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dappledpaintbrush · 7 months

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Lament AU Masterpost (I’m using that word wrong)

FIND OUT WHY IM YAPPING ALL THE TIME IN ONE SINGLE CLICK👇👇👇 AND YOU DONT HAVE TO READ 200,000 WORDS TO FIGURE IT OUT 🙏🙏🙏 (but if you do I’d sacrifice myself for you if needed)

ALSO I MADE CHANGES TO THE STORY (nobody gaf)

ALSO I ADDED THE POST-EPILOGUE ENDING OF AJL😈😈😈 kind of. Because it’s up to you as the reader if you want the remainder of the Lament AU to be canon to the story you read in A Jester’s Lament, despite AJL being the Lament AU (nobody gaf) (I’ll explain it in the post)

THIS POST WILL INEVITABLY BE EDITED‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️I AM OFF MY MEDICATION‼️‼️‼️

What is the Lament AU and why do you post so much about it?

Idk

No really

Okay wise guy, since you’re so insistent

The Lament AU is basically another Dimentio gets redeemed story. It started off in the form of an ao3 fanfic called A Jester’s Lament (AJL) that SOMEHOW gained so much love that I am still tweaking about it to this day. No seriously I owe my life to all of you. Im not joking. Email me for business inquires (sacrificial rituals). First come first serve btw

HOWEVER. While AJL is very VERY important to me and I’ll cherish it for all of time, it is a taaaaad bit outdated. While the fanfic itself is not changing, the story I established in AJL does have some minor adjustments now. Basically, think of AJL like a first edition of the Lament AU and this tumblr post is the second edition of the Lament AU LMAO

I’ll list specific changes for those who are interested (no one), but after that, I’ll give a summary of the Lament AU for those who don’t wanna read a 41 chapter Mario fanfic.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR A JESTER’S LAMENT!

What Changed in the Lament AU since AJL:

1. Dimentio’s Initial Betrayal/Count Bleck’s Plan

Having conspired the plan before he was integrated into Team Bleck, Dimentio planned on betraying them all so he could use the entirety of the Dark Prognosticus + Chaos Heart’s magic for himself so he could create his own perfect world with the utmost power and magic available. However, as he befriended the others, this plan would change. Dimentio decided to not only spare Mimi and O’Chunks, but create their own worlds as well and risk the grandeur of his own world (this is not some kind of heroic sacrifice, trust me). AJL states that Count Bleck had lied to the minions and was never planning on giving them their new worlds. This is no longer canon. In the current Lament AU, Count Bleck was going to give them their worlds as he had promised (although, he planned to commit suicide by letting the Void take him, something no one knew). Despite his seemingly decent relationship with Count Bleck and Nastasia, Dimentio never planned on sparing them. While this is true in AJL, his motivations are different. In AJL, he did not plan on sparing Bleck and Nastasia for he believed them to be a traitors (he was aware of Bleck’s real plan and Nastasia’s knowledge of it). This motivation is no longer canon. In the current Lament AU, Dimentio, in his cruel greed, still desired the extra magic to create his perfect new world. He knew that if he spared the Count (and ultimately Nastasia, since her ideal world was to be WITH the Count wherever he went), his original blueprint for his horrifying utopia would be ruined.

AJL also states that Dimentio decided to spare Count Bleck and Tippi because they reminded him of his parents. This is no longer canon. In the current Lament AU, Dimentio brought the pair to Dimension D to murder Bleck himself as revenge for what Dimentio perceived to be pathetic cowardice from forfeiting the plan to end all worlds (and murder Timpani as further revenge upon Bleck). Why he brought Nastasia, that is now as vague as it was in the game.

2. Jaydes’ Judgement

Jaydes commanded Dimentio to be brought back/to return to the Underwhere in order for balance to be restored to the system of Life and Death, which King Boo had disrupted when he had revived Dimentio. She gave Dimentio an ultimatum: Return now and live a neutral afterlife (the best he could get) in the Underwhere, or remain on the mortal plane, and be forever condemned to his cell in Bonechill’s Prison as a result. Dimentio would not return, and remain with the others in order to try to fix the harm he had caused. In AJL, this rule/curse was lifted after the Pure Hearts revived Dimentio after the explosion because, “She [Jaydes] claimed along the lines of the Pure Hearts never healing evil, which erased the gray line that made Dimentio undeserving of both his cell and the Overthere, and, in turn, apparently making her feel more guilty about her pronounced curse.” This is no longer canon. Not only is Dimentio never seeing the Overthere, but they never find out if Jaydes changed her mind. As far as they know, after the events of the war, Dimentio is still damned to his cell for all eternity when he dies as punishment for disobeying Jaydes, a belief that would continue for the rest of their lives.

ERMMM WHAT THE FISH!! I think that’s it for plot changes. If I think of anymore of course I’ll add it :3

NOW. Here’s what that fucking thing is all about.

Lament AU’s Story (summarized version) (SPOILERS FOR AJL) (OBVIOUSLY):

King Boo is pretty sick of Luigi’s shit. He wants this guy DEAD. One day, he hears of some gay guy that came pretty damn close to prevailing against Mario and Co., so he travels to Bonechill’s Prison and gets this gay guy to agree to join him. Using his Dead Ghost King Powers, King Boo revives Dimentio’s soul and grants him a new physical body as a result. This resurrection spell has some setbacks, though. For one, it takes many months to fully complete. Until then, the revived soul must rely on Life Magic (same shit from a Life Shroom basically) given from the reviver in order to stay alive. This means that until the spell is complete and Dimentio can survive without King Boo’s life support, any kind of spell that Dimentio casts will ultimately drain his Life Magic fuel because that is all the magic he has in his body at ALL (it is automatically taken upon entry to the Underwhere). Basically, Dimentio is more dangerous than he was in the games for he is no longer holding himself back in battle, buuuuut… sometimes he will pass out and King Boo has to perform CPR mid-fight. Ridiculousness ensues.

ANYWAYS, Dimentio’s deal with King Boo is that he kills Luigi, and King Boo will craft Dimentio his perfect new world (albeit maybe not precisely how Dimentio planned) using a hybrid spell. The rest of it is typical Luigi and Co. VS Dimentio and King Boo (oh yeah, Steward too). But Dimentio is having EMOTIONAL ISSUES. Ohhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Long story short, he is in complete denial that his new world is practically worthless without his friends. He is also forced to partner up with Luigi when the two accidentally end up in the Pit of 100 Trials. We also get some backstory (TLDR: Dimentio actually had an overall healthy and loving family growing up, but those who attempted to kill him and killed his mother sent him to wander dimensions forever, and he could not return home due to memory loss that lasted for a few thousand years. Skill issue LMAO get ratioed dumb fuck).

Anyways, that time in the Pit of 100 Trials planted a seed of “hey, this guy kinda has some swagger” in both Dimentio and Luigi. But it is only through more battles and through Luigi and Co. nursing Dimentio back to health (after Luigi tried to kill him with the Thunderhand LMAO get fucked gayass clown) that this seed grows. Eventually, Dimentio spares Luigi in a fight, and King Boo finds out about this. He’s like “man this guy SUCKS!!!” He drains Dimentio’s life magic, kills him, and puts his soul under mind control like he (King Boo) did with the ghosts in LM3. This is where Jinxed Dimentio comes from. Controlled by King Boo, Dimentio kills Steward and Luigi, who is revived by a Life Shroom. Luigi has a EUREKA 💡moment and uses another Life Shroom to try to revive Dimentio, which actually works.

Now Dimentio is kind of in a pickle 🤓☝️ The Life Shroom made it to where Dimentio was free from King Boo’s terms and conditions, meaning King Boo can’t go around taking his Life Magic away anymore. HOWEVER, the initial revival spell is not complete, so every spell Dimentio casts will still drain his Life Magic and kill him if he isn’t careful. In fact, the only Life Magic he has left comes from the Life Shroom, so for a while he can’t cast spells at ALL.

But anyways. Dimentio is now on the good side blah blah blah working to make amends whatever. But Queen Jaydes is like “HEY Luigi. Come here rq 🙏 since uh. You didn’t kill this guy and now he’s on your side. Uh. I gotta tell you he’s fucking shit up. Like the balance of life and death has been disrupted since he’s alive when he’s supposed to be six feet under. So bring him to me okay okay stop crying and pissing yourself. Tell Dimentio to return to the Underwhere. If he does uhhh. He can have a neutral afterlife with the Shaydees and not get punished. But if he doesn’t come back, he’ll return to his cell for all eternity.” Dimentio decides to stay despite this threat to try to right his wrongs and end the war he helped start.

Anyways Dimentio ends up using some of his Life Magic to put his sister (Shadoo) out of her misery, which leaves him weak as hell for the Final Battle which happens like 5 seconds later. Mf is practically on a ventilator and being rolled around on a hospital cot for the entire damn fight. That is, until he remembers he casted a Permanent Spell a while back to make his bed he had in King Boo’s fortress float off the ground (okay princess), so he absorbs that magic and is now balling (kinda). He uses a clone to trick and lead his friends away from the fortress, then confronts King Boo and uses a box-explosion so powerful it breaks the box and kills Dimentio in the process. The others find out, gooogoo gaga, womp womp. King Boo is somehow still alive. He’s about to kill everyone when some my little pony shit happens and the Pure Hearts return, imprisoning King Boo who fucking knows where and resurrecting Dimentio and, thus, finally fully completing the revival spell.

Blah blah blah happy ending, Dimentio knows he still has a long way to go to make amends, he works as a babysitter for the Koopalings now, he lives in Flopside, everyone goes on a fun and goofy Odyssey trip, yeah he’s going to hell for disobeying the goddess of death and judgement but let’s try not to think about that,

THE END

So.. erm… what happens after?

I’m so glad you definitely asked that question

So like I said- while AJL IS the Lament AU, it can also be considered its own “version” of the Lament AU because it is a fanfic with a clear ending- that being the Odyssey trip. Anything that happens after has been left up to reader interpretation for a while now. Because of this- it is completely up to you if you want the rest of the Lament AU to be canon to the A Jester’s Lament fanfic or not. Even though it’s the same AU blah blah blah blah blah. You want AJL-Lament AU Dimentio to live a very long peaceful happy time? HIP HIP HOORAY!! :D But. Lament AU Dimentio. Uh.

For a few years uh. Nothing. AJL ends on the Odyssey trip, and life continues as normal (+ expensive therapy) with our main protagonists becoming closer friends.

HOWEVER. Yk how Dimentio is like “Who knows? Maybe I have a few more centuries of life yet” at the end of the fic? (LOUD INCORRECT FAMILY FEUD BUZZER). Lament AU/AJL Dimentio only lives for about six more years post-war.

But user dappledpaintbrush, why? Why would you make him go through allat just to die six fucking years later? Seems overkill

Silence, young grasshopper

Okay I’m only kidding but like. Man. Come on. No matter how many good deeds I make this bastard do, no matter how many times I let him get bitch slapped around by the Consequences of His Own Actions (trademark pending), there is no expunging this unholy track record:

Also because. Get it. Six years is. How long he was away from his friends in the Underwhere/with King Boo. Get it. Pretend I’m a good writer with good parallels

But before he died, Dimentio ultimately decided that when he DID die, he was going to drown his soul in the River Twigz. Not because he was damned to his cell, but because he believed he had lived long enough to know he didn’t want to live forever, regardless of what his aftergame looked like. He told the others about this, and Luigi asked him if he [Dimentio] could wait to see him [Luigi] again first. This was asked under the assumption that Dimentio would die centuries after everyone else, and that there would be no “wait time” to see Luigi and the others again and thus, no risk of getting caught by Jaydes and sent to Bonechill’s Prison before Dimentio had the chance to end his aftergame. But yeah then Dimentio kicks the bucket from Ancient Death (basically: DAMN! YOURE WAYY TOO OLD LMAOOO. DIE INSTANTLY!). HOWEVERRRR, Dimentio said fuck it we ball and asked Jaydes if his punishment could be postponed so he could fulfill his promise to Luigi. This is when we finally get a resolution to the judgement subplot- she changes her mind about punishing him WOOHOO🔥🔥🔥

Also the gang visits him sometimes. rarely. almost never. because Jaydes is like listen ik yall are the heroes of all realities but yall can’t just Do That. Mostly they’re like BITCH KING BOO IS AT IT AGAIN😐😐 and Dimentio starts tweaking from the great beyond

But yeah uh. Dimentio still ends his aftergame when all is said and done. Sorry guys I just don’t see him willingly living forever. I think that desire died with his perfect world. Also I feel like it’s the final ultimate part of his redemption because he tried to eliminate every living thing from existence as well. Aldus enters the Underwhere (where he is now visible due to what is essentially Jaydes’ firewall) and ends his aftergame alongside his son, too. Father son bonding can I get an amen. Also, Merlova canonically died-died in the battle against the Skellobits. So yeah. The Dimentio lineage is completely eliminated by the ultimate end of the Lament AU. Thank GOD

I think that’s it. Idk how to end this

Thank you for reading this if you did at all :3 sincerely, yappledpaintbrush

#lament au #yappledpaintbrush #by April 2024 dimentio will have 4 more years left to live #rejoice

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greypetrel · 5 months

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WIP Wednesd-FRIDAY

Tagged by @shivunin, thank you very much, friend! :D

As every week before Christmas, I had clients waking up from their slumber, and stuff I can't show to finish. So, it's a little doodle I did today. Moby Dick!Aisling taking a nap on the armchair. Also! Some writing under the cut, same AU. :3

Tagging: @whimsyswastry @melisusthewee @morgandarcyarts @theluckywizard whom I didn't bother today and YOU who are reading and have something to show!

🐳🐳🐳🐳

Everything was all but fine.

She flopped on the gunnel, staring at the letter held between her fingers and reading the elegant cursive again.

And again.

Everything was all but fine, and all she wanted to do was going right back home, slip under the covers and cry.

But if what the letter said was true, she couldn’t allow herself to. She couldn’t afford to skip a day.

Right now, it was of the utmost importance that she got right back on her feet, allow Isabela to move on, and do her job, do it quickly, do it better. But her hands won’t stop trembling and her vision blurred.

“Do you need a moment?”

It was Cassandra to reach her, placing her hand on her shoulder and squeezing, tight enough for her to feel under all the layers she had on. Nantucket was that much colder than her home, and today she missed the heat of the Mediterranean. She blinked tears away, and took a deep breath. She did need a moment, and she did need Cassandra’s determination, seeing a problem and solving it.

She shook her head and forced her legs to stand, smiling at the crew around her every woman looking at her with different shades of worry she had learnt to read as such in the months they’ve been working together.

Cassandra’s worry looked like her acting and taking command to solve the problem. Isabela’s looked like her being attentive and careful to the person she was worried about, with a joke to cheer them up or an ear to listen. Merrill’s was in compassion and encouragement, Hawke’s in an easy joke and in her doing your job for you. Sera was in sticking up close and helping you before you realised you needed help, and Dagna would ask her if she wanted to speak. She loved them, and she was grateful that they were there with her.

But it wasn’t the moment to lean on them. Not when they all leant on her instead and she was about to let them all down.

She smiled and nodded, crunching the letter in her hands.

“Sorry, I was just tired. We can go, I’m ready.”

Nobody was convinced, but she insisted, and finally Isabela ordered for moors to be unleashed, and for the little sloop they had to be brought to sea.

That was easy. She just needed to do her job.

Easy.

When the best they spotted that day was a group of pilot whales that kept their distances and didn’t let them approach, it wasn’t that much easy.

She didn’t even take one dive, that day, and it weighted on her shoulders more and more, as the hours passed and the ocean remained empty. She pushed them all to stay extra hours. She loved them all because everyone understood, and the worst complaint she got was worry and people asking her if everything was all right, they could talk. She felt even worse, and just shook her head and pushed through, looking through her spyglass with more effort. Just one sighting. Just one.

Cullen would have gotten back home by himself. He would have understood, no doubt.

#wip wednesday #doodle #moby dick au #dragon age #greypetrel #SURPRISINGLY she isn't the favourite research project of the Royal Society #I wonder why I have no idea whatsoever #“WHALES ARE CUTE STOP HUNTING THEM”#it's such a promising title for an essay come on give her money!

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writercole · 2 years

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Sunrise, WY

Squares filled: [Redacted] @taylorswiftbingo (see ending) // Sunrise, WY @winchesterandbeyondbingo // Dean Smith @supernatural-jackles TMAS // Bartender AU @spnaubingo Words: 1176 Warnings: Twist ending, alcohol consumption A/N: Apparently Tumblr ate my post so...here you go again.

Sunrise, WY

July 1899

The carriage stopped in front of the train depot and the driver stepped down from his perch to open the door while the footman unloaded the luggage. A large, wide brimmed hat exited the cab first, followed by a gloved hand and finally a beautiful woman set foot on the dusty ground.

“This is Sunrise?” Y/N asked the driver, displeasure evident in her tone.

“Yes, ma’am. A bit dustier than you expected, isn’t it?” he replied with a shrug.

“That’s one way to put it, Garth.” She took two steps forward as her eyes inspected everything in sight. “And this barman, he’s in that tavern?”

“Yes ma’am. He warned about the customers in the back corner in his letter, but he did insist that you’d be safe if you stayed at the bar,” Garth explained as he pulled a letter from his waistcoat and handed it over.

“Thank you, Garth,” she acknowledged as she took the letter in her hands. “It’s been a pleasure. You too, Kevin,” she said as she bid them adieu, lifting her two suitcases and carrying them into the inn across the way, checking in and freshening up before going to meet the man that had sent for her.

Dean Smith was standing behind the bar wiping down glasses when the doors swung open. The entire room went silent, the band stopping mid-song and conversations halting instantly. His first thought was that the sheriff had stopped in again, until he looked up. He understood why immediately.

A beautiful woman stood in the doorway, commanding the attention of the entire room. She had obviously just arrived in town, her clothing bright and vibrant, lacking the usual layer of dust from the mines on the outside of town.

She approached the bar confidently, a slight sway in her hips, as if she were exaggerating the swing for the audience she knew she had. She slipped onto a stool at the corner and removed her gloves and hat, setting them on the seat next to her.

“What can I get yah, sweet cheeks?” Dean questioned as he leaned forward on the bartop.

“Dean Smith?” she asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“You sent for me.” She slid the letter she received across the wood towards him and glanced around the room, conversations and music all resumed as soon as she sat down.

Dean picked up the envelope and scanned the contents, recognizing his own handwriting staring back at him. He folded it up again and returned it to her. “My apologies. When I didn’t get a response, I assumed that was my answer.”

“Generally, that would be accurate. But it seemed that this was of the utmost importance, so I came straight away.” Pocketing the letter once again, she scanned the tavern, finding that most of the patrons were eyeing her curiously, despite their conversations. “Could we talk somewhere a little more…private?” she suggested as she turned her attention back to the barman.

Dean nodded and looked over his shoulder, a shrill whistle echoing through the bar. “Benny, I’m stepping out for a bit.”

August 1899

Y/N walked into the tavern on the arm of the new sheriff, a giant of a man named Sam Wesson. She was giggling at something he said, her head ducking against his bicep as they walked to the table in the center of the room.

Dean mopped the bartop down aggressively as he glared at the couple sitting in the middle of his dusty tavern. His jaw ticked when that sheriff slid his arm around her shoulders. He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve the giggles and smiles she was giving him, didn’t deserve to lay a hand on her soft skin or smell her perfume. He didn’t deserve to kiss the lips that were currently pressed to his.

“Easy, pahtnah,” Benny said quietly as he clasped Dean’s shoulder. “Da’s tha sheriff. I know ya got some bad blood wit’ dat girl but now ain’t the time.”

“You’re right. I got this, I promise,” Dean assured his friend and business partner. He just wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up.

With a resigned sigh, Dean sent a waitress over with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. Sheriff Wesson tipped his hat towards the barman as he poured two drinks. Dean cringed inwardly as the sheriff held a glass up to her lips and encouraged her to drink. The night couldn’t end soon enough.

September 1899

“Now, Miss Y/N, you’re telling me you didn’t recognize any features of the men who just cleared this bank of cash?” Sheriff Wesson questioned with a raised brow.

“Not a single thing. They were tall, but not as tall as you. They had hats pulled down low and bandanas over their faces. Long coats and gloves. All manner of disguises,” she explained, dabbing her eyes with the sheriff’s handkerchief and sniffling. “This was so frightening. I don’t know if I can stay in this town any longer.”

“I can assure you that you’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay, Sheriff,” she hiccupped. “May I head back to my room? I think I need to rest.”

“Sure. I’ll walk you,” he insisted.

She allowed the sheriff to take her to the stairwell of the boarding house she was staying in and bid him farewell. As she shut the door behind her, she sighed in relief. Pretending to be a damsel in distress was exhausting.

Under the cover of darkness, Y/’N climbed out of the window and crept quietly to the stables, saddling a horse and riding quickly north, heading through the fields to a dense wooded area. Using the full moon as a guide, she nudged her horse onto a worn path partially obstructed by foliage.

She came to a stop before a small cabin, lanterns hanging from the porch illuminating the lawn and guiding her to the doorway. She stepped inside and paused, examining the faces of the men awaiting her.

“My, my,” she cooed, “what does a lady have to do to get a drink around here?”

“All you gotta do is ask, baby,” Dean smirked as he stood with a glass of bourbon for her.

“Nicely done, Cher,” Benny applauded as he tipped his head towards her.

“God, I hated having to pretend to be into someone else,” she muttered as she took the drink from Dean who pulled her in for a deep kiss.

“But you sold it well, darling,” he winked as he pulled back. “Almost had me convinced.”

“Thank god you’re the sheriff next time,” Sam called from his perch. “Was like kissing my sister.”

“Alright, guys. Bag everything up and load it into the wagon,” Dean instructed. “The Winchester Gang rides at dawn.”

Garth, Kevin, Sam, and Benny began packing their belongings and their loot away as Dean and Y/N scrubbed away any trace of them from the cabin. The Winchester Gang had yet to be caught. And they were determined to keep it that way.

Criminal AU: taylorswiftbingo

#writercole #western au #taylorswiftbingo #tellmeastorybingo #tmas bingo #dean winchester #dean smith #bartender dean smith #sam wesson #sam winchester #the winchester gang #garth fitzgerald #benny lafitte #robbery

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samadiw · 3 years

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THE ALGORITHM

Chapter 18 is up ❤

HAPPY READING 😍

Each word he uttered between kisses was punctured with desire, "I don't know what to make of this, but I want you, Granger."

His words, his tone, everything about him ignited a blazing fire in the pits of her being.

It was so bizarre how her body betrayed her when with him, but with Terry, it seemed to want to wither away.

Draco did not comprehend the words that seemingly spilt out of his mouth or whether he was even ready to have sex. Lack of practice made him conscious of his performance, and it was of the utmost importance that he lived up to his former reputation.

His voice was thick with yearning to claim her. He rasped, “You hate me. I know, but you want this. I can feel it. Tell me you want me to touch you intimately.”

