#they might as well throw a few worth gowns in here just for good measure

[tennessoui]

Prompt: Can you shut up!?

hey hi hello!!! so this is set in the princess diaries au (no shame if you never heard of it, it's about 4 posts from about 5 months ago, i just thought the quote fit)

but basically anakin is the princess who writes the diary, obi-wan is chris pratt in the second movie, and they're very annoyed at each other except they also can't stay away or keep their hands off each other. because well. mutual obsession etc etc

(2.8k)

“Princess! Fancy seeing you here,” the most unwelcome voice in the entirety of Genovia and perhaps the world greets Anakin as he turns the corner into the main entrance hall.

He considers turning back immediately, but his grandfather has been trying to drill manners into his head and he knows that such a display of preference—dispreference, perhaps?—would be breaking half.

(Even though it’s not as if Anakin sees Qui-Gon obey all the rules Anakin has spent hours learning since he’d been discovered by his grandfather in San Francisco. All Anakin is saying is if Qui-Gon can knight a cop in order to get out of a speeding ticket, Anakin should be able to walk away from smarmy assholes who don’t know when to stop.)

“Lord Kenobi, what a surprise seeing you. Here. In my home,” he places his hands behind his back, files clenched just a hair too tightly between his hands. “Uninvited,” he adds in case the lord has not noticed that part.

“Apologies,” Lord Kenobi replies. He’s sitting on a side table, probably a Genovian antique worth more than his entire life, long legs crossed at the ankles in front and arms crossed over his chest. Does the man ever wear anything that isn’t a suit? At least he’s left off the jacket this time, but that might even be worse. All Anakin can see is his bare forearms, flexed as they are in that position.

All he can think about is the ball from two nights ago. It had been Anakin’s twenty-first birthday celebration, a coming of age in Genovia that could not be swept under the rug. That was how Qui-Gon put it, though Anakin still thinks his grandfather simply adores having a reason to throw a party.

He’d been warned beforehand that the guest list was mostly princesses and ladies and duchesses, women and girls looking to win his favor and eventually his ring. There weren’t many single, handsome, titled men these days—for good reason, of course, but still.

He’d been warned, but he hadn’t been prepared. After an hour and a half of dancing, he’d taken refuge in the linen closet off the main hall, several rooms away. He’d just needed space to breathe unperfumed air, to clear his head, to remember that he wasn’t just Ani anymore, the poor kid from San Francisco with the shit haircut he loved. He was Anakin Espa Tatoin Set de Shmison, Prince of Genovia.

And that meant dancing with women in ball gowns and long nails that pinched at his arms when he tried to leave before they were ready to see him go. That meant being a piece of meat, to be studied and measured by people he had no interest in.

But how can he say that?

Single, handsome, titled men are supposed to be straight. They’re supposed to be interested in women. And if they’re not—if they’re interested in men as well, that has to be an afterthought. That has to be a shameful secret, hidden away while they parade their beautiful wives around the world.

And single, handsome, titled men who aren’t interested in women at all? Who have only ever wanted to love another man openly and ardently? Who went to the San Francisco Pride Festival at the age of twelve and bawled in the streets at the realization that he wasn’t alone in feeling this way? 

Those don’t exist. Ani cannot exist, not if Anakin, Prince of Genovia is supposed to.

So he’d needed a second to remember, to get his head and his story, well. Straight. And he’d ducked out of the room, into a linen closet just for a few moments to breathe.

That’s all he’d had. Just a few moments. And then the door had opened and someone had closed themselves in with him.

Anakin had opened his mouth to protest—because, really, this was all very indecent, there was hardly any space between their bodies. If Anakin moved a single half-step forward, his entire front would be brushing along a—a very firm chest and broad shoulders, nice arms covered by a dark blue suit.

He must have swallowed his tongue there for a second, and it had given the strange man an opening. “Hello, darling,” he’d said, tone a low hot murmur very close to his ear. “Sincerest apologies for barging in like this, but I wanted to give you this.”

In his hand had been a champagne flute. For the first time, Anakin had followed the line of his arm up to his shoulder and then to his face. The man was gorgeous. His beard was neatly trimmed to the lines of his jaw, his eyes pleasantly crinkled on his smile. His hair had been styled, but several pieces had been falling out and they hung over his forehead.

“I heard it was your birthday, princess,” he’d teased in that same low tone, the lilting accent of a native Genovian coloring his words. “And I know in America they never celebrate twenty-first birthdays without a bit of alcohol. What do they call it again? When they go to different bars all in the same night for the sake of getting wasted?”

Getting wasted had never sounded more appealing than it did in that voice. “Twenty-one run,” Anakin had replied, taking the champagne from the man’s hand. “Usually it’s with harder stuff than champagne though.”

The man had smiled. “Champagne is the chaser, if you want.” He’d opened his jacket to pull out a silvery flask, shaking it slightly so Anakin could hear the liquid sloshing around.

And well. Many people had told Anakin many things throughout the course of his life but definitely since he became Prince of Genovia.

But no one had ever told him not to accept drinks from attractive strangers in cupboards.

They’d stayed there for at least an hour, talking in hushed tones and swapping the flask back and forth, champagne mostly forgotten. When Obi-Wan—his name was Obi-Wan Kenobi, what an amazing name—had complained about it being slightly cramped with both of them sitting opposite each other, Anakin had—Anakin had climbed into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck.

And they’d laughed and Anakin hadn’t heard anything of what Obi-Wan said because he’d been too distracted by the way the man’s hands felt on his waist, and he’d felt so tired that he’d tried to curl up on him and go to sleep right there, face pressed against his neck so that all he could smell was Obi-Wan’s perfume, so strong at this part of his body that it almost drowned out all memories of the perfumes of the women at the ball.

The thought had woken him up. The ball. His ball. He’d been languishing in a linen closet for ages while his ball was going on. Unacceptable. Deplorable.

Obi-Wan had been shocked to feel him scramble up and away, shocked to watch him scrub a hand down his face and over his hair.

“No, no, I have to go,” Anakin had warbled when Obi-Wan’s hands had reached out to catch his own, bring him back to his lap. “No, I can’t—I’m not Ani, I have to be—I’m Anakin, Prince of…Anakin has to…he can’t like you, he has to go—he has to go dance with girls.”

Obi-Wan had stood up and looked at him with such kind, sad eyes that Anakin had thought he would cry if he had to see anything more. He’d turned to go, but Obi-Wan had caught his wrist, pulled him back and into his arms for a crushing and achingly quick hug. “You can have both,” he’d whispered in his ear. “I promise, Anakin. You don’t have to choose between who you are and what your duty is.”

Anakin had shaken his head sharply once, fighting the urge to cry, because he couldn’t. He couldn’t be both. Obi-Wan didn’t understand. Obi-Wan was just a lord. He didn’t understand that as a prince—he was expected to marry, expected to give heirs, expected to—

He’d left the closet but had been unable to get the words of the lord out of his head. Three dances later, he’d seen Obi-Wan standing on the sidelines of the room, next to a severe looking old man, hands clasped behind his back and legs indecently set apart.

You can have both, Obi-Wan had whispered. But was that true? Could it really be true?

It had been liquid courage that had made him cross the room to stand before Obi-Wan as the strings of the last song died. “Can I have this dance?” He’d asked, like an idiot, a tipsy, smitten child. And that’s exactly what Obi-Wan had treated him as, looking quickly at the old man next to him before he’d looked back at Anakin with an eyebrow raised in derision.

“I don’t know,” he’d said, lilting voice carrying so far the palace guards at the mouth of the driveway probably heard. “Can you?”

Anakin had flushed so red, it was a miracle he hadn’t simply burst into flames. But he’d wanted Obi-Wan. He’d wanted to be held and to hold the man again. Something about being around him made him feel safe and looked after. Protected. “May I?” 

And Obi-Wan, the man who had chuckled so deeply into his hair in the linen closet not even an hour ago had turned his head. “I believe someone more suiting your tastes is waiting over there,” he’d said, and Anakin had followed his gaze to spot a young woman clutching at her matriach’s hand, staring at him with stars in her eyes.

“I do not,” he’d said, and he’d sounded unsure, he knows he had. He’d broken and whispered almost furiously between them. “I hoped I could have both.”

Obi-Wan had taken a pointed sip of his champagne flute. “And I hope that with age, your naivety will meet its end. Happy birthday, my prince.”

And then he’d bowed, and then he’d left with that old man, and Anakin had been able to hear the whispers around the ballroom. He’d been so embarrassed, he’d been so angry—

And now Obi-Wan Kenobi is here, leaning on a table and looking at him consideringly as if he has any right to his time or his fucking—side table after what he’d done. He’d humiliated him, after letting him be vulnerable with him.

Worse, he’d—he’d given him hope. And then he’d taken it all away. He’d been a right dick, and Anakin despises him, an opinion that will never change.

“I’m not expecting visitors,” he tells him in a clipped manner, striding by. If he cannot turn around and leave, he will walk past and not engage. There—the grand staircase. He will go up a flight, perhaps two, and then into a random room full of things that can hopefully be broken without costing Genovia a fortune, and he will have a tantrum. “I’m much too busy today.”

“Are you?” Lord Kenobi asks. He says it like it’s a question he already knows the answer to. There’s the sounds of the man getting up, standing straight, and following him, but Anakin is walking much too fast to care.

He does care, however, when the files behind his back are plucked from his hands.

“Looking for a wife, are you?” Kenobi asks rhetorically, thumbing through the files.

Anakin whips around, hand already outstretched, but Kenobi ducks away. “Give those back,” he demands, stalking after him.

“I’m reading,” Kenobi says. “Too boring. Too spontaneous. Too cookie-cutter. Not rich enough. Owns a baking show, but only because of her title, you don’t want that sort of artificiality in your life.”

“Ahrt-e-fiss-i-a-lity,” Anakin mocks before he can stop himself. Kenobi looks over his shoulder with a lazy raised eyebrow, and Anakin wants to kill him.

He starts ascending the stairs and Anakin tears after him, tossing the idea of tackling him onto the floor out of his mind before it can completely form. It would be very satisfying though.

“All women,” Obi-Wan concludes as he reaches the top of the stairs. “Anakin,” his tone is…is disapproving almost. “We talked about this.”

Anakin wants to wrap his hands around Obi-Wan’s neck and squeeze. It is quite a feat of self-control that he does not. “Was that before or after you rejected me on the dancefloor?” he hisses at him angrily.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth as if to say something, but he pauses first and tilts his head. Anakin freezes as well when he hears the voices of a couple of maids down the hall.

Rumors have already begun to spread after the disastrous finale of Anakin’s birthday ball. He does not need to be caught arguing with Obi-Wan Kenobi right now, lest he feed more wood into those flames.

Without quite understanding why his actions are so bad, he blindly reaches out to the closest door and shoves both of them inside its opening.

“Princess, we have to stop meeting like this,” Obi-Wan says, pressed solidly against his front, the folders of all of Anakin’s possible wives the only thing keeping their chests from touching. “People will talk.”

Anakin feels his mouth drop open in outrage before he hits at Obi-Wan’s chest. “People are talking!” he hisses. “You—you rejected me! In front of everyone!”

“You weren’t in your right mind, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, letting himself be hit. Anakin doesn’t like that. Anakin wants Kenobi to fight back. “You were at least tipsy, on your way to fully sozzled. That sort of decision, it needs to be made fully sober. I refuse to take advantage of you like that.”

Anakin stares without seeing at Obi-Wan’s chest, bottom lip trembling slightly despite his best effort. “You were cruel,” he finally manages to say, slapping at Obi-Wan’s chest again. “You were cruel.”

