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hide-in-imagination · 2 years

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"Misery Loves Company" - Simbar oneshot

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1x40 Canon Divergence, after the kiss that shall not be mentioned. Note: I wrote this not remembering canon and then I checked. So, to give those who do remember some peace of mind, let’s just say Tino’s phone broke way earlier and so Ámbar could never call him to confirm they had taken Simón.

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He couldn’t stay.

In between the excited roars of the audience and the announcement of the next pair of competitors, Simón snaked his way between friends and strangers alike and left the wide rink behind him. Walked right out the door he’d just crossed a mere minute ago, back when his heart was still in one piece.

The sound of everything dulled once he stood outside, unmoving. He’d run there; he should still feel winded. He felt nothing but the ache in his heart; the shortness in his breath only from his swallowed down sobs as his tears fell silently.

He began to walk, directionless, not far. He couldn’t stay, but he couldn’t really leave either. The air felt cold against the drying sweat on his skin. He wiped the tears off his face, applying pressure with the heel of his palms, telling himself to stop. People were going to stare. Groups of friends and families from all over had gone there to enjoy an exciting, cheerful and awe-inspiring skating competition. He could almost hear the voice of an innocent curious girl. Mom, why is the boy crying?

His feet stopped when he saw a familiar face. Lost in his thoughts, he’d ended up almost in front of a hunched down Ámbar, sat on a bench with her gaze down. Why was she out here—?

Oh...

She must have felt his presence because Ámbar looked up and their eyes met. Her blue ones were wet with unshed tears. Simón averted his gaze, feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. She probably didn’t want him to see her like this. He resumed the movement of his feet, made to continue on his way—

“You look pathetic.”

Simón stopped and turned around, half-stunned, half-outraged that she would say that to him right now.

But he couldn’t get any words in before Ámbar kept talking, as if to herself.

“I’m pathetic. We both are. We knew this was gonna happen, we saw it coming from a million miles away, and yet—” She made a flourish with her hands, gesturing to how they were now. She blinked rapidly against the moisture in her eyes and scoffed detrimentally. “We thought they’d choose us.”

Simón could do nothing but stare at his feet, fighting against his own ache in his chest and closed-up throat.

“Why didn’t you show up?”

Simón looked up. He found that her gaze was directed at him for the first time since she’d started talking. Never in his life did he think that Ámbar Smith would look at him with tears in her eyes, let alone while sharing his same heartbreak.

His lips curved into a sad smile. “Would you believe me if I told you that Tino and Cato kidnapped me and I had to find my way back from who-knows-where?”

It was so ridiculous now, looking back at it. He couldn’t believe this was his life.

A snort brought his attention from the memory back to Ámbar, and before he knew it, she was full on laughing— A sad, humorless laugh that made her look somewhere between insane and inconsolable.

Simón moved and sat next to her, worried.

“Ámbar?”

She shook her head, her eyes seemingly unfocused, looking at nothing.

“It was my fault,” she said with what could only be wry amusement, drowned in sorrow. “Of course it was, of course.”

Simón frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I asked them to take away Luna for a surprise birthday party.”

For a moment, all they could hear was the rustling of trees and faraway voices.

“It was you?” Simón said in outrage, glaring at Ámbar’s profile. “You were going to kidnap Luna?” He couldn’t believe this— Who did that? What the…

Ámbar rolled her eyes weakly. “Whatever, Simón, what’s the point of dwelling on it now? It didn’t work, and what had to happen, happened,” she said in a despondent voice. “Honestly? I should’ve saved myself the effort. I don’t know why I even tried when it was obvious they liked each other.”

Simón looked down. The defeat in her voice put out the flame of his annoyance. She was right, what was the point? He was too exhausted, both emotionally and physically after running all those miles, to have the energy to really get angry. He kind of wanted to— Anything would be better than feeling broken inside. But who should he direct that anger to? Ámbar? She was just as hurt as him right now. If anything, she’d already paid for her bad deed. Tino and Cato? It wasn’t their fault, even if they didn’t make things easier either. Luna? That wouldn’t be fair— She couldn’t control how she felt any more than he did. The only ones left would be Matteo and himself for being as stupid as to think… As to hope…

Oh, how he wanted to hate Matteo.

Ámbar apparently had followed a similar train of thought in her own mind because she turned to him with an indignant look.

“What do you both see in Luna? Seriously.”

The question took Simón by surprise.

He couldn’t speak for Matteo, of course. But if he saw the same as he did, then…

“She is…”

He thought about her smile; the way she made him smile. Her clumsiness, her bravery, her humor, her enthusiasm…

Simón shrugged. “…everything.”

It was deep to him, but clearly Ámbar didn’t see it that way because she scoffed.

“Right.”

How could a person manage so much irony and disdain in just one word? It had to be a talent.

“Well, what about you?” He volleyed back to her. “What the hell does that cocky bastard have?” He asked, allowing some of his resentment to come afloat. Sue him— He had reasons to hate the guy.

Ámbar didn’t even have to think. “Style. Talent. Confidence. Status. Money—”

“Okay, stop,” Simón groaned and put his face behind his hands. If he had to listen to one more thing in which he fell short in comparison to Matteo, he was gonna go back to Buenos Aires right now, lock himself in the loft, and not leave for a week.

… Should he even return to Buenos Aires? Was there a point? What was waiting for him there? More heartbreak. More disillusion.

Simón hurt inside. After what happened, his future looked so grim…

“He doesn’t have your loyalty though.”

Simón lifted his head. He looked at Ámbar, surprised, almost doubting he had heard her right. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze fixed on the horizon instead, but she couldn’t have been speaking to anyone else.

“For as much as it is annoying to watch, you clearly only have eyes for Luna,” she continued. “And clearly we can’t say the same thing about Matteo,” she scoffed, her voice drenched in resentment.

…Was Ámbar, the Ámbar he knew, actually trying to make him feel better?

Simón stared at her. Suddenly, the realization hit him that Ámbar had been worse off than him this whole time. Sure, his feelings weren’t reciprocated, but Matteo had been shamelessly after Luna while dating Ámbar on and off.

It made him want to return the favor.

“…You skate better than Luna.”

Ámbar turned to him with a pointed look. “Ah, so you admit it?”

God, this girl.

“Hey, we won the right to be the representatives of the Roller fair and square, okay?” He clarified firmly. He would not tolerate complaints any longer. “… But you have more experience,” he continued. He’d already started, he wasn’t going to back out now. Plus, it was the truth— Everyone knew it. “Way more. And you skate amazing.”

“I know, which is exactly why we should’ve represented the Roller with Matteo and then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Didn’t you just say that there was no point dwelling on those things now?” He argued.

Ámbar looked at him, clearly wanting to retort, badly. But eventually, she sighed and slumped forward, resting her head on one hand.

And that was that. Nothing but silence followed.

They must’ve looked quite the pair, Simón thought. Two people sitting on a bench with vacant stares, visibly dejected, right outside a skating competition. Anyone who saw them would probably assume they didn’t even know each other at all.

“… Do you think they announced the winners by now?” Simón felt like asking after a minute. He was thinking out loud, more like.

“Maybe,” came Ámbar’s listless response.

“… Should we be there?” His conscience poked him.

“If you wanna go, be my guest.”

He remembered what he’d seen. What everyone he knew would be talking about.

“…No, I really don’t.” He probably should be there to support his team, but given the circumstances, no one could blame him for not wanting to be there. It wasn’t like his presence would change anything either way. “But I can leave you alone if that’s what you want,” he offered Ámbar. “Although…”

“Although what?”

Simón doubted himself. Maybe he should just leave after all. Ámbar probably didn’t want him there.

But… “I don’t think you should be alone after that.”

“What? Matteo kissing Lunita? I got over it already, it’s his loss,” she said flatly. “I’m just here because I’m angry I couldn’t skate and that trophy should’ve been mine.”

She clearly was not over it, but he decided not to point that out. If pulling up a tough front was what she needed right now, Simón could give her that.

“… I’ll stay for that then,” he said, and remained by her side on the bench.

He still felt like crap, but the comfortable silence between them and the warmth of the afternoon sun slowly put him into more of a numb state. It wasn’t healing, not even close, but it was better.

“Simón?” Ámbar’s voice came out after many more minutes like that.

He turned his head and found her eyes. She dropped them almost immediately, then met his gaze again only to avert hers once more, like she wasn’t sure whether to look at him or not. In the end, she chose against it.

“Thank you,” she told him in a tiny voice. “Not even my friends came to sit here with me.”

The fact hit him like a soccer ball. Simón hadn’t even realized it until she said it. Right, she must have been with Delfi and Jazmín in the bleachers watching everything unfold. She must have run out the moment it happened just as he had done, and yet neither of the girls went after her.

Why? If it was any of his friends, he certainly would have. Why didn’t they?

He felt a surge of anger and sadness rise inside him in Ámbar’s name. He suddenly remembered how he’d found her— Alone, teary-eyed, and saying she was pathetic.

She shouldn’t have been like that. No one ever should.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, kept her gaze when she looked at him. “You also stayed.”

She could’ve left him alone at any moment and she hadn’t. She’d even tried to cheer him up, no matter how fleeting the attempt had been. That showed the kind of person she was, behind the pride and fake smiles he’d come to associate her with. Maybe it all was fake— Everything he thought of her until now.

“And…” He added. “Well, maybe this helped you make a new friend.”

He kept his voice light, tentative. He conveyed with his gaze ‘I know it’s weird but, gotten to this point, why not?’

Ámbar looked at him in silence for a moment, until the corner of her mouth rose in a delicate way, unexpectedly sweet.

“Maybe.”

…

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Okay so I’m actually excited about this one, not on itself but because it leads to two different routes!! It’s my first time doing something like this and, like everything ever with my brain, I didn’t really plan it, it just happened 😂

But yeah! This oneshot leads to two different tropes I’m working on:

1- Best Friends to Lovers 2- Fake Dating

Tell me which one you’re most excited about! Personally, I’m a sucker for Best Friends to Lovers. Oh, the angst!!

Anyway, I’m also working on the sequel to Drunk Simón because people really loved that one. See you soon!

#tbh I consider not remembering S1 a virtue so if there are any more inconsistencies- I don't care #soy luna #simbar #simbar fic #simbar fanfiction #not a lot of simbar I do admit but give it a minute #My Writing #short writings

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mintvender · 3 years

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UTOPIA [ 7 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning : Suggestive Content

Word Count: 9.8k

A/n: Finally finished this chapter. This chapter marks the end of the first era where the main ensemble finally unite. However, this is also the start of something else. Tell me what you think, 🌿.

Masterlist

Humming a quiet melody, you felt the air around you stirred. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of the flow around you, patiently waiting for a response. Expectedly, your question was not answered.

Nevertheless, you knew better than to give up your standing and continue to participate in this wordless battle. After all, as a member of the Crimson branch, it would hurt your pride to lose to such a miscellaneous game.

Slowly but surely, the air around you both began to constrict, seemingly trapping you in its borders. However, instead of surrendering to either of your guys’ unmoving selves, none made a move in anything close to failure and instead, waited.

Such a manipulator.

Seconds steadily merge into minutes, and before you know it, you are left with a quarter of an hour before having to head back. Looking at the entrance of the alley, it had seemed that the sun was already setting. Turning around to meet Raven’s eyes, you let out a smirk before pushing yourself off the walls.

“ If you don’t have anything to say then I guess there is no other purpose being here,” you taunted, heading towards the bustling street.

Purposely exaggerating your steps to enhance the sound of your shoes colliding with the floor, you confidently walk the opposite way, not glancing back. However, before you can bathe under the colourful lanterns, an arm slid around yours, pulling you back into the darkness.

Quick to hide your growing smirk, you let yourself be dragged back deep within the alley. Turning around, you look down at the piercing eyes, staring menacingly into your own.

“ Stop joking around,” Raven warned.

“ Answer my question then,” you insisted, “ Why have you called me?”

Even with the mask, you could tell that she was rolling her eyes at your ridiculous question. Reaching into her long sleeve, Raven took out a thin envelope and shoved it into your arms.

“ The Master wanted to give this to you.”

Looking at her knowingly, you flick the tab open, reaching in to get the paper. Pulling the paper out, you motioned her to bring the lantern closer. You both peered through the content of the letter, processing the intentions that have been conveyed. Looking into each others’ eyes, silently having a conversation.

After a while, you both synchronously nodded, agreeing on the best solution.

Standing straight up, you carefully tuck the letter into your inner sleeve. You patted the spot a few times to test its stability as you mindlessly listened to Raven’s plan.

“ You do know that it is better to do it now than later right?”

Stopping what you were doing, you clench your hands repeatedly while staring at the ground. Letting out a tired sigh, you tussled through your hair in frustration, making obvious attempts to ignore her question.

“ You kno—“

“ I know!” You growled, biting your inner cheeks. “ I… need time to adapt to this current life. After that… I will tell them.”

Without looking at her, you could already define her expression of knowingness. Even so, you ignored it, too caught up with your thoughts and forceful emotions.

Letting out a loud sigh, “ Mind joining me for a drink?”

Looking into Raven’s eyes, you could almost spot specks of whites and yellows swirling into her magnificent midnight black orbs. Despite how gorgeous they were, you knew that they held nothing more than pity and sympathy; ones that aimed at you— your decisions specifically.

Once again, you both held eye contact for however long before Raven broke it with a gentle shake of her head. She nodded, quietly accepting your invitation, stepping away from you.

Following her lead, you nodded, tightening your grasp on your own mask, in which you had taken off unconsciously during the discussion.

Fingers running through the surface, you admire each stroke that has been carved into the wood. Unlike Raven’s who was smothered in shades of black and grey, yours was painted in a variety of red and gold. In another way, it showcases the difference between your animal and hers.

Each member of the clan is subjected to form their alias based on their branch and their ones that resonate with them.

For example, your branch— the crimson branch is categorized as a physical branch, people who focus on close combat. As a result, all the members within the branch are named after predators of all kinds, except birds. Raven, who belonged to the Gold branch, specializing in long-distance attacks, are thus named after various avians. With that, the Azures are categorized to different strategic pieces and theories, while the Veridian branch are varieties of poisons, and the Titanium branch, are all the raw materials used for craftsmanship.

Bringing the mask to your face, you quickly fasten it, lifting your hair to hide the knot under it. You started heading out of the alley, Raven following right after you and into the clusters of light.

As you both walked through the noisy crowd, you glanced around at the assorted shades of lanterns that are hanged throughout the district, most in deep, bright shades of red, confirming that you were indeed in the epicentre of the red district.

The red district was a very interesting place that attracts a wide audience— for the many different reasons that are available. Some people come here to do business— both legal and illegally, while some search for companions—for the reasons you won’t go into. Anyways, in your guys’ case, it was the former. Now for whether it’s legal or illegal? You didn’t exactly know.

Along the way, you randomly chose a cozy-looking winery in the depth of the district, one that wasn’t filled with too many lustful people.

This particular winery was unlike many others. Instead of drenching in the odour of alcohol, the winery quickly filled your senses with a delicate and flowery scent. Curiosity hitting you like a brick wall, you glanced around to try and find where the scent was coming from.

“ Welcome, precious guests,” a velvety voice greeted.

Perking your head up at the voice, your head naturally followed the direction. Immediately after looking up, you were faced with a figure adorned in pieces of red. Unexpectedly, the voice owner’s face was beyond any noble ladies in the capital, with a sharp yet captivating gaze, and perfect proportions. To say the least, she was flawless.

Seeing your guys’ silence, the lady let out a smile.

“ Please, follow me,” she said, leading you into a quiet corner, invisible to most people.

You nodded in gratitude, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

“ What would you like?”

Looking contemplated, Raven asked, “ What do you specialize in?”

Eyes sparkling in excitement at Raven’s word, the lady clasped her hand together before clearing her throat, “ Finally! The Silvering Winery specializes in mixed drinks.”

Raising your eyebrow, curious of the reason for her being so excited, you asked, “ Don’t people come here for that since it’s your specialty?”

Reacting to your question, the lady huffed out a sigh, her eyebrows crunching up in frustration. “ Of course not! All we have coming are old, drunken men who know nothing more than jugs of those tasteless alcohol! With our location, even if so hidden, people still manage to find it. No one ever asks for mixed drinks… until now at least.”

You smiled, taking interest in her talk, “ Any recommendations you have?”

Tapping her chin carefully, the lady took her time to think as she scanned over the both of you. “ Mhmm, how about this? I’ll create drinks based on what I get from each of you.”

Raven hummed in agreement while you nodded in interest,“ Please… Mmm...Is there perhaps a name we could possibly address you?”

Plushed lips curling up to a smile, she answered, “ Please call me… Lisa.”

“ Sounds foreign.”

Lisa nodded, “ I’m from the west.”

Smiling at her words, you introduced, “ Please call me Phoenix.”

“ Raven.”

“ Then we’ll be in your care, Lisa.”

Turning around, Lisa headed off to what seemed to be the kitchen, “ Don’t worry, I never disappoint my customers.”

You waited for the retrieving figure to enter the kitchen before setting your eyes back to the decor of the place. The whole venue was covered in wood, planks attached to the floor while chunkier pieces are used to form tables. Smaller pieces of wood are spotted splattered across the walls and the tops of the very many seats. On your guys’ table, a tray sat there, holding a plate of sweets accompanied by two wooden cups, filled to the brim with scorching hot herbal tea.

Reaching over to grab yours, Raven following right after, you both enjoyed the taste of the herbs in silence. Letting the bitter taste coat your skin, you hummed in satisfaction as the warmth spread through your body, seeping into your core.

Unlike your usual mask where it covers your entire face, this one only covered half of it, thus making it much more convenient to use during these situations.

“ It’s been a while since we’ve had a normal conversation.”

Humming in interest, Raven continued to sip her tea.

“ How have you been?”

“ ...I’ve been good. Just the usual stuff, nothing new.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you reach over to grab a piece of sweet.

“ How have you been?”

Biting into the dessert, you munch on it while thinking over the question. “ It’s been hectic. This year has been a little … overwhelming.”

By the perked-up eyebrows, you could tell that she was interested in your wording but seeing how she had no intentions of mentioning it, you also dismissed the minor detail.

“ The Master had given you such a significant mission, it’s no wonder it would be so tiring.”

Tightening your lip to form a small smile, you nodded in agreement, your head bouncing with the force. “ In the beginning, I often wondered why the Master has assigned me to be leading this mission when there are clearly more suitable people than me.”

“ Who?”

Looking down to your own cup, you stared into the reflection of yourself painted on the layer of liquid. “ … For starters, you.”

Chuckling at your response, Raven eyed your slightly sunken form. “ Me? I have no interest in this type of mission. In fact, I’m quite glad that you were assigned to it. This way, at least, I have some reassurance that the mission is more likely to succeed.”

Refusing to look at her, you smiled in acknowledgement, the happiness unable to reach your eyes.

Seeing your sullen state, Raven reached out her hand to grasp yours, comfortably stroking over your knuckles.

“ You will do fine. In fact, you’ve done so much more than what that bastard has ever achieved in his entire life.”

Wincing at Raven’s profanity, you cracked out a smile.

“ You’re lucky he’s dead, if not…” you spaced out, slicing your finger across your neck to continue your sentence.

Raven smiled at your joke. “ You’re part of the Crimson branch, Y/n, a predator that stands out among the rest,” Raven reminded you, “ I know that this is weighing a great deal of pressure on you but know that we are always here to assist you.”

“ ...You’re really bittersweet, Raven.”

Blinking calmly at your comment, Raven replied, “ Of course.”

Feeling the conversation fade away, you both followed the flow, quietly minding each other’s interest.

“ What’s with the atmosphere here?” Lisa announced, entering the scene, carrying the beverages on a tray. “ Now, now. Don’t be too sullen. Let me cheer you up with these drinks,” she proudly proclaimed.

Looking at the drinks that she had placed in front of you, your eyes glimmered in interest. Picking the cup up, you brought it closer to you, inspecting the contents within the cup.

“ What is this?” You asked, sniffing the aroma that was escaping.

Resting her arms on her hips, she explained, “ With Raven’s, I decided to go with a simple drink. A combination of our winery’s signature wine and rice wine have been added to highlight a clean yet edgy taste. Swan Knife”

Raven nodded, lips curling up in satisfaction. Picking up her cup, she slowly bring it to her lips, taking small gulps to savor the taste. “ Swan Knife? Mhmm, it fits.”

“ Of course.”

“ What about mine?”

Clapping her hand in excitement, Lisa giddily answered, “ Yours was a combination of the winery’s freshest batch and an old brandy imported from the west. I topped the drink off with a little citrusy tang to highlight the harmony of the senses. Overall, you will experience the sharp, bitter, and tangy sensation in one mouthful. Bittersweet Kiss.”

Taking in a deep breath, you mentally cringed at the name while Raven openly smirked at the coincidence. “ Sounds like a roller coaster,” you hummed, taking your gulp.

Closing your eyes, you let the taste of the alcohol cover every crevice of your mouth, confirming what Lisa said to be true.

“ Interesting,” you said, “ Definitely worth your praise.”

Preening at your praise, she happily thanked you.

Using the tea to cleanse your palate, you repeatedly go back and force between the two beverages.

“ Why don’t you join us, Lisa?” Raven offered.

Shaking her head, she gave out a sad expression, “ I’m afraid that won’t be possible. My other customers are waiting.”

Taking a quick look around, you couldn’t spot any other customer except for yourself and Raven. However, as if on cue, the door was slammed open, revealing a bunch of drunken men, toppling over each other to try and enter the space.

“ LISA! Give me the usual!”

Rolling her eyes at the male, she quickly covered it with a smile, bowing in greeting at you before heading over to the other customers.

“ She seemed like an interesting fellow,” you noted before going back to your drink.

“... Has the Master been demanding?”

Stopping yourself at the question, you bite your lip in confliction. “ In some aspects, yes, he is. But I still don’t understand what we are getting out from these missions.”

Raven swirl her drink in a circular motion. “ The Master is planning something big.”

You snorted, “ Of course he is. He wouldn't assign me this mission for some petty excuses. You...you know something right?”

Confirming your theory at her refusal to look you in the eye, you nodded in understanding. “ You don’t need to tell me. I understand.”

“ No, it’s not because I don’t want to tell you but it’s … complicated. But what I can definitely guarantee you is that the Master is planning something that you will never expect.”

Staring at her features, you slowly studied the face that you’ve known for years. Suddenly, you came up with a surprise connection, one you didn’t expect to come nor become real.

“ If I look at you now, you hold some resemblance with someone I know,” you nonchalantly commented.

Stiffening at your sudden observation, Raven fidget with the cup in her hand as you stared her down, trying to identify who it was.

“ Who?” She meekly asked.

“... H— No i think I’ve mistaken you with someone else,” you covered up.

There’s no way that this is a coincidence. I’m just overthinking it.

Subtly shutting her eyes at your response, it was obvious that Raven didn’t wholeheartedly believe your words but ignored it either way.

“ I heard that you started adopting consorts, and changed the initial plan.”

“ … I did unconsciously recruit a few more consorts aside from Taehyung, and did manage to alter some part of the plan. However, I promised that it’s nothing major. The plan is progressing relatively smoothly.”

Chuckling at yoru panicked voice, she assured you, “ It’s fine. There’s no need to panic, I was just asking… Are they good people?”

Unconsciously smiling at the thought, you hesitantly nodded. “ They’re interesting people. Certainly unique in their own little ways.”

“ You know that you attract many people to your ways, right?”

Snorting at her response, you cheekily grinned. “ Good or bad, I wonder.”

Raven looked at you knowingly, before smugly looking at the decor around you, not wanting to give out a verbal response. Raising your eyebrows at her antiques, you also took your stride in looking around.

On instinct, you looked over at the opened doors to be met with a background of the dark sky, illuminated by lanterns. Hastily standing up, you bided Raven goodbye, “ Looks like it’s my time to go now. When you have the time, make sure to stop at my place.”

Going to the door, you almost couldn’t catch Raven’s greetings. Feeling a small smile adorned your face, you quickly exited the winery and back into the streets.

Looking at your previous spot, Raven mindlessly sipped her drink.

“ They’re certainly an interesting one, aren’t they?” Lisa pipped in.

Raven smiled, “ Definitely.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Once again in the crowds of the festival, you hurriedly dodge through the drunkens, careful to not hit the vulnerables. Smiling every so often to showcase your politeness, your feet quickly carried you to the opposite end and eventually to a left turn.

Letting out a deep sigh, you were thankful for getting out of the mess in one piece. Just being in the place gets you to have flashbacks about previous experiences.

You slowed down your pace, making sure to not look any stranger than what already meets the eyes. . Unlike the previous district who was filled with energy, this place is quite tranquil considering it is a more major district of the capital.

Eyes constantly scanning the area, you felt yourself stopped at a particular parlour. Approaching the stall, you took your time admiring the items that were put on for sale.

Grazing over the various accessories, you smiled at how detailed the carvings are. Feeling your finger twitch at a certain ornament, you brought it closer for inspection. Hooking the look around your finger, you twirl it around to test its stability.

Not bad.

“ Owner, are there any other colors or designs for this?”

Clasping her hand in excitement, the owner hurriedly displayed the other designs available.

Eyes sparkling in interest, you inspect ones that caught your sight but couldn’t decide on which one to buy. Seeing your uncertainty, the owner said, “ If you don’t mind me asking but who is it you plan on giving it to?”

Looking up to look at her eyes that had started to droop from old age, you politely smiled. “ I am planning to buy it for a… a friend.”

Raising her eyebrows at your reply, the owner took a moment to look over at the collection, “ Is there anything in particular that stands out about them?”

“ … sunshine.”

Looking back and forth between you and the collection before she boldly handed you an ornament. Graciously accepting the ornament, you take a second to inspect the item.

“ This norigae* is sewn from one of the most popular materials this year. Even though the threads are sewn together, similar to a rope, it is very soft yet also extremely steady. The customer had said that your friend holds similarity to the sun so I thought that the golden color would suit them.”

Nodding at her observance, you happily accepted her advice. “ Thank you. I will take this one.”

Returning the ornament back to her, you looked down again at the accessories before spotting a few that had caught your eyes.