He had wondered ever since he returned and ran into her what it would be like to kiss her. He imagined it be intense, her tongue pushing against his, her moans muffled by his insistent lips.

Her brain and hidden inner desires were not in sync. In fact, they were worlds apart, but she managed a halfhearted and utterly weak response, “No, I don't, Please....”

Draco knew he sounded desperate, even mildly intoxicated, but he replied firmly, "No? Then why did you wear this dress? Or do you enjoy driving me to the brink of insanity?"

What was he saying? It was all too much. Think of Terry, she silently commanded her body, but that was a futile attempt as any. She saw no one but the brooding ice blonde who muttered words of passion.

He clearly was not done with telling her exactly how he felt. It felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders among the many things that weighed him down, “I held it at bay for as long as I am able, but I'm a hot-blooded man, who knows exactly what he wants.”

Hermione protested with her eyes closed. Her voice was barely audible, “Malfoy, we can't. This is wrong on so many levels.”

#dramione #draco and hermione #draco x hermione #draco lucius malfoy #hermione granger #dramionefandom #dramionefanart #dramione fanfic #draco fanfiction #dhr #fanfiction #hpfanfiction

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delu-jean · 3 years

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Jean x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 4.7k

Notes: Sorry for updating a lot later than expected! Here’s chapter eleven, and twelve will be out as soon as I write it. Hope you enjoy!

Ⅹ > Ⅻ

During the night, you had no dreams or nightmares. It was simply peaceful, calming, and warm. Having him beside you (though he was on the floor) gave you the utmost comfort. He was really here with you, resting to the side, while you did the same. Such a feeling that was yearned for, had finally found its way back to you. The first night in what seemed like forever where you actually slept through calmly.

You woke up the next day to see the sun peer in. Through the crack of your blinds, highlighting the walls of your cozy room. The birds, though silent, remained present as the wind rustled quietly. Jean lay on the floor. His hand still clung onto yours from the night before. His grip felt secure and gentle when holding yours. His hair laced over the pillows, as his body was barely covered by the sheets. Only now did you realize how much of a mover he was. Though that was the case, he still miraculously held you through the night. Without causing any discomfort whatsoever.

You wanted to sit in this moment for a tad longer, but knew you would have to ready you both for the day ahead. You tried to slip out of his hand, but to your failed attempt, he gripped even tighter. He really wasn’t going to make this easy. You tried yet again, using your other hand to assist. Regardless, his one hand and few fingers kept you grounded. You thought that was the end of things, but he then pulled you in. Locking you in a tight embrace. You shook your head, both flustered and disappointed. You needed to get away from him, yet here he was, keeping you captive.

“Jean...Jean I need to get up-”

“Not again...no...never,” he mumbled.

It seemed as if he was sleep talking. If he was conscious, he probably would’ve laughed at you by now. You were sad to hear such words. He had gone through so much trauma to the point he couldn’t let go of you.

“I’m not leaving...not yet at least...so Jean, don’t worry and please let me go,” you cupped his cheek as it sank into your touch. His head now leaning towards you, and his face at a closer range. Smiling at the reaction, you then heard a knock coming from outside.

“Hm...I have to go now,” he seemed less tense than earlier. It must’ve been because of your words since he actually let you go. You got up, put yourself in a cardigan, and quickly tied your hair. Maybe this time it was actually Reiner, for goodness sake you would now need to leave a candle there. Just in case next time, it’s a crazy psycho and not Jean.

You opened the door, ready to attack if it was anyone threatening. Though hesitant, you let your guard down, opening the door even wider.

“Ah Y/n! Long time no see,” you stared at the woman, flowers in one hand, while treats in the other.

“Alexandra, what are you doing here?” you smiled shocked.

Alexandra was also a person from the military. An Eldian soldier who commanded her own squad. Though your rank was a tad higher than her’s, she was never too far from you. You both conversed here and there. Though you weren’t as close to her as you were with the warrior unit, you were both mutually acquainted. Enjoying each other’s company from time to time.

“I just came to drop by. If you’re busy, I can come sometime later today,” you didn’t want to be rude and reject her. Even though Jean was over, you assumed that if he had heard someone else (other than you) in the house, that he would keep quiet.

“No no no, I insist. Come in, I’m free,” you led her inside for her to then place the gifts on the table. Now that you thought about it, this was the second time she had been to your house. That being said, you were surprised she still had this place memorized. Not only that, but you were surprised she had come out of the blue. Did she have something important to share, what drove her to come?

“Curious are we?” she laughed as your eyes widened, embarrassed.

“Of course not-”

“Haha, you’re not a very good liar Y/n~”

“I guess you’re right about that,” you grinned as you started to prepare tea. She was just such a lady, and plus, tea complimented any situation. So why not make some now?

“Hm lovely. Earl Grey if I’m correct?”

“Haha, yes you are,” you then placed a cup down. Pouring the tea as she patiently waited. Crossing her legs and setting the treats she brought across the table.

“I’m sorry I’ve come so early in the morning, it’s just that my squad is going to be shipped out sometime tomorrow...so I wanted to say my goodbyes before then.”

“What do you mean? I know you’ll come back,” you smiled as she followed hesitantly.

“Yeah...of course I will,” you then set the teapot down, as she took a sip.

“Hey so...I heard that someone might be getting married,” you start to drink your tea, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Who?”

“Who else but you,” you choked on the beverage, wondering as to how she would know such a thing. You then tried to play things cool, hoping the subject would slowly avert.

“I’m still not understanding?-”

“You and Reiner silly. It’s been going around everywhere...didn’t you know?”

“No...I...I didn’t know that others knew?...”

“Ahh I see. Well, from what I know, the town seems content with such a proposal. The ladies have been talking about what kind of future you both might have, even with the limited time. Not only that, but Reiner’s mother seems ecstatic with both the arrangements, and attention being given,” you then bite down on your tongue. Never would you have thought things would escalate so quickly. Rumors that weren’t even confirmed, yet spread like wildfire. She then placed her cup down, grabbing one of the deserts to munch, and then covered her mouth. She spoke, trying to keep her manners while also enjoying the treat.

“So, have you prepared a wedding dress, did he give you a ring yet, or are you both going to wait for the day of?”

“No...I haven’t been given a ring, nor have I gotten anything.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah…”

“Hm...well okay. Let me ask you a different question.”

“Of course, whenever you’re ready,” she then finished, and took a sip. Eyeing you as you sat uncomfortable, not sure what her next approach would be.

“You do like him, don’t you?”

“Um...well...I...I would say-”

“You know, I’ve always thought the both of you were...how do I say it, cute. Very cute actually.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you laughed a little, thinking she was being sarcastic. Whereas she was being quite serious.

“You two have always seemed so close. You both respect each other, take the time to have one on ones, you also put in the effort to see each other’s families, and just...so much more. You’ve always seemed like a couple, or, couple goals to say the least. Not only that, but you seem to genuinely care for each other. You give words of affirmation, and he gives you acts of genuine affection.”

“How would you know such a thing?” your brow cocked as she sighed.

“My dear, it’s called observation. Speaking of observing, you can’t deny that Reiner is very attractive.”

“I-”

“I mean, he’s a total catch. He’s a very good looking gentleman. One that actually takes care of his hygiene. He’s presentable most of the time, and treats you like the lady you are. Giving you the respect which you deserve. Very attractive in my opinion. Chivalrous, yet understanding of a lady’s worth.”

“I agree with that,” though your feelings for Reiner were platonic, what she stated was...somewhat true. Just disclude the whole “wanting to kill you,” along with the “using you as a way to cope,” and vice versa.

“So you do like him?” she asked as you sat there, not sure about what your response would be.

“Well…” a question then sprung in your head. You put your cup down, to then eye her yourself as she locked her gaze. Awaiting for whatever your answer would be.

“Alexandra what if...what if there was someone else?”

“Someone better looking than Reiner?”

“I...I guess so,” you chuckled as she stared at you in shock.

“No way...did you get with Porco? Wow...you surprise me the more I get to know you-”

“Wait a minute, you think Porco is more charming than Reiner?” You cut her midway through, baffled to say the least. Now you were the person in shock as she smiled cockishly. Proud of such a statement.

“Well...yes...yes I do,” she said shamelessly as you now laughed.

“Wait, but why? I’m genuinely curious,” you said, obviously having a different opinion.

“First of all, his undercut is both sharp and clean. Not only that, but the dirty blonde really suits him. His build is nice, along with the fashion he portrays. Though not too out of the ordinary, you can tell he puts in the effort to look his best.

The energy he gives off is adventurous, dark, and mysterious, you know? But at the same time, he also seems like a gentleman. One who’s misunderstood, yet has a soft interior. His eyes seem to hide an excruciating pain, yet his smile is one full of brightness, and laughter,” you were surprised about how philosophical, and passionate she was when describing Porco...Porco of all people. No offense to him, but you would never see him in such light.

Regardless, she seemed proud to say such a statement, as she then asked you:

“And you? Just what about Reiner intrigues you? I understand for some reasons, but more than Porco?” you nodded to then state:

“I can’t guarantee my description will be a full fledged english essay. But oh well, here it goes,” she listened intrigued, ready to hear your rebuttal.

“Well, he does have a beard. Though Zeke’s is fuller, Reiner’s compliments his face structure. He has a very um...broad build, the blonde suits him well, and over all, is a very sweet person. Compared to Porco, I would say he has a much more timid nature. Don’t get me wrong, he can speak his mind, but is a little more sensitive when doing so. That being the case, I feel as if he’s more relatable. Though, I may be saying this because I’ve known him for longer, outside of Marely of course, I just think he’s the better option-”

“The better option, so he is an option. Meaning that you feel attracted to him. Leading to the conclusion that you like him,” she grinned maliciously as you panicked.

“Um well...I wouldn’t say that…”

“Interesting...but my point still stands haha. If you ever need someone to help you prepare for the occasion...if I come back...I’ll be sure to aid you.”

“Of course,” she then stood up, placing the flowers in a vase. Grabbing her bag, her coat, her hat, standing before you.

“But before I go, just who is this other person?...Are you really seeing someone?”

“I…” you weren’t sure what to say to her, as the hesitation rang in your voice.

“No...I just wanted to know what your thoughts would be,” You know you should have told her yes, but you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire, and if you couldn’t even tell the warriors, telling someone else shouldn’t have been an option.

“I see, well...farewell Y/n. Let us meet again, and if not here...somewhere else…”

“Yes, of course,” you smiled happily as the door then shut.

You were glad that one, she came to visit you, and two, that things were now over. You sat in your seat, stretching out your arms to hear another knock. Except this time, it was coming from behind you. Your head then flung backwards, your smile growing even wider as your chair tilted.

“Good morning handsome~”

“Good morning beautiful, how are you?”

“Greater than ever, how about you? Did you sleep well?”

“Magnificent. Also yeah, I did sleep well...surprisingly,” you both laughed a little, as you then got up, placing breakfast for the both of you. Though a little full from the meeting before, you still wanted to enjoy a meal with Jean. After all, it had been so long since the last time you did. And plus, that was during your time as a cadet. You weren’t able to enjoy such a feast in the morning.

You both ate in silence. Both of you trying to enjoy the food, and each other’s company. Letting the peace around settle in. Once you had finished both eating, and cleaning up after yourselves, you then decided to speak, asking:

“Did you hear the conversation I had earlier? I’m assuming you probably woke up because of it,” you didn’t ask how much he heard. You instead wanted to see how much he did hear from the man himself. He put the cloth he was holding down. Similar to you, he wanted to see if you’d tell him anything from the conversation. So he asked:

“Was there anything important I should be informed about regarding it?”

“No…” you lied guiltily, but you didn’t know how to handle it otherwise. He then decided to hint you with what he knew, by saying:

“Hm...Is Reiner really your type? Do I have to buff it up, go blonde, and grow a stache?” he then touched his face as you laughed. Both out of silliness, and nervousness. You felt worried knowing he heard that much of your conversation. Meaning, he knew you hadn’t denied Alexandra even once.

“Haha no! I love you just the way you areeee!”

He then looked at the ground, leading him to stand up.

“If that’s the case,” he leaned against the wall, staring at you intensely.

“No? Y/n, why did you say no?” you sighed in defeat, seeing that he most definitely was on your tail.

“I can’t tell her I’m dating a ‘devil’ from Paradis,” you said, trying to make an excuse.

“You wouldn’t have needed to tell her that...just saying yes should’ve been a good enough answer. You didn’t have to say no.”

“I know…”

“Then why did you?..”

“I just...I’m not even sure myself-”

“About this...us?...” he stopped himself while clenching his fist. Though he was annoyed, he didn’t want to push that onto you. He knew you cared about your relationship, and plus, it sounded petty for him to say.

“Never mind...it’s not a big deal.”

“I see…” you agreed, still feeling guilty as he then asked:

“You’re not planning on marrying him...right?”

“Hm,” you think to yourself. Though your mind had run blank, he certainly did not as it ran with rage. Seeing you hesitate when the answer should have been obvious. He just couldn’t handle it, along with his sense of inferiority. Though he had matured, there were still times where acted otherwise. This being one of them.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say no, almost immediately-”

“You know I won’t Jean…”

“Then why didn’t you tell off your friend? You didn’t deny the proposal, or your affection for him.”

Jean wasn’t jealous, rather, frustrated. Frustrated that you weren’t using your words (yet again), nor telling him any of your thoughts. It's like watching a movie with no audio, he wasn’t able to understand your actions even when seeing them. Without any coordination, communication would never reach his side of the spectrum.

He scrunched his eyebrows, and pinched the bridge between them. Though that was the case, he was trying to be patient with you. After all, this was something new and he didn’t want you to feel pressured. Nor did he want you to feel like it was completely your fault. Even if it was, he wouldn’t have known unless you told him so.

“Look Y/n...I really don’t want to fight, especially over something like this. But in order for me to understand things, even if it does hurt my feelings, I need to understand your thought process. That way, I’m able to clear up any misunderstandings. You tend to keep your mouth shut, and that’s not something that we need as of right now. You know how I feel, now it’s your turn,” you were still hesitant, feeling pressured as he approached you. He looked into your eyes. His stare was desperate, yet understanding. Patting your head as you gazed upwards.

“I’m sorry for acting like that...but you know...your actions do hurt me, especially when I don’t know where you’re coming from. So can you please...try to explain?” he pouted as you sighed, ready to convey how you felt. He seemed excited seeing that you were somewhat ready, feeling like a proud father...which was something he didn’t feel often (having both Connie and Sasha). It was a weird metaphor, but the only one which could describe the moment.

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. Although I do trust her, it could get out. You never know. Plus, I didn’t want to deny the proposal yet. I still need to talk things out with Reiner, and his mother” he seemed a bit disappointed, leading you to then hug him.

“But I can promise you, it’s something that won’t happen. I love you, and you alone,” he then wrapped his arms around, returning the favour. Him hovering over your top half, as you hugged his torso, still in your seat.

“I see...thanks for that but...I think I’ll still go blonde-”

“NO! I like your brown hair, it’s cute!”

“Cute eh? I guess I’ll keep it then,” Him then smirking at the ego boost, as you sat flushed.

“I love your hair as well.”

---

After breakfast, you both decided to make plans. Heading out for a walk in the park, wanting to spend more time together. If anything, you could conclude it as being a date. You went out for lunch, and strolled together while conversing. Though walking was a great thing, so was sitting. That being the case, you both sat on a bench. Hands intertwined, feet swinging, and him calmly humming. Moments had passed in such comfort for him to ask:

“What’s happened in your life? Well, other than becoming part of the military, and all of the boring stuff.”

“Nothing much, how about you? What’s been happening in yours?”

“Ah...I can’t say too much about that,” he nervously said, as you backed off, understanding it wasn’t something to be said aloud. You both then sat awkwardly, only for you to ask something that you had been curious about.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? After I left...the truth if possible,” you knew Jean was a truthful person, you trusted him, but you also knew he would sugar coat things to make you feel better. That being the case, you wanted honesty. No matter what. Afterall, you deserved to hear such criticism if needed. It was the least you could do to attone.

“I guess I’ll start off lightly. Um...we did find the cellar, the one which Eren’s father resided in. We also took back Shiganshina, though now mainly used for military purposes...I think. Not only that, but your horse has been doing fine.”

“Violet? How about Buchwald?”

“Yeah, him too. They’re pretty good friends in my opinion,” he looked at you to see that you weren’t content. It seemed as if you wanted to know more, rather than being shielded by the lightness in his words. Since you could make your own decisions, so could he. Deciding that he would tell you instead of keeping you from things. Things that you honestly...deserved to know.

“After you died...I barely slept. I couldn’t eat, train, or even walk for that matter. I was pretty malnourished during that time, refusing to have a meal. I did that feeling guilty that you couldn’t have it with me. You passed and yet I still lived?...it didn’t seem fair no matter what was said. I was pretty grumpy as well. Angry, sad, and confused. Not knowing what to do.

When Marco died, instead of mourning, I instead used it as a way to motivate me. To push myself even further for humanity, so that his death wouldn’t go in vain. But with your death...I couldn’t even. It was too painful to even bring up. Thinking of it as my motivation, seemed both coward like, and sickening.

Everyone else was pretty moody as well. Not sure how to approach such rogue behaviour from me, nor how to accept your death. Even though I made the biggest ordeal, they still mourned. However, even though that was the case, what matters is that you’re alive now. We’ve also talked things through, and now I’m here...with you,” he grasped your hand, smiling softly. The guilt that now built in your stomach, remind you of the pain you put him through. Not only that, but the anguish which held him captive for so many years. Though you put him in such a position...he was still willing to forgive you?

You stared at him. His eyes broken, yet also...in the process of healing. Although you couldn’t change the past, maybe you could alter the present, concluding in a better future for you both. You smiled as his thumb caressed your knuckles, loving the warmth. You sat there for a second, to then ask:

“Tell me...is Berthold alive?...in Paradis?” he then stopped, as he looked at the ground. You understood the answer, based on the actions given.

“How did he die?”

“Armin...ate him-”

“What? That’s only possible if-”

“We had spinal fluid? I know,” you sat there spooked. Just now finding out Paradis had such information, climbing up the latter as you spoke. They’d probably catch up to your wits eventually. Though that was the case, and you could have worried even more, you decided against it. Knowing this wasn’t the time to.

Instead, you decided to focus on Bertholdt. He was really gone...though you assumed it would have been better than being held captive, it still hurt. He must have felt so much pain going through that. Not only did he get eaten, but he was alone. None of you were there to help, nor witness such a sight. It saddened you as your eyes teared. The sweetest person, the only person who didn’t want to fight, was finally taken out of it in such a brutal way.

Jean saw the distress that struck across you, as he then wiped your tears. Trying to console you the best way he could. He knew what it felt like to lose a friend, heck he even thought he lost you. It was a process that hurt a lot...but one that would come to pass.

“What about everyone else?...”

“Hm...everyone is fine...especially Sasha and Connie. Those two are still as lively as ever,” he smiled as you followed suit.

“I’m glad they’re still the hooligans they were.”

“Yeah…me too.”

“How did you get here?...and why are you here?” you asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“Shh...it’s a secret,” he joked, obviously trying to avoid the question. After he answered, you could feel the tension in the air. One not wanting to tell the other everything just yet. You both trusted each other...yet felt as if your intentions...were something to keep behind closed doors…. For now at least.

Jean then sighed, gripping onto your hand even tighter. He, along with you, tried breaking the ice. Him with his actions, and you with your words. Though it felt a little awkward, you still wanted to carry out your conversation.

“You know, even though I tried pushing things aside...after leaving...I could never get over the departure. Separating from you, our comrades, and the place that made me feel...happy...normal...and well...loved,” grinning he then draped his arm over you. Your hand then grabbed his which lay on your chest, both intertwining whilst you both were even closer.

“Also...I’m surprised you didn’t move on. Especially after all of that time,” his expression then changed into a curious one.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you thought I died. Not only that, but you're quite the ladies man. So I wouldn’t see you having much to...any difficulty actually.”

“I could never Y/n...though it sounds childish, you were my first love. I couldn’t imagine leaving you for someone else, even if you had passed. I would’ve died an old stallion,” he dramatically said as you burst out laughing. He loved seeing the face you’d make when you were happy. How lovely the corner of your lips would lift, the way your eyes crinkled, as your brows lifted the slightest bit. He was glad he could see such a sight, and that he was the cause behind it.

“Who said you won't, ya horse!”

“HEY! I’M NOT ONE!” laughter continued to fill the atmosphere. Both you and him adding your humor to the mood. Laying your head on his chest, and moving in closer.

“You know, if we ever do part ways...don’t feel bad, okay?” you stated.

“What do you mean?”

“It can apply to anything but...I mean death to be more specific. You never know what will happen in the midst of battle.”

“Hm...I guess so”

“But, the guilt will live with me forever. No matter what because...I just love you that much,” you smile to yourself and nod.

“I too, love you just as much...Jean. And I always will.”

---

While you two were enjoying your moment, being yourselves, cherishing each other’s presence, Zeke was not having any of it. He didn’t hate the sight of you being with someone else, it was just that...he thought your priorities lay elsewhere. Both in loyalty, and worth ethically. That being the case, he decided to do the only logical thing. Crash. The. Party.

So, he crept behind the both of you, clawed his hands, and placed them on your shoulders screaming:

“BOO!”

“WHAT THE HECK!” you then smacked his arm, quickly squirming away from Jean.

“Heh, good morning to you as well, Y/n. Now, who’s this we have here?” Before you could respond, Jean sighed, extending his hand. He knew that if he let you talk, you would be put in another awkward position.

“My name is...John. A friend of Y/n,” you wheezed internally. He just had to pick the most generic name, one which sounded like his own. Zeke grabbed his hand, and shook it.

“Ah...nice to meet you John. Anyways, Y/n...Reiner has been looking for you all morning. His face seemed urgent, so I think you should go see him,” though Jean wasn’t pleased, with both Zeke, and the fact you had to leave (him for Reiner), he approved of the notion with a small nod.

“I’ll see you later, Je-John.”

“Yeah...same here,” he then walked the other direction, leaving both you and Zeke to walk towards HQ.

“Were you lying, about Reiner?” hand in his pocket, as the other smoked up a storm.

---

“No, I wasn’t. He actually was looking for you.”

“I see.”

“Also Y/n, just for the record, know that I’m not dumb, nor oblivious. I know what stunt you two were pulling off, trying to lie to me, tch,” he said, clearly annoyed. You inhaled the smoke of cigarettes. Not sure what to tell him. But you were also...laughing a bit. Actually enjoying his reaction since you’ve never seen Zeke so frustrated out of work.

“I see I’ve upset you?”

“Whatever you rascal. How long have you been with him?” he smiled as your hands clasped.

“We really are just friends. I met him at a pub, nothing much has happened between us, nor will anything in general,” he sighed as his tone became a lot firmer. Though he didn’t believe you, he still had something to say.

“You need to be more careful. If it were someone else who had seen, even more rumors would've been speculated, you know that? Plus, friendship or not, know where your priorities stand,” you choked on your saliva, trying to cough as his words caught you by surprise.