Obi-Wan is silent for several seconds, before he lets out a little sigh. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I am. I—my grandfather was with me, you see. And it would be—if he knew that you held me in high regard, it would be terrible for you. For the crown. And I find myself…opposed to putting you in such a position.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan frowns at the question as if it’s especially offensive to him.

“Because I don’t like thinking about you in distress.”

“Oh, did you not see me after you rejected me in front of—”

“I said, my grandfather was next to me—”

“Oh, well if your grandfather was—”

“I didn’t expect you to do something so public—”

“You got me drunk in a closet and you—”

“I expected a bit more class—”

“I asked you to dance, I didn’t ask you to blow me in the throne room, for fuck’s—”

“Would you?” Obi-Wan is somehow so much closer than before, and Anakin’s hands fall to his shirt for a grip. “Would you ask that of me?”

Anakin falls silent, still. He has no idea what Obi-Wan wants, no idea what the man is after. It feels like all he can do is answer honestly, and the word is on the tip of his tongue when Obi-Wan speaks again. “I would,” he whispers like a secret between them. “If my prince wanted it of me. If I thought my lips wrapped around his length would halt his foolish search for a wife when we both know they’d never be able to give him what he needs—-”

“Can you shut up?” Anakin cries much too loudly, and Obi-Wan grins in the darkness of the closet. “Make me,” he requests teasingly, but Anakin has had enough of being teased by this man. Anakin will not take this any longer.

He sets about making him, yanking him closer to him until their mouths meet. Immediately, Anakin’s eyes slide shut because this is a kiss and he only knows one way to kiss someone: gently, softly.

But he isn’t feeling very gentle and soft towards Obi-Wan right now, and the lord definitely isn’t feeling the same if the way he bites at his lip is any indication. Anakin can’t stop the way he yelps, and when Obi-Wan takes advantage of his opened mouth, he can’t even say he’s surprised.

His yelp quickly turns into an embarrassingly loud moan, and he grips at Obi-Wan’s hair, shoving him back against the wall.

There’s a rushing waterfall of paper, as Obi-Wan drops the files in his hands in order to grab at Anakin’s waist and pull him in, pull him closer.

And that’s how the maid finds them on her journey to grab new linens for one of the bedrooms, liplocked and making out against the one part of the small space, Obi-Wan’s leg slipped between Anakin’s, while Anakin’s hands are clenched around his thighs, the smiling faces of Anakin’s potential wives laying discarded and forgotten on the floor. 

#asks #obikin #prompt fill #princess diaries au #but a little different #in that they're definitely caught kissing in that closet #and also obi-wan is not strong enough to carry on the ruse as long as chris pine is in the second movie #he just looks at anakin and crumbles and wants to help him and be there for him and respect himm #etc etc #he also does not want to see him marrying any young and eligible women #mostly because this anakin is absolutely not interested in women at all #and obi-wan hates to think of him closeting himself like that for life #but also because he'd be sad if anakin married someone not him :( #also obi-wan just calls anakin princess because i think thats hot no more questions pleasae #yes this is STILL a switch au

[iamthepulta]

so much corsetry jfc

#I swear to god this author wrote this fic to just gush about corsets #they might as well throw a few worth gowns in here just for good measure #I've never heard corsets mentioned so much fucking anywhere except this one fic lol #there was a whole scene between Hades and Seph where he's buying her new shit and she gets upset because Plot Reasons #but the corset is hurting her because the boning channels are broken #and she's not wearing... I mean the author doesn't mention if she's wearing shit underneath it but it doesn't sound like it? #but then it ends on a complex female vs male dressing habits why are womens undergarmets so complex #which i don't understand I'm just rolling with it at this point #but oh my god so much corsetry #So if I write hadestown in 1850 can I just talk about steam engines and the civil war and peacoats and crinolines? #side note: while googling to make sure crinoline was spelled correctly #apparently bridal crinolines are still worn- which doesn't surprise me but I'm also appalled; I hate bridal apparel #why do brides pay for that shit #I'm not going to wear white at my wedding and I'm not going to have a diamond wedding ring #and I'm not going to have a bridal reception I'm going to have a goddamn bomb ass party in someone's backyard and hire an open bar and band #and then I'm going to leave my own party and get on a plane and go to iceland #why iceland #I don't know #maybe ireland would be a nice honeymoon #idk somewhere stupid that nobody would think to go and isn't romantic in the slightest which is why it's romantic to me #these tags are horrible at this point I'm really sorry

[heliads]

The Issue of the Dance

You’re best friends with Draco Malfoy, that much is a given. When you’re asked to the Yule Ball by a Durmstrang student, however, Draco seems oddly irritated.

masterlist

You may be trying to do your homework, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel your best friend’s gaze burning away at the back of your head. Draco Malfoy has been trying to get your attention for the better part of ten minutes now, but you’re not any more likely to give up and look over at him than you had before. This essay is due tomorrow, you have better things to do then respond to your friend.

Eventually, Draco resorts to more advanced measures, and seconds later, you feel a piece of crumpled paper hit your arm. You don’t spare it a second thought, merely turning over the page in the textbook in front of you. You can hear him sigh in irritation and smile to yourself. You can only mess with him for so long, so you pick it up, carefully uncrumpling the paper to see what is written inside.

It’s blank. Forgetting your forced silence, you turn around and give Draco a look. He’s sprawled in one of the mahogany and viridian silk armchairs sequestered around the fireplace, and he looks up triumphantly when he sees he’s finally made you glance away from your homework. You hold up the paper in one hand. “Really? You’re throwing parchment at me? I thought it could at least be something interesting, like a note.”

Draco grins. “I can give you a note, if that makes you feel better.” You roll your eyes. “It will not. I’m going back to my essay.” Draco leans forward, snapping your textbook shut with one hand. “No, we’re talking. I’m bored.” You reach for the textbook, which is being held out of your reach. “No, we’re not. I have things to be doing that don’t involve entertaining you. Go talk to Crabbe or Goyle.”

Draco sighs. “They wouldn’t know how to have a conversation unless I guided them through it by hand.” You do your best to hold back a laugh. “They’re your friends. You’re so mean.” Draco raises an eyebrow. “I’m not wrong. They’re idiots. That’s why you’re my closest friend, darling, because you actually have the ability to think.”

This time, you can’t stop your laugh. “Darling? That almost makes up for the fact that you think we’re friends solely because I don’t have the brain of a five year old.” Draco smirks shamelessly. “Do you have a problem with that?” You shrug. “I guess I do.” With that, you turn back to your essay at hand, grateful your turned back hides the smile on your face as you hear Draco groan in annoyance behind you.

“Fine, we’re not just friends because of that. Now can you stop ignoring me? It’s going to be a long night for both of us if you do.” You point your quill at him without turning around. “Fine. Will you please stop ignoring me?” Draco asks, and your smile grows. “Fine, I guess I will. Happy?” You turn around once more, and Draco matches your smile. “Very.”

There’s a sound of approaching footsteps behind you, and seconds later, your friend Blaise Zabini slumps down into an armchair next to the two of you. “Honestly, Malfoy, you’re making me sick. Can’t you two stop flirting and just go out with each other? You’re ruining my evening.” Draco gives Blaise a look riddled with disdain. “We are not dating, Blaise, we’re friends. Just that and nothing more.”

Blaise raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you bother her more than anyone else?” You flash him a grin. “Because we’re best friends. I’ve earned the title.” Blaise rolls his eyes. “You’re both terrible.” You shrug. “Is that why you’re also our friend? You’re the one who came over here.” Blaise points at you in agreement. “Exactly. I’m not here to bicker about Malfoy’s questionable habits, I’m here to talk about the Yule Ball. If we want to have a good showing we’ll have to form closer alliances with the Durmstrang students.”

You roll your eyes. “Honestly, Blaise, it’s just a dance. You’re making it sound like a council of war.” Draco glances over at you. “He’s not wrong. Having international ties could never hurt. This would be the best place to do it.” You groan, slumping down onto the table in front of you and burying your face in your arms. “Both of you?” Blaise folds his arms in front of his chest. “What, you don’t like the Durmstrang guys? They might seem a little intimidating, but they’re students like the rest of us.”

You shake your head. “Not from the way you’re talking about them. They might as well be businessmen.” Blaise waves this away with his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Look, there’s a group just coming back from the library. You could talk to them, make some friends.” You sit up, a slight smile crossing your face. “I don’t need to. One of them has already asked me to the Yule Ball.” Blaise stares. “Which one?” You return his gaze, feeling an air of victory. “Henrik Rybar.”

Blaise leans back against the chair. “He’s one of the best in the class! How’d you manage that?” You give him an affronted look. “My natural charm, obviously. Do you still want to make conversation with them tomorrow?” Blaise rolls his eyes, but a grin flickers across his face when he glances over at Draco. “You alright there, Malfoy? You look a little distressed.”

Sure enough- Draco hasn’t said a word all this time, just stewing in something that looks almost like malice. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. “No, nothing’s the matter. Say, I think I left something in the dormitory. I’d best go get it.” He stands up hurriedly and leaves just as quickly. You and Blaise are left to sit alone, an expression of intrigue growing on Blaise’s face.

“Just friends, my arse.” You swat him with the edge of your parchment, but even this can’t seem to get you back into high spirits. You had assumed Draco would be impressed or at least not angry over the fact that Henrik was taking you to the dance- he’s of a prominent magical family, and Draco’s been trying to get the three of you into his good graces for a while. So why is it that he seems so unhappy now?

By the time the Yule Ball rolls around, you’re almost thinking that the dance is more trouble than it’s worth. Draco has been pretending that he wasn’t affected by this at all, that you’re still nothing more than friends, but you can see mute vexation simmering away behind his eyes. The Durmstrang students all sit at the Slytherin table with the rest of you, so it’s not like tensions are eased at all. When Henrik sits next to Draco, the platinum blond boy’s jaw seems to clench. When Henrik sits next to you, well, Draco seems about to punch the guy himself.

However, it’s not like he’s alone in feeling unhappy. Barely a day had gone by after you revealed that you were going to the dance with Henrik that Draco found himself a date- none other than Pansy Parkinson. You suppose you’re not surprised- Pansy has been eyeing Draco for practically her entire life. She’s a Slytherin just like you, so she shares your cunning, your drive to get what you want. Is it really that much of a shock that she would manage to get her hooks in Draco somehow?

You don’t know why you keep thinking of Draco asking Pansy to the ball like it’s somehow Pansy’s fault. Pansy couldn’t have made him ask her any more than another Slytherin girl short of drugging him with a love potion, and he isn’t exactly besotted enough for that. You know that Draco must have asked Pansy for a good reason, a legitimate reason, yet you keep thinking of it like this is Pansy’s decision, not Draco’s. Like if you just phrase it the right way, Draco won’t have feelings for her, like he didn’t ask her to the ball because they were more than friends. Friends is, of course, all that Draco and you will ever be. You would do well to remember it.

Finally, it is the night of the Yule Ball. To be honest, you find yourself a little relieved that it will all be soon over. Draco’s been stiff and wordless with you as of late, like he’s trying to hide something. It only started after Henrik asked you to the dance and Draco asked Pansy, and you have a sinking feeling that this sudden avoidance has something to do with it. If only the dance were over, you could finally go back to what you had before.

Even with all of this, you can’t deny that this night feels magical. You’ve spent days talking about it with your friends, planning out outfits and hair and makeup until you practically felt exhausted. Now, staring at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a glow rush to your cheeks. You look, to put it simply- 

“Amazing. You look gorgeous, Y/N.”