“ Owner, please also pack these up for me,” you said, pointing at a few items, “ Here is the money. Keep the change.”

Bowing at her in gratitude, you accepted the wooden box containing your goods before heading to the tea house. On the way, you once again tuck the box in your sleeves in case of any ill intentions roaming around.

Resuming your previous pace, you continue to scavenge around the district while on your way back to the tea house. Amidst the way, you noticed an inconsistent pattern of people that were accumulating in front of a store nearby, coincidentally blocking your path.

I must be aligned with crowds today, you sighed.

After standing in the same spot for a few moments, you begrudgingly put on a brave face and courageously walk toward the crowd, hoping to not be pulled to pieces.

Taking a deep breath at a particular hard jab, you desperately sucked in the warm, moist air around you, trying to not groan too loudly. Tightening your stomach in an attempt to make yourself seem smaller, you try your best to push through the crowd of people.

Hissing at a young lady that had bumped into you, stepping on your toe in the process, you suddenly found yourself stuck in the center, with no available escape route.

Sighing at your unfortunate situation, regretting your decision, you were suddenly aware of the admiring gazes that wee being pulled. Looking around in curiosity, you wondered why everyone was looking so intrigued … until you heard the strings of the gayageum* being plucked.

Ears on alert at the melody that was being played, you turned your head in the direction, your feet unconsciously headed towards the music until you were just behind a few other bypassers.

Once you had registered what was happening, your eyes widened in surprise at the main highlight of the performance.

Hoseok.

There he was, your Noble Consort, was at the center, seemingly carrying all the major parts of the piece, giving no care to the crowd that had surrounded him. Eyes closed, Hoseok let himself go and simply followed the flow of the music, in a complete trance where the only thing that existed was himself and the melody.

Robes fluttering along with his movement, Hoseok continue to move with th music, seemingly becoming one with the melody.

Speechless at the scene that is happening in front of you, you stared at his dancing figure in complete silence, completely forgetting where you are, too focus on Hoseok, himself. It also seemed that you were too involved in the performance that you, also gave no care to your surroundings.

Eyes staring at Hoseok, at his every movement— twirls, turns, and jumps, you engulfed yourself to enjoy the performance, deciding to put away your questions for later.

Slowly, one song after another ended yet Hoseok still kept dancing while you kept your eyes glued on him. No matter how many times you were pushed around, or the constant change in neighbours, you still remained in your spot only snapping out of your daze at a particular hard push.

Eyes glaring at the intruding figure, you shake your head to clear up your mind. Noticing at the slow change in melody indicating that the song was about to end, you looked at Hoseok one last time before turning around and returning to your tracks, this time making sure to not go off it.

At least I know I’m not the only one who’s late.

As you calmly walk through the street, the scene that had unfolded in front of your eyes kept coming back. Hoseok’s smooth yet sharp moves, soft yet powerful gestures, and how he managed to control the air around him made you more curious about him.

Who exactly are you?

Silently entering the tea house, you were too deep into your thought that you had even dismissed the greetings of the servants and instead just followed their lead to your previous spot.

“ Give me a serving of the sweets to go,” you mindless order.

Leaning back against the chair, you glanced down the window, searching for Hoseok’s incoming figure. However, you soon find out that he wasn’t going to come anytime soon. Even after receiving your sweets, Hoseok still did not come.

Placing the money down on the table, you grabbed the sweets and left the establishment and instead settled for the outside stairs to wait for him. Feeling your skin itch in agitation, you feel your anxiety increase as the minute goes by.

Where is he?

Feeling your mood getting increasingly worse, you accidentally growled at a man that accidentally touched you. Apologizing was a hazy memory when you were in this current state yet you still find yourself waiting, somehow not finding the need to go and find him yourself. However, in all of foolishness, Hoseok is bound to get at least a few of your lectures.

Finally, after the moon was halfway on its route, a familiar figure finally appeared. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know existed, you ruffled your hair in both relief and frustration; both emotions aiming at him.

“ Where have you been?”

Flinching at your cold tone, Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Instead, he opted to look down at the floor, in shame.

“ Did you realize what time it is?” You asked, “ When did we agree to meet?”

Once again, you were met with absolute silence. At this time, most of the stores and parlours had closed with only a few lanterns available to illuminate the street.

However, unlike the calm and tranquil the cool night should bring you, you felt a wave of frustration engulf you. In the back of your mind, you thanked your abilities to heal the wounds in time. Because without it, the wound would have already reopened with how hard you were clenching your arm.

Aside from your blazing eyes and your tense grasp on your sword, Hoseok couldn’t find any other evidence of your anger. However, even without any evidence, he knew that you were letting out anything but positive energy.

“ Whatever, we’ll talk about this at a later date,” you said, drawing a shaky sigh before presenting your arm, “ Let’s go.”

Looking at your arm, Hoseok hesitantly holds onto it before letting himself be dragged by you.

The silence presented during your guys’ walk was what Hoseok had expected when he accepted your invitation. However, he also understood the reason for why such a tense sensation was presented and was not naturally there.

As you approached the palace gates, you let go of Hoseok’s hand, reaching into your sleeve to take out your hopae*. When the guard spotted your tag, he immediately opened the gate, letting you both in. Before going in, you reached over to Hoseok to entangle your hand with his, not saying anything at his surprised expression. Thankfully, Hoseok also followed the flow and didn’t comment on your actions.

During the way to the Noble Consort’s courtyard, an eunuch had run over, offering to help guide you but was answered by a denial. Instead, you took the lantern from his hands and dismissed him.

Once you both were finally in front of Hoseok’s courtyard, you finally let go of his hand. Hoseok, who was about to bow to you, stopped when he saw you reach into your sleeve, seemingly looking for something.

Unlatching the rope that had secured the box, you quickly took out the norigae that you previously brought. Throwing it over to Hoseok’s direction, you turned around and began to walk to your courtyard, not looking at his reaction.

“ A souvenir from me. If it’s not to your fancy, throw it away.”

Hastily catching the item that you had disposed into his hands, he confusingly looked at it before realizing what it was. Grazing over the norigae fondly, Hoseok carefully untangled the knots. Grasping the ornament tightly, he felt his lips turn upward at your gestures. Bringing it close to his chest, he looked at your disappearing figure, attentively.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Within the next month of the announcement, news of the arrival of the new consorts began to enter the palace, and eventually, reaching the court. The ministers and officials were overjoyed at the news, happy that they were still sending over the candidates despite your announcement.

Unlike others who were happy about the consorts’ arrival, Taehyung was still soured over the news, as well as your choice.

Despite Taehyung’s obvious disapproval, it was customary for you to at least spend a night with each consort in the first week, especially if they were from a different country.

On your first night of the three, you met your first choice from the piles of possible candidates.

Sato Chungho, was a righteous man who had an outstanding record and an ambition in politics. He was so intrigued by it that you had spent the entire night talking about the subject.

“ Politics, you say?” You asked curiously as you propped your chin on your hand.

Chungho enthusiastically nodded, eyes trained on your every movement. “ Yes, your majesty.”

You hummed, “ Why are you suddenly bringing this up?”

Looking down at his hands, Chungho fidgets with the fabric of his attire. “ I had heard that your majesty is well versed in this field. Since I have met you, I … I knew that love would never be able to blossom between the two of u—”

“ Why would you say that?” You interrupted, eyes peering down at him in interest.

“ You might not know this, your majesty but you have been a very popular topic in Shihoma. Previously, we all had known about how terrible the Corea’s monarch was but since your arrival, everyone couldn’t help but be intrigued by how you managed to take him down. More importantly, the way you handled this Consort Selection both showcases your dominance and how you’re not afraid to flaunt it. Many would have to think twice about doing this, especially for a country that has yet to establish a good reputation.”

“ Then wouldn’t my actions be considered to be reckless. If you think about it, won’t it be easy for other countries to fight ours since it’s so vulnerable right now?”

Chungho shakes his head, “ It would be unlikely because most people know that most of the soldiers had gone to your side before and during the rebellion. You didn’t lose that many soldiers so attacking you is not a minor matter.”

Raising your eyebrows at his answer, you nodded your head. “ Then what would you like?”

“ I would like…” Chungho gulped, “ to learn more about politics under you.”

A potential.

Cracking a smile at his uncertainty, you stand up from your seat. Waving your hands to signal him to come over, you invited, “ Come. Play a game of go with me.”

With that, Chungho giddily accepted your invitation and both of you found yourself spending the entire night indulged in all the games you had available.

On the second night, things turned out to be more interesting with the second consort.

“ Chin-Hae means the truth and a vast ocean, correct?” You had asked.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ And you’re a son of a merchant?”

“ Yes, your majesty.”

Scanning at him from top to the bottom, and bottom to top, you couldn’t decipher the unsettled feeling that is blooming within your chest. You have been caught up in many situations where there is a sense of familiarity despite being strangers. And this is one of those situations.

“ You look familiar.”

“ I am afraid that we have never meet until today,” he said, “ However, you might have find my demeanour similar to some of the envoys that are currently residing in the palace.”

“ … you’re from Xin May yet you behave like the Ecenyths, you must have travelled quite a bit.”

“ As a merchant’s child, I have started travelling since I could even remember. However, I did spent a reasonable amount of time in Ecenyth.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “ Tell me the stories of the land you have visited.”

“ Where would you like to hear first, your majesty?”

“ … Xin May,” you decided, “ Tell me the culture, people, myths, legends. Anything of interest to your home country.”

Chin-Hae smiled, “ Yes, your majesty.”

As a result, you spent the entire night listening to the various stories from Chin-Hae; from the land’s culture to personal experiences and connection, Chin-Hae had told it in such an interesting manner that it captivated you every step of the way. He truly is a merchant.

I wonder if Seokjin is also good at storytelling.

On the third and final night, you were beyond exhausted with being deprived of sleep for two days straight and the constant piles that were presented on your desk. Thus, you didn’t have as much energy as usual and hoped that today will be like the other two.

Turns out, the third time was really the charm since it was completely different from the rest.

Entering your bedroom, you wanted nothing more than to fall onto the bed and travel to dreamland. Feet dragging your slouched body to the familiarity of your bed, you were suddenly hit with the realization of the slight change in the room’s placement.

Sobering up at the thought of an intrusion, you glared at every change in your normally simple chamber, feeling the irritation in you double. Aside from the difference in decor, the usual scent of lavender that would caress your skin was replaced with an overpowering scent of perfume. Feeling a headache reappearing, you sluggishly walked towards your bed only to be met with a big clump covered by a thin, transparent fabric.

The person must have noticed your speechless demeanour when they let out soft, high-pitched giggles. Normally, you would have define the noise as angelic but with your non-sobered state, fondness was not on top of the list.

Harshly grabbing the fabric, you forcefully tugged it off the figure and threw it to the floor. Looking into the bright yet hazy black orbs, you find yourself not knowing what to do.

“ Greetings to your majesty.”

Squinting your eyes in an attempt to find familiarity in the person in front to you but unable to do so, you find yourself speechless of what to say nor do. Suddenly, you realized that he was the one who you have chosen randomly, a person that you didn’t even bother knowing the name of.

Turning the other way, guiltily, you refused to look into the person’s eye, ashamed as what you did that day. However, the person seated on your bed took your action as an attempt to distance yourself away from him. As a result, he sneakily reach out his hand to touch your clenched ones.

Shivering at the chilling skin that had enveloped into your warmer ones, you looked at him, waiting to see what he would do.

As if knowing what you were hinting, the person took the opportunity to pull you to him, successfully setting you seated next to him.

Taking a deep breath, you could define the different fragrances that he was using.

Rose, with a light note of chamomile, citrus, lavender? No, what is it?

Confused at what you were smelling, you didn’t notice the roaming hands that were venturing your body until it travelled to your thigh. In a moment of panic, you pushed him away from you, shocking him in the process.

“ You… what’s your name?”

Yet to recover from the sudden shove, the male hastily replied, “ P-park Jimin, your majesty.”

Awkwardly nodding at his answer, you make sure to raise your hands, signalling that you meant no harm. “ I apologize, Jimin-ssi. There was so much work that I seemed to forget your name,” you said, shuffling away.

You knew that lying was bad in this situation but you also knew that saying that he was chosen in a matter of luck was worse. In other terms, he was lucky to be picked and wasn’t picked based on his capabilities unlike the other two.

There’s no way that I’ll tell him that.

Once again, using the opening of you drifting off, Jimin approached you, hands delicately running up your legs, eyes glimmering with mischief and flirtatiousness.

Speechless at what he was doing, you could only stare as he continued to venture across the span of your skin. Gently prying his hands off you, you push Jimin away. This time, on alert for any of his upcoming initiatives.

“ So tell me about yourself,” you said, brushing off what had just happened.

Staring at you confusingly, Jimin’s finger twitches in agitation. “ Why are you doing this?”

“ What do you mean?” You asked, scrunching up your nose.

“ Why are you asking these questions when you already know the answer?” He asked, eyes hiding behind his bangs.

“ I apologize, it seems that I have offended you. These past few days have been so busy that I haven't had the time to go over your profile yet.”

“ You didn’t even have the time to look into me?” He murmured, eyes locked on the velvet sheets.

You waved your hand in a hurry, protesting. “ Of course not. I sincerely apologize. I truly didn’t have the time to do so.”

Part of it was true while the other wasn’t being told. Yes, you have been extremely busy that you didn’t have any spare time and would go to sleep straight away after you return to your courtyard. However, you also did pick Jimin randomly, thus not having the fresh opportunity to look at his portrait.

You were really regretting your decisions of following the ministers’ miscellaneous plans.

Picking his head up, you propped them on top of your hand, directly looking into his own. Seeing his stunned expression because of your initiatives was something unexpectedly amusing; plushed lips puckered out to form a pout, a crimson shade that is spreading along the span of his cheeks, and eyes widen in such a manner that you almost couldn’t stop yourself from cooing about his cuteness.

Regretting at not seeing his painted portrait, you wonder if the artist managed to capture his beauty.

Smiling gently at your gestures, Jimin blinks continuously to try and seduce you.

Smirking at his antiques, you followed whatever he was luring you into before trapping him under your body. Arms placed on either side of him, Jimin bravely looked at you, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner.

Lowering yourself until you were barely above him, you whispered into his ear, “ What do you think you’re doing.”

Feeling an unfamiliar sensation blooming within his core, Jimin unhurriedly replied, “ Whatever your majesty wants to do, I will follow.”

Smirking at his response, you continue to tease him by grazing your finger lightly across his skin, similar to what he had done to you. Seeing him squirm at the feeling was definitely a sight to see; amidst your teasing, you could even see a slight change in demeanour for a moment before it was covered by the previous thin layer of lust.

How interesting.

“ Oh really?”

Shivering at the moisture of your breath, Jimin couldn’t help but anticipate what was about to happen. However, his fantasize was cut short when he was no longer pinned down, the previous pressure dissipating into the air.

Pulling away from Jimin, you turned around, starting to take off your robe. “ You may stay here if you wish. We can talk about whatever but nothing related to what we just did.”

“ … So you just wanted to tease me?”

Clenching your fist at his question, you shakily replied, “ I apologize. I… I wanted to find out something.”

Jimin bit his lip, eyes glaring at your back. “ And that gives you the need to tease me? You may be my master, your majesty. But I am still a human who has feelings.”

“ … I apologize.”

“ Apologies, apologies,” Jimin huffed out, “ If you don’t want me here then I will leave.”

Standing up, Jimin takes the fabric, previously thrown to the floor and wrapped it around himself. Walking past you, Jimin didn’t look at you and instead focused on the door. Pushing the doors open, Jimin was about to leave but was suddenly pulled back.

Gasping at the pulling force, Jimin staggered backwards into your chest. “ I did say that I would let you leave but I didn’t agree to you leaving while in such a foul mood.”

Now, against your chest, you and Jimin were at the same height, none towering over the other but within your presence, Jimin found himself cowering under your watchful eyes.

“ W-what do you want now?”

“ I want to apologize to you,” you said, “ What do you want me to do?”

Turning around to look into your eyes, Jimin undoubtedly could sense your genuinity. Still trapped in your embrace, Jimin took his time to think and weigh the possible outcomes.

“ You would do whatever I say?”

“ If it’s reasonable, yes. I would do anything.”

Taking into consideration of your words, Jimin giddily thought up of various options. “ Then… give me jewelry as compensation.”

“ Jewelry? What do you want specifically?”

“ Anything that shows your favour in me. Things that would make people envy my position by your side.”

You nodded, agreeing with his terms. “ I will have something prepared for you by tomorrow and sent to your courtyard. For now…”

Looking over at your drawers, eyes sparkling up at the idea. Unlatching your arms around Jimin, you walked up to your drawers. Pulling a small drawer, you gingerly searched around before pulling a certain item out.

Returning to where you previously were, you gestured for him to turn around. You carefully placed the accessories against his skin, encasing the knot to secure the necklace in place. “ Keep this as a promise that I will fulfill my role.”

Grasping the pendant, Jimin looked over the design in awe before cracking a smile.

Seeing his smile, you commented, “ I see that you ar—“

“ Acceptable,” Jimin arrogantly said.

“ I’m glad,” you said, walking towards the table, pouring yourself a cup of tea, “ Let’s have a proper conversation now, shall we?”

Rolling his eyes at your comment, Jimin clenched the fabric wrapped around him before heading towards the table, taking a seat opposite of you.

“ Now, what can I know about you, Jimin-ssi.”

“ You don’t need to be that formal. Please call me Jimin.”

You smiled, “ Gladly.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ Now tell me about the Scavenge Disaster.”

Hastily going through the notes that he had memorized yesterday, Jungkook clumsily replied, “ The Scavenged Disaster was a breakout of droughts in the southern regions forcing many to go get refuge in other places?”

“ Continue.”

“ Mhmm.. the Sca—”

“ Say it with more confidence,” Taehyung interrupted.

Shooting him a glare, you scrunched up your eyebrows in frustration. Opening your mouth, you were about to say something when Taehyung continued to interrupt you.

“ How can you not remember the basics?” He degraded once he saw the hesitation that still lingered in Jungkook’s eyes.

Eyes widening at his words, you shouted, “ Royal Consort! Be careful with your words!”

Rolling his eyes at your word, Taehyung leaned back against his seat and focused on Jungkook, waving his hand for him to continue.

Shaking your head, you roughly slumped down into your seat, ignoring the stare that Jungkook was giving you.

Swallowing all the tension down, Jungkook went back to what he has been doing, now, even more agitated.

From the start of today’s lesson, the intensity of the air in the room was at an abnormal level. You all have noticed the change but no one put in the effort to address it.

“ When did this occur?”

“ Ten years before the previous dynasty ended.”

“ How old were you then?”

“ I was… ten at that time.”

“ I heard that you were constantly out of the palace,” you said, “ Must have been hard for you.” Nonchalantly looking down at the papers on the table, you didn’t caught Taehyung’s soured gaze.

“ Ten? You’re barely an adult now. Must have been a little brat,” Taehyung commented.

Sighing, you tiredly looked over at him, “ Brat? Look at you right now. You’re the brattiest yet.”

Taehyung scowled at your comment, “ Whatever. What has this lesson turned into? A personal bonding time for the two of you? Forget it, we’re done for today. I’m not in the mood for it.”

“ Jungkook you may go,” you dismissed him, letting out an exhausted sigh, and rubbed your tensed eyebrows. Seeing Taehyung also standing up, you were quick to confront him, “ You, dear Royal Consort, is staying until I tell you otherwise.”

Turning around, Taehyung looked at you with raised eyebrows, challenging you. “ You can’t control me.”

“ As long as I have the crown, there is nothing I can’t get my hands onto, including you.”

Huffing at your comment, Taehyung slumped down into his seat, not looking at you.

“ Why are you like this?” You asked, frustrated.

“ Why are you asking me? Ask yourself!” He yelled out, disbelief clearly adorned on his face.

“ What did I do?”

“ You took in three other consorts!”

“ I was forced to!”

“ You’re the owner of this land, no one can control you.” He said, using your comment as payback.

You chewed on your cheek at your words getting backfired. “ It's a minor problem, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“ Minor problem? Sure it is. So incredibly small that it caused chaos in the imperial court, agitating all the ministers.”

“ If you’re worried about them interrupting ou—”

“ I don’t care about the plan. What if they fancy you!” He retorted, pouting at his own words.

Eyebrows raised at Taehyung’s tantrum, you unconsciously lean back to enjoy the show.

“ You’re worried that they will gain power if they have my favour?”

“ That too,” Taehyung muttered.

“ Don’t worry. Chung-ho and Chin-Hae aren’t in the mindset of settling down,” you reassured, “ Chung-ho is too busy with his interest in politics while Chin-Hae will be travelling.”

During your guys’ little talk, you had personally promised to give Chin-Hae the privilege to exit the palace at will in return for little souvenirs that he will bring back. This may sound immature but you have plans for those items.

“ You guys are on first-name-basis now? Whatever, whatever, whatever... Then what about the third one?” He asked.

You tilted your head confusingly, not able to hear what he just said. “ What did you say?”

Taehyung looked at you, eyes piercing into your own. “ I asked about the third one. Jimin was it?”

“ Jimin?” You pulled out, chewing on your head as you remember what had happened on your guys’ first meeting. “ I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouted, “ Then there is still a possibility!”

“ If you don’t trust my words then go see for yourself.”

At your words, Taehyung turned around and walked out. “ I will.”

I will see for myself what you all have.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

A week later, Taehyung upholds his promise by arranging an informal afternoon tea meetup with the rest of the harem. He definitely needed to see how these consorts are faring.

Seated in the middle of the round table where every person that comes and goes is in his vision field, Taehyung patiently waited for all the guests to arrive.

Slowly, the Blue Pearl garden started to get crowded by people, surrounding the table situated under the gazebo.

On his left, seated the Imperial Consort, the only consort that he, the Royal Consort has to show some face to.

It is best said that the relationship between the Imperial Consort and himself is not the best but it’s also not the worst.

We just don’t align, is what he would like to say.

Maybe in another situation, he and the Imperial Consort can find a common ground but in a harem, he is barely able to keep it under his control without the interference of another party. As a result, if’s they can’t be acquaintances then being neutrals would do.

Naturally, the farther they are to the host, the inferior their status is, meaning that when those new consorts arrive, they will be on the opposite side of him. More specifically, facing him directly on this round table.

On his right, there sat the eldest Noble Consort, who was all too busy with looking at the surrounding to spare him no mind.

I must agree to what Y/N had said. Childlike yet witty.

Perking up at another incoming group, Taehyung smiled in greeting. “ Ah, Consort Sato, welcome. Take a seat next to Noble Consort Jung.”

Bowing down in greetings, Chungho smiled at Taehyung’s words. “ Greetings to the Royal Consort, Imperial Consort Min, and Noble Consort Jung,” he said before heading towards the seat next to Hoseok’s

At least this kid knows manners.

Taehyung smiled in satisfaction, “ Good. I like you.”

“ I’m honoured to be in your favour.”

“ The Consort Yang has arrived!” The eunuch outside announced.

Turning his attention towards the entrance, Taehyung gently nodded in greetings, already not liking the person with a tacky smile.

Unlike Chungho, who was dressed in the imperial hanbok, expected of a concubine’s status; and behaved in a way much like so. Chin-Hae, instead wore the clothes of his homeland, and put on a disgustingly confident smile.

Normally, Taehyung would have overlooked this as he is also interested in ways one can express themselves through fashion but when that person is his rival, he simply can’t overlook it.

Like understanding what he was trying to convey, a maid by his side stood up. “ Consort Wang sure is unique.”

Instead of being offended, Chin-Hae beamed at her words.

Seeing his expression, Taehyung also smiled in amusement. “ Take a seat, Consort Yang.”

Interesting.

“ I heard that Xin May is a really energetic country.”

“ The epicenter for festivals and entertainment,” Taehyung piped in, casually.

“ It really is. I would say that I am forced to attend at least a dozen festivals every year. And that doesn’t even account to the ones specific to each region.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Hoseok leaned forward in curiosity. “ That must really be eventful.”

“ Sounds like you were busy.”

“ I really wasn’t. Besides, I would trade time for the smallest chance of getting to attend. Unfortunately, my father is trying to train me to inherit the business. Days fill with work and politics is too much for me to cope, however...” Chin-Hae denied, sighing at the thought of the constant work piles.

Blinking at his words, Hoseok commented, “ Right, I heard that Consort Sato is interested in politics from your majesty. Is it true?”

Looking up from his hands, Consort Sato bashfully nodded. “ I have been interested in politics since childhood but was never allowed to have any information on it.”

“ You enjoy politics? Such a unique hobby.”

Taehyung opened his mouth, preparing to say something when he was suddenly interrupted with an announcement.

“ Consort Park has arrived!”

Raising his eyebrows at the incoming figure, Taehyung propped his head on top of his hand.

Now, this is a sight to see.

Compared to the rest, Jimin’s attire was overly done. From the expensive materials that were used, to the intricate designs that were sew onto the fabric, one could definitely tell that he was born noble.

With every step, the bells of his bracelet could be heard jingling as Jimin draws closer to the gazebo. Putting on a confident smile, Jimin did a slight bow in greetings, hands clasped over his chest.

“ Consort Park certainly is prepared,” Chin-Hae commented, astonished at his attire.

“ I thank the Consort Yang for the compliment.”

Taehyung bitterly smiled at the act, feeling his slowly adrenaline rise.

“ Please take a seat, Consort Park. The sun is already in its third quarter and the event has yet to start. Without any further interrupti—”

“ Apologies, apologies, Royal Consort. I had to do some work and forgot the time. I didn’t miss out on anything major, did I?” A booming voice exclaimed, racing from the entrance to where they were.

Taehyung scowled at the familiar voice, eyes glaring at the rushed figure.

“ Merchant of the South,” Hoseok greeted.

Like who Hoseok had said, the steps of Seokjin grew closer to the gazebo, face brightened up at the sight in front of him. Stopping meters away from the entrance, Seokjin bent down to a bow in greeting. “ Greetings to the Consorts.”

“ I was not aware that you were invited.”

“ Apologies, I immediately rushed over the moment I heard that you were holding tea time.”

You knew that you were not invited and yet…, Taehyung rolled mentally rolled his eyes before looking to the side, silently motioning for the arrangements to be done.

