#us watching as the cook spits in our food while he insists this is fine dining

[aritamargarita]

GOLDEN || 008

HOLD YOUR APPLAUSE!

now i welcome you back… you’ve landed at the golden train station destination, don’t forget your luggage when exiting the train yippee!

i hope you get a couple of laughs out of this…because after a certain point literally nothing is going to be funny anymore *WINK* you know, in both series, i think we just can't have nice things lol.

with this series of unfortunate events, i present to you [name]’s bizarre adventure. *lights dim, curtains fall*

THAT MATCH MADE you feel pretty unsatisfied. All you can hope for is that this future Sable storyline can give you more than whatever you're doing right now. The night is still young, so there are many things waiting for you.

BACKSTAGE // 7:24 PM

You’re the last one out. The other three were already making their way down the hall by now.

You’re not exactly satisfied with that match from earlier. Truth be told, you wanted to wrestle with Chyna a little longer. Even though you were goofing around, you knew for a fact that Chyna had more than an irish whip in her arsenal.

You want her at her full potential! You’re sure she wants you at your full potential too.

If only you were put in a storyline with her instead of Sable, sigh..

You're not exactly alone back in gorilla either. As soon as you hit those curtains, Bret was leaning on the wall. "Done for the night?"

You look at him with a smile. “Yes.” You weren’t really impressed overall with your match, and you’d tell him this much. “If you were watching, don’t be surprised. I didn’t do much this time..”

Bret shrugs it off. “I still think you did something out there. That’s all that matters. Let me tell you a little secret,” He comes closer so that you can hear him a little better. “Shawn’s got a real big habit of making things all about him. Trust me, I know.”

The way he said it makes you raise an eyebrow. Now you’re really curious..

“..Still, I think you stood out tonight.” He continues.

“Couldn’t keep your eyes off of me, eh?” You tease. “I get it. Everyone seems to have that problem when they meet me.”

“Your name must be trouble, then.” Bret grins at you. “Causing it everywhere you go. By the way, what ever happened to watching me wrestle? Think it’s a little unfair if I can only watch you.”

"Listen, I wanted to tell you sorry. I kiiinda just wanted to go back to my hotel." You explain. “Other than make that one ringside appearance, there wasn’t anything to do, you know?”

“I guess I better back out of our bet, huh?” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Don’t know if I can trust you to hold up on your end of the deal.”

Bret must think he looks really cool doing that. You’re almost flattered.

“Oh no!” You say, dramatically putting your hand on your chest. “Whatever will I do?!”

“Hmm. Could make it up to me.” He says. “What do you have planned tonight?”

“Nothing…but..” You cross your arms. “If you’re about to say what I think you are, I thought the whole deal was if I talked to your crazy friend?” You hadn’t seen Pillman the entire show, let alone the last show. “I haven’t even seen him yet..”

Bret shrugs. He didn’t have an answer at first. “Well, maybe the guy’s just a little shy. You might’ve missed him. I talked to him the other day and funnily enough, it just so happens he talks about you a lot. I don’t blame him, but if I were you, I’d check the match card for tomorrow.”

Hmmmm……

“You don’t blame him, huh..” Whatever that means. “And I’ll check. Now, what do you want from me?” You’re sure that Shawn must’ve been looking for you by now, especially since you fell back.

“You said you’ve got nothing planned tonight, right?” Once you nod your head as confirmation, he smiles. “We’re gonna grab something to eat.”

“Is that an order or a request?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

You’re not sure how to take that, but if there’s one thing you like, it’s people who are forward with what they want from you.

It’s probably another thing on your imaginary list that Terry’s instilled in you overtime. Closed mouths do not get fed. He’s got a lot of good lessons..

“Okay, okay. That’s fine.” There’s something else that’s been killing you, so you just go for it. “When you mentioned Shawn making things all about him, what did you mean?”

Bret decided to put it bluntly. “If you really want to know, he’s just a smart ass. Guy thinks he’s at the top of the world these days. I’m surprised no one told you what happened last month..”

“Not at all.” What exactly happened?

“Last month, I lost the WWF Championship to him and not in the way you think. That asshole put me in the sharpshooter and the bell rung without me even tapping.“

Damn. That’s crazy. You couldn’t even imagine the atmosphere backstage after.

The only thing you can say is; “Wow.”

He chuckles, which makes you tilt your head. “You should’ve been there. I ended up ripping a chunk of his hair out.…can’t say it might not sound a bit anti-climactic in my words though.”

“And this was like a month ago?!”

“Yeah. You just missed it. Believe it or not, we were actually pretty good friends a while back.”

“Seriously?” Though you’ve only known them for a little while, they seem like they’re from such different worlds. Then again, opposites do attract.

“Seriously.” He nods. “My only advice to you right now is to be careful who you trust. You’re in the lions den. Personally, I don’t think it’s wise to stay there.”

If you leave the “lion’s den”, where else could you go? You’re fully capable of making a name for yourself, but the ladder may work a little different here.

There’s more questions you want to ask. Hundreds of them, even. But things are cut short when you see Shawn yet again sauntering down the hallway with his arms open.

“Heyyy, I knew something was wrong! Didn’t see ya’ behind us!” He chimed. “You know you’re apart of the group, what do people say these days? No one left behind? Because you’re apart of the group, you know?”

He placed a lot of emphasis on group. Something that makes you look at him in confusion and makes Bret raise his eyebrow at him.

“Man, I sure LOVE being with D-Generation X,” He continues. “You know, the group. Now if you excuse us, we’ve got somewhere to be!” Shawn slings his arm around you and tugs you down the hallway.

“Sorry.” You turn your head towards Bret with an apologetic look on your face. “See you tonight?”

Shawn’s really starting to get on your nerves with this. It almost makes it worse now that this ‘Montreal Screwjob’ put that slight sour taste in your mouth about him.

“I feel like I’ve gotta put a leash on you or something.” Shawn chuckles. “Always wandering somewhere else.” You want to find the sweetness in his words, but you literally can’t. You’re too pissed off with him dragging you away like that.

With you giving no response, not even a sarcastic one, he suddenly stops. You step away and just stare at him.

With what Bret told you, could you really find it in yourself to trust Shawn? Could you even trust D-Generation X as a whole?

Somehow, you feel like the only person you can trust is Chyna. But maybe that’s because you have an fondness for her.

"What?" He asks. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

You simply shake your head and continue down the hall. The locker room must’ve been only two doors down.

“Woah, woah!” Shawn yells, speeding up so he can catch up to you. “Hold on a second there..!”

You don’t slow down or say anything to him as you open the door and head over to your things to hastily pack them. You need to find a nice outfit and you’d much rather do it alone.

Chyna and Hunter give a look to each other before turning back to you in confusion. Shawn’s making hand gestures towards you, but they have no fucking clue what he means.

You shoot the other two a smile before grabbing your luggage. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah…uh, you too.” Hunter replies.

After his words, no one really says anything else to you. The three of them just watch you push past Shawn and walk out the door.

“Man, you must’ve royally fucked up that one.” Hunter muttered. You didn’t seem to be in a good mood at all. “The hell happened?”

Shawn waits a moment before finally gathering some words together. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, it’s for her own good. You don’t get it, she was talking to Bret. Shady business, guys! We’ve gotta follow her.”

“I don’t think you should do that.” Chyna recommends. “You should leave her alone.”

“That’s a good idea.” Shawn thinks about it for a moment. “Buuuuut that’s not gonna happen. ‘Cause what if she leaves us for the Hart Foundation?! She was talking to Bret earlier. Sounds like they’ve got plans. Plans for what exactly?!”

“Dude…” For a second, Shawn thinks that Hunter wasn’t on his side. “…Holy shit, you’re right. She might just leave us. The woman’s new, this may be a test drive!”

Chyna couldn’t believe that Hunter was feeding into this. Seems like you couldn’t have friends outside of them. The more overbearing they are, the more you’d want to leave the group, and she most definitely didn’t want that to happen. “You guys—“

She tries to be the voice of reason, but the other two just weren’t hearing it.

“Get the car ready!” Shawn yells, quickly grabbing his own stuff. “She’ll be gone before we know it, this is a mission we can’t fail!”

You wanted to look nice. Not for any particular reason, of course. You think what you’ve scrapped together is good enough, so you pose in the mirror one last time for good measure.

This isn’t a date or anything. It’s just two co-workers hanging out in their spare time after the show. Yes, that’s right. Just two co-workers. It’s for business and whatnot.

Sure enough, the car ride didn’t entail anything that interesting. The two of you just sat in silence for the most part. Both of you were just focused on the road in front of you, with little small talk.

You didn’t know what to say. Neither did he. But there was a smile on your face that just wouldn’t go away as you idly drummed on your knee the entire time.

The thought crossed your mind to offhandedly mention how you almost cracked your head open when he called to tell you that he arrived. Just for light banter. You ended up not saying anything.

Finally getting there was different. The moment you two got out of the car was the moment you two could talk about everything in the damn world. At least he was nice enough to open the door for you.

You didn’t really know why, but you figured that you should get a feel for him, see what he likes to talk about..

This is really weird.

“Are you cold?” Bret suddenly asks. “If you want to, you’re free to use my coat.”

“No, I’m good.” You say. For some reason, this is genuinely making you nervous. Even though you’re hanging out.. “Thanks anyway.”

It is a bit chilly outside. Then again, it is December.

He opens the door for you again and you're suddenly hit with warm air. It feels much better. You just hope you don't start to feel uncomfortable with the heat by being there for too long.

It's not too much of a fancy restaurant, nothing five star or anything along those lines. It's just a local one in the town, you think.

It’s definitely not a Waffle House. This one guy in your life had a tendency to take you there at 2 in the morning and call it fine dining. By no means were you complaining about the food. The food is good. It’s just the idea.

The waiter greets you two. Bret’s the one that does all the talking as your eyes seem to wander off somewhere else.

You notice that it’s pretty quiet for the most part, though you can see people chatting away at tables.

Somehow, seeing people like just hanging around like this reminds you of when you were just like any other person. Right before you got into wrestling. It’s different this way.

The feeling of not being famous, you suppose.

It reminded you of that period of your life where you didn’t know what exactly you wanted to do. You guess you were at the right place at the right time because you got scouted in a strange way.

More than likely because you were nice-looking, of course. But you’re more than just looks and you demonstrated as such in your very first match.

Before you’re able to spiral in your thoughts any further, Bret has to tap you on the shoulder to get you to follow him.

“Whoops.” You mutter. And you follow right towards the dining room. Once you’re seated in a booth, the both of you are passed menus. “Ever been here before?” You ask, doing your best to make conversation.

“Nope. I just think it’s a nice change of pace. I’m the kind of guy who’ll eat fast food. But hey, I just said screw it, let me at least try to leave a lasting impression on a new friend.” Bret says, scanning over the menu. He wishes that the lights weren’t so dim in here…

“Ah. You and me both.” You too, we’re a victim of fast food. McDonald’s fries were too good to pass up. It’s like a tradition for yourself to go after every show.

Things are a bit different now. You want to try and get a better feel of the WWF’s schedule first.

On another note, it is safe to say you’re decently impressed. You just hope the waiters here weren’t as temperamental as Waffle House waiters.

“Hola! Oh shit, I mean, bonjour.” The waiter says in a terrible French accent. “I’m your waiter, Sèan, that’s right, don’t forget the apostrophe on the E, how may I take your order, eh?”

You don’t really comment on it, instead focusing on the menu. You’re not that hungry either. Somehow, that match had zapped away your appetite. Maybe you should just order ten cocktails and get drunk or something.

Actually, no, no. That’d be really embarrassing.

You lift your head up to give the waiter a smile, but once you do, it immediately falls.

…You look over at Bret, who was simply scanning through the menu unfazed. Did he seriously not know who this was?

Did his voice not give it away? You’ve gotta be kidding. This has to be some king of joke.

How did Shawn even nab a waiter outfit anyway? And most importantly, who glued that mustache to his face?! Is no one else pointing this out??

More importantly, he picked such a stupid name. Way to disguise yourself.

Still, Bret hasn’t noticed. But if he does, then you both more than likely are going to leave. While you’re pretty upset that he followed you here, you wonder how this’ll play out.

“Um..” You rub your temple. “Wow. Okay. Hi, Sèan with an apostrophe. Can I just get a water for now?” You start to wonder how in the hell he’s going to get access to the kitchen.

“Oui!” He gives you a thumbs up and you cringe. Honestly, you never thought you’d be in a situation like this in your life.

“Same here. I can’t figure out what I want for the life of me.” Bret says.

“You could get lost.” Shawn mutters, his eye twitching.

“Huh?”

“What? I didn’t say anything, kind sir. You wanted the water?”

As Bret gives his response to him, you start to wonder why your life has to be this way. Out of all things that could've happened..why in the world would Shawn follow you?

He leaves and you take a moment to rub your face with your hands. For once in your life, you'd just like to meet someone who wasn't that obsessed with you. You have had plenty of bad experiences already.

Meanwhile, Shawn is slightly panicking. You definitely knew that something was up. He goes over to another table, holding up a notepad. “Guys, we have a dilemma. I call this: Code Alfredo.”

“That is a stupid codeword.” Chyna blatantly says behind her menu. And quite frankly, she thinks what they’re doing now is stupid too.

Hunter slightly leans down the menu that’s covering his face. “I’m totally for it, man. Don’t worry. What happened?”

“I think she knows! I’m gonna try and get access to the kitchen. These idiots don’t even know I don’t work here.” He chuckles. “Slipped right under the radar. Hell, you could get your own uniform if you wanted to, Hunter.”

“Always wanted to try my hand at cooking.” He says. “Guess I’ll get ready for my shift, heh.”

“If she sees the two of you, she’ll know something is up. And I don’t want her to think that I had anything to do with this.” Chyna says, lowering her menu. But she, just like you, wanted to see how it’ll play out.

Shawn just laughs. What makes her think she’s not going down with this ship?! “The hell do you mean?! You’re deep in it now! You definitely play a part in this.”

“Ugh.” She groans, waving her hand and bringing up her menu to cover her face once again.

“C’mon dude. We’ve gotta get you a uniform.” Shawn nudges Hunter to get up. “And you’ll never guess what I did, I asked a camera crew to come over and we’re gonna….”

And back at your table, things seemed to be the same as always. You just can’t believe Shawn’s even here.

You’ve gotta find a way to make the best of this situation, maybe even try and distract yourself from the fact he came. Easier said than done.

“So, uh.” You cough out. “I’ve heard stuff about some kind of award show called the Slammy’s. Know anything about it?”

“Yeah. Most of the Hart Foundation is going, so I’m obligated to go too. I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to go.” He admits with a smile. “Thought it was dumb. Especially since I’ve already won last year. Three times.”

“Three?” You’re surprised. He must be good, damn. “What did you win it for??”

He counts them out for you with his fingers. “Best Submission. Best Music Video. Believe I was Hall of Fame bound as well.”

“That’s a lot stuff. Pretty cool.” You smile. And it was. You originally thought that you couldn’t imagine being picked for something like that, but apparently, you did! “I got nominated, too. Least I think I did. I think it was Miss Slammy?”

“Then I know who my votes going to.” He immediately says. “No question.”

You scoff. “Oh, you…”

“By the way, it’s pretty common for you to bring someone to the Slammy’s with you. Did anyone ask you yet?”

“No. Not at all.” To you, you figured that was a given since you were new and all. No one really knows you like that.

“Guess this is my opportunity then. Are you interested in going with me?”

Suddenly, yet another waiter comes by and you groan.

This time, you can identify him as definitely Hunter. He has a stupid chef hat on, and his glued on mustache may have been falling off, but he can’t hide those blonde locks of his.

“Compliments of the chef.” He sets your drink down and you look at it. Gotta be some variation of soda. This isn’t water.

“Hey, uh. I wanted a water…” You say.

“My bad.” He swipes it back up, then turns to Bret. “What did you want, dude?” Of course, his customer service was really bad. But you can’t talk…

“I just wanted a water too.”

You’re not understanding how Bret hasn’t caught on yet. Maybe he’s not paying attention too well enough. You kept seeing Hunter’s eyes darting behind Bret, which struck you as strange.

“Hey. Did you know Shawn Michaels won the Slammy’s five times last year?” Hunter suddenly says.

“What—?” As Bret is talking, a circular tray is smashed on top of his head and he crashes down to the floor. You immediately jump out of your seat.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.

Shawn dramatically rips off his apron and ushers the cameraman to come closer so that they could get a good shot of this beatdown. "You think you're better than us?! Tell your little foundation to stay away from our new recruit!" He kicks him.

"Stop that!" You yell. The attention was on all of you as Shawn continues to kick Bret. In attempt to stop his assault, you jump on his back. The people surrounding you are just enjoying the show at this point.

Because you're currently trying to choke Shawn out, Hunter takes over and starts laying blows onto Bret. Chyna has to come out of nowhere in order to try and separate you from Shawn.

Once she lifts you off of him, you look behind you. "Oh my god! You too, Chyna?!"

Well, now you know for sure this restaurant wont be allowing you guys to come back.

Ever.

i'd like to give an explanation as to why she stopped having “a thing” for shawn so quickly.…..the answer is clearrrr, it’s absolutely raven’s fault…she will never see being the slightest bit clingy as a good thing again LOL.

ngl this chapter was a struggle thanks to motivation and tumblr breaking every 5 seconds. i wasn't very happy but i think it just needed a new set of eyes (aka you who's reading lmao) i thank you for reading, big things are coming!

#wwe golden series #bret hart imagine #bret hart x reader #shawn michaels x reader #shawn michaels imagine #chyna x reader #chyna imagine #triple h imagine #triple h x reader #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwf x reader #wwf imagine #YIPPEEEEE *cries* #SÈAN DONT FORGET THE APOSTROPHE💯 #if u didn’t know it’s raven who takes us to Waffle House #us watching as the cook spits in our food while he insists this is fine dining #also be nice to waffle house employees they can fight LMAO #if you are still here remind me to buy another chicken quesadilla tomorrow mmmm

[after-witch]

Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s drugging you again. The bastard. 

Word Count:

Notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, medical/drug content

He’s drugging you again. The bastard. The world is too much--too bright, too empty, too heavy and thick. The drugs he’s giving you make you sleepy, slow, heavy. 

And the room you’re in is so empty. Bare walls and a bed and an overhead light. The familiarity--scenes of years ago, of weeks spent in a room just like this one--is gutting. You miss the side table next to your bed with your books and notepad; you miss glancing into your daughter’s bedroom before walking downstairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. You miss your daughter. 

You don’t know how long these things have been gone, only that they are gone, leaving you with nothing in their stead.

Nothing but him, anyway.

He’s sitting on the end of your bed again. Staring down at you, mask on, eyes piercing even through the heaviness surrounding you. Your arms aren’t restrained anymore, but every time you move, it’s clear why he isn’t bothering: with all the drowsy-inducing sedatives built up in your system, you couldn’t muster an effective attack even if you tried.

And you’ve tried.

“How are you feeling?”

The same questions, every morning.

You press your lips together and smack them. Your throat is dry. You hope he brought your water cup. It’s the least he could do.