Before he could say anything more, the gates to HQ then opened for the both of you to see...Reiner...running as fast as he could.

“Reiner?...”

“Y/n! You’re here!”

“Yeah...I am….”

“I need you, let’s go,” he then dragged you elsewhere as Zeke stomped on his cigarette.

“You may need her...but does she actually need you...Reiner?”

Ⅹ > Ⅻ

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tsundere-cherry-girl · 3 years

Text

Call This Love a Curse?

Levi Ackerman x Witch Reader

Chapter Five

Aggravating Questions and Ridiculous Tasks

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Ok, currently you were seriously regretting allying with the Scouts. Hell, you regret even getting out of bed this morning (at a completely unreasonable hour because this is the freaking military.)

What was the cause of your current regret? One word, five letters. HANGE. The goggles wearing eccentric was asking you every single question under the sun about witches.

Now that you were awake you just wanted to read and eat breakfast in peace. This might be a little unrealistic considering you probably should figure out what the heck you were supposed to be doing, but right now you had no will to move.

"So if you can't vaporize people what can you do?" Hange questioned, hanging over your shoulder.

"Can you turn people into frogs? Do you turn into a cat? Or was it a bat? Nevermind, do you live super long? What would happen if a Titan ate you? Would it become a magic Titan or would you kill it? Ooh, I want to see that! Are you ok with getting eaten?"

The scientist continued on with her rapid fire questions, oblivious to the people beginning to come into the mess hall.

"Hange! Keep your voice down!" You hissed. Quickly you closed your book and pulled the hood of your cloak over your head.

"Um hello?" Hange asked, pulling up your hood slightly. "What's this about?"

"I'm pretty sure people will ask questions if they see a strange person just sitting around here." You replied.

"They'll ask more questions if they see a weird girl in a hood with her head on the table." Hange replied skeptically.

Instead of responding you just pulled your hood down further over your head. All because you had to work here didn't mean you had to make friends.

You heard footsteps, and the bench creaked like someone sat down on it. "Morning Commander!" Hange called. "So that's who it is."

"Good morning Hange. And is that [Y/N] under there?" Erwin responded.

You pulled up your hood. "Who else would it be?"

"Well it might have been Levi. He isn't really social either." Hange replied.

"I wouldn't hunch over a table and hide under a hood." Levi said, before taking a sip of his tea.

The rest of breakfast was mainly Hange and Erwin making conversation and Levi interjecting at points to comment something usually sarcastic or vulgar. Normally you would have found it funny but you really wanted to read while you still had the time.

"Oi, witch brat!" Levi called, causing you to raise your head. "Come on, it's time to get to work."

"Firstly, don't call me that. Secondly, what will we be doing?" You asked.

"Follow me, you'll find out." Levi said, getting up.

"What's wrong with telling me right now?" You asked, crossing your arms.

Instead of replying, Levi walked over and grabbed your arm, pulling you with him down the hall.

"Wh-Hey! Slow down! What's this about?" You asked, annoyed.

"Quit being so stubborn. This is important work and it can't wait." Levi said, still pulling you along.

Confused, you began to wonder what you had to do. It must be important if Levi was so insistent on you starting now. He didn't seem like the type to get worked up over nothing.

Levi finally stopped before a closed door and spoke to you. "This assignment is of the utmost importance. Behind this door is one of the most horrific things you will ever see in your lifetime. Take this very seriously."

"It's that bad?" You questioned. You had seen some horrible things. If this was the worst...... then hell lay behind this door.

"Whatever you're imagining, it's even worse. Be on guard." Levi said. Slowly he opened the door. And you prepared yourself to face the horror of..... a dusty room?

"This is the 'horrific thing'?" You questioned. "A dusty room?"

Levi looked at you like you had two heads. "This isn't some dusty room. There is filth everywhere, I even saw mold somewhere in here. Mold!"

You shrugged. This didn't make any sense. Levi then handed you a bucket full of cleaning tools, a few rags, and a broom.

"Here you'll need these. And don't even think about flying away on that broom." He said before gesturing to the room.

"Hold up," You said. "You want me to clean this room?"

"Yes," Levi replied. "Wasn't I clear?"

"Um no." You answered, walking into the room.

"Don't miss a single spot or you have to redo the whole thing." Levi orders, before leaving you standing in the middle of the room with a bunch of cleaning supplies.

Perhaps Levi did have at least a bit of a point. The room was very dusty. Sighing, you covered your head and face, and picked up the broom. Might as well do something.

But.... at the same time. No one said you couldn't take a bit of a short cut. Smirking, you mumbled a few words and tapped one of the tattoos on your arm. You felt a sudden rush of energy through your body.

Your markings and your eyes turned blood red, as you raised your arms, making a motion. You moved your arms to manipulate the air to your will and take the filth from the room.

You then leapt and twirled the broom, cleaning with an inhuman speed.

Smirking again, you stepped back, standing confidently, broom in hand. "I'll show that Shortie that I can do much more than cleaning. Ha, I think I can beat him at his own game."

Levi walked down the hall. You should have been finished by now. Were you trying to make him angry?

No matter, time to see what sort of shit job you did. He approached the horrible room. He paused before opening the door. "What if it's still a mess? Ugh, I don't want to think about that."

When he opened the door, he froze. You sat there levitating and reading your book.

But that's not what shocked him. What shocked him was how the room was utterly and completely............

........Spotless.

"Hello Corporal.... Shortie was it?" You answered sarcastically.

Levi frowned. "Explain this." You raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"How did you clean all this?" He asked.

"I'm a witch aren't I?" You replied, still looking at your book.

Levi tch'ed. "And witches are good at cleaning? What's your secret, magic?"

You looked up and smirked defiantly. "I'm good with a broom."

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epicseptic · 3 years

Text

Erseptyl AU

Prologue Part2

So this is part 2/3 to the prologue of my fantasy au? I so apologize if this one doesn’t live up to the first. This one got a little too ambitious for me.... but I am still learning how to word ^^’ And dialogue.. i gotta learn to do that too. I’ll learn tho. I hope.... Criticism is appreciated ^^’

Part one - https://epicseptic.tumblr.com/post/660766644770062336/erseptyl-au

----------

"Ugh, this is so BORING!" Marvin groaned. He slumped in his place on the throne, leaning his elbow on the armrest with his head in his hand.

"Your Highness, please refrain from such inappropriate outbursts...." Anti was highly unamused by the misbehavior and the disapproving look on his face said it all. He stood to the left of the throne with a book as big as an encyclopedia in his arms and a quill in his hand. As Marvin's royal advisor, he stood beside him throughout most of the day charting records and ultimately helping the prince make decisions on social and economical issues in the kingdom. He was typically very calm and passionate about his work, always wanting to get straight to the point and sometimes getting carried away.

At least, that's how Marvin saw it.

"How many people did you say I would have to meet with today?" He asked, his boredom was evident in the tone of his voice and the way he kicked his foot against the carpet.

"Not many. Several folks from town have requested an audience with you. Afterwards, you are to meet with a group of men from the council to discuss taxes and production within the city. It should only take a couple of hours. Now please sit up straight and be professional." His words were quite stern and he spoke to him as if he was instructing a four year old. It was clear that he didn't have much patience to deal with the prince's nonsense today.

Marvin simply huffed with slight annoyance as he propped himself up and fixed his posture. He was used to behaving "properly" but he wasn't fond of the way the servants would still tell him how to act. It seemed that some of them still treated him like some kind of adolescent child. Maybe they didn't see it the same way, but he thought he was perfectly mature. Inexperienced maybe, but other than that he didn’t need everyone to hold his hand all the time. He wasn’t just some child anymore. He just wasn't at all excited about the boring meetings he would have to sit through today...

As if right on cue, the captain of the royal guard, Chase, entered through the castle gates and approached the throne along the long, golden colored carpet. "Your Highness" He kneeled in front of the steps when he reached the end of the hall. "The townspeople that are to meet with you are beginning to line up outside. Shall I let them in now?"

Chase was Marvin's most skilled soldier. He was skilled in both sword and bow. In fact, archery was his strongest suit. He was dedicated and disciplined, though you would never know that outside of the sparring halls since that side of himself was reserved only for the training grounds and the battlefield. His authoritative conduct usually stayed buried beneath his friendly and optimistic attitude when he was around the rest of the staff. He was friendly and fun, but focussed when he needed to be. Marvin quite appreciated his companionship as well. He was a good friend and was actually acquainted with the prince on a more personal level, much like JJ was. However, he still treated Marvin with the utmost respect. To this day, he still refused to address him by his first name no matter how many times Marvin told him he could.

With a bit of uncertainty, Marvin looked to Anti who simply stared impatiently back at him, waiting for him to give the command to the knight. He supposed that look meant yes. He sighed, ready to just get the afternoon over with. "Yes. Please send them in...."

Chase wasted no time nodding and getting to his feet to fetch the townspeople waiting outside and it wasn't long before he returned to introduce the first individual; a baker by the name of Ludwig looking to expand his business. He was asking to be given the funds to open a second shop on the other side of town and to provide himself with the proper equipment. A reasonable thing to ask for, right?

"Well…" Marvin thought aloud upon hearing the man’s plea. He knew that his advisor would insist on denying this request - that he would see no significance in the man's plight - but decisions like this really preyed on Marvin's moral values.

When he didn't come up with a quick enough response, Anti decided to chime in and give his opinion. "Your highness, adding another bakery into the city is not a priority. There is no need to waste tax money on... cake..." He had a look of disgust on his face when he said that last word, his eyes scanning the man up and down. His words were harsh and Marvin cringed seeing the baker’s heartbroken expression. As he suspected, Anti was opposed to the idea. He took his opinion into account but he still didn't know what he should say. It was all so daunting, having everyone's eyes on him while he anxiously tried to come up with something that would make everyone happy... But he knew that no matter what he chose, someone was going to be upset. Whether it was the baker who would leave empty handed and disappointed, or Anti who would disagree with the way he handled money. It was as if he was stood before a tall, delicate structure and, despite his best efforts to keep it standing, his ultimate decision would always send it crashing down. Since being in charge, he quickly learned that there were no compromises. Apparently, it wasn’t about making a choice that made everyone happy, but instead about choosing the one that would cause less destruction…

He knew that he couldn't pass out gold to just anyone but, in the end, he couldn't deny someone the opportunity to follow their dreams. And so, he finally had his verdict. "I think it's great that you want to share your talent with your people. I would be honored to help provide you with the means to do so." He agreed and the man was immediately filled with joy. He thanked the prince again and again, saying that the kingdom was blessed to have such a gracious ruler like him. He had to admit, he felt a bit awkward by his kind words but, aside from that, he was just happy to see the man filled with such happiness. Besides, Marvin knew what it was like to want to be a part of something bigger and achieve a personal level of success.

It felt good to come to a rewarding conclusion and he was beaming as he watched Chase escort the very joyful man out of the throne room. However, when he looked to Anti, he noticed him looking down with a frown as he scribbled something in his notes. He was shaking his head in disapproval and Marvin's smile promptly faded seeing the sour expression on his face. Suddenly he began wondering if he made the right choice after all. Maybe he should've thought a little harder about his decision but wasn't keeping the people happy the right thing to do? Wasn't that the most important thing about being a ruler?

He just didn't know anymore. He wished someone would tell him... It always seemed like he was doing something wrong. It was never good enough for everyone…

Minutes after the man had left the throne room, the next citizen walked in through the large doors. After all the time he'd spent pondering the first request, he already felt so overwhelmed and began wondering just how long that whole ordeal had taken.

"Umm… Anti?” He leaned over his chair to whisper to him. “How long have we been here?"

He stared vacantly at him for a moment, completely speechless. "Your highness, we just got started… It's only been 10 minutes. Now, please sit properly!" He whispered back but with a far more impatient tone. Truthfully, he was shocked that the prince was already getting restless when they'd only just begun.

Only 10 minutes? He frowned and corrected his posture again, resting his head in his hand while he leaned against the armrest. If that's how long 10 minutes felt, he couldn't imagine how long he was going to have to sit there… Sitting in one spot for hours was boring enough as it was, but the most taxing part of it all would be making proper, sensible decisions in a timely manner. all while trying his best to keep everyone happy. That was the most difficult part about all of this and he knew that all of the stress was going to leave him exhausted. There was no telling how long these meetings were going to last but he just tried to maintain professionalism and push through the next few hours with a smile. All he knew was that it was about to be a long afternoon…

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Later that evening, after all of his meetings were finally over, Marvin had retired to his study. Unfortunately, though his meetings were over, his business was not and he still had yet to finish answering many other requests. His study room consisted of bookshelves on either side of the room, a large arched window in the back with the curtains wide open to let in the sunlight, and his desk in the center which contained paperwork, ink, quills, and books.

He was sitting at his desk with his head resting tiredly in his hand while he leaned his elbow on the wood. Anti was with him and he was listening to him read out more propositions for him to answer to. These ones were different from the meetings he had to sit through earlier since they weren’t just from town, but from all over the kingdom. Each proposition came with a scroll of paper to sign and Anti passed them to him on the table one by one. He had such a hard time focusing on them and found himself staring distantly at the papers in front of him, barely caring enough to listen as Anti read them out.

"Your Highness, the king in the neighboring kingdom is planning to raid Jaskervawl and he is inviting you to join him. He is simply asking for you to provide men and weapons for his cause. This would be a great opportunity for you to-"

"No, thank you." He suddenly interrupted, not wanting to hear any more. He already hated the sound of this selfish request.

Anti didn't appreciate being interrupted but he calmly continued just as before. "My Prince, if I may, this would be a great opportunity to expand your reign and conquer more territory." Anti made an effort to calmly convince him to change his mind and go through with the raid. "As king, it is important that you claim land and supplies for profit, even if that means stealing it. Just think, your leadership could strike fear into your enemies."

He shook his head. "I said no. I will not get involved in a war."

"My liege, I think you should accept this proposal.” He immediately disregarded his refusal and insisted that he go through with the assault on Jaskervawl. “You cannot continue to dodge vital opportunities such as this. A king must show leadership! You represent everything that this kingdom stands for. Whether or not this leads to a war, should not concern you...“ This is what he hated most when it came to working under the prince. He was always trying to 'play it safe' and it was obviously holding him back. His lack of leadership was only hindering the growth of the kingdom's productivity and, therefore, its money.

And to him, money meant power.

"I said, no." Though he raised his voice a bit, he remained patient with Anti. However, it was starting to bug him that his words seemed to have no effect on the situation. He was in charge and yet it felt like he had no say in this. He wanted nothing more to do with it. "We will speak of this no further."

By this point, Anti was incredibly irked and found that he couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. "You are going to be king one day, and you expect to be as successful as your father? At this rate you’ll never measure up to him! What kind of example do you intend to set if you do not grow up and take some responsibility to provide for your kingdom? When will you accept your role as a ruler and quit avoiding every opportunity to-"

"Enough! That is not your decision to make!" This struck a nerve for him. He could only take so much of Anti patronizing him and he quickly got to his feet, his hands slamming on the table in protest. "I am the prince and I run this kingdom, not you! Do not speak to me like I am some kind of naive child!"

Anti fell silent. Marvin noticed and he brought his voice level down significantly.

He waited a few moments, took a deep breath, then sighed. "I told you, I decline. I will not risk the safety of my people or my army. You would do well to accept that, Anti."

"But-"

"You are my advisor, not my father. You have no authority over me. You are merely here to assist me in my daily affairs. I make the decisions, not you." It seemed he always had to remind him of his place...

He hesitated, swallowing back his agitation. "Yes, my liege...." He bit his tongue, so hard that he could taste a slight tang of blood in his mouth. He had to bite back whatever bitter insult he so longed to spit into the prince's face.

Marvin never noticed anything out of the ordinary and sat back down in his chair once he’d calmed down. He stared down at the paper in front of him with thought before picking it up and crumpling it into a ball in his hand. "Look....” He began. “I will remind you again not to step out of line."

"Yes, of course.... My humblest apologies, my lord. It seems I have allowed myself to lose my composure again...” His words were almost dramatic. The tone he used was excessively apologetic. So much so that any other person would suspect that it was all an act, like a jester putting on a terrible theater play, portraying a character that anyone could see right through. “I hope you will have mercy on me...." He bowed deeply with his left hand over his chest. No matter how many times this happened, he always acted so sincere, and Marvin believed him. He felt that he had no reason to doubt him.

He never looked back at Anti. In fact, he seemed to intentionally avoid looking directly at him. Instead, Marvin breathed a heavy sigh and after a few moments of silence, he offered his answer. "Of course…." He said calmly. Even though Anti tended to lose his cool, he worked efficiently at his job and Marvin couldn't bring himself to punish him. He wanted to be fair but perhaps he wasn't being firm enough.

It didn't matter right now. His mind was tired and he was at his limit. He just wanted to finally be rid of all of the stress of this day. "Please, Anti, if you don't mind, I think I'm done with my duties for today. I'm exhausted…."

More annoying delays... He wanted to protest again but quickly caught himself and held back before he could make a sound. "Understood... We can continue this matter tomorrow. I will just take my leave then." He bowed to him once again. However, he never once took his cold, harsh glare off of him. The expression on his face was disturbingly calm, but his eyes were like icy daggers. It was like his stare alone could impale you just the same as any sharp blade.

Again, Marvin failed to notice this and laid his forehead directly on his desk, both arms dangling lazily at his sides. He really acted so immature sometimes... It didn't matter anymore though because Anti hastily turned on his heel and exited the room, not wanting to waste another moment he could be spending elsewhere.

Stepping out into the hall, he passed by another servant, JJ to be exact, who was carrying a tray of dessert for the prince in his hands. Anti marched down the corridor, the weight of his boots on the carpet let anyone within earshot know of his presence. JJ felt his shoulders stiffen when he noticed Anti ahead of him. He knew that they would inevitably cross paths so he made a great effort not to accidentally make eye contact with the intimidating man in front of him. Though his head remained facing forward the whole time, as he passed him, JJ swore he caught a glimpse of that same icy stare glancing at him with disgust. The moment was so short but the weight of his stare was almost suffocating. And as he walked away, the wind from his cape trailing behind him carried a bitter chill to it that made Jamie shudder.

As scared as he was of Anti though, he couldn’t help but stop in his tracks and turn back to catch a glimpse of him walking away with a posture so tall and full of pride… He looked so normal from a distance but up close, Anti was terrifying. He tried to just shake it off and pay no mind to his unsettling presence though. He had important matters that needed his attention, and after a few moments of staring, he turned around and continued down the corridor to Marvin's study.

He carefully knocked on the door when he’d reached it. Seconds later, he heard Marvin's muffled voice from the other side, permitting him to enter. He entered the room slowly and closed the door behind him. The first thing he saw was Marvin sitting with his arms folded on the desk and his head buried in his arms. He looked… comfortable... He didn't want to disturb him so he set down the tray on the desk in front of him and gave his shoulder a gentle tap.

When Marvin looked up, he saw a lovely piece of fruit cake on a small plate waiting for him. Then he noticed JJ looking at him with concern written in his expression. He quickly corrected his posture and shook the hair away from his face to quickly fix himself up for his friend and make it seem like nothing was out of the ordinary. Maybe JJ wouldn’t notice his tiredness.

"Oh- Hey, Jamie" he greeted as naturally as he could. However, JJ could see the fatigue on his face, plain as day.

"Is everything alright?" He signed. Seeing as how Anti had just left the room and Marvin being so worn out, he suspected that Anti had lost his temper again. This seemed to be a pattern with Anti and JJ wasn't at all pleased with the way he overstepped his boundaries with the prince.

Anti carried the blood of a dark elf in his veins and, while his kind had been wiped out by humans long ago, it seemed that his temperament matched that of his ancestors. It was a characteristic of his, yet it always made JJ wonder why Anti would take on a role in serving the royal family. Shouldn't he have a grudge on the royal bloodline for the destruction of his kind? As curious as he was, Jamie couldn't bring himself to ask. Anti was terrifying enough as it was. But why on earth would someone with such a short fuse like him work such a tedious job like this one? He should know what to expect by now.

"Did something happen with Anti?" He inquired worriedly, already expecting the answer he dreaded to hear.

He picked up the plate from the tray and placed it in front of himself. He didn't know how to answer him. He knew that if he said yes, JJ would scold him again for letting Anti lose his cool. But he couldn’t lie. Not to Jamie. "Well…" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "He just got a little heated again. It's no big deal though. I took care of it-"

Already he could see JJ's expression harden and his brows furrowing in anger. The mute wasn't usually one to lose his temper but when it came to his best friend, he became quite defensive.

"Marvin, you cannot allow him to disrespect you like that." He signed his name… Now Marvin knew just how serious he was. Even his hands moved more vigorously as he signed.

Marvin raised his shoulders and his cheeks flushed with shame. He knew that JJ was only concerned for him but he still felt as if he was a child who was being verbally chastised over a small mistake. Truthfully, he felt hopeless.

"It's fine, JJ. I have it all under control. It's nothing I can't handle-"

"Don't you see? He's doing more harm than good. He's stressing you out. Why do you continue to employ him?"

Marvin was silent. He stared down at the untouched cake in front of him, trying once again to find his words. "I can't just fire him. He might be impatient sometimes or lose his cool, but I feel like he has potential… You know?" He paused. "I mean… Surely, he's trying to better himself. Right? He deserves a chance at that…" He tried so hard to defend him and justify his cruel actions.

There was more to it than that and JJ could tell that he had more reason to want to trust Anti. He had a feeling he knew what it was too... Anti had been working at the castle for a long time. Longer than himself and many of the other servants. He had previously been under the employment of the king and only continued to serve under the prince. Marvin didn't want to fire him because he felt that he was the closest living person to his father. He certainly trusted him enough to allow him into the royal court… He just couldn't let go of someone who worked so closely with his father. Anti was the only one in the castle who spent all of his time with the king. If anyone knew how the king worked, it was him and Marvin believed him to be the only one who could show him how to be just as good as his father.

JJ had to admit, he felt a small bit offended. It seemed that Marvin saw Anti as more of a figure of guidance than him… In a way, he was disappointed that his best friend didn’t perceive him in that way. Despite all of that though, his reason for keeping the elf in power was personal and so JJ didn't want to press the matter further. Besides, the reasons didn't matter. It was clear that Marvin really trusted Anti as his advisor and didn't have the heart to remove him from his staff.

Marvin could see JJ looking at him intently with a very puzzled stare, as if he was staring into his mind trying to pick apart his very thoughts for trusting such a foul individual. "Look, don't worry about Anti. I know he's a bit… Unorthodox? But he deserves just as much a chance to work here as anyone else… Please, just give him a chance, okay?"

Hearing those words reminded JJ of how kind Marvin really was as a person. Naive, no doubt, but kind. It was concerning sometimes, especially in this case. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that there was nothing he could say to change the prince's mind. He didn't trust Anti one bit and, the way he saw it, Anti was faking his respect for the prince because when he was anywhere but by the prince's side, his demeanor changed. It was ominous and conniving. All of the servants knew it. There was always something going on behind his mask of loyalty but no one truly knew what he was thinking. It was disturbing to say the least.