Nodding at his signal, the person focused on the preparations, no longer caring at the stares he was receiving.

“ Seems like you knew that you were not invited,” Yoongi straightforwardly pointed out, “ Why are you here then?”

Motioning the maid to go get another chair, Hoseok added, “ Are you here to greet the new consorts?”

“ Partially. I was getting curious at the uprising of the new trio and wanted to go see for myself.”

Unlike others, Jimin reacted at the comment by clenching his jaded fist. Staring like I’m an animal, how daring.

Looking around, Jimin noticed how no one was fazed by Seokjin’s words, secretly stunned at how nonchalantly all of them are until his eyes met with Yoongi’s. Flusteredly looking away, Jimin made a move to smooth out his attire, fidgeting with the fabric along the way.

“ Apologies, only those who have been given permission to attend can do so,” Taehyung's eyes narrowed Seokjin’s figure, “ Besides, I believe the envoy has much better things to attend to than some measly tea event.”

The merchant shook his head in disapproval, “ Attending this event is also part of my duties. The emperor has specifically ordered me to visit the consorts frequently to build a better relationship with them… Also, it had seemed that I was not the only one that came without being invited.” After that, Seokjin’s eyes automatically set its attention on the person behind the table of herbs.

The host smiled, grabbing his wooden fan on the table before flicking it open, gently oscillating it, “ Hmm?... Ah, care to answer that by yourself?”

Setting down the equipment, Namjoon unhurriedly waited for all the boiled water to drain from the pot before gently placing it on the tray. Motioning the maids to bring it, Namjoon made his way to the centre table, smiling all the way. Stopping a couple of steps behind Taehyung, Namjoon clasped his left hand over his right and bowed, “ I apologize for not greeting you, Consorts… Envoy of Ecenyth. Thanks to the Royal Consort, I have the honour of concocting all the drinks that will be served.”

Scanning up and down, Jimin observed Namjoon’s manners, picking up the Royal Consort’s obvious favour towards him. So he is on his side, or maybe… Jimin smiled at the thought which skillfully got hidden by a tea cup placed in front of him.

“ Concocting? Sounds like this will have many benefits.”

“ Of course, Noble Consort Jung. It wouldn’t be right of me to not prepare a nutritious drink,” Namjoon explained.

Hoseok only smiled but made no attempt to reach out for the cup. “ Please sit down, envoy. Why not have a cup of tea while you are here?” He offered once he realized Seokjin was still standing.

Smiling gratefully, Seokjin quietly slipped on to the seat that was just delivered.

Scanning around, Taehyung noted how not a single person had consumed the tea. “ Why aren’t you tasting it? This variety is quite fragrant and won’t be as nutritious if taken cold,” Taehyung commented, letting out a teasing smile, “ Perhaps you all are afraid that it is poisoned?”

Feeling the people around him tensed at his blunt words, Taehyung picked up his own cup before taking a sip from it, flipping it over to show he had finished it. “ See? Now, drink up.”

Sighing at Taehyung’s words, Yoongi deadpanned at how appetizing and easy it was to step into his trap. How annoying, he thought, glancing at Namjoon before staring into his own. Yoongi gracefully lifted the cup to his nasal, taking in a whiff of its scent. Placing the porcelain edge against his lips, Yoongi carefully took a sip. “ Not poisoned.”

Making eye contact with Hoseok, Yoongi subtly nodded, confirming what he previously said was true. Relying on his words, Hoseok also took a sip and smiled at the pleasant taste. “ Such a smooth taste.”

Taehyung smiled, at least we work considerably well together.

“ I’m glad that this tea has satisfied you.”

“ Move on to the next course,” Taehyung ordered, “ I hope you all haven’t ate anything today.”

At his command, the surrounding servants were put to work. Skilfully replacing the dishes placed on the tables with new ones, one can see the obvious change in style.

“ The decorations have changed,” Chin-Hae commented, looking at the sight in front of him in amazement.

Giggling at his comment, Taehyung nodded. “ Of course. Now that we are waiting on the next course, allow me to explain today's concept,” taehyung started, picking up the previous course’s cup, “ With each change in course, a new course will be bestowed based on a designated season. The previous was spring, this time will be summer, eventually becoming autumn and winter.”

Eyes sparkling at Taehyung’s voice, Jimin couldn’t help but clasp an exaggerated gesture over his petite face in awe. “ Such consideration the Royal Consort has put in.”

Taehyung nodded his head in gratitude, continuing to swing his fan back and forth.

“ Unlike spring, summer is considerably heavier so the Royal Consort has highlighted the use of fruits?” Hoseok asked.

“ Correct. Do you know the reason why?”

“ Because summer has the largest spectrum in terms of fruits.”

Snorting at his words, Taehyung said, “ Of course, envoy. However, aside from the taste, there is another factor to why I have put it here.”

“ Why?” Chungho asked, curious.

“ It’s because fresh fruits symbolises vitality, youth, abundance… and fertility,” Taehyung smiled. “Either way, isn’t it the perfect description of the Nurturing Solstice?”

Blushing at the Royal Consort’s indications, Jimin couldn't help but wonder what his life will now be like.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ They were talking about the Nurturing Solstice?” You asked, “ Taehyung must have had a fun time.”

Compared to the past, the current Nurturing solstice is quite watered down. Previously, the Nurturing Solstice did not only mark the start of a new harvest season but also the start of something more humanly— something more mature.

“ Yes, the new consorts were blushing at the Royal Consort’s openness.”

“ Let him have his fun. Cooping up in the palace isn’t good for anyone,” you said, “ Right, make sure to keep an eye on the new consorts, especially Chin-Hae.”

Clenching his hands, Chin-Hwa clumsily bowed at you tonal command, “ yes, your majesty.”

Glancing at his posture from your spot, you observed how uncomposed he became. Sighing, you leaned against the window frame, gazing out of the window. “ The sky is darkening.”

“ Yes, you majesty. It is estimated that the storm will go on for at least three days.”

You hummed at his reply, “ As expected… an abrupt change is about to occur.”

Tilting his head at your sudden comment, Chin-Hwa shot you a confused glance.

Dismissing his stare, you continue to stare at the sky.

It’s just that I don’t know how though.

~MintVender ( 19/05/21 )

Definitions:

Norigae - a traditional korean accessory that is usually hung at the waist at a person. It acts as a fashion item as well as a good-luck charm to bring youth and wealth to the person.

Gayageum - a Korean board zieuter, with 12 silk strings, and 12 movable bridges. Made from paulownia wood, he zither is about 160cm(62 inches) long and 30cm(12 inches) wide.

Hopae - an identification tag that carries the bearer’s name, place of birth, status, residence during the Joseon dynasty.

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jphbk1982 · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, WWE NXT - Fandom, Professional Wrestling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Indi Hartwell/Dexter Lumis | Samuel Shaw Characters: Indi Hartwell, Dexter Lumis | Samuel Shaw Summary:

What happened when Dexter took Indi to medical after she faked being unconscious in the 8 person tag? Why was she so happy when she showed up to the interview with The Way later?

Had this idea floating around in my brain for a while, decided to get it out. Hope you like it. More InDex stories to come later. Link above or read below:

“Medical”

Indi half-opened her eyes as she bounced slightly with the rhythmic footsteps of the man who was holding her. He was staring straight ahead with a purpose. He turned them effortlessly through a doorway and past the gym. A slight repositioning of her body as their respective sweat caused her skin to be slippery in his arms.

She watched him and fought hard the urge to give up her ruse right now and attempt another kiss. Instead, she became transfixed on his profile. She was struck by how handsome he actually was. Not scary at all like so many people would lead you to believe. She saw warmth and a softness in his blue eyes as they began to dart around in search of something.

A quick spin to allow him to push a door open with his backside and Dexter had carried her all the way to the office of the trainer and medical team. He stood holding her and Indi heard people approaching them. As they got closer for a moment Dexter stepped back slightly.

"Just... um... put her down over here," Indi recognized the voice of the head of the medical team. She cringed a little realizing her ruse had led her to this point. She was being walked over to an open table now. Just as Dexter started to hover her over the table to release her she clenched her grip around his neck tightly.

The action prompted Dexter to look down at her for the first time since he had taken her into his arms. She started to open her mouth to speak and explain but something about his eyes. It rendered her as momentarily mute as he was.

He was cocking his head slightly at her now and she felt she should probably speak. So she cleared her throat a little and stole a glance over at the still awaiting medical staff. She knew she was blushing she could feel it in her face.

"I... um... I'm fine," Indi cringed slightly as the words left her mouth. She watched Dexter's face for a reaction. She didn't get much, just a slight raise of his eyebrows. He took his eyes off her and immediately she craved his gaze. He was looking up at the others in the room with a blank look on his face.

After just a moment he managed to slightly shrug with her still firmly in his arms. The motion making her involuntarily giggle. This got his attention again. His eyes were scanning all over her face. She was sure to most this would be uncomfortable but she was finding herself welcoming it.

She suddenly felt his grip on her loosen and she was being lowered to her feet. She wanted to protest but couldn't bring herself to. He sat her down and stood directly in front of her to make eye contact with her. She snuck a peek down his bare chest and noticed his breathing, she found it to be completely in sync with her own as she moved a hand up to touch his chest.

Before skin could touch skin he backed away from her. Slowly at first, seemingly unsure of her. She inched closer and this only prompted to him withdraw and turn to walk out of the room, leaving her standing there with an outstretched hand and a wounded heart.

"Are you okay?" A voice from behind her barely registered as she purposefully jogged from the room and into the hall.

"Wait," Indi's voice was not loud. No one outside of the immediate area would have heard it. He did though. She watched as Dexter stopped just at the door leading out into the large training area of the Performance Center.

He kept his back to her but turned his head to acknowledge he had heard her. He was denying her the eye contact she craved so she inched closer to him. She could feel her heart racing. If it went any faster she might end up actually needing a medic.

"Don't go..." Indi echoed her earlier sentiment. The sound of her voice causing him to turn more in her direction. Still not fully facing her but his eyes were on her now.

She smiled upon seeing this. She didn't expect him to smile in return of course. She had never seen that. However, he did finish doing the turn and faced her fully now. That was enough. She opened her mouth to speak and his eyes moved down to her lips, effectively derailing her train of thought for a moment.

"I... um..." Indi stammered. She gestured behind her at the room they had just exited. "Thanks... for... you know... bringing me to get checked out..."

His eyes darted past her momentarily and then settled back onto her face.

"Even if you know... I didn't really need it," Indi shrugged. His body language changed again and he started to turn from her.

"Wait..." She took a chance and reached for his hand. This gesture seemed to truly shock him as his eyes widened and he raised their respective hands into his line of sight.

Indi gave his hand a soft squeeze in hopes of getting him to look at her again. It worked.

"Are you upset... I'm sorry that I was pretending to be hurt..." Indi stated. She watched his face for signs of recognition of his words. His expression didn't really change but his head dipped just a little, she took that as a sign he understood what she was saying.

Indi was suddenly keenly aware they were still holding hands and she felt her face flushing again. She ducked her head slightly. She was completely gobsmacked by what happened next.

Dexter's hand was so gently on her chin as it coaxed her to look back up to him. She smiled in response to his action and his demeanor changed. His posture loosened and his own face seemed to be on the verge of a smile.

"I did it because..." Indi took in a big breath in an attempt to spit the next words all out without taking another. "I really like you and I just wanted you to hold me and I thought... hoped maybe you could like me too."

She was searching his face desperately now for even the slightest hint of something. Anything.

He stepped closer to her and Indi genuinely felt like she might faint. She had never felt an adrenaline rush like this moment. Something about Dexter was dangerous, but in every way, you could possibly crave it. He was inches from her face now and his eyes were locked into hers, unmoving.

"Do... do... you?" Indi whispered.

A slight nod and curl in the corner of his mouth might as well have been an outright declaration of undying love for how it made Indi feel. She was beaming now.

"You mean it?" Indi asked, her voice still a whisper.

Another nod.

"What do we do now?" Indi's voice was back to its usual register.

His eyes moved back down to her lips and she understood exactly. She leaned in and their lips made the lightest of touches before the door to the hallway behind them opened, and Dexter stiffened and released her hand.

"Hey Indi... Johnny and Candice are flipping out trying to find you... I think McKenzie is trying to calm them down and talk to them," NXT ring announcer Alicia Taylor spoke from her position in the doorway. She eyed the two for a moment before grinning.

Indi nodded and then glanced up at Dexter. She started to move past him and he gave her hand the gentlest of squeezes prompting her to smile widely as she followed Alicia out.

It didn't take her long to find her family. She just followed the sound of their frantic ranting to McKenzie as she attempted to get a word with them. She composed herself as best she could and made her way up to them. It didn't take long for them to start asking questions, she attempted to answer all of them, but it was all just noise. In her mind, she was still in the hallway waiting for that kiss from Dexter Lumis. One day... one day she would get it.

#index #indi hartwell #dexter lumis #nxt #wwe #fic

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terreisa · 4 years

Text

Love Down the Line: Chapter 2

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, AO3

~*CS*~

Portland, Maine- April 10th

Emma hadn’t intended to be late to rehearsal. In fact, she wanted to be early to get a step up on Jones. She figured just because she was doing Ruby a favor didn’t mean she couldn’t exert a little pressure on the guy at the same time. By the end of a tour she was usually ready to kick everyone off the bus and finish the damn shows herself and she was good friends with Ruby and the others in the backing band. Jones had to more than prove himself to her during the rehearsal turned audition. He had to blow it out of the water.

Of course, that had been before she was the one showing up almost forty minutes late.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she huffed under her breath as she ran across the parking lot, the guitar strapped across her back knocking her in the ass with every step.

“You’re late Miss Swan.”

Emma grimaced at the sound of her manager, Regina Mills’, voice. The woman was scary on a normal day with her custom designer suits, red soled stilettos, and three hundred dollar haircuts that made sure not a single dark hair was out of place, or grey. She was holding open the door for her with a look of extreme annoyance or impatience or disappointment. It could have been all three but Emma blew past her into the building and down the familiar hallways towards the space she and the others had been rehearsing in for years.

“I know, I know. Sorry-” she shrugged in apology and nearly dropped the three notebooks and handful of loose papers in her arms. Hugging them tighter into her chest she kept moving, “The bug wouldn’t start and I had to call Mary Margaret to borrow her car and then there was an accident on the highway.”

“And why couldn’t you have carpooled with Ruby?” Regina asked cooly as she followed, clearly unmoved by her tales of woe.

Emma stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and spun to face Regina, “Ruby can’t be here. She’s not supposed to drive with the pills she was given.”

“She is and she didn’t,” Regina said with a roll of her eyes, pushing at Emma’s elbow to get her moving again. “Some other woman who has the manners of a barn animal is here with her. If you keep inviting people to rehearsals I’m going to start charging for the privilege, maybe even turn it into a VIP package.”

“It must be Dorothy,” Emma smiled, her first real one since Ruby’s practically world ending phone call. “Good for her. And the only other person who should be here is that Jones guy Ruby swears is worthy of replacing her. She said he’s a session guitarist, do you not know him either?”

She’d opened the door that led to the rehearsal space, looking over her shoulder as she asked. Regina raised an impeccably plucked brow and settled her gaze behind her. Turning towards the room she immediately saw who the stranger was and promptly dropped everything in her arms in shock.

“Careful there, Swan, if you’re anything like every other songwriter I know those things are worth more than their weight in gold.”

Emma could do nothing more than stare as Killian Jones set his guitar aside and crossed the room to pick up the papers and notebooks at her feet. He gathered them all and tried to straighten them before handing them up to her, a crooked grin on his face. It faltered a little as she continued to stare at him before he chuckled and scratched behind his ear.

Killian Jones was definitely not the random guy off the street Emma had been imagining, he wasn’t even a vaguely familiar face she’d seen in the halls of their rehearsal space. He had been the lead guitarist and second vocalist for one of the biggest rock bands in the world almost fifteen years earlier. His band, Realm of Jewels' second album had gone multi platinum, they’d played arenas and headlined festivals across the globe. Rumor had it that their third album was supposed to be even bigger. Then there had been a terrible accident and half the band was gone in an instant. Killian Jones had survived but emerged from the wreck with one hell of a dragon, in the form of alcohol and pills, on his back.

As far as she’d known he was just another rock star that had gotten lost in the world because of his addictions. Apparently the story hadn’t ended there. No, it had seemingly kept going with him ending up in her goddamn rehearsal space looking bashful and hot as fuck.

“You’re Killian Jones.”

He blushed and it almost killed her, “Last time I checked.”

“Realm of Jewels,” she challenged, wondering if he’d shy away from his past.

“Once upon a time,” he shot back, a glint of humor in his eyes as his blush faded.

She hummed, “Rolling Stone called you a ‘not so hidden gem in the rock world, poised to be among the pantheon of rock gods’ if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Good memory,” he grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And that same illustrious publication said you were on the road to being the Stevie Nicks of your generation. A bit belittling but not far off the mark.”

“Belittling?” She asked sharply, her hackles rising.

He held up his hands in defense, “Not in the way you think, Swan. If I had written the article I would have perhaps said that you were a talent beyond compare.”

“Oh,” she said, deflating a bit but still on edge due to him being there at all, “um, okay.”

She glanced around the room, trying to find a way out of the suddenly awkward silence that had settled between them. Tink Greene and Will Scarlet, the other members of her backing band, were huddled by the drumset, watching them with barely hidden awe, clearly star struck at being in the same room with the Killian Jones. Ruby was sitting on the couch, whispering to the woman sitting next to her, who could only be Dorothy. Emma caught Ruby’s eye and not so subtly jerked her head back towards the hallway she’d just come from.

“Emma-” Regina snarled as she started backing out of the room.

“I’d like a minute with my guitarist if you don’t mind,” Emma said through gritted teeth, giving Jones an insincere smile that had his own widening in glee.

“Oh, do let them go, Your Majesty,” Jones said with a laugh. “I believe we still need to discuss certain terms and conditions of this little arrangement.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue that nothing was decided when Ruby pushed her fully into the hallway with surprising strength in her uninjured arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me Ruby?” She hissed as soon as the doors closed behind them. “Killian Jones?!”

“So you obviously know there’s no need for him to audition,” Ruby said with a sly smile. “I mean you have seen him in concert four, no fi-”

She covered Ruby’s mouth with her hand, shushing her as she pushed her further down the hallway. They only made it three steps before Ruby licked her palm, cackling with glee when she yanked her hand back, disgusted.

“It’s not gonna happen.”

“Come on. He can play, he’s available and he knows the songs. This is the best you’re going to get and you know it,” Ruby stated proudly, her grin smug.

“The best,” Emma muttered, shaking her head and trying to keep hold of her temper. “The best? Jesus Christ, Ruby, the second he steps out on stage it’s not my show anymore, it’s his. I have worked too fucking long and hard for that asshole to come in and take it all from me in some bid to reclaim his glory.”

“Oh, oh no, Emma, that’s totally not at all what this is,” Ruby whispered, her face pale and looking stricken. “He owed me, big time, and I obviously didn’t think about any of that when I called it in. Look, don’t repeat this to anyone. Like, anyone. But Killian hasn’t played in public since he got out of rehab. That he even agreed to do this is I think big enough for him. He’s not looking to steal the spotlight.”

“Then why is he here?” Emma asked, slightly mollified but still seething.

“He misses playing for an audience but I think he has a kind of block or something about going for it on his own,” Ruby said softly. She gave a half-hearted shrug, “I’m just trying to help out two friends in one go.”

The last of her anger drained away at the sincerity in Ruby’s voice. It wasn’t often that Ruby was the serious one in their friendship but when she was Emma always paid attention. If she hadn’t she’d have still been waiting tables at Granny’s Diner and only playing her guitar at barbeques and bonfires for their small group of friends at home. She also wouldn’t have been able to call Storybrooke home for that matter.

No longer angry but still infinitely annoyed she tipped her head back and let out a sigh, “Fine I’ll give him a chance on two conditions.”

“Excellent!” Ruby crowed. Emma dropped her gaze back down and raised a brow at her, “Whatever the conditions he’ll totally do it. He wants this, just doesn’t know how badly he does until you start making him jump through hoops to prove it to you.”

“Oh, only one of the conditions is for him,” Emma said with a smirk.

Ruby’s eyes widened, “What? Why do I have to prove myself?”

“You don’t. I just want to know how you can call Killian Jones, one of the most famous guitarists-”

“Who you had a poster of on your wall,” Ruby broke in with wiggling eyebrows and a giddy grin, “and a laminated photo in your-”

“Who had a very public and very destructive drug and alcohol problem, your friend,” Emma continued pointedly.

Ruby’s grin faded, “He was in the same rehab facility as my mom. Well, one of them. On one of her bad days I went for a walk around the gardens to cool my head a little and recognized him. Had a bit of a fangirl moment, if I’m being honest. Not exactly my finest moment since he was there to get his life back together and I go gushing about how great I thought he was before it all went to shit. I could tell he was humoring me until I started talking about gigs and asking him how to improve my playing, then his eyes kinda lit up and he started offering me advice and some tricks for the road. So whenever I went to visit my mom I would also stop by to talk to him about music.

“After my mom decided she was done being sober, again, I still went by to see him. He needed a friend and I guess I needed to believe that someone could actually follow through with getting clean. When he got out we stayed in touch. Just a ‘hi, how’re you doing’ text every so often. Until, of course, the arm thing happened.”

“And you never mentioned it because…?”

“I wanted to but it seemed-” Ruby shrugged, “like an invasion of privacy, somehow?”

Emma nodded, getting what Ruby meant but still a little hurt that she’d kept it from her. She’d only admit it on threat of death having met him but Jones had been her number one celebrity crush since she’d discovered Realm of Jewels in her senior year of high school. Ruby was a witness to it then and clearly still remembered that embarrassing fact. Then it occurred to her that there were dark parts of her life that she wouldn’t want shared with a fan no matter how close of a friend Ruby was with them. She nodded again, fully accepting the truth of what Ruby had told her.

“I’m not going to go easy on him,” she warned, spinning on her heel and walking back to the rehearsal room.

Ruby laughed, “I would have been suspicious if you did. So what are you going to make him do?”

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically with a grin before opening the door.

“Finally,” Regina muttered as they walked back in. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Emma, “You may be a favorite of the owners here but we’re still paying for every minute this room has people in it. So start playing or find somewhere else to work out your little grievances.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma apologized again, knowing that if there was something that pissed Regina off more than wasted time it was wasted money.

She felt Killian’s eyes on her as she greeted Tink and Will before moving to the piano. It was like a phantom pressure between her shoulder blades that she was trying her best to ignore. If he was trying to unsettle her she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction and if he was trying to figure her out she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. When she finally had all her things set up how she wanted and ignoring him was no longer an option she turned to face him, valiantly trying to hide that she was still slightly shocked and unnerved that he was there.

“Ruby said that you’re a session guitarist now,” she began without preamble, hoping to gain whatever upper hand she could.

“I may not be hurting for cash, love, but a man does like to keep busy,” his voice dipped low at the end of his statement. Paired with a raised brow and feral grin she had to hold back a snort of amusement at his innuendo.

“Not your love,” she shot back dismissively, “She also said that you’ve played on my albums?”

His grin faltered, “Aye.”

“And would you say you enjoyed the songs you recorded or were they just a forgettable few in a long set of recordings to… keep you busy?”

There was the sound of a violent snort and then a deep spluttering a cough that belonged to Will from behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ruby rolling her eyes at her and Regina throwing up her hands in exasperation. She kept her face impassive and gaze on Killian, pleased to see him fidget and scratch behind his ear in what had to be nervousness.

“Erm, well when I first recorded one of your songs I’ll admit I had no clue who you were and no interest in discovering more,” Killian admitted but instead of dropping his eyes he held her gaze. “Then I had the fortune of recording another one and found myself intrigued. I’ve listened to everything you’ve released up ‘til now and I’ve enjoyed all of it, not just what I was hired to play.”

“Okay then,” she said as cooly as she could, despite the giddiness and disbelief running through her knowing that he liked her music. “Now I hope you don’t mind but I’d like to hear you play something.”

“Play something?” He repeated, flabbergasted.

“Just a few different songs,” she said innocently, “so I know you’ll be a good fit.”

His mouth opened and closed several times before he shot an incredulous look at Ruby. Emma could barely hold in her laughter as Ruby shrugged and said nothing.

“Problem, Jones?”

He turned back to her, looking incredulous, “Let me get this straight, Swan, you can quote an article from Rolling Stone that was released well over a decade ago about my playing and you want me to audition?”

“Only if you want the gig,” she said with a shrug.

She could see the muscle in Killian’s jaw jumping, though she wasn’t sure if it was from annoyance or contemplation. Either way it gave her a little inspiration. While he continued to stew she pulled out her phone and did a quick internet search for what she needed.

“Fine, love,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. He picked up his guitar and slid the strap over his head. “What would you like to hear?”

“Can you read music?” She asked with honest curiosity.

“I can,” he said warily.

“Good-” she turned to Ruby, “I need your Ipad.”

Ruby gave her a calculating look before slowly extracting the tablet out of her purse and handing it over. Emma gave her what she hoped was a look of innocence before pulling up what she needed and handing it over to Killian.

“Layla? A classic-” he smirked and handed her back the Ipad, “and one I already know by heart.”

With that he started playing, amazingly, and Emma almost didn’t have the heart to stop him. Almost.

“Whoa there, Jones,” she said loudly, waving her hands for him to stop. He did with a discordant note and stared at her in confusion. She handed back the Ipad, “I wanted you to play this.”

He looked at it and then back at her, his brow furrowing even more, “But I was.”

“No, you didn’t read the music-” she wiggled the Ipad at him, “You were playing the lead. I want to hear you play the rhythm.”

“Ah,” he breathed, a look of bemusement and something that was too much like awe replacing his confusion, “I see.”

From there he played every unflashy guitar part she could throw at him. He didn’t complain and his annoyance didn’t make a reappearance. The others listened happily and even offered suggestions, though Regina had left with a disgusted huff after the fourth song. They passed the tablet back and forth several times before she decided to end the teasing with one of her favorites.