“Where’s my daughter?” You say, finally, voice dry and hoarse.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“She’s safe. How are you feeling?”

“Let me see her.”

He shakes his head, a small, imperceptible motion.

“Not until you’re better. How are you feeling?”

His voice never loses its smooth, authoritative edge. You can’t say you missed this, missed the way he talked down to you like you were some weak little thing that doesn’t know right from wrong.

You lean back on your elbows, forcing your head to lift up enough to look him in the eyes. You try to muster an expression of disdain, but you don’t know if it’s registering anywhere but your own mind.

“Like shit. Fuck you, by the way.” You can’t help but take the tiniest bits of satisfaction where you can, and it doesn’t matter that your voice is hoarse and your arms are trembling and that you’re drugged to shit, because it gets a reaction fro him.

A small reaction, but still. His lips purse in a frown.

“Dear,” he says, oh-so-disappointed. “Your language.”

You let your arms give way, falling back against the pillow with a laugh that hurts your chest. Potty mouth, you think, I’m such a potty mouth. What did you read one time, some novel set in the American Midwest--better put a dollar in the swear jar.

“Stop being difficult.”

You snort.

Your head stays where it is, eyes following him as he retrieves a tray he set on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a bolted down chair, padded like a marshmallow. You’ve been tempted to point it out, tempted to ask him if he thinks you’ll try to smash your head open on a normal chair--why not pad your bed then, too? But he might just stick you in a straightjacket or something equally restricting if you so much as make a joke about harming yourself, so you don’t.

A rumbling, empty feeling in your stomach, the scratchiness of your dry throat, destroys any temptation to goad him more. He’s not above making you wait for food if you’re being testy, though you don’t think he’d go so far as to actually starve you. Just deprive you a bit, like he has a few times this week. So you force yourself to simply sit quietly and watch as he brings the tray to your bed, unfolding the little legs and placing it down in front of you.

He lifts up the cup of lukewarm water, a large blue cup you recognize from the kitchen. The little white straw peaking out of the top bounces around until you catch it with your lips. You barely listen to his words--’just a few sips, dear’--and try to ignore the tight, tingly feeling all this gives you.

Prickling humiliation, vaguely colored with childhood memories of hospital stays that made you feel helpless and alone, washes over you every time he gives you something to eat or drink. He always insists on holding the cup, on making you use a thin plastic straw--small sips only. He cuts up your food into tiny bites and only gives you a plastic spoon to eat with.

You dimly remember him feeding you thin broth some time ago, spoon knocking against your teeth every time you moved your head; but that was when your sedative dose was higher and stronger and you were so conked out of your mind that you kept calling him a doctor.

But you’ve graduated to rice and overcooked, bland vegetable that you can eat with a spoon. You know who he is, all the time, which honestly makes things a bit worse than when your stuffy mind thought he was someone else. Hooray.

Your fingers tremble as you press your spoon against the lumpy mash of vegetables. You can’t decide if he’s overcooking them on purpose or if he simply stinks at cooking now, having surely been years out of practice. They look even lumpier than normal, covered in a thick sauce; you bite down the urge to snarkily ask him if the sodium content from such a sauce is appropriate for your delicate health.

You’ve been his little home chef for how long now? Whipping up desserts and dinners like it was your profession. Whipping them up with a smile. And, before the birth of your daughter changed everything, whipping them up with a bright anxiety brimming underneath--anxiety for his approval. Did he like it? Was it too salty? The rice was cooked fine, wasn’t it?

And it wasn’t just the food, no. You’d wanted to please him in everything. In the way you cleaned, in the way you dressed, in the way you tried to soothe him after he’d clearly had a rough day while you sat at home, comparatively comfortable, reading books or fussing with the kitchen curtains again.

But true, honest (disgusting, dark, deep-seated) thoughts of pleasing him have been the furthest thing from your mind for years now. You allowed only the vainest of surface pleasantries to remain, for the sake of pretense, for the sake of getting away with the loving act long enough to get the two of you as far away as possible. Long enough to see yourself and your daughter free and happy, creating a new life--somewhere. Anywhere.

Well, look at you now.

A tear drips down onto your tray, running past your lips, warm and salty. The sight of the tear mingled with the smushed vegetables does it, brings you over the edge, and your shoulders shake helplessly as you begin to cry. You can already feel the exhaustion sweeping over you--the mere act of sitting up and crying and feeling something, feeling something so sad, means you’ll be out like a light soon. Your emotions feel so muted lately--the sedatives?--and when you do feel them, it’s so, so tiring.

His gloved hand brushes your cheek, brushes at your tear, and flinch away. You stare at the floor, white, bare. Rugs are a tripping hazard, you assume. Or maybe he wants to drive you crazy with all the light colors, the creams and eggshells and just-barely-there pale greys. 

You sigh, and look back at your tray. Your stomach demands it, so you lift up a spoonful of muddy-colored vegetables and take a bite. Despite your best efforts, the plastic spoon clinks against your teeth anyway. On your next bite, you go slower, steadying your hands--sometimes he insists on feeding you himself, if you mess up enough. You don’t think you have the energy left today to deal with that. So you eat, slow. Carefully. He doesn’t speak, simply watching as the plate of food, the vegetables and rice, slowly disappear inside you.

The sauce is salty and the vegetables are mush, but the rice is fine and you only wish there was more of it so you could stomach the vegetables more readily.

When you’re done, he holds the cup again, positioning the straw near your lips. You sip a little faster, greedy and thirsty, until there’s nothing left inside.

His eyes practically light up at the empty tray, and as he’s taking it away you leans in closer, whispering through his mask, “Good girl.”

Your stomach churns. Maybe the vegetables had gone bad. Or maybe hearing him voice praise that would have made your heart flutter before is making you feel sick.

After he sets the tray to the side, he takes his place--this time not at the end of your bed, but on the side, unnervingly close to you. You watch as he slides his hands behind his ears, slipping off his mask and setting it down on top of your bedspread.

But then he just… watches you.

You’re about to ask him what he wants, tell him to just spit it out already, tell him to fuck off if he’s just going to be a creeper who stares at you, when you feel something. Something different. A blooming, a wave, a strange feeling coming from inside your skin. Bone-deep, blood-deep.

And it’s then that you realize that he’s drugged the food with something new. Something strong. Something that does more than make you sleepy, like the stuff he injects into your arm.

Oh the fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. You feel it taking effect like a slow-going tide, radiating through your body. Tingles, light and airy, taking all of the sadness and stress and hate balled up inside you; soaking them up like a towel, until all that’s left inside you is a blissful feeling of forced relaxation.

“What did you do?” You ask, though it comes out as a whisper. Your head lolls a bit to the side. Was your pillow always so soft? You blink away that thought, try to focus on what’s happening: he put more drugs in the food, he put something in the food that’s not just to make you sleep and now your body is tingling.

He takes your hands in his--you dimly realize that you should pull away, but why bother? His grip helps your hands feel less floaty, anyway--and gives a firm squeeze.

“I know you’re still in there. That… untoward behavior with our daughter, none of that was really you.”

You smile. There’s a brief flicker of lightness in his eyes, but when you speak it flies away.

“You don’t know me,” you say, voice free of the snark and bite from earlier, but clearly grating to his ears all the same. 

Chisaki leans forward, and in your relaxed state you don’t attempt to move away. You simply register the closeness and focus on the way your body, your mind, is slowly deflating.

He squeezes your hands tighter. Too tight. They won’t float away, for sure.

“We’ve lived together for years. We’ve shared the same bed. We have a child together. You think I don’t know you?”

You whine--you don’t mean to, not necessarily, but your chest and lungs and throat aren’t cooperating. They’re too light for the sound you wanted to make, a guttural low sound from somewhere inside. Instead it comes across as childish and helpless and you suppose, that’s what you are.

“Lived together…” You laugh, shaking your head against the soft pillow. “But you kidnapped me.” He did, didn’t he, all those years ago. From a life you barely remember, especially right now; from people whose faces are scrubbed from your memory by time and trauma.

His fingers are stroking your hands now. It feels nice--it almost tickles. But the softness of the strokes, the way they tickle the tops of your hands, contrasts against his voice, firm, controlled, a touch of anger brushing underneath.

“I gave you a home. I indulged you in your interests, your hobbies, however silly. I gave you a family. Don’t act ungrateful.”

“M’not,” you mumble, reflexive more than reflecting. Trying to think about what he’s saying is hard, and getting harder by the minute. The tingling has now draped over your head and your thoughts are wrapped in cotton, thick and fluffy. You wish he’d talk softer. Everything else is calm, and the edge of something dark in his voice feels amplified a thousandfold.

“Look at me.” His voice is still too harsh. Maybe you should pet his hands to see if it helps, like it helped yours stay intact.

Before you can do anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t you love our daughter?”

Your head turns too quickly to look up at him, and you’re dizzy, but the words tumble out of your hoarse throat anyway.

“Yes. Oh, yes. You know I do.”

You may not remember the faces of others (your mother, your friends, your mother) but you remember your daughter’s face. Clear as a bell. Bright. You want to be with her so badly.

Another firm squeeze of your fingers. You squeeze back--hopefully it will bring him down to your level, to the cotton and balloons.

“Then why don’t you want to be with her?”

Why is he asking such a mean question? Your lips curl downwards in an unintentional childish mimic of a frown. They feel thick, almost numb, as you half-blubber out the words.

“I do want to be with her, but you won’t let me.”

His hands leave yours--you almost want to reach out, but they lay almost limp on your stomach--and he cradles your cheek instead. There’s warmth on your cheek and you realize that he’s taken his gloves off. Ah. Maybe your squeeze worked, after all; he only takes off his gloves when he’s happy, when he’s comfortable. When he wants to comfort you. 

Fuzzy memories of crying into his shoulder, of weeping openly on a bed in a long-forgotten room, mingled with the sensation of his bare skin against yours. Always soft, comforting. Enduring. Something you could rely on to release the pressure of your emotions and bring you back down.

“Because you’re unwell,” he whispers, voice as soft as the cotton wrapped around your thoughts. “You’re so unwell.”

The way he brushes his hand against your forehead feels nice. Maybe you’re sick, after all. 

You don’t even think about the words before you speak them, instinctual questions now going right from your surface thoughts to your voice and out your mouth.

“If I get better, can I see her?”

There’s a hand cradling your cheek again, and this time, you lean your face into the warmth. There’s that spark in his eyes again, but this time the look doesn’t melt away because of your ill-timed comment. You press your lips together to keep it that way, lest the thoughts flying out your brain make him upset again.

You feel so nice, like this, like you’re wrapped in the softest blankets in the world and there’s nothing, no hardness, no anger, no sadness, holding you down and making you cry. Just him and you and the warmth radiating throughout your body.

Why cry, when his hand is right here, when your body is so tingled and relaxed. Why cry, when all you can think about is how nice you feel, how calm he is, how calm you are.

Why cry, when the next words he speaks make your heart thud against your chest in pure, body-lifting joy.

“Of course you can.”

His hand trails along your chin, cupping it in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Now that I’ve found the right medicine for your… disposition, we can start the rest of your treatment right away.”

What he says should scare you. But there’s no room left in your body for anything but forced content and fuzzy softness and the smallest hint of deja vu, a wispy little thing cupping its hands and yelling warnings that you brush away with a smile.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #overhaul x reader #yandere bnha #afterwitch writes #part 4 will probably not be a full part #just a vignette to wrap up this particular storyline

[rowyn-writes]

Under the Weather (Jack Kline)

Warnings: Fluff, self doubt, sickness

Pairings: Jack x Reader, Dean x Reader (Platonically) Sam x Reader (Platonically)

Characters: Sam, Dean, Jack, Cas (mentioned)

Word Count: 1678

Summary: When you get sick, Jack's there to take care of you.

It was freezing outside. The first snowfall had made it's way through Kansas, and you were excited to enjoy the beautiful scenery. Ever since you were a kid, you loved playing in the snow.

You should have listened to Sam and Dean when they told you not to stay out there too long.

It just started with sneezing, which was normal for you since you had allergies, so you thought nothing of it.

"Achoo!" You sneezed once more. "Ugh. I think I'm getting sick."

Dean gave you one of his, 'I told you so,' faces. "What did we tell you about staying out there so long?"

"Yeah, yeah." You dismissed him. "Jeez, Winchester. You sound like my dad."

Dean, Sam and Cas might as well been your dad's, in all honesty. They had found you when you were thirteen. Your parents had been killed by a group of vampires, and you had been taken hostage. The Winchester's had found you, scared and confused.

They told you everything about vampires, werewolves, demons and everything that went bump in the night. You had nowhere to go, as your parents were your only family, so Sam and Dean took you in.

You stayed with Bobby most of the time, where he taught you what you needed to know about monsters and hunting. And when Bobby died, you were crushed. You didn't know how to cope with the loss, so you threw yourself into hunting, becoming one of the best hunters around.

You attempted to clear your throat, fighting off the urge to cough. Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll go get some cough syrup."

Jack entered the den, taking a seat on the couch next to you. "Are you okay, Y/n?" He asked.

"I'm fine, just feeling a little under the weather, is all." You assured him.

"But how can you be under the weather? You're inside." Jack seemed confused.

You giggled at his cluelessness. "No, Jack, I meant that I don't feel well today. I'm coming down with a cold. I'm sick."

"Oh." He furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm still learning the correct meaning of what humans say."

"You and Cas both. He's been down here for years and still doesn't understand a lot of sayings." You felt your body rumble with another cough.

"Y/n!" Jack said worriedly. "Are you okay?! Do you need me to get Dean?"

"No, no, Jack, I'm okay. It's just a cough. Besides, Dean's getting me some medicine to stop it. Don't worry."

Not even a few seconds later, the oldest Winchester walked in and tossed you a bottle of cough syrup. "Drink up, kiddo."

You gave a disgusted look as you drank the bitter liquid. "Yuck."

"It's your own fault, Y/n. Sam and I told you not to stay outside too long." Dean reprimanded you. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

"Yeah, but it was worth it, right, Jack?" You asked, looking over at the Nephilim.

"It was!" Jack agreed. "Y/n and I made a snowman and built a fort!" Dean cracked a smile as he looked at you and Jack.

You felt your eyes begin to droop closed, feeling exhaustion overcome you. Neither Dean nor Jack bothered to wake you up, as you looked so tired.

Dean sighed as he looked at his phone. "Alright, I got a case to go work. Jody and Donna need help with what looks like a skinwalker. Watch over Y/n while she sleeps. Get her anything she needs. I would move her to her room, but I don't want to wake her. And if she wakes up and tries to join me and Sam, stop her. She's way too sick to gank some monsters." He gently kissed you on the head before saying goodbye to Jack.

As Dean watched you grow up, you had become a sort of little sister/daughter to him. Along with Sam, he always put you first. Although, Dean secretly wished you weren't a Hunter and went to college, like other people your age.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" Jack asked, making you jump.

"Jesus Jack! You scared me." You pressed a hand to your chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized.

"It's fine, I just thought I was alone. Where's Dean?"

"He's out with Sam on a case. Something about a skinwalker?" You threw the blanket off your body and began walking to your room. "Where are you going?" Jack asked, following you.

"To help Sam and Dean."

Dean's words floated in the back of Jack's mind. "Wait, Y/n. You can't go, you're sick."

You dismissed him, not listening to his words as you slipped on your shoes. "They need my help, Jack. We never go hunting without each other."

You stood up too quickly, becoming lightheaded. You stumbled slightly, but thankfully Jack caught you, steadying you. "You're not going anywhere. Sam and Dean can handle this." You sighed as he gently pushed you back down on the bed. He untied your shoes and set them aside. "You need to rest."

You pouted. "But I'm not tired. How about we watch Netflix?" 

Jack agreed excitedly, as you had gotten him hooked on a show called Grey's Anatomy. You scooted over in your bed to make room for the tall boy. You got out your laptop and set it in your lap, clicking on the show. After a while, you felt your stomach rumble.

"Are you hungry?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, a little." You admitted. Jack nodded as he stood up and walked out. You gave him a confused look. You wanted to follow him, but you were so tired you doubted that you would make it to the kitchen. About ten minutes later, he returned with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

"Here. Sam told me that when humans get sick, this is what they eat to make them feel better." He handed you what looked like a heated up can of chicken noodle soup and herbal tea. You gave Jack a smile as you happily accepted the food. As soon as the soup hit your taste buds, you wanted to spit it out, but you begrudgingly swallowed it. 

"This is amazing, Jack!" You lied with a smile on your face. "Thank you."

"Oh, I was worried that you might not like it. I've never cooked before." Jack sat back down next to you on your bed. You quickly downed the soup and drank the tea he had provided for you. You felt yourself becoming drowsy once more. Due to the lack of room on the bed, you snuggled yourself into Jack's side.

He slowly wrapped his arm around you, feeling awkward, but at the same time, he felt butterflies in his stomach. "Hey, Y/n?"

"Yeah?" You opened your eyes sleepily.

"How do you know if you're in love?"

That woke you up. "Oh, well, I don't really know. I've never been in love."

"You haven't?" Jack asked.

"No. Although, I haven't really had the chance to fall in love. I've grown up with Sam and Dean on the road, so I couldn't really make relationships like that." You paused for a moment. "But from what Sam and Dean have told me, it's not just a crush or something trivial. I think it's like you would do anything to make them happy, even if it hurt you. You would sacrifice everything if it meant that they would be content."

"Oh," Jack nodded. "Then I'm in love with you."

"What?!" You sat up. "Jack, you're not in love with me."

Jack sat up as well, his arm falling to his side. "But I am. I would do anything to make you happy."

"Yeah, but Jack, that different. I would do anything to make you, Sam, Dean, and Cas happy, but that doesn't mean I'm in love." He was obviously confused, there was no way he could be in love with you.

"But it feels different with you than it does anyone else. I want to be around you all the time, you make me laugh, and you teach me all kinds of cool things and different words, like fu-"

You covered Jack's mouth with your hand. "Don't say that word in front of anyone. You can only say it if it's just us." Jack nodded as you pulled your hand away.

"Why can't I be in love with you?" He asked.

You sighed as you looked at the Nephilim. You cared for him deeply, and you would go as far as to say you do love him, but there was no way he could love you.

"Jack, I'm not the type of person you fall in love with. I'm not a size 2, I'm a size 20, I'm not pretty, or smart or anything like that."

"But I think you're beautiful and intelligent. I don't care about those superficial things, Y/n. I think you're amazing."

You could feel your heard beating out if your chest. No one had ever told you these things, no one that mattered, anyways.

"Jack, you don't love me." You insisted.

"I do. Please, let me be in love with you." You didn't say anything as Jack leaned in to kiss you. You let his lips skim over yours before pulling away.

"Jack, I'm sick." You protested.

"I can't get sick." He grinned.

You felt yourself smile as you kissed him, his mouth fitting perfectly with yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as he cupped your face. You had no idea how Jack was such a good kisser, but he was amazing.

Suddenly, the door swung open. "Hey, kiddo, you doing o-" You and Jack jumped apart, looking over to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway.