JJ sighed in defeat. "I will trust your judgment, my friend." He addressed him more personally. "But please watch your back around him. Don't let him get away with his power..."

It was apparent that JJ didn't trust Anti. In fact, he was aware that multiple people in his staff felt very put off by Anti in general but Marvin still had faith in him. Besides, even if Anti lost his temper from time to time, he always seemed to catch himself and correct his behavior. Why would he punish someone who was just doing their best?

"Don't worry, Jamie. I'll keep an eye on him." He looked at him, giving him a confident, reassuring smile. He’d hoped that JJ could see things the way he did and trust in his judgment and it seemed he did a good job convincing him.

The atmosphere seemed kind of tense now after their conversation but then Marvin suddenly remembered the cake that he still had yet to touch. It had completely slipped his mind and he awkwardly fumbled for the fork that was still resting on the tray that JJ had brought in, eager to change the subject to something else.

"Oh! But this cake sure looks incredible-" He declared with renewed excitement. He scooped a generous helping of cake onto the small fork and took a taste of the beautiful dessert. It tasted just as good as it looked. It was dense and sweet and it was the perfect thing to help him relax after such a long day of meetings. “Hmm… Thank you, Jamie…”

Usually, Marvin would not be allowed to have junk food before dinner since it would spoil his appetite, but JJ decided that he would make an exception for today. It had been a long day and this was the perfect thing to help him relax before his bedtime eventually rolled around. Until then, JJ would let him take his time and enjoy his cake. He was just happy to see him smiling and enjoying himself for the first time all day. It was probably the most rewarding thing about being Marvin’s valet; getting to cheer him up when he needed it most. He smiled sweetly at him and signed once more. “Of course, my friend.”

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I hope its still okay to tag you all? ^^’

@jack-and-sammy @geekyfox2 @fanaticallyperfect @cryptid-bwoid

#jacksepticeye #jse egos #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #chase brody #fanfiction #erseptyl au #fantasy au #writing #my writing #jse community

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

All the Belles and Whistles

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Rating: T Chapters: 1/?

Summary: Eloise wants—no, needs—more from her life. Certain that only Lady Whistledown can truly understand, she follows her from the printing press after disrupting the queen's trap.

Watching the man halt in the alley next to the press, Eloise felt a surge of true accomplishment. She had stopped him, and not just him—the queen! She had dashed the plans of the queen, operating as decisively and effectively as none but Lady Whistledown herself! Her brothers may ride smartly and her elder sister practice piano with all the naturalness of one whose own pale skin has been shaped from the same ivory as the keys while Eloise was put down as a diary-scribbler and promptly dismissed, but this was a tangible triumph.

Only… she could not share it.

For a moment, Eloise stood on the cobblestones, staring as the man she had foiled caught his breath and trudged away with an unkind glare in her direction. The rattle of Lady Whistledown’s carriage was fading. Eloise spun to her driver.

“We must follow her,” she insisted, scampering up into the carriage without assistance.

“Miss… I should return you to the ball.”

He hesitated and she found she had no patience for his qualms. Disobedience, disloyalty… what were these concerns to her? Everyone must choose a side—preferably their own side, she was finding—and as he was already here, he must choose hers.

“My business is not concluded,” Eloise informed him firmly. “I need you to catch up with that carriage. It is of the utmost importance.”

She snapped the door shut and sat inside her plush cave, twisting her fingers in their satin gloves. Had it been enough? Would he believe in her authority and execute her wishes? Oh, to be her sister in this moment! Daphne did not fumble, even in inexperience. Her little missteps only made her a more charming duchess. She could likely command something so simple as a carriage with a mere smile. Ought Eloise to have smiled?

A sudden jolt set the carriage in motion and she thrilled to feel the turn it took down the alleyway, not back in the direction of the Hastings Ball. Yes. She was a woman of force and ability! A Bridgerton! She would either dramatically overtake the other carriage before revealing herself to Madame Delacroix as a familiar ally or trail her to her apartment next to the Modiste and rap at her door as the scandal sheet writer’s heart was still calming from her near capture. All would end in the pair of them regaling each other with the same adventurous tale from two different perspectives and offering a giddy stream of congratulations over what could surely be looked upon as their shared success.

Lady Whistledown would understand her. She was, perhaps, the only woman in the ton who could. She would not diminish the value of the swift action Eloise had taken or instruct her to return to the ball. She would not treat Eloise like a child. Imagine—her mother felt that she was sufficiently grown up to debut next season, but could not possibly fathom the other feats her daughter might be capable of. Eloise grinned to herself in secret pride, remembering a moment later to hold her shoulders back so as not to crumple her body or gown. She could bear anything if Lady Whistledown knew her worth and did not cause her to feel undercut or belittled, as she occasionally did in the company of her family and frequently did while stammering through her updates to Queen Charlotte. Was a prospective apprenticeship too much to hope for? Oh, it could not be acknowledged anywhere but between Eloise and Madame Delacroix, but to hone the power of her own pen under the tutelage of one with such a measure of impact on society, that would truly be a thrill.

As the carriage rolled briskly along, she pictured pages flowing with effortless writing. She would sharpen her skills for observation and concision. She would paint a picture so simultaneously lifelike and astonishing that it would shock her readers into action. What kind of action, exactly, Eloise did not know, but that was not a concern for this moment. When the time came, she would know what to say and, at that point, be amply equipped to say it.

Along a dark stretch of road, Eloise caught her reflection in the window; the jewels and band decorating her hair glimmered. What an elegant stranger. The version of herself she saw was not the self she knew. Neither, however, was a young woman who had altered her life and the lives of any future person who may appear in the continued editions of Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers by shielding that bold lady from royal censorship. Self-congratulations overwhelmed her once more. Only the sight of her own home approaching could cool Eloise’s pleasure.

Damn it all to hell. The wretched driver was neither pursuing Madame Delacroix nor depositing Eloise back with her mother. He had taken her home, where she would be forced to stew and await judgement until he returned at an unguessable time, conveying the rest of her family. Well, she would not take this lightly. Nor quietly! She would take her only recourse and bully the man that he might display a touch more fidelity the next time. She was determined that there would still be a next time. After tonight’s events, her spirit would not be quelled, her ambitions not squeezed and folded and packed into a box like the impractical cloud of a new gown from the Modiste.

Just as Eloise sank back into her seat with a huff, arms crossed tightly in her sulk, she was forced forward again by the carriage drawing to a stop on the wrong side of the road. So, he meant to punish her by obliging her to walk across the street in the dark. A small pettiness and all the meaner for its triviality.

She felt the tilt of the carriage that signified the driver’s dismount and turned her head away from the door at the handle’s click. He would see her displeasure, never mind that it might encompass unfortunate similarities to the bad behaviour of her youngest siblings.

“Miss, do you not wish to follow her?”

Eloise snapped her head around, meeting the driver’s inquiring expression with one of bafflement.

“Follow her? Follow who?”

“The object of your… chase. She disembarked only as we drew up.”

Not a betrayal! Miraculous! She nodded to him with an appreciative jerk of her head and he stepped quickly back as she sprung to the ground.

Drawing her fluttering wrapper about her, Eloise marched on the Featherington house. Her step hiccupped with a sudden misgiving; whyever would Madame Delacroix flee here? What circumstance had made this residence a safe haven for her? Last Eloise had heard from Pen, the Featheringtons and their preferred dressmaker were rather at odds over new dresses or delayed payment or some other silly misunderstanding. True, she had seen the ladies of this house clad in freshly-made gowns only this evening, but whatever quarrel had preceded their fabrication could not have been so hastily and thoroughly resolved as to make the Modiste’s mistress a great favourite with the defensive Baroness Featherington.

What if… what if the figure who had vanished inside were not Lady Whistledown? What if they had somehow dogged the wrong carriage? No, Eloise decided. Impossible. Dumping her at home for a reprimanding by her mother was one thing, but making a fool of her by tricking her into mistakenly confronting Baroness Featherington would cost the Bridgertons’ driver his employment. He would not dare. She darted a look behind her to see him gathering the reins, dutiful enough not to trot off and leave her until she had entered one house or the other. Well. She must not allow her courage to flag within view of an audience.

Something about the carriage that had conveyed Lady Whistledown struck Eloise, niggling her brain, but that brain was too full to properly examine the thought, allowing it to stray beyond imminent recovery. She was excitable, gathering her skirt out of the way of her feet as she flew to the Featheringtons’ front door. Knocking would only disturb the household servants further, and perhaps Madame Delacroix had not alerted them at all. Eloise would likewise slip inside, as though to attend some sort of meeting in shadows, the kind of thing she had pictured her brothers doing when she was a child, failing to understand that the activities of their ‘club’ comprised nothing more than boorish talk and overenthusiastic imbibing. Men were dull creatures, she ruled, pushing inside and catching her gaze on the swirl of a blue cloak as its wearer turned at the intrusion. Whereas women were…

Lady Whistledown lowered her hood and Eloise’s fine new shoes skidded to a stop.

#my writing #yes that's right I'm writing for ANOTHER fandom #don't at me #Bridgerton #Bridgerton fanfiction #Eloise Bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #Eloise x Penelope

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding.

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict.

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge.

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday!

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep.

I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband.

Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service.

“I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier.

I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod.

Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood.

Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color.

“Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah.

There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah.

“Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles.

“There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back.

This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family.

The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky.

The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half.

Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable.

First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights.

Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,”

He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.”

His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced.

My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.”

Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night.

“Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.”

He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second.

My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night.

I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together.

When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should!

Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah.

The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!”

“I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room.

Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun.

Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece.

The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick.

I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

“So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

“That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

“Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair.

“Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

“Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?”

“Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins.

“Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys.

“I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

“I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

“No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

“Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

“Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

“We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

“It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud.

“Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

I almost choke on my cookie.

Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

“Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

“Not to…” the twins mumble contritely.

“Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!”

The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

“Haymitch…” I ground a low warning.

It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between…

Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell.

“Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!”

I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

I giggle at the memory.

I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.”

I happen to agree.

I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in.

Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other.

My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

“But, Mamme…we know the story!”

Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?”

I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM!

“Yes, Mamme.”

I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has?

Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude.

I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

I was 11 then.

That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army.

Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected.

Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments.

Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others.

“Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes.

“Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!”

“Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot.

The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

Prim takes a deep breath and nods.

Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically.

“Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages.

Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

“Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

“‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

“Purified!”

“Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring.

Aspen continues the narration after a second.

“At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

Hushed voices comment their approval.

The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

“Eight days…” corrects Thom.

“Eight days straight!”

“It was a miracle!”

Everyone claps, excitedly.

“The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

“That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

“And won back the Holy Temple,”

“And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!”

The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration.

After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces.

The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made.

“Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

“For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.”

My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!”

My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?”

I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

“I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.”

My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?”

“I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early.

Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children.

My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results.

Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman!

Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse.

Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!”

Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair.

“Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes.

I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat.

“Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own.

“I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek.

It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way.

We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund.

Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents.

Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did.

Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can.

While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet.

I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles.

Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg.

It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in.

I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.”

Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

Peeta and I survived against the odds.

It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming.

It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.

It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for.

“Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on.

“Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!”

“What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly.

Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!”

“Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

“Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip.

He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor.

“Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.”

I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob.

Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week.

“Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

“Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

“Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle.

I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn.

Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago.

My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff.

My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully.

Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays.

After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!”

“Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!”

“Together?” My voice wavers.

“Together!” he vows.

“Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back.

“Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears.

“It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape.

Peeta is crying.

I’m crying too!

My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her.

“Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

“Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it.

Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

“Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief.

“Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?”

“No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

“We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table.

We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!”

The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s!

“Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim.

“Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!”

The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess.

After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her.

Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag.

Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely.

I fall asleep after a while.

When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light.

Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not.

“Peeta?” I call softly.

My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,”

No, I wouldn’t.

I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family.

I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect.

“Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

“Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between.

My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah.

Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift.

I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange.

“Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle.

He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy.

I nod, accepting his explanation.

Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly.

“Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!”

I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically.

He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on.

I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow.

We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah.

Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby.

Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.”

I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

“I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

“Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #prompt

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

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BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 6: DURO PT 1

summary: Mace Windu, Stass Allie, and the 91st Reconnaissance Corps take you on a mission to one of the many orbiting islands of Duro; you meet Cheefdaz Fik, a prominent Hutt crime lord, who takes quite an interest in you.

(also, the introduction of social media to my fic because i decided it would be cute to have them on socials)

“The journey is short, Miss Pyke. Do you really need to pack your things? It’s a 4 hour trip,” Mace Windu asked as he regarded the backpack on your back. Your trip with him before had at least been far away, so he understood the need for your dufflebag, but this time… Stars, you were staying in the Core Worlds region!

“Yes, they’re absolutely necessary, Master Windu!” you perked up as you swung the pack off your shoulders and started digging through. He was going to stop you, but you were already rattling off the information. “I’ve got my data pad, a notebook and pens, a book with some of the important areas of interest on whichever orbiting island, rations, first aid, some rope,” you rattled as you dug through the pack.

He was impressed you could fit it all in there.

“Why are you wearing… that?” he asked with a motion to your armour. You were getting faster at slapping the pieces on, and Gregor even said you were probably at the same speed as a new shiny at this point!

“Oh! Commander Cody insisted because he said Duro can be quite dangerous,” you said and tapped the 212th Attack Battalion symbol on your right thigh, the 7th Sky Corps symbol behind it in big sun rays. “Gotta follow orders, you know.” Your smile was bright, and Mace couldn’t even bring himself to roll his eyes at that.

“You stick out like a metal hand,” Ponds teased with a motion to your replacement. You stuck your tongue out at him as Neyo pulled the dropship into the much larger one that you were going to travel in today. It wasn’t the size of the Negotiator, but it was certainly impressive.

“You’re just jealous that I get bright colours and you’re stuck with a spot of red,” you retorted.

“Nothing wrong with red,” Neyo muttered as he walked up to you, undoing your seat belt swiftly. “C’mon. We’ve got places to be.”

You followed the laconic clone off the dropship, the others close behind, and he led you to a seat in the much larger bridge of this ship, strapping you in tightly.

“I can buckle myself, Neyo,” you said with a pout.

“Under strict orders to make sure you’re safe. Not going to risk it,” he responded, his voice low and devoid of emotion. You huffed and allowed him to tighten the straps. He lay a hand on your head when he finished, and you could just imagine his stupid grin beneath his helmet. “Good girl.”

You rolled your eyes at him, and he chuckled softly as he walked away. Immediately, you started reading through your notes and information on your datapad. You had done as much research as you could the week leading up to this mission, but without any specifics, it was difficult to know exactly what to look for. All Master Allie would tell you was that diplomacy was of the utmost importance. She needed you to translate for a meeting with an important informant, and you needed to know Durese and Huttese to do so. Luckily, you did.

Wooley had been a little more than concerned when you relayed the vague orders to him. You figured he was the one who put Cody up to the ordering of armour on this mission. Ponds and Neyo were both a little annoyed that Cody was being so dominating, but he was a marshal commander. Sure, Neyo held the same title, but Cody was sort of the mom of the commander group, and he didn’t want to be lectured for months to come if something happened to you. So he helped you tighten the straps of your armour and made sure you were buckled into your seat correctly.

“So, Master Allie,” you started slowly, raising your eyes from your data pad to look at the jedi. She was sitting across from you, a cup of herbal tea in one hand. The last time you were out with Mace Windu and the 91st, she hadn’t been there. But she worked with them often, apparently, and you were excited to get to know the healing jedi. You had heard great things about her from Obi-wan, and you couldn’t wait to see her in action. “Can you tell me now what to expect?” you asked her.

Stass Allie looked around, took note of those there, and nodded. “I couldn’t risk it in front of others,” she admitted, violet eyes focused on you, “but we are going to meet one of the workers for the Hutt cartel.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice a squeak. You knew the Republic dealt with neutral parties now and again, and the Hutts were technically unaligned at the moment, but they were evil. Word of their cartel had been whispered in plenty of dark corners in the underworld, and you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering a little.

“They have recovered some ancient knowledge for us, and all we have to do is something in return,” she said.

“What sort of something?” you asked.

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” she responded.

“But… what kind of information is worth it?” you asked her. She smiled and bowed her head slightly.

“The map to an ancient jedi temple that fell during the Great Sith Wars,” she said. Your eyebrows raised at that. So much information, so many places, had been lost during the Sith Wars. You weren’t particularly knowledgeable on the time period, but you knew it was a devastating time in Force user history.

“Oh,” you simply said. She nodded and repeated your word, both of you falling silent as you scrolled through your data pad again, this time with renewed fervor as you now had a direction to search in. Mace Windu appeared a couple hours later, taking a seat beside Stass, and they both watched you curiously. While you scrolled with your left hand, typing orders and clicking links, you quickly scribbled things down with your right in your notebook. It was a flurry of movement and they wondered just how much you were comprehending like that. But your writing was neat, and they didn’t want to distract you.

“We’re entering orbit, sir,” Ponds called out from one of the front seats. Mace nodded and stood up, Neyo coming to unstrap you. You were glaring at him each time, but he didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t have to; you could feel his smirk. Ponds and Neyo joined you and the jedi generals. On the way to the dropship, you accrued a couple more clones: Bolt, Vision, and Winch. You offered them little smiles as you stepped onto the ship, and Vision gifted you a nod.

The 91st wore the same sleek helmet as Neyo, and it certainly was an intimidating look. You supposed that checked out, what with Mace Windu leading them. Stass Allie was just a bit shorter than them, so you felt like you were being blocked by all of these warriors while you just carried your data pad in your hand.

You comm bracer beeped, and you checked it with a little smile.

“How’s it going? Smooth landing?”

You responded back to Obi-wan with “Smoother than when Anakin takes the wheel.” He reacted to your message with a laugh emoji, and it warmed your heart when he responded.

“Take care out there. Call if you need help.”

You closed the little panel and sighed lightly to yourself, the group stepping off of the drop ship and onto one of the dozens of orbiting islands. This one reminded you of a street on 3287 in Coruscant that anyone with their head on right would avoid. Your little group got glares and curled lips, but you were there with an official invitation from the Hutt who ran the street. So nobody said anything. You had slipped your helmet on to hide your face away. Now that you looked at it, your helmet looked a lot like the 91st’s, except you had a spiky mohawk down the center.

“In here,” Mace said and motioned to a strip club. You all made your way in, and you were greeted at the door by a Twi’lek male who led you past the dancers and the packed patrons to a back room. The music was blaringly loud out here, and it was thankfully much more muffled when you made it to the back room. Your heart was pounding as you looked around the room.

The perimeter was filled with lounging members of the cartel, speaking to each other, smoking, drinking, laughing, as waitresses walked around to service them all. On a raised stage, however, a Hutt sat and laughed as you all approached.

“You are graced to be in the presence of Cheefdaz Fik,” the Twi’lek announced to you. You saw Mace bow his head respectfully, and you followed suit. Cheefdaz spoke, and the Twi’lek went to translate for him.

“With all respect, Cheefdaz, we have brought our own translator with us. Not that we don’t trust yours to do the job well,” Mace Windu said and motioned for you to step forward. You did, and you set your shoulders as you did. You had never been a timid thing, but you had to gain more confidence to do this job, considering the people you’ve met. So you set your shoulders back, your head high, and back straight.

Cheefdaz took one look at you and burst into laughter. “A miniature clone in odd armour? This is who you think will translate for me? They can’t even show their face,” he asked.

“The honourable Cheefdaz questions why you would bring a clone to translate for you. He would like to see their face,” the Twi’lek said. You looked to Mace, and he hesitated. He looked at you, and you could see he was calculating something in that curious mind of his. He nodded firmly, and you pulled the bucket off of your head. Cheefdaz’ laugh stopped immediately after he saw your face.

“Oh. This just got interesting,” he said and slightly leaned forward. You were uncomfortable beneath his gaze, but you didn’t let it show, instead hardening your face like you had seen the clones do so many times before.

“I assure you, Cheefdaz, I am more than capable of translating,” you spoke to him in Huttese. He chortled at that.

“I see you are! Excellent. I accept you as the translator. Why do you wear clone armor?” he asked. You stepped forward again, Mace almost stepping toward you, but he trusted you knew what you were doing. You smiled at the Hutt.

“It may look like it, but it is not. I am just a librarian. I work for knowledge,” you explained to him. It was much easier to disarm someone when you put it that way. Sure, you worked for the Jedi Archives specifically, but the institution only served to give you a way of gathering more and more knowledge. It was an insatiable hunger, and you were more than willing to continue feeding it. An ancient jedi temple could host a great amount of knowledge you could never find anywhere else.

“What’s with the armour then?” he asked. You laughed at that and waved your hand.

“I grew up in the lower levels of Coruscant, Cheefdaz. I know I’d rather be in armour than out in a place like this,” you said. He chortled and agreed with the sentiment before nodding to Mace Windu.

“Tell me, Jedi, what do you know about the Crymorah Syndicate?”

Mace Windu’s eyebrows furrowed as you translated it for him. “Not much. Nobody outside of the syndicates knows much,” he responded. You were surprised by the answer, but you looked at Cheefdaz, who stroked his massive chins and nodded.

“There is one of the syndicate who is threatening a very important base of mine. They have attacked it twice now, and they need to be stopped. If you can stop them, you can have the plans to your precious jedi temple,” he said. You translated it to Mace, who grimaced.

“What is the catch? Are they impossible to kill? Droids? What?” he asked.

“They have killed dozens of my men. From what we know, they’re a band of very tough and competent Iktochi,” he explained. You listened and furrowed your eyebrows. It seemed, once again, a little too easy. Mace must’ve had the same feeling because he smirked a little at that.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Pass along the information where to find them, and we’ll be heading out,” he said.

“Wait!” You called out, translating Cheefdaz’s huttese with ease. Mace looked at him with narrowed eyes. “If you want the plans, you’ll have to leave the girl with me as collateral,” you said, your eyes widening when you realised he meant you. One of his claws was pointed at you.

“Absolutely not,” Mace snapped back, a fist clenching.

“I promise no harm will come to her,” you translated.

“She is not part of the deal. The deal is we do you this favour and you give us the plans,” Mace said.

“How do I know you won’t just return with more jedi and forcibly take the plans?” you asked him, your eyes focused on Cheefdaz. You were trying to understand his game. You didn’t know why he wanted you, but Mace seemed particularly sensitive about it.

“How do I know you’re not sending us into a trap?” Mace countered, anger now evident on his face.

“You don’t. But if I am, then I have no doubt the jedi will come tearing my house down, and I have no need for that hassle,” you said and looked at Mace. “He says he wants me to stay or the deal is off.”

Mace Windu regarded you with narrowed eyes, sizing you up. His gaze was a little more than intimidating, and Stass Allie stepped forward to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay,” she said softly. Mace looked up at Cheefdaz.

“My men stay with her. If you harm any of them in any way, I will have your head on a spit roast,” he said. Cheefdaz laughed and nodded, waving his hand.