Killian snorted when he saw her choice, “You do know that two great guitarists play on this one right? Even playing rhythm on this one is an honor. Although, the same should have been said for Layla, but I have enjoyed this little challenge.”

“Good to know,” she said, smiling. “I don’t want you to play rhythm on this one though. If you don’t mind.”

“It would be my honor,” he hummed, handing her back the Ipad.

The chatter in the room fell silent as the familiar chords of While My Guitar Gently Weeps swept through the room. Emma closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. There was only one constant in her life and it was music, first listening, then playing, and finally creating. It had never sent her back, never sent her to prison, and never forced her to send her child away. As Killian played the last notes she felt the familiar pang of melancholy the song invoked in her but made sure the smile she gave him when she opened her eyes was genuine.

“Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you for giving me the opportunity? I’ve never had to audition before-”

“Lucky git,” Will grumbled as he ambled by them, heading toward the snack table on one side of the room.

“Will Scarlet, drums, constant pain in the ass but our pain in the ass,” Emma commented lightly, batting away the Red Vine Will had tossed at her. She hitched her thumb over her shoulder to where she’d last noticed Tink, “That’s Tink Greene, bassist, she’s small but she’ll knock you out if you mess with the current rotation of romance novels she’ll be bringing on the bus.”

Killian raised a brow at her, “I can’t quite tell by your tone but am I to believe I got the gig?”

“You had the gig as soon as she saw your pretty face and hot ass,” Ruby called out from her spot on the couch, causing Emma’s cheeks to heat up and Killian’s lip to curl.

“Yeah, well-” she cleared her throat, “We’ve, uh, already used up our reserved time for today and Regina won’t be happy if we stay late, even if we actually rehearse. We’ve got a couple more weeks of rehearsals on Mondays and Fridays and then it’ll be almost every day until the tour starts. If you need somewhere to stay just let Regina know and she’ll book the hotel room or whatever.”

“So I got the gig?” Killian pressed, his blue eyes glittering in mirth.

“You got the gig,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at his toothy grin. Then she let her features settle into what she hoped was a menacing look, “There’s some conditions.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding sagely.

“Your name isn’t going to be in any of the advertising, or brought up in interviews, and absolutely not on any of the damn marquees. You’re being hired as a guitarist in my backing band, not as the feature player.”

He nodded again but with understanding, “Of course, I have no desire to upstage you or hijack the tour for my own needs.”

“Good,” she said, slightly surprised he agreed so easily. “This is also temporary. Once Ruby gets the all clear from her doctor she’s back and you’re out.”

“As I wouldn’t want to keep a fellow musician, or friend, out of work I will happily step aside-” he gave a little bow that she refused to see as charming.

“And last, no groupies on the bus,” she added, fighting to keep her face impassive and the blush that threatened from pinkening her cheeks.

It had never been a set rule, in fact it was one they’d each bent a little one time or another, but a weird pressure built in the back of her neck at the thought of having to see and listen to Killian with some doe eyed fan. Not that she cared. She just didn’t want to get to know him that intimately, even if it was by proxy, when she barely knew him as anyone other than the rock star she’d had a crush in high school.

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly before he laughed. It didn’t sound forced or off but somehow Emma knew it was fake all the same.

“Understood, love.”

“Still not your love-” she held out her hand and his hand was calloused and warm when he grasped it, “Welcome to the band.”

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #ouat ff #my writing

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

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𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘝𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Hi, so I wrote a story. Well, the first chapter of a story. I hope that you guys enjoy. And thanks to Admin Ko and Brando for helping with the production~~and for future help~~

Tags/warnings: nothing as of right now, but that will change once more chapters come out, but for now- MATURE AS FUCK.

Next~

Enjoy!

>Admin 𝕋

꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙

The sound of bass boomed through the club, bodies of all sizes grinding against each other, sweat coming off them in waves. But none of them paid it much mind, too immersed in the music to care. A typical Saturday night, where crowds of people came together from all kinds of backgrounds to forget about their daily hardships and just have fun. But, this wasn’t any old club with just music and booze. No, this was a mix of burlesque, stripping, and clubbing. Audiences will come and enjoy themselves, but in the back of their heads, if known, they’ll be waiting for the real show to begin.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and those who are neither! This is the place for dreams to come true and where your wishes become realized! For the regulars, I hope you appreciate another wonderful show by our amazing dancers, and for anyone who’s new here--” a pause of anticipation rang out into the crowd, “welcome to Silent Voices.”

꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙

Chapter 1: Meetings and Regulations

⸻

The apartment was quiet and serene, perfect for getting that extra five minutes of sleep. The young woman didn’t care about that however, and she pulled open the curtains, letting the morning sun pour in. Hands on her hips, she turned around to face the lump on her couch.

“You know,” the brunette scolded, pulling the blanket off of (y/n) in one quick motion, “you are going to be late if you don’t get going now. And look, you aren’t dressed or anything.” The sudden brightness startled (y/n), making her groan into the couch.

“Please let me just, not go to work for once. Maybe a tornado will come and sweep me off to a place where magic exists.” (y/n) begged, unmoving from her face down position.

“Okay, this isn’t Kansas, and there is no magic, so you better get up and go. To work. Before you get fired.” (y/n) groaned again, louder this time, and kicked her feet onto the floor. She stood slowly, stretching and offering her friend a confident smirk.

“You and I both know that they wouldn’t fire me. I am the best they have.”

“Uhuh, sure, whatever you say. Just hurry it up already.” Exhaling a defeated sigh, (y/n) walked to the front door, grabbing her shoes. As she put them on, her beloved friend tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to turn around and come face to face with a blueberry muffin.

“Oh, how nutritious, a blueberry muffin. With blueberries. And muffin.”

“I swear to god if you don’t take this muffin, I will make you eat it right here and now. Also, you didn’t get dressed--”

“I am already dressed.”

“In your pajamas!”

“Yeah, well, I am going to get dressed again when I get there so there really is no point in wearing actual clothes.” (y/n) argued, smirking in victory when she saw the look of exasperation on her friend’s face.

“You-- I-- ugh-- I hate the fact that you aren’t wrong. Whatever, do what you want. Take your muffin and get out of my house.” Her friend shouted, pushing her through the front door of the apartment, (y/n)’s shoes not even fully tied. “And you better have a fantastic day!” She added with an affection yet oddly strong door slam.

“Thanks Uraraka, you too.” She responded, giggling at her best friend's aggressive affection. Biting the top of her muffin, (y/n) set out of the apartment complex. She looked up at the sky, clear and blue and beautiful, a perfect day for a walk. She had a car she could take, but the bus stop was right there and her job was just a few stops away. Also it would be much better to save the gas money for more important things, she thought. After the moment of silent contemplation, (y/n) walked to the bus stop. She sat at the small bench, but she didn’t have much time to relax. Like clockwork, the vehicle came driving up the street and came to a slow stop, opening its doors to let her in. (y/n) stepped into the familiar, slightly too air conditioned vehicle and surveyed the scene. There weren’t many people on board today, save for: a couple of old people sitting next to each other, seemingly to be together, a mother and her child who was sleeping in her arms, a middle aged man who looked like he just wanted to go into a coma (relatable), and a man about her age sitting where she usually sat, staring out the window with the hardest glare she had ever seen.

Not to exaggerate, but he had to be the world’s angriest looking man. Even his hair looked angry, the blonde spiky updo adding to his already fearsome physique. And the worst part was, he was sitting in her favorite spot on the bus, where the sun hit the window just right to give her some warmth in the cold winters. As much as she wanted to stomp over to him and tell him to move, he would probably murder her without regret, and (y/n) really didn’t need death today. So, as any sane person would do, she sat down in the very back, far away from the scary looking man. She shot a subtle glare to the man, still grumbling about her spot. He turned his head just in time to lock eyes with her for a brief second, (y/n) jumped slightly, turning her head as fast as possible the opposite direction to avoid his gaze. She sighed, already exhausted.

(y/n) gently rested her head against the wall of the bus. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. She was supposed to have a career that paid her six figures. She was supposed to be a CEO of a renowned company and shoving it in the faces of those that thought she wouldn’t make it big in the world. But, as life would have it, here she was. Living on her best friend’s couch, thousands of dollars in debt, and nowhere near where she wants to be.

Well, at least I am making a decent amount of money and looking good doing it, she thought, stepping out of the bus. (y/n) shook the tension out of her shoulders and set forth to her destination. Like the walk from the apartment to the bus, this one wasn’t very far either, just a couple blocks away and she would be where she needed to be. She playfully inspected the scenery of the neighborhood, being so familiar with the area that she could walk there in her sleep. Most of the time, however, nobody was in this part of town at this time of day, but this time, someone was going in the same direction as her.

Trying her best to remain calm and collected, (y/n) took a quick peek behind her to see who was following her. To her surprise, it was the same angry guy from the bus, his hands in his pockets and the same scowl on his face. It seemed that he was going in the same direction as her. It even seemed like he was...Staring at her. Probably her imagination. But those red eyes of his felt like they were glaring daggers into her back.

What if he wanted to kill her? Or worse, try to have a light conversation with her? She shuddered from the thought of it. Picking up her pace, (y/n) shoved her hands in her pockets and gripped the little can of pepper spray that was latched on her keychain and kept an eye on the man behind her.

He was even more suspicious, the blond man now speed walking, getting closer and closer to her. She knew these streets weren’t the best, but seriously? He couldn't kill her in a more clean place, but whatever, right? Since when did murderers have standards? Never.

But instead of giving in to her fate, she saw the doors to her workplace. Looking back, (y/n) stopped in her tracks, almost colliding with the stranger-- who was surprised she stopped and couldn’t stop himself from his fast pace-- and promptly kicked him in the crotch area, effectively ceasing his chase. “Hey fuckface, learn some decorum and method before trying to kill someone or you’ll never be a good murderer!” she yelled before opening the doors to Silent Voices and quickly walking in.

Shutting the large doors before her, (y/n) let out an anxious breath, proud of herself for standing up to a stalker or murder. “Didn’t think I had it in me…”

“Didn’t think you had what in you?”

“Gah! Kirishima! Where did you come from!?” the girl shouted. The man, Kirishima, chuckled and shook his head.

“I came from the break room. I was actually just about to call you. Nemuri is pissed, and I really think you should go pray.” Kirishima told her, to which (y/n) grunted and hit her head against the door she was leaning on.

“Of course she is. I’m like, five minutes late, and she hates when people are late.”

“Yeah, so why were you late?” Her friend asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“I woke up late and had to eat a muffin.” that was all she was going to disclose. As much as she would love to tell him about the crazy stalker that was following her, Kirishima was a bit too protective, so she decided not to say anything. Hopefully, it doesn’t bite her in the ass.

“I see. Well, that isn’t going to work for her, so might as well count your blessings while you still have them!” Kirishima exclaimed, “Now if you could move from the doors, I have to go out and set up before we open.”

Moving from the mentioned entrance, (y/n) gave Kirishima a goodbye high five and started towards the break room, where she knew she was going to get eaten alive. Going to the very back of the club, where only employees are allowed, (y/n) pushed the bead curtain out of the way and saw Nemuri--or Midnight, as she likes to be called-- standing in the middle of the room, with the other dancers already getting ready for the opening. The gorgeous choreographer was obviously angry at (y/n), her arms crossed over her chest and her brows furrowed in irritation. “Hey. I know I’m late and I’m sorry I--”

“Nope! I don’t want to hear excuses! Do you know how important this night is, (y/n)?!” Nemuri exclaimed, glaring harshly. “Tonight is the night you finally get to do your solo! The one I choreographed specifically for you! And it’s great!”

“It is, and I am so appreciative that you did that--”

“You better be!” There was a moment of silence between them before the older woman huffed out a breath and uncrossed her arms, adjusting her uniform. “I’m glad you made it, just in time. But next time, do. Not. Be. Late.” she warned before walking off to talk to the stage manager. (y/n) sighed, guilt weighing on her shoulders as she walked to her personal vanity. She set down her belongings on the chair and groaned.

“You doing okay?” one of the other dancers asked-- Mina-- asked. She was clad in a skintight black dress, showing off her assets beautifully, her hair in curls and her makeup was dark and seductive. It seemed she was all ready to go. Probably since she is the first act.

“Yeah I’m. Fine. Just late, overslept and all that.” (y/n) explained, pushing her bag to the floor and sitting down. She then opened her makeup box, taking the needed appliances that would compliment tonight’s costume.

“That happens to all of us! So, don’t look so down! Here, let me do your makeup for you, so you can just rest for a bit.” Mina said, taking the foundation away from (y/n) started to apply it for her.

“Thanks, Mina. I have been a bit more tired lately.”

“Don’t mention it. We gotta stick together, keep each other happy! Isn’t that right?”

“You got that right.” (y/n) laughed, closing her to let Mina do some of her makeup magic. It didn’t take very long, seeing as Mina was one of the best with makeup, and soon enough she was done.

“Okay, look in the mirror and tell me what you think!” blinking her eyes open and shifting her weight to look into the mirror, amazed at how well Mina did her makeup. She didn’t look like a different person, but the makeup did enhance her features for the better, and it felt great.

“Wow, it looks great. Thanks so much, I would’ve messed up so bad.” she said to Mina, who giggled and patted her shoulder.

“Anytime. I’m gonna go up to the stage and get some practice in before we open.”

“Don’t slip on the pole!”

“Like hell I will!”

(y/n) chuckled and got up from her vanity to put her costume on. It was a sparkling blue bikini that only covered the important bits. What one would expect from a strip club. At least there was a long silky robe with a fake fur lining, so it wasn’t that bad to walk around in it. Putting on the bikini like attire, (y/n) decided to just put her hair in a ponytail and spritzed some perfume on to complete the image. “Welp, I hope this is good enough because I am not in the mood to do anything extra.” she told herself, moving to the exit to leave the break room and headed toward the bar. “Todoroki, do me a favor and get me a shot of tequila. Maybe four. I don’t want to remember tonight.”

“I’ll give you one, and a glass of water.” the bartender responded, making (y/n) groan in indignation.

“Fine, whatever.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Ugh, why does everyone keep asking me that!” she shouted, hitting her head against the table of the bar. “Sorry for yelling.”

“It’s all good.” Todoroki muttered, amused by her exasperation, though his face didn’t show it.

“It’s just--I woke up on time for work, but I didn’t want to come, but I need the money. So I got my happy ass up and walked to the bus stop, which was all fine and dandy, the sun was out and it was bright and warm; great for a walk--” she inhaled to continue-- “but I saw a really weird guy with really spiky blond hair and big fucking muscles and a glare that could practically kill someone. He got off the same stop as me and started to follow me and it was really creepy--”

“By creepy guy, do you mean that one?”

“Oh yeah, him! Anyways--” she stopped mid sentence, and turned back again to look at the man Kirishima had brought into the club. “Oh my god, it’s the creepy murder guy.” she whispered, to which Todoroki heard.

“The what?”

“That’s the creepy murder guy that I kicked in the crotch before I got here.”

“You did what?!” Todoroki’s shout of astonishment caught the attention of Kirishima and the blond man, and the way the stranger went from “What the hell was that,” to “Oh, it’s the person the kicked me in the balls,” was astounding for (y/n) to see. And (y/n) did nothing as she watched him move straight from the entrance to the club, dodging all the tables, until he was right in her personal bubble, taking her by the robe and scrunching it up. His eyes held murder and his fist was way too close to her throat.

With a low, menacing-- albeit kind of attractive-- voice, he muttered, “You.”

Yeah.

It bit her in the ass.

#my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia imagines #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia au #silent voices #bouncer!bakugou #reader insert #x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia scenarios #my hero imagines

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confused-stars · 4 years

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hawksweek2020 - Day 3: Crossover

@hawksweek2020 ___ Phoenix Drifting (or: it’s Pacific Rim time, my dudes) „I just don’t think this is a good idea.” Toshinori Yagi looked tired. That was really the only adjective needed to describe the man, and maybe the only one that was appropriate. Gone was the hero millions of people had watched on tv and cheered on. There was only this skeleton of a man who looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over. “How will we know if we don’t give it a try?” said Keigo’s handler, calm and rational as always. Yagi just shook his head with a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’ve drifted with Enji enough times to know what he’s like. And I can only assume it would be even more difficult now, after…” He trailed off, but no one in the room actually needed him to finish the sentence. “Assigning him a new recruit as a partner, and someone he’s never even met?”

But they had met, Keigo almost wanted to protest. He bit his tongue on the basis that there was no way Enji Todoroki would ever even remember the tiny brat he’d saved that day. Or that he’d recognize the young man he’d grown into. “The alternative would be him drifting with his son, you are aware of that?” the commission president pointed out, one perfectly shaped brow raised. Keigo sometimes wondered when she found time to do that. The world was sort of ending every couple weeks, and yet there were people who would just… sit down and have their eyebrows plucked. “Natsuo is a medic. He’s not a pilot,” Kayama said from where she was leaning forward on crossed arms, a tiny crease between her eyes. Keigo’s handler paused. “Oh, no. I’m talking about Shouto.” “Absolutely not.” It was the first time Aizawa had spoken since they’d opened this discussion. Keigo had been sure the man had dozed off at some point, but apparently, he’d been listening the entire time. Stupid, of course he had been. Never underestimate people, especially those that you know are skilled. “We’re not putting a kid in a Jaeger. He’d be ready, skill-wise, but he’s still a teenager.” “Todoroki specifically requested for his son to be partnered up with him,” the president said, unmoved. “He’s been training for this purpose alone. If Takami doesn’t work out, Shouto would be our fallback plan.” Aizawa’s glare was terrifying enough that Keigo wouldn’t have been surprised if someone was about to drop dead. “Takami’s barely more than a kid himself!” He gestured at Keigo, who couldn’t help but straighten up, making a low noise of offense in his throat. “I’m old enough to fight! I’m old enough to drift. My simulator scores are better than All Might’s ever were. I’m ready.” Aizawa scoffed. “Simulator scores hold nothing against a real fight, kid.” Though his glare wasn’t as prominent looking directly at Keigo. Seemed like his anger was directed at the commission. Which, understandable and Keigo could relate. But they knew what they were doing. He’d been trained for only this since he’d been a tiny kid. He knew he could do this. “They might not even be compatible,” Yagi said, almost placating, “Maybe we’re arguing for nothing. You know what Enji is like. Him and Takami don’t seem like a very good matchup at first glance.” “Enji wasn’t a good matchup with Touya, either, but he pushed through anyway. And look what happened,” Aizawa replied darkly. There was a ripple of tension, and then the dark-haired pilot stood from his chair. “It’s not like we can stop you from doing what you want anyway. I’m just putting it on the record that I was against this.” He paused. “No offense, kid.” And stalked off. Keigo didn’t… think he was offended. Was he?

__ The thing was, despite spending the majority of his life training to be the perfect Jaeger pilot, despite having honed his reflexes and his tactical thinking and his ability to make split-second decisions, Keigo had never actually seen a Jaeger up close. When he’d been saved by Enji Todoroki – callsign “Endeavor” – as a child, that had been before the Jaeger program had really been a thing. Or at least not in the public eye. No, Enji Todoroki had been a special ops agent at the time he’d blown the criminal operation Keigo’s parents had been a part of, and his fame had only come about a year later when the first Jaeger – Golden Inferno – had been revealed. Keigo had known from that moment on that he wanted to be a pilot, and he’d worked hard to get to his goal, until he’d been picked up by the commission’s scouts when he’d been eight years old.

So, no experience with real Jaegers. Only the training facility and the simulations. He really, really couldn’t be blamed for sneaking up onto the walkway to take a look. Surely with all the young recruits living here, this was something that happened regularly. Why shouldn’t Keigo be allowed to do the same? He was about to step into one of these soon enough, if he proved to be compatible with Endeavor. There was currently only one active Jaeger in this Shatterdome, along with two more being kept ready for pilots. They desperately needed another team out there to help against the kaiju attacks that had just been stacking up, and that was why Keigo was here. He felt… kind of inadequate for the task next to the Jaegers though. They were so much bigger than he’d been able to even imagine. Even stood on the walkway, at eye level, Keigo was suddenly and entirely aware of how tiny he was. How tiny he was compared to one of the kaiju, too. Actually piloting a Jaeger had to be quite something if it made you feel strong enough to take on those monsters. “Do you have authorization to be here?” That voice… Keigo turned his head with an easy smile, and threw a lazy salute at the man who technically outranked him. For now. And, hey, even if they teamed up, Endeavor would always have seniority over him. “No, sir, but that’ll change come tomorrow,” he chirped, dropping his hand again. Endeavor was frowning at him, but as far as Keigo could tell, he was always frowning. “… Takami, right?” Keigo nodded, wondering if Endeavor remembered his parents at all, or if that had just been one case in a long line of forgettable ones. If he did remember, Endeavor wasn’t showing any signs of it. Instead, he stepped up beside Keigo, leaning his arms onto the railing of the walkway as he peered up at the Jaeger in front of them. This one was a newer model, the finishing touches were still being worked out, and the colors were muted and grey. Keigo thought she would look beautiful in red and gold. “Do you trust yourself to handle her?” Endeavor asked after a moment. Blunt and to the point. Keigo kind of appreciated that. “I’m a quick learner, and a great pilot,” he replied, “And I’ll have an experienced partner to show me the ropes.” Endeavor turned his steely eyes on him. “I’m not here to pick up your slack.” Keigo raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Oh, I promise you won’t have to! I know what’s at stake here, and I’m ready.” That got him a nod. Endeavor turned back to the Jaeger. “… she has booster jets on her back, and she was built lighter than any previous models. She’ll be the first Jaeger with the ability to fly.” Keigo had heard that much. He knew it’d be more of a hover, but that they were working on full flight and would be modifying her when there were no immediate fights to be won. He leaned his elbow on the railing and rested his head on his palm. “Got any name ideas yet?” Endeavor was silent for a while. Maybe he didn’t care for frivolous things like names. He seemed entirely stoic, just like on tv, and in the one memory Keigo had of meeting him. “… Phoenix,” Endeavor finally said, voice quiet but still clearly audible in the relative quiet of the hangar this late. “I…” Keigo loved it. It was perfect. He could already imagine the accents of red in an almost feather like pattern, and the Jaeger had flames, too, because it had been built with Endeavor’s preferred fighting style in mind. “… Rising Phoenix?” he suggested. He could feel Endeavor’s eyes on his face, scrutinizing, but he was too busy staring up at their baby. “… if you can keep up with me in the drift, we can name her that.” “Oh, them be fightin’ words,” Keigo murmured, and he couldn’t help but smirk. __ Their compatibility was evaluated within a single fight the next day. As soon as Keigo went in for his first blow, he could almost physically sense something connecting them. As fast as he was, Endeavor blocked every single one of his attacks as if he’d known exactly where Keigo was going to move. And in turn, Keigo managed to dodge every one of his opponent’s slower, more forceful blows. It wasn’t like sparring with other recruits, or with his trainers. It was… lighter, like his mind didn’t have to be constantly running, his thoughts fading to a pleasant humming in the background. When they parted, Endeavor was smiling. Keigo returned his expression. And they were deemed ready to drift only an hour after that.

__ They had an audience, Keigo knew. Everyone was anticipating a successful drift, and everyone was worried what would happen if it didn’t work out. No pressure. Keigo felt good about this, about himself. They could do this. Right? It didn’t matter that Endeavor had so many years on him, that he’d lived through what had happened to his first and second co-pilot, that their traumatic memories were probably about to mix up and create an incredibly explosive cocktail… Keigo took a breath and exhaled slowly. He needed to focus on his surroundings. The feeling of the suit against his skin, the lights of the cockpit, the voices in his ear. “Takami.” Keigo jerked his head over towards Endeavor, who was standing calm and seemingly ready for the challenge ahead. “Yeah?” Endeavor frowned at him. “Don’t think too much. It’ll only distract me.” “Roger that,” Keigo murmured. Because that was so easy. Damn, what if this didn’t go right? Then they would lose so much more time trying to find a suitable copilot for Endeavor, and one for Keigo, too. This needed to work. It had to. “Initiating neural handshake,” said a voice that Keigo was too nervous to assign to any one of the people he’d just met yesterday. “3…2…1.” He was standing over an empty hospital bed, the sheets still mussed up from the body that had been in it only minutes ago. “It was my fault,” he murmured, fists clenched at his sides. A hand touched his shoulder. “Enji…” He whipped around and glared down at Rei, and she shrunk back from the look on his face. He was twelve years old and had just broken a bone for the first time. He lay on the mat in the training hall, trying desperately not to cry as he clutched his arm. “We’re not finished, Hawks,” said the trainer coolly, “You won’t be able to take breaks when you’re in a Jaeger. You’ll have to keep fighting with broken bones. Now, get up and use your other arm.” He was holding onto a gun, heavy and comforting in his hands, and leading his men down a darkened corridor. He was in his bedroom with his father sneering down at him. “I know you’ve been stealing from me, little brat. Using my own teachings against me, are you?” He gave his men a hand sign to swarm out as he pushed through the next door on his own. He cowered from his father’s wrath, tiny body shaking. “N-no! No, I haven’t! I haven’t!” He’d taken food, but that wasn’t… he’d needed it so bad… he’d been so hungry… “D-Dad, please, I promise, please don’t-“ “Dad, please!” Touya was backing away from him with tears in his eyes and bruises on his face. “I’m tired, it hurts. Can we stop now? Can we please stop?” “Don’t hurt me!” “You promised we could stop if I did well in this one!” “… losing connection…” “… unstable…” “… rabbit…” Touya went up in flames before his very eyes, the entire cockpit was on fire, and he was burning, too, but he didn’t even feel it in his desperate attempt to rip himself away from the controls and get to his son. “Dad!” The door to his bedroom was kicked open, splinters of wood sent flying as a broad man dressed in black pushed his way inside. “Step away from the child.” He looked down at the little boy curled up on the ground, trying to make himself small. God, he looked so much like Touya like this, so scared. Enji looked back up at the man he’d come here for. At Takami. Keigo looked up at his savior, at the gun in his hands. He scrambled to his feet and hit behind the stranger’s legs, clinging to him as if he was bound to disappear any moment. Enji’s grip on the gun was unwavering. “Don’t let him hurt me… please don’t let him,” Keigo whimpered. “I won’t,” Enji replied. Keigo held on tighter. “… stabilizing…” “… fuck, that was close.” The vividness of the memory began to fade, only bits and pieces fluttering through their joined minds now. Seeing the man who had saved him on tv. Forming the word ‘Endeavor’ on his lips for the first time, in awe. Shouto, two years old, putting another block on his tower and clapping his hands. Walking into his new home at the Commission headquarters for the first time. Being given his uniform. Toshinori smiling at him at they stood in front of ‘Golden Inferno’ together for the first time. Toshinori on the floor and coughing up blood. His mom yelling at his dad’s friends, pointing a gun at whichever one moved closer to her. Holding Rei’s hand in the park. Passing his first piloting test with flying colors. Fuyumi’s awe as she saw his Jaeger the first time. The name ‘Hawks’ given to him by another recruit. Burn scars running along his body, but none hurt as bad as knowing Touya was gone. Pickpocketing strangers on the street and trying to buy food with the money before he was expected back. Giving Natsuo a piggyback ride. Shooting a gun in the training range. Facing down a kaiju with his partner at his side. Keigo raised his hand. Enji did the same. They brought their fists together. “Neural handshake initiated.” The memories stopped. The connection flowed freely between them, almost like a lazy stream of consciousness. Keigo gave Enji a playful, mental nudge. Enji huffed on his side of the cockpit. “Let’s show these kaiju who’s boss, eh?” Keigo asked, both with his mind and out loud. He could feel determination, and amusement, and relief. “I��ll show you how it’s done.” Hawks, Enji thought, I won’t let you down. Keigo… Hawks smiled and leaned into their connection, allowing himself to feel the exhilaration of it all. “We’re gonna kick some ass.” He mimicked an explosion with his fist, and Rising Phoenix did the same.