"W-what are you doing back so early?" You stuttered.

"Jody and Donna didn't need our help after all." Sam mumbled, a shocked look on his face.

"Jack," Dean said lowly. "When I said take care of Y/n, this is not what I meant!"

#castiel imagine #jack kline imagine #sam winchester imagine #spn imagine #supernatural fluff #supernatural imagine #gabriel imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #jack kline #jack kline x reader #jack kline x y/n

[bi-naesala]

A "romantic" bathroom confession

Fandom: Yakuza Rating: G Warnings: / Relationships: Han Joon-gi/Zhao Tianyou Characters: Zhao Tianyou, Han Joon-gi, Kim Yeonsu Additional Tags: Emotional Constipation, Love Confessions Summary:

Sure, he could ask him directly what’s going on, but he has the feeling that, by asking him, they’ll both have to uncover some parts of themselves that Zhao doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to show the other, not when they’ve lived so long without ever showing their cards to anyone. No, he’d better not ask. Who knows if he’d like the answer Han gives him anyway.

(Also on AO3)

It’s been a couple of days since when… well, Zhao doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Han has been acting weird: at first, he was quiet, or at least quieter than usual, then he’s begun doing some small things that can only perplex Zhao.

First things first, the pda. Well, to normal couple standards it isn’t much, but considering that we’re talking about Joon-gi Han, it is: he’s begun hovering over him during every moment of pause, going even as far as brushing their shoulders together or even hold his hand and doing all those romantic gestures that a one-week boyfriend would make in order to impress you, which isn’t something that Han really has to do: he’s already impressive on his own, without the need for any of this.

Not that Zhao doesn’t enjoy being pampered, don’t get him wrong, but this doesn’t mean that this sudden change of behavior doesn’t confuse him.

Is Han planning something? He can’t help but to wonder about that…

Sure, he could ask him directly what’s going on, but he has the feeling that, by asking him, they’ll both have to uncover some parts of themselves that Zhao doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to show the other, not when they’ve lived so long without ever showing their cards to anyone.

No, he’d better not ask. Who knows if he’d like the answer Han gives him anyway.

  When Zhao takes his first step outside Survive, he almost jumps when he notices Han, crouched down in front of a vase, the one usually Ichiban uses to in order to grow vegetables for the barkeeper. That’s not something he was expecting to see. Curious.

“Han-chan, what are you doing there?”

“Oh?” Han turns his head towards him, not having noticed him there at first. “Nothing much. I’m watching them grow.” Them being two plants of lillies, who everyone knows is his favorite.

“Are these the ones Kasuga-kun said he was trying to grow?” he asks then, crouching down beside Han.

“No,” the other replies, not moving his gaze away from the blossoming flowers. “These I planted myself.”

Zhao hums at those words, though his face betrays no emotion.

 What the hell is this?

Now, Zhao doesn’t want to make assumptions, but it’s pretty fucking obvious what Han wants to do with the flowers he’s going to harvest, c’mon!

Why is he doing all this? They’re already together, there’s no need for any of this typical couple bullshit!

 Oh well, if one day Han shows up with a bouquet for him, he’s not going to complain.

After all, thinking about it, there’s a place that needs a bit of… something. Yeah, a nice vase of flowers over the shelf at the entrance would look nice, thinking about it.

  Usually, when they want to have dinner, they’d go to Meng Wu and Zhao would cook something for them, which might seem cheap, but they don’t mind it. Besides, it feels more intimate like this, and it’s also good since they don’t really want to draw attention to themselves and in Meng Wu that’s not going to happen.

This time, however, things are different: Han has insisted upon taking Zhao to dinner and, after a moment of perplexity, Zhao has accepted, because he doesn’t mind change and he’s curious to see where Han’s taking him.

 “Wow…” is all Zhao is able to say once he realizes where Han is taking him, standing in front of the entrance of the place.

Of all things, he wasn’t expecting Le Nouveau Hama. It’s very different from the usual restaurants they go to - they never go anywhere this fancy, even with the others.

He turns towards Han. “You managed to book us a table here?”

“Impressed?” Han replies. He looks very pleased with himself, and for once Zhao can’t really blame him.

No, he can’t blame him at all.

 As soon as they enter, Zhao feels immediately gazes drawn towards them. Maybe they should’ve dressed more accordingly to the place they’ll be eating at, instead of wearing the same kind of clothes they’d wear on the adventure with the others, but heh, who cares.

At least the waiter that greets them does nothing to make them feel like they don’t belong here.

“Good evening gentlemen, did you have a reservation?” he asks them.

“Indeed we do,” Han replies, still looking quite happy with himself.

“Of course. Follow me.”

 Once they get to their table, they sit down and begin to skim through the menu. Ooooh, so many things Zhao would like to try, but the budget…

“Ah, I forgot to mention this to you, but I would like to pay for both of us today.”

Zhao almost reels back at those words, staring at the man sitting in front of him. “Really?”

Han nods. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to do something like this for a while…”

Again, Zhao wonders what Han’s playing at, being all nice and chivalrous like this. First the flowers - which now indeed sit on the shelf like Zhao had planned - and now this; he must have something in mind, mustn’t he?

Eh, what the hell. After all, it works for him.

“Alright. Sounds good to me.”

 Despite the fact that Han’s paying, Zhao still decides not to go too overboard with his order, because he’s not a fucking asshole.

Han doesn’t say anything about it, but Zhao is able to see a shadow of relief in his eyes, and he can’t help but to chuckle at that.

See, that’s what you get when you try to be romantic.

  Zhao has to admit it: the food here is divine.

The tartare is exquisite, and the lobster is too. He would love to have a chat with the chef responsible for these delicacies, and maybe even exchange recipes, but at the moment this isn’t what he’s thinking about.

They’ve both been quite talkative today, and he means both of them, when usually Zhao’s the one running his mouth while Han nods along. It’s like Han’s putting more effort than usual… but this is too much for Zhao.

 “Why are you doing this?”

Han looks at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Zhao chastises him, then he gestures to all around him. “This. What the hell is this? You think we’re in some kind of romantic comedy where any of this is necessary?”

Han remains silent, prompting Zhao to continue.

“What is it that you’re after, Han-chan? I mean, there’s no need to get into my panties ‘cause you already do that, so what is it?”

Still silence from Han, at least until he abruptly gets up from his seat and begins to walk away.

“Excuse me.”

 Uhm…

“No, wait, Han-chan come back! I didn’t mean--”

Didn’t mean what, exactly, huh? To spit all that shit while Han was just trying to be nice?

It’s always like this with him: people try to get close, only for him to push them away. Old habits die hard, and Zhao has always had to keep himself and others around him in check; he was supposed to be the leader of the Liumang, and you can’t do that if you don’t learn how to shield yourself from potential threats, and sharing a strong bond with someone is the biggest threat of them all.

The problem with Han is that they have gotten incredibly close, so Zhao’s old instincts kick in, but does he want to push him away? Not really. He’s not the leader anymore, he’s nothing, actually. What would the harm be in trying to have something with someone he - even though it’s hard to admit it - cares about?

 Goddamn… he’s ruined everything with his damned own hands, hasn’t he?

No, maybe he can still save it, if only he could manage to get up from this fucking chair.

Where did Han go? Ah, the bathroom. At least he hasn’t left the building, which Zhao supposes is a good sign - or maybe just a not so bad sign.

There’s only one problem: if he follows him, if he manages to get him to hear him out… he’ll have to be honest, and for him there’s nothing scarier than having to be honest about what’s going on inside his head.

Isn’t the same for Han, though? That’s the reason why they get along so well, because they understand that sometimes you just not want to talk about that stuff and that’s fine, and yet he’s going all the way to do all these romantic gestures that have surely cost him a lot of effort, all for his sake.

… Maybe being opening up wouldn’t be so bad now, wouldn’t it?

 He finally manages to get up.

Fuck it. It’s about he and Had have an honest conversation anyway.

  When he gets to the bathroom, he finds Han in front of one of the sinks. He must’ve washed his face because it’s still wet, but he’s doing nothing to dry it, instead he keeps looking in the mirror on the wall, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Han-chan…”

Those words manage to snap Han out of whatever mood he was in, and he turns towards Zhao, looking slightly surprised to see him there. “Uhm, Zhao… You’re here too.”

“No, I’m just a figment of your imagination,” Zhao instinctively replies, before remembering that he’s supposed to be nice this time. He shakes his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean that…”

C’mon, Zhao. Take a nice, deep breath, and fucking talk.

 “Ok, look, Han-chan, I’ve… I’ve been unfair to you. You were doing all these nice things, and I’ve got on the defensive. The truth is that I like you, I like being with you and do crazy shit together and not just that. Even the normal stuff, the domestic shit… I really like that.”

Han looks shocked by what Zhao has just said. Heh, he’s just as shocked, to be quite honest.

“I wasn’t expecting this thing we had to become so important to me. Honestly I thought it would be a nice fling and nothing more, and I bet you thought that too, but we’re both fools and got trapped into our own feelings.”

That earns him a chuckle on Han’s part, and he can’t help but to do the same. Yeah, they are both huge idiots.

“When you started doin’ all this nice stuff I panicked. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to face my feelings, so I began lying to myself, pretending that I didn’t understand why you’d go all the way to do something like this, and for me of all people…”

He scratches his neck. “As you can definitely see, I’m not that good at this kind of stuff…”

“I can see that,” Han replies, a small smile on his face that becomes larger as he goes on. “Such a heartfelt confession deserves a better place than a public bathroom, don’t you think?”

This fucking asshole.

Despite the roasting - which he frankly deserves - Zhao can’t help but to laugh. “See? Just proven my own point.”

“I do appreciate it, though,” Han replies, still smiling, then he turns serious. “I came here to find the right words to say, but it seems that you’ve beaten me to the punch.”

Zhao crosses his arms to his chest, shifting his weight on his other leg. “Well? We’ve got one heartfelt bathroom confession, why not having another?”

Han chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure, why not?”

 “As you correctly guessed, I’m not the sort of guy to whom this kind of things comes easily, but I knew that it would be worth it in the end, but to tell the truth, I was just being a coward.”

Zhao opens his mouth to interject, but Han raises his hand, prompting him to wait for him to explain himself.

“I started doing this because I wanted to tell you how I felt, but was too scared to actually do it, figuring that you’d understand what I meant without me having to actually say the words. I too was afraid of what would happen if I spoke honestly. I didn’t want to feel that exposed…”

“And here we are now,” Zhao can’t help but to say.

Han nods. “And here we are now…”

He hesitates just for a moment before stepping towards Zhao.

“But I can’t hide anymore the fact that I like…” he stops, frowning. “No, not just like. I… I love you.”

Zhao’s first instinct is to ask him why, why would he love someone like him? But at this point they’re both way past that. Sometimes you just love someone without reason, even though admitting it can be very hard. He knows it.

“I… I love you too.”

 He wonders if Han feels as light as he does, having finally admitted it, but he’s not able to ask him because he’s kissing him and, frankly, he doesn’t want to pull away at all, not when Han’s lips taste so sweet.

Unfortunately it doesn’t last as long as both of them would’ve liked, but after all they’ve been missing from their table for who knows how long; someone might get worried and come check on them.

“How about we go back to our meal, and then finish this when we get back?” Zhao proposes.

“Sounds good to me,” Han replies, going to the door and opening it for Zhao. “After you.”

Before, Zhao would’ve gotten irritated at the gesture, but now he just chuckles as he walks out of the bathroom.

“Such a gentleman~”

  The rest of their dinner goes splendidly, now that they’ve both said their pieces.

If they had known that being honest with each other wouldn’t have had disastrous consequences, they might’ve done it earlier, but in the end, they did when they were ready, which is how these things should go, isn’t it?

 It’s still quite a shock that, of all places, they’ve decided to bare their souls inside a restroom, but oh well, so is life.

At least, it’ll make up for a great story to tell, that’s for sure.

#zhaohan #tianyou zhao #joon-gi han #yakuza #rgg #y7 #my fics #mine #last fic for the exchange

[they-callme-ami]

Double Dutch. (aka the drunk! Elijah, Aurora, black!MC and Tobias fic)

Note: This story uses lots of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and is mostly intended for a black audience--you can still read for funsies or whatever, but I better not hear some shit about it not being inclusive or using 'improper grammar'.

Tags: @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @tyrils-star @melaninnntae @indescribablybre @prism-goddess

It started innocently enough: you were helping Aurora wrap her hair, pinning it up and tying the scarf around it.  Elijah rolled into the living room in his pajamas. You three were the only ones at home since you three had worked later than Jackie, Bryce and Sienna and didn’t feel like going out that night.  But y’all weren’t opposed to chillin and talkin’ shit. 

It had been a long ass day. Ethan was getting on every damn nerve you had, either talking about his mom and their strained relationship or bugging you about your cases. The man just did not leave you alone, and normally it was cool--but today he needed to back the fuck up and stop talkin shit about Tobias. It was gettin old. Not only that, but you had your own intern to deal with--which is what you were going on about now.

“I’m telling you Elijah--I love Esme but that girl is too fuckin much!  She always stay talkin back to the other attendings, nearly started a fight with another intern, and even when she asks for my advice she don’t listen! Thinkin she know everything….fuckin stubborn headass..” You sigh while twisting your hair.  

“Uh-huh. Sounds like a familiar head-ass doctor I know.  You were on trial last year, stoopid!  I know your ass not talkin bout Esme.  She’s a breeze compared to Sothy… he barely knows how to do anythin--it's a damn miracle he graduated y’know.”

“And who’s fault is that Elijah--oh, excuse me, Oracle.”  Aurora smirked and laughed as Elijah could only sit there, ultimately taking the L.

As y’all were about to go in on each other, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! Finally, must be the package I ordered.  I hope y’all are ready to see me strut the halls in my new---”  You open the door, only to see Tobias there in some sweats with some take out food and a paper bag.

“Not a package, but I’d love to see what you plan on struttin in.”  He teased and smirked.

“SHIT---Uh---why are you here so late---”  You had your bonnet on and a big ass t-shirt with some stains on it and some basketball shorts.  It was the first time he'd seen you so casual.

"Easy there firecracker, I didn't expect you to look--what are the kids saying--'beat and snatched' 24/7." He pecked your lips and walked in. 

“I invited him Y/N. Tobias, don't ever try and say that shit again and bring me my wings.”  Aurora smiled and laughed, seeming to not be phased by her boss seeing her in a scarf and acne cream dotting her face.  Was she just so tired from work she didn’t care?  Who were you kidding, this girl was a complete trip after a long day and was just sayin ‘fuck it’.

“Elijah, I got Tobias to grab you some of that shrimp scampi from that place downtown, and Y/N--he got you your favorite cause I told him and you his new boo thing.”  Aurora smirked with a wing in hand, and Elijah playfully gagged while Tobias handed out takeout containers and handed yours over. Yup, it was your favorite dish from your favorite place.  

“Now--I was invited for 3 reasons: A.) I have a car so I could do the food run and get y’all spoiled asses some good food.  B.)  I live 5 blocks away from the liquor store so--” He held up a bottle from the bag he had--Hennessy, cause of course he’d get the most stereotypical dr--”And C.) I had to pull a double shift so I’m tired and nice enough to share some college Ramsey stories with y’all.”

So there you were, sipping on your glass and laughing as Tobias was explaining how Ethan thought that ‘double dutch’ was some kind of dessert or innuendo for a threesome with exchange students.

“Wait wait---no no you gotta be kiddin me.  Fuckin 4.0 Med school GPA Ramsey--future head of Edenbrooks Diagnostics Team--thought double dutch was some kinda play on words?  I have to laugh…” Elinah snorts. You couldn’t help but burst into whoops and hollars, laughing and even Aurora couldn’t hide the smile on her face after she almost choked on her drink.

“Uh-huh.  Even after I told him what it was, he insisted that he had to see ‘it’.  I took him to my old neighborhood, and watched four 9 year old girls school him while he nearly fell flat on his face!”  Tobias laughed and smiled as he recalled the memory.  “For someone so fuckin smart--I swear to god he’s a dumbass.  Arrogant too, he never wanted to jump rope at the gym anymore.”

Something inside you flipped on.  You took a sip of Henny and smirked.  

“Well, I knew he had the fuckin long-ass neck of a giraffe, but clearly them legs ain’t doin him a favor either.”  Tobias nearly spat his drink and crumbled on the floor into laughter, Elijah slamming his hand on the table and laughing with him.  It was taking all of Aurora’s willpower to not laugh and act a fool.  “I mean, I know he ain’t got any rhythm either!  Mothafucka was clappin OFFBEAT during Donahue’s karaoke night, but I’m supposed to trust him to count how many heartbeats a patient has.”  You joke again, and Elijah was holding his sides.

“Fuck---he---Y/N shut the hell up!”  Tobias laughed and playfully pushed your shoulder.  “Pass me the damn bottle….y’all lemme tell you somethin worse than that--his cooking.  The man can’t stay on beat let alone beat a fuckin egg.  Y/N--tell ‘em bout the chicken.”

“He---He invited me home after work or somethin--and he wanted me to help him with this recipe he saw for chicken.  Y’all, it was the BLANDEST ass recipe I ever saw in my life.  I was terrified to eat whatever the fuck he was makin, it was so bad his dad even helped out and said how it needed some proper seasoning.  I had never seen an old man so disappointed in such an empty spice cabinet.  I had to leave.”  You snicker as you retell the story.  “Even worse?  He tried to bring me some leftovers afterwards and by god was that mothafucka dry as HELL---y’know what, lemme calm down cause I am not about to yell over some bland ass chicken.”  You chugged down the Henny and grabbed the bottle to pour another glass.

“Y’know….for someone who seemed real eager to stuff a chicken, he cannot seem to tell he got a stick stuffed far up his ass.  No wonder he walks around like an emotionally constipated man-baby.”  Aurora said with a straight face as she chugged her own drink.  You turned away, laughing and doing a spit take as Tobias slammed his fist on the table, snorting while Elijah simply was in awe at Aurora’s words. 

 “My first week there, I was assigned to Y/N and cause my auntie was makin me give her full on oral essays of every case I had, I missed out on one of ours and nearly let a patient die.  Now---his ass knows this.  He knows exactly who the fuck I am and who the fuck my aunt is.  And what did he do?  Chewed me out without a second thought.  I was *this* close to curb stomping his ass I swear--He even called Y/N amature after saving someone’s life because it ‘was sloppy’ and ‘wasn’t professional enough’.  And another thing--” 

You watched Aurora stand up, Henny in her hand, and just goin off on Ethan.  She was tearing into him, from him being able to get off the hook for punching Declan, verbally avicerating innocent interns, being all high and mighty--man, she hated his ass.  Elijah was just eating his scampi, vibing and Tobias was smiling like a proud parent, eating his burger. 

 “He gon have the nerve--the audacity--the CAUCASITY to assume that I’M trippin because I told him about Landry being all rude and dismissive of one of his black-female patients.  He nearly put ME on probation for helping deliver the baby properly when Landry prescribed her the wrong treatment for something cause neither of them will ever fuckin LISTEN and--”  You could not have been any more impressed.  You were just soaking it all in.  She finally sat back down and ate some of her wings.