You smile up at Henrik. He looks nice too- like the other Durmstrang students, he’s donned a crimson dress coat with dark fur lining. You suppose it’s traditional for the Durmstrang students, but it does suit him. You yourself wear a gown of deepest indigo, with a skirt of swirling silk that swishes around your ankles until you feel like you could spin for hours and never stop. Even so, his compliment brings a smile to your face.

“You look wonderful yourself.” Henrik returns your smile. “You are too kind. Shall we go in?” He offers you an arm, leading you through the halls and into the stone atrium leading to the Great Hall. Pairs of students mill about, exchanging compliments on dress robes and hair styles whilst secretly checking out what everyone else has decided to wear or do. Yule Balls are out of the ordinary in a school that specializes in the peculiar, so of course everyone who’s anyone is talking about it.

After a few minutes of waiting, the doors open, and the pairs of students begin to file into the Great Hall, led by the Triwizard Champions and their partners. They, of course, are given the first dance, and then everyone else takes to the floor. You are pleasantly surprised to find that Henrik is an excellent dancer, but for every perfect turn and step, you realize you’re looking for someone else, someone with a shock of platinum hair who is not here dancing with you at all.

You don’t realize you’re searching for him until you see him. Draco is dancing with Pansy across the room, laughing formally at a joke she must have said. She’s dressed in emerald green- Slytherin colors, what a surprise. Draco has always felt shielded by his house pride, so of course she would know to dress in that color for him. They look practically perfect together. 

“He is your friend, no? Malfoy?” You jerk back to reality, realizing you must have been staring. “What? Yes, we’re in the same house.” Henrik nods. “He was looking for you earlier, I think. Before you came down.” You smile despite yourself. “I’ve known him for a while.” Henrik starts to open his mouth, presumably to ask you another question about Draco, but you find you don’t want to speak about him right now, so you hurriedly ask him a question about Durmstrang. Henrik’s eyes light up, and he begins to speak in earnest about his school. At last, something to distract him.

When you look back, Draco and Pansy are gone, swallowed up by the crowd. If you were smart, you would turn your attention back to your date, back to the boy who actually asked you out in the first place. Yet you keep looking for the one who didn’t, for the one who’d looked at you with something like betrayal in his eyes when he found out you would be going to the dance with someone else.

After a couple more songs, Henrik excuses himself to speak to a friend, and strides off across the Great Hall. Now that you’re alone, the noise and action of the room seems to echo off of the walls, the sound of the band playing and conversation reaching an ear-piercing din. You make your way through the crowd to reach the doors, slipping into the grateful quiet of the hall outside. You’ve barely taken a few steps, though, when you sense that you’re not alone.

“Y/N?”

You turn to see Draco, silhouetted against the bright lights still seeping out of the Great Hall. His eyes linger on you. “You look nice.” Somehow, these few words manage to outrank a hundred compliments from Henrik. “So do you.” You’re not just adding pleasantries this time- his black suit jacket is a crisp contrast to the white lines of his dress robes. Henrik’s robes almost look garish in comparison. 

You clear your throat. “What are you doing away from the ball? I thought you would be dancing.” Draco gives you a rueful smile. “I could say the same thing about you. Henrik’s a prestigious wizard, he would be a good partner.” Somehow, you get the feeling he’s not just talking about a dance. “He’s not exactly my type. I don’t know him well enough.” Draco smiles now, a real smile. He holds out his hand from where it had been pressed at his side, and you realize that he’s been holding a necklace in his hand. It has links of gold looped together to support a pendant in the middle, one shaped like a teardrop.

“I was going to give this to Pansy, but it doesn’t really match her dress. She went more along the lines of silver. Would you mind if I give it to you instead?” You shake your head quietly, unable to say anything lest you disturb the quiet peace that hangs over you. You turn around, and seconds later you feel the pendant settle against your throat, Draco’s hands inches away as he fastens the clasp behind you.

When you turn around, his eyes linger on the pendant for just a second longer. At last, he speaks, and he has the rushed energy as if he’s not entirely sure that he’s saying the words until he does. “I wanted it to be you, you know. I was going to ask you, and then he did. I didn’t know what to do.” You stare at him. “You-”

Draco cuts you off. “I know we always joked about just being friends, but I wouldn’t have minded if we were wrong this once.” You feel a laugh bubbling to your chest, incredulous and utterly happy. “You could have said that earlier, you dunce. All this time, we’ve been tossing the same lie back and forth. You could have asked me.” Draco grins, the same cocky, impossible, utterly lovesick grin you’ve seen before. “Guess I was waiting for the right moment.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what exactly is the right moment?” You’re almost expecting it when he kisses you. It feels like closure, like you’ve been waiting for this for a while. It feels like home.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter onseshot #draco imagines #draco x reader #draco oneshot

[theonlygamergost]

Similar deep down - Dream SMP

This is... very random, I don’t know why I made this tbh, it came up in my mind when Techno tweeted the “thanks for the free stuff IDIOTS”, I just thought that you guys might like it so... yeah, enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile everyone is busy with Mcc, two old friends find themselves talking about the consequence of their fame

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cw Jschlatt

Enjoy~

”They are going after you Harvey!” ”I’M RUNNING I’M RUNNING I’M RUNNING!!!” “I got them all! Survive for fifteen more seconds!”

Techno was enchanting and disenchanting while Phil’s Livestream was floating next to him, throwing an eye on how their friends were doing while doing his own stuff. It wasn’t his plan to skip Minecraft championship to play on the Dream SMP while everyone was gone, but he got bored so... here he was.

Of course prepping weapons was never a bad idea, but this wasn't how he imagined his afternoon going. Oh well, if he took one thing from Phil, it was the never-ending grind.

Exiting the spider grinder, he walked on the wooden path to get back home, smiling and moving the live more in front of him when the Green guardians got first in the new minigame ”parkour tag”, it looked like stress, but also kinda fun.

He reached the open area in front of the black stone podium and sat in one of the chairs, writing down some stuff he didn't want to forget while sending a (muted) text to speech alert on his friend's stream, he was alone in the server after all, he could stay where he wanted without no roleplay rules blocking him…

Or so he thought…

”Hey Technoblade!” The man in the pig skin jumped to his feet and pulled his netherite axe out of reflex, but as Jschlatt grin turned out to be the one that called his name, he relaxed and allowed his axe to rest by his side, ”Hello Schlatt”.

”You know you shouldn't be here, right?” The man with ram horns placed his hands in the pocket of his suit, ”I mean… No one is on the server nor streaming...” Techno muted the live and moved it to his side, focusing on the unarmed man in front of him. ”Oh I know, I know, I was just making sure you knew” the man in the business suit, slumped in the chair next to the one Techno was previously sitting on, ”Don't worry, I'm just here to talk to a good old friend” he unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie while crossing his legs, shifting into a comfortable and chill position.

At that sight, Techno’s muscles relaxed, he already had the pleasure of talking to Schlatt without any cameras on and he knew that he meant what he was saying. Even if Schlatt had planned to hurt him, he could take him any day without sweating, so he sat down on the chair too.

“Watching Mcc correct? Ahh, supporting your friends in your free time, I understand why everyone likes you so much” Techno smiled, leaning back into the chair, “it’s also a way to steal clout, but Phil has less subs than me so… yeah, I guess I am watching genuinely to support them” a giggle came from the other man, “You and your clout, never gets old ay?” Techno shrugged, “You do what you need to do to stay relevant, you should know it well too. I plug my channel every time I can and you act funny on Rajjelor shows”

They both laughed, being fully aware of how similar the two were:

They both “roleplayed” constantly, their channel was built on them being funny after all, they were both looked at as villains, Schlatt more than Techno but he too played the funny evil…animal? Furry? Whatever it was.

“So, how have you been Technoblade? I know what fame and pressure can do to a man, how are you handling it?” Ah… yes… if someone knew what the pressure of fame feels like, Jschlatt was definitely the man. Constantly acting like someone you deep down aren’t can be consuming, Techno knew it well, but Schlatt was somehow very similar to Techno, acting like a king but being hella insecure deeper inside.

“I’ve been coping well, I guess” Techno grabbed a pebble and started fidgeting with it, “The SleepyBois have been very comforting and reassuring lately, I wouldn’t have made it this far in this mental state if it wasn’t for them” Schlatt gave him a soft smile, “I’m happy you didn’t have to take the extreme measures I did… “ he paused, a gloomy shadow washed over his face, “Listen here Techno, whatever you do, don’t show your face, It’s not worth it, I barely got used to seeing my face all over the internet and it has been how long since that video?” The man with the red gown nodded, “Being faceless gets you the view man! Have you seen Corpse and Dream? Stay with them, keep your privacy close to your chest” Techno looked at the sun setting behind them, thinking in silence for a bit, “I’ll keep that in mind”.

Hearing the pig’s response, Schlatt’s face brightened a bit, “Alright, it seems like your friends are winning there, I’ll leave you to your things” He got up and looked down at Techno, “Thank you for the talk Technoblade, see you next stream” and with that, he winked and walked away with his hands in his pockets, just for a few seconds later opening the setting menu and leaving the server.

Techno unmuted the live just as they were finishing Sands of Time, equipping his trident and jumping in the water he headed back home to cheer for his friend in a safe space.

#cw jschlatt #jschlatt #technoblade #dream smp #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #mcyt fanfiction

[heartofsnark]

Black Market Wonderland (Chapter One): Down The Rabbit Hole

Notes:  This has been a long time coming, I never shut up about my oc and this idea. But, I’m finally posting this damn thing. This is gonna be pretty episodic and not have a lot of overarching plots, I’m gonna be stealing canon stories and adding my own spin to them as well as adding my own stories. It’s a shitshow and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.  

Special thanks to @catoinette, @otomemonogatari , @d-om , @enchantedbythebidders , @voltage-fanfictions , and @piplup235  for not only reading through and giving me feedback but also being the incentive I needed to actually write and post this. Without you all, this would still be rotting on my computer. 

 Summary:  Almost a year ago Tsuneko managed to destroy her entire life and she’s been stuck ever since. She works as a maid at the Tres Spades in Tokyo; it’s not her dream job, but it pays the bills and puts a roof over her head. Her days are spent peacefully enough cleaning hotel rooms, that is until she stumbles into Wonderland and discovers the secrets lurking within the hotel. Will this turning point be exactly what she needed or a tragedy in the making?

Word Count: 10196

Warnings:  Some blood and violence, people being bought and sold (it’s kbtbb my dudes)

The colors of the sky outside her window are just beginning to shift, soft pinks and purple coming in as the sun starts to set. Tsuneko lets out a sigh and checks her phone again, still no response from Shinobu. While not surprising, disappointment settle in her chest. It’s stupid to be upset, she shouldn’t be so emotional. She scolds herself, setting her phone down a little harder than necessary. Her desk chair creaks as she leans back and lets out another heavy sigh.

Kiyohito is curled up on her bed in a position that doesn’t look comfortable. The dark sable ferret is in a dead sleep with his tongue peeking out, any hope of him being a distraction are dashed. It’s her day off from work and she’s desperate to keep herself preoccupied. Her thoughts wandering is always a danger when she has down time, more dangerous when she’s left to ruminate on the shit show that is her life at the moment.

It’s been almost a year since her life officially went to shit and she started working at the Tres Spades hotel. It’s a glitzy place, the first legal casino in Japan. She’s a maid, spending all of her days cleaning up after people richer and more important than her. And that’s the highlight of her days, besides Kiyo, because otherwise she’s in her apartment just trying to distract herself.

The job itself is fine, given her situation, she’s damn lucky to have it. Good pay, plenty of hours, employee housing, her coworkers are mostly nice, and she even has lots of chances for overtime. But, she can’t say this is what she wanted her life to be. Being a maid isn’t exactly what she dreamed of for herself. Disappointment seems to be the theme of the day and her life.