“Of course, I expected nothing less. I simply want to spend some time with her,” he said. You spoke the words, but that only drew curiosity to your mind. You looked at Mace and nodded.

“I’ll be fine, Master Windu,” you promised him. He pursed his lips and looked at your companions.

“I’ll stay with her,” Neyo said. You raised your eyebrows at that, figuring it would be Ponds with you and Neyo out on the field. But you knew that Ponds and Mace had a closer relationship. “We’ll keep Bolt with us, too,” Neyo added, and the clone stepped forward with a nod.

“We’ll keep in touch. If you haven’t heard from us every 6 hours, assume the worst and get her home,” Mace spoke lowly. Neyo nodded and confirmed the orders before Mace lay a hand on your head. He didn’t have to say anything. You smiled and nodded to him. Stass Allie cupped your cheeks in her hands.

“Stay safe,” she whispered and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little as you felt sparks tingle down your limbs. She winked at you and took leave with the others. Everything was a little brighter, a little louder, a little sharper. You didn’t know how, but Stass Allie boosted your senses.

“Zuzrori will show you to your apartment, librarian. But before we go, we’d like to know the name of our esteemed guest,” Cheefdaz said, the Twi’lek man stepping forward.

“Juniper Pyke,” you said. He chortled and nodded.

“An honour, Juniper Pyke. I look forward to your company these next few days.”

~ * ~

Zuzrori showed the three of you to the apartment you would be staying in. It consisted of a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. You immediately went to the bookcase to look at the texts there. You pulled a few interesting titles off of the shelf and brought them to the dining room table. The clones did a walk of the apartment, checking all the exits, before they took their helmets off and went to sit at the far end of the table from you. They pulled a deck of cards off the shelf and started a game as you spread your information material out. Neyo had his clone number tattooed beneath his left eye, and Bolt had a wide lightning bolt down the centre of his forehead, ending at the tip of his nose.

“So, what do you look for when you read like that, ROA?” Bolt asked, looking over at you. You supposed you looked a little frantic as you took notes, pictures, and flipped through books as your eyes quickly scanned each page.

“Anything and everything,” you said and looked up at him, taking a break. There was a pen sideways in your mouth, and you took it out to lay on the page, holding your place in the book. “Many researchers make the mistake of just finding information about a culture’s history, about the big events that happened to shape the world. But they shouldn’t ignore things like this,” you said and grabbed a book to hold it up. “This is just a book of bedtime stories that the Hutts read to their children. But from this book, we can see legends and fables, superstitions and childhood boogeymen. Sometimes a bedtime story is just a story, but more often than not, they have some sort of core lesson to be taught to the children. Or they reveal a prejudice that the race has as a whole.”

You flipped through the pages of Huttese, finding the artwork and standing up to reach down the table and show them with a tap of your mechanical index finger.

“This is Jonahl Arm-man,” you said. They looked at the man in confusion. He was glowing white, had 4 arms, and seemed to be floating above a dark cave filled with young Hutts. “In the tale, Jonahl Arm-man is a being who punishes Hutts who run away from home. He has 4 arms that can stretch and grab anyone with ease. He can burn brighter than a thousand suns. If a Hutt runs away, Jonahl will chase them down and kill them.”

“Kriff, that’s dark,” Neyo muttered, but he didn’t grimace like Bolt did.

“In actuality,” you said and moved your data-pad to sit beside it. There was a picture of a man who resembled the painting, except he had 2 arms. He was pure white, though. “This is Jonah Larmann. He’s an Arkanian-human jedi who was sent to capture a couple of runaway Hutts and return them home. His skin, like the skin of his people, is pure white and reflected the suns in such a way that they were temporarily blinded.”

You took the book and pad back as you sat back down.

“It’s things like this that make the culture a culture rather than just a political moment in history. If we can understand the culture of certain people, then we can more easily understand how they think, how they reason. We can figure out what their next steps are, and we can plan ahead of time. Just like how Master Windu knew that Cheefdaz was going to have his own translator and brought me along for integrity.”

Neyo was regarding you with a weird look, and you looked right back at him. “What?” you asked.

“You’re pretty sharp,” he said. Your eyebrows flew up.

“Was that a compliment?” you teased him, a grin growing on your face. He scowled and looked back at his cards. “Oh my stars, did Commander Neyo just compliment me?!” you demanded, laughing. Bolt chuckled a little, but his smile wiped away when Neyo shot him a rather intense glare.

You whipped out your phone and recorded a video. “Neyo, repeat yourself,” you said. He shot you a dirty look. “For history, for posterity,” you insisted. He looked at the brightness in your eyes and sighed.

“I said… that you’re pretty sharp,” he grumbled before burying his face in his cards. You turned the camera to face you, a hand raising to cover your grin.

“Commander Neyo noticed me,” you gasped softly. The video ended with Neyo shouting in the distance.

“Stop it!”

Cody chuckled as he watched the video on your InStarGram feed, sending the link to a few people. It spread among the clones like wildfire, and plenty of them teased the hell out of Neyo. You had a few accounts on the social media platform.

You ran the official one for the archives, simply called “Jedi_Archives”. You ran a meme one called “Archive_Deep_Dive” that memed things that you found in books and lore. But your personal one was “Just_ROA_Things”. Your name was “Sometimes Pyke, never Pichael” and you posted just about anything you wanted to. Pictures of Waxer’s tookas, a picture with the Corrie guards, even a sneaky video with a singing Ahsoka as she danced around your kitchen.

You had slowly accrued friends on the platform, but nothing like after you started working with the clones. Apparently, they were pretty active on InStarGram, StarChat, and Twi’ter. It allowed you to keep up with them, and you loved it.

Your video was captioned “Finally noticed by @neyo8826, guess I’ll die happy then.” Neyo scowled when he saw it, but you saw him like your post regardless. You laughed and went right back to researching until your comms started ringing. You picked up the call, the disc sitting on the table in front of you. A tiny version of Obi-wan popped up.

“Hello, Master Kenobi,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Miss Pyke, what is this I hear about you parting from Master Windu?” he asked you. Your smile faded. He sounded upset. So you explained the situation to him. His eyebrow furrowed more and more as you spoke. “I’m coming to get you,” he decided, and you saw him start rummaging around as he spoke. “I can be there in 4 hours, and we’ll leave,” he said.

“No, you can’t. I can’t leave or we won’t get the map,” you said.

“You’re not going to be held hostage by a Hutt if I can help it,” he retorted.

“I’m not! I’m here so that we can have the map. Please, Master Kenobi. This is important to Master Allie, and we haven’t been harmed,” you said. He raised an eyebrow at that. “As far as I can tell, Cheefdaz is just interested in my ability to speak Huttese. But he swore no harm would come to us.”

Obi-wan sighed, and he nodded. “I will not take you away. But that does not mean I have to stand by and do nothing,” he said.

“General,” Neyo interrupted, and he moved to stand behind you. “If you come, he might take that as an act of aggression.” Obi-wan pursed his lips at that. “Sorry, sir, but there’s nothing you can do.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just stay here… and check in. How frequently is Mace supposed to check in with you?” he asked.

“Every 6 standard hours, sir. It’s been 3,” Neyo confirmed.

“Okay then. Call me after he’s checked in with you, commander,” Obi-wan said, and Neyo nodded, going back to his seat. “Miss Pyke,” he said and got your attention. “Please do not trust Cheefdaz at his word. There is more afoot, I know it. I want you to be careful, okay?” he asked. You nodded to him, and he smiled. “Very good. I look forward to hearing from you in 3 hours,” he said. You bid him farewell and hung up.

“He worries that much, huh?” Bolt asked you. You smiled and nodded, your cheeks gaining just a touch of pink as you returned back to your reading.

~ * ~

“The honourable and mighty Cheefdaz Fik requests your presence for dinner,” Zuzrori said when you opened the door to him a few hours later. You had done your check in with Mace and the follow up with Obi-wan. Neyo and Bolt had both relaxed a bit more around you. None of you were willing to take your armour off, but Bolt made jokes with you and Neyo even smiled.

“Oh! I could do with some dinner,” you said and looked at the boys who nodded. Neyo’s lips pursed, and he was smart enough to know that the request wasn’t really a request.

The three of you headed back into that big hall where tables had been set up. You took a seat across from Cheefdaz and on his left side, whereas his body curled off to the right. Neyo sat to your right, Bolt to your left. You were surprised to see Zuzrori not take the seat to Cheefdaz’s left, leaving a chair open. The others at the long table were slowly being filled in.

“We are expecting another guest of honour, and I will introduce you all when he arrives,” Cheefdaz said when you inquired about the seat. You nodded and fell silent. Until he started asking you questions. You answered them with a polite wariness, careful not to give too much away.

“I’ve lived my whole life on Coruscant. I am an archivist, you see, my whole life is dedicated to my work. Part of my job is coming out on these missions to experience and journal all of the cultures and people I meet,” you were explaining. Neyo had a protective arm resting on the back of your chair, his hand very lightly touching your opposite shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel much more safe. All three of you had your helmets close by.

“Do you not find the work exhausting? Surely there’s more to life than studying and books,” Cheefdaz asked. You laughed and shook your head.

“Quite contrary, sir. I am completely engrossed by my work. I have learned to speak so many languages that it is always a treat when I get to put it into practicality. Meeting other species is exciting. I met plenty when I was young, the only human in the neighbourhood,” you said, and he chortled at that. “But going to these other planets and being able to record my adventure is amazing!”

The door opened, and you turned to look at the newcomer in interest. A man strode in with an air of stark arrogance. He had a small smirk on his lips. Neyo watched him from the corner of his eye the whole time, and his hand moved from grazing your shoulder to fully on it now.

The man was tall, a couple inches taller than the clones, and the first thing you noticed was how remarkably similar to a human he looked, especially in comparison to the very-not-human looking species all around you. His skin was lightly tanned, and he had long, straight black hair. It tumbled down to his elbows, quite like your own. He had a short beard on his face, which was sharp and angular. He was incredibly handsome, if not a bit gaunt. The muscles on his body looked like tight cords, but they were hidden away by a long sleeve black shirt that was tucked into black pants. He was focused on you as he sat down.

“Hello, Cheefdaz. Sorry I’m late. Traffic,” he joked. His voice was low and gravelly. You noted the sword on his hip that he had to adjust slightly to keep out of the way.

“I am more than happy to wait!” Cheefdaz laughed at him, but the man had his odd, metallic grey eyes focused on you. You didn’t so much as squirm beneath his gaze, instead raising your chin just a little bit in a subtle act of defiance. You weren’t going to back down from a look.

“Let me introduce tonight’s guests of honour,” he called out over the hall, the music softening to let everyone focus on his words. “Welcome, Lady Argui Costa, a dear friend to the family,” he called out and motioned to the Chiss woman on the far end of your side of the table. The others clapped, and you did as well, but you didn’t look at her. You stared back at the man who refused to break eye contact with you.

“The brilliant and talented Quo-li Tellulah,” Cheefdaz said, and the opera singer stood as well as a Thisspiasian could to give a little bow to her adoring fans. The claps were louder this time.

“The Research and Outreach Archivist for the Grand Republic’s Jedi Temple, Juniper Pyke and her bodyguards,” he announced, and you raised a hand in greeting, but you still didn’t look away from the man. The others clapped politely, but you could hear mutters about the title. It was long and informative, and they were wary of a GAR worker among them.

The man across from you had an intense glare, like he was trying to read your thoughts, but you knew that wouldn’t work because if he could read minds, he would hear Neyo warning him to look away before he loses an eye. Neyo’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and you took in a deep breath to keep your temper in check.

“And finally, my dear old friend, galaxy-renown bounty hunter, Jer’ik Lo.” The man smiled and stood up, bowing slightly to the people who muttered in awe and surprise. They had heard tales of the man, but they had never seen him. He sat down and offered you a warm smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Juniper,” he spoke in Galactic Basic, his voice accented. You weren’t sure why since every fibre of your being wanted to slap the smirk off of his face, but you smiled and nodded back politely.

“A pleasure, Jer’ik.”

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sebastianshaw · 3 years

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House of M fic

( @sammysdewysensitiveeyes @the-home-kvetch Toad has a cameo in the second section and Pyro in the third. They basically disappear after that, though, then reappear at the very end for a brief but heroic mention , so if you only want to read those parts I shan’t be offended! I read a lot of stuff only for my own faves and then tap out, lol! The Gai are not Marvel canon. I needed some Generic Alien Invaders, so that’s what I came up with!) “So, now that you’ve seen what A.I.M. can truly do. . . can I count on your continued support?” Dr. Monica Rappaccini knew that she had taken a big risk bring a civilian to their Australian base and revealing so much of their operation here. But this civilian, a Ms. Radha Dastoor, given the moniker “Haven” years ago for her good deeds, had the same goals as her---human liberation from the boot of mutantkind. And what set Haven apart from so many other “sapiens” who wished the same was her resources; the woman was ridiculously rich. She’d already been a generous donator to A.I.M’s more. . .legitimate faces, mainly concerning supplying disenfranchised human communities with medicine, clean water, and access to education. And some of her gifts had gone to these, as had been promised, but many had actually been funneled to A.I.M itself for its more. . .radical usage. Indeed, Monica was willing to bet a fair few pieces in this very facility were purchased indirectly by the unwitting Ms. Dastoor. But she wasn’t unwitting anymore. Monica’s agents had been easing her into more and more illicit aspects of their activism. While she didn’t seem ready to condone violence, she had expressed that she did not condemn it in an oppressed people either, just has she not condemned mutantkind for the same before the world’s tables had turned. Monica felt in this woman a kindred spirit, someone who wanted to even the balance, to help the helpless, and who, despite her pacifist demeanor, understood more deeply than she let on that breaking--or blowing up---a few eggs was a necessary ingredient in that omelette. She just couldn’t say so publicly, or the Red Guard would have her head in a second. Even her peaceful, benign activism surely had her on a few watchlists just because of how prominent she was. But here, she could speak freely. And Monica thought she knew what she would say. Monica thought wrong. Now, if Haven had had something affecting her mind, say a demonic entity of evil and chaos speaking to her at the most vulnerable moment of her life, Monica might have more than likely swayed her. But being in a stable mental state — “I am truly sorry, Dr. Rappaccini,” she said, and to her credit she did look it, “But I cannot be party to this methods. I understand the desperation that has driven you to them, and I even admire the---” “How can you say that?” Monica demanded, “After all I have shown you?!” “It is because you have shown me, Dr. Rappaccini, that I--” Haven was cut off again---this time by the klaxon alarm blaring throughout the building. ***