Tobias sighs and grins.  “Damn. Elijah, you been real quiet...you wanna add your two cents?” he asks while Tobias took a big gulp and sat the glass back down.  He took a deep breath.

“No, no….I just want his long-neck-headass, mommy-didn’t-love-me-so-I’m-a-lil-bitch-headass, grudge-holding-grown-ass-man-headass, lemme-insult-my-interns-headass, pompous, privileged, irritating, high and oh so fuckin’ mighty ass to humble himself and learn to get his head and the stick he got outta his ass.  It ain’t cute to just bash everyone around you cause yo ass is feelin like Hamilton, ‘smartest in the room’ mofo.”  He said, all very calmly while finishing his drink.   You, Tobias and Aurora just exchanged a look….and broke out into a fit of laughs and smiling. 

A few drinks later and a hella amount of roasts later, you were cuddled up with Tobias while Elijah laid out on Aurora's lap. 

"Damn…..we really been up for hours now. Jackie and Sienna still out…" Elijah piped up and checked his phone. "They're at Bryce's place, having a 'girls night' with Keiki and sleepin over…..ooooo, Tobias should sleep over too!" He showed y'all a photo Sienna sent. 

"Uh-huh, you should! We can watch movies and... oh Elijah your hair is sooooo soft." Aurora smiled and was playfully twisting it. Seems like the drinks were finally hitting.  Tobias could tell too.

He managed to help Elijah back in his wheelchair and followed his directions to his room.  He came back out to you helping Aurora to her room.

"Byyyye boss. See ya at work! If you do stay over, y'all better be quiet while he rearrange them guts!" She poked you laughing as you rolled your eyes and got her in bed.  You walked back out, feeling tipsy yourself and plopped on the couch...with Tobias.

"Y'know….your friends definitely know how to go all in on a roast session. I found out shit about Ethan I didn't know till now."

"Mhmmmm….Henny is….is a miracle worker…" you slurred and laughed, laying up on him. "And yoooooouuu….are a fine-ass pillow." 

Before you succumbed to the exhaustion and hennessy, you felt Tobias's lips peck your cheek gently and his arms hold you tight against him.

The next day at work, you were taking your break and went outside to the courtyard...much to your surprise you found a few children--presumabley patients-- playing double dutch with some jump rope.

"Apples, peaches, pears, and plums

Tell me when your birthday comes! 1! 2! 3! 4!"

They were counting along as you hopped inside the rope, showing off a bit and laughing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan walking towards the building.

"Hey, Ethan, wanna join? It may not be a dessert or two dutch girls--but it'll be fun!" You called out and teased while working the ropes. You could see his face turn red from where you were, and him muttering softly about Tobias. You couldn't help but laugh as you kept skipping and hopping away.

#choices #playchoices #pb choices #choicesgame #choices stories you play #tobias open heart #tobias carrick #open heart tobias #elijah greene #open heart elijah #aurora emery #aurora open heart #black!mc #black reader insert #black reader #choices fanfiction #fanfiction #open heart #choices open heart #open heart 2 #choices open heart 2

[captainseaweedbrains]

Happy Birthday, Peeta

I rewrote a fluff prompt I got ages ago and thought I’d post it again. Enjoy!

Post-Mockingjay, during the time where they grew back together.

Can also be found on Ao3

His birthday was coming up and Katniss wanted to do something special for Peeta, something homemade.

"He does so much for me," she told Haymitch while they nibbled on the rye bread Peeta had left them for lunch. "I want to return the favor. He deserves it." And Peeta did deserve it. After these rough few months of trying to repair themselves and figure out what they were, she wanted something normal, something happy. Or as happy as they could possibly reach.

"I'm just not very good at gift giving," she confessed, picking at the bread. 

Haymitch ripped another piece off the loaf and shoved it into his mouth. "I don't know what it is with you two and owing each other, but he's not expecting a parade, sweetheart." Katniss squirmed in her seat at the thought of being paraded in front of a crowd again. "Just do something any normal girlfriend would do."

"We're not dating," she quickly insisted. "We're just...us." 

"Fine. Whatever. Make the boy dinner and, I don't know, get him paper or something to draw on. He should be happy with that." 

The idea did sound good, and Peeta always made dinner. A birthday dinner would give him a night off, let him relax. Yes, a surprise dinner would definitely be a good gift for him. She'd make his favorite meal, maybe steal a bottle of Haymitch's finest to lighten the mood. It was perfect. 

The only problem was she didn't know his favorite meal. At least something she could make. Katniss tried to think back to every meal they'd ever had together, but her own mind had been so transfixed on her plate she'd never noticed what Peeta ate. 

She would just have to find out before his birthday. 

Peeta was pouring vegetable soup into her bowl for dinner when she decided to ask. "You make soup a lot," Katniss observed, waiting for him to sit before lightly blowing on her meal.

"Can't go wrong with it," he smiled.

As expected, the soup tasted wonderful, with hints of spices Peeta kept to himself, saying it was a family secret. She tapped the spoon on the side of her bowl and sighed, wondering how to go about asking him without making it too obvious what she planned to do.

"Is something the matter?" His eyebrows were scrunched together in concern, his hand gripping hard on his spoon. Katniss patted his hand and told him she was fine. 

"I'm just thinking about the soup," is all she said, taking another timid sip.

"Oh."

The dining room grew quiet, the only sounds were the scrapes of their spoons against bowls and Buttercup begging for scraps at Peeta's feet. It was typically how dinner went for them, but Katniss didn't want to chicken out about this. She wanted to make sure what she was making Peeta would be something he'd like.

"You know, when I..." A lump formed in her throat at the thought of her family. She cleared her throat and started again. "When I was little, my father used to make this dandelion salad and my mother had this special dressing she'd pour on top. It was really simple, nothing like...like the Capitol food, but I'd always get excited whenever I'd see him walking back with a bag full of dandelions. It was my favorite meal."

It was too much, too obvious, and she shoved a spoonful of soup in her mouth to avoid blurting out anything that would trigger any emotional episode. Peeta wasn't stupid, and he always figured out whatever she was planning because he was perceptive and good at reading people, and Katniss was lucky if she could spit out a sentence every once in awhile. 

He didn't seem to notice, empathetically smiling at her, like he always did whenever something from their past was mentioned. He understood how much it hurt to talk about the dead and the hopeless, and she was so thankful for that. Another reminder why Peeta deserved a special birthday dinner. 

"I could call your mom for the dressing recipe. We could make it together." 

"Yes," Katniss said slowly, "we could make it together. So now you know what mine was. Um, so what was your favorite meal?" 

His eyes gleamed over in thought as he leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. It wasn't often they talked about trivial things like favorite childhood foods, but it wasn't on the list of triggers Dr. Aurelius had given and that was all Katniss was concerned with as she watched his face carefully. Just because it wasn't on the list didn't mean Peeta would react lightly to topics of his family. His episodes were sparse, but it was always best to be safe.

"It sounds silly," Peeta chuckled, pulling her out of her worry, "but I loved when my dad would make fresh bread for dinner." It wasn't the answer she expected from the baker's son and her face must have shown her surprise. "I've told you we always got stuck with the stale bread—the bread no one wanted," he explained, "but on special occasions, Dad would make a fresh loaf of bread for us. Sometimes add in raisins, if we were really lucky. It was really rare, but I remember jumping up and down whenever I'd smell bread baking in our apartment's kitchen." He sheepishly smiled and looked down at his bowl of soup. "It's stupid, I know, Katniss, but it is what it is." 

"I don't think it's stupid," she comforted, taking his hand in hers. "I...I think it's sweet, Peeta. I'm glad those memories aren’t—aren't gone." His hand squeezed hers back in response and they resumed eating in silence.

Baking bread was a lot harder than Peeta made it out to be. 

It was ridiculous, really. She'd made bread plenty of times with the tesserae grains her family received. But everything seemed simple back then—her mother and sister, their tiny, dilapidated house in the Seam. Even the bread was simple, but nothing made sense any more. Not even the stupid, complicated bread recipe.

She followed every step closely. Double-checking just to be safe.

She put in every ingredient with care, like she’s seen Peeta do a thousand times and more.

But when it came time to pound out the dough, the whole project went awry. Images of Snow and Coin and Plutarch consumed her thoughts as she pounded the soft, malleable dough. Their faces smirking, toying with her, wanting. Her hands grew rougher with the dough, feeling used and spit out. They used her. Used them. Discarding them like unwanted waste when their purpose was done. And Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Sweet, little Prim. 

Her vision went black. Her chest heavy, lungs filling with smoke from the bombs. The bombs that killed little Prim.

Prim Prim Prim Prim

A sharp pain in her hand snapped her back to the kitchen. She was home, safe. Not the Capitol or the arena. Home. The pale dough was smeared red with her blood, her knuckles bruised and battered.

My name is Katniss Everdeen, she began her list, taking deep breaths in, eyes closed. I am at my house. I am safe. I am making bread. Today is Peeta’s birthday. I am making Peeta's favorite bread. I want to make him happy. Today is a Peeta’s birthday.

Her heartbeat slows. She cleans her hands, wrapping them in gauze, before pulling out the ingredients to start once more.

She double-checked the steps closely, pouring the ingredients into the bowl with care, just like Peeta.

Bread should not be this complicated.

The bread was almost finished baking when the grandfather clock tolled the hour, telling her Peeta would be home any minute. Katniss sat on the floor, face pressed against the oven window, still covered in flour, and watched the loaf continue to bake. Her face was tear stained and puffy, her knuckles still ached after all these hours, but part of her felt proud for sticking it out and finishing the bread for Peeta, instead of running to her bed or closet. It was definitely an improvement from months ago. 

The front door opened, startling her from her bread watch, and Katniss scrambled to her feet and patted some of the flour off her pants.  

"Happy birthday!" she cheered when Peeta stepped into the kitchen. 

His face broke out into a smile and laughed, looking around the flour covered kitchen. "I see you've been busy." He ran a finger across the countertop and rubbed the flour between his finger and thumb. “Flour? Do I smell bread?” 

"I made dinner. Your favorite meal." 

She couldn't help but laugh along when he asked in surprise, "You did?" 

"For your birthday,” she explained, taking his coat and tossing it aside. She pulled out a chair for him and told him to sit as she went and got him a drink. “You always do the cooking, but not on your birthday. We’re making birthdays special now. And I wanted to make your favorite meal because I thought it’d—you know, make you happy.”

His hand found hers, his thumb lightly tracing her bandage. Her breath stilled, unsure if he’d ask about it and ruin the happiness she felt stirring in her chest, seeing him happy, like her Peeta. But his smile grew, his blue blue eyes warming, causing her smile to grow until they both looked like deranged fools. The aroma of baked bread filled the small kitchen, making their stomachs growl.

“It’s perfect, Katniss. Really.” She shrugged like it meant nothing, but her stomach fluttered more when his hand didn’t let go of hers, and she told him the bread should be ready any minute.

The bread wasn’t burnt, like a certain loaf all those years ago, and it wasn’t perfect, like the loaves he made, but Peeta proclaimed it was the best bread he’d ever had.

“I just wanted to make you happy,” Katniss shyly told him again, blushing at his compliment. “After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you for making this a memorable birthday, Katniss.” The earnestness in his voice proved he meant every word and it was then that she felt that familiar stirring, deep inside her. It felt warm and full and without even thinking about if this would set them back, she kissed him. Soft on the lips.

“Happy birthday, Peeta,” she whispered and laughed when he quickly pulled her closer for another.

#Everlark #Everlark fanfic #The Hunger Games fanfic #OTP: Survival #My writing #Enjoy! #Let me know what you think! #:)

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: General Audience 

Summary: The Gang start a new Festive tradition filled with love, laughter, music, food, and fun. Carry On Countdown, Day 1 - Found Family @carryon-countdown​

Tags: Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 1, Found Family, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff

Words: 848

Simon

When Baz invited us all over, I thought it was a bit cheesy to be honest - Like a scene out of those corny Christmas films, where the small town country girl falls in love with a big businessman and changes his heart (Which, I happen to know, Baz secretly loves). 

But he said that we all deserved to celebrate Christmas properly, given the recent years’ events, and now that I’m here … I’m thinking that he was right (As always). 

Everyone has managed to make it - Baz, Penny, Shepard, Fiona - Even Aggie showed up (Well, kind of. She’s sat looking disinterested on Penny’s laptop screen, which is close enough). 

Baz has spelled his Violin to play all of the Christmas Classics, and the room is filled with a gentle hum of ‘Santa Baby’. 

Shepard is telling us about the time he swears he met one of Santa’s Elves (Although, in reality, it was probably just a short drunk person, given that it was in some random Chicago bar). 

And there’s food. So much food. Baz made us all Sour Cherry Scones (He got the recipe off of Cook Prichard for my last Birthday), Shepard brought Christmas tree Peep marshmallows, Penny brought a plate of her mum’s famous Onion Bhajis, and Baz bullied Fiona into donating some of her Lavender Biscuits. I forgot (Because I’m thick, probably), but Baz says that it’s okay - He just wants me here. 

For all my initial doubts, it’s perfect - It’s warm, and relaxed, and us.

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

We’re halfway through decorating the tree, when Fiona comes back into the room and starts snickering at us. 

“Basil, really? I thought you said that you’d make sure that it looked nice. The neighbours can see that, you know? I won’t have your little posse embarrassing me.”

“Hey!” I pout. “It looks fine. We’re not even done yet, so just … Wait.” 

“Biting words, Golden Boy,” she sneers (She’s always sneering at me).

“It’s fine,” he drones. “And I have been making sure that it looks presentable.” 

It’s true. He’s been fussing over the tree all evening - Hovering behind me and subtly shifting the baubles that I have placed when he thinks I’m not looking, and scalding Shep for ‘messing up’ the branches. Although his reassurance just seems to amuse her. 

“Hardly. You let them put Tinsel on it. Cheap, tacky, horrible Tinsel. You hate Tinsel.” She spits it like a curse (Apparently, Pitches really don’t do Tinsel).  

“Yes well … Call me a convert.” 

“Snow wanted it didn’t he?” 

He looks down at the floor, embarrassed, and I swear my heart swells three sizes as he mumbles out a defence.

“It looks fine with it on,”

“Of course,” she teases, raising a perfectly slit eyebrow. “And the star? What happened to that?” 

“I put it there,” I challenge. 

After I told Penny that I’d never done it, she insisted (Apparently you can’t go your whole life without putting the star on top of the tree. It’s some sort of crime against Christmas). So, Baz lifted me on his shoulders and held me up (Even though I told him I could just get a chair), wobbling me about in the air until I begged for reprieve. 

The resultant Star placement is certainly a bit ... questionable, and more than a little skew-whiff, but I like it. I don’t want it to change. 

She tuts, pointing an accusatory finger at Baz’s chest. “You, kiddo, have gone soft. Letting him desecrate the tree like that … I expected better.” 

“Piss off,” he scoffs. “Don’t you have a fangless vampire to go and entertain.” 

And with a flick of her two-tone hair, she’s gone - Floating back off to her room to do God knows what. 

“Your Aunt is kinda’ a bitch, bro,” Shepard laughs, Baz glaring daggers at him, as Penny swats at his thigh sharply. 

“Watch it, Yankee. Or you won’t be coming back next year?” 

“Next year?” I ask, picking at my scone hesitantly. 

Turning towards me, he scrunches up his brow, panic written plainly across his face.

“I didn’t mean to … pressure you. I mean, we don’t have to, there’s no expectation. I was just thinking that, since neither of us really has any Christmas traditions, that maybe this could be ours. A sort of annual found family celebration. But … only if you want. Obviously.” 

A Christmas tradition. A family Christmas tradition. Friends and food and laughter and fun. Wicked. 

Countless nights I’ve kept myself awake, imagining what it would be like to have such a thing. Loving parents, siblings to keep me company, oodles of presents under a humongous tree just for me. Love. A family. A home. 

And while this is far from the picturesque celebration that I’d always dreamt of, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Because this is real. 

I’m not the same lonely boy that I once was. I don’t need fairy tales about posh model mums and footballer fathers to keep me happy, because what I have - The family that I have - are far better than anything I could’ve invented. 

“Next year,” I smile. “Definitely.” 

#carry on #coc 2020 #carry on countdown #my writing #my fic #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

[findingarcadia]

Made For Him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818468/chapters/66040222

Chapter 4 : Disharmony

The two of us sat in silence for a bit, drinking in the sounds of nature. Me more so than Shoto, who was undoubtedly enjoying the sensation of my fingers running through his hair. To this day my mind could not understand why he dyed it but nonetheless went with it. To be honest it looked good on him. Him and his two-colored eyes. We sat on Yua’s porch watching our group of friends and family play, get dirty, and wrestle through the dirt. I loved each and every one of them in their own way. That included the older people in our ‘family’. Thinking about this family brought my mind to the many unanswered questions I still had.

What exactly are we?

Why is everything a secret?

What is it that lingers around and tugs at me?

Am I crazy?

Living in Washington, let alone a town so close to the border of Canada it was 50 percent forest and more beyond the United States border and mostly protected by laws – laws that forbade many from trespassing on certain lands or deforesting. I never understood the importance of that until recently, the forests were our home. We were woodland people if anyone had to label us. I never understood why part of that many questions deal. We stayed away from the towns and people mostly. We’ve lived here in Spokane since we came to America.

In my time here I did notice many things, people steered clear of us. The other kids rarely spoke to us. We were labeled weird and barbaric for living in the woods and surviving the way we do. I’d like to think we were normal….mostly. We lived like anyone else, shopped for food, hunted for the winter, used furs to help warm us along with some luxuries. We just kept to ourselves. Like a tribe. Or a pack.

“Izuku…”

My mind raced, dark green bunnies zipping about on my life and questions that I barely heard the words that came from my best friend.

“Earth to Izuku.”

I took a breath and pulled my hand from his hair and looked down at him. “Sorry, mind bunnies.”

“I see that. What is going on in that head of yours?” He said as he turned slightly toward me.

“Would you believe me if I said absolutely nothing?”

“No.” Shoto deadpanned.

Sighing I tugged the blanket around myself and up to my chin. “You know, we’ve been here for a long time.”

“And?”

“I’m just saying. Anyway, it’s been what eleven years.” I said softly through the fabric while looking out at the slowly dimming light. Aizawa would most likely want me safely inside the house, and he would probably call Yua just for kicks to make sure I was home. “No one has changed.”

Shoto paused in his motion of attempting to get up and let his eyes shift toward me.

There was a long pause that made something in my head sound an alarm.

Something was not right.

“Change?” he asked. “Change as in personality-wise or what? We don’t need to change who we are or what we do because here we are a family. We look after one another. Why change?”

Smooth Shoto Todoroki, real smooth.

“Yeah…” I agreed knowing full well he detoured the true meaning behind my statement earlier.

“Come on, worrywart. Let’s get you inside.” Shoto stated as he turned and lifted himself to his feet. He offered a hand to help me from my comfortable spot and sadly I took it mourning the warmth and comfort that I had at that very moment. Letting the blanket slip from around me ungracefully, I shoved it back into the chair and allowed Shoto to pull me towards him and ultimately toward the door.