#bnha #hawksweek2020 #jaeger pilot keigo!!!#let's gooo #i could write 30k of this probably #there's also a bunch of other interesting stuff that's less keigo centric obvs #also in this it's actually afo creating the kaiju #is this more of an au than a crossover? probably #catch me never actually sticking close to the prompts #but i needed to write this like i needed air #the other option wouldve been a his dark materials crossover but those are hard to write focused on just one character #also i didnt know what to write for the test fight that hasn't been done a million times already #so i just rushed through it #but eh im sick rn and i just wanted to finish this on time so i can go lie down now #child abuse tw #it's definitely very strongly insinuated so tagging it #i dont know what im doing with endeavor here ive literally never written him as a sympathetic figure before???

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irrelevantwriter · 5 years

Text

By The Light Of The Moon

Pairing: Negan x Witch!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, mutual masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, Negan getting seriously mind fucked, spooky tings (bc its Halloween and I’m in the spirit)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Negan takes notice of a beautiful stranger at The Sanctuary. You’re willing to offer a lot more than he signed up for.

A/N: So, because I can’t possibly help myself, I’ve decided to do a take on the Hopper x Witch fic I did and do one for my OG Daddy Negan. This one is A LOT more in depth and long AF, but so worth it. This idea was perfect for Negan and I can’t wait to see what you guys think! Enjoy and share with your friends!

P.S.

Requests are still coming! This def got me in the headspace for Negan again. Be on the lookout. And if you’d liked to be tagged in any of my stories, holla at your girl.

*Masterlist in bio.

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

Negan swung Lucille at his side, deciding to bring her along on his trek through The Sanctuary’s marketplace. The air was crisp and smelled of pumpkin and apple spices. According to his timekeepers, it was the night before Halloween. And The Sanctuary was in full spirit.

Baked goods permeated the air while children rushed to put a costume together. Negan couldn’t help the smile that fell on his lips at the sights and smells. It felt good to be festive and he’d decided to stroll through his kingdom to take in all it had to offer.

Of course he did have an ulterior motive for such a visit. He was Negan after all. He never did anything without a reason. And his stroll had a purpose.

As if seemingly overnight, the whole place had become enchanted with a woman selling homemade goods in the market. She apparently made soaps, candles, and oil remedies, among other things. And they seemed to work, at least by the accounts of his people. It sounded like hippie shit to him. But even Simon had brought her up, talking nonstop about the fucking lotion she made him for his sore shoulder. The man seemed hypnotized...everyone did. And Negan came to find out just exactly what all the fuss was about.

People dropped to their knees as he moved through the crowd, but he waved them off. He was here on pleasure, not business. His dark eyes found a booth in the corner with a crowd surrounding it, the person in charge not visible through the shoppers. Negan made his way over, sure this was where he was headed.

A hushed silence filled the air as he strode up, effectively making his way to the front of the line. He smiled when his eyes caught the beauty behind the table. He understood why so many people were taken with you. You were stunning.

He bit his lip, his toothy grin on full display as he took you in. Beyond your obvious attractiveness, there was a magnetic pull, something he couldn’t quite explain. It was mystic and not solid, like a fog. And he could feel it calling to him.

“Well, what do we have here?” He bellowed, making the people nearby pause. He found he didn’t care to have an audience so he dismissed them, insinuating the booth was closed to everyone except him.

He observed you, trying to read your expressions. You didn’t seem at all perturbed by his actions. In fact, you seemed somewhat amused. A smile turned one corner of your lips and he found himself mirroring the gesture.

“So you’re the one who everyone’s been going on about?” He gestured with his free hand to your surroundings, appearing as if he was unimpressed by your reputation.

Truth was...he was intrigued. And mildly suspicious. Not much got by him at The Sanctuary, if anything. The fact that you’d gone under the radar and passed his keen eye peaked his interest.

“Guess so.” You replied simply, face still unmoving.

He grunted, a little disappointed at your lack of response.

He’d be the first to say what an arrogant, self-righteous asshole he was. Leading a community had made him a hardened man. People respected him. They feared him. And women were enamored with him. They practically threw themselves at his feet. Your blasé attitude made him falter. Yet he found himself inexplicably drawn to you...to your energy. Whatever the fuck that meant.

He picked up a bottle filled with thick ivory cream. The handwritten label said it was body lotion with hints of lavender and vanilla. He wasn’t usually into the fresh scents of body washes and lotions, but he had to admit that the shit smelled amazing.

“Your products are all the rage around here, doll.” He perused your table, picking up a random item here and there to scent. His fingers stopped on a drawstring bag with herbs, the label identifying it as a sleep aide.

“A lot of people feel that they work. Helps them get through the days a little easier.” You explained, following him down the table.

Negan nodded, lifting a lavender candle to his nose. The fucking thing smelled heavenly. “So I’ve heard.”

“You should take some.” You offered, gesturing to the bag of herbs he’d been eyeing moments before.

“For sleep? Why would I need that?” He questioned, almost offended you assumed he didn’t get quality rest.

“It’s the most popular. Not many of us get a good night’s rest these days. I imagine leading this place makes it difficult to fully relax.” You picked up the bag and held it out to him, a pleasant smile still present on your lips.

Negan studied you long and hard, uncaring if he made you uncomfortable. He didn’t appear to though. You stood facing him head on, eyes catching his in a captivating stare off.

“How long have you been here? At The Sanctuary.” He watched as you finally let your hand fall, giving up on passing the herbs to him.

“A couple of months.”

“Who brought you in?” He pressed, eyebrow arched and jaw clenched in an intimidating fashion.

“I don’t remember.”

Negan shook his head and pursed his lips, unhappy with your answer. “Sounds a little suspicious to me.”

He waited a beat to see if you’d react. You didn’t.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“Doll is fine.”

He chuckled, amused by your answer. “You’d be the first to say so.”

He sighed and straightened his back, standing to his full height. He could tell that there was something different about you, something enigmatic. He hadn’t figured out if it was good or bad. He felt the need to push you for answers, to learn every detail of your life, both past and present. But he could also feel a nagging in the back of his head, a nagging that was urging him to let it go.

He decided he would. For now. At least until he could fuck you. Which he planned to do soon.

“I’ll take the herbs and a candle, doll.”

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

Negan awoke with a start. His body was prickled with sweat, his limbs feeling like lead weights. He reached on his nightstand for his watch, taking note of the still black night outside his windows.

12:00 am.

It was Halloween.

And he’d only been asleep for a few hours.

He searched his memory, trying to piece together his evening. His mind felt oddly foggy and he had to concentrate hard on remembering.

He’d made it to his room after fucking Tanya’s red-headed brains out and then ate his dinner. Then, he’d gone over some notes with Simon for the meeting the next day and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He’d remembered the bag of herbs he’d bought from you and decided to give them a try. He’d followed your instructions and mixed them into a warm mug of water, making sure the liquid went from clear to a light yellow. He found that detail odd, but you’d assured him it was normal.

He drank it. The mixture had a surprisingly pleasant taste. And then he’d apparently passed out because his memory stopped there.

His mouth felt dry and he fumbled for a bottle of water he kept nearby. He drained its contents, wayward drops of water landing on his bare chest instead.

He wiped his mouth and the sweat from his brow, scanning his bedroom for the thing that woke him. Everything appeared to be in order. He stopped and listened, waiting to hear a noise or two. Nothing. All was quiet.

He was overcome with the sudden compulsion to seek you out. It startled him how much he wanted to do so. And while he knew the hour was late and he had no real reason for doing so, he did it anyway.

Negan walked the silent halls of The Sanctuary, somehow knowing exactly where to find you. He moved quickly, the urge to see your face now a desperate craving. Everyone was asleep. Not a soul was up or moving about. That fact was odd. The factory always stayed alive with some sort of activity, even in the dead of night.

That wasn’t the case tonight.

He made it to your closed door in minutes, the light coming from beneath signaling that you were still awake. His heart was hammering in his chest, his body suddenly having a strong reaction to your proximity. He felt off. He’d felt off since he woke up, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong. All he knew was that he had to see you.

He knocked softly, listening for movement beyond the wooden barrier. He heard a shuffle of feet and then the knob turned. Your figure was illuminated by the light at your back as you opened the door. A wave of lavender and rose scent hit him, instantly putting him in a state of relaxation. He hungrily took in your appearance. A white nightgown that stopped just above your knees adorned your frame. It was a thin cotton material, the fabric nearly see through. It was a mesmerizing sight.

“Hi, I uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. A true first. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, doll.” He scratched at the back of his neck, attempting to focus on your face and not your seemingly impeccable pair of tits.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, smiling up at him as you spoke.

You suddenly stepped away from the doorway and out of Negan’s line of vision. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before you returned, only this time you had a long black knit cardigan on and flats on your feet. You made a move to step into the hallway with him and he backed up quickly to allow you to do so.

“What’re you doing?” He asked as you turned back to face him.

“Taking you somewhere.” You reached for his hand, pulling him with you down the hallway. Negan followed, though he was unaware of why he was doing so.

“Where? It’s the middle of the goddamn night.” He questioned, taking notice of how you moved with such ease through the maze of halls.

“Somewhere special.” You threw over your shoulder as you led him outside into the chilly October evening.

The sky was black, probably the blackest Negan had ever seen it. But the moon was full and it was illuminating everything. It cast a ghostly glow on the factory and the surrounding woods. A breeze swept through the trees, the remaining leaves falling off their limbs almost instantly. The night was soundless, just like The Sanctuary. It was unusual. Not even the low, decaying groans of the dead could be heard.

“Where’s my fucking guards?” He asked you, somehow knowing you would know the answer. He gestured to the lookout posts atop the fences, the empty spaces making him pause. You pulled against his hand, your flesh suddenly heating him from the inside out.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.” You soothed.

It worked. And he was back to following you beyond the fences.

The woods were dense and difficult to navigate, but you maneuvered through them like you’d been doing it for years. He let you lead him. His body and mind followed you, trusted you. He realized how bizarre and extremely out of character his behavior was, but he couldn’t put a stop to it. Nor did he want to.

The cabin was nestled deep into the woods, but close enough to The Sanctuary that Negan wondered how he’d missed it. It had clearly been here for some time, but appeared to still be kept up by someone. There was a soft glow of light from a window, a billow of smoke rising into the night from the chimney. It was both a welcoming and ominous sight.

They hadn’t encountered any of the dead throughout their journey. He hadn’t even heard an animal rustle in the trees. It was if they were they only two people alive. He found he didn’t mind that fact. It was obvious he was willing to follow you anywhere.

You opened the door of the cabin and ushered him inside. The intoxicating scents of lavender filled his nostrils, the sensation making his eyes roll into the back of his head. He suddenly felt buzzed, as if he’d downed several shots of whiskey. His senses felt dulled and heightened all at the same time. He was entranced by you, by this place.

Orange flames burned in the fireplace, illuminating the space. An old table with two chairs sat near a makeshift kitchen, herbs and flowers hanging from the window to dry out. A small sofa and a chair made up the living room next to the fire. A bookcase held rows and rows of thick, leather-bound books. The titles were too small for Negan to see from his spot near the door, but he could tell the spines were worn with time.

His attention was diverted to the back corner where a large bed sat. It was adorned in black sheets and a dark purple blanket. Black lace hung from the four-poster railings, surrounding the bed in a veil of darkness. Candles littered the surfaces of two nightstands, the wax falling downward onto the wood top to escape the heat of the flame.

“Here.” You appeared in front of him with a steaming cup of liquid. You’d removed your cardigan and flats, your shoulders bare and calling to him.

“What is it?” He asked, accepting the drink. He inspected it, but it looked unremarkable. He took an exploratory sip, the smell wafting up to him .

“Tea.” You answered, moving behind him to remove his leather jacket. He let you, as had become the pattern for the evening.

Your hands danced along his arms, inspecting his tattoos with curiosity. He remained still, taking small sips from the mug as you did so. He felt your touch run up his bicep and over his shoulders, caressing the chords in his neck as you explored. Your palm made contact with his bearded cheek and he nuzzled into the warmth.

“You’re very important, Negan.” You mused, moving a strand of out of place hair from his forehead.

“Of course I fucking am. I’m a leader.” He agreed, his smug attitude finally making a comeback.

You smiled at his response and took the mug from his hand. You placed it on the table behind you and moved back into his personal space. Your hands gripped at his white t-shirt, your body pressing into his.

“That’s not what I meant.” You whispered into his neck, lips grazing his flesh.

His body broke out into shivers at the touch of your lips. He could feel your body heat radiating from you, the thrum of your heartbeat echoing in his ears. He wondered if you could hear his too with the way it was pumping.

“You have a purpose. I want to show you what that purpose is.” You pressed your lips against his suddenly, your tongue demanding permission to explore him.

Negan gripped your hips in return, matching your ferocity with his own. You tasted as good as you looked and he couldn’t get enough. He affixed himself to you, pressing closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Your breasts pushed into him and he responded with a thrust of his hips into yours. You pulled your mouth from his, peppering his neck with sensual kisses and determined bites.

“My purpose to fuck you? Because that’s about to fucking happen, doll.” He gritted through clenched teeth as one of your hands brushed his fast-hardening cock. He hissed as you bit down particularly hard on his neck and then lapped at it with your tongue seconds later.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric up and off in record speed. Negan threw his head back as you assaulted his chest with your mouth, your hands playing with the clasps of his pants. The roaring of extreme arousal was making itself known inside of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off.

His hands ventured beneath your nightgown and up your bare thighs, colliding with the white scrap of lace that hugged you. Your skin felt smooth, unblemished; as if you hadn’t spent all these years fighting for your life like everyone else. Your aroma was calling to him, making his mouth water and his control wane. He palmed your ass, gripping your flesh with a needy hunger. You moaned into his ear at the action, seemingly pleased with his touch. The air was thick with sexual electricity and Negan knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave this cabin until he had you.

“The bed.” You ordered, your voice coming out low and raspy. It was sexy. Your desire for him so strong that it literally poured from your lips.

Negan steered you both towards the satin and lace fortress, the bed a beacon in a midnight thunderstorm. You stopped him once the back of your knees made contact with the mattress, your lips finally pulling away from his chest and neck. He was sure he had at least a dozen fucking hickeys littering his skin by now.

He waited as you stared up at him, his hands still clutching the globes of your ass. You surprised him by cradling his face in your hands, the moment suddenly becoming intimate. Your eyes held a distinct spark, your lips a knowing smile. It was if you knew something he didn’t…a secret.

“You’ve been through so much pain.” You stated softly, fingers caressing the crow’s feet near his eyes.

He looked down at you with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, unsure of where this was headed. He could see the conviction behind your eyes, as if you really could see the voyage he’d taken and the trauma he’d been through. It made his hair stand on end.

“I can fix that for you.” You stated calmly and confidently, as if you had all the answers to his questions.

He noticed for the first time that your nails were painted a deep red as you ran them across his kiss-swollen lips.

He smirked at your antics, feeling a break in the haze. “Fix me? Hate to break it to you, doll, but I’m a lost fucking cause. Have been for a while.” He teased with a wink.

He felt like himself again as he ran a calloused and scarred hand around to your lower stomach, grazing the waistband of your panties. You sucked in a breath when he traced your lips through the delicate fabric, feeling the moisture that had already begun to collect. His lust ratcheted up again at the touch of you and he rubbed himself against you in response. Your nipples were distinct peaks against the flimsy fabric of your nightgown and he yearned to wrap his lips around them and suckle like a newborn to its mother’s. He’d fucking live between your perfect breasts if you’d let him.

“I’m going to give you what you need, Negan. I’ll make you better.” You whispered as he took his turn to devour the flesh of your neck.

He smiled against you, entertained by your idea of pillow talk but not fully comprehending it. He didn’t give a shit what you said at this point. His dick was so fucking hard that he had to bury it inside you soon before he combusted.

“Well, since you’re offering…” He pulled back, eyes locked with yours as he pushed down the straps of your gown. “Let me see that glorious fucking body.”

You allowed him to move the fabric down your figure and over your hips, revealing yourself to him. He immediately attached himself to your tits, both mouth and hands working in tandem. Your hands pulled at his hair, keeping him mounted against you but shuddering away in sensitivity. Negan chased you with his lips, intent on marking you like you had him.

He reached a hand between your bodies, impatient with the pace. His gaze followed every curve and soft line of your body, still in awe of the perfection of your skin. It was flawless. You were flawless. A literal fantasy come to life.

Your hands were soon at his button, releasing the fabric from its hold and working it down his legs. He shed his boots quickly and stepped out of the garment, thankful he’d chosen to go commando. He watched you lick your lips at the sight of him and fuck if that didn’t make his balls tighten.

You sat down on the bed, positioning yourself so that he had a completely unobstructed view of the juncture between your thighs. He instinctually began to tug at himself while you touched yourself beneath your panties, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He made it to you in two steps, a hand hooking your ankle and jerking you closer. He ripped the fabric away from your body, catching how soaked the material had gotten. You were fully nude now and practically glistening. He could almost see your pussy throb as he got onto his knees. He hovered there for a moment, taking in the scene. Your scent, your touch, hell, even the sound of your soaked channel. He savored it all.

“Negan, please…” You pleaded and damn did it feel fucking amazing to hear you call his name like that.

“You need me, doll?” He let a finger lazily play with your clit, enjoying the way you jumped at the contact.

“Yes, please…” You begged again, unashamed of your neediness. He liked that. He liked seeing you lose your composure. That shit was fueling him.

He relented and sucked harshly at your pulsing bud, his touch unforgiving. His lips kissed you while his tongue tasted you. He explored you, using his fingers to pry you open to his attack. Your thighs clenched around his head as your body arched off the bed. The candles reflected off your skin and he became awestruck by the image.

He fed on you, his appetite for you far from satiated. He welcomed your flavor on his tongue as he probed your opening, teeth nipping at your swollen lips. You yelped and jolted away, but he held you to him. He felt that drunk feeling again as he quite literally immersed himself in you.

“Don’t stop. I’m gonna cum.” You breathed out, head thrown back and hands struggling for purchase against the smooth sheets.

Negan had no intention of stopping. Instead, he doubled his efforts and ravaged you, seeing the prickle of pain flash across your features from his ruthlessness. You continued to hold his head to you as he attempted to drink every drop that poured from your lips.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes…” You chanted as your body rippled and convulsed with tremors. Negan caught every single one with his mouth, his eyes taking in the way you moaned and writhed. Your skin was slick with perspiration, your lungs rapidly taking in air as you slowly came down from your journey to space.

He stood, his whole body tense in untamable lust. He could feel the dribble of precum on his cock, the appendage begging for attention. He wedged himself between your thighs and submerged his cock in your overflowing dampness. He rutted against you, feeling you reach up to catch him in your folds. He dug his fingertips into your thighs as he let his cock nudge your abused clit. You winced at the oversensitivity.

“Fuck, I need to be inside this fucking pussy.” He growled, recognizing the tingle in his spine starting to form.

Negan didn’t wait for a response as he plunged inside of you, groaning at the instant surge of pleasure at finally being able to do so. He felt your heartbeat within your walls as it thrummed against his cock, squeezing him just right. It was as if you were made just for him. The way you hit every one of his nerves in the most delectable way possible made it seem as if you’d been sculpted for him, a genuine counterpart.

“Shit, that is one tight cunt.”

He moved slow and deep, treasuring the sensation of your body so effortlessly enveloping his. His hands were everywhere as your body became his playground. He held your tits, relishing the way they bounced to the rhythm of his hips. He grasped you throat and squeezed as you moaned for more. He took in the way your body so readily accepted his own, your pussy slickening him for his passage. It all felt fucking perfect. Perfect in a way he’d never experienced before.

“More…I need more.” You demanded, trying to reach for him.

Negan was happy to oblige and bent down to hover over your awaiting mouth. Small gasps escaped your throat as he continued to fuck you, the sound like music to his ears and pulsing dick.

“This what you wanted? This enough for you?” He grunted, angling his hips so that he could feel the natural barrier within you. He heard you whine and drag your nails down his back, the depth of his cock making you want to retreat.

“No, no…take it all, doll.” Negan tutted, forcing your body up the bed as he moved. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your teeth digging into his shoulder. The move sent a jolt through his system and he increased his speed. His hips slapped against your roughly, the loud smack of skin echoing throughout the room. He could feel his balls tightening and his limbs tingle. He wasn’t ready for it to end. He wasn’t ready to separate from your warmth just yet.

He straightened up, bringing you with him. Your body was pliable with his movements, letting him maneuver you how he saw fit. He lifted you into his arms, still impaled on him. He captured your mouth, walking to the head of the bed. He situated himself on the mattress, you still cradled in his arms. Without him having the leverage to thrust, you took it upon yourself to slide up and down on his engorged cock. He faltered at the motion, but recovered in time to position you in his lap.

“Ride me. Let that pussy take what she needs.” He nipped at your bottom lip as he encouraged you to move, slapping your ass in the process.

You didn’t hesitate. You wrapped your arms around his neck and bounced, chasing that ethereal high. Negan buried himself in your breasts, feeling that inebriated sensation start to strengthen. He gripped your hips, anchoring himself to something solid. He felt as if he might float away if he didn’t. He felt entirely too warm and the need to cum was more powerful than any other experience he’d had. His vision felt blurry, yet he could make you out perfectly. He could smell you and only you. Not the fire or the lavender anymore. His ears were attuned to your moans and whimpers, but silence lingered outside of that. He felt like he was in a vacuum of your essence, trapped but not wanting to escape.

“Yes, Negan…please cum.” Your words made him thrust up into you, eager to comply with your breathy request. The tell-tale signs were there. He was ready to let go.

Through the fog he belatedly realized he needed to pull out, not wanting to chance it. He readied himself to remove you from his lap when he felt you clamp down and hold him, your intent obvious.

“It’s okay. Do it. Fill me up.” You nibbled on his ear, tongue tracing his lobe as you massaged his cock with your walls. He went to protest, but stopped. The words died on his lips, his body now running the show. He only thought about you and how fucking magnificent you felt. He thought about how good it would feel to smear you in him. To see you leaking and dripping. The thoughts alone were enough to convince him that he should listen to you.

Your finger teased your clit as you rode him, urging him on. Negan gritted his teeth at the feel of your pussy spasming, your entire body ricocheting with the aftershocks. He surrendered to you and released, your pussy greedily taking from him as he tensed in orgasmic bliss. A hum of approval left your lips at the feel of him driving his seed into you, the warmth and stickiness coating you both.

“Fuck,” He cursed as he screwed his eyes shut. He felt like he’d been pumping for hours, the high lasting a lot longer than he’d anticipated. He felt overcome with exhaustion as he collapsed on the bed, your body still a place holder for his now flaccid cock. He looked up at you as you straddled him, a halo of candlelight encompassing you. He panted as he struggled to catch his breath while your nails dragged through his chest hair. You laid your head on his chest near his heart, your body rising in sync with his.

He was drained. Utterly and completely. He adjusted himself beneath you, feeling his cock slip out of you and land heavily between you. You rubbed yourself against him, his cum aiding the movements. His mind said no more, but his body was responding.

“Doll, this old man needs to rest. I think you broke my dick.” He groaned, feeling aches start to settle into his limbs.

You laughed, your body vibrating against his. “Doesn’t feel broken to me.” You quipped as you traced a finger over the twitching member.

He laughed, despite his fatigue and trailed a hand down your naked back. “You’re something else.”

“Good or bad?”

“Can’t decide yet. But my dick points to good.” He joked, liking the throaty laugh you released at his words. He could feel his eyes getting heavy and that distinct lethargy that came with sleep. He didn’t bother to move you from atop him. He liked your weight nuzzled against him, feeling the beat of your heart with his.

“Sleep.” You said into his chest as you placed a soft kiss near his ribs.

Negan nodded, though he was already halfway into his dreams by the time you spoke.

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

A loud knock jolted him from his slumber.

Negan sat straight up in his bed, eyes dancing around wildly in search of the intruder. He took in his bedroom skeptically, wondering how he’d gotten back.

Another knock sounded, followed by a call from the beyond the door.

“Boss? You in there?”

It was Simon. And he sounded strangely concerned.

Negan stood from his bed, groaning at the protests his sore limbs were giving him. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and thanked whoever the fuck that he at least had clothes on.

He pulled open the door and came to face-to-face with a worried looking Simon. The man’s own remaining hair was somewhat tousled and his mustache looked uncharacteristically unkempt. He looked like he’d been running his hands through it all day, an action Negan knew he didn’t partake in unless he was nervous about something.