She’s done her best to be a busy bee throughout the day; her dorm is cleaned, she’s baked, done her laundry, played with Kiyo until he passed out, messed with every entertaining app on her phone, watched any video on Youtube that caught her interest, and messaged Shinobu. Maybe she could try getting in contact with Runa? Not that she thinks it will do her a lot of good, but even getting told to fuck off is more fun than staring out the window.  

Tsuneko stands up from her chair, stretching her joints as she meanders into her kitchenette area. The dorms are nice, like one bedroom apartments essentially. Given how much she likes baking and cooking, a bigger kitchen area would do her some good, but beggars can’t be choosers. She grabs one of the cookies she baked and crams it into her mouth as she begins looking through her fridge. The sweet vanilla calms her nerves, if only marginally. But, she knows what will relax her most.

She groans, she’s out of booze. Of course. Her rum supply ran out last week and she downed her last bit of vodka yesterday. Looks like she’s gotta put on real clothes and stock up. A walk through the city might be nice to clear her mind anyway.

Her work ringtone echoes through the room just as she’s tucked Kiyo into his cage. She scrambles over to desk, stumbling over her own feet to do so.

“Tomori speaking,” she answers, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder so she can pick out a change of clothes.

“Yes, this is Kenzaki, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off. But, we’re short staffed for this evening, between the I.V.C and some people calling off sick. Is there anyway you could come in? You’d be given over time pay, of course.”

“I can be there shortly.” She throws on a tee and shorts, sliding on her shoes.

“Please report to Matsuda when you come in, she’ll give you a work schedule.” She rolls her eyes at the mention of Erika, the head maid has always had an issue with her, what that issue is remains a mystery. There’s still a huge pile of cookies on the counter, her coworkers might appreciate a snack, especially with such a busy day. And eating all of the cookies herself is kind of sad, something she’s done before, but still sad.

She says her goodbyes to Kenzaki as she starts packing the treats away into tupperware, stuffing one more in her mouth. Tsuneko picks out a sticky note, jotting down what’s in them in case of any allergies or dietary issues. Content, she grabs them and heads out the door, double checking her dorm is locked before she leaves.

Working during the I.V.C is like a double edged sword. On one hand, she’s extremely busy which she likes. She loves being able to bustle around and always having something to do. The International V.I.P Convention is a huge ordeal for the Tres Spades, a giant party held at seemingly random intervals where the rich and famous gather to stroke each other’s egos. Tsuneko has the lowest seniority of the maids, so she doesn’t have to deal with the V.I.P’s directly. But, it stretches the entire hotel staff thinner and the worse part is dealing with the V.I.P’s in passing. It may seem minor, but those kind of people seem to take even the smallest opportunity to be a pain in her ass. The last time she worked some man in a suit worth more money than she’s ever seen flagged her down to ask a question, then mocked her for her dialect, acting like she was stupid. And that was after some snooty woman grabbed her in the lobby to scream about the toilet paper in her suite. Looking back, that might have been the only time Erika was nice to her.

The evening air is cool on her skin as she leaves the dormitories, the Tres Spades looming just a short walk away. It stands out even in Tokyo among all the other huge buildings. She remembers seeing it when she first visited Tokyo, thinking how over the top it was with its giant impractical spade shaped cut out. Her feelings haven’t really changed, it’s just more relevant to her life now, fortunately or unfortunately depending on the day.

Her nose wrinkles, the acrid stink of smoke hitting her nose as she nears the back entrance. An older schlubby man is lighting a cigarette near the dumpsters. There are stomped out cigarette butts around his feet; has he been out here chain smoking all day? The stench of smoke seems to drift off of him in waves, like the man sweats nicotine. Who even is he? He’s definitely not a worker and guests at the hotel generally don’t come by the back entrance. And, as judgemental a thought as it may be, he doesn’t look like the kind of person who’d stay at the Tres Spades.

He starts to look up from his cigarette and Tsuneko ducks her head down to make a beeline for the door, just avoiding eye contact with the stranger. If he caught her staring, he’s kind enough not to say anything as she darts through the door.

She drops the cookies off in a thankfully empty staff room, she doesn’t wanna deal with any hassles or questions. She’ll just have to pick up her tupperware at the end of her shift, hopefully no one tries to take it, the cute Pokemon designs makes it a favorite of hers. .

The employee locker room is just as empty, so no one will question why the stink of cigarette smoke is now clinging to her clothes. She’s never been so happy to change into her uniform. Just a touch of perfume for extra measure then she ties her hair up in the neatest ponytail she can manage. She makes sure she has everything she needs for the work day on her, before taking a deep breath and venturing into the hotel lobby.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, the lobby is packed tight with people. Tailored suits and slinky gowns as far as the eye can see. The V.I.P’s bustle around and chatter, their words all blending into a cacophony of unintelligible noise. A select few members of the press are allowed in to snap photos and get quotes about the event. The party should be getting ready to move down to the ballroom, so with any luck this should be her only encounter with the V.I.P’s. Erika should be around here somewhere, given her seniority, plus she never misses an opportunity to kiss ass.

Tsuneko searches through the crowd for the familiar head of maroon hair. She carefully moves around people, muttering ‘excuse me’s as she goes, not letting her customer service smile and tone falter. Where the hell is Erika? She always seems to pop up when Tsuneko messes up, it figures, she’s nowhere to be found when she’s actually wanted.

Something warm and solid slams into her side, she’s knocked to the ground with a thud. A man looms over her with a scowl, she can feel the contempt emanating off of him. He’d be attractive, if he didn’t look like such an asshole. He’s tall, especially from her current vantage point, with layered oak brown hair and hazel eyes. Silence falls over the lobby, like the world’s been stopped. Everyone’s eyes focus  on them, expressions of abject horror. Hushed whispers start to fill the eerie quiet, something about ‘the king’, but she can’t make out anything more. This guy is important; she’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to realize that. Thankfully, she’s only one of the three.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she apologizes, customer service smile in place as she get back up to her feet. This doesn’t seem to appease him, he glares  at her like she’s garbage. Which while not inaccurate, is still rude.

“Get out of my way,” he demands with a sneer and brushes off the front of his suit, like he’s come into contact with something vile. Tsuneko takes a tentative step to the side and the man storms past her up the stairs. What a bitch. This is why she hates rich people.

A few people stare at the man’s retreating back, but once he’s out of sight, it’s like the whole thing never happened. The world starts spinning again and the lobby returns to its former state. She shakes her head, it’s not worth another thought, she doubts she’ll ever see him again.

“Are you okay?” A familiar kind voice asks, it’s Chisato, another maid at the hotel. She’s always been nice to Tsuneko and is among her favorite coworkers.

“I’m fine, that guy was just a dick.” Tsuneko says with a shrug, the crowd is loud enough she can get away with talking shit.

”Uh,” Chisato sucks in a deep breath, brown eyes soft with worry, “do you know who that was?”

“Should I?” Tsuneko doesn’t really pay attention to celebrities or the elite types, it’s all nonsense to her.

“Just what were you thinking making an idiot out of yourself!?” Erika’s harpy screech rises above every noise in the lobby. Her hands are on her hips and her glare is trained on Tsuneko.

“What were you thinking?” The twins, Rina and Kana, chime in from behind Erika with similar expressions, contributing nothing to the conversation.

“It was an accident,” she answers honestly, she was so focused on finding Erika she forgot to keep an eye out for where she was going. These things happen, all she can do is apologize and move on.

“It was your fault, you should pay attention to where you’re going!”

”I apologized, unless you have a time machine, there’s not much else I can do.”

”You have no business even being around V.I.P’s, especially if you’re gonna get in their way!”

”Oh, cause I’m sure your banshee screeches just make them feel oh so special.” Tsuneko and Erika glare at each other, she may be the head maid, but Tsuneko has never been one to bite her tongue.

“Go drop off all the special boxes in the basement storage room for the guests staying for the spa package, everyone else is too busy.” Her sharp gaze drifts over to Chisato at the last part, making it clear she shouldn’t offer any help. The task isn’t particularly difficult, just tedious and will take the rest of the day.

“Of course,” Tsuneko forces a bright smile and makes her voice sugary sweet, “maybe we should offer them some complementary ear plugs, as well.”

She scurries off before Erika can say another word, the head maid can screech into the void for all she cares,  she got her work for the evening and that’s all that matters. It’s a couple flights of stairs to make it to the basement, so the elevator is best, whoever decided maids should wear heels is an asshole.

“I can’t take it anymore! It’s over, you cheater!” A woman screams as Tsuneko rounds the corner. A couple is standing outside the elevator, the woman throws a small mask at a man in a tacky red suit and storms off past Tsuneko.

The mask bounces off his face and onto the ground, it’s  small and silver with intricate details. Judging by the man’s suit and the woman’s gown, they’re here for the I.V.C, which she doesn’t recall being masquerade theme. The man picks up the mask and tucks it into his jacket with a heavy sigh.

“Now I don’t have a date,” he murmurs then looks up, his gaze meeting Tsuneko’s.

“Excuse me, sir, I needed the elevator.” She points over his shoulder.

“You just saw the whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Ah, uh, yes. Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just take the stairs actually.” She turns around, content to evade the awkward situation, then a hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her back. He’s  pulling her towards the elevator, she instinctively tries to get out of his grip, but he’s stronger than her.

“Aw, c’mon, no reason to run away. I’ll explain everything when we get there.” He continues pulling her away, he doesn’t seem to notice or care about her trying to evade him. A part of her wants to deck him, but that will get her fired in a heartbeat.

‘Sir, leave me alone.” She keep her tone even and stern, hoping something will make it through his thick skull. One more strong pull and he yanks her right into the elevator, making her yelp. She’s met with the sight of broad back, blocking the elevator doors and button panel. He jabs a button, the doors slide close, what the hell is this guy’s problem?

“Whew, I’m lucky I found another date. There’s no way I could go to the party without a beautiful woman on my arm.” He turns to face her, entirely too close, with a smile that would be charming in another situation. He’s trying to take her to the I.V.C, the ballroom is on the basement level, so that’s not that big of a deal. She just needs to get away from him once the elevator stops.

“Sir, I am not your date, I suggest you find someone else to accompany you.” She maintains her cool, taking a step back  as the weirdo inches closer. He’s acting like a desperate romantic, though he seems a little old for that kind of thing.

“What are you talking about? I was so lucky to meet a pretty girl like you.” Her back hits the wall of the elevator, he’s closed in on her completely. His hand cups her face, his breath fansn across her skin. Her cheeks feel warm, whether from anger or embarrassment she’s not sure. He’s not unattractive, an older man with shoulder length light maple brown hair. But, regardless of looks, he’s being completely inappropriate.

“Sir, I’m working, I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Her words don’t seem to have any impact, caramel brown eyes  busy taking in every detail of her face.

“Yeah, you’re just my type. This is fate.”

”I’d would hope fate wouldn’t be so cruel to me, sir.”

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open behind him with a ding.

“Let’s go, princess!” His hand is back around her wrist and he pulls her out before she has a chance to fight. She tries to step back and pull, or twist her wrist out of his grip, but she can’t manage. Punching him still might get her fired, but they can’t expect her to just let a guest do whatever he wants. Why the hell is he so strong?!

“Let go of me, now!”   