“Aww look at you being a good babysitter. You brought me back home right at curfew.” I taunted. “I’m sure if you sit and give paw, you’ll get treats.”

Shoto just stared at me while I had gotten my keys out and had them in the door ready to open it. “Forget Aizawa and his issues,” Shoto said as he moved away from me with a small smirk on his lips. “You’re lucky I let you live past childhood.”

A snort gracefully slipped out of me, or as gracefully as a snort could. Before I could say anything Shoto swatted my backside and took off, off the porch, and along the path toward his family’s house. His agility to this day confuses me and makes me a little uneasy. Shaking my head I opened the door and walked in, toeing my shoes off at the front. The house Yua and I lived in was designed similar to a traditional Japanese house. Well at least on the inside. Shoes off at the genkan.

“Hang your jacket up!” Yua’s voice floated through the house from the kitchen. Her senses always amazed me, her knack for knowing who was in the house or what was going on was unreal, but hey I guess that is a mom thing. What’s funny is that I had been seconds away from just tossing my jacket either on the floor or on a chair.

Making my way to the kitchen I spotted the mother-to-be, or already mother… I don’t even know anymore. She was creating a concoction of things. Taking a sniff, I could smell a weird mix. “Onions, peaches, chocolate, noodles…” I paused watched her add pickle juice while she had a cookie shoved in her mouth. “I’m ordering take out.”

“Awww Izu, you don’t want some?”

I looked on in horror, surveying the dishes and chopped vegetables on the counter and the other empty containers. “Nope.” I declared. “You and your craving have just created a monster sickness in my stomach.”

Yua giggled and shrugged while she attended her…whatever it was.

“Where’s the beef?”

With all the weird craving this woman had, there was always meat involved. Beef usually, ground and made into the perfect meatballs, or shredded and sprinkled over something. I swear the baby was a carnivorous beast and it made its mother eat weird nasty meat concoctions. Ah, the price of motherhood. Those dark, fuzzy, hopping creatures were back in my brain. Lately, weird things had been happening when it came to Yua, her abdomen would swelling and something it looked like the baby was having a party in there, other times her abdomen would be a normal size for someone who was as pregnant as she was. I had thought to ask but assumed it would go into the pile of unanswered questions.

“Hey.” Yua touched my chin. “I’m going to be okay.” I wondered briefly when I had zoned out long enough for her to waddle herself toward me.

“Mind reader.” It was like this woman knew me so well that my thought never escaped her.

Yua just smiled and pulled away from me with her hand pulled up into fists, like she was ready to throw a punch. “I’m a fighter, besides I’m just pregnant not…”

“I know…”

I didn’t want to think of anything happening to the one person aside from Aizawa that helped nurture me and raise me. For an orphaned child she has never met, Yua had given up being anything normal and risen to the plate of motherhood. She gave me a home and made sure of our places in this family. She stood up to many people when it came to me and my mischief, Aizawa included. You know I think that was why we were together like this because Aizawa saw her love and care and willingness to fight for someone she knew nothing about.

“You’re gonna be okay.” I whispered to myself, hoping that if repeated enough I would believe it. That if said enough like prayer, it would be true. Pregnancies are difficult, sometimes women die in childbirth. Especially if the family was insistent on home birth, those were difficult if there were complications.

Shut up brain.

“Alistair?” Changing the subject was the best considering where my brain decided to go. Stupid bunnies making my train of thought run wild. Yua’s husband, the man she left Japan for. He usually was glued to her side, never one to leave for fear of something happening. Hence the fear instilled into me. Besides, Yua could cook and he never missed her meals. Even if I was not fond of the man, he just gave me weird vibes, his absence was a bit strange to me.

“He won’t be home tonight.” She said as she waddled back and forth in the kitchen, messing with her mixture of food. “Try this.”

Having let the mind bunnies free to dash and hop I realized too late that I took the bite offer. I had regrets, major regrets. Never again was I allowing this woman to feed me. Her food, I wanted no part of any longer. “Disgusting!” I had spit it out in the trash and proceeded to drown my mouth with anything sugary to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Hmmm…” she said and spooned a portion into her mouth. “Your loss, I guess.”

I gagged and proceeded to take large gulps of the soda I had opened. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Yua shrugged and proceeded with her project. At this point there was no other word for it, the food was a project made for the science fair. It was a concoction made of pure pregnant evil.

“I swear, if I didn’t know you, I’d say you were evil.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” She said as she took another spoonful.

“Yeah, on that note.” I left the kitchen in search of the takeout menus we had stashed somewhere for when Shoto and I had those boring nights of video games and crap talk. “Alistair isn’t home, even though he’s like your guard dog. Aizawa has given me a curfew and gave me babysitters. You’re messing around with me in hopes of distracting me from asking questions.” I yelled as I dug through the side table drawer in the living room. “What’s going on?”

Yua’s form appeared in the entryway of the kitchen leading toward the dining and living area. “Izuku, do me a favor. Stay out of it.” Her expression was one of pleading and I turned away from her face to look at the now found menus.

There was silence on my end. I couldn’t stay out of this, it involved me. I’m part of this family. I deserve to know.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would.” She sighed. “I’m stressed, Izu, I don’t think this is good for me so please.”

My eyes widened and I looked at her then. She struck where it hurt, my care, and worry for her. “You’re gonna be fine.” I repeated my statement from earlier. “Besides telling me to stay out of it, makes me want to know even more. It obviously must be big, and it involves this family. I am part of this family.”

Yua didn’t respond. Not a word. I couldn’t read her expression and at that moment, deep down I knew this was far bigger than I expected.

#MadeForHim #ao3fic #ao3 writer #BNHA fic #BAKUDEKU #izuku mydoria #shoto torodoki #katsuki bakugo #Shouta Aizawa #werewolf au #Bakugo and Midoriya #lovestory #supernatural myths #japanese myths #werewolves turn into actual wolves #BABIES #ILOVETHEM #chapter 4

[7team7]

Keeping rocks from crushing you

Rather than gifting Fire Lord Zuko a wife, the Southern Water Tribe bestowed upon him a bodyguard by the name of Katara.

At first, Zuko was insulted. Bodyguard AU

A/N: another story where Ozai kind of just goes away without the canon story LOL how else will we make zutara strangers to friends to lovers in this context!! While the arranged marriage fire lady katara trope is Very Good I hope you enjoy this take too :)

.

.

It was after Iroh lost count when he snapped.

He had full faith in his nephew, but the number of assasination attempts against him was too high for comfort. It was natural, expected that not everyone would agree with Zuko’s rise to power after taking down his father once and for all. Even though the Avatar, aged as he was, played an integral role in defeating Ozai, loyalists still saw Zuko as the true villain. They were loyal to Ozai, but not the rest of his bloodline.

Zuko had managed to win over many skeptics, but that didn’t stop fanatic traitors from making attempts on his life. It was only through Zuko’s own skill and discipline that they avoided some close calls. Even though many of the assassins were clumsy in their plans, the fear of a more organized resistance plotting to take down his beloved nephew kept Iroh awake at night.

So in the interest of keeping Zuko in power and by extension, maintaining international peace, he called upon the help of another nation.

Rather than gifting Lord Zuko a wife, the Southern Water Tribe bestowed upon him a bodyguard by the name of Katara. Their greatest treasure, the chief insisted.

At first, Zuko was insulted.

Not only did his uncle not believe in his ability to defend himself, but he brought in a Water Tribe girl to be his personal bodyguard?

“Why would you hire an outsider?” he demanded. All Katara did was show up and he was already angry. What was wrong with Fire Nation troops? How could he be sure if she was trustworthy? And how old was she anyway?

“I would not be so hasty as to complain, nephew. Not only will the Southern Water Tribe take great offense, but she puts me at ease, more so than any of our own troops.”

Zuko settled down, muttering. If it made Uncle more comfortable, he supposed it couldn’t be too terrible having her around. Still, it seemed excessive. He wondered if he really needed her around; wasn’t there another way to improve his relations with the Water Tribes? Wouldn’t this show the world that he was weak?

But then Zuko watched her display impressive skills time and time again, and successfully do her job: keep him safe.

Unlike his usual palace guards, she was better at being stealthy and unassuming. A woman clearly from the Water Tribes looked more like a visitor than anything.

“Fine, she stays,” he conceded after he only realized she had taken someone out when she asked politely what to do with the unconscious body.

“At your service,” she bowed. Personally, she was looking forward to all the adventures she was sure to encounter in the Fire Nation. A dramatic Fire Lord was nothing she couldn’t handle.

.

Those adventures came more quickly than she expected. As the nations grew at a staggering rate, it seemed like Zuko was always being pulled in a different direction to attend to something or other.

This time, a lucrative new trade agreement was to be signed with a group of travelers. At least, that was what was reported to the palace. Zuko’s presence was requested because apparently they were being difficult. He had the power to either make them comply or tell them to sail away.

But in what was a running theme, this group of travelers had ill intentions and quickly drew up arms as soon as the Fire Lord arrived. Why did everyone want to pick a fight?

Zuko, practically dead on his feet from constant exhaustion, was slow to react. He felt his face grow hot in embarrassment when one of them nearly managed to land a hit on him.

But before he could take action, Katara blocked his body with her own, making him look totally uncool.

“Katara!” There was no way she could take on all these guys by herself?! She had to let him fight too. He could at least use his swords; he knew his guards had to hold back from using fire lest they wanted to destroy all the precious goods aboard the wooden ship the rogues came in on.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll save you from the pirates,” she smirked right before spinning away and taking out a handful of men in the process. They were expecting fire, but near the sea, near her element, it didn’t matter what they expected because they wouldn’t win.

Zuko spluttered, too shocked to move. All he could do was watch as she rounded them up and froze them in place.

She turned around to face him as the royal guards moved to apprehend the band of pirates. “I didn’t get you wet did I?” she asked, all sweetness and sunshine. She waved her hand lightly and wicked any moisture out of his clothing, moisture he didn’t even realize was there.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he muttered, mostly to himself because Katara had turned her attention back to the pirates, giving orders to the guards like she owned the place. He straightened his crown. Spirits, this girl.

.

They traveled more now that, again, things outside the palace required Zuko’s attention and Katara had proven herself extremely capable. On the way there, she talked and talked and talked. He didn’t mind, though. She had so many stories from and about the Southern Water Tribe; her eyes took on a certain sparkle when she talked about her people. He could tell she really loved her family, but that being able to do something besides heal and cook was invigorating for her.

Good, he thought privately, this arrangement is working out for the both of us.

They were examining precious gems near the entrance of an Earth Kingdom cave when they heard a huge boom.

The Earth King jumped, immediately hiding behind Zuko. He turned back to face the cowering man, but in doing so he didn’t notice the way the side of the mountain had started to shake and crack. Zuko ordered him to get back to his carriage; he would take care of the attackers. Katara, as his appointed eyes and ears, of course noticed.

Right as the Earth King and his men scurried away to relative safety, Zuko looked to see who was causing the trouble. He didn’t get a clear view because suddenly, Katara tackled him from the side and rolled with him until they landed out of the way of the massive rock that rumbled down the mountain.  

“What are you doing?!”

“Keeping rocks from crushing you.” Her eyes darted all over, checking to see if there was so much as a scratch on him.

“Well I’m fine,” he said, more softly than he anticipated, but he felt a strange need to make it better, to make her stop worrying.

“You’re fine thanks to me,” she said with a shit-eating grin as she offered a hand to help him up.

“Congrats, you’re doing your job,” he rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing.

She grabbed his hand and hauled him towards the Earth King, planting him a safe distance away from the mountain. She dusted off his clothing, “Look alive, Fire Lord. Make sure to stay alert this time, I’m gonna finish up in there.”  

As his guards and attendants started fawning all over him, he grumbled, “Why does she get to do all the fun stuff without me?”

.

Back at the palace, he challenged her to a spar. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to do so earlier, but once they started, they sparred whenever they had a chance. Sure, Katara was protecting him perfectly, but he didn’t want to get lazy or for his own skills to diminish. She gave him a huge smile when he first pulled out his broad swords, saying they reminded her of her brother. Then she nearly knocked him off his feet with a water whip.

She always kept him on his toes, but she wasn’t like other firebenders, always pushing to the limit. She maintained balance during their sparring sessions, they were almost like training sessions than anything. She made sure to give him time to meditate and stretch. And if she seriously hurt him, she was by his side ready to heal him in an instant. Iroh approved, of course.

“I’m a package deal,” she once joked.

Above all, it was just plain fun seeing each other incorporate different bending forms into their attacks. Since they spent so much time together, they had to get creative in an attempt to surprise the other. He always smirked remembering the way Katara’s eyes widened when he first set his swords on fire.

“We’re in the Fire Nation, remember?” he provoked.

She was poised to attack. “Of course I do. And water beats fire, remember?”

The hiss of steam when one element met another made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

.

“Katara,” he said very seriously, “we need to talk.”

She sighed. They had just sat down for breakfast and he was already worried about something? Upon further examination, she noticed his eye bags were darker than normal — something must have kept him up all night. She went for a gentler approach and asked, “About what? Is everything okay?"

“People have been talking.”

“People tend to do that, Zuko.”

“Well, they’re talking about us!” He must have been really bothered because he was already waving his arms around and clearly getting worked up.

“Oh, do tell? I thought you didn’t like palace gossip.”

“They think you’re my girlfriend or something,” he spit out. Well, concubine was the word some had used. He wasn’t sure what was more uncomfortable to think about: sex or emotional intimacy with Katara. He shuddered.

“Let them,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “They’ll think that if you have enough time and energy to run around with a girl, you’re not worrying about other things like, you know, your personal safety. Live a little, Fire Lord.”  

She went back to eating and left him with his jaw hanging open loosely. This seemed to placate him for a while, though, because he actually paid attention to his food.

But the spirits would never let her know peace because he spoke up again with great panic, “Have you been telling people that I’m your boyfriend?”

“No way! Why would I do that? I literally work for you. There’s no time for dating when I’m always saving your royal butt.”

“Because you like to mess with me,” he mumbled.

This made her laugh, seeing him blush. “Oh, Zuko. You’re so cute sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

.

.

A/N: chapter 2? Maybe? Also I hope katara isn’t too ooc here?? I just wanted her to be Confident and sometimes when writing her jokes/quips I’m like this is a sokka-ism...LOL we stan funny and confident katara!! happy start to zutara week, posting early bc i need to focus on my real work now T_T

#zutara #my writing #fan fic #zutara week 2020

[willow-salix]

Isolation update!

Day 73 of Isolation on Tracy Island

“Scott?”

“Yeah?” he looked over from the movie he was half watching, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.

“Can we go out?”

“Huh?” he frowned, clearly not following me at all. Can’t say I blame him, I hadn’t said a word for twenty minutes, a minor miracle for me, and then announced that.

"Don't fall for it," John advised.

“Can we go out?” I repeated.

“Where? It’s not like there’s anywhere to go," Scott asked.

I waved my phone at him. “England has just eased the lockdown and has said you can have up to six people in a garden at one time and I want to visit my mum.”

“Sure, I mean, I guess so. When do you want to go?” He’s such a good boy, this one.

“Now.”

“Now? You do realise it’s almost midnight, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but we’re on the other side of the world, it’s daytime there. If we go in the morning it’ll be too late. Come on, please? I've not seen them in over two months."

“Why me?” he groaned. “It’s this supposed to be John’s job?”

“You have the craft that can get anywhere in the world in under twenty minutes. And he’s refused to ever go to her’s for a barbecue again.”

“Too right I have,” he muttered. I nudged him with my elbow and he nudged me back. We got into a little nudge fight until Scott cleared his throat.

“I’m probably going to regret asking this since I already said yes, but why won’t John go again?”

“Mum has a habit of inviting everyone she knows and then she forces us to socialise. Last time she towed him around and introduced him to everyone and forced him to eat three burgers because he is too skinny.”

“It was horrendous,” he shuddered. "I felt like I was on parade, I half expected someone to check my teeth and smack my rump."

“She can’t do it this time because of the six people limit, but apparently this brave, heroic rescuer isn't prepared to risk it.”

“Because I’m not stupid,” he snorted. “I’ll stay here and just be happy when you get back, OK?”

“That is somewhat acceptable,” I allowed. "But you had better be bloody ecstatic when I return."

“Can I take back my agreement to go?” Scott asked.

“No, but you can bring a few more brothers if you want to, choose wisely.”

“Virgil, everyone loves him,” Scott decided. “The other two can't be trusted anywhere. Hey, Virg?”

“Yeah?” he called back from the kitchen where he was making his ninth cup of coffee (and then wonders why he's still awake at 3am).

“You wanna go to a barbecue?”

“Food? Sure! When?”

“Now!”

“Sure!”

“I notice you didn’t tell him where,” John grinned, receiving a soft smack on the knee for the comment.

“It won’t be that bad,” I insisted, but honestly I’m not sure who I was trying to convince. "She'll ask where you are, you know that, right?"

"Tell her that I fell into a black hole and you're expecting it to spit me out sometime before Christmas."

"Yeah, like she's going to believe that one again."

***

There was a crowd of children outside as Scott lowered One down onto the grassy green outside Mum's house, managing to avoid the trees. Skilled, that one. I can’t even park straight most days.

“There you are!” Mum called from the door, refusing to step one foot outside while the rest of the world of out was around. “Go round the back, you can’t come inside the house, your brother’s already out there! Have you got a toilet in that fancy machine? Because you can’t come inside the house! Did you bring your own plates? Because you-”

“Can’t come inside the house,” we choroused.

“We know, Mum, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” she answered. “Oh, did you bring your own drinks? Because you can’t come inside the house. No cuppa for you today, sorry, because you can’t come in and you know I won’t have my good mugs out in the garden.”

“It’s fine, Mum, we can only stay for an hour anyway, it’s getting late.”

“It’s only just gone one!”

“Yeah, but it’s one in the morning for us, you know that.”

“Oh, I’ll never get used to that nonsense,” she muttered dismissively as she shut the door on us.

“Should I be scared?” Virgil asked.

“No, don’t be silly, she loves you,” I assured him, silently crossing my fingers in the hope that I wasn't lying to him.

We’ll just stay an hour turned into three and it was growing light by the time we touched back down Tracy Island side. John was dozing on the couch when we got back. I waved one of the leftover burgers under his nose that Scott had ended up cooking because Mum had decided that drinking copious amounts of gin was a better use of her time than actually cooking the food she’d invited us to eat. My brother, being a vegetarian, refused to touch anything meat related and wouldn’t cook either.

John grabbed at the burger without even opening his eyes, catching my wrist and directing it towards his mouth while I held it for him, only sitting up to take it once he’d taken a bite.

“Lazy,” I accused, but he knew I didn’t mean it.

“How bad was it?” he asked Scott and Virgil, who flopped wearily down on the couch opposite.

“I had a great time,” Virgil grinned.

“Only because of the dog,” Scott grumbled.