“What is it? What happened?” He demanded, knowing there was something he was missing by the look in his friend’s eye.

He waited as Simon seemed to take him in, appearing to be relieved by his presence. The whole thing was making Negan feel weird.

“You okay? We were worried about you.” The man finally admitted, hand back in his thick moustache.

Negan arched a brow in question. “Worried? Why?”

“Its past noon. You never sleep this late. We didn’t hear from you and got nervous something happened.” He explained, gaze still inspecting Negan closely.

Negan widened his eyes at Simon’s words, not believing what he was saying was true. He raced to his nightstand and grabbed his watch, feeling a sense of déjà vu. The timepiece read back 12:15. It was still working and didn’t appear to have stopped at any point during the night.

He looked back at Simon, perplexed by his unexplained tardiness. He was just about to question his friend more about it when he remembered the previous night. The memories came flooding in like a busted dam. He saw you in that damn nightgown. The cabin in the woods. You riding his dick like a fucking prized pony. It all soared to the surface and through the fog that still littered his mind and body.

“What the fuck happened?” He mumbled to himself as he rubbed at a particularly sore spot on his shoulder. Had to be where you fucking bit him.

“You good, Boss? Need anything?” Simon interrupted from his spot in the doorway.

Negan went to dismiss him, but thought better of it and nodded. “Yeah, find me that girl from the marketplace. The one with all the lotions and shit.”

He waited for a yes sir from his right hand man, but never got one. He met Simon’s confused gaze and went to describe you further when the Savior spoke up.

“What girl? I don’t know anyone like that.”

Negan sighed, trying hard not to take his mounting frustration out on his friend. “Yeah you do, shithead. You bought some lotion from her for your bum shoulder.”

At his blank stare, he continued.

“I spoke to her yesterday. You were fucking there. Struggling to flirt with Meredith at the table with all the shitty DVDs.” Negan explained, attempting to jog Simon’s memory. It didn’t seem to be working.

“We didn’t go to the market yesterday.”

“Yeah, we fucking did.”

“No. I was at The Kingdom yesterday while you went to the northeast outpost.”

Negan shook his head, unable to comprehend what Simon was saying. There was no way that was true. He remembered it as clear as day. He remembered you. Simon had to be wrong. And Negan was going to prove it to him.

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Simon asked, that worry gaze back and aimed squarely on him.

Negan waved him away, searching his room for his boots, jacket, and Lucille. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Simon hesitated, but he could see that Negan wanted to be alone so he complied.

Negan checked the calendar on his desk, his diligence when crossing off the days a daily ritual. He found the last day that was crossed out.

Halloween.

He wasn’t tripping fucking balls. He had his days right. Now he just had to find you.

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

One month later…

Negan rubbed tiredly at his eyes, wishing he’d worn his reading glasses. He sat at his desk, studying the maps of each community who fell under his territory. It was late and he’d been staring at the goddamn things for hours, though the action was pointless. He wasn’t focused. Hadn’t been since that day a month ago.

He’d never found you.

Thirty days later and there still wasn’t any sign of you, your booth at the market, or your cabin in the woods. He’d had men out looking. Chasing a fucking ghost.

No one knew of you. No one had any recollection of you. Except for him. And it was fucking torture.

You were his elusive seductress, his enchantress. You were all he could think about. You dominated his thoughts, his dreams. Sometimes he felt as if he could still feel you beneath his fingertips. Hear the melodic tune of your pulse against his. A random breeze of lavender would sweep over him, carried by the wind. But you never materialized.

He knew he hadn’t made you up. He knew you weren’t some sort of fever dream. He’d had the marks on his skin to prove it. Scratches down his back, bites along his neck and chest, and the sore limbs from hours of fucking to prove it.

But the more days that passed, the more his memory failed him. His mental image of you faded over time, along with the bruises and scratches that littered his flesh. You were becoming lost in the everyday bustle and he didn’t know how to stop it. He had to give up searching for you, fearing his followers would start to think he was losing his fucking mind. His men already thought so. Simon practically had a straitjacket picked out for him.

All he could do was keep an eye out for you when he went beyond the fences. He searched everywhere, under the guise he was looking for supplies. It was pathetic really. He didn’t even know your fucking name.

His watch beeped from beside him, alerting him to the new hour.

12:00 am.

He decided to turn in for the night, done with tormenting himself. He stood up and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop of several joints as he did. He made his way to the window to take one last cursory glance to ensure everything was as it should be. He noticed something odd immediately. He felt like he did that night…wired but sluggish. It was a combination he could never forget.

Looking out into the night he realized how dark and empty the sky was, save for the new full moon that spotlighted the earth. Negan’s whole body went stiff as he searched for his guards. He couldn’t see anyone. It was dead silent.

A sudden warmth filled his body and a tingle started at the base of his toes. It was pleasant and started to move up each limb. He found himself succumbing to it, eyes rolling back the stronger it got. Suddenly and without warning, a crippling pain overtook his entire body. His bones felt like they were breaking and extending to unbearable lengths. His skin felt stretched and pulled tight, fighting to cover his expanding body. He yelled out in pain as his spine broke through his shirt and his legs jutted out of his pants. Long black fur soon covered every surface of him while his hands turned to oversized paws with jagged talons. His face felt like it was being seared off as it contorted into new features.

He collapsed to the floor on his knees, unable to take the agony. Simultaneously, his mind began to piece together the forgotten fragments. He saw you clearly once again as he relived your moments together. He saw your first conversation and the time at the cabin. He saw him worshipping your body over and over again throughout the night, your sweat-laced bodies slicking against each other. He saw your mind and the plans you had for him.

He saw everything.

“I can fix that for you.”

“I can give you what you need, Negan.”

“I’ll make you better.”

Your voice echoed in his ears, your true meaning now apparent. He felt a swell of testosterone rush through his veins, the appetite for blood suddenly all-consuming. He sniffed the air, smelling nothing but lavender. He growled, his hair standing on end as he felt you get nearer.

You were here and you’d come to collect.

He hunched on all fours, the pose feeling natural to him in this state. Unbridled lust mixed with frenzied rage, making his mouth salivate. His teeth were larger in size and sharper, his tongue running over them hungrily. The moon shone itself in his room and he instinctually howled. He felt a pull towards the window, outside the walls of the factory. He didn’t stop to think. He only acted. He rushed the window and burst through, scaling the wall as he made his way down to the ground. He landed on his hind legs, standing up straight to scent the air. Beyond the trees he could see a plume of smoke.

The cabin.

You were calling for him…waiting. And as he ran towards you, human nature now erased by animalistic instincts, he heard your final words to him from that night ring in his head.

“I’m going to give you what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be your true form. And I’ll be your true mate. By the light of the moon, you’ll fulfill your true fate.”

#negan x reader #negan x you #negan fanfiction #negan fic #negan twd #negan #negan fanfic

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saikasae · 3 years

Text

Hello!

So I wrote something. I have been keeping this to myself, for quite a long time. But now I finally dared to post it here. I'm an amateur writer. I don't have any other writing experience, so I don't know where to start. So if you read this please leave out a note or any advice you would give to me. It would help me make my craft better. So your free to do so.

I don't have a working title for this. And it's not really under any genre at the moment. I do have a rough plan of its initial direction and the remaining cast. It may change over time. I hope I can see still keep writing. I do what to finish something in my life and this is one of them. This has been my baby that supports me in my emotional turmoil and has been my coping outlet with all the bad things that recently gone my way.

You free to criticize my work. And your free to do so. It would help me out.

CHAPTER 1

" It was because of the young man's charms, that she fell in love and left her family to be with him"

The plummet street of Harth is buzzing with the sound of the wet market. Voice of merchants and buyers resonated with the dirty streets. Bargaining a purchase or sling a deal. It was filled with voices with wants and needs, in the intent for betterment at each end of their bargain. It was a small fishing town in the outmost corner of Ciel.

A group of children huddles closely, by the inside the unmoving traveling wagon. Tranted with generation years of use. And seemingly incapable of its initial usage. It shows poke and tears of the cloth encapsulation it's an inner cabin. And rotten, creaking wooden panels threatening to collapse beneath their feet.

Voice looms over the wooden carriage, each bringing voices of concern and question. Regarding the statement.

One voice looms above the rest, as it regarding its listener with their concern. A young girl who seems not to have reached the age of ten held the authority in the present discussion. Urging her listener, by constantly shushing. Ever relevant to children's insolence. As her listener, who are children, both boys and girls alike, no one older than herself, refuses to listen to that so-called held authority. It was with bickering calls and name-calling, ever-present in childhood brawls. That she finally regains the presence of her audience.

" Like is said SHUT UP-" the young girl places her hand in her lavish hair. Having trouble asses control over the situation. Dressed in a hand me down, thin cloth of baker flour sack, fashioned into clothing and a pair of mismatched shoes, a fortune as regards if you live in slums. Which most citizens are barefooted.

Elie has a face said to be suited of a low Nobel woman, praise in its self is a high worth. If she would maintain their Nobel's counterpart's hygiene. Most more likely containing a luxurious amount of soaps fashioned from animal fats. Essential perfumed oils from flower, within the part of their land, is rarely to be seen or ever smell one.

If she only would wear an elegantly woven dress, with intricately detailed and finely measured to the wearer's body, and in a possession of a precious plot of land embroidered with a few finely crafted jewelry, accessory toppled with color full weirdly shapes, expensive gems stone. She would at least look the part.

In which as the young maiden regarded is a merely a boastful fashioned of wealth. No more than an empty representation of their extravagant, crude lifestyle.

"The man is a Lord, I heard."

She and the other children in her care. Had never seen a lord before, or contemplate enough to imagine, what would one looked like. But in their imagination maybe sum up to a single image; a bloated, grotesque large body, always hungry individual, fashioned with the most expensive clothes and gems in the land. With twice expression for hungry. And pious like face.

In summary, a pig wearing expensive clothing.

Harth has never seen a Nobel- a Lord before, and never contemplated to house one. It was a suburban fishing village, relative close to the kingdom of Ciel in its outermost outskirts. Closes to Laurice's family's summer house. A house by which the Laurice king's as born. Centered by both powerful families. Neither one wants to own Harth. The remaining of the few villages were disregarded by the realm. Poor enough to be disregarded for the prosperity of the realm.

The young girl's thoughts stray away, it was immediately brought back, by the urgent sounds of discussion of her audience.

" That's not true! My mother said that the girl did-not fell in love with him. But-but she was taken by him" regarded by a skinny boy with the voice of a screeching mouse.

"Yes." another one regarded,

"He had taken her to be his wife. "

" And forcible bedded her." a roar of laughter came, mostly from the boys present in the group.

Their female counterparts sneer in dismay at the other's reaction. And the apparent figure who openly disapproves of this is Elie, the leader, a female herself.

Once again the wagon itself has filed with laughter, senseless chattering, and this time quite a lot of jumping. Which in the wagon current state could not handle.

"That's Enough-" Elie's shout was cut off by a soft but attractive voice.

"Enough." It says, in a certain firmness which one would stop if one would hear.

Timothy.

Timothy came in the parted drapes of the thin cloth. He fashioned himself to enter at the front side -where the horse and the couch man would be if this wagon is still in usage. He entered exactly by the place where Elie is standing, conducting this meeting. And by this time in had interrupted her talk more times than she can count. And she can count This is Harth- where counting is hailed more than reading and writing. Counting here means survival.

She stares at Timothy in disbelief, as the latter makes way, sitting next to her makeshift pedestal. Her audience stopped by the arrival of Timothy, quietly sitting down, as he made his way beside Elie.

" You can't just barge into someone like that," Elie said looking up, eyeing Timothy in a distasteful glare.

He had interrupted Elie many times before. He always did not listen when she asked him, and would not bother to announce the present to her. And would always barge in the middle of else's talk.

His voice always made her jump, and Elie is not pleased with that.

Despite having physic of a 19 or the age closer to that. Which Elie, had politely questioned him about his age. and got a reply of "Close to that." with a condescending tone.

Timothy is quite childish and lacks the manner of a proper in a coming adult must-have. Elie knows that they are nowhere close to a Nobel or are one themselves. But it is not an excuse for oneself to act not like one.

She was always taught not to talk back or cut someone off like that.

Barbaric is the only word she could describe him. Barbaric not in a context of looks but by his action. Timothy is quite handsome in looks for his warm eyes, and a kindred smiling face. He has a very dirty hair if Elie could comprehend, inward competing-winning to her sun-dried brunet locks. Elie's thought if he would keep clean enough would surely resemble the yellow color of that of corn.

For Timothy, eyes are another matter of warmth. Contrasting its actual vibrant blue color, which reminded Elie of the cool blue waves of Harth. Timothy is only one it these parts. He not like any adult she met. His nice, crude, and a little bit outspoken at times.

Elie constantly experienced being shout at. Which is a merchant village in itself, a manner which grown by the local for your voice to be heard, you have to shout. But he kept his voice level at all cost.

" Hahaha, The Maiden and The Lad. A rather old story. Told by different people and heard by different ears." he regarded them with his open smiling face.

The children listen intently to the voice of the young man. Who had the eyes of every person from the wagon and Elie herself?

"By that, had been interpreted differently by the people of themselves." He raised his hands in an open gesture.

"It may be a story of love by which the young maiden herself falls in, willingly to the man's soft graces," Timothy said putting little pressure in his tone.

" An act of heinous crime itself, having that maiden snacked away from her family, seemly of the young man." he paused " forcing himself on her despite not feeling the same way. "

"But the different versions tell the same story. The Maiden left her family to be with the young man whether it is voluntary or not. "

Silent grew awkwardly from the children.

It was Elie that spoke up.

"You mean, that her family could be lonely."," When left with him."

"Yes, her family is lonely.",

" It is the part where the songs have missed, Timothy said. " It lacks the chivalrous act, that one wants to be said in a song,

familial love is indeed rarely depicted for a song."

Especially the song, The maiden, and the lad

that focuses on telling a journey of maiden having left family volunteer or not, to be with a lad that lives in the secluded woods. It is a romantic song if Ellie could comprehend not a familial one. That is held only the thoughts about the maiden for the lad.

Another girl voice out.

" Do you -think they may come for the her-her family to come home."

Timothy smiled

"Possibly."

"Timothy." a voice shouted in the distancing. Timothy, it continued.

The kids went up and pried open the drop cloth to looked out the shouting man.

The man wearing clothes of high quality is relatively simple at first glance. But Upon closer inspection, it is the finely sewn laces, handcrafted meticulously to fit the wearers built. An aristocrat if Elie could comprehend.

It voices out Timothy's name with urgency, as his handsome features drip with sweat, straying hair frame his face possible for the fact that the man may have been looking for Timothy for a long time. Voicing out his voice without the intent of stopping.

" Hey, Timothy! Your man is calling you home." The wagon thunder with laughter yet again. Uncontainablehis time.

Timothy gave out a huge sigh and head out of the cabin.

Elie looked at Timothy's figure as he heads toward the man.

News of Timothy having got himself a Nobel is not new at all. Elie had perceived it at least, knowing Timothy and all.

He held himself different from the other young man she has seen here in Harth. Having held himself better than the women combined in this small fishing town.

One of the boys jumped up and down and said.

"Just when Timothy got to play with us."

" We can help it, you know that he rather busy."

"From running around and all."

"Why Timothy, why can you stay longer" a younger girl cried out.

"Shut it." Elie voice out with authority.

" One time -" the screeching voice spoke up and ignored Elie. "One time, my father got Timothy to help, moving out the fishes we just caught. Despite having worked hard the whole day without complaining. Three copper -my father gave him enough to last you three days of the meal. He gave it to me. All of it. Not a single one was taken. He says to kept it a secret between the both of us."

Woah. A loud appreciation poured out from the children. The discussion that they just held turned into an open forum, of Timothy's good deeds.

"I got one also, I was in the Forrest, there to picked up wood for the fire. When I lost my way, it was also beginning to darken - I'm mean. I was so scared thinking I was gonna die, there where he found me. And lead back to my home."

Another round of applause came.

Another spoke out.

" I was playing in the ditch when I fell and sprained my feet, and their right then Timothy appeared. He lends his back for me, offering a ride in his back. There he carried me back to where my brother was. He was so nice and smelled nice too!"

"Smell nice?" Elie questioned.

" Yes, I supposed like flowers" then the applause came.

Flowers. Elie never smelled one. And surely is the same for the children around her. She had seen one displayed in a glass container behind the counter of the store owner, meticulously guarded. It looks nice but expensive. Timothy must have gotten it from that man.

Elie has a story of her own of Timothy's heroic act. Which involves one of the pair of her which matched shoes.

Timothy is nice. But saying it often is not pleasing to her ears. The children got rowdier.

"That's right, Elie." the familiar voice said.

"Your mother is looking for". Timothy said peaking out his yellow head from the parted cloth.

"And don't worry, I will be back," he said addressing all the children in a wagon. And left.

The wagon was one again filed with cheers.

#writers #write #aspiring writer #first book #saikasae #story #constructive critism welcome #criticism #writing advice #advice #my story #bookish #english story #book #genre

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kallura-icedcoffee · 6 years

Text

golden hour: opal

A/N: The song referenced in this fic is “Demons” by Sleigh Bells. There’s also some bonus Plance.

She’s Electric

Allura looks really good in leather pants

“You don’t need to pay for all my drinks.” Keith picked up his Old Fashioned and clinked glasses with Lance.

“You came to visit me all the way from Texas and I’m going to show you a good time.” Lance smirked. “If you want you can buy us breakfast burritos tomorrow cause I assure you my ass is gonna be hungover.” He knocked back a shot and immediately ordered another drink.

“So I’m gonna be honest Pidge in a band is…”

“Hot? Yeah I know.”

“I was gonna say not what I was expecting.” Keith took another sip and watched the crowd in the packed club, leaning back against the bar.

“If we were talking about high school Pidge I would’ve totally said the same thing, but she really branched out after we graduated. I think she got tired of everyone thinking she’s just some tech nerd hacker girl.”

“Well I mean I knew she was taking guitar lessons and you said she picked them up quickly but I would have never thought for a million years she’d want to be in a band.”

“I can’t wait for you to see her. She’s so cool when she plays. She’s really excited you’re here too.” Lance grinned and checked his watch. “I think they’re gonna start soon.”

People had already started crowding near the stage and the music they were playing over the speakers had begun to die down. Lance and Keith finished their drinks and waded into the sea of people but were only able to make it half way in before they hit a wall of unmoving bodies and decided to stay put. By this point the drums were already assembled on stage and two guitars, a bass guitar and two microphones with stands were being brought out. A man who worked at the venue started doing sound check. Thirty more minutes and the MC was on stage attempting to hype up the crowd.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?!”

The crowd cheered.

“You guys ready to rock?!”

They cheered a bit louder.

“Well we’re very excited to have these talented ladies here tonight and we know you are too so let’s not waste anymore time shall we? Let’s hear it for Castle of Lions!”

Three ladies walked onstage to loud claps and hoots and whistles. A tall athletic tanned brunette with a short bob took her place behind the drums. A curvy blonde with low pigtails sauntered out and picked up the bass. Pidge came into view next. She wore her hair in a high messy ponytail. She’d switched out her regular thin silver framed spectacles for more stylish black glasses. She wore a black flannel that was tied at the waist, black cutoff shorts and black suspenders. Black combat boots finished off the look.

Pidge picked up her emerald green glitter guitar and fiddled with it a bit while she scanned the crowd. They hadn’t dimmed the lights yet and she was able to spot Lance and Keith quickly. Her face lit up and she motioned for them to come closer. Lance shook his head, signaling that they couldn’t move any further. Her nose scrunched up and next thing she was on the microphone.

“Hey move the hell out of the way so my boyfriend can come up front!” She snapped then immediately smiled.

The other two girls on stage laughed. Keith looked mortified. Lance just smiled proudly and brought Keith to the front row, right up against the stage, while people whistled at them and patted them on the back. Pidge gave a small wave and winked at the both while Lance made a kissy face at her.

“I love it when she’s sassy and authoritative.” Lance beamed while looking up at her.

The final girl came out on stage to more applause and hollering. Keith did a bit of a double take when he saw her. She wore a cutoff graphic tank top with black leather pants and kitten heeled red ankle boots. Her white hair was long and a bit wild, coming down over half her face. Her smoky eye makeup made her blue eyes even more vibrant. She picked up white guitar and slung it over her shoulder, tuning it a bit more and adjusting the strap before looking out into the audience.

“That’s a special edition opal white Fender Telecaster!” Keith blurted out, staring at the girl who, between her guitar and her hair, looked like the moon.

“I have no clue what you’re saying but keep it in your pants loverboy, it’s just a guitar” Lance said.

“Check, check check.” She said softly into the microphone. “Hi guys did you miss us?”

The crowd yelled.

“Good cause we missed you too and we’re so glad to be back here at Balmera. Thank you as always for having us.”

Her voice was soft and sweet like honey and Keith was surprised to hear a British accent. She turned to the other girls and placed a fingerless gloved hand over the microphone. She was checking with each girl to make sure they were ready. When they nodded she was back at the mic.

“Well if you guys are ready and we’re ready let’s do this!”

The crowed clapped and the lights dimmed.

“Who is she?” Keith whispered quickly in what little silence they had left.

“Allura.”

Pidge started off the song, strumming aggressively on her guitar. Lance was right, Keith thought, she did look pretty damn cool up there. Allura and the blonde joined in briefly before the drummer dropped a powerful heavy beat sending the whole crowd in an uproar. They began to clap in unison. The stage lights were a mix of reds and whites and strobes.

“You drink the wise blood. You're gonna hear about it. You'll be taken down brick by brick by brick. Burn the orphanage, you're gonna pay for it. They will purify block by block by block.”

“Demons, come on” she continued to sing with Pidge backing her up. “You've got a vision! You're on a mission! Demons, live on. And when I die, hang me high!”

Allura worked the stage during her lulls in singing, moving from one end to the other. She would turn her back on the crowd and take her hands off the guitar to push up her hair and roll her hips. The cutoff tank top she wore gave everyone a taste of what was clearly a full back tattoo. Keith could see the bottom of what looked like a lion and flowers. He swallowed hard.

“They're gonna bury you. They're gonna finish. They're gonna stand em up six by six by six. You pull the hood back. I wanna know, which way will the heavenly go? Take it down, take it down, take it down. Take it down, take it down, take it down.”

She was powerful and beautiful and seductive. One minute she seemed as if she was losing herself, out of control, next moment her mouth would curl into a devilish smile and she looked like a predator scanning the crowd for her pray. She spotted Keith in the front row and locked her gaze on him, eyes burrowing into his skull. She flashed him a grin with a playful lip bite. His breath caught in his throat.

“Demons, come on. You've got a vision! You're on a mission! Demons, live on. And when I die, hang me high!”

Now the crowd was singing the chorus along with her.

“Demons, come on. You've got a vision! You're on a mission! Demons, live on. And when I die, hang me high!”

Pidge played a short solo for a moment while Allura whipped her hair around before bringing her lips back to the mic.

“And you will answer to no one else but me. And you will answer to no one else but me. And you will answer to no one else but me. And you will answer to no one else but me…”

The song ended and the crowd erupted into applause and howls. Allura stood there for a moment with her hair completely covering her face, breathing heavily. She finally pushed her hair back with her hands and sauntered to a nearby stool with bottled water and took a sip. Keith didn’t even clap at first, he just stood there a bit dumbfounded, staring.

He did that a lot for the rest of the set, just staring, listening, taking her in as she sang and screamed and howled into the mic. During the upbeat songs she was electric and during the slower songs absolutely alluring. At one point during a more sultry song Allura crawled on her hands and knees and licked the side of Pidge’s boot during her guitar solo which sent the audience into a frenzy.

Before Keith knew it, to his disappointment, the show was over. The girls were bowing, having given the crowd two additional encores and were exiting the stage. Lance led Keith back to the bar to order drinks for the girls who he knew would join them eventually.

“So…what did you think?” Lance smirked sipping a fresh cocktail.

“Pretty good.” Keith said cooly.

“They actually played some of that emo shit you live for and that’s all you can say?”

“Fine. Pretty damn good. Happy?” Keith said while seemingly looking around for someone.

“She’s not seeing anyone in case you were wondering.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lance flashed Keith a very knowing look.

Keith was about to snap at him when a pair of hands hugged Lance from behind. Lance straightened up and spun around to see Pidge grinning at him. He wrapped his arms around her neck and bent down to give her a slow kiss, which turned into a mini makeout session given how much Lance had already had to drink.

“You were amazing up there.” He placed more tiny pecks on her lips.

“Thank you. You smell like vodka.” She laughed into his mouth.

“I got you some too don’t worry.”

“Good boy. Keith!”

Pidge pulled away and dove into Keith for a warm hug. He smiled and ruffled her ponytail.

“What did you think?”

“You guys were amazing. Very cool Ms. Lead Guitar.”

Pidge beamed and did a little curtsey. She then took the drink Lance had gotten for her and sucked it down.

“Please tell me one of those is for me.” Keith heard a familiar voice from behind him. He straightened up.

“Of course.” Lance handed it to Keith purposely to give to her with grin.

Keith shot him a death glare before turning around to hand it to Allura.

“Allura, this is my friend Keith from out of town, Keith this is Allura.”

“Thanks.” She took the drink from him. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re good” he fumbled his words out. “I mean you’re singing is good, the songs are good.”

He quickly gulped down his drink to stop the rambling. Allura snickered and sipped her drink.

“The girls got a booth, wanna join them?” she suggested.

Everyone got more drinks before joining the other girls who introduced themselves as Shay and Romelle. Lance and Pidge, being the little assholes they were, made sure to quickly dive into the booth leaving Keith no choice but to sit next to Allura. Keith mostly sat quietly, partly soaking up the conversation, party acutely aware of how Allura’s shoulder was pressed against his and she smelled an intoxicating mixture of perfume and sweat.

“So you’re from Texas” her voice finally cut through his wandering mind.

“Huh?”

She leaned in and got dangerously to his ear, her lips actually brushing his lobe. He shivered.

“I heard you’re from Texas.”

“Uh-um yeah well I was born there and then we moved here but then I went back for school.”

“Cool.”

She brought her glass to her lips but didn’t drink, simply resting it there.