The noise of the ballroom drowns out her demand. She’s never been in the ballroom. She’s definitely never been in the midst of the I.V.C like this. The carpeting is a plush red, the walls have gold etchings, and white marble pillars are throughout the room. Everyone is dressed beautifully, perfectly tailored suits and designer gowns. They talk and sip from champagne flutes as they all bustle around. Spread of gourmet food are laid out, servers intermingle with the crowd, never letting a glass go empty for too long. An aquarium at the back of the room catches her eye, colorful fish swimming through crystal clear water, a dolphin passes through. The hotel owns a dolphin? She would have liked to know that. If the whole ordeal wasn’t a pretentious rich nightmare, she’d be into it. If only for the booze, food, and dolphin.

“Micchy!” A woman yells out and Tsuneko nearly slams into Stranger Danger’s back when he stops.. He lets go of her wrist and goes off towards the woman. All of this hullabaloo just to run off,  he seems more like a hormone driven teenager than a grown man.

“Hey, do you have any champagne?” A voice asks just by her ear, their breath tickles and makes Tsuneko jolt. Her face feels hot as she turns to find the source; a man around her age with strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes. She’s clearly wearing a maid uniform, not a server’s.

“I do not.”

“You do work here, right? You’re looking around like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, he’s cute, but something is off about him.

“I’m going to level with you, sir. I’m not suppose to be here right now, sorry.”

“That’s fine, hope you make it out of Wonderland, Alice.” His fake smile turns into a genuine smirk right as he leaves. Yeah, he’s definitely off. Still, cute though. She decides to shake it off and starts on her way out of the ballroom. It’s gonna take her forever to deliver those packages at this rate.

A sweaty hand grabs her wrist, bringing her to a halt, what the fuck now? The world is truly testing her today. It’s a stocky man in a garish green suit, he leers and looks her up and down, her stomach churns.

“Mhmm, I love girls like you. You wanna come with me to give me some special room service? I’ll make sure to tip you for the extra work."

“Gross.”

“What was that?”

“This is a hotel, not a brothel, sir." She’s able to break away from him much easier and starts towards the door again, he’s not deterred.

“You’re pretty lucky you met me. My net worth is 500 million,” he tells her, reaching out to touch her, she dodges him.

“Not enough for my dignity, sir." Her blood boils, at least Stranger Danger had the decency not to treat her like a prostitute. Does he really think her and the rest of the girls here are so beneath him and desperate for cash?Her hands clench into tight fists, she’s not allowed to punch guests. An unfortunate fact at the moment.

“C'mon, everyone has a price.” His hand presses against her hips, fuck this guy. She spins to face him, she needs to stop this, if she doesn't he's just going to hound every other female employee, until he finds someone he can bully into it. She’s not letting that happen.

“Look here, sir! I don't have the time, energy, or desire to deal with you disrespecting me and the hotel. I assure you, there’s not enough money in the world to convince anyone here to touch your pathetic excuse for a dick. Now, get your disgusting grubby hands off of me!” The color drains from the man’s face, when did the ballroom get so quiet? Just a few whispers, it’s like when she bumped into-

“This party is getting trashy,” a deep and sadly familiar voice rings out over her shoulder, making her jump. The asshole from the lobby was behind her, a group of women cling to and hover around him. They glare at Tsuneko, but asshole is glaring at the pervert. The look he gave her in the lobby seems downright kind in comparison.

“Uh, I'm so sorry Mr. Ichinomiya,” the pervert apologizes and runs off. Ichinomiya, that sounds familiar, but she can't place it. She rattles her brain for a moment, but she can’t seem to find it. The headache she has coming on isn’t helping. His eyes find hers, now that the pervert’s gone, the contempt has waned. It feels more like he’s looking at a fly under a microscope, like he’s trying to dissect and understand her.

“You again.”

“You again,” she mimics without thinking, her patience with the day is gone. His expression grows angrier, same for his groupies. She bites her lip to hold back laughter, normally she’d be more polite, but she just called a guest’s dick pathetic, so she might as well mock Ichinomiya, whoever he is.

“Get out of my way.” This seems to be his favorite phrase.

”Happily.”

“I hate when people don't know there place,” one of the women says as they move past Tsuneko. She forces a smile, but rolls her eyes once they’re gone and starts another attempt to leave this god forsaken party.

Her shoulder knocks into someone, making them both stumble.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her before going on about his business, as small as the exchange is, a friendly normal person feels like a breath of fresh air. Something on the ground catches her eye, a small good luck talisman. The cloth it’s in is a bit worn, black with small white rabbits. He must have dropped it when she bumped into him.

She tucks the charm into her pocket and finds his back in the crowd, she jogs after him. Calling after him does nothing, he either doesn’t hear her or doesn’t realize he’s who she means by ‘Sir’. His long legs take him further away quicker than her stubbier ones and she sees him go out door towards the back of the room. She manages to get through the door a few moments after.

The hall that greets her is absolutely empty, her heart sinks, he’s nowhere to be seen. Doors line the hallway, did he go into one of those rooms? She’d hate it if she wasn’t able to get it back to him. It’s clear he’s had it for a while, it must mean a lot to him. If push comes to shove, she may just have to put it in lost and found, but then there’s no way of knowing if he gets it back. She walks down the hallway, the dead silence is eerie after being surrounded by so much noise.

A few moments pass and she hears soft murmurs, they seem louder in the quiet hallway. There’s a door ajar, maybe that’s where he is, there’s a bounce in her step as she nears it. She peeks into the room; gunmetal glints in the low-light of the room. Suitcases filled with cash and guns are strewn across a table. Men in suits are standing around, speaking in a language she doesn’t understand. This is illegal, this is definitely illegal.  Her breath catches in her throat, she’s seriously watching an arms deal right now.

The world goes out from under her feet and she’s spun around, her back slams against the wall. She’s at least a foot off of the ground, large hands pin her in place and sharp blue gray eyes glare at her. Her heart hammers in her chest, like it’s trying to escape her rib cage.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is harsh and demanding. A part of her wants to fight, but if he’s involved with what she just saw…. There’s no guarantee he’s not armed. She’s not keen on being murdered.

“I got lost looking for someone, sorry sir.” She doesn’t let her voice break and maintains eye contact. Showing her fear won’t help anything.  He lets go of her and she falls to the ground, not too gracefully.

“You have five seconds to get out of here and forget everything you saw. Otherwise, you’ll be wiped off the face of the earth.”

“Understood.” She walks away, ignoring the impulse to run. Muscle memory leads her through the floor, the storage room shouldn’t be far away.

She steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her before she sits down on the floor. Her breath is shaky and she clutches her head in her hands, nails digging into the skin of her temples. What the hell is she suppose to do now?

She’s been threatened and there’s apparently gun deals going on in the hotel. People are getting hurt, there’s no way they aren’t if guns are involved. She can’t be certain how serious that man was about killing her. But, she doesn’t wanna test it and he didn’t seem like the kind of person to speak lightly.

Reporting it isn’t really an option; she has no evidence and there’s the whole being killed thing. Even if she is believed, if the hotel gets shut down, her and all her coworkers would be left without a job or home. Is the hotel even aware of this? Does Kenzaki or the owner know what’s going on here? Who even owns the hotel again? Some sort of CEO who’s head of a conglomerate group. What was it called again? Ugh, she can’t think straight.

She jolts to her feet, she needs to focus and get her shit together. Freaking out isn’t going to help anything. She needs to deliver those packages and go on with her work day, then she’ll drop the charm off in the lost and found. Work now, panic attacks later.

Tsuneko starts stacking up packages in her arms, her movements frantic and she nearly drops a few.. Her brain is a scrambled mess, she needs a dolly, she should have brought one over before stacking them in her arms. She’ll just carry the packages to the dolley, wherever the damn thing is. She can’t even see over the pile of boxes, she tries to look around them as she moves.

Something slams into her and knocks her back, the packages fall to the ground. A heavy thud rings out through the room, the sound of shattering follows. Her ass hurts and she can already feel the bruises forming. She’s spent the majority of this day on her ass.

“Fucking hell!” There are two men, they’re frenetic as they try to pry the lid off of a crate that’s fallen. She doesn’t recognize them, they’re not in any sort of Tres Spades uniform. Maybe they’re just here to move stuff?

The lid hits the floor with a clatter and she peeks inside, it’s filled with shards of what looks like broken glass. She can tell how high quality whatever the original object was from the quality of the material. It’s pristine and the light it catches reflects back iridescent.

“The statue's been smashed to pieces!” One of the men yells, his face turning red with rage.

“I’m sorry,” she struggles to keep her tone even, “I’ll talk to the manager, we’ll get it figured out.”

This entire day has been a mess, but if the worse thing to come out of it is having her pay docked for a decoration, she’ll be okay. It may be high quality, but she doubts a statue is worth too much. It’s just nice glass.

“This was the showcase piece for the auction! How are you going to pay for it!?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” she says again, but what do they mean by an auction? The men glare at her and creep closer, she takes a step back as chills run up her spine.

“You think an apology is going to cut it? You owe us?”

One of the men makes a grab at her and she throws a punch. Her fist connects with his nose in a spray of blood. The man staggers back and she makes a run for the door. His cohort gets in the way and pushes her back, knocking her flat on her ass.

“You really think you’re gonna get out of here that easy,” he taunts, standing over her.

The crate brushes against her as she scrambles away, she grabs a large shard of glass from it and buries it deep into the man’s thigh. He screams out and a gush of blood spurts out as she twists the shard out of his flesh. She clambers back up on her feet and makes another run for the door.

A weight slams into her back, her face smashes into the ground, her scream muffled. He presses his knee down on her back, his nails dig into the cuts on her hand as he rips the glass out of her grasp. One hand keeps her wrist pinned behind her, the other searches her pockets. She writhes and twists, trying to get out from under him, but it does nothing. He tugs her phone from her pocket and throws it across the room.

“I got an idea of how we can make our money back,” the other man says.

Wheels roll across the floor, stopping in front of her. She can’t wrench her neck up enough to see anything else. The man yanks her up on her feet and her heart sinks. A large golden bird cage glimmers on top of a dolly. Her throat tightens and her stomach churns.

“Do you just have this shit on stand by!?”

“Shut up.” The man in front of her opens the cage door, the other pushes her forward. She jerks back;  kicks and stomps at the man’s feet. He digs his fingers into her hand again, pain jolts through her and her scream reverberate through the room. Taking advantage, he shoves her forward into the cage. Her hand sting as she catches herself, her head nearly smacking into the bars. They lock the door behind her, tears sting at the back of her eyes.

“She’s a little damaged, but she should still be worth something.” The men share a laugh at her expense, they can’t be serious. They can’t sell her, that’s ridiculous. She can’t get a deep enough breath, her lungs burn. She can hear the pounding of her heart, feel the thump of it against her ribs.

They roll her out of the room, slowly taking her through the halls of the hotel. It’s mostly empty at first, but slowly more people start to appear, moving random things. From art to what looks like a baby leopard, it’s a mishmash of things being carried through the halls. But, no one seems to care about her. It’s like this is just a normal everyday occurrence. She shakes the bars of the cage, they don’t budge at all, she yells out for help. Nothing. No one bats an eye.

“Hey, where’s the final item?!” A young man yells from beside a pair of double doors, inside it seems to be a backstage area. Her kidnappers start explaining that there’s been a change in item.

She pries a bobby pin out of her hair, it’s mostly lose already, her ponytail coming undone in the entire struggle. Taking advantage of  her kidnappers distraction, she snaps the pin into two pieces and starts trying to pick at the lock. Her hand stings with every movement and she can’t clearly see the lock, but she’s desperate. If she can get it undone, she can make a break for it.

“What the hell-” His words are drowned out by Tsuneko’s howls of pain, his blunt nails dig into her open cuts pressing into tender skin and making more blood flow. The two broken pieces fall to the ground, he lets go after what feels like hours and she yanks her hand back, holding it close to her as she presses against the other side of the cage.