The Red Guard was storming the base. The technological hurdles had been considerable to get over, but once those were overcome by the tech division---S.H.I.E.L.D’S mutant technopaths helped considerably with that---the sheer physical power of the agents was practically bulldozing the poor A.I.M guards. Agent “Toad” Toynbee used his agility to spring off the walls and land on the agents shoulders, jumping from on to the other, knocking them off balance with each landing, allowing his fellow agents to hit them while they were distracted. His comrade and friend Agent “Nightcrawler” Darkholme used his teleportation to scout ahead, Agent “Marrow” Rushman punctured organs and blocked guns by firing bone spikes right up the weaponry barrels, while Agent “Rogue” Darkholme and Agent “Diamond Lil” Crawley simply barreled and brawled their way through every body in their path like the bruisers they were. “Too easy!” Crawley bragged as she slugged one of the guards, who had practically been propelled into her fist by the thrust of Toad’s feet. “Precisely”, concurred Director Shaw gruffly, and he grabbed the nearest scientist before the cowering woman could flee. They were deep in enough that the brains the operation were starting to be sighted between the garish yellow A.I.M. suits. And unlike those suits, the white coats over office casual clothes worn by the scientists exposed skin. Just hands and faces, the occasional legs from beneath a mid-length sensible skirt, but that was more than enough. “Agent Darkholme,” he said, and though he did not specify WHICH Darkholme he meant, Rogue knew it was her. She removed a glove and brushed a single finger against the woman’s whimpering face for the briefest of moments. If Shaw wasn’t telling her to dig deep, that meant she didn’t have to, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to go sucking someone’s whole psyche into hers just for fun. But she got enough to confirm what Shaw was suspecting---a trap. “We gotta get out, y’all!” she exclaimed, the whites of her eyes widening, “If someone gets past the guards, there’s orders to blow the place to kingdom co---” *** The clearing that had once been green and dotted with trees was now scorched black, dotted with flaming wreckage of what had once been the AIM base and the bloodied, moaning remains of what had once been its members. “Save any survivors you can!” Shaw barked, “We need them for interrogation! And Allerdyce, get out here and get the fires under control! This is potoroo country!” Shaw, Rogue, and Crawley all possessed mutations that allowed them to survive the blast, allowing Nightcrawler to only need to get Toad, Marrow, and Pyro out, which he could do in one trip, albeit an exhausting one, and on to the safety of their jet. Thus, they were all safe, though Darkholme was winded and done for the day. Hearing Shaw’s command over his earpiece, Agent St. John “Pyro” Allerdyce made a swift thanks to his teammate and ran out to push the flames back from touching the rest of the forest. Potoroos were a protected species, and their safety was of utmost importance in the House of M! Meanwhile, Rogue and Crawley dug through the wreckage, the former tossing car-sized hunks of metal aside like pillows and the latter just punching a path through it, as Marrow pinned down anyone who attempted to flee using bone spears---through their clothes, since Shaw insisted on them alive—and Toad tripped them up with his tongue before pulling them back so their leader could place them in cuffs. “That’s all of them!” the amphibious mutant proclaimed proudly as the last yellow-suited AIM member—the last MOVING one, anyway---was hauled into the jet. “Clear out then” Shaw ordered, surveying the scene a final time. Something caught his eye. “Wait---Allerdyce! Those flames there, in the center---get them somewhere else, there’s someone caught in the center!” “Get them somewhere else, he says, like I can just freaking teleport them or some shit,” Pyro muttered, but he cleared the flames, revealing indeed something who had been surrounded by them. It was a wonder that her long hair and salwar kameez---yes, Pyro know the term for it, thank you---hadn’t been caught alight, but more miraculous by far was the way the wreckage encased her in such a way that she had been protected from harm. She just also couldn’t get out. Not on her own, anyway. Shaw strode towards her, flanked by the flames that Pyro had pushed aside Moses-style. He took the cage apart carefully, knowing that pulling out the wrong piece could bring the whole thing crashing down on the woman inside. It wouldn’t have mattered much to him if this had just been another AIM flunkie; they had more than enough for the Psy Division to scan for intel. But this woman. . . he recognized her, and he didn’t know what she was doing here---though he had a hunch---and he wasn’t about to let her be hurt. Not until he had the full story. “Don’t try anything, dirtbag!” Marrow hollered, coming to Shaw’s side as the last of the metal prison was removed from the soon-to-be prisoner, bones ready to hurl should she make one move that the mutants didn’t like. “That won’t be necessary, Agent Rushman,” said Shaw calmly, not looking away from the woman, to whom he reached out a hand, “Can you stand? Please, let me help you. There we are. Lean on me. We’ll have you treated for any injuries immediately. And. . . Radha Dastoor, it is my duty to inform you, that you are under arrest.” *** The AIM prisoners had been brought in, read their rights---such as their were---and the charges brought against them, given their prison jumpsuits, and put in holding awaiting prosecution after the Psi Division got through them. That was what counted for interrogation these days. The crude, ineffective ways of sapien grilling and guesswork were over. But Director Shaw still speaking with one of them personally. Just one. “Our telepaths confirm your story, Ms. Dastoor,” he said. The pair of them were seated on either side of a table. Shaw was still in his uniform. . . Haven, in her newly issued one. Orange was a good color on her, though perhaps not fitting in this amount. She was cuffed as per protocol, and while Shaw did things by the book, his eye twitched slightly at the sheer absurdity of it. But he did not remove them. He didn’t get where he was by making exceptions. “We know you were not knowingly in league with Dr. Rappaccini,” he continued, “But we also know that you did knowingly aid and abet several illicit activities.” “Yes,” Haven replied calmly, with neither coldness nor defiance, but nor any submission or remorse, “I did.” It was matter of fact, and perfectly polite. “Your forthcomingness strengthens the decision I’ve made,” he said, his own voice also matter of fact, though his was more frank and detached, “To advocate for leniency in your case. You have been cooperative, you have denied nothing---as some people do even when faced with their own memories as evidence---and, as noted, you were not involved in Rappaccini or AIM’s terrorist activities. Your crimes, rather, have been more along the lines of providing funds, food, and medicines to, say, illegal protestors. Given your history, I am inclined to believe you will not escalate to more extreme measures, and should not be considered a public threat.” “I appreciate that, Director Shaw.” “It’s not a gift, Ms. Dastoor. Merely my professional opinion.” “Nonetheless, I do.” “I do have to ask you now, because you will be asked on the stand---once you have served your time and are duly released, will you cease in all such activities?” “No, Director Shaw.” There was a long, grim silence. “Ms. Dastoor, I cannot give you my recommendation for a reduced sentence if I believe that you will re-offend.” “It would be very disrespectful of me to lie to you now, Director Shaw, just to help myself, after you have shown me such goodwill.” “There will be no goodwill, Ms. Dastoor, if you do not.” The conversation didn’t last long after that. He soon escorted her back to her cell. A private one, to protect her from the AIM prisoners. “You can ask the guards from anything within reason and it will be provided to you if possible. if you feel you have been mistreated in any way, get word to me and something will be done about it if your claim proves true. Shaw wasn’t bending any rules for her. None of this was outside the law, or even a gray area. It just wasn’t something he had ever told any prisoner short of the occasional foreign royal who had fucked up but still had to be handled with care to avoid political disaster. As Haven started to thank him for the courtesy, an alarmed voice called over the intercom, ”Director Shaw---the AIM prisoners! They’re all dead!” *** The one person that hadn’t been recovered from the base was the real prize---Monica Rappaccini herself. The assumption of SHIELD was that she had escaped before setting off the blast; the idea she’d simply been blown to pieces was too optimistic. In fact, neither was the case. Monica had a much safer plan than escaping the building---she’d stayed in it. More specifically, in a blast-proof container specifically survived to withstand it, which dropped down a shoot far underground where the bomb wouldn’t reach it anyway, and she wouldn’t be found by the accursed Red Guard. The fools---they hadn’t brought a psychic to sweep for any minds missing, but it wouldn’t have mattered, the tech was telepath-proof too. If only they could do that for the entire place, but alas, it was difficult, tricky, tended to only work on a small scale. But that was enough for her. Once the danger had passed, Monica emerged and got in contact with her best agent---Thasanee Rapaccini, aka the Scorpion. Monica’s daughter. In another world, her name was Carmilla Black and she worked for SHIELD, against her own mother! But in this world, Monica had raised her, and raised her well. She was a (mostly, usually, except for a hiccup) loyal agent to AIM and mommy dearest, and she wanted to see the mutant tyranny she’d grown up under fall as much as Monica did. But, like all teenagers, she could be a bit rebellions. Like questioning her mother. Something Monica would never have allowed her to do and survive if she hadn’t been her own preciously bio-engineered flesh and blood. ”Is that really necessary, mother?” Thasanee asked when given her new mission, ”They’ve already psy-scanned all the agents by now for sure anyway. What are they going to get from that lady’s mouth that they didn’t get from our guy’s brains?” ”It’s not about containing information,” Monica explained, ”It’s about public opinion. Haven can do more damage to us now than Magneto himself. She’s well-respected by the rest of the humans rights activist movement and even by many mutants. If she publicly denounces our cause, it will rob us of countless new recruits, funding, everything. She’s the most dangerous threat of all---a moderate. Do you see now? They’ll offer her a deal--leniency for collaborating with us, so long as she denounces A.I.M and everything we stand for. And people, even those who share our goals, our beliefs, will listen.” ”You really think she would?” Thasanee asked “I mean, all that good stuff she did for humans. . . maybe she’s just not cut out for our work. You’ve said yourself not everyone is. But that doesn’t mean she’d hang us out to dry.” ”I wish I had your faith in people,” Monica sighed, and it was true. She certainly wished she could be certain that Radha Dastoor wouldn’t do exactly that. But, she’d been so sure that Haven, who shared her cause, would join her and begin providing direct funding, and she couldn’t have been more wrong about that. So she couldn’t take a chance on Radha here either. ”And listen,” Thasanee continued, “If you’re worried about us looking bad, won’t we look WORSE if we kill her? I think that’s what REALLY would get people mad at us! Our own allies too! ”Thasanee,” Monica’s voice turned sweet, cajoling, truly motherly, as she put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and looked loving into the girl’s green eyes, ”My beloved child. I know this is difficult to understand. But Radha Dastoor dying mysteriously while in S.H.I.E.L.D custody would be very, very good for our cause. A peaceful activist, a nonviolent offender, a model moderate. . .and after her arrest by the Red Guard, who claim such a person was in cahoots with a terrorist organization, she dies while in their hands, and they try to blame that same organization? My dear. . .connect the dots the way the Average Joe would, and see what conclusion it brings you. The kind that makes the opposition look like the monsters we know they are.” Thasanee was a clever child, and she clearly got exactly what her mother was saying. Her conflict was clear on her face, her lip twisting in thought, her eyes flitting doubtfully downwards. But she reached the right answer, as Monica knew she would. ”I’ll do it, mother. You can count on me.” *** ”So what happened to them?” Jessica Drew asked as Agent Darkholme---Mystique, who had not been on the earlier mission---returned from attending to the matter of the AIM agents dropping dead. ”Chemical implant,” Mystique replied, “Rappaccini must have put it in them when they joined up with AIM. Probably to “motivate” them if they ever get cold feet. Or, in this case, fail her by getting captured.” ”G’awful way t’go,” Rogue shuddered. Whenever she had any doubts about what the Red Guard did, people like AIM reminded her who the good guys were. ”What I wanna know,” said Agent Crawley, “is who is this Dastoor broad, that she gets the royal treatment from Sebastian Stick-Up-His-Ass Shaw?” ”No idea,” Rogue said, putting her cooling coffee to her lips. “Before your time, daughter,” Mystique explained, ”Back when mutants were actively oppressed by humanity, before the rise of Emperor Magnus, Radha “Haven” Dastoor was one of the few sapiens on our side.” ”Our side?” Rogue looked intrigued. ”A sapien?” Crawley looked doubtful. ”Oh, she didn’t go all out for us, not by a long shot,” Mystique scoffed, “Don’t get the wrong idea---she was a peaceful protester. Didn’t get anything done. But. . .she did reach a lot of her own kind, or try. And ran with a very upscale crowd, so there was. . . influence, I suppose. Ran some shelters and such.” The blue-skinned woman sniffed slightly, torn between wanting to give credit where credit was due, but also not wanting to oversell the woman as a saint when she’d barely done the bare minimum in Raven’s view. ”Anyway. Now that the tables have turned, so has she. She’s all about her OWN kind’s rights now. As if things are as bad for them as it was for us. Ha! Not even on our best day back then, were we ever treated with the grace that Magnus has granted THEM. But trust a human to not even be able to stomach a DILUTED taste of their own medicine. She shrugged her azure shoulders, “But since Director Shaw is old enough to remember her work---such as it was---I suppose he thinks she’s earned some professional courtesy. And he is, after all, nothing if not professional.” *** As promised, Haven was well treated while she was held at the Australian S.H.I.E.L.D base. She would be taken to Genosha to stand trial tomorrow, but in the meantime. . . In the meantime, Thasanee Rappaccini had spent all evening infiltrating the base successfully without setting off any alarm to her presence. It was no mean feat, as one might imagine, but she had been trained for this from birth. Not infiltration specifically, but anything and everything relevant to taking down Magnus’s mutant-supremascist empire. And, much like how many unlucky souls never noticed a scorpion in their shoe before it was too late, this Scorpion had creeped in subtle as a shadow, unheard and unseen and undetected by man, mutant, or machine. And now. . .now she had a clear shot with her Stinger, as she called her left arm from which she fired energy bolts containing concentrated toxins. Like the Rappccini’s daughter of myth, Thasanee was literally poisonous. Yeah, she was pretty sure her mother hadn’t been born with that surname. Haven didn’t even notice as the slim girl slid into the room. She was busy tending to a flower in a pot, to Thasanee’s surprise. Who had given her that? Scorpion had expected to find the captive in chains, not--- BOOM! CRASH! The entire base rocked as Scorpion’s eardrums rang, and it wasn’t just shock that made it difficult for her to keep her balance. Thas had a clear shot, not for any gun but her Stinger; the name she had given her left arm, from which she fired the accumulation of toxins and poisons her naturally immune body stored in her left lymph node. Then crash that rattled entire base. A klaxon began to sound, reminding her unpleasantly of the one that had blared throughout the AIM base before its destruction. Yells, shouts, and more smashes reached her ears through the alarm as well. Thasanee had just enough time to wonder if her mother had sent Adaptoids to attack the place before one of the hulking culprits burst through the wall, sending Thasanee leaping into the hiding among the dust and debris; she could hear Haven cough from the same, but, she noted, the woman never screamed. Odd. Maybe she was too petrified too. She’d seemed like such a refined ladylike priss, Thas would have thought--- The Gai. That’s what was causing all this. Thas had encountered them a few times before. They were alien invaders, huge and monstrous, looked part insect and part reptile with a turtle-like shell from which their six limbs extended. Some wore additional hi-tech battle armor but this one was bare. All of them were the same thought; they didn’t care who they killed, only that they killed everyone. Human or mutant, warrior or prisoner, all Earthlings were the same to them. Something to be wiped out. Why, no one knew yet; telepaths couldn’t get in their heads and they were seldom in the mood to talk, though Haven seemed to be trying as the beast advanced. Thas was about to--- BONK! It was an almost comical sound, followed by a crack, as the force from Director Shaw’s fist collided with the stone-like shell of the Gai and, a moment after impact, splintered it. Where did he come from?! Scorpion wondered, then saw he must have rushed in after it through the hole it left, then leaped on to its back to strike his blow. And then another. And another. He was hitting it with every step he made over its back, but once he got to its head, it tossed him like a rodeo rider being thrown from a bull before he could punch its ugly skull in. Scorpion wasn’t sure who she was rooting for. Shaw was launched into the bars of Haven’s cell, and they bent in under the force of his indestructible body like overcooked noodles. Haven, luckily for her, had moved out of the way, and he wasted no time getting in front of her as the Gai advanced. Scorpion wasn’t sure how smart the Gai were--no one knew if they were sapient beings or merely mindless drones sent down to fight by a greater intelligence---but she for one thought it must be thinking how convenient it was that Shaw had taken down this obstacle for it. Until he wrenched off the end of a bar and impaled it through the Gai’s bulbous multifaceted left eye. However alien this creature might be, it had a commonality with most beings on Earth, which was that getting a long sharp metal rod jammed into your skull was an unpleasant sensation, and the Gai responded in kind, reeling back and . . .shrieking? Scorpion wasn’t sure that was the right word for it. She wasn’t sure there was a word to describe it. Like all the sound files in the world glitching at once. She had to cover her ears, but Shaw was apparently part deaf---it was the only explanation---because he didn’t even pause as he grabbed Haven and ran. Scorpion was fairly sure he didn’t see her on the way out though; the Director clearly had bigger things on his mind. Like the Gai, which was more dangerous than ever as it thrashed around in pain. Scorpion supposed to humane thing was to put it out of its misery. . . not to mention, it’d be valuable to know how susceptible they were to poison. . . But she had a target already, and it had just breezed by her in a bright orange jumpsuit. No time for mercy kills; Scorpion followed them. She didn’t notice who was following her too. *** Shaw lead Haven at a rapid pace through the sleek corporate-esque hallways of the building, which were even more rapidly being destroyed. They dodged the claws of more Gai, huge chunks of falling walls and ceilings, sprays of crumbling dust that she might inhale. . . or rather, Shaw dodged the claws and dragged Haven with him, shielded her with his force-absorbing body from the falling walls and ceilings, and commanded her to hold her breath through the crumbling dust from the destruction. He faced a few more Gai on the way out, and while hurting them was easy once they provided him with enough energy, keeping Haven safe---his priority---was difficult to do in tandem. But Shaw was professional, and Shaw was experienced, and Shaw not only got her out alive, she didn’t have a scratch on her. “Everyone good?” he said into his ear piece as he steered Haven towards the door that would lead them out at last. In addition to guarding her, he’d been guiding the Red Guard and the rest of the personnel as best he could over the communicator. “I’m getting the prisoner secured, after that we can---hello?! Over?! Over?!” The line had gone dead. It could be an accident during the destruction. But Shaw wasn’t sure about that. He’d figure it out soon. Getting Radha Dastoor to safety came first though. And he believed he had succeeded. They made it out the front doors, to the jet, into the jet--- And then Shaw cried out and fell to the floor, green toxic energy crackling around him. Not the kind he could absorb, either----it was pure concentrated poison. Scorpion stepped out of the shadows. “Took you long enough, old man,” she said, “I made it out way sooner. Of course. . .” Her eyes traveled to Haven, her real target. “. . .I didn’t have a load to carry. You must be tired from that; please, don’t get up.” She fired another blast into Shaw, who had been rising to his feet, despite the fact the first should have been enough to kill him. Haven cried out this time in front of Shaw, throwing herself in front of his fallen form, begging Thasanee to stop. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to you,” Scorpion assured her, “But before I do, I want to know one thing from him.” She addressed Shaw again, “Why has a mutant fascist pig like you been risking your life to defend a human? I saw you in there. You protected her. Why? Is it because of what she used to do for you guys? Has she been a double agent all along? Is she really a mutant?”

“Because. . . “ Shaw croaked, using all the strength he had left just to lift his head as Haven knelt down beside him, “She. . . is the State’s prisoner. And I. . . am a representive of the State. Of SHIELD. Of Emperor Magnus. It is my duty. . .to protect those in our custody.” He took a moment to breathe, and then continued, less labored this time, but still unable to do more than speak. “I find her activism sentimental soft-minded tripe, and I will see her stand trial for the parts of it that break the law---but I shall NOT see her harmed while she is still my responsibility. Not by the Gai, and nor by YOU.” “Wow,” Scorpion said, and she was genuinely impressed, “Ok, so----I don’t take back that you’re a mutant fascist pig, but you’re a mutant fascist pig with some honor. Not gonna lie---I’m surprised. Enough that I’ll let you in one something before you die---I’m not going to kill her.” Both Shaw and Haven looked shocked. “Yeah,” Scorpion said, and answered the question she knew they must have, “My mom wants her dead, and I was sent to do that, but like. . .I’m just going to fake her death, get her out of here, set her up somewhere. That way--” She turned her gaze specifically to Haven, “That way, you can’t denounce us---if that was ever even your plan---without A.I.M knowing you’re alive and killing you for real, so you won’t, right? And I don’t have to kill you for something you haven’t even done, and maybe were never going to. Everybody wins. I mean, except grandpa there, but I count wiping out one more SHIELD fucker---the Director, no less!---a win. Talk about cutting the head from the snake; he’s one step from Emperor Magnus himself!” “I wish I could be proud of you for this, daughter.” As if she had teleported, Monica Rappapccini appeared before her daughter. Who, judging by her reaction, had NOT been expecting this. ”Invisibility device,” Monica tapped a metal bracelet on her wrist, “I’ve been by your side this whole time. And you were doing so well, too. . . .up until now.” She sighed, “I know adolescence is a time to question authority but you have to follow orders even if you find them difficult. That’s really more what this has been than anything---a test to see how far out of line you’ve fallen. The scientist in me, always having to test a hypothesis before I consider it proven. “ “Well, consider it proven, Mom!” Thasanee barked back, her feelings akin to how a normal teenager might react to finding out her parent had been in her room, “Now what! Going to kill ME too?” “Don’t be silly, you’re far too valuable,” Monica tssked, “As are these two as hostages. Dastoor for her money, Shaw for his political worth to the House of Magnus and SHIELD---much as I truly would love to slaughter him in so many ways. Indeed, I think I might just do that anyway once he’s served his purpose. He deserves it. Do you know how many people he has---” And that was when Exodus, Toad, and Pyro teleported onboard and saved the day. They made short work of Dr. Rappaccini, but alas, Scorpion got away. Shaw made a full recovery after receiving medical aid. And Ms. Dastoor awaits trial for her crimes.

#fic #writing #house of m #hom fic

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years

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Irreverent Pt. 32 - The Ball

Title: Irreverent Pt. 32 - The Ball Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 3024

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Jack had had a sleepover the night prior and his friend had just left. The two boys barely slept all night and you and Hotch could both tell that Jack was exhausted. So, at the first sign of a yawn, you nudged him towards his room for a nap. You'd come over in the morning to help with breakfast because Aaron had been on his own the night before. You would've joined, but he'd insisted he could handle it and had pushed you to go hang out with Penelope and Emily instead. You hadn't told the team - even Emily - about the two of you yet. It had only been a couple of weeks since your first date and both of you wanted to keep this to yourselves for the time being.

You had, however, discussed telling Strauss. With the Ball nearly upon you, you figured you should tell her and make the relationship official sooner rather than alter to avoid having it seem as though you were hiding it. Aaron had agreed, though you could tell he didn't love having Strauss know his business. The two of them still had somewhat of an antagonistic relationship ever since she'd questioned his ability to lead the team soon after his divorce. When he'd told you about this, you'd been shocked. That would have been right around when you joined the team, and while yes he had been more subdued and quick to anger those first few months, you had hardly seen reason for Strauss to have questioned his leadership.

"Jack's asleep," you told him, when you found him in his room, finishing up folding the laundry. The yawn you'd been suppressing for a while finally came out.

He smiled at you as he folded the last shirt. "Sleepy?"

"Mm a little. Emily is seeing someone new and so of course Penelope pulled out her computer and now I know that he has a cousin in Utah that was arrested for a misdemeanor charge in 2006," you explained, as you helped him put the clothes away in his closet. You appreciated that Aaron was a very neat and orderly person. Everything had a spot and it was just how you would've done it yourself.

"Well," he said conspiratorially, as he came and hugged your from behind, "Jack is taking a nap. We could also take a nap."

He was holding you so close and he smelled just like his Irish Spring soap and musk and something sweet that was uniquely him. "I hope you actually mean a nap," you mumbled, as you felt his lips against your neck "because that sounds amazing."

He gave a low chuckle as he dragged you over to the bed so you both could lay down. You laid down right next to him, his arm under you as you slung an arm over his stomach and your leg over his. You were quiet for a few minutes, as he tried to let you actually sleep. His hands played gently with your hair and Aaron always ran so warm it was like sleeping with a personal heater. However, now that you were actually lying down, sleep was elusive. You tilted your head up to see him watching you with a slight smile on his face.

"That's not sleeping," he murmured, as he continued to gently massage your head. You'd always liked having someone play with your hair - it was so soothing.

"I'm not actually sleepy anymore," you admitted with a small pout.

"Hmm." His voice was still low and quiet, in the hope that you might be lulled into a nap anyways.

You reached up to his face, a single finger tracing the outline of his face, down his perfect nose, across his pink lips. You'd really allowed yourself to appreciate him lately and it continued to amaze you how breathtakingly beautiful he was. Part of you couldn't believe you hadn't noticed it before but the other part knew that you hadn't let yourself go there. He seemed to be enjoying your exploration as he closed his eyes and just let your fingers ghost over his features.

"Aaron?"

"Mmhm."

"Where do you want to be after the BAU?"

He opened his eyes to look at you, not expecting the question. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know…I guess with the Ball approaching and us talking about my career and future and all that…I guess I just kind of wondered. What's next for you?"

He let out a large breath as you sat up slightly on your elbows to look at him properly.

"I don't know. When I first started I wanted to do the whole move up thing, but the longer I'm here I don't know if I'm suited for that." He had a far away look on his face - like it was a thought from so long ago that it was entirely removed from the person he was now.

"Why not?" you asked, as you watched him carefully.

"It's a lot of paperwork and a lot of…difficult decisions. With the BAU it's more clear cut - we catch bad guys. Occasionally things are more complicated, but overall I feel like I do good in the world and I get to go home and not worry about the politics of moving up."

"Hmm," you said, coming back down to lay on his chest again.

"What is it?"

"I think Director Hotchner has a nice ring to it," you shared, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Director?" You could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, you'd be a great Director for the Bureau." You really truly believed that. He was such a great leader who commanded respect - yours and everyone else's.

"Well I'm glad I have someone's vote," he laughed, trying to brush off what you'd said. That was an ambition for the old him - the one that had just had a kid and was married to Haley and had a whole life in front of him.

"You'll always have mine," you confided, as you hugged him closer, burrowing in more to his side. "McKinney should be scared."

He had a really soft, perfect, I-am-Aaron-Hotchner-and-I-make-women-swoon smile on his face as he looked at you. Aaron brought his arms around you at that, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sure he's shaking in his boots as we speak."

*------------*

The meeting with Strauss had gone as well as could be expected really. You and Hotch had asked to meet with her early in the day, before anyone else got there and when you'd explained that you needed to declare an official relationship, she hadn't seemed all that surprised. Which was surprising to you at the very least.

"Have you told your team yet," she'd asked, as both you and Hotch sat in her office and filled out the required paperwork.

"No, not yet." Aaron had responded quickly, not looking up as he said it, concentrating on filling out all the details.

You smiled and looked at her, knowing you had to compensate for his utter dislike of this whole situation. "We just want to keep it to ourselves for now," you'd explained. "It's hard enough working with profilers without everyone knowing everything."

She'd nodded understandingly, but added, "Well, I doubt anyone would be too surprised. I wouldn't wait too long if I were you."

Aaron had simply smiled and stood up, but Strauss asked you to stay behind for a moment.

You looked at her in question as he walked out and closed the door behind him.

"You should know that this could impact the tapping process. I will do my best to ensure that it doesn't, however situations such as this can raise some eyebrows. Are you sure about this?"

You thought about what she was implying, turning to look at the seat Aaron had vacated just a moment ago, before looking back at her. "He's worth it." The answer came easily. It was just that simple.

*------------*

The night of the FBI Director's Ball came sooner than expected. You'd chosen to get ready beforehand with the girls, and the four of you had made a day of it. Aaron saw you when you entered the venue, having arrived only minutes earlier himself. You walked in with Emily and you were wearing a dark green gown which complimented you perfectly.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Aaron startled, only to see Dave standing next to him in a matching tux, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Sometimes he forgot that Dave knew, since the rest of the team still didn't. He grabbed the drink proffered by Dave and rolled his eyes good naturedly. No use denying he'd been staring. "How're you liking her odds tonight?" he chose to ask instead, changing the subject.

It was common knowledge that the annual Director's Ball was where up and coming talent was recognized. Aaron himself hadn't gone through the tapping process, but had heard of Bureau stars who were tapped at the Ball, go on to lead new taskforces, teams, and missions - have great careers within the Bureau and beyond it.

"Good," Dave responded, taking a swig of his drink. "I spoke with Erin about it and she still seems pretty confident in her recommendation. She did have to bring up the matter of you two to McKinney, and the final decision will be his."

Aaron nodded as he saw you approach with the rest of the team. Everyone had decided to meet up early on and grab a table together, so you all began to walk over. Aaron conveniently made sure to find himself right beside you. "You look beautiful," he said, leaning in just barely. He saw the slight blush rise to your face as he complimented you, his eyes running appreciatively over you again.

"Thanks," you smiled, "you look pretty good too." He really did. The man could always pull off a suit, but a tux was just a whole new level of attractive.

He pulled out your chair for you as the group found an empty table in the main room and grabbed the seat right next to you. Emily had grabbed the one on your other side and everyone else had found a spot around the table. Past years, the Ball had been nothing more than an excuse to drink and eat on the Bureau's dime and have fun with your coworkers. This year, however, you had to network and get to know other Section Chiefs and anyone who rolled up directly to McKinney. Both Hotch and Rossi had told you that having all of those people on your side was of the utmost importance. Aaron had already been helping you out in that regard, making sure to bring you along to some inter-departmental meetings and getting your name and face out in front of other leaders. You'd asked if he was giving you special treatment, as you couldn't recall him having done this for anyone else. However, he had assured you that he was not, and that if Reid or JJ to want to move along a similar path, he'd do the same for them. Prentiss and Morgan had a lot more experience and connections of their own, so they wouldn't need him to run interference as much.

Once dinner concluded, the string band started playing ballroom music. You all watched as some coworkers began to lead their partners out onto the dance floor. Derek quickly asked Penelope to dance as well, and the two of them were off, with Will and JJ joining them soon after.

"Alright kiddo, let's do this." Rossi reached for your hand across the table and you quickly accepted, allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor. He knew that with you, he'd at least be guaranteed a decent partner - Emily had both left feet.

"He's right, you know," Rossi said, as he gently spun you around the dance floor, "you do look beautiful."

You smiled. It was nice having someone know about the two of you.

"You really think I have a chance tonight?" Dave had some experience in this matter - more so than you or Aaron.

"They'd be idiots not to pick you." As he said this, the music changed, and Director McKinney had walked over to ask Rossi for your hand. Rossi graciously handed you off, swaying back to the table for his tenth drink of the night.

McKinney smiled at you and respectfully took your hand in his, his other at your waist. "Hello Agent L/N."

"Good evening, sir." Your heart was thudding in your chest, knowing this was the moment.

"You dance very well," he remarked, as he easily led you through the motions.

"I used to dance as a kid. Not easy to forget." You quickly flashed back to the numerous recitals and lessons - most of which your parents had missed.

"I see." He looked contemplative. Sighing, he says, "You should know, the recent revelation of your relationship complicated the decision making process slightly."

You choose to just nod, not trusting yourself to say anything constructive.

"However, I would like to inform you that you can consider yourself officially tapped."

You felt your heart jump as a large smile broke out across your face. "Thank you sir! I really appreciate it."

"You will be working with me directly. You should also know, the only reason this process was not pushed off the tracks is because it is Aaron you're with."

You looked at him in question, imploring him to continue.