“So,” she continued, “Is your girlfriend going to be ok with the fact that you’re here with a bunch of girls getting drunk at some dive club?”

He almost choked on his jack and coke.

“I, uh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she finished off the last of the cup’s contents before placing it down, tapping the glass with her nails, “that’s cool too.”

Keith’s brow arched.

Allura had been sitting at the edge of the booth and excused herself to get a new drink.

“Keith, buddy, you look like you could use a drink too.”

Keith’s forehead crinkled and he looked down at his half full glass.

“No I don-”

Lance cleared his throat loudly to cut him off before motioning with numerous quick nods towards the bar where Allura was standing, very much alone.

“Oh…OH! Yes, I should go freshen this up.” He quickly slid out and made a beeline toward the white haired singer.

Lance shook his head as he threw an arm around Pidge, kissing her temple.

“God this kid. I have to do everything for him” he grumbled.

AO3 LINK

#kallura #kalluramonth2018 #ficsbyKIC #plance

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bittykimmy13 · 6 years

Text

Queen of the Sea (GT) ~ Chapter 2

((All posted chapters))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DEVIAN

At his current point in life, Devian was no stranger to being forced aboard a ship with his usefulness being the only thing between him and a demise at the bottom of the sea. He understood. People were greedy, and mixing with the wrong lot meant they would squeeze what riches they could out of him.

He did as he was told, helping others from the attacking ship’s crew take crates and supplies down to the cargo hold. All the while, he stole glances around at the ship. It was certainly more well-kept and larger than the Cutlass, which had already sunk under the waves in the distance. This was an odd vessel, seemingly a combination of pirate and luxury. There had to be at least three levels under the main deck, and glass windows offered him view to stairways and halls within. Massive sails hung high overhead, and a swirled sigil decorated flags and banners all around. What is this ship? Devian wondered as he was handed yet another crate by a man with a long blond ponytail. “She’s called the Clemency,” answered the man.

“I-I… what?” Devian stared, realization dawning at the sight of the man’s ruby red eyes. “You--did you probe my mind? You… you must be a druid!”

“Your thoughts were being very loud, my friend,” the druid said with a sly grin. “If you’ll look around, I’m sure you’ll find races for more interesting than mine.” Devian wavered, eyes flitting to the crew at work and truly seeing them for the first time. Some of them sported fiery red or ocean blue hair. “Are… are any of them human?” “Some,” the druid answered with a shrug. “Most have some variety of non-human in them, if they aren’t full-blooded. Werecreatures, nereids, pyromancers, and worse.” He grinned and waved him off. “Don’t go prying into their backgrounds now. I don’t foresee you being with us for long, anyway.” A chill seized Devian, unsure if the druid was ribbing him or not. Some of his kind were known to develop precognitive abilities. “What are you doing standing around?” a sharp, familiar voice called. “Get moving!” Andrea strode across the deck toward Devian. She took him by the shoulder and led him down the steps to the cargo hold. He might have not recognized her, if not for her voice. She was wearing different clothing than before, oddly enough. “Do you normally make costume changes after sinking a ship?” Devian asked. “You’d have sunk with it if not for me,” she scoffed, pointing to where to set the crate down. The cargo hold was packed with supplies and food. The perishables were the easiest in reach. In fact, the grape crate he had first brought in lay right at the edge of the piled supplies. Across the provisions, however, was a less welcome sight. Cells lined the wall. Andrea caught his wistful look at the grapes. “Behave yourself, and you may even earn a few of those with your dinner tonight.” She jerked her head toward the first cell. “In you get.” He swallowed. “Is this really necessary? I pose little threat to a crew of non-humans.” “With twig limbs like yours, I have to agree. But it’s better safe than sorry. You were freely roaming aboard one of the most notorious vessels in this part of the seas. Now, in. I’ve been told you were already searched.” “Multiple times,” he muttered. He’d been left with his map--his only anchor to life, it seemed. “Are we not in agreement that I will lead your captain to the treasure?” “My queen,” she corrected, clanging the cell door shut after he begrudgingly went inside. “We have more pressing matters than to continue questioning you at the moment. You’ll have your audience with the queen and plead your case once she deems it time. For now, be grateful you weren’t tied up with the Cutlass bastards.” Devian bit back a response, and even that appeared enough to insult her. Andrea looked him over slowly. In the light of the lanterns, her green eyes glimmered like glass bottles. There was something unnerving about the way she watched him, almost like he was prey. “What about you?” he dared to ask. “What are you? Non-human?” The half-smile tugging at her lip answered his question. Which left the new question of precisely what sort of non-human she was. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said. With that, she flipped her short auburn braid off her shoulder and strode to the stairs.

The hours came and went, and no audience with the self-proclaimed Queen of the Sea was bestowed upon him. In fact, not a soul entered the multi-purpose brig and provision storage.

Devian pushed himself hard against the bars, teeth gritting as he strained to reach the crate of grapes, but it was useless. If only he had thought to place it closer before going into the cell. But then, he could imagine Andrea shoving it across the room before leaving him. His only hope was that the ship would hit a high enough wave to send the crate sliding his way. With his luck, it would tilt in the other direction. Dropping his arm, he stayed leaning against the bars. His stomach growled ravenously, but he wasn’t hungry enough yet to pass out. It wasn’t the first time he had gone without food for so long, and he loathed the knowledge that the pain would become much worse in a few hours. As if in response to his plight, one of the grapes popped out from between the wooden slats on top of the crate. It rested there for a moment, unmoving as Devian watched the phenomenon with wide eyes. “What in the world?” he muttered. Something that was not a grape climbed out of the crate next. Devian made a face, bracing himself to see a big, ugly rat that had managed to stake its claim on the food better than he could. He shivered, thinking that the rodent may have been hiding in the crate even while he was transporting it from the Cutlass. But the creature was no rat. The thing pulling itself out of the crate had arms and legs that were no thicker than a pen. It looked like a person--a young woman with a head of stunningly light hair. She stayed crouched beside the grape, facing Devian. All he could do was stare back, wondering if the constant stream of stress in his life had finally cracked his sanity to pieces. Never looking away from him, the tiny woman grasped the grape with both arms. The fruit made her look positively tiny. She opened her mouth, but whatever she said was not loud enough to reach him. She looked at him expectantly, awaiting his response. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. The girl flinched, but she stayed rigidly where she was. “Could you come closer? I didn’t catch a word of that, and I rather you not have to yell.” Her pale skin seemed to go paler at the suggestion. Truth be told, he was itching for a better look at her, and while she looked nervous, she was willing to indulge his curiosity for the sake of communication. She clutched the grape tighter and stood up. The fruit was nearly the size of her torso, like a watermelon in her arms. Either the weight of the grape or her fear made her feet drag as she neared the edge of the crate. “Is this better?” she asked, her tiny voice finally tinkling in his ears. He nodded, mouth dry as he leaned his forehead against the bars to look closer. Other than her size, by far the most non-human thing about the tiny woman was her hair. It wasn’t easy to get a full view of it all, what with it being tied back, but its opalescence caught the lantern light. The silvery color held pale streaks of lavender, blue, pink, and green. Devian couldn’t be sure of the color of the angular eyes that remained fixed on him, as though he might lunge toward her. “I can’t reach you, you know,” he said. “You have nothing to fear from me. You’re safer than I am at the moment, in fact.” She glanced away, pursing her lips. Even so simple a movement fascinated him. A million questions raced through his mind, but only one found its way past his throat. “What were you saying before?” he asked. Her shoulders rose and fell with a steeling breath. “I was asking if you wanted one.” She nodded at the grape in her arms. “Though, I suppose that is a foolish question, seeing as you have been struggling to reach it for some time.” He wondered then why she didn’t say something hours ago, if she was so concerned. But noting the way her legs quivered, he supposed it might have taken her all of those hours to muster up the courage to reveal herself. And it was no wonder, with how impossibly miniscule she was. “Are you a sea nymph?” he asked, having decided she couldn’t be a hallucination. “Does it matter?” She dropped again to crouch. With a little grunt, she heaved the grape over the side of the crate and sent it rolling his way. He reached between the bars and snatched it up at once, devouring it in one bite. The sweetness burst in his mouth so sharply that he seized for a moment before regaining his senses. He lifted his eyes back to the miniature woman. “Thank--wait, please don’t go yet!” She looked over her shoulder, a little smile tugging at her lips as she pointed down at the crate. “I am not leaving you, only getting more grapes for you. No need to fret.” “Oh… oh, I see.” Over the next half hour or so, she rolled him grape after grape. Neither of them spoke much, other than Devian’s murmur of thanks after each gift. It wasn’t until the pit in his stomach was no longer aching that he gathered the nerve to say anything else, worried he might frighten her away somehow. “Forgive me,” he said, “but what exactly are you?” She paused at the edge of the crate, wariness pinching her face as she crossed her arms stubbornly. It was difficult to be intimidated by so small a creature, but he observed her respectfully all the same, awaiting her response. “Someone in need of help,” she said, seeming to select her words carefully. “Someone you can help, just as I have helped you.” Whatever respect he had for her deflated. His face fell. “Right. That’s how the whole bloody world works, doesn’t it? Even for a little thing like you.” Her lips drew into a pout. “I am not a thing! I am far more than my size would lead you to believe. And by helping me, you would be saving your own life just as well.” “How so?” he asked, frowning skeptically. “I know of the treasure you seek, and it is not ordinary in any sense. I am able to activate its power. If you can assist me in reaching the treasure, I will help you escape for good.” She gestured upward at the ship. “These ruffians will surely betray you the moment they realize they cannot reach the treasure. None of you have any ideawhat you are after.” He couldn’t argue with those points, but he remained wary. “And I’m supposed to trust you, then? If you would spare me the riddles and tell me what you are, perhaps I would be more inclined to believe you.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, she shook her head. “I was not always this size--this pathetic, little…” She shut her eyes for a second, gathering herself. “Whether you want to believe me or not, it is you who is sailing to your own death. The treasure requires a certain touch. You need me.” Although he didn’t want to admit it, his depth of knowledge on the treasure was lacking. He had only the foggiest of ideas. It was something people would sail treacherous seas for. Something people would kill for. Something a defenseless, miniature woman would risk exposing herself for. “Supposing you do know how to activate the treasure,” he said slowly, “can’t you tell me what exactly it is?” She hesitated. “I… I only want you to know that it will help me help you. As for these mercenaries, lead them astray. Make them believe the treasure is simply a god’s riches that are ready for the taking. It’s safer that way. Now, may I see the map?” He straightened and scooted back defensively. “What for?” Offering no immediate answer, she climbed down the side of the crate, using the gaps in the boards as handholds. When she reached the ground, she shuffled toward Devian’s cell, seeming to consider carefully each and every step she took. “How am I to know if you truly possess a path to the treasure?” she asked. “I must see the map up close for myself, even… even if I…” “You’re frightened of me.” He let out a soft scoff. No one had ever been intimidated by him, but it hardly made his ego swell to have a girl the length of his hand trembling in his shadow. “How do you expect to take a look at the map if you can’t make yourself come closer? What are you so afraid of? I’m the one trapped behind bars.” “Bars will not stop you from grabbing me if I get too close. There is more than one way to be trapped, Devian.” He blinked at her. “You know my name.” She nodded and inched closer, making her smallness more and more apparent with each step. “I have heard your name before, when those men would force you to carry provisions into the cargo hold of the Cutlass. I lived aboard that ship. Years, I lived there, and you are the first I have dared to speak to--because I have hope that this treasure can save both of us.” Her progress faltered just before she was within arm’s reach. “I’m not going to grab you,” he said softly, pulling the pocket of his vest open to retrieve the map. “What’s your name?” “I am Kaia.” With a great, stealing breath, she closed the distance to the cell bars with quick steps and climbed between the metal poles. She wavered for a moment, staring up at him while her chest rose and fell fretfully. “The map?” she breathed. For a second, he could only stare, marveling at her size and bravery. She’s desperate, he thought. That gave him hope that she was being truthful. “Of course.” Devian unfolded the map and spread it across the floorboards in front of her. Her nervousness eased up, replaced by wonder as she studied the images and shifting text. “Magnificent. You can read this?” “The not-so secret language of demigods. It wasn’t easy to learn it, mind you. Reading for too long can make the eyes bleed, or so the legends say.” “More than legends,” she said quietly. “You best be careful.” The door at the top of the stairs swung open. Kaia leaped back in alarm, then seemed to freeze in place. Footsteps came down the steps, and she still was too startled to move and hide herself. It was too late now. Even if she ran as fast as she could, she was going to be spotted. Acting entirely on instinct, Devian swept his hand down and snatched her into a fist. She tried to scream, but he swiftly covered her mouth with a fingertip, shushing softly. “Not a sound,” he hissed, dropping her into his inner vest pocket. A second later, Andrea strode importantly in front of his cell, aiming a pistol his way. “Up! The queen demands your presence.”

#mywriting #gt writing #queen of the sea #devian #kaia #andrea #clive

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thealfanator · 7 years

Text

Dandelion’s Tales, Part 2 ~ Chapter 4

Another day. Another day trapped in this kind prison. Well, not trapped, but my only way back home is Dune, and he’s still nowhere to be seen! Reluctantly crawling out of bed, I dragged myself to get ready for the day ahead. My door handle stopped me for a brief moment, but it was enough. Fingertips hovering over the metal. Standing there for so long, paralysed, wondering what the day would present to me. Would it be kind? Or would I be in for a shit time with Tugna constantly breathing down my neck? Where was Dune? Where the fuck was Hunter? I felt like I had been tricked into a false sense of security, as if there was something going on here that I didn’t understand. I closed my eyes firmly and grasped the handle, the familiar sensation flooding back to me. I almost plucked the surface, hoping it would make that familiar twang of a lute string. Sighing; disappointment oozing from within me once again, I built the courage and pushed.

It was dark this morning. Thunder shattered over the village, smothering us, enclosing us. I strapped my crimson on tight in defence from the bitter wind and the shards of rain that seemingly pierced my eyes and my skin. Exiting the building, I tried to slowly close the door behind me, but the fickle gusts took care of that for me – smashing shut violently as if everything I touched turned against me. I struggled my way to the medical ward; Tugna, that filthy coward, was only on duty in the evening, so hopefully... hopefully…

“I wish to enter, please.” I pleaded in a tone too similar to the weather. “I need to see someone.” Two guards stood either side of the small, battered wooden door. One looked half asleep whilst the other looked as if he’d just been struck with lightning; vigilant and alert. He was the one who replied from underneath his cold, unmoving face.

“Dune, is it?” he spat, “Yes, we’ve heard, and no, you cannot.” He mocked me. I saw his tiny smirk from underneath his cracked lips. He tried hard to retain his guard-like tone, but there was no denying he found satisfaction in my disappointment.

“Why not?” I growled.

“What does it matter? You’re not coming in, either way. Now, shoo.” He treated me like I was dirt under his shoe, or an unwanted pest at his feet. I was powerless. Everybody here was siphoning my rights. What was going on down there?

Time to put an end to it. Furious, I marched further down the village, following the well-trodden path through wooden houses and to Cebri’s main ‘headquarters’, I suppose. She was the leader here, and I was told this is where she spends most of her time. Gradually approaching, I stared eagerly at the hut. It was identical to the others. The roof was thatched with straw, and uneven logs supported the exterior. It was a tiny, just like the others. How come a village so penniless be so secure, and so overprotective with rules? Two identical looking guards stood at the entrance to the door, as if the two I had just met had quickly ran to my destination as an act to amuse me; like a play, I being the audience.

“I want… need to see Cebri.” I hissed to the guard. By this point, I had had enough. I was getting in there.

“I’m sorry, Mister…” he stared innocently at me. I filled in my name. “Mister… Dandelion, but Cebri is currently indisposed.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Maybe what I was about to do was out of line, but cutting the rope between Dune and I was too out of line. Grabbing a tuft of an old woman’s hair, I held her in front of me and threatened to use violence. Staring, piercing the guard’s eyes, I shouted.

“You will let me see her, or I will do something I am almost certainly going to regret!” I lied. Or was I? Would I really do what was necessary to get what I wanted? Others had started to gather round. By this point, a second version of me had materialised beside me, a blue essence fading around it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, oddly calm and in a ghostly tone.

“I need to see my friend.” The real me replied. His expression remained the same, as if no remark could ever surprise him.

“Does he really mean that much to you? What’s stopping you from making your own way back to Novigrad, Hmm?” I scoffed. I wouldn’t survive an hour, unless I wrote the creatures of the forest a poem to bore them as I snuck away.

“Don’t be so ridiculous!”

“What about Hunter? He seems well-equipped to take you-“

“Will you shut up?!” I took a knife from my pocket and threw it at my own apparition. He disappeared. What remained was me standing here grabbing this poor woman, the guards staring – startled, and the non-existent knife I just threw dissipating with a bluey hue.

My body was possessed by this horrific act, like some other person was controlling my actions like some sort of nasty puppet, grasping by limbs by threads of string. I was twisted. I almost let her go and apologised, but no – I had to get my point across. I held her tighter as she squirmed in my arms.

“Alright, alright. Fine. Let her go!” he said. I did so. I let the poor woman go and she threw me a sharp glare, running off wildly. I was as relieved myself as the others around me. “Cebri!” the guard called monotonously. She opened the door and hushed me inside, eyes of fire. Turns out guards were liars too. I tried to hold my head up high, but the eyes glued to me weighed me down and I hung my head in shame.

“What in the world was that?” she hissed at me. I took a seat, which consequently shook the ground as it creaked beneath my force.

“I’m sorry.” I said weakly, “I just needed to get your attention.”

“And what for, huh? Go on! What do you want?” She stood in the darkest corner of the room, yet her furious expressions were light as day.

“I need to see Dune. Why can’t I see him?” As soon as the words slid from my tongue she turned away, like she was trying to hide something. Her wrinkles cracked under her slow movements whilst she hiked carefully to the strategically placed bureau in the corner of the tiny room.

“I’m afraid-“

“That I cannot see him. Yes, yes, I’ve heard it too many times.” I interrupted. “Listen,” I continued, leaning forward in my chair, “the last time I saw him, he had a stab wound in his side, with him screaming into my ear in agony. I sat beside him, worried shitless for his safety. I came with him to this place and my only way home is with him, so effectively, without him, this naïve village is really a prison!” I shocked the room silent after my raised voice, like the calm after a storm.

“Dandelion, I can assure you he is safe in the medical ward.” She said quickly, tossing her words across the battleground beneath our feet. She was stern like a rock in a wild sea, and I was the ship; buckling under the crashing waves.

“Right, then it’s time I left.” I didn’t want to speak to her anymore. I had had enough. She touched my shoulder softly; calmer than a few minutes ago.

“Don’t do what you did on your way in, or you’ll soon regret it.” Her remark jabbed sharply up my spine. A clear warning. All heart-warming words she had spoken to me before had gone out the window. Our relationship was dissolved. I walked out of the room.

Hunter came back from his trip. He walked heavily through the entrance, with sweat on his brow – with people huddled around, occasionally patting him on the back in thanks. Others wandering nearby, watching from a distance. He had a rack of animals bouncing lively at his chest, yet as lifeless as the darkness – cold and absent. You could almost choose from them; so many corpses. I caught him as he walked my way.

“Hunter.”

“Ah, Dandelion. How are you?” I ignored his question.

“I need a favour.” My voice dissolved into a whisper. He stopped, gazing at me more seriously than before. “I need you to distract Tugna somehow this evening.”

“You are not planning to sneak in tonight?” he returned, in a further hushed voice, shocked at my request.

“I just need a distraction. That filth of a man will do anything in his path to stop me, and I need him out of the way.” He stared into the distance for a long time, juggling decisions.

“Fine. He won’t be guarding the door tonight, and neither will the other guard.”

“Thank you!” He grabbed my arm firmly.

“Be careful. I will only help you this once. If you get caught, things won’t end well for you.”

“I understand. I just need to know that Dune is alright. Thanks again.”

***

And that’s when I did it. I waited until silence was all I could hear – no voices, no movements – then I carefully slid the key on the desk into my hand and went to the wooden, frail door. It unlocked cleanly with a satisfying click. I placed the key back down on the table; I wasn’t going to be long.

Bracing the midnight air, I walked on the grassy plain; scared and vulnerable. Although it wasn’t strictly forbidden to be outside this time, if I went into the medical bay, there would be “serious consequences”. I had to be in and out before anyone noticed. Hunter did the favour, thankfully. The entrance was naked, unguarded. Breathing a sigh of relief, I swiftly entered, glancing behind me.

The dark, dismal room stank the same stinking smell as the last time I entered. The last time I saw Dune. However, something was different. Something I couldn’t put my finger on until I stabbed my palm over the bottom of a waxed candle, and shoved it in front of my face for better view. The room was empty. The beds, unused. Silence larger than anyone could imagine. The murky stench of disease and death blended with the clean sterilization of all surfaces. A clean morgue. Disguised. Only my footsteps occupied the desert of a place. Nothing. Desperately looking around for the door to the small room Dune was supposedly in, I became more and more aware of my trespassing. My heart beat faster with every step I made, and sweat called at my forehead, complementing my anxiousness. There it was. The door. A few days ago, an injured Dune had entered this room, with I next to him and an almost fatal stab wound, and now I stood in front of it, the ominous steel handle begging me to open it. I don’t know how long I was standing there. I was paralysed by fear….

As the hinges screamed and the smell of blood oozed into my nose, like a coin on your tongue – the tang, like a knife stabbing your senses, I entered. Using the candle I held in my shaking hand, I saw it. Dune wasn’t there. He wasn’t in his bed. It looked like a scenario from a hideous fairy-tale. He had vanished. All that had remained was a bed and a wooden desk, both drenched in blood. The white marble floor faded to a deep red, the operating utensils equally stained. The bed in the room was vacant; the only entity sitting there was a thick red puddle. I retreated from the room, almost vomiting on the floor. I was appalled. Sickened. Where the fuck was he? What is this? This is messed up. Something caught my eye before I considered running as far as possible from the room. A leather-bound book. It was as though it glowed in the darkness, as if I was meant to pick it up. And I did. It almost pulsed in the palm of my hand. I opened it.

It was gibberish. It was all nonsense. What was I supposed to do with this? Shapes and circles and demonic symbols scrawled the parchment with thin reckless lines. Illegible notes… were they even notes? They were nothing. There was nothing except for lines drawn by some sort of maniac. I collapsed the book in frustration and rushed my way to the steep marble steps as quickly and quietly as I could.

I reached my chambers, unseen. As least I thought I was unseen. I found out as I properly entered. I closed the door behind me and grabbed for the key. Nothing. What? The key was gone. Replaced was a small slit of parchment, a note. It read, “You shouldn’t have done that.” My breathing stuttered. My shaking hand put the note down. No, I burnt it in the fire. I couldn’t let anyone see it. Reaching for my bed, the air still as silent as ever, I lied down and struggled to pry my eyes closed. I didn’t sleep that night, paralysed from a simple note. Someone knew.

---

Hello! I hope you have had a good week, and that nothing has been too stressful. I must thank you for reaching the end of this chapter; even one person just considering reading this is enough. I am incredibly grateful for the interest you give, from the beginning: The Cold-Hearted Thief, all the way up to now. Please, I’m open to feedback. Let me know. Take care! :)

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gravitymirage · 7 years

Text

Taking Back Control – Part 11

Warning: This chapter contains some blood and gore and general angst.

@intplier

See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.

Amy spent that night in a haze. She had assumed she’d be unable to sleep, but after so many days of such little sleep, she eventually crashed. Twisted ideas of escape bled into her dreams, leaving her tossing and turning. The plan had gone as hoped, and she was running through the woods with Mark in a desperate attempt at freedom. The trees thinned out, and relief crashed through her. She had left the alter’s dimension, she was safe. But something wasn’t right. It felt as if ice had seeped into her veins and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It was dark, and she didn’t know where she was. Amy reached to grasp Mark’s cold hand, holding onto it like a lifeline. She was in a bedroom, and it seemed vaguely familiar. Spirals stairs moved upwards in the corner, and a grand piano stood proudly in front of her. It was monochrome, and the realization hit Amy like a blow. This was Dark’s room…

“Mark…” She turned to her boyfriend, and her heart stopped. A coy smile graced his pale lips. The ringing started again. Always the ringing.

“What’s wrong, dear?” It was him. His gaze regarded her, seemingly amused. She pulled away desperately, but he wouldn’t let go. “Come on Amy, what’s wrong? Don’t you love me anymore? You certainly didn’t seem to mind my kiss. I mean, you didn’t pull away, did you?” He leaned in, his breath on her ear. “What would Mark think?” She screamed, and his spare hand quickly shushed her, causing the sound to die in her throat. Her voice was gone, but she mouthed frantic words

“Please. Don't…” He tutted. A hand twirled her hair, before moving down her cheek.

“We have guests, dear. We don’t want to frighten them with your noise.” He contemplated her with mocking sympathy as silent tears ran down her face. He wiped them away with his thumb, though his other hand still held her in a painful grip. “Don’t cry dear, please don’t. Not yet. You haven’t even seen what I have in store for you.” He pulled her into a forced embrace, planting a cold kiss on her forehead. A hand traced down her neck and spine, before pulling away. She trembled but found herself unable to retaliate. She was frozen, and it was terrifying. “Come with me, up the tower.” It wasn’t a choice, he dragged her along beside him up the spiral staircase. The ringing burned her brain, her heart pounded in her ears. She couldn’t escape. She never would. Mark wasn’t here. It was always Dark.

When they reached the top, her heart plummeted in her chest. He let go of her, but he stood in the doorway, she couldn’t leave. In front of her, three alters were pinned to the wall. On the left was the Host, eyes covered by his bandages, desperate words leaving his mouth. He spluttered as the blood tears seeping down his face dripped onto his lips. Bloody spit dribbled down his chin as he waited there, unmoving, accepting defeat. Next to him was Dr. Iplier. At first, nothing seemed different as she watched the enraged doctor struggle vainly at his restraint. But then she saw it. His ears were mutilated and bloody. She clicked her fingers experimentally. He was deaf, in his frantic movements and curses he hadn’t even noticed them enter. Hadn’t heard the ringing. She stared at the last alter. Bim. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared at her desperately. He yelled out pleadingly, but no sound came. His mouth was bloodied. His tongue was gone.