Her eyes sting, a few tears stream down her face. The men only laugh at her pain, she focuses on their injuries, the man’s broken nose and the steadily bleeding wound on the others thigh. It’s a small comfort to know at the very least, she gave as good as she got.

She’s rolled through the double door and her suspicions are confirmed, it’s definitely backstage of this auction, she presumes. As pointless as it is, a part of her is still hoping that’s a joke. It seems so unbelievable, like something out of a horror movie or a nightmare. She’s tries to steady her breathing, to calm down even a little bit. But, it’s all in vain. Her heart beat is frantic,  she struggles to breath, her throat feels tight, and she struggles to keep more tears from falling.

The backstage is a bustle of activity as she’s taken to just beside the stage, still concealed from the audience, but she can look out and see what’s taking place. It’s a huge crowd of people,  they watch the stage with rapt attention, faces concealed by masquerade masks. A man on stage talks and moves dramatically, dressed in what appears to be a mad hatter costume. His face painted a stark white and his eyes an unnaturally electric shade of blue.

A small clang catches her attention, she looks up and one of the men attaches a hanging chain to the top of the cage. Someone starts pulling somewhere and the chain starts to lift the cage off the dolly. Tsuneko yelps, if she’s suspended, her chances of escape become slimmer. It ascends higher and higher, until she knows that even if she could manage to shake the bars lose or bust the cage open, she’d fall and break something or bust her head open. The latter doesn’t seem like a bad option at the moment, at least it might kill her.

Slowly her cage is pulled to the side, taking her to center stage. Bright lights and eyes all trained on her. She’s really being auctioned off, someone is going to buy her.

“I present to you, our showcase item of the evening! A healthy young Japanese woman. Yes, that’s you!” The hatter gestures towards her with a flourish and bile rises in the back of her throat.

“Yeah, I caught that,” she screams back at him, kicking the cage. The bars still don’t budge, the gilded cage is firm and shows no sign of busting open.

“I’ll start the bidding at one million!”

Even if she managed to escape the cage and managed not to hurt herself in the fall, she’s surrounded by the crowd. There’s no way she can avoid being grabbed.

“Keep her as your slave, keep her as a toy! Do whatever you please with her, it’s truly up to you!” The hatter continues, not caring about her distress. She kicks and shakes the bars, at this point more an explosion of anger than a genuine attempt to escape, she screams in frustration. Tears prick at the back of her eyes and she doesn’t care enough to stop them anymore.

In the front row of the audience is a stocky man in a garish green suit, the masquerade mask does nothing to hide the pervert from the I.V.C. He grins and bids on her.  She looks behind her and sees a screen just above her cage, a number on it rising more and more. More money than she’s ever seen. Her stomach churns and she kicks the cage again, no budging. The most she can do is make the cage sway back and forth, nothing shows any signs of breaking.

“She is a feisty one, all the more fun to break her,” the auctioneer taunts, all his actions colored with the flamboyance of a true showman.

“If I could reach you, I’d wring your fucking neck,” she screams, her throat raw from the force of it.

“Going once, going twice, sold to seat one hundred for twenty-million!” The hatter says as a bell dings, the number on the screen behind her has stopped. She can’t make out what seats are what numbers past the first couple rows. It’s not the pervert, he’s seat number five. But that doesn’t mean it’s anyone better.

The hatter closes out the auction; the lights die down and the curtains close. Tsuneko sits and pulls her knees to her chest, her cage lowers down. It’s settles back down on the stage with a small sound, it makes her feel just a tiny bit better, slightly less helpless than she was before. Someone is still staring at her, she can feel it, even while she’s curled up against herself. Peeking up, it’s the hatter. His harlequin style hatter costume is slightly unnerving, his unnaturally blue eyes are trained on her, his expressions seemingly curious. There’s something child like to it. Someone yells out and he jolts, like being woken up from a trance and goes scurrying off.

Her owner, her stomach churns at the the word, should be coming to collect her. Maybe, this will be a chance to escape. She’s not in the best state to fight, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to take them down. She kicks again, a dull ache pulsing in her toes. She wipes away at tears, holding back sobs.

 Footsteps echo out, growing closer and closer. Two men make their way to her cage, the small silver masks do nothing to hide their identities. At this point she has to wonder if they truly serve a purpose beyond aesthetic. She can tell right away it’s Stranger Danger in his bright red suit and the cute but off guy from the party. If it was just the latter, she’d be able to take him. He doesn’t seem particularly strong, shorter and thinner than Stranger Danger.  But, she knows that the taller of the two was able to drag her around like a rag doll.

“This way.” Stranger Danger unlocks the cage door. She gives them wary glares  as she stands on shaky legs and steps out of the cage. Tsuneko hides her injured hand in her pocket, not wanting to give them an easy target if they decide to hurt her.

The men stay quiet as they lead her to an elevator, the only one that goes to the penthouse. Sure enough, once they’ve stepped inside Stranger Danger pulls the penthouse elevator key from his pocket. The doors close and the carriage lurches into movement. She knew they were V.I.P’s, but not very many people have access to the penthouse. Sakiko has mentioned some people who stay their. An artist, who’s name escapes her, and the owner of the hotel. Who the hell owns this hotel again? She’s trying to rack her brain for that name again, Ishi, something? Her brain is fuzzy from everything going on. But, if she’s being taken to the penthouse, surely the owner is aware of what’s going on. It would be hard to hide the auctions, especially at that scale, from the person who owns the damn place.

It’s a silent tense elevator ride, Tsuneko racking her brain for an escape strategy. She already knows she can’t fight Stranger Danger, but maybe she could make a run for it when the elevator opens, go for the stairs. But, if the owner is involved, she wouldn’t get far. She doesn’t exactly have anywhere to go other than the employee dorms. Waiting for a better chance might be the best idea.

The elevator dings and stops, doors sliding open. She’s never seen the penthouse suites before. They step into the hallway, red carpeting and doors along the walls. A huge pair of double doors standing out among them. The only employee she knows of that has access here is Kenzaki, even Erika isn’t allowed in the penthouse.

The pair push open the double doors and Tsuneko follows, it’s a lounge. Lavish, with plush chairs and couches. A large set of of red carpeted stairs lead up to another level, a large window covers almost the entire expanse of a wall, showing a view of the Tokyo Bay. There’s an extravagant high tech television mounted on one of the walls. Two men are in the center of the lounge; both of which she recognizes.  And there appears to be man passed out on one of the couches, he could be dead, she can’t be sure. The man who threatened to wipe her off the face of the earth and the asshole from the lobby, Ichinomiya, are in the center.

Ichinomiya. He’s the owner of the hotel. It hits her as hard as she hit the floor earlier. She sassed her boss. Prior to this auction nonsense, she’d be panicking, but the fear of upsetting her boss pales in comparison to the terror of being sold. 

“We’ve brought her,” the cute but off guy announces, he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. She’d like to punch him.

Ichinomiya sits on the red couch at the center of the lounge, crossing his legs as he looks her over. Him and the man who pinned her to the wall have intense stares, but she meets their gaze with the same ferocity. She’s not backing down. 

“We bought you,” Ichinomiya states.

“I noticed.” Her response seems to amuse him, a smirk plays on his lips. She’s just happy her voice didn’t crack.

“So, we ended up catching you after all,” the tall man who pinned her comments, his dark hair is slicked back and his eyes are sharp. Even without him having her against a wall, he’s kind of intimidating, or perhaps it’s just the situation making him seem that way.

“You know this woman, Soryu?” Ichinomiya asks.

“You could say that.”

“He threatened to kill me.”

“Yeah, sounds like Sor,” Stranger Danger says with a laugh, pulling off his mask and adjusting his fedora. Cute but off guy pulls off his mask as well, both completely nonchalant..

“Look, you can’t actually buy me, this is stupid,” she decides to keep talking, maybe the more she talks the more it will all make sense and she’ll be able to get out of this.

“Anything and everything’s for sale at the auctions. If there’s someone out there to buy it, you can sell it. There are no rules,” Stranger Danger boasts, no one here seems to care about the abject horror she’s been through.

“Yep, you can get stolen art, secret information about politicians, even hire a hitman,” Cute but off guy adds.

“This is actually the first time a person’s ever been auctioned off, though,” Stranger Danger’s eyes seem to soften a bit as he looks over at her, a shred of empathy seeming to make its way through.

“You must have done something pretty bad, huh?” Followed by the apathetic question of cute but off guy.

“I accidentally broke some statue, that was apparently expensive, or whatever.”

“The statue of Venus. If it’s worth anything, it’s here,” Ichinomiya states with confidence.

“You’re reckless as always. This woman isn’t worth anything,” Soryu tells him.

“I agree, let me go home.”

“But, it’ll be fun thinking up ways to use her.” Cute but off guy is smirking, he’s a shit head it seems.

“No, it will not.”

“Who gave you permission to speak? Don’t open your mouth unless I say so,” Ichinomiya demands; she bites her lip and keeps her glare. She wants to strangle him, she wants to actually murder her boss. This fuckwit puts her through hell and doesn’t even wanna let her talk.

“If you got a problem with it, would you rather go back to number five?” Soryu asks with a smirk, at least none of them seem keen on violating her in that way, but she just glares at him. She needs to stay calm, as difficult as that is.

“C’mon now, Boss…Sor. You should be nice to girls,” Stranger Danger talks again, he’s calling Ichinomiya boss, too. He’s really the one she needs to get convince to let her go.

“Listen,” she starts, no one stops her, “there no reason to keep me. My existence does not benefit any of you in any way, shape, or form.”

“You’re just trying to lower your value,” cute but off dude chimes in, he’s getting less cute and more gremliny with every annoying word.

“Besides, a cute girl has plenty of benefits.” Any brownie points Stranger Danger earned have vanished, his comment and wink makes her grimace.

“I sincerely hope you aren’t desperate enough to waste twenty-million on getting your dick wet.” She levels a glare at him.

“Looks like she already has you figured out, Baba,” Gremlin, as he’s now being dubbed, says through a laugh.

“You wound me, princess.” Stranger Danger, Baba apparently, responds with a dramatic sorrowful expression.

“You know about the auctions,” Soryu takes back control of the conversation, “we can’t have you running off and telling someone.”

“No worries, I haven’t suffered recent brain damage.” Though her face feels significantly bruised after being slammed against the floor, Soryu raises an eyebrow at her, “Worst case scenario, you kill me and best case scenario I end up unemployed and homeless. I have no proof, police wouldn’t believe me and you’d kill me for talking. Even if they did, if the owner of the hotel goes to jail then the hotel goes under and I’m out of my job and housing. I’m not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds me.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Ichinomiya smirks “you didn’t seem too friendly earlier.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know who you were, so,” his glare harshens, but she’s not done talking, “look, I don’t even have a phone to call the police. I’ll sign an NDA, confidentiality agreement or whatever, I’ll give you the legal right to screw me over if I even think about telling people about the auctions. There’s no reason to keep me, I’m not worth twenty-million, I assure you.”

Soryu looks to Ichinomiya, he almost seems to be on board with her idea. Maybe he’s not that awful, if he supports getting her out of here.

“Boring!” Gremlin complains, she could wring his fucking neck, but she keeps her eyes focused on Ichinomiya. He makes the decisions here, that’s painfully clear.

“No,” Ichinomiya says as he gets up from the couch, “I determine your worth.”

“What!?” Her voice breaks more than she’d like it to, indignancy ruining her composure.