"Agent Hotchner is above reproach. Were it anyone else, we'd have questions about the recommendations and reviews. However, I trust Aaron and so I trust that the two of you have done your due diligence and kept everything above board."

"We have, sir. Thank you. I very much appreciate the opportunity."

As he continues to spin you, you catch Aaron's eye over McKinney's shoulder. You quickly shoot him a grin and a wink, indicating that you got it. His face breaks out into the biggest smile, and you can see him making his way towards you through the crowd. He reaches the two of you right as the music changes, and seeing Aaron approach, McKinney stops.

"Aaron, good to see you."

"Director, how are you?"

The two of them shake hands and exchange pleasantries, before McKinney takes your leave to tend to other guests, promising to have his assistant get in touch with you very soon. Aaron takes that as an opportunity to grab your hand for the upcoming dances, pulling you in much closer than Rossi or McKinney had.

"Congratulations sweetheart," he whispers into your ear as he holds you close, swaying along to the music.

You look up at him and it takes everything in you to not kiss him right there in front of everyone. He catches the look in your eye, because he maneuvers the two of you to a corner of the dance floor where no one on the team is around. Squeezing your hand, he quickly looks around, before leading you off the end and out a side door. Having seen a supply closet across the way, he urges you to follow inside, closing the door behind.

Before you could take another breath, his mouth is greedily on yours, tasting you and drawing out a breathy moan, his name on your lips. Your back is pressed up sharply against a shelf, but the need to just touch him and feel him far surpasses the discomfort. You find yourself unbuttoning his shirt, just to be able to feel skin while he continues to explore your mouth.

His hands have worked their way under the dress and his hands roamed upwards and came in contact with your bare ass. Aaron pulls away, a little surprised at the thong, before returning to his exploration.

You'd managed to open up the collar of his shirt and move your mouth from his, resulting in a whine that turns into a moan as your lips come in contact with his neck. The desire to mark him as yours is something new you're experiencing, but your dedication to the task at hand rewards you with more sounds.

Not satisfied being alone in his ecstasy, Aaron's hand grazes over your breast, drawing a sharp inhale from you as a knot starts to form in your stomach.

"Do you like that?" his voice smooth despite him being a moaning mess a second earlier. You watch as his fingers ghost over your breast and your nipple hardens under his touch. "What about that?" He looks up finally to meet your eyes and his pupils are dilated beyond belief. Briefly you wonder what you must look like.

You'd never really pegged yourself for being much of a talker, but having Aaron talk to you as he touched you was definitely a turn on. You nod shakily, prompting him to cup your breast and run his thumb over the bud, maintaining his eyes on yours. You're afraid you're going to be too loud, so you reach up and kiss him again, allowing him to swallow your moans as he continues his ministrations. You can feel the dampness growing in your underwear and you swear you blacked out for a second when he breaks away from your mouth and takes a nipple into his mouth instead, biting gently through the fabric of your dress.

"Aaron!" You meant for it to be a sharp rebuke but instead what came out could really only be a groan of pleasure.

He looked up at you with false innocence, knowing exactly the effect he'd had on you. However, taking note of where you two were at the moment, he returns his attention to your mouth with promises of continuing later.

By the time the two of you leave the supply closet, trying not to look as though you'd spent the past thirty minutes engaged in intense foreplay, the party was dwindling down and your friends had been looking for you for quite some time.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotchner imagine #hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #irreverentseries

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

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Do we have a Byakuya giving Renji marriage advice fic? I'd love to read one!

I know this is gonna seem like I can’t read the prompt, because it’s 95% Byakuya giving Rukia marriage advice, but I just honestly think Byakuya trusts Renji on this, given that Renji has worked for him for years at this point and just sort of anticipates all his needs and understands him better than really anyone, and also, Byakuya does not understand Renji at all and has no idea how his dumb jock brain works. He knows exactly how Rukia’s brain works, though.

Anyway, I am back on my Byakuya-writing-letters bullshit, please enjoy some Sunday afternoon feels. I think it should be obvious, but this takes place the night after Rukia and Renji’s wedding.

❤️ 🥂 🎊

It was late at night, but Rukia couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement, maybe, the unfamiliarity of a new house, the evening’s pleasant alcoholic haze fading into the beginnings of a hangover. It certainly couldn’t be the idea of a new life entirely, looming in front of her like an iceberg, complete with a new name and all sorts of new possibilities. Primarily, there was a new bed and a new person who slept in it with her, and she found the idea of waking him up terrifying, so she slipped out from under the blankets and crept downstairs.

She was digging around in the kitchen, wondering if Renji had gotten around to making any pickles since he moved in a month ago (there was an entire cabinet full, wonderful man!), when she remembered the note.

Rukia had briefly flipped through the envelopes of wedding money they had received earlier. The one from her brother bulged, and when she opened it up, the bills inside were large. Renji got nervous in the presence of large sums of money and she suspected he would attempt to give it back, so put it away quickly to deal with later, but not before she noticed a sheet of paper tucked inside among the bills. It had only her name on it, in her brother’s finest handwriting.

After retrieving the note, she settled on the couch (which had been Renji’s but was now theirs because that’s how this worked) with the jar of pickles tucked beside her (the pickles were hers because they were the spicy kind Renji made specially for her even though he couldn’t eat them himself).

My beloved sister, the note opened.

It is my impression that one of the important roles of an older brother is to go before one’s younger siblings, to chart the unknown terrain of life, and to act as guide and mentor. My own marriage was characterized by deep love and joy in the face of hardship, and I hope that yours will contain all of its happiness and none of its heartache. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, I have no idea how I did it.

When our lots were first cast together, as you know, I declined to form a close relationship with you. This was a mistake on my part, born of the fear that you would remind me too much of Hisana. Later on, to my horror, I found the truth to be far worse-- although you do share some of your sister’s fine qualities, in personality, you bear a much greater resemblance to myself.

That being the case, I imagine that by the time you find this note, you will have tied yourself up into knots over whether or not you ‘deserve this’ or if you can ever be a satisfactory partner. We are very fine Kuchiki, you and I, Rukia. We are strong of body and of will. We are dignified in all we do. We devote ourselves to our duties before our else. Our hearts are strong and love strongly, but we hold them close, as we must. Our family is our pride, which, paradoxically, makes it nearly impossible to share ourselves with those we hold closest.

Your sister Hisana was an exceedingly stubborn person, who formed her own opinions of me, which may or may not have had any grounding in reality. She frequently told me that I was ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘sweet’ and a variety of other adjectives that no other thinking person would dare to apply to me. It is very difficult to live with such a person for long before you find yourself trying to live up to their misguided delusions.

As it happens, this is among the distressing number of personality traits my adjutant shares with my late wife. His optimism is endless, his vision is permanently rose-tinted, even when he insists upon wearing those horrendous goggles. Any yet, time and again, I have seen him bring out the best qualities in the horrible ne’er-do-wells under our mutual command. Indeed, if I have ever been a good brother to you, it is mostly due to his belief that I could be so. It is a verifiable fact that you are one of the best best souls in all of Soul Society, one would think it would be unimaginable to inflate your worth beyond its actual measure, and yet, somewhere, he manages that, as well.

How is one supposed to live up to these sorts of expectations from the person they love most of all? It is impossible. At least in my case, Hisana was quite aware that I am a pompous buffoon, whereas Abarai fully believes the sun rises and sets for your personal benefit. I am going to tell you something that may be difficult to hear: you have to simply deal with it. He is never going to stop. If you are truly as like to me as I suspect, you will rebel against this, your brain constantly trying to sabotage your happiness.

The fact of the matter is, Rukia, these feelings of inadequacy spring from the very fact that you hold him so dearly that your own estimation of him is also blown out of proportion. Do not misinterpret me. I am very fond of Abarai, but he is a mess. A disaster. You have probably never seen his filing system, but it would give you the vapors. (I do suggest that you take responsibility over that aspect of your household management.) Again, I sympathize. He is actually not nearly so bad as your sister, whom I once watched deface a centerpiece at a very fancy benefit dinner (the end result was extremely offensive and also very humorous). In my mind, she is still the most perfect person I have ever met.

Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you are plagued with none of the insecurities that troubled the early days of my marriage, and that I was only able to come to terms with once it became evident that our time together would be finite. I desperately hope this is the case, and if so, please do me the courtesy of destroying this letter, and forgetting all of this.

In either case, I wish you the utmost happiness with your horrible husband.

Your affectionate brother,

Byakuya

Rukia’s fingers clenched on the edges of the paper. The edges of her eyes were burning. How dare he do this to her, after all these years? How many times had they crossed paths in the gardens in the hours when they should have been sleeping? Since when did they need to say things in order to show how well they understood each other? Rukia had half a mind to march over there right now and punch him in his perfect face. He was most likely sitting out next to the koi pond this very minute.

“Thinkin’ of skippin’ out on me already?” a sleepy voice asked behind her, and Rukia jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“What? No!” Rukia rubbed at her hair and frowned apologetically at Renji, who seemed more interested in yawning. "I was thinking too loud and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Nah, my skull is too thick, I can’t even hear my own thoughts most of the time.” Renji leaned over the back of the couch, and Rukia guiltily folded her note in half. “Letter from Captain?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rukia excused. “Sorry. It was kinda personal.”

“I understand. I got one, too. It was less personal.”

A piece of paper dropped in her lap and as she was busy unfolded it, Renji grabbed her jar of pickles.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she protested.

“You don’t gotta tell me what your brother wrote to you,” Renji yawned, tucking the pickles under his arm. “But I think you should probably listen to him. He knows what’s he’s on about.”

Rukia looked at the piece of Squad Six letterhead in her hands. In precise, businesslike handwriting, it read:

To: Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain, Sixth Division

From: Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain Sixth Division

Re: My sister/Your pending wife

Lieutenant Abarai,

Please be aware that Rukia is prone to poor decisions when she has insomnia and it is in your best interest to prevent her from consuming excessively spicy and/or vinegared goods past a respectable bedtime.

Sincerely,

Captain Kuchiki

“Rat fink!” Rukia exclaimed.

“Come back to bed,” Renji implored, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I know some good ways to make your brain shut up.”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed grumpily. “I’m eating those pickles for breakfast, though.”

“I’m makin’ pancakes, but suit yourself.”

Rukia decided that maybe it was best to try and get some rest. She had a big rest-of-her-life coming up the next day.

#my writing #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #renruki #byakuya feels are the worst feels #but pining-for-his-dead-wife byakuya is the best byakuya #the paradox of byakuya

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chierafied · 4 years

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Polar Attraction (SKW2020D4)

This is for the lovely and super talented @rannyunny, who wanted CEO!Sess.

Your wish is my command. 😉

Also just so you know this kinda got away from me so it’s like 7,420 words. Whoops.

Also posted on AO3, Dokuga & FFnet!

Sesshoumaru stood in front of the wide window in his top-floor office, looking down at the glinting city lights spreading out before him in the night. He brought the glass of whisky to his lips and took a good long sip of the amber liquid.

The meeting had gone on for too long. The international sales executives had been annoying and obtuse and trying to explain the North American market to him as if he was a complete idiot.

Sesshoumaru had quickly divested them of such gross misconceptions, and promptly reminded them why he was the CEO of the company. Cowed though they had been after that, it had still taken time to come to an agreement on all the necessary details relating to the upcoming international release of their newest video game.

People, Sesshoumaru sneered, taking another sip of whisky. Dealing with them was exhausting.

Proud as he was of his accomplishments and how far they’d come, there had been an appealing simplicity in the old days when they’d only just been starting out. With Miroku having the great vision and ideas, and also the charm, he had dealt with marketing and hiring and every other annoyance requiring interpersonal skills. Sesshoumaru had been happily left to deal with the finances and the programming end of things.

But their business had grown exponentially from those days; their games had become household names across the globe and Sesshoumaru found himself a CEO of a multibillion corporation.

Which meant that now he, too, was forced to deal with people, at least whenever there was another meeting to sit in.

Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sesshoumaru had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. His father, a former warlord, was now the head of a formidable multinational electronics conglomerate that he’d first founded back in Meiji era. And though he had given Sesshoumaru and Miroku financial backing when they had been starting out, Sesshoumaru had paid him back every yen.

All of this, the company, the top-floor office, the CEO position, were of Sesshoumaru’s own making, which made them all the more precious.

He could easily have found employment in his father’s company.

He could easily have lived off his father’s money without pursuing any employment at all, had he so wished.

But Sesshoumaru had desired to make his own way, to come to his own power instead of relying on his father’s influence.

And in that, he had succeeded. Sesshoumaru’s lips curved, and he downed the rest of his whisky.

An important deadline to a big project they'd been working on the past two years was fast approaching. Everyone was working hard and long hours, doing their utmost to meet the deadline.

Even Sesshoumaru had left the lofty luxury of his top floor office and the daily grind of his administrative work so he could focus on his other strength: programming.

He'd commandeered a spare desk in the programming department and sat there, typing intently – one of the herd of his senior and junior programmers.

When asked to, he might flit around the room to troubleshoot or check out a code or help someone hitting a digital wall.

After wrangling a particularly stubborn piece of code to do what it was supposed to do, Sesshoumaru leaned back in his chair and stretched.

A youkai had not been meant to crouch in front of a computer screen.

He needed to get up and walk, his neck was starting to ache.

More importantly, he needed coffee.

He could have headed for the breakroom or one of the vending machines out in the hallway but he preferred coffee of better quality and the café on the ground floor should still be open.

Besides, going down to the café would allow him to stretch his legs.

Instead of the elevator, Sesshoumaru took the stairs. He walked down the five flights and the exercise helped ease the tension from his body.

For a brief moment, he longed to let his youki burst out, to transform and run… but letting loose like that in the middle of Tokyo would be to no one’s benefit, least of all Sesshoumaru’s.

A few key people here and there might have been aware of the existence of youkai, but the public at large remained unaware.

Even if they’d try to explain the incident away by claiming to be filming a new kaiju movie, giving in to his true nature would be a heedless risk.

Sesshoumaru stifled his growl.

He’d feel better after he’d get his coffee.

Sesshoumaru pushed into the lobby, but instead of making a beeline to the café as he had intended to, he came to a halt.

There seemed to be some kind of a commotion going on at the front desk. The security was there, frowning down at a woman.

Sesshoumaru wasn't sure which reached him first; the cold spark of purity that sent a shiver down his spine or the scent, so sweet and beckoning that for a moment Sesshoumaru's mind went blank.

Before his brain had quite caught up with his actions, he was already striding towards the front desk, his instincts screaming at him, his blood thrumming in his veins, his youki coiling in tight around him.

The security guards had noticed his approach and were standing at attention.

Sesshoumaru ignored them.

He stared at the woman facing them. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her cheeks flushed with temper, her blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, her wealth of dark hair flowing freely down her back.

She was the most magnificent thing Sesshoumaru had ever seen.

“What seems to be the problem,” he asked, his voice coming out a rumble, his eyes still trained on the woman.

“Sir, the miss here claims to be a relative of one of our employees and seems to have some concerns about his welfare. We’ve offered to contact his department to check up on him, but she’s very insistent about being allowed up to see her relative herself.”

“I just need to see that my brother is alright, with my own two eyes,” the woman snapped.

“Again, Miss, we simply can’t allow –”

“Has she offered you any form of identification?” Sesshoumaru cut in.

“I have,” the woman replied, her irritated gaze flickering to him.

Sesshoumaru met her eyes.

“And does that information correspond with that we have of her brother?”

The security guard shifted. “Sir, it does, but we still can’t allow her to go up unaccompanied and –”

Sesshoumaru slanted them a sharp glance and the security guard shut up.

Even with his instincts howling at him, he understood the risk.

He couldn’t detect any deception from the woman, anger and worry were the only things she seemed to radiate at the moment.

But she could have been an accomplished actress, with a plausible story and well-forged false identification.

She could have been a reporter after a scoop. Or something much worse.

Corporate espionage was a serious threat in this day and age.

But despite the risk, and perhaps because that sweet scent of hers wrapping around his being stirred his blood, he believed her story. Trusted her to be sincere.

“Very well. In that case, I will accompany her. What department is her brother in?”

“But Sir, I don’t think… Ah, the design department, Sir.”

Sesshoumaru gave him a brisk nod, then turned to the woman.

“Come with me.”

Kagome’s shoulders slumped in relief when the elevator doors slid shut. She was one step closer to Souta now and making sure he was ok, but she couldn’t fully relax yet.

She slanted a glance at the man who’d come to her rescue.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He gave her a curt nod.

She was all too aware of him, in the contained space they were in. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was startlingly handsome or the fact that he must have been one of the managers for the security guards to react to him the way they had… or maybe the weight of his lingering gaze pressing against her skin.

It could have been any of those things – or all of those things – but something about him set Kagome on the edge.

He had such a… presence.

“I’m sorry I was creating a commotion down there,” Kagome said.

When nervous, she had a tendency to talk. A lot.

“I don’t normally behave like that, it’s just that my brother never came home last night and his phone is turned off and when those guards didn’t listen to me I just got so mad…”

“I understand,” the man replied, his voice smooth and deep. “It is very natural to be concerned in a situation like that, and such emotions easily get the best of a person.”

She turned to him.

“However, irritating as the guards were, they were only doing their job,” he continued. “Competition is fierce and we’re working on a very important project right now. Any information leaking outside and to our competitors would be most unfortunate.”

Kagome blushed and looked down at her feet.

Now that she had had a bit of time to calm down, she realised how rude she had been at the front desk. She’d have to apologise profusely – after she had made sure Souta was alright.

“Shall we?”

Kagome started and found the man looking at her expectantly. She hadn’t even realised that the elevator had stopped.

“Yes. Sorry.”

She scooted out, all too aware of the man following behind her.

“This way,” he intoned.

Kagome had to walk quickly to match his large strides.

She frowned at his back, clad in an elegant suit.

What was it about him? Something nagged at her that she couldn’t quite make sense of; something sending her nerves skittering.

They came to a big, open-concept office. Even though it was getting late in the evening, most of the desks were still occupied. Some people were furiously tapping at their keyboards, others were muttering to themselves under their breath. Some were sketching or writing on bits of paper, others were conversing with one another, heads together.

And scanning the room, one familiar figure stood out to her from the mass.

“Souta!”

Her brother’s head jerked up and he turned away from his computer screen as Kagome hurried towards him.

“Kagome? What are you doing here?”

Souta’s eyes were rounded in surprise but soon they squeezed shut and he hissed out in pain.

“Ow, what the heck?”

Kagome let go of the shoulder she’d pinched and crossed her arms.

“I had to come to see for myself that you were still alive,” she said, her immense relief at finding Souta OK now turning into anger. “You had us worried sick!”

“What? Why? I told you I might have to stay late because there’s a deadline coming up,” Souta said.

“Staying late, yes. But you didn’t say you wouldn’t come home at all. And then you weren’t answering any of our calls and messages either.”

Souta dug his phone out of his jeans’ pocket and grimaced.

“Sorry. I forgot to charge it. Anyway, I’m fine, I worked late last night and then crashed in one of the break rooms.”

“I understand that if you need to stay late working it might be easier to just sleep over here at the office,” Kagome said, her tone gentler now. “But if you decide to do that, please let us know, so we won’t have to worry.”

“I will. I promise. I’m sorry, big sis.”

Kagome smiled and ruffled his hair. “Apology accepted.”

Souta grumbled and tried to smooth his hair back into place.

“Now go away, I need to work.”

“Love you too, Souta. Take care, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. See you at home.”

He’d turned back to his computer.

Kagome stared at the back of his head and sighed in affectionate exasperation.

Oddly, it was comforting to know that even if they were both grown up, her little brother still remained a brat.

It felt a little odd to just turn and leave; after making such a commotion she hadn’t even spent five minutes upstairs. But she’d done what she’d come here for, made sure that Souta was all right.

It was obvious that everyone was very busy, so Kagome walked back over to the elevators.

The man she had met in the lobby was still standing there just outside the office, waiting for her.

Her heart skittered again as she saw him, goosebumps blooming down her arms.

“Did you find your brother?” he asked, the deep smooth voice enough to send a shiver down Kagome’s spine.

“Yes, he was fine, just too busy with work to charge his phone or let his family know he’s well,” Kagome said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m glad everything was resolved,” the man intoned, then gestured towards the elevators.

Kagome resumed her walking and stepped into the elevator when it arrived. The man stepped in after her, and pushed for the lobby.

Kagome leaned against the wall of the car, feeling both exhausted and embarrassed now that she knew Souta was ok. There had been a café downstairs, hadn’t there? She’d have to go in and buy something there to leave at the front desk as an apology.

Startled, she realised that the elevator had stopped moving.

Biting her lip, she turned her head, only to find the man staring at her.

Having his undivided attention flustered Kagome. She could feel her cheeks warm as she dropped her gaze.

“Thank you so much for helping me out,” she said.

“You already thanked me,” the man replied.

“Well, I’m still very grateful,” she said.

He inclined his head. “The pleasure was mine.”

Something in his voice had Kagome’s breath catching.

Blushing furiously, she stammered a goodbye and then left the elevator, heading towards the café.

The man’s lingering stare made the spot between her shoulder blades tingle every step of the way across the lobby.

The woman didn't leave him alone.

Brief though their encounter had been, over the next week Sesshoumaru kept picking apart every word they had exchanged. Her expressions had been carved into his memory and he would study them to better discern her moods. He would replay the sound of her voice in his head, to a degree he was sure he had her tones memorised. He couldn’t forget that sweet light scent that had teased his nose.

Never before had he encountered anyone who had so stirred his instincts.

Briefly, he had wondered if the cause for such a reaction had been the frisson of purity he had sensed. Then he had decided against it – after all, miko could be said to be a natural enemy to youkai, so it made little sense that meeting one would cause such yearning.

Of course, a mere memory could not sustain him forever, so, eventually, Sesshoumaru had to move from thoughts to action.

He found her on social media, although it took him a while. She was a nurse. And single. Or at least she’d never posted about a boyfriend from what he could see.

For the longest time, that was where Sesshoumaru was stalled.

Sesshoumaru wasn’t sure how to proceed, what would be the best way to approach the woman he was longing for.

When, on one evening, he found himself semi-seriously considering faking an injury or an illness so that he might go to the hospital she worked at and orchestrate a way to meet her again, he knew that something had to be done before this woman would drive him into insanity.

He would do what he always did and approach the problem head on.

It was easy to find her address from the personnel files they had for her younger brother.

Sesshoumaru was well aware that it was an invasion of privacy, but sometimes the ends justified the means. And a forthright approach would at least have more honour than any way he might attempt to engineer an “accidental” meeting.

He packed his things, shot a quick e-mail off to Miroku, and left work early.

He didn’t know anything about the woman’s schedule, didn’t even know if she was working today let alone what shift she might be in.

But Sesshoumaru fervently wished that fate would be on his side, and he was prepared to wait.

He plugged the address into the navigation system of his car, then drove across Tokyo.

The Higurashi home appeared in fact to be a shrine – which, given that the woman was a miko, shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Sesshoumaru.