Strong arms wrapped around her and she tensed up. She couldn’t think of what to do. She couldn’t think of how to save them. How to reassure them they’d be alright. The cold metal of gun touched her skin, the weight nearly causing her to drop it from her frail, shaking hands. Dark held it firmly, however, a low chuckle reaching her ears

“These three have been causing a lot of hassle. I tried to help them, Amy. Stop them seeing things they fear. Stop them hearing things that sadden them. Stop them saying things they might regret…” He sighed, adjusting her grip on the pistol. “They don’t understand that they’re disposable, and I wish to prove it. I’ll let you leave Miss Nelson, but you must choose who to dispose of.” He moved his hands, and Amy pulled away quickly. She couldn’t do this. Freedom wasn’t worth this. She turned to face Dark and pointed the gun at her head. For once, he looked stunned. Fearful even. The three alters struggled behind her. “Amy…”

The bang woke her.

For a moment, she thought she might’ve been dead until her surroundings caught up with her. She was in the guest room she’d come to call home, and for once, that was a relief. She’d been dreaming. Mark was still coming, and the alters were fine. Though that quickly led to Amy wondering if the dream actually meant anything.

Clearly, the bang had been knocking on the door, for Dr. Iplier poked his head into the room. His ears were still there, perfectly fine. No blood. The image of him screaming and struggling flashed through her mind. He gave a slight smile, though it faltered slightly as he examined her. He stepped into the room quietly.

“Well, at least it looks like you got some sleep.” She nodded, her hand wiping at her face. Tears. It’s not like she could hide her distress from him anyway. He regarded her sadly, before gesturing towards the bathroom. “Feel free to get changed into something more presentable than your pajamas. I’ll explain everything when you’re done.” He placed a laptop, which she had originally assumed to be his clipboard, onto the coffee table, seating himself on one of the available chairs. She pulled herself out of bed, calming her heart rate. She took a second glance at the doctor’s ears, just to confirm they were still there. He seemed to note her concern but didn’t comment. Her gaze skimmed the doorway, and she jolted back when she noticed the figure standing there. She relaxed as she realized it was just Oliver, and the robot offered a pleasant smile. Of course, he was always smiling, as it was a design choice to make him more approachable. In reality, the fact he was almost always smiling regardless of the situation was just unnerving. She offered him a weak nod, before moving to the walk-in closet filled with the findings of her shopping trip with Bim. Thinking of him immediately soured her already dull mood, the memories from the vivid nightmare making it worse. She pushed the thoughts aside, examining her clothing options. She had been disturbed previously by the realization that some of the clothes had been disappearing, normally the used ones. She’d assumed that one of the Google’s had taken them during the night for washing, which was already vaguely unsettling, yet none of them had come back. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but that was of little concern now. It wasn’t like she was going to be around much longer. Amy grabbed a simple outfit, a loose sweater, and shorts, realizing she would probably have to run through the woods again anyways. This wasn’t a fashion show, it was an escape attempt.

Amy changed in the bathroom, not bothering with anything fancy. She tied back her hair to keep it out of the way, noting that it would need to be re-dyed once she got out. As she sat in the chair opposite the doctor, she examined his handiwork. A laptop had been set up, along with a pair of earphones. She noted with a slight smirk the Chrome branding on the laptop, she doubted anything in this household wasn’t owned by Google. Dr. Iplier was currently standing over Oliver. The robot had powered down, she could tell by his dimmed shirt logo and eyes, and a small panel had been opened on the back of their neck. Dr. Iplier noticed his audience with a slight grin.

“I’m generally not the technological genius, but I don’t think it’s safe to ask for the other Google’s help with this. I think Dark has them wrapped around his finger.” She noted how tentatively he spoke Dark’s name, and he was still clearly listening out for ringing, as he asked her to keep quiet. She had to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t deaf. That the content of her nightmare wasn’t a reality. That Dark hadn’t done any of those things. That she hadn’t shot herself. She shook herself out of her thoughts, continuing to watch Dr. Iplier’s work. He had plugged what appeared to be a USB into Oliver’s neck and was now waiting for the little holographic progress bar to finish loading. When it was done, he selected a few options, and the display disappeared. He removed the USB and closed the panel on Oliver’s neck, causing the robots head to return to neutral position, staring blankly at the wall. A faint whirring could be heard. “He’ll be back online in a moment, we’re just lucky he’s willing to help us. Not as corrupt as the others. Not yet anyway.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than her. He inserted the USB into the computer, staring intently at the screen.

“Can I ask what this is? Mark’s here in an hour, right? I thought I was escaping not hacking into the Matrix.” She gestured expectantly at the weird set up, and Dr. Iplier laughed. She couldn’t help but feel grateful for the response, just confirming in her tired mind that he really wasn’t deaf.

“This is important, Miss Nelson, don’t you worry! I can’t have you sitting down here fretting that something’s gone wrong, so Oliver here has volunteered to be your eyes and ears!” He spun the laptop to face her, enlarging a tab that showed a black screen.

“Wow. Innovative.” She snorted, eyeing the blank screen sceptically. Dr. Iplier rolled his eyes.

“It’s not on yet! Wait till Oliver powers up again!” A few moments passed before the G on Oliver’s shirt lit up. The black screen flickered to a perfect image of the wall. Amy immediately realized it was video footage from the robot’s perspective. “See, now you can watch everything like a live-stream! It was Oliver’s suggestion. Your eyes and ears!” Pride was evident in his tone as he wiggled the earbuds at Amy, before tossing them onto the table in front of her, letting them clatter against the glass surface. Oliver turned to face her, and she looked at her image on the laptop, impressed.

“I hope it is sufficient, Amy.” The robot stated. She nodded, smiling.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Oliver.” Dr. Iplier suddenly furrowed his brow.

“Oliver, what’s the time?” Amy noted that technically he didn’t force them to answer, as by not using the phrase ‘Okay Google.’ She wondered if Dark used it. Or if he ever really needed to.

“It is currently 8:48.” The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Right, well we best be on our way. I want to be there to greet Mark first. Oh, wait! One more thing!” He handed Amy a phone, which she immediately recognized to be her own. “It doesn’t have a connection and please don’t try to use data. The other’s might be able to trace it back to you. Wait till you get out of here before turning it on!” She nodded, pocketing it.

“Thank you, Doc, I swear I’ll come back for you guys.” He smiled shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t recommend that Miss Nelson, but thank you for trying.” She couldn’t help herself, she rushed over and hugged him. Sure, in a way, he was one of her kidnappers, but he’d been nothing but kind. He’d done nothing but try to free her. Dr. Iplier seemed stunned too, but he still returned it. He regarded her warmly. “Keep yourself safe, Amy.” She gave Oliver a slight hug too, though it was a bit strange. He was mechanical, and feeling something that appeared to be a human vibrate and whirr was vaguely unnerving. A smile graced her lips. Mark wouldn’t like the Googles, they were too much like the living mannequins he feared so much. She pulled away, and the pair left. Amy was left staring at the computer screen, the clock slowly ticking to 9 am.

As she waited, her thoughts immediately went to the other alters. She wouldn’t get to say goodbye to them like she had with Dr. Iplier. Her mind immediately went to Bim, and guilt settled in. She’d caused him so much damage. Partially, it was his reckless behavior due to his apparent fascination with her. But no one deserves to be treated so horribly, and no one deserved to be convinced to hate themselves. In a way, she had been no better than Dark. In the beginning, her relationship with Bim had been an escape plan. She’d been manipulating him. She wondered if it counted as Stockholm Syndrome that she liked him now, even if it was platonic. Though, she doubted it was platonic on his end.

As it grew even closer to 9, Amy plugged in her earbuds and waited, feeling the tension crackling through the air. She watched through Oliver’s eyes the mansion entrance. A few minutes late, someone knocked on the door, and Oliver opened it. Amy’s heart fluttered in her chest. There, awkwardly, stood Mark, wearing a simple white t-shirt and pants. Somehow, despite being surrounded by clones of him for a week, he was somehow just Mark. The real one. She wished there was some way to tell him that she was there as he eyed the robot suspiciously. It was weird, watching him make eye contact with her knowing that he wasn’t actually seeing her. She saw Oliver’s hand gesture him inside, and Mark shuffled through the doorway, eyeing the entrance hallway with slight awe. Dr. Iplier made his way down to Mark, smiling. He extended out a hand, which he politely shook. Amy heard their words through her earbuds as if she was actually there. It seemed the Google’s ears included binaural audio.

“Mark! A pleasure to finally meet in person!” Mark nodded, offering a smile.

“Same to you, I assume you’re Dr. Iplier?” The doctor seemed to notice Mark’s slightly worried expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m quite sure I’m not like what you remember.” Mark looked around again, eyes flicking back to Oliver. Amy was quite right in her assumption that he’d be unnerved by the robot, though he seemed disturbed in general by the clones of himself, which was logical. His gaze flicked down to the hallway, and Amy knew who he was waiting for. Mark cleared his throat.

“It’s, uh, a nice place you got here.” The doctor smiled, but it seemed forced.

“Look, Mark. I need to get to the point. Can you follow…” He trailed off as he heard footsteps down the hall. Amy stiffened. Dark made his way down the stairs, a slight smirk gracing his lips. Mark took an involuntary step back.

“Ah, doctor. I’m glad you’ve already greeted our guest.” His voice echoed on different planes, the ringing and creaking painful in her ears. He turned to face Mark, his entire figure twitching and screaming before quickly regaining its composure. An attempt to hide his rage at his counterpart. “Mr. Fischbach, my apologies. It seems there was an issue with the scheduling.” The wrath that fuelled those words made Amy flinch, along with the doctor. “The other egos aren’t prepared for your arrival. However, fret not. I can still give the tour. We just might need to reschedule to introductions to a later date.” Mark nodded slowly.

“Of course.” He managed, though the prospect of spending time with Dark, possibly alone, seemed to frighten him. Dark offered a smile that looked more like a grimace, straightening his suit.

“Excellent.” He gestured to a chair in the corner of the entrance hall. “Could you wait there a moment? I need to speak with Dr. Iplier. Oliver, could you be so kind as to join me too?” The doctor flinched, eyes widening. It wasn’t up for debate. Sensing the tension, Mark quickly moved to sit, eyeing the alters carefully. Dark spun on his heel and strode down the left hall that came off the entrance, Dr. Iplier and Oliver following stiffly. He passed the entrance the garage on the right wing, instead continuing to the end of the hall and pushing through some double doors. The room would’ve been gorgeous if it wasn’t for Amy’s fear of Dark’s presence. The wall opposite the door was coated in windows, causing the room to be lit entirely by natural light. Dark didn’t offer them to sit as he closed the doors behind them with a shuddering thud. He turned to face them, shell cracking and spluttering with curses and screams before he suddenly calmed. The contrast sent shivers down Amy’s spine.

“Do you think I’m an idiot, doctor?” He finally spoke, his echoing voice laced with malice. Amy wasn’t even in the room, yet she pulled away in fear.

“No, sir.” He managed in response.

“Really? It sure doesn’t seem like it. You seriously believed I wouldn’t notice an email I never sent with schedule changes? Or that I didn’t hear your conversation with Miss Nelson yesterday?” Dark pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “We can discuss this later, Iplier. We have a guest waiting. And Miss Nelson? I know you can hear me.” Dark’s eyes met hers through the laptop screen. “I don’t blame you for this little, incident, and you are free to watch the whole thing. However, if you so much as make a whimper while Mark is near your room, I’ll elicit you and your dear boyfriend to a punishment you can’t even fathom in your worst nightmares. Do you understand me?” The way his voice was as calm as ever caused her innards to squirm, her blood running cold. The wrath of a being older than time seeped through his façade. “Alright. Now, let’s get back to the tour.”

As they neared the entrance, Mark was nowhere to be found. Dark looked as if he might destroy the entire dimension they stood within when an angry voice declared itself. Dark led the way up the entrance of the library, where Mark stood, hands help up placating.

“The Host states again that does not wish to talk to Mr. Fischbach and firmly requests that Mark leaves his library. If Mark were to disobey the Host, he might find himself suffering tortures well deserved for his ignorance.” The voice was laced with venom, and Mark quickly backed away. He collided with Dark, causing him to leap forward, before scrambling out of the library once more. Amy watched as he glanced back into the library, guilt evident in his eyes. Amy knew that the Host didn’t enjoy company to begin with, and he had already displayed his hatred for Mark previously. He blamed Mark for everything that had happened to him, and in a way, he wasn’t wrong. Mark seemed to realize this fact, he may have even tried to apologize, clearly to little avail. Amy stared at the screen, just able to catch the Host in Oliver’s vision. Her heart plummeted. She could see the blood dripping down his face, the way their body shuddered with frantic breaths. The doctor noted this immediately and stepped into the library.

“Stop.” Came the response, a voice that could kill, and the doctor froze in place. “Didn’t you hear me? I said get out.” Dark shook his head, seemingly disappointed.

“My apologies, Mark. It seems the Host is unwilling to talk with us today. Like I said, we need to reschedule the introductions. Come, all of you, it’s time for the tour.”

It was the same as what Amy had experienced a few days prior. However, this time, Dark seemed almost nice, leading both Mark and Amy alike to be suspicious. He never brought up Amy as the bargaining chip or asked for the use of Mark’s channel, which only unnerved Amy greater. He was waiting for something, and that scared her. He had motives he hadn’t expressed with her, and Amy was really starting to realize that she was disposable. She had sat with hands covering her mouth as the tour passed her room, taking all her self-control not to scream out to Mark. Throughout the tour, no other alters were found. Bim didn’t show himself, which worried Amy considerably. She assumed he was in his room, and trusted the doctor to have kept him safe. But Bim was always one to show himself, he’d wanted to meet Mark. What had changed?

Amy knew the answer to that, but she wanted to forget what had happened to Bim.

When it came time for Mark to leave, she could see the suspicion in his eyes. He suspected she was here, and that offered more worry to Amy than relief. This is what Dark wanted. To bait Mark. To lure him into thinking he was in control when in reality he was being carefully toyed with. As Mark left, ready to schedule another meeting, Amy wanted to vomit. As Dark turned to Dr. Iplier, murder in his eyes.

“Meet me in the sitting room, now.” Amy shut down the laptop, hands clenching, eyes watering.

How had she convinced herself it was over? That she would escape?

It always gets worse before it gets better.

But she had an idea, it seemed pointless, dangerous even, but maybe she would get something from it. She knew where the sitting room was, it was the room outside of Dark’s bedroom.

She was going to eavesdrop on Dark’s punishment.

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#taking back control #part 11 #amy nelson #markiplier #markiplier alter egos #darkiplier #dr iplier #googleplier #google oliver #the host #bim trimmer

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athyrabunlord · 7 years

Text

Pride & Envy

A/N: This came out of nowhere ╮(￣ω￣;)╭ I had so many other things to write/draw too... Before i knew it, I wrote two bliplets. Stopped myself and upload it before my brain continued lmao Rated for violence and NSFW scene I suppose. Writing exercise, Yakuza AU. POV effect is important. Words: 2,159 Ships: DiaRiko & YouMari, but with DiaMari content

Lone amber eye peered from underneath the shades of the umber fedora, gleaming hawkishly at the squirming prey. The underling’s breathing came out in shuddering pants, but terror kept him in the seiza position before his superior.

The commanding tap of the cane jolted the sweating youth into action, as he scrambled onto his feet.

Silence then persisted in the room, renewing another bout of tremors from the poor boy. Still, he did not dare to move a single inch or raise his head as the burgundy-haired woman continued to judge him.

A sharp clang rang loudly at last, as the boy’s verdict was delivered in the form of a small tantou delivered across the table. Eyes widening, he tried to keep down his hitched gasp as his unsteady hand reached out to grasp the silver blade. Gulping, he slowly placed his other hand onto the mahogany table and trained his dilated pupils on his pinkie. His breathing became heavy again, the flighty nature of his mind inevitably kicking in at his grisly predicament.

There was neither fight nor flight in his options, he knew it well, and his spectators knew it well too.

Sakurauchi Riko stared coldly at the wild-haired youth, and tapped her rosewood cane on the ground once more. The jittery boy cringed and almost dropped the tantou, but gritted his teeth in both defiance and to minimize the whimpers that sneaked out of his bloodless lips. Narrowing his eyes, the lackey stabbed downwards in one last burst of courage.

Even then, his screams of agony could not be dampened, not by the slick crimson that poured out of his severed digit.

As he cradled his bleeding hand against his chest, the one-eyed woman spoke flatly. “Take him.”

The only other occupant in the room, an older man who was responsible for the youth, hurriedly pulled the latter out of her sight. He, too, was held accountable for the boy’s blunder earlier the day, but the bandage swathed around his hand did not excuse his presence from this affair.

Riko’s expression remained placid even as the young underling’s muffled whimpers were out of range. The boy was only a few years younger than herself, yet that did not grant him any special treatment. Such was life after all, where one lived by the rules that was imposed by the environment. This was the Kurosawagumi; either you were part of the yakuza or you were not.

Either you belonged to something, or you were alone in this unfair world.

Almost mechanically, she used the tip of her cane to swipe the severed digit off the table, for there was no place for such litter anymore. The deed was done, the crime was pardoned, and the world moved on.

“How terribly unsightly,” a purring voice coiled around her neck and reeled her blank amber eye towards a pair of glacial chartreuse.

“Not as deplorable as you.”

Ohara Mari buffed her manicured nails against the murky hue of her dress. “Oh please, you praise me too much.”

Riko did not hide the disgust in her stare as she walked brusquely towards the exit. That woman was poison, and she refused to be in the presence of such filth any longer. The world was defiled enough already.

“Wait, you have something on your face.” Mari side-stepped ever so slightly before she could walk past the other. Riko remained rigid as the taller blonde lightly brushed away her long bangs with a finger. Instinct would have her take a comfortable distance away, but pride prevented her from backing down from this woman.

Her head tilted, Mari then raised her fingertip to Riko’s line of vision, revealing a dark stain on the alabaster white skin. “Splattered onto your blind spot… hard to avoid, no?”

The underlying threat had the one-eyed woman’s blood boil. The audacity of this bitch. Yet the anger was quick as it came, and her deathly grip loosened around the cane. The hidden blade slid soundlessly back into its sheath, its fang never bared.

Riko smiled coolly. “Thank you for your help, Mari-san. It’s rather chilly today, so I would suggest that you wear a coat or scarf to cover your neck, ne?”

The wavy-haired American-Italian let out a quiet, breathy laughter. “Dia prefers it when I don’t, but grazie for your kind advice.”

The jab did not reach the proud amber of her lone iris. “The pleasure is mine.”

====================================================

“You may do whatever you wish, mi avete capito?”

A twittering laughter blended in with the soft cries of the violin that reverberated in the grand office. The blonde’s rich and crooning voice interlaced through the melody, dipping its enchantment into every corner and crevice of this enclosed space.

However, the inexorable heat in those emerald eyes continued to blaze, untamed by the music’s spell as they trailed over the woman’s creamy white skin.

Branded by such scorching gaze, Ohara Mari giggled quietly and stepped away from the stereo. The dreamy pace of the violin propelled her towards the unmoving figure leaning against the window, her pace unhurried yet purposeful. The loud clicks of her heels seemed to muffle the innocent violin, each and every single one of her deliberate step.

“You are the boss.”

Kurosawa Dia only tilted her head, which allowed sparse moonlight to filter through the blinds and light up a faint circle in front of her. Emerald eyes were predatory now as they locked gazes with the blonde, demanding her submission. The black-haired woman’s long ponytail was draped over her exposed shoulder, its dark curtain barely concealing the myriad of tattoos that stretched over her skin. Her right arm rested in the yukata’s open seam, seemingly casual in manner, yet this soft fabric did nothing to lessen the severe aura she exuded.

It was as if a deadly beast was barely caged by such flimsy clothes.

Mari licked her lips in appreciation, for she had always preferred the yakuza boss in her traditional outfit, rather than the pristine western suit she tended to wear in public. This was their headquarters after all, and this was the leader’s room.

The beast’s lair.

The blonde obediently walked into the small circle of light, but her steps remained bold as her heels continued to clack cacophonously against the violin’s trembling cry. Now a pace away from the master of the room, Mari languidly reached up for the grisly scar underneath Dia’s left eye. Her advance was stopped by a firm grip on her wrist, the force not strong enough to cause pain but unyielding enough to snare her attention.

Dia’s voice was flat. “Why are you here?”

Why she was here in the boss’s office, why she formed alliance with the Kurosawagumi, why she even come to Japan at all.

“Why do you let me?” Mari’s lips curved in amusement, but her voice was just as monotonous and her chartreuse eyes hardened in pride.

Dia’s perpetual placid expression softened so fleetingly that the American-Italian woman thought she had imagined it. A sharp tug had her leaning against the black-haired oyabun as the latter wrapped her arm around Mari’s waist.

“Kirei na kimidori…”

Though fluent in Japanese, the blonde felt goosebumps as each syllable of the foreign language brushed hotly against her neck like an alluring spell.

“You think my eyes are pretty?” Mari grasped the ponytailed woman’s hairtie, tugging it loose the same time Dia pulled the white coat off her shoulders.

There was no reply in words. The blonde was slammed against the wall as calloused hands hiked up her dress, hot skin against cold rings. The two intertwined silhouettes melted away from the small circle of light and conversed heatedly through feverish movements.

Speaking was no longer a necessity, not in such tryst.

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

Panting quietly, Mari gazed at Dia through half-lidded eyes as the latter hovered above her. Loose ebony strands trickled onto the blonde’s reddened skin, tickling the bite marks that covered her shoulders. The black-haired woman was still expressionless, yet her whisper was lukewarm against her cheek.

“You are here now.”

Their lips had not met, not even once, when their bodies joined in fervent madness. However, Mari recoiled at the unfamiliar sensation of tenderness rushing through her chest at such a simple line. A part of her understood exactly what those ambiguous words meant, and had sought after them almost desperately. Disgusted and terrified, she hid the tremor in her tone as she sat up elegantly and pulled on the straps of her dress.

“Yes I’m here… aren’t I?”

Dia watched her silently, contemplatively as she shrugged on her yukata as well. She did not re-tie her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back. She gingerly brushed a few sweaty strands of the blonde’s eyes before turning away and left the office in distinct strides.

Mari’s tense body eased a little after the door clicked shut. She remained seated on the desk and glanced coolly at the stationary and paperworks littered all over the floor, feeling disconnected from reality. Her thoughts were everywhere and nowhere, and she couldn’t help but laugh quietly at her pitiful state.

She initiated this game but she had lost miserably. She idly touched the hickies marking her skin, shivering in delight upon recalling the slick pleasure the kumichou had given her, yet she felt emptier than ever. It was an unexpected turn of events and Mari despised nothing more than relinquishing control, no matter how briefly.

A respectful knock on the door broke her out of her reverie, making her realize that the stereo was playing the same track as earlier. It seemed that she was so lost inside that the CD had looped itself, entrapping its sole audience within.

She almost found herself appreciating the beautiful music. Almost.

Shaking her head, she ensured that her appearance was presentable before opening the door. There was no need to check, for only one person would ever be so patient and polite.

“M-Mari-chan,” Watanabe You blinked in surprise and took a step back nervously.

“Dia is not here, cucciola,” the blonde said liltingly, grinning when the short-haired woman scratched her head agitatedly at the nickname. They were inside their headquarters after all, so it was her right to enjoy her assigned assistant’s flustering. It wasn’t her fault that You really was like a puppy dog. A really tough puppy, nevertheless still a puppy.

Nodding stiffly, You shoved her hands in her pockets and started to walk away, only to tense again when Mari followed after her. The blonde tried not to smile when she deliberately slowed down so their paces matched. The small yet kind gesture caused the blonde to wonder for the umpteenth time, what a pure soul like You was doing here, wading through blood and clawing through filth like the rest of them.

“I was just passing a message,” You mumbled, “Riko-chan… I mean, wakagashira is looking for oyabun.”

She trailed off and stopped in the middle of the hallway, her expression scrunched in mixed emotion. Mari followed her uncomfortable gaze and saw two silhouettes up ahead, just at the corner, sharing a chaste kiss.

A soft smile adorned Dia’s austere visage, which appeared to have melted the menacing chill in Riko’s lone amber eye. It was such a simple, brief gesture, yet its intimacy appeared so vibrant that the blonde felt like a voyeur for witnessing such a private scene.

The two did not need to hold hands, and their arms did not even brush against one another as they walked side by side. Unhurried, they disappeared behind the corner and must have headed for their compound’s garden. The oyabun and wakagashira often enjoyed long walks around their extensive pond, where prized koi fish swam gracefully within the tranquil water.

You broke the silence with an awkward cough. “At least they didn’t see us… I hope.”

Normally Mari would be curious about You’s reaction towards Riko, but right now her thoughts were on a completely different matter.

“You, kiss me.”

Blue eyes widened rather ridiculously. “Huh? What did you just-”

The blonde grasped the stunned woman’s tie and pulled her into a deep kiss. However, her lips and tongue were unable to replicate the staggering intimacy she had just witnessed moments prior.

They broke away after Mari deemed it enough. Both gasping for breaths, the two exchanged looks, one bewildered and one thoughtful. “What was that for?”

Her flushed cheeks and embarrassed expression empowered the blonde, for she smiled cruelly and tilted the former’s chin with her finger. “You are a good kisser, You. I will remember that.”

Mari turned away from the stammering woman, casting her envy behind as her strides regained confidence and purpose once more. She was in one of the many cities in Japan, within the Kurosawagumi’s compound, residing in their headquarters along with many brothers and sisters.

It seemed that she has much to learn in her new home, her new family.

#athyra writes #totally out of nowhere blip (bliplets)#Yakuza-MafiaAU #diamari #diariko #youmari #didn't get to the chikanan scene XD;#but lmao omfg I actually wrote diamari #I tried DX #I'm still fundamentally 3rdYears garbage #gotta open myself to more possibilities #this is what happens when you try to work on two AUs #you create a new one... Orz #but I enjoyed this lil' exercise #may be typos #random Italian words here and there DX #just things I thought shiny would say #yeah Riko and Mari don't get along lawl #that's an understatement

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