“We bought you, you belong to us. End of story. You’ll be staying in Soryu’s suite for the night, he’ll assure you don’t go running off.” He’s still smirking, despite the fact that Soryu looks absolutely pained. Ichinomiya leaves up the twisted staircase, pulling out his phone as he does so.

“Man, Soryu gets to play with Koro first, not fair,” Gremlin pretends to whine, but he’s smirking; who the fuck is Koro?

“Time for introductions,” Baba winks at her, “what’s your name princess?”

“.…Tomori Tsuneko,” she murmurs, she feels completed defeated, there has to be a way out of this mess.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m Baba Mitsunari. I’m a thief, 35, single and ready to mingle. You can call me Micchan, Micchy, whatever you want.”

“Baba it is.”

“Pfftt, rejected. I’m Kisaki Ota, people call me the angelic artist,” Gremlin introduces himself.

“You already know Boss, so it’s Sor and Mamo’s turn,” Baba says, looking at the far less enthusiastic men.

“Kishi Mamoru,” The apparently not dead guy finally sits up and lights a cigarette.

“He’s a cop or unemployed, who knows?” Baba grins, “And the tall quiet guy is Oh Soryu, leader of the Ice Dragons.” Soryu looks so pained, you’d think he was the one who was just bought.

“Ice Dragons…?”

“Mafia,” Kisaki explains, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Enough of this,” Oh says curtly, “follow me, since I’m stuck babysitting you.” He strides out of the lounge without giving her another look.

“Sor’s kinda shy. You better go after him before he locks the door on you,” Baba tells her and she scurries off after Oh, who leads her down the halls towards one of the suites. She has to speed walk to keep up with his pace.

He’s stiff and rude, but if she’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty low of her current shit list. At the very least, he seems just as keen on getting her out of here as she is. His biggest concern seems to be keeping the auctions secret; she already told them she wouldn’t blab, but she gets the feeling if she steps out of line he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. And the fact he still seems like one of the lesser evils here despite that, really says something.

She’s follows him into his suite, it’s easily five times the size of her dorm. They step into the living room, more than likely where she’ll be sleeping. The couch looks comfy, she’ll manage for the night. Oh starts pulling off his jacket, then unbuttoning his shirt. She catches a glimpse of bare muscles before she turns around, offering him something resembling privacy. It might seem naive, but she doesn’t think he gonna try anything, he seems pained by her presence let alone trying to touch her. Footsteps ring out, Oh walking past her shirtless. He’s in really good shape.

“Don’t get any weird ideas.” He steps into another room, a moment passes and then running water. Sounds like a shower, couldn’t he have started stripping down in the bathroom? She doesn’t really understand the point of the peepshow, she decides not to ponder on it too long and instead lets out a heavy breath.

She slumps onto the couch, exhaustion settling in to take the place of her anxiety. Running away isn’t an option, despite how tempting it is, the Ichinomiya Group has the power and money to find her anywhere. She’s not sure how far reaching the mafia is and she doesn’t want to find out. Even so, she has no intention of giving up. She’s got to convince Ichinomiya to let her leave. Though, clearly it isn’t happening tonight.

Tsuneko looks at her hand, surveying the damage done by the glass. It’s starting to throb and ache more. The largest mark is a nasty gash across her palm, then smaller cuts around her fingers. It hurts more when she bends or flexes them, but the slash across her palm is more concerning. She doesn’t think it needs stitches, but she isn’t a doctor, so who knows.

Something glints and catches her eye, from under the chair. She leans over to get a closer peek and her blood runs cold, it’s a gun. It’s not shocking, he was the one who threatened her after she saw the gun deal. But, she still can’t help being afraid. The potential of him killing her seems even more viable.

The water stops, doesn’t seem like a long shower, a minute or two tops. She tucks her hand back in her pocket and presses her back closer against the couch as the bathroom door opens. His hair is no longer slicked back, soft around his face, but it doesn’t look wet.

“You didn’t try to run away.” He was just testing her.

“I’m not stupid.” She can’t help the vitriol in her tone.

“That remains to be seen,” that earns him a glare, “As long as you keep behaving, I won’t do anything bad to you.”

“Got it.”

He walks around the couch to stand in front of her, she presses further into the back of the couch, he’s in her space. Oh cages her in, arms on each side of her head and hands on the top of the couch, he leans in until they’re almost nose to nose. She bites her lip and meets his glare, her face feels hot.

“I have no idea what Eisuke’s thinking, but let's make this clear. You better not tell anyone what you saw today. No matter what. Telling anyone else is the same as signing your own death warrant. Yours, your friend’s, and your family’s.”

“Got it.”

“You can use the living room and bathroom, just don’t come near my bedroom,” he tells her as he pulls away, gathering his discarded shirt and jacket.

”Understood. What about work? If I’m not there tomorrow people will get suspicious.” She’s not sure if they actually would, if any of them would care enough to notice, but any excuse to leave in the morning sounds good.

“You work as a maid here, right?”

“Yes.”

“As long as you remember to keep your mouth shut and don’t go running off, it’ll be fine. Understood?”

She nods as Oh leaves into another room, she assumes the bedroom. Tsuneko pulls off her shoes, her feet ache just a bit. He told her she could use the bathroom and a shower sounds nice, but she doesn’t have anything to change into. Plus showering in an unfamiliar place doesn’t sound too pleasant. There’s a shower in the employee locker room, she’ll wait til morning.

She curls up on the couch, carefully finding a position that won’t hurt her hand. A yawn escapes her, she needs to think of ways to get out of this, but she’s too exhausted to think straight. The whole ordeal has drained every last bit of energy she has. She closes her eyes and slowly drifts off to sleep.

#kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #Soryu Oh #mamoru kishi #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #kbtbb eisuke #kbtbb soryu #kbtbb mamoru #kbtbb baba #kbtbb ota #black market wonderland

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Hello friend! I just went to a wedding and it was incredibly beautiful! So I was wondering if you could make a scenario of hawks getting married to his female s/o? This was my first time sending a request so I hope I did it correctly! Thank you and have a nice day! :)

This man makes me w e a k, and don’t worry anon, you nailed it.

I’ve always wanted to plan a wedding and see it play out. Maybe someday I will for real. Done, anon. (P.S. If you want an idea of where I got the color pallet in this chapter, may I draw your attention to my favorite ring in the world.)

The day he had asked you to marry him and you said yes was the happiest day of his life. He had spent time getting to know you, opening up and being truly vulnerable for the very first time, and you had never done anything but give and give and love him. He would rope the stars and the moon if you asked him, and he wanted so badly to declare his love for you to the world. However, your relationship had remained quiet and out of the spotlight. Especially since you were actively avoiding the attention he had taken measures to keep your meetings clandestine, to keep your name and face out of the public eye. A watchful fan might be able to sense something amiss (he couldn’t escape the spotlight forever), but they never had enough to do anything but throw out mere theories.

He wanted to give you the biggest fairy tale wedding money could buy, and he wanted to invite the entire country, if not the world to watch; but he understood your reservations about it. For your safety, privacy, and peace of mind a small wedding was worth the price. As well for him, the fact that you knew he would hand you a blank check for whatever you wanted but you still tried to keep spending down because you didn’t want to treat him like an ATM made him fall even deeper in love with you whenever the subject came up. 

He agreed to whatever venue and theme you wanted on two conditions: one, let him order some custom wedding ring designs because he wouldn’t have his one of a kind girl wearing a piece that hundreds, maybe thousands, of other women were also wearing; and two, spare no expense with the dress! He knew that a wedding was mostly for the bride at the end of the day; and he wanted to let you feel like a princes- no, a QUEEN on your wedding day without worrying about the price tag. He told you that come what may, when it came to looking back the photos of him fawning over you in that dress would be able to give you happy memories whenever you needed them, and anytime the everyday stresses of the world dragged you down he wanted you to be able to look at that ring and let it remind you that you were like no one else in the world to him just like that little piece of jewelry.

The venue was small and private. Only both your immediate family and close friends - heroes, high school, or otherwise- were invited. Just trusted people who had known you were together to begin with. He didn’t bother to mention the event to his sponsors. He wanted them and their world as far separated from you and your new lives together as possible. They didn’t care anyway.

It was a small, chapel-like building. A few rows of pews on either side flanked the aisle which was laden with a soft, white carpet and red trim. White chiffon hung up on the walls and lined the inside of the pews with small bouquets of red roses, ferns, baby’s breath and tiny sprigs of acacia blossoms. It was dark outside, and the light in the hall danced and sparkled from the crystal chandeliers which allowed the stained glass windows to display their full range of color without distracting and taking from the scene inside. That alone was picture perfect as Hawks waited at the end of the aisle, proud of your planning but increasingly nervous for the upcoming ceremony.

You’d caught that he was self conscious about the color of his wings in your wedding photos - lamenting that they might distract others from how beautiful you were in that white dress. Red was a far more dominant color, he explained. White disappeared and took a seat next to it unless it was an accent color, and his wings were just too big to pass off as some kind of “fashion statement.” He even complained that even if they were white it would be more attention on him than he wanted. But you were clever - or at least you had clever hero support friends with a knack for design!

You had called on their expertise to tie in the concept of white and red mixing together and complimenting each other instead of fighting for dominance. They came up with a fantastic solution of tying in two other main colors - stunning pink gold and humble burnt umber - as intermediate accents and trim. His tuxedo consisted of a white jacket and trousers, red cummerbund and tie, with pink gold and satin brown trim lining the lapels, pleats on his shirt, and shiny gold buttons and wrist cuffs with modest brown shoes. Though he didn’t usually appreciate formal wear he felt really good when he put it on, feeling like his wings actually fit the design instead of distracting from it. He was just anxious to see if this was how you dressed him, what did YOU look like? Luckily after the hours of nervous pacing, anticipation, and anxious bouncing on his toes for the ceremony to start he would see.

The music played and all the guests rose as the doors at the front of the aisle gently parted for you to make your way down. The sight of you in that dress was beyond magnificent and took his breath away. 

You had taken him seriously when he asked you to go all out. The flowing white skirt of the ball gown possessed a gorgeously understated gold lace layer over it and fell around you gloriously, demanding room and reverence around you though your gait denoted a calm spirit unburdened by the gaze of others. The white bodice pulled in at your waist and gently flared out to a Bataeu neckline that was a perfect balance of alluring and elegant - the shoulders of which were red chiffon blending in perfectly with the red bead work on the bodice fading down to white, and in the center of the neckline sat a simple round brooch with a brown gem centerpiece, small white jewels around the edges in a rose gold setting. You wore a choker of gold with red and white rhinestones that draped across your otherwise bare shoulders and dipped down in an arch delicately. Your chapel length veil possessed gold and satin brown trim around the edges to mirror the ensemble of your groom, though the smallest of red and pink rhinestones hidden in the lace would sparkle and reflect an extra splash of color. It wasn’t immediately obvious from the front, but as you walked up the steps to stand next to your husband-to-be a bright streak of red ran from where there were the gaps in the shoulder straps on your back (a subtle set of wings as a nod to his nickname, “Angel,” for you Hawks would come to learn later), together into the waist of the bodice, and then in one demanding band of satin red in a dramatic flair all the way down the monarch train of your skirt where it bled off into the red, pink gold, and satin brown lining for the lace layer that would sweep up into the two side panels that met again in the front at the bodice, allowing the gold pattern to end spectacularly around you and leave the panel of pure white unblemished in front of you, tying back into the solid white part of the bodice.