“Mum’s dog fell in love with him,” I explained. “Fat, soppy staffie that insisted on climbing on his lap and refused to move.”

“He was cute,” Virgil cooed. “And he loved me.”

“That dog loves everyone,” John told him. “You aren’t special.”

“Apparently Scott is,” I grinned. “Mum thinks he’s the most handsome thing ever to have walked this earth, she is obsessed with him. She kept checking him out, I’m sure of it.”

“I feel slightly violated,” Scott confessed. “She wouldn’t leave me alone, she kept asking me questions.”

“She did that to me too,” John told him. “Did she call all her neighbours to come to meet you?”

“Yes, one even got a ladder out to wave over the fence”

“Did she tell you all that she loves you because she was tipsy?”

“Many times, we got a lot of attention.”

“Did you end up cooking because she forgot to and burnt the first batch?” John continued his interrogation.

“No, I ended up cooking because the first batch were only cooked on one side,” Scott answered.

“I played with the puppy,” Virgil smiled.

“He’s hardly a puppy, he’s eleven,” I laughed.

“They are puppies forever,” he insisted.

“So you regret taking her?”John asked Scott.

“No, of course not. She’s been here for more than two months with our family, she needed to see her’s,” he answered. “But I do regret forgetting to set the alarm on One and now we have to scrub off a rude depiction of a piece of male anatomy that’s been spray painted on one of her tail fins.” Scott yawned and got up. “I’m going to get a few hours sleep before we give my baby a bath.”

“Scott!” Virgil yelled, jumping up and following after him. “Can we get a puppy?”

“And you wondered why I didn’t want to go,” John finished his burger and grabbed my hand, hauling me to my feet. “Bed for you, it’s late and you know full well you’ll be helping him clean tomorrow.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #isolation island #isolation #self isolating #social isolation #staffie #doggosbeingdoggos #best doggo #doggolove #doggosdoingthings #doggoals

[little-dragon-stories]

King chap 14

Your life changed completely when from a slave, you became a spy for the king. Will you be able to help him in his fight against slavery before it’s too late and the threat hanging over him comes true?

In this society where love comes after fortune, will your mutual affection be able to flourish?  

Royal au fic pairing female reader and Kwon JiYong

Feat: YoungBae, TaeHyung, MinHo and SeoJoon (just because  I had their face in mind when I pictured their character)

W.C: 4298

Warnings: Smuttish at the beginning (if we can say it like that). Otherwise, angst.

Personal note: This chapter is dense and intense. So many things happens. Buckle up.

Disclaimer: Everything in this story is fictional. There is no research to be politically  accurate or to fit a certain period of time or place. In one word, it’s all invented.

My princess, personal muse editor: thank you for always giving my work a first read. Love you so much. What would I do, without you? <3<3<3<3<3 

Chapitre 14

“You’re ok?” he asked, gently rubbing your arm with his soapy hands.

The room was quiet as if you were the only people awake in the whole kingdom. The only audible noise was the slight lapping of the water when he rinsed his hands in it. You were both in a tub installed in his room. The morning has arrived, warm and lit. JiYong sat behind you, your back leaning against his chest. The sunlight filtered through the diaphanous curtains, revealing a few grains of dust otherwise invisible. The morning must not have been lazy, but he insisted that you take a bath together before he leaves. He stated that he had to take care of you, you certainly won’t complain about it.  

Last night, your first real night together, was magnificent. JiYong, carried away by a consuming passion, went more explosive than he wanted at the start. But you responded so well to his assaults, that he could not resist and had abandoned himself completely in the act. You made love all night, unable to get enough of each other. Each time was always better than the previous time. It was fatigue that won out over your desire in the wee hours of the morning. Sated and very much in love, you have fell asleep in each other’s arms. Despite the heat of this hot night, you couldn’t let go of each other. It would have been even more intolerable.

“Of course, I’m okay”, the back of your head leaning on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and yawn. 

“Oh! No! Because of me, you’re tired this morning. You’re absolutely sure I didn’t hurt you? You’re not sore anywhere?”

You burst into laughters. He was adorable, worrying like that. 

“Aaaw, JiYong, you’re so cute. We slept for not even 2 hours in 2 nights! Of course I’m dead tired. But did you hear me complain? Please, stop worrying.”

“I just want to make sure I haven’t hurt you or…”

You turned around in the small tub and because of the fit space available, you found yourself trapped between his legs. His wet skin felt amazing against yours. You tangled your arms around his neck and leaned over him in a slippery cuddle. His hands glided down your lower back and rested there, lazy and heavy.

“Listen carefully Kwon JiYong. I was there too, last night. I don’t remember asking you to stop. I don’t remember asking you to slow down either. In fact, it’s the opposite, right?” Although you were shy talking about last night, you couldn’t resist nuzzling your nose along the side of his neck. You felt so good in his arms. So good.

“Actually, you’re right! It’s all your fault! Shame on you for asking me more and more…” he joked, relieved. “I love you so much, you insatiable woman. Next time, I’ll make you ask for more again. I’m actually really good at it”. He teased, kissing the top of your shoulder.

“Oh no! I’ve created a monster!” you giggled “but I love this attitude better! Do you think we have time, right now?” you teased, humping against his crotch. You had the impression that in his presence, when you were alone, all respectability would be hard to maintain.

“I think I’ll always have time to make love to you” he said, serious, as his hands framed your face. 

“Oh! That’s promising… Considering how we are leaning, I guess you’ll be the one who begs right now.” you said, your modesty soared as your desire increased.

“I don’t mind at all, love. With you, begging will become my normality”.

And there you were, lazily making love to each other again. Insatiables.

++++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++ 

“Y/n?”  A joyful voice interrupted your thoughts of the morning. You were happy the little boy couldn’t read your mind.

“Yes little Channie, prince of my heart” you answered lovingly.

“Why do you think it’s a good idea to end slavery?”

The question took you by surprise. This morning, you and him had the idea to write and illustrate a storybook. You had to keep the little boy busy.  While his uncle and Kyo’s were on the run, JiYong preferred if Channie’s contact were reduced to its minimum. He was scared some traitor could be hiding among the staff, as it already happened in the past. You offered to be the one taking care of him during the day. JiYong’s quarters being the safest place in the kingdom, you had stay inside his safe walls. He took no chance when it came to the security of his love ones.

You spend a couple of hours writing short parts of the story, divided into small paragraphs. You took care to leave room enough to paint an image representing the action later on. You were working on your sixth page and you were challenging the little boy to justify the sad ending he wanted for his hero.

“This is a very serious question. Where is it coming from, all of sudden?”

“I had lunch with my father, remember? We had our father and son moment. He told me he was writing a new law. That was just before he spit what he had in his mouth. The new recipe that our cook tested was not good at all” he said, pouting.

You smiled, imagining the prince and the king, spitting their food in front of the helpless servants. 

“Oooh, that must have been funny to watch!” He ignored your comment, already thinking of something else. His mind was constantly racing at high speed.

“Did you know that our new cook is YoungBae’s wife? Father hired her after our food was poisoned last month. She was not a cook at all, she still has to learn but dad said he needed someone trustable in the kitchen. What food do you found absolutely disgusting? What color should we paint the little girl’s dress in our story?”

“Woah! Calm down little boy, I’m befuddled! I’m still processing the cook thing” you laughed.

The queen entered the room and cleared her throat to announce her presence.

“Is my son giving you a hard time, Y/n?” 

“Oh! Yes! He is. I can’t make him stop talking for more than 2 seconds. 

You teased him. You were feeling good today, your heart was light and you were in a playful mode.  Even without having slept very much, you felt beautifully well.

“Then, you should have come and told me. I would have given him a good correction” she played along with you, just before she patted her son’s hair. She had cried, it was evident. Her eyes were red and puffy.

The three of you spent a few minutes chatting together, she listened carefully to the story her son had invented with your help. She smiled and congratulated his creative side. The servant came and served you some tea and cut fruits. Before they left, the prince asked them where his father was and if he was busy. He felt the urge to discuss the storyline with him, apparently.

“Prince JiChan, your father was alone in the executive room an hour ago, writing important documents”.

“Oooh, alone in the executive room, you said?” the queen asked, smirking in your direction. “I believe he’s struggling and wouldn’t mind a little helping hand” she adds.

“He was writing meticulously, Mama, he seemed just fine.”

As soon as you were alone again, she invited you to go and surprised him.

“Go meet him Y/n, he would be so pleased. I’m sure he’s thinking of you anyway and can’t write anything” she adds, teasingly. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the queen pushing you in her husband’s arms. 

“You have a good idea actually. You don’t mind staying with Channie?”

“Of course not, I’m his mother after all. Go, right now, before one of his annoying counselor arrives before you”

You wasted no time. It was at a run that you crossed the bridge on stilts.The warm season was expanding, not ready to give way to the fall. Some flowers had wilted, replaced by a whole new vegetation, less varied but just as colorful. A thin proof that the fall was coming soon.

Arriving at the destination, you smiled and bowed at the guards standing by the exterior door. They let you in without a single question, lowering their heads when you greeted them.  You took a deep breath to try and calm your heart that was beating too fast, excited to see JiYong again soon. The night had been perfect and the morning just as wonderful. There was nothing in the world that could have prepared you for so much happiness.  You wanted to thank him for that. And tell him again that you love him, because he seemed so shocked when you told him you loved him too. Almost in disbelief. Almost like if it was impossible for someone to love him for who he really was. You’ll remind him that you love him every single day from now on, you promised yourself that. 

You had no intention of spying on him. That’s absolutely not what you wanted to do. You just wanted to surprise him, to hug him from behind as he would continue working and steal a kiss, maybe two. But to do that, you had to sneak in, didn’t you? You couldn’t show up if someone was in the room.

Smiling gleefully and your heart threatening to explode in your chest, you took two small steps forward. The idea of cuddling him, breathing in his neck made you happy. You slowly walked towards the screen that was hiding the secret back door. When you heard him talk, you moved backwards, your plans had failed. You couldn’t move, talk or even breathe anymore when you recognised the voice of the man he was talking with.

“... of course, I knew you wouldn’t believe me, Cheon ha. But I’m telling you the truth”.

MinHo. Jang MinHo was here, talking with JiYong. What was going on? This is impossible, you must be dreaming. You never thought you would hear this voice ever again, you didn’t want to. Petrified, you wanted to leave, to run away from your ex-master but you were unable to move, frozen on the spot. Your heart was already beating fast, it was now threatening to come out of your chest. Anxious, scared, you couldn't think of a good reason for him to be here.

“I don’t believe it because it’s not the truth MinHo.”

“I haven’t seen Kwon SoYoung in years, believe it or not, majesty. But I heard there's a warrant for his and Kyo’s arrest. What did they do?”

“I have no intention to discuss it with you”.

“Well then, unless you have reconsidered your position about the offer I made, I guess I’ll be going back”.

“Don’t you dare declare that the discussion is over. Are you greater than the king, now? Until I give the order, you will remain here and answer my questions, as the low cast that you are. Did I make myself clear?” he hissed, losing his calm. 

Jiyong’s voice was openly hostile, he did not hide his hatred for his interlocutor. Belittling him like you’ve never seen him belittle anyone. A surprised murmur rose from the room. So they weren't alone, the guards were protecting him, YoungBae being never far from the king. Swallowing his pride, MinHo continued.

“You didn’t like the offer I made, majesty? I wonder why.  It was a generous one, if you’d ask me”.

“Generous? Let me laugh. Generous for who?”

“For SeoJon, of course” he mispronounced “I bet he was mad that you refused to welcome his wife and their baby. Such a small creature, you are heartless, majesty. I am sure you have regretted your decision”. 

Hearing it, you fell on your knees, in disbelief. He couldn't have refused to welcome them, he was the one who said to SeoJoon that it was inhuman to be seperate from his loved ones. There must have been an explanation, but what could it possibly be? 

“The audacity you have. If you would have been so generous, you would have sent them here on the first place, without trying to trade them”. He was furious. You know him, you know that tone is more than just cold. He was pissed. 

“It’s my father who picked the slaves for you majesty. Not me. I wouldn’t have picked those three”.

“Yes, I figured. I wonder why” he answered, sarcastic.

You were curious, you needed to know what was this offer MinHo made to the king. Why did JiYong refuse HyunSa and MiNa? So many questions were coming in your mind, so many possible scenarios.

“Jang MinHo, not only did I refuse your deal, but I also commanded that you will give me Master SeoJoon’s wife and daughter. You disobeyed my order. Because of that, you will be punished”

“I told you majesty, I would gladly give them back to you in exchange for Y/n, I was even giving you 5 more men, but you refused”

“WHAT?” you heard yourself asked out loud. Stupefied, you walked towards them, the screen falling on the ground on your way.

“Y/n?” JiYong asked, genuinely surprised to see you here. 

“What did he just say?” you asked your king, dumbfounded.

“Y/n? Is that really you?” MinHo was stupefied. You have changed so much, he had to look at you twice to make sure it was really you.   

“Y/n” the king’s tone was serious and commanding, he never used that tone with you before “Go back in the study room please. I’ll come back and explain later”.

He wanted you to leave, to run away as far as possible from your ex-master. Knowing you might feel distressed right now, he wanted you to stay away from the bad souvenir. His biggest fear was taking place right in front of his eyes and he was under the impression that everything that you had built together was about to be shattered. But for now, it was not the right time to think about it. It was time to take action. 

“No, no, majesty. I would love to hear what she has to say. But first, why is she here, in the royal executive room? How come, the king himself needs to justify his decisions to his staff member, even as beautiful as her? This is interesting” MinHo was having a blast. 

His viscous eyes were on you, since the second you arrived in the room. His mind tuned out of his surroundings and focused only on you. Everything else in the background became muffled sounds and patterns he couldn't make any sense of. In another context, he wouldn’t have recognised you. You’ve gained a few kilograms, you gained some colors on your cheeks as well and you didn’t have those blue circles under your eyes anymore. Your skin was now free of scratches or injuries, at least the exposed skin he could see.  With those ladies’s clothes and combed hair, you looked like a real lady, now. So different than when you were on the plantation. So appealing, he was enthralled by your beauty. He was already convinced that you should return to the plantation but to see you like that, he knew that his obsession would not diminish, that it will even get stronger. Until you were between his legs, where you belong.

Oh! He have tried sex with other slaves, he did. He tried the same positions, the same acts. He used the same words. He even called you by your name, sometimes as he closed his eyes. He understood really soon that none of them would ever be able to replace you, no matter how hard they tried to satisfy his needs. Because none of them was you. It became an obsession. He had to get you back. You were in front of him, so close but still untouchable. Now he had to make you come back to him at all cost.  Even if he loses everything he owns. He will make you his, again. 

“What was the offer, sir? Tell me, please. I want to hear it from you”. You begged your king, shaking from head to toes. Your voice was trembling and your lips threatening to turn blue. You couldn’t have heard correctly.  

It’s MinHo that answered, more than happy to have created a situation.

“Let me light up your mind, Y/n. 

“Shut up, MinHo” JiYong said.

“Like I was just saying, the first week after you were brought here, I sent a written offer to our beloved majesty. You, back in the plantation, against SeoJon’s wife, son and I was even willing to give our majesty, 5 more men in the process. But without a reason, he refused''.

“Are you telling me that I am here, living the best life possible and that because of me, HyunSa and MiNa are deprived from their husband and father? I could have made the reunion possible just by going back on the plantation?” you asked, outraged.

JiYong ignored your comment.

“I didn’t just refuse, I ordered you to liberate them immediately but you lied to me and said they were in HyunSa’s family, which I know wasn’t the truth. And by the way, it’s a daughter they have and her name is baby MiNa.”

“This is such a futile detail”.

“Take me now!  Bring me back there, right now!” You interrupted their dialogue. You became suddenly unable to think straight. You were scared to go back there, petrified. You didn’t want to leave JiYong behind, you don’t think you would be able to live without him anymore. You didn’t want to hurt him either but in your head, there was no other option. It was your happiness against your friend’s. You were so torn, it twisted your stomach.

“Y/n!” the king anxiously called your name until you looked at him. “It’s not your decision to make. Go back to the study room, please. Right now”. He was more ordering than asking. Everything in his tone hinted to you that he was not gonna accept anything but your obedience.

“Please?? Since when a king nicely asks something to his subordinate? This is interesting” 

You didn’t listen to your king, you walked towards your ex-master, willing to follow him. Scared, sad, mad. A mixture of emotions invading you. You looked above your shoulder, to have a last image of the man you will always love. Your eyes met his and you could read fear in his beautiful face. You know, he’s trying to communicate something through his eyes, but the message, unlike normally, didn’t reach you. You didn’t want him to be sad, you didn’t want things to end like this with him. Were you ever destined to be happy? With every passing day, you thought this happiness was finally possible. Is everything you built here, will end like this? Are you gonna screw everyone’s happiness, everywhere you go?

Until today, your biggest wish was for Seo to be reunited with his wife and daughter, there was nothing in the world you wanted more than that. With your hands trembling, you walked towards Jang MinHo. The further you went, the more your chin sank into your neck, moved by an ancient reflex. You paused, thinking of JiYong too. His happiness too, has become your priority, now. Little Channie too, you love him so much. You didn’t want to leave him, them. You didn’t want to make JiYong sad.  What to do? You froze completely, shocked. It was like your body was not responding anymore, like you had dozed off. 

“Y/n, come back here. Don’t you dare, interfere in this”. JiYong was panicking. Every fiber in his body was on high alert. That didn’t make you come back or continue to walk towards MinHo. You were half way between the two men. Unsure about what to do,

“Well, majesty, isn’t her decision? She wants to come back to the plantation, isn’t it what you want, that people can choose for themself?” MinHo provoked the king, openly.

“Jang MinHo, you will leave my court right now and you’ll have to pay me with 20 slaves for disobeying my previous orders, that includes MiNa and HyunSa. I want them both alive, that goes without saying.”

You were not able to think clear, the words JiYong just said rang no bell at all.  A new thought came into your mind. Suddenly, anger invades you. Baby MiNa and HyunSa, your best friend, could have been here already and JiYong refused it. He never mentioned it either. You felt betrayed by the man who said he loves and trusts you. He hid important information from you, information that could’ve changed the course of history for your friends. You could’ve played an important role, allowing their reunion. But Jiyong prevented you. You don’t think you can ever forgive that lie. He didn’t trust you enough to involve you and it broke your heart in two.

“I’m going with him, I’m sorry, sir’ you said to your king. “I want Seo to have his wife and daughter here when he’ll be back. If it’s the only solution, I’ll do it, I’ll sacrifice my own happiness for theirs. I’m so sorry”  Silent tears went down your chin.

“Y/n, it’s not the only solution, Think about it, I’m begging you. Y/n, come here. Right now” he urged. “This is my decision to make, not yours and my decision is final. You come back here’ he said, noticing you were not moving an inch.

‘No” You noticed that a guard has followed you, a hand on his sword. He was getting close to you, waiting for further orders.

MinHo burst out with a big fake laugh, amused. He always loved conflicts.