He parked near the curb, then looked at the long wooden staircase rising from the sidewalk, leading up to a torii gate.

Then, he settled in to wait.

Sesshoumaru didn’t know how long he sat there in his car, his window cracked open, his radio on to try and alleviate his boredom, with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel and his gaze trained on the sidewalk, never wavering.

Finally, the light tantalising scent he’d memorised teased his nose.

Sesshoumaru sat up straighter, then quickly got out of the car. Standing still, intent like the predator he was, he stared up the street and at the approaching figure.

She looked up just then, her blue eyes widening from surprise.

Her steps slowed but didn’t falter as she continued walking towards him.

Sesshoumaru’s nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent, his eyes becoming hooded for a few lingering seconds. He watched her approach; she was far lovelier than the memories he’d been cherishing.

He hadn’t even talked to her yet, and Sesshoumaru already felt that coming here had been worthwhile, simply because he had got to see her again.

She stopped at a respectful distance and fidgeted.

Sesshoumaru greeted her with a small bow. “Miss Higurashi.”

She mirrored the gesture, offering him a hesitant hello in return.

“I apologise for showing up unannounced like this,” Sesshoumaru continued. “It must seem rude to approach you like this, waiting around near your house, but I really wanted to see you again.”

Miss Higurashi blinked.

To Sesshoumaru’s relief, she appeared neither alarmed nor annoyed at finding him waiting for her. The emotion most clear on her features was confusion.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“First, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Nishizuka Sesshoumaru. And what I want is to take you out on a date. I’d like that very much, actually.”

Miss Higurashi was staring at him, as well as the business card he was holding out, her lips parted.

For a moment, silence reigned between them.

Then, Miss Higurashi found her voice, though it was squeakier than before and the words tumbled out in a stammer.

“I, umm, what? Really? Why?”

The corners of Sesshoumaru’s lips twisted. He was thoroughly charmed by the woman, and seeing her so flustered because of him stroked his ego in the most delicious way.

“Because I really wish to know you better,” he told her earnestly. “After our meeting, I haven’t seemed to be able to forget about you.”

She was blushing now, and Sesshoumaru couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Her fingers trembled as she accepted his card. She fumbled around her handbag for a moment before pulling out a business card that she offered to him in return.

Sesshoumaru accepted it gracefully, and ran his thumb over the hiragana spelling out her first name.

Kagome.

Warmth swelled in his chest.

“Your answer, Miss Higurashi?” he prompted, a smile curving his lips.

“I…” She bit her lip, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Then she looked up at him, blue eyes soft. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Sesshoumaru’s smile widened, and though he did stamp out the primitive urge to howl in victory, he couldn’t help the flare of his aura, trying to weave his youki around her.

“I’m glad,” Sesshoumaru said. “Thank you for indulging me, Miss Higurashi. I won’t take any more of your time. I’ll contact you so we can settle the details of our date.”

“Sure,” Miss Higurashi replied, still holding his card in her hand. “I’m looking forward to it,” she added, flashing him a shy smile.

“I am, too,” Sesshoumaru told her, his gaze intent on her, hoping to commit the sweetness of that smile into his memory. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised.

Then, he bowed and left.

Pulling out in his car, he looked into the rear-view mirror and found Miss Higurashi still standing by the shrine steps.

A rare bark of laughter bubbled up Sesshoumaru’s throat as a sense of euphoria the likes of which he’d never experienced before swept over him.

He had no idea what the miko was doing to him, why she was affecting him so.

And at this point, Sesshoumaru did not even care.

He was already craving more of it; more of her.

He couldn’t wait for their date and getting to see her again.

He’d have to get home soon so he could start planning.

Nothing short of perfect wouldn’t do.

His miko deserved the best.

Kagome clutched at the business card in her hand. Her heart was racing, but it had nothing to do with the stairs she was climbing. She was in a daze, still trying to wrap her mind around what had actually just happened.

The hot manager from where Souta worked had been waiting for her because he’d wanted to see her again. Because he’d wanted to ask her out?

She looked at the business card in her hand, just to reassure it was all real.

There was nothing on there but a phone number, and a name spelled out in elegant kanji.

Nishizuka Sesshoumaru.

It sounded faintly familiar, but Kagome wasn’t sure where she’d heard it.

Maybe Souta had mentioned it at some point.

Even with the proof in her hand, Kagome was having a hard time believing that the conversation from ten minutes ago had actually taken place.

Stuff like this didn’t happen to Kagome.

Sure, she had been asked out before – there had been Houjou back in high school and then Kouga when she’d been in university – but a hot guy she’d met by a chance purposefully seeking her out because he wanted to see again?

Unreal.

That was just something straight out of a movie, wasn’t it?

Kagome smiled at the card.

The butterflies were going crazy in her stomach and she wasn’t sure what to make of the tangle of emotions weighing in her chest. Her imagination was already taking wing as she couldn’t help wondering what their date would be like.

She needed to get home and calm herself down, Kagome decided, racing up the remaining stairs with light feet.

But even after she’d got home, taken a quick shower and changed into more comfortable clothes, she was humming to herself as she helped her mother prepare dinner.

She kept smiling to herself. Every chime of her phone made her jump, as she was desperately waiting for Mr Nishizuka to contact her, and she kept patting her shirt’s pocket where she’d stowed the business card she’d got.

Her mother made comment of her good mood, but other than asking if everything had gone well at work didn’t press for more details as to what had caused it.

Souta, of course, as younger siblings were wont to do, wasn’t as considerate.

They were all sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, when Souta set down his chopsticks with a frown.

“All right, sis, spill it. You’re so cheery it’s getting gross, what gives?”

Kagome, suddenly put on the spot, squirmed in her seat.

A part of her didn’t want to tell; she liked how right now it felt like a secret just between her and Mr Nishizuka.

But she also didn’t want to come up with a lie, so after some fidgeting, she did confess.

“Someone asked me out on a date today.”

“That’s nice.” Kagome’s mother smiled. “Was it someone from work?”

“No, it was someone from Souta’s work, actually.”

Souta nearly spat out his drink. “What? Who? How do you know anyone I work with?”

“I met him a while back when you hadn’t come home and weren’t answering your phone. The security didn’t want to let me in so he interfered and helped me out, took me up to the office to see you. He’s someone from management, I think.”

“Who?” Souta asked again, looking a little ill.

“Nishizuka Sesshoumaru.”

“Nishizuka…” Souta sputtered. “Kagome, that’s not someone from management. He’s the big boss!”

“Eh?”

“You have a date with the big boss?” Souta repeated, stunned.

Kagome felt just as confused as Souta looked. She reached for her pocket to pull out the card. It came out the flip side up, the side she hadn’t even noticed before.

On it, against a black background, was the familiar crescent moon logo and the name of the company Souta worked for, Luna Kabushiki gaisha.

Underneath were three simple letters that shook Kagome to the core: CEO.

Kagome stared at the card, still clutched by her shaking fingers.

Wide-eyed, she looked up from it.

Souta met her gaze from across the table, looking pale and shocked himself.

“He’s the big boss,” Kagome whispered, and just like that the whole thing became wholly surreal again.

Being asked out by the CEO of a multibillion corporation?

Definitely filed under things that simply didn’t happen to Higurashi Kagome and under unrealistic movie plotlines.

It did of course explain a lot of things – the way the security guards had acted, and why his name had sounded familiar. She must have read it in countless of newspaper articles written about him or the company over the years.

It also explained why he had such a powerful and commanding presence.

Kagome tucked the card carefully back into the pocket, and then pushed the rice around in her bowl, her appetite vanished.

The butterflies in her stomach were working themselves up into a frenzy.

Half of her was giddy with excitement while the other half was absolutely terrified.

And yet, both halves were united in one aspect: Kagome really wanted to see Mr Nishizuka again.

Nervous as she was, now that she knew precisely who she was up against, she was still looking forward to the date.

After all, having your life suddenly turning into a movie only happened once in a lifetime, right?

Sesshoumaru stood in front of the café, his spine stiff against the restless instinct to pace the sidewalk.

It was early evening in early October, but the weather was still mild – and cold wouldn’t bother Sesshoumaru anyway.

His sharp gaze followed the passers-by as he waited for Kagome to arrive.

Sesshoumaru had taken a rare day off from work, just because of his date this evening.

Well, he had gone to work as usual in the morning, at first… But after two hours and three enormous coding mistakes and a big meeting where he had been unusually snarly, it had become clear he wasn’t accomplishing anything and couldn’t concentrate on work at all.

So he had gone back home to his apartment where he had been practically climbing up the walls while waiting for the hours to tick by agonisingly slow.

The very important preparations he left till the last minute hadn’t made the time pass any quicker, and in the end Sesshoumaru had come to their agreed meeting spot – a cute and trendy café Miroku’s fiancée had recommended – forty minutes early.

Sesshoumaru glanced at his watch again. Only six minutes left now.

Anticipation thrummed through Sesshoumaru’s veins.

He had never really felt this way, his emotions were a confusing knot of polar opposites all mixed up with one another.

He’d been planning this date for two weeks and was sure everything would be perfect. He also remembered fondly how flustered the miko had been when he’d asked her out.

So naturally, he was brimming with confidence.

At the same time, however, he really wanted to impress Kagome.

This wasn’t just a date to him; if all went well, this would just be the beginning. Deep down in his heart, spurred on by the wild insistent howl of his youkai instincts, Sesshoumaru knew he was playing for keeps.

That meant the stakes were high – the highest they’d ever been in his personal life.

Besides, even a perfect plan could only help him so far, because things did not always go according to plan. And you could never really completely anticipate another person’s reactions. Certainly not with the insufficient data Sesshoumaru had been operating on.

A sweet light fragrance pulled Sesshoumaru out of his muddled thoughts and he immediately stood straighter as he scanned the crowd, seeking his miko.

He found her quickly, his youki flaring in a delighted greeting.

She noticed him, offering him a small, cute wave as she made her way towards him.

Excitement built up like a tidal wave and Sesshoumaru's nerves hummed as age-old instincts, long dormant until now, rose to the surface.

The time had come, for him to try and win over his chosen female.

She stopped a few yards away, and nervously straightened her jacket before greeting him with a rather formal bow.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head in return.

"Hello, Miss Higurashi. I'm glad you could make it."

"Ahh, please, call me Kagome." She looked up, meeting his gaze, her blue eyes holding him captive. "I'm glad you asked me out."

"The pleasure's all mine," Sesshoumaru told her, meaning every word.

She was blushing again, and Sesshoumaru was enraptured.

He gestured towards the café. "Shall we?"

Kagome nodded, and followed Sesshoumaru inside.

They made their order, and Sesshoumaru gallantry carried their purchases to the table Kagome had chosen.

She had opted for a hot chocolate and a slice of cheesecake, while Sesshoumaru had gone for the house blend with a double shot of espresso and some daifuku.

They settled in, and after some initial silence loaded by slight tension, Sesshoumaru manage to coax Kagome into a conversation.

“Tell me about yourself,” he asked, his intent gaze studying her over the rim of his coffee cup.

“I’m not sure there’s all that much to tell,” she replied, shrugging.

“I think there’s plenty,” Sesshoumaru countered. “And I want to hear all of it.”

“Well, I’m twenty-four and a Tokyo native. I have a younger brother, as you know. Other than him, my family consists of my mom and my grandfather. I live at a shrine, which you probably know already, too. I work as a nurse at the Tokyo Metropolitan Children’s Medical Centre.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyebrow rose. “Really? You’re a nurse at a children’s hospital? That is very impressive, Kagome.”

“Oh, please. It isn’t half as impressive as your job, Mr Nishizuka,” she said, shaking her head.

“Sesshoumaru,” he responded immediately. “And I do believe that caring for sick and injured children has much more value than making video games,” he added.

“They’re not just video games,” Kagome replied, her blue eyes stormy in a display both of temper and passion. “You provide joy and entertainment. An escape to people. Do you know how popular handheld game consoles are with the inpatients at the hospital, especially those who require long-term care?”

Sesshoumaru sat still and silent. He could all but feel his attraction deepening at this show of emotion, at this impassioned defence of the worlds and stories he created for living.

Wholly subconsciously, tendrils of his youki were swirling around Kagome, brushing against her aura.

She absentmindedly rubbed her arm, as if warding off a chill.

“The point is,” she said sternly, “that what you do is really important. More important than you probably even realise.”

“I could say the same to you,” Sesshoumaru replied, his voice warm with the tenderness swelling in his chest. “I have great admiration for you and the work you do.”

“Thank you,” Kagome said, her cheeks flushing.

“And I hope at some point I might be able to visit the hospital you work at personally, to see the difference you claim my games are making,” Sesshoumaru continued.

Kagome’s eyes sparked. “I’m sure that can be arranged, and then I can prove to you it’s all true!”

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked into a smile.

“I will hold you to that, Kagome. It’s a date.”

The blush returned full force, and Kagome looked down at her her cooling hot chocolate.

But she was smiling; another sweet expression that Sesshoumaru engraved into his heart.

When Kagome had taken a seat back at the café she had slumped in relief.

She'd been a nervous wreck for the entire week leading up to the date.

She'd tried to read up on Nishizuka Sesshoumaru to prepare herself but had only managed to twist herself into tighter knots.

She'd fretted over her makeup and agonised over her outfit, which she had ended up changing twice before she'd felt confident enough to leave the safety of her room.

Confident enough that someone like her, an overworked and underpaid nurse, could truly walk arm in arm in public with a CEO whose net worth was counted in billions.

Seeing him standing there, tall and handsome in his long, dark coat, waiting for her, had set the butterflies flitting about in a frenzy.

Her nerves had made an appearance though this time, instead of just blurting out any word coming to her mind she’d been all but tongue-tied.

But going into the café with him had set her at ease.

It had been a very nice place. Trendy, certainly nicer than a regular café. It’d had that distinctive mood some places just carried.

Kagome had been positively surprised.

It also hadn’t been one of those super upscale and insanely fancy places she’d been mentally preparing herself for.

She hadn’t felt like a fish out of water like she had feared.

She had felt… like a young woman out on a date with an attractive man in a very nice coffee shop.

And she had smiled.

The evening had progressed much more smoothly from there.

The conversation between them flowed surprisingly naturally.

That was probably because, for whatever reason, Sesshoumaru seemed to be genuinely interested in Kagome’s life, and asked several very mindful questions so he could learn all the more.

The hot chocolate was divine, and the cheesecake sweet.

Kagome’s smile came easily and her nerves had calmed by the time their cups and plates were empty.

“I was thinking we might take a little stroll next,” Sesshoumaru suggested. “Make some room for dessert.”

“Dessert?” Kagome laughed. “I just ate a slice of cake.”

“Trust me,” Sesshoumaru said, his golden eyes glowing with amusement.

Kagome shrugged, and with something in the pit of her stomach quivering, realised that she did.

She put on her jacket and then followed Sesshoumaru out.

Evening had truly fallen now, but the streets of Tokyo were still busy and well-lit. They walked the streets, side by side, turning after a while to stroll along a river and then crossing a small park.

And as they walked, all the while a light conversation ebbed between them in a rapid-fire game.

“Favourite beverage?” Sesshoumaru asked.

“Hot chocolate,” Kagome replied, grinning. “Yours?”

“Whisky.”

“Favourite colour?” Kagome asked in turn.

“Dark blue. You?”

“Pink.”

And so it went, back and forth, punctuated here and there by quick side-glances, secret smiles, even a laugh or two.

Eventually, they started moving towards a business district, and though Kagome was curious as to what their destination and the promised ‘dessert’ were, she held her tongue and followed Sesshoumaru’s lead.

His plan started to become clearer, however, when Kagome noticed the lit sign of a company’s name built into the side of one of the towering buildings.

“Really?” She said, slanting a sly look at Sesshoumaru. “Can’t stay away from work for one evening?”

“You’ll like it, I promise,” Sesshoumaru said, as he steered her towards the Luna headquarters.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kagome quipped, earning a smirk from Sesshoumaru in return.

He escorted her to the building, bringing her in through a side door he unlocked. They headed straight to the elevator, and Kagome couldn’t help a giggle.

“Don’t tell me you brought us here for old time’s sake?” she said as they entered the elevator.

Laughter lit Sesshoumaru’s eyes as he pushed the button for the top floor. “Not entirely.”

“If you say so.” Kagome leaned against the wall, remembering her first meeting with Sesshoumaru, riding up with him in this very same elevator.

She felt more comfortable around him now that she knew him a little better.

But his presence still had that mysterious edge to it.

“You know, I should have guessed that you were the CEO even if you didn’t explicitly tell me,” Kagome murmured.

“How so?” Sesshoumaru asked, curiosity colouring his voice.

“You have this… aura, I guess.” Kagome shrugged, and vaguely noticed the elevator slide to a smooth stop. “I can’t really explain it, just something about you that I feel but can’t put my finger on it. Does that make any sense?”

He was silent for a while, and when Kagome looked at him, all signs of amusement had vanished from his face.

“That makes a lot of sense,” he said.

For a moment, even in the bright elevator lights, Kagome could have sworn his eyes flashed.

A shiver slid down Kagome’s spine.

“You can feel that, can you?”

“I…” Her skin tingled as goosebumps erupted up her arms. “Yes, I can. What is it?”

“You were more correct than you even realised when you spoke of an aura,” he said, his voice soft and serious. “It’s because you are a miko in truth, Kagome.”

Kagome blinked. “What does that mean?”

Sesshoumaru sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m about to tell you a very personal secret, Kagome. Something I would not usually share on the first date. But I trust you. And I feel like you deserve to know the full truth so we can pursue a relationship honestly. Because I truly wish to have a relationship with you, Kagome. A real one.”

Kagome’s words and breath caught in her throat. She was trapped by Sesshoumaru’s grave golden gaze, unable to look away from him.

Then, something in the air shimmered, shifted. Kagome’s nose itched.

And then, a gasp was torn from her, because Sesshoumaru…

Sesshoumaru had changed.

His hair had changed colour to a captivating silver-white. His eyes, his stature, his features… everything looked same and familiar as before, but odd markings now decorated his forehead and cheeks, vivid and startling. And his hands… Those could only be described as claws.

“W-what? What’s going on?” Kagome stammered. She hugged herself, as pressure built in the air around them.

“This is who I am,” Sesshoumaru said calmly. “A youkai.”

“A youkai?” Kagome said, her voice gaining another octave with this revelation. “Seriously? But youkai are a myth! They’re not real! They –”

Something warm and electric flared in the air, and Kagome’s protests died.

She drew in a quivering breath. Another.

“A youkai?” she repeated after a moment, in a strangled whisper.

Sesshoumaru nodded.

“Yes. An inuyoukai, to be precise.”

Kagome’s fingers twitched.

Before she even registered what she was doing, she had already reached out to him.

Her finger ran along the sharp magenta stripe on his cheek, his skin warm and smooth under her touch. Until she had to jerk back with a hiss of pain when something like static electricity crackled to life between then.

Sesshoumaru’s expression didn’t change, but he did raise his hand to rub his cheek.

“And that is what it means to be a true miko,” he said, his voice wry. “Your kind and mine are polar opposites in many aspects.”

Kagome’s gaze darted between her finger and Sesshoumaru and she blushed furiously as embarrassment flooded her.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” Sesshoumaru reassured her, his voice gentle. He took her hand in his. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We will, huh?” Kagome muttered, shaking her head at his confidence.

But also, youkai or not, it was very flattering that he showed such interest in her.

“Yes,” he said, tugging her along and leading her out of the elevator. “We will. And now to the surprise.”

“You mean there hasn’t been enough surprises yet for one night?” Kagome retorted, liking the way he so casually held her hand.

“Well, the surprise just now wasn’t planned, and this next one is much more pleasant,” Sesshoumaru said, pulling her after him through a door and to a staircase.

“Do you still trust me?” he asked, starting up the stairs.

Kagome stared at his back as she followed, her heart softening at the open vulnerability his voice betrayed.

Kagome squeezed his hand. “I do,” she said.

And she meant it.

It would take her a while yet to really process everything she had just been told.

To come to grips with the fact that youkai were real and breathing and walking the streets of Japan.

Longer still to accept it.

But she could tell already that it didn’t change all that much between her and Sesshoumaru. His personality stayed the same, as had his appearance, even – for the most part.

She really did appreciate honesty, and it had been a brave thing to reveal such a big and personal secret so early on in their acquaintance.

Sesshoumaru reached the top of the staircase. There was another door waiting, which he unlocked and swung open. Pulling his hand from hers, he gestured for her to go in first.

Kagome raised her eyebrows at him, but stepped out of the door.

Wind whipped at her hair. The skyscrapers rose around her, their multiple windows glittering against the dark night sky like stars. Above them, peeking from behind a cloud was the moon, nearly full.

“It’s beautiful,” Kagome whispered.

And then she saw what Sesshoumaru had prepared for her on the roof.

There were cushions strewn in the middle of the flat rooftop to sit on. A blanket spread out between them, on which a proper picnic had been laid out. Surrounding the scene there were at least a dozen lanterns, the candlelight glowing softly in the night, and also several potted plants, adding onto the atmosphere.

“Wow,” Kagome breathed, awed by everything she was seeing. “This is the dessert?” she asked, turning to Sesshoumaru.

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “It’s almost the time for Otsukimi, so I thought it would be appropriate.”

“I wouldn’t call this appropriate,” Kagome huffed.

It was sweet. It was thoughtful. It was wonderful. It was impressive.

It was like one of those grand gestures that you might see in a movie.

She looked up at him and their gazes locked, tension humming in the air as they studied one another in the moonlight.

And because Kagome was touched by the effort Sesshoumaru had put into the entire evening, because she was flattered by his obvious interest, because this date had proven to be even beyond her wildest dreams…

She decided to be brave, too.

Kagome closed their distance. She could feel his aura thrum stronger when she pressed close. His golden eyes were intent on her, never breaking their gaze, their connection.

Until she did, by closing her eyes, a fraction of a second before she brushed her lips against his in a shy kiss.

It had meant to be small and swift, but as Kagome’s heart started racing madly it evolved into something slow and soft and sweet instead.

Or, at least, it was sweet, until that same weird static shock thing from earlier happened again, forcing Kagome to pull back with a rueful “owwww.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes were hooded. He was smiling, although it was a very dry sort of a smile.

“We really do need to figure that one out,” Kagome muttered, grimacing.

“We will,” Sesshoumaru replied. “We have plenty of time for that.”

Kagome slanted an assessing glance at him and smiled. “I guess we do.”

The look in Sesshoumaru’s eyes was so sweet and tender that Kagome had to turn away and briskly set her hands on her hips.

“Right then, I was promised dessert.”

Sesshoumaru’s chuckle was smooth and silky, the hand he pressed against the small of Kagome’s back warm even through all the layers of clothing she was wearing.

“Right this way, my priestess. Your banquet awaits.”

#sesskag #sesskagweek2020 #skw2020 #sesskag fic #AU with a CEO!Sess who's still a youkai #Probably more Rom than Com but posting it anyway #chie writes #fic: sk

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