He couldn’t tell by virtue of being absolutely star struck in the moment, but he very well almost cried at the sight of you. Like everything else, you blew his expectations out of the water. Whatever he gave you or asked of you you always managed to return to him two, five, or tenfold times beyond his wildest dreams. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you approached, sure that he was either going to wake from a dream or just drop dead from the overwhelming weight in his heart. He noticeably jumped when the minister spoke up at the end of the music. If not for the rehearsal the night before, he would have forgotten to turn shoulder to shoulder to you, though he wished mightily he could just stare into your eyes for the rest of eternity.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” and the rest was lost on Hawks’ ears as he desperately tried to continue looking at you through the corner of his eye, which only made you blush and smile when you noticed. How the hell did you just manage to be even more beautiful than what he witnessed just now?! The ceremony continued on for both far too long and not long enough when he was finally broken out of his trance.

“(Y/N), will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” Your words were clear and even, though the way you blushed under your eyelashes as you looked to him betrayed the way your heart was racing.

The minister then addressed Hawks, “And will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?”

“I wi-Ihl-”  His voiced unintentionally cracked around the lump in his throat, and you could both hear a chuckle from the pews behind you. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I will.”

“With that, we would have the bride and groom exchange wedding vows and rings. May the ring bearer please come forth.”

Tokoyami had been incredibly surprised when Hawks had not only invited him to the wedding, but asked him to be the ring-bearer. The experience he had gained during his internship he had considered generous enough, but to think Hawks could have taken enough of a liking to him for this honor was beyond him. Reverently approaching from his place to stand next to the both of you, he offered your ring to Hawks with respect and Dark Shadow offered his to you with excitement before they both returned to their spot.

“Sir, please take (Y/N)’s left hand and repeat after me.

“In the sight of all these witnesses, I, (state your name), take you, (Y/N), to be my wife,”

He repeated in kind back and forth until they reached the end.

“...to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”

He looked down as he readied the ring he had spent so long designing onto your ring finger as he continued. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.” With that, he slowly slipped on the ring and allowed you to admire it - this being your first time ever seeing it. The band was made of small silver feathers that swirled together into a spun gold nest-like setting with a magnificent round fire opal as the centerpiece flanked by small white diamonds and a few, tiny, inconspicuous silver feathers tucked into the gold strands of the nest.

The minister then turned to you and asked you to repeat the same vows before you readied Hawk’s ring as well and placed it on his finger when you had finished, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.” It was a wide, masculine band, but in it were many gold feathers stemming from the shaft of a silver arrow that wrapped around his finger - the feathers meant to symbolize all that he had to give you; and the arrow his vow to protect you, his desire to provide for you like a feather carries an arrow to its target, as well as a personal point on the compass to point him home to you.

The minister gave one last address to the congregation gathered as you held hands and gazed into each others’ eyes, excited for the part to come next. “Now that these two have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife.

“You may kiss the bride.”

A thousand thoughts raced through his head as his hands gently, slowly moved to raise the veil from your face. This was it! In everyone’s eyes you were his missus, his wife, maybe the only thing in the world that was truly his. Your relationship had not been an easy one to establish by any means. There were tears and heartache and pain; and there were times he was sure that there was nothing he could do for you but to let you go; but even in the worst of circumstances you had returned to him time and time again and done nothing but hold him and love him. Everything in his world could crumble out from beneath him, but he would be able to fall safely into your arms - and really, wasn’t that what it meant to truly have everything?

He had genuinely meant to make the kiss short and sweet, but like many other things in his life his thoughts spun in his head too fast for his own good; and in the first split second he went from a gentle, chaste kiss with your face in his hands as the crowd applauded to pulling you close by the waist in a deep, passionate embrace to the sound a few whoops and jeers.

“Save it for the honeymoon, love birds!”

The comment made both of you blush as you pulled away from each other, but at this point, he didn’t really care any more. There was no more doubt, no more uncertainty, no more gaps between you. This was the first day of the rest of your lives together. He had you now, and he was never letting go. He lifted you up into the air and spun you around without regard, nearly knocking over the rest of the wedding party in the process.

This was truly the happiest day of his life!

#bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x reader bnha #hawks imagine #hawks x reader imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #ugh I'm such a sucker for love stories! #Especially from men's point of view! #thanks for this anon I loved writing it!

[taylorswiftfiction]

Together We Can Do Anything pt. 2

You know how when you’re counting down the days till Christmas or the hours until your best friend arrives time goes incredibly slowly yet when you have a meeting you don’t want to go to or a scary doctors appointment you blink and it’s time to leave? I was living in this weird in between. Time couldn’t go any slower when I was throwing my head of the toilet as joe ran into the bathroom after me but at the same time I felt like my body was a bit of a ticking time bomb. I wanted nothing more then for this to stay a secret  for as long as possible but at six weeks I was already starting to show. Just a tiny bit. Even joe wouldn’t be able to tell if I hadn’t pointed it out to him but it was enough to send my anxiety into overdrive. For now I could hide inside under baggy sweatshirts but Grammys were coming up and I had to go, by then I would be around 15 weeks. I had little hope of finding a dress that could properly conceal any signs of pregnancy. Like my week in Rhode Island our time in London flew by. We had planned to spend the trip meeting up with friends and having dinner with his family but the little love inside of me had other plans. For the first couple days i did my best to pretend it wasn’t happening and then it was all I could think about. I was terrified but joe seemed to have a solution to every earth shattering situation. We spent a lot of time talking and watching Christmas movies and cuddling and eventually he was able to work this baby into my heart. As soon as I let my self love this little one I started to feel pregnant. I was either puking, sleeping, or coming up with ways to not puke or fall asleep and there was little to no time for socialization. It was kind of unfair. I never really got the chance to celebrate and be happy. We postponed our cabin getaway until I felt a bit better. My first doctors appointment was in a few days so we decided to spend a few days in LA and then head to Rhode Island till Christmas.

The flight between London and LA was familiar and in some ways comforting. Joe was asleep next to me and I was doing my best to keep a bout of nausea under control. I pulled a ginger chew out of my sweatshirt pocket and took a few deep breathes. I closed my eyes, sat up, and continued to breathe deeply and tugging at my preassure point bands. The bands helped sometimes but mostly they just made me feel claustrophobic, regardless any chance of relief was worth it. Eventually my stomach calmed down and joe woke up. “Morning sleepy head” his hands stretched above his head and he took a deep breath. “Mornin” his speech was slurred and his eyes weren’t quite adjusted to the light yet. He pressed his lips against mine and brushed my bangs away from my eyes. “How’s our little one treating you today?” I couldn’t help but smile at the way he talked about our baby.  "Been better, been worse.“ He frowned sighed. ” well you know I’m gonna have to talk to him or her when they get here because making mummy sick is definitely against the rules.“ I rolled my eyes and giggled. ” you know it’s not his fault he need shitty hormones right now, it’s not like “yeah I’m gonna make her puke her guts out.” It’s just what happens.“ "He huh?” I had a feeling it was a boy, I didn’t really even let myself think about it too much. I had a lot more to worry about then if I would be dressing my baby in hair bows or bow ties but it was kind of just a matter of a fact thing for me. “I mean there’s no way of knowing I just feel like it might be a boy.”  

A couple days later I found myself sitting on an exam table in a paper gown waiting for the doctor. My blood preassure was on the higher side of normal but the nurse reassured me that nerves were likely to blame. I survived the blood draw and all that was left was actually talking to the doctor. Joe was reading through scripts on his phone and I was fiddling with my finger nails, a nasty habit I picked up in high school that I had been dresprate to drop. After a mineute joe put his phone away and reached for my hand. “It’s going to be okay love, you just have to relax.” The corners of my mouth curved into a small smile and his hand squeezed mine three times I love you. There was a knock on the door before it opened and a woman with shoulder length brown hair and kind eyes entered. “Hi, I’m doctor Jamison you must be Taylor.” I nodded and shook her hand before she turned to Joe. “And I assume you’re daddy?” He nodded and shook her  hand as well smiling at the word “daddy”. “So congratulations you are pregnant so you’re going to be spending a lot of time with me in the next few months. I do like to start every appointment by asking you how you’re feeling. So Taylor how are you doing?” I looked over at joe wishing I was 16 and he was my mom and he would answer for me but I’m a big girl and I had to speak for myself. “Um I’ve been pretty sick and tired.” “How often do you find yourself feeling unwell?” “I feel pretty nauseous almost all the time and I throw up on average like two-three times a day right now” I looked over at joe who was nodding his head in agreement. “ do you think you’re getting enough calories in a day to support a healthy pregnancy despite the nausea?”  "Um yeah Joe is pretty great at making sure I’m eating enough and I do feel better when I eat and drink enough.“ Joe chuckled and the doctor smiled at me. "I’m going to go ahead and start doing the examination but how are you feeling emotionally? I’m just going to press on your belly a little bit to try and measure your uterus.” Her hands were cold even over the thin blue paper gown and it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. “This wasn’t really a planned pregnancy so it’s taken me a bit to get used to the idea but I’m getting there.” “That’s really good. You should know that a lot of women feel that way and it’s completely normal. So Taylor I wanna go ahead and do an ultrasound. I obviously haven’t completed the examination but this seems like a very healthy pregnancy however I’m seeing some things that aren’t necessarily normal. Your HGC levels are bit higher then normal, your morning sickness seems quite intense, your uterus is measuring a bit larger then six and a half weeks and I just want to make sure we’re not missing anything. Everything could be normal, or you could be a couple weeks further a long then you think you are or you could have a condition called Hyperemesis Gravidarum , or extreme morning sickness and be measuring a bit bigger then normal  or a number of other things but I just want to make sure.” She did a Pap smear and asked a few more questions before getting the portable ultrasound machine ready. “Unfortunately you’re not quite far along enough for us to get a good view externally so we will have to go internally.” Joe moved his chair over to the side of the examination table so he could see the small screen he offered his hand and i gladly accepted it. After a few minutes a small flicker appeared on the screen. “So the little flicker there is the heart beat and the circle around it is the embryo itself and if we look just a little bit over, you can see there is another little flicker with another circle around it.” I took a minute to process the information and joe said exactly what I was thinking. “So there’s two? As in twins?” “Yes there are two, it does all look extremely healthy but there are a few more things we will have to look out for and you will be labeled as high risk but like I said everything looks normal for a twin pregnancy.” I wasn’t really sure how to respond. I had just gotten used to the idea of having one baby and now I was having two. She prescribed an anti nausea medication incase I changed my mind on avoiding medication and I went home and I cried in my bedroom. Not because I was angry or sad or upset but because I didn’t know what to feel. After about an hour joe came in a pulled me into his arms. “I’m happy I really am, I promise. I just don’t understand why life has to be so fucking hard sometimes.” He pulled away from me and wiped a tear away from my face. “I know this isn’t what we planned but we got used to the idea of one but we can definitely adjust our lives to fit around two.” “I know it’s just two means another kid I have to try not to fuck up and I’m going to show a lot faster and people are going to find out a lot sooner and I just-two babies is a lot ” “ first of all, you are going to be a fantastic mum, you have no idea how lucky these babies are. Second of all you are only concerned about people finding out because you’re afraid of what they’ll think and darling you have got to stop that. All that matters is what we think and I can tell you and I for one am incredibly excited. Two babies is a lot and it means a lot of shitty things. Were going to have twice the the sleepless nights and twice the dirty diapers and you’re going to be twice as uncomfortable and so many other things. At the same there will be twice the late night baby snuggles and twice and I love you’s and let’s be honest our babies are going to be fucking adorable and that’s gonna be multiplied by two.” I threw myself into his arms and laid my head on his shoulders. “I love you so much more then I ever thought was possible.” The next couple months were going to be hard, hell the next couple years were going to be hard. If anyone could do it, it was going to be us because together we could do anything.

#taylor swift fanfiction