chrollo explained. "We have to branch out more."

"You'll come with us." Feitan said.

Paku shook her head. "Obviously he means we want you to come with us."

I glared at the ground while clutching the ends of my shirt. "I...can't."

"Why not?!" Uvo exclaimed, leaning forward. I could tell all of them were shocked by my admission.

"You know better than us that it's better out there!" Phinks yelled. It was nice to know that even he wanted me to come along.

"You can't really like it here." Machi stated.

I did kind of like it here, actually. But... "You don't understand. I can't leave." I reiterated. I still couldn't bring myself to look at them.

"Ivela, you're being stubborn." Chrollo sighed. It was as if he couldn't fathom the concept of me not wanting to go with them. He was right to be confused. I did want to go with them.

"I am not!" I shouted, looking up. "I....if I leave they'll..." I stopped, sighing heavily. I really didn't want to tell them.

"My family...they're...I'm..."

"They're assassins. You told me already. But what does that have to do with-" Nobu started.

I cut him off. "They're the Zoldycks." My admission was met with stunned silence. Even in Meteor City the Zoldycks were well known. We got all of our butlers from Meteor City. I looked anywhere but at their faces.

"The day before I came here, I tried to do something...unforgiveable." I didn't want to elaborate on what I had done. Especially not to people who were leaving. People I would never see again.

"They left me here, and told me if I ever left that they would kill me. I know they weren't just saying that. If I leave, I'll die."

The air was heavy. A pin dropping could break the silence.

Paku was the first to recover. "We'll just have to visit you then."

The rest of them were quick to agree.

I smiled humorlessly at them. "Then, I'll see you when you do." I didn't believe them.

I would never see them again. Of that I was certain.

A/N

Either one or two more Meteor City chapters before we get into the real story.

#Chrollo x reader #Chrollo x OC #Chrollo Lucilfer #Chrollo Lucilfer x reader #Chrollo Lucilfer x OC #Hunter x Hunter #Ivela Zoldyck #The Virtuoso

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