“I can see that the rumor was true, I couldn't believe it when it came to my ears. Guess what, majesty? There is a rumor that a slave has passed directly from dirt to the king’s bed. Some even go so far as to say that the king refuses his courtesans, now. One mocks the queen, saying that the slave must have certain talents that the queen does not possess. Is that slave our beautiful Y/n? Are you, using my leftovers, majesty?”

“You son of a dog!” JiYong said, angry. His face was red, his heartbeat pulsed at his temples. He was about to lose it. 

“MinHo, you give me your word that you’ll send them here if I follow you?” you asked, looking straight into his eyes, something you have never the courage to do before but with JiYong close, you found the strength. 

“Of course, sweetheart” he purred, reaching a hand to grab you. But JiYong was determined not to let it happen. This man will never touch you again. And you’ll never go back to the plantation. He stood up, his guards circling him automatically. He went straight in front of you, protecting you with his whole body. He clung you a little bit abruptly and dragged you behind him. You tried to protest but he held you back. A guard grabbed you by the waist and kept you from moving. JiYong’s anger was manifest.

“Leave me alone” you told the guard.

“Y/n, go back to the study room. Now”. He ordered you, looking straight at MinHo’s face. He won’t turn his back from him.

“I can’t do that and you know why. Also, you lied to me…. I want my friend’s family to be reunited. If I have to sacrifice myself, I’ll do it” you stated guided by a strong will to help.

“That’s what I thought. YoungBae, pick the best guards to escort her in the study room” he ordered “and make sure she stays there. Use all strategies you have to use. You hear me? Whatever it takes, do it. But she has to stay there. She may try to escape and it would put her life in danger”

“We can use force against her, sir?” A designed guard asked, uncomfortably stepping from one foot to another.

“If you have to tie her down or put her in jail, do it. Otherwise she might try to escape. Watch out, she’s clever”. He knew you would be mad at him. But he had no choice. Until he can come and talk to you, explain, you’ll put yourself in danger.

MinHo laughed and this time, it was a real laughter. 

“I cannot believe it” you said “’I’m so pissed right now. You, don’t you dare touch me” you told the guard when he wanted to escort you.

“I’ll be back soon, Y/n. We’ll talk then” The king said.

You served him a cold look and turned around on your heels, suddenly able to move. You didn’t want the guards to touch you, it always made you uncomfortable when a stranger did. Everybody except JiYong.  You left, escorted by 6 armed guards. You were not happy to be treated like a prisoner and you shown them.

“I will follow, there is no need to touch me” You told the guards.  Although the situation was a nightmare, JiYong was happy to see your fighting attitude. The first time he met you, you wouldn't have react like that. You would have done whatever your master or boss would have asked without questioning it. Now, you were fierce and you seemed strong. That made him happy and proud. Now, he only hopes that you will forgive him, for the whole situation.

“Now, it’s between you and me,” JiYong told MinHo just before you leaved, escorted.

#jiyong kwon jiyong #kwon ji yong #jiyong scenario #bigbang #bigbang scenario #Gd #Gd serie #Gd scenario #Gd smut #Gd angst #G dragon #G dragon angst #G dragon serie #G dragon scenario #Jiyong serie #Bigbang serie

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (13)

There’s a lot of adults outside the compound.

There’s Ino’s dad, who’s fussing over her a lot, and Chouji’s dad, who waves at her, and a guy with spiky hair and a white chevron on his nose who leaps down from the roofs with Kiba, Akamaru and Sakura under his arms, placing them down before leaping away again.

Bigger Shikamaru then makes a face and pulls the hand on her back away to reveal spots of blood. “What happened here?”

“A trap got set off.” She says. “It was gonna hurt Chouji, so me and Ino got in the way.”

Bigger Shikamaru glances at her suspiciously. “Right. And how did this trap get set off?”

She decides discretion is the better part of valor and shrugs, wincing at the movement. “Lots of tripwires. Hard to tell.”

Bigger Shikamaru gives a slow nod, like he doesn’t quite believe her. “Uh huh. And why were there so many tripwires?”

“Because Uchiha’s scared.” She says, looking the man dead in the eye. “He’s really, really scared of that man coming back to finish the job. And he has no one to look after him, so he’s trying to protect himself. And us. By fighting us to make us stronger, or something. He didn’t explain it well.”

Bigger Shikamaru appears inscrutable during her tirade, but he looks away when she keeps staring pointedly at him, with another muttered “Troublesome.”

The click of a camera shutter has her looking over to see Lee taking pictures of the spiky haired guy and another guy with floppy hair, who are posing dramatically for photos. Kiba’s attempting to photobomb them with little success as Shikamaru watches.

“Right.” Bigger Shikamaru hitches her higher on his hip, raising his voice. “Chouza, can you get the rest of them home? Inoichi and I need to get these two to the hospital.”

Lee insists on coming along with them.

Once they realize what’s going on, Sakura and Chouji beg to come along too. It sort of snowballs from there, so they end up with a gaggle of children and Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji’s dads causing a bit of a stir when they all enter the hospital’s reception area.

She sees the same nice doctor from when she bit her lip last time, with the blond hair and pink eyes.

The nurse is nowhere to be seen.

She tells the nice doctor she didn’t bite her lip at all, even when it really hurt, while he’s doing something with the green glow to her shoulders that makes them stop hurting.

He pats her head and gives her a lollipop, and then gives extra ones to Kiba, Hinata, Shino, and Sakura with a wink and vague compliments to the mysterious medical experts for their good work.

Kiba doesn’t stop grinning for the rest of the afternoon, Shino’s insects buzz gently which she thinks means he’s happy, and even Hinata seems quietly pleased.

Chouji’s dad walks her, Lee and Sakura home after they get the confirmation that Ino’s going to be fine, while Shikamaru’s dad takes Hinata, Kiba, Shino, and Uchiha.

Sakura’s quiet and subdued the whole way home, lollipop in her cheek, rubbing her fingers together every so often. She gives a weak little “bye” when they drop her off at her house.

Okaa-san looks particularly harried when she opens the door and takes note of the newly-healed marks on her back and the state of her blood-stained and dusty dress.

Her mother sends her upstairs to have a wash and get changed while Chouji’s dad has a talk with her and Otou-san.

By the time she comes back down, Chouji’s dad has gone home and her parents are sitting around the dinner table as Lee shows them his photos.

“Mayu-chan.” Otou-san says, holding up a picture of her and Ino crouched over Chouji with silver streaks soaring past them like deadly shooting stars. “Not that we aren’t proud of you for looking after your friends, but could you work a little harder to avoid getting hurt too please?”

“I’ll try, Otou-san.” She choruses guiltily.

It seems like what happened has become the talk of the village by dinner time.

Though she could be biased because that happens to be the time Gai-sensei bursts in, babbling on about explosions and grievous wounds and youth and her being sick on Anko’s shoes.

This earns her another week-long cooking ban, on the grounds that it might be a bug and not evil chakra that made her throw up.

Even Iruka-sensei brings it up at Ichiraku’s the following night.

“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday.” He says politely while they’re waiting for their noodles. He seems a bit more at ease now Naruto and Lee aren’t there.

“Yeah.” She sighs, tracing the woodgrain with her finger. “It’s just—ugh.”

Iruka-sensei is nice, so he doesn’t chuckle at her little exclamation of disgust and waits for her to explain herself.

“It’s just—” She throws her hands up at not knowing what it “just” is and decides to start over from what she does know. “Uchiha is not a bad person. He’s dumb and awkward and— whatever, but he’s not bad. He’s just scared. And alone. And everyone thinks he knows what he’s doing because the teacher keeps saying he’s a prodigy and that he’s the best at everything—but he has no shi–blooming clue.”

Iruka-sensei nods seriously, brows furrowing, so she continues. “But he doesn’t know that he doesn’t—or he thinks that since everyone’s calling him a prodigy that he’s supposed to. So when he got scared about the man who murdered his clan coming back because of the thieves, he tried to protect himself with the wires and traps, because there’s no adults who’ll defend him. And then he tried to have everyone over to defend us too, because he’s not a bad person, he’s just kinda dumb and paranoid, y’know?”

“I...think I do know, yes.” Iruka-sensei says slowly, like he’s realizing something.

“Yeah—and before me and Naruto went over and cleaned his kitchen, his kitchen was a tip, because he had no idea what to do with all this food people were giving him!” She turns to Teuchi-sama. “I mean, he was just eating white rice and uncooked tomatoes everyday! It was like when I met Naruto, except he had all this food when Naruto had nothing, but he didn’t know what to do with it, so it was all rotting and going to waste!”

Teuchi-sama winces.

“That must’ve stunk something awful!” Ayame-sama chirps.

“Sanji as my witness it did.” She groans, covering her face while Otou-san carefully pats her back.

“Nobody was feeding Naruto?” Iruka-sensei interrupts, brows drawn down.

“Not from what we could see.” Okaa-san replies, daintily sipping at her water. “He’d be chased out of the market. I think Ichiraku’s was the only place he could get a square meal, until Mayu-chan started feeding him.”

Teuchi-sama nods. “He was our favorite customer. Still is, in fact.”

“Mayu with her little lunchboxes.” Otou-sama smiles nostalgically. “Up at the crack of dawn, carrying around those sheets of paper with what he liked and didn’t like on them.”

She squirms, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t know him then.” She complains. “But he was hungry. I couldn’t leave him hungry.”

Teuchi-sama nods approvingly as he slides a bowl of miso ramen in front of her.

Iruka-sensei is quiet while he eats.

“What did you tell him.” Uchiha growls at lunch on Monday.

She blinks in confusion, about to bite into her onigiri. “What did I tell who?”

Uchiha looks pained, his grilled sandwich leaking tomato juice and pesto in his grip.

“The Hokage,” He grits out. “Has determined that I am not suited to living on my own because of something one of you said. So I now have this chunin living in my house and leaving his stupid porn everywhere.”

She winces. “But I haven’t seen the Hokage all weekend. He was with Naruto, and Naruto wasn’t with us.”

“We did hear the explosion.” Naruto pipes up unhelpfully. “It really freaked his mask guys out—we thought the village was under attack or something when we heard it, believe it!”

Sasuke glares at them all, taking a mutinous bite of his sandwich.

“Mayu.” Shikamaru says. “Do you know what my dad does?”

She frowns as she swallows and takes another bite. “Tactician?”

Shikamaru’s smile is slow and spiteful. “He’s the Jounin Squad Leader of Konoha. Second only to the Hokage himself.”

She stops chewing.

Oh. Oh.

Whoops.

Uchiha looks between the two of them, growing redder and redder with each passing second.

“TRAITORS!!!” He howls finally, and flings himself across the table at Shikamaru.

They all get detention again.

She’s really not sure how long the teacher expects to keep justifying things with “you’re friends and supposed to control each other” when he’s the authority figure here.

Though maybe her telling him this wasn’t the best idea.

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Chouji says loyally.

“Thank you Chouji.” She replies.

“Still a dumb thing to say.” Naruto adds.

She places her hand over his mouth. “Sssh.”

He licks it again.

While they’re wrestling, she hears Sakura ask Uchiha, “Are you gonna be okay, Sasuke-kun?”

Uchiha snorts. “I’ll be fine. I just have to convince the Hokage that I’m strong enough to live on my own. And to do that, I need to get rid of the trespasser in my home.”

“...How are you gonna do that?” Ino asks, sounding a lot more wary than she has in previous Uchiha conversations.

He grunts in a way that conveys indecision, or maybe constipation.

“What if you pranked him?” Naruto suggests from where she’s almost managed to force her spit-contaminated arm to touch his cheek. “I know some pretty good ones that the jerks in the market never saw coming!”

Uchiha pauses.

His lips curl into a slow, cruel smirk.

She’s not privy to all the details, because Naruto is sworn to solemn secrecy by the prankster’s code.

What she does know is that the chunin who leaves his porn everywhere is subjected to potent itching powder in every fabric item he attempts to use, and somehow becomes convinced that the ghosts of the Uchiha clan would curse his family with pimply skin for every generation thereafter if he did not vacate the premises immediately.

Sasuke’s victorious mood is dampened when the Hokage apparently sends a new chunin to live with him the very next day.

This chunin apparently has a bad habit of talking down to children, no matter whether they’re the last remnants of their clan or not, and abusing his new position to bring home “friends”.

Uchiha takes this as a declaration of war.

He ends up mobbed by every cat from here to Kusagakure thanks to a potent mixture of valerian, catnip, and a secret ingredient that Uchiha refuses to divulge which was mixed into his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in small enough increments to be unnoticeable until it was too late.

The Hokage sends a jounin.

Kiba ends up recruited to the cause.

The jounin somehow ends up ingesting enough laxatives to put a small monkey out of commission, and then has his all-black ensemble and glasses forcibly dyed many colors thanks to the liberal application of industrial-strength paint.

The Hokage sends Anko.

The ensuing carnage results in the statue of the Niidaime losing its nose and has Uchiha lying low for three weeks, alternating between hiding in her and Sakura’s houses and Naruto’s apartment.

A few days before their finals, Uchiha comes in looking oddly...defeated.

“The Hokage and the Council say that unless I accept the next caretaker they provide for me, I’m going to go into the Orphanage and the Uchiha lands will be forfeit.”

Hinata covers her mouth with her hands. Ino and Kiba sit there, silent and slack-jawed. Chouji pushes away his food and Shikamaru actually sits up. Shino’s insects stop buzzing altogether.

“They can’t do that, can they?” Naruto says, looking around for confirmation. “I mean, that’s your home, right? It’s yours.”

“But Sasuke-kun’s technically a ward of state and has to do what they say.” Sakura says slowly. “Until he becomes a genin or comes of age as a civilian.”

“And that’s eighteen or something, right?” She adds with a heavy heart.

Uchiha puts his head down on the table.

“Hey, that’s rough man.” Kiba says, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Akamaru strides down the table and settles himself next to Uchiha’s head, gently licking his cheek until the boy turns and buries his hand in the puppy’s soft fur.

“Did they say who it’ll be?” She asks gently, pushing her BLT over to him.

He shakes his head slowly, lifting the sandwich and taking a bite. “The Hokage only said they’ll be there to greet me after school.”

“Well, whoever they are, they can’t be worse than Anko, right?” Ino says, trying to be upbeat.

Everybody at the table shudders.

They stand with him in solidarity at the end of the Academy day.

The other parents and children look at them strangely, a group of clan kids and a few civilians bunched together around the last Uchiha like a protective barrier, but no one comes forward to try and take him.

It isn’t until the last of them are leaving that someone arrives.

Iruka-sensei comes out of the Academy building, carrying a suitcase.

“Ah, Ketsugi-chan, Lee-kun, Uzumaki-kun!” He says, smiling brightly. “How are you doing?”

“We are well, thank you Iruka-sensei!” Lee says. “We are waiting with Uchiha-kun for his new guardian!”

Iruka-sensei’s eyes soften and he kneels down. “So you’re Sasuke-kun, huh? My name is Umino Iruka. It’s nice to meet you.”

Uchiha averts his eyes and stares stubbornly at the floor.

“I don’t want you in my house.” He says. “But the Hokage says if I don’t I have to go to the Orphanage.”

Iruka-sensei winces. “I heard about that. Do you want me to stay in one of the branch houses then? I just cancelled my apartment contract with my landlord, but I’m sure if I begged hard enough, she’d let me stay there for longer until we sort out what you’re comfortable with.”

Uchiha peers at him suspiciously. “...Okay. Do that.”

Suddenly Iruka-sensei’s stomach gurgles.

He blushes. “Ah, do you mind if we get some food first? There’s a pretty good ramen place I know.”

“Ichiraku’s?” Naruto bursts in eagerly.

“We’re not feeding you.” Uchiha says dismissively, ignoring Naruto’s cry of betrayal.

He begins to stride off down the path, only to turn when the teacher doesn’t follow. “Well? It’s annoying if you’re hungry.”

Iruka-sensei’s mouth quirks into a smile.

Somehow, she thinks as the teacher and boy disappear down the path, discussing one of the pranks that befell his hapless predecessor, this might turn out alright.

It’ll certainly be better than Anko.

#but i like one piece #my writing #naruto #one piece #reincarnation #isekai #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #kiba inuzuka #akamaru #hinata hyuga #sakura haruno #ino yamanaka #inoichi yamanaka #chouji akimichi #choza akimichi #nara shikamaru #shikaku nara #anko mitarashi #iruka umino #rock lee #maito gai #naruto oc #ketsugi mayu #one piece chopper #one piece sanji #pranking

[girlinthecorner19]

Rinku

Chapter 1: Zuko Alone

Heeeyyy so idk how to do a master list so if someone could help me with that, what would just swell. I am currently writing chapter 2 so you don't have to wait long for an update! It will probably be out by the end of the weekend. I start work again on the 13th so I won't update as often :,(

Words: 2161

Zuko was alone and starving. He could still smell the cooking meat from the fire if the family he passed. He once again clutched his grumbling stomach and sighed as he swayed with the movements of the ostrich horse. He felt weak sucking the last drop of water. His eyes drooped before me momentarily closed them. He shook his head awake once he saw the haunting images of his mother though. He needed to keep going.

"Hey you there!" A voice called out. He jumped slightly at the sudden noise and looked around for its source, sounded like a girl. The mystery girl jogged up to him, he squinted as she came forward. She was wearing tan clothes that covered almost her whole body so she blended in with the dry dirt surrounding. He wasn't able to see her face until she uncovered it as she approached.

"It's been a while since I've seen anyone out here, mind if I walk with you?" She flashed him an inocente smile, but Zuko internally groaned.

The last thing he needed was more distractions.

Picking up on Zuko's hesitant looks she held up her hands. "I carry no weapons." She looked at his dual sword, but her cheerful expression didn't change till she looked over him and his Ostrich. Her face changed to potty. "but I have some supplies. Your ostrich looks just as tired as you do." Zuko studied her up and down. Her hair was up in a loose bun, a few strands framed her tanned skin. She flashed a big smile trying to ease him. He looked into her eyes. Earth Kingdom, which made sense, he was in the Earth Kingdom. But they were suck a striking emerald color, dark flex of forest green sprinkled in. He took in her beauty, but quickly shook his thoughts away. He didn't have time for beautiful, mysterious girls who came up to him promising him food.

I'm fine, you should be on your way." The girl shook her head, looking into his ostrich's eyes. Much to his dismay she stroked the animals face. It let out a pitiful sign.

"He is exhausted, you would both do well to stop." She looked up at him no longer smiling, a much more serious look on her face. It felt like she was staring into his soul. He squirmed in his saddle. "I insist you at least stop by my camp for rest, please." The way she said please almost sounded like her life depended on it.

He signed, she looked stubborn but he didn't know who to trust so he unsheathes his swords. She took a step back, looking shocked.

"Please I mean no harm I—" she pleaded

"I'm just trying to keep myself safe, I'm not attacking." He inhaled "I've been traveling a while, I don't know who to trust." His expression stiffened in crontrast she flashed another smile and took the reins of his animal. He was tired, and he did need food. She looked harmless and he was sure he could beat her if it came down to it, so might as well accept her kindness.

"I understand. It's not too far away, so don't worry." She reached into her bag, Zuko was ready to strike, and took two apples tossing one to him and fed the other to his horse. "Does he have a name?"

"No."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

She nodded but didn't question him further. There was a pause, only the crunching sound of sand and dirt under feet and the ostrich's hooves.

"Do you have a name?" He asked

"Yes." She said in a husckly voice, Zuko assume she was mocking him. After a few snickers she continued "my name is Nya.

Nya, it fit her.

****

Zuko examined the campsite. It was nice he had to admit. A fast flowing stream of crystal clear water, lots of bush and trees for cover, she had a nice camp fire set up and a tent near it. It was like an oasis in the almost desert like area of the earth kingdom.

She led his horse to the stream where it drank eagerly. Taking a small cup from her bag, she filled it with the cool water and handed it to Zuko. He eagerly drank it. Nya eyed him as he gulped the water down. She blushed slightly, when he caught her staring.

"Can I have some more?" He asked politely

"Streams right there, I'm going to make us some tea."

Tea, it made him think of his uncle making him smile slightly. Once he filled his water he sat by the fire watching Nya with interest.

She looked skinny, which made sense with the amount of fashions she had. She is cute though. He huffed, causing Nya to look at him confused hold yourself together Zuko, you're on a mission. Honor is far more important than a cute girl.

They made conversation, mostly one sided by Nya as she cooked the fish and some sort of cabbage. But they sat in silence as they ate. She didn't have much food. He noted after their small meal she only had an apple, and a few berries left. She had offered the rest to him, but he felt pity, which was slightly unexpected.

She cleaned the tin dishes in the stream before sitting by the fire. She looked at the sunset then into Zuko's eyes.

"You are welcome to stay here for the night. I've got an extra sack and pillow if you need it." She offered.

He shook his head "I appreciate your generosity, I'm a stranger yet you gave me food and shelter, but I really should be getting on my way. I say a villiage just ahea—"

"They charge way too much for inns, you will never be able to afford it. They jacked up the prices since the war." Her eyes once again pleaded with him. "Please, stay." And once again she said please like her life depended on it.

Zuko felt confused, "why do you want me to stay so much, you don't know me." He asked.

Nya's face went red and she became flustered as she stumbled over her words. "I—um—"

"Spit it out!" Zuko barked. She sputtered, "come on!"

"I JUST DONT WANT TO BE ALONE!" Nya finally said. He was taken aback, inhaling sharply. She lowered her head. "I don't have very much food because people see me as weak and steal my food. Some... men..." she stopped and tears rolled down her face.

Zuko, not equipped to deal with crying girls, looked at her, eyes wide. He felt his heartened heart soften slightly. He wanted to protect her...maybe he'd just stay the night.

She cried softly to herself, and looked up. "Sorry, we just met and now I'm crying to you about my problems." She laughed slightly.

"I'll stay with you." He said looking up at the orange sky.

She gasped and lunged forward putting her arms around his neck. Zuko was ready to fire bend her right off of him, but the way it made him feel changed his mind. Her embrace, though was meant to comfort her, comforted him too.

What is it with this girl. He thought as he awkwardly patted her back.

"Thank you." She whispered before parting.

****

Zuko lied awake, unable to sleep for multiple reasons. One she had said she gets stolen from and also... he just couldn't see why anyone would want to hurt her. She's just a nice girl. Two he didn't like sleeping next to people he didn't know. And three this girl could potentially be a major set back. In the hours of knowing her she had managed to make him blush, and think of her as cute and beautiful.

She is... he thought as he rolled onto his side, watching her peaceful expression on her face and the steady rise and fall of her chest. Damn he thought angrily and rolled to his back.

He didn't know when he fell asleep but he was awoken by rustling in the bushes. He instantly got up and too his swords out of the sleeping sack.

He circled the camp site, but it was silent.

"Show yourself you coward." He whispered.

The tree above him shook, and he quickly drew back. "So the little girl got herself a bodyguard. I'll make quick work if you, kid" the slimy voice above him said.

"We will see about that." Zuko gritted his teeth. And debated whether he should firebend this bitch into next week make the first move.

The man jumped out of the tree. He wore a hood, but Zuko could tell from his build he was a grown man. Anger built inside of him at the thought of him taking advantage of a young girl who couldn't be older than 17.

"You're just a kid what are you going to do?" He taunted.

But his eyes widened with shock when Zuko rushed I'm with speed he didn't expect. Swords clashed. The thief backed away, but Zuko quickly advanced. And with one swift move he disarmed him.

"You are one of the most dispicable humans out there. You pray on the weak, and steal from the poor. Only picking a fight with those you know cannot defend themselves." He spat at him, holding both swords to his throat. "Give me one reason I shouldn't end your life."

"I—please have mercy I'll never bother her again I promise!" He sank to his knees and begged.

"Scum! Of course you won't because I'm going to—"

"Zuko STOP!" Nya rushed over to him grabbing his arm to lower the sword. He did but kept eye contact with the thief.

"He should pay for his crimes." He growled his left sword almost touching the thief's throat.

"Yes, but not by death he will be put in jail. Or maybe the soldiers in the city will rough him up a bit. But death in not for us to decide." She stepped in front of Zuko and lowered both of the swords.

He huffed "you would get along great with my sister." He said sarcastically. Zuko looked back down at the man who was shaking with fear then back to Nya. "Got any rope?"

****

It was morning by the time Zuko got back to Nya's campsite. He tossed her some gold pieces. She looked up confused.

"Turns our he was a wanted thief so, I got some bounty from it." Zuko said as he began packing up his things.

"You're leaving so soon?" She asked.

"Yeah." Zuko stopped packing and looked into her eyes, but they were angry. "You know," he drew his swords, Nya's heart dropped and she stepped back. "I realized something you said while I was traveling back."

She continued to step back, but panicked once she hit a tree. Sweat dripping down her face. "What is that?"

Zuko stepped forward his face inches away. "How do you know my name?"

She gasped, scared if she told the truth he would think she was lying and kill her. "You're Prince Zuko, everyone knows who you are!"

He shook his head. "No. People know my name, but not many out fo the fire nation would know what I look like." He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. And even though she feared for her life, a light rose tint painted itself on her cheeks. She stared into his golden eyes.

"I...I don't actually know..." she looked down, tear fell from her eyes which made Zuko hesitant and step back. "I can't explain it, but when I say you on the road... something inside me told me I needed to talk to you. And the more I was with you the more I felt I was connected to you. And then as I was sleeping I had a—a vision I guess." She looked back up, Zuko's mouth parted at the determination in her eyes. "And now I'm sure that I'm supposed to travel with you Zuko! I know I'm supposed to help you find the Avatar!"

Aaaah I can't tell if this is good XD. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading.

Writing this is actually more difficult than I thought. Writing for Zuko is challenging, but good practice for difficult characters. Like he's kinda an ass but also he's fighting with himself bc he secretly do want to be good. So writing his interactions with Nya is kinda tough. I'm also very thirsty for Zuko so I just wanna write some heavy make out scene. I'm going to write smut but I'm trying to go easy on it. But I want to but can't bc Zuko is not a slut so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.  But also I'm like choke me you sexy son of a bitch. Wow I have no chill ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

#zuko x oc #zuko/reader #zuko #avatar the last airbender #avatar #uncle iroh #fanfic #eventual fluff #eventual romance #slow burn #eventual smut

[thecleverdame]

The Woodsman - 3

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: A/B/O Fairy Tale - You’re a sheltered, thirty-something princess on the run from your brother, the newly crowned ‘Mad King’ of France. When you’re waylaid by marauders and left for dead in the forest, a gruff woodsman nurses you back to health.

Warnings: A/B/O smut, knotting, language, violence, assault, non-con

Word Count: 32,000

The entire story is complete and available now on Patreon. subscribe for a pledge of $2.50 a month and get access to this and other Patreon exclusive content.

-

Despite his animosity toward you, Sam is a better man than any you’ve come across before. You believe his words, you trust with all your heart that he would protect you if the situation arose.

He deserves the truth.

“My father, King Henry, died last year.” You look down to your lap, wringing your hands together.

“We heard news of his passing,” Sam confirms softly, watching intently as your facade drops and is replaced by real, raw emotion that spreads from your eyes to your mouth. This is the authentic you, without the dressings of pomp and circumstance, the you he knew was in there if only he could get to it. Sam recognizes it when he sees it.

“As the line of succession dictates my oldest brother, William, assumed the throne.” You continue.

“The one they call the Mad King?” Sam’s eyes narrow. Perhaps beyond reason, he’s looking for an excuse to believe in you. “Did he not treat you well?”

You take a pregnant breath, tipping your head back. Just get it over with.

“When we were children William and I were close, very close. It’s a bond that only grew as we aged. Perhaps he was always a bit of a dandy but I loved him for it. The two of us had an appreciation for the finer things our life affords; the cuisine and modern fashions. Certainly more than any of my other siblings.”

Sam is silent, his arm crossed over his chest.  

“It was around the time my father fell ill that I noticed a change in his behavior. I found William talking to himself in his bedchambers one afternoon, but his symptoms would come and go. I should have told my father before he died, perhaps he could have done something, ensured my brother Daniel assumed the throne instead...but I said nothing. I didn’t want to embarrass William in front of our parents, they already thought him weak and I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation.”

“I wouldn’t know until much later what was happening to him, and by then it was too late. You have to understand Samuel, I always knew that William had a proclivity for...men. I found him in the stables with a serf when I was twelve and it was our secret. He’d had a lover for many years, an older man named, Anton, who slowly went insane. As fate would have it Anton passed away just before my father. I thought maybe it was William’s grief rearing its head after losing the person he cared for most but wasn’t permitted to openly grieve for. Then our father pass. He and Anton died within a week, so close together. It wasn’t until after William’s coronation that I saw the rash on his hands, then the ulcers.”

“Syphilis?” Sam asks calmly.

“Yes,” you nod. “His behavior became increasingly erratic. He started to have these delusions of paranoia. He came to believe that there was a secret society of people trying to infiltrate our family, assassins who would stop at nothing to see us all dead. When it was time for him marry and declare a queen he refused every woman in the kingdom. He said he couldn’t trust anyone outside of the family. So he chose our sister Elizabeth. He married our sister and then he ordered me to do the same...to marry our brother, Philip. I pleaded with him but he would hear none of it.”

Sam’s heart drops. He’s pictured you as a spoiled woman running away from a privileged life, perhaps an arranged marriage, but nothing like this.

“When I refused William saw me a conspirator. I no longer had free will. I was given an order from the King on pain of death. I’d be expected to consummate a marriage with…” You stop swallowing tears. “I would not lie with my brother, so I had no other choice but to leave or be killed.”

“You should have told me,” Sam runs a hand over his face. “We could have taken precautions. I certainly wouldn't have paraded you around the village.”

“I think, perhaps, I am still trying to protect William. And I’m scared and desperate and utterly humiliated. And now I am alone.” You feel sick. As if the contents of your stomach might find themselves on the ground in front of you.

“No,” Snapping to attention, Sam grabs your shoulder, turning you toward him. “You’re not alone.”

There’s a soft affection in his eyes that you haven’t noticed before. His face is close to yours and you wonder how you’ve failed to appreciate how handsome he is.

“I should have moved on as soon as I was healthy enough to travel. I’ve brought this trouble upon you and you asked for none of it. If I’m honest, I’d say that I don’t know what to do. When the thieves killed my companions they took everything from me. I’ve nothing left and nowhere to go.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Sam rubs his hands together. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“If I stay it will make you a compatriot.” You protest.

“Let that be my concern.” His brow narrows like a father prying truth for a child. “Have you told me everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re welcome here. However,” He stands up, looking out at the fields and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ll have to tell me when your heat comes. I’ll need warning.”

“That won’t be an issue…” You close your eyes at the humiliation of having to explain yourself. “I know you think very little of my husband and the kind of man he was. That the thought of him is amusing to you. But I loved him very much. He was a good man and when he died a part of me did too. Something happened to me, I don’t know what but I don’t - I haven’t had a heat in years.”

You expect some sliver of witty repartee, at least a snide comment about Omegas and your lack of any useful skill, but he says nothing.

Sam simply nods and offers you his hand.  

You take it, sliding your palm over his warm, rough skin. There’s a tingle in your chest, something faint and low. If you weren’t so broken you might have a stronger response to the touch of an Alpha, but this is...something.

---

The fact that Sam’s brother is also an Alpha is an inescapable fact. His scent is lighter, perhaps a bit sweeter than Sam’s, but not at all pleasing to the senses. Maybe he’s coming off rut or perhaps his smell is always this strong, all you know is that it makes your stomach turn as the three of you sit down for supper.

“You seem on edge.” Sam leans toward you, lifting his chin in your direction.

“I’m perfectly fine.” You brush him off, ladling stew into a bowl.

Dean pulls his chair closer to the table, dipping a spoon into the concoction and letting it drip back into the bowl. His eyes shift from Sam to you. “What is this?”

“Pottage,” you grimace, looking at him as if he’s a lunatic. What else could it possibly be? “Is there something wrong?”

You spent all afternoon cutting vegetables and adding spices, sweating over the hearth like a common scullery maid. You stink of lard and cooked meat and you most definitely don’t appreciate his apprehension.

“No,” Dean raises his forehead and pouts his lower lip. “It just looks bit runny.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Sam nods, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. You watch expectantly as his features tense and he grunts, then starts to slowly chew. He crunches his way through a carrot that should be soft.

Dean sniffs at his helping before digging in and his reaction is far less polite. He spits it back into the bowl as you look on in horror. “I’m sorry,” he raises his hands, palms up. “But I can’t even pretend. It tastes like a salt lick.”

Sam shouts, putting his fingers to his mouth and pulling away with a small piece of bone. “I may have just cracked a tooth.”

You sit back in your chair, defeated. You’d be offended if you had an ounce of energy left, but you’re exhausted. It hasn't helped that Dean’s scent is the only thing you can concentrate on. You can still distinguish Sam’s Alpha in the mix, but it takes concentration.

The version of yourself that first arrived here would be indigent at their reactions, after all, you have tried your best. But you are decidedly not the same woman, so you give up pretense and burst into stomach aching laughter that makes your eyes water. Sam grins and Dean laughs along with you until you’re waving your hand in front of your face. “I told Samuel I couldn’t cook to save my life, but he insisted.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Sam smiles.

After a more appetizing dinner of bread, cured meat and too much wine, Dean finally leaves and you can breathe again.

“You hardly touched your food.” Sam comments.

“I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Are you feeling ill?”

“I do have a bit of a weak stomach this evening. I like your brother, and his stories, very much; but he stinks. I’m glad he’s taken his leave. I was ready to go to the barn for the remainder of the evening.”

Sam knows leaps and bounds more about the dynamics of Alphas and Omegas than you, comparatively his knowledge could fill books while you would struggle to write a sonnet. So, he knows that claimed and bonded Omegas are especially sensitive to the scent of other Alphas. His mother could never stand the smell of any Alpha other than his father, it set her on edge and made her stomach turn.

He stinks.

Sam chalks it up to the fact that you’ve been living in his house. All this time around each other is not natural and it’s bound to have unintended effects.

Yes, that has to be it.

---

Time passes quickly as months turn into seasons. Spring turns into a warm summer that inevitably fades to fall. If you had to account for your time you’d be hard pressed to explain where the days escape to. You and Sam find a rhythm that’s tolerable, but often contentious.

It’s still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely cresting over the horizon as he hands you the list.

“It’s one task, but it’s important. You must get everything in the proportions listed and boil them according to the instructions. It needs to be exact. Do you understand?” Sam implores.

“Yes.” stifling a yawn you place the back of a hand to your lips.

“I’ll be back just after dark. Have it ready by then.” Sam leans down, insisting your full attention. “Are you certain you can handle this?”

“Samuel,” you pick a small bite of the bread form the loaf and pop it into your mouth. “Do you have no faith in me at all? It’s one trip to the village. I am not a child.”

“That’s still up for debate.” He grumbles. He’s been in an absolutely rancid mood for the last several days.

“I won’t let you down.” Dropping a sprig of pine needle into a mug of hot water you don’t even look up as he leaves.

-

Perhaps if you hadn’t gone back to bed all of this could have been avoided. What’s the saying? You can take the princess out of the castle, but not the castle from the princess.

You’ve never been an early riser and you don’t see the harm in crawling back into bed for just a short while.

When you do awake it’s midday and there’s still plenty of time to make the walk to the herbalist. You assume this concoction he’s requested is for his back, you’ve suspected he’s been in pain for several days. Not only had his attitude soured more than normal but he’s been twitchy and marginally more aggressive.

You dress, gathering a sack and his all-important list, ready to begin your journey. You set up off toward the village at a brisk pace, humming to yourself when you see one of the chickens along the side of the path. The bird is farther from the house than she should be. After several failed attempts you lift her into your arms and walk her back to the coop.

When you open the door to the pen four others dart out, squawking and trotting free around the yard. The afternoon devolves quickly into early evening as you battle chickens and then, by an unfathomable twist of circumstance, the dairy cow that liberates herself from the field.

By the time the animals are secured, the sun is setting and you failed to accomplish the lone task Sam gave you.

You smell him before he’s inside. You’re on your knees stoking the fire when the familiar but unnervingly intense aroma comes to your attention. It’s easy to place Sam’s scent, you know it well, but this is stronger than it should be.

The small door flies open with a bang, hitting the wall with enough force to shake the structure. You pop to your feet as Sam stalks inside. He’s sweating, his mouth twisted in discomfort when he looks at you.

It’s his rut.

How could you have not known this was coming? He’s been showing signs for days and you just ignored them, blissfully unaware of his impending cycle.

“Where is it?” He grits. His eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking over his lip as he scents the air, head tilting from one side to the other.  The drink he wanted was for this, a herbal suppression to keep his instincts at bay.

Horrified you step back and admit, “I didn’t...a lot of things happened today and I didn’t have the chance-”

“Run,” he mutters, his expression numbing, visibly struggling to restrain himself. Inching away from the door his eyes go wide and his lip curls. “Run, now!”

“Samuel,” you hesitate as the meaning of his words sink in. Panic surges from your head to your legs and you pick up your skirts and dash into the night.

You make it halfway to the stable before two great hands are around your waist, hoisting you into the air and over his shoulder. Sam plucks you off the ground like a sack of grain and stalks toward the open door of the barn.

“Put me down!” You shout, hammering your fists at his back.

And he does, he drops you unceremoniously onto the hay covered floor and pounces on top of you.

“Samuel, please don’t.” You hit his chest, small hands trying to push him off, but resistance is futile. His large stature affords him easy restraint as you buck under the weight of him. Your flailing legs, kicking wildly, are hampered as he wedges his hips between your thighs.

“Stop squirming,” he snarls, hooking a hand under your knee to bend your leg, letting the heft of his body hold you to the ground. His hand ventures under your dress, one big rough hand grabbing at the bare skin of your legs all the while pressing his face into your neck, drawing in a deep breath before dragging his nose and open mouth across the swell of your breasts.  

“Please don’t do this,” tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

“I said stop moving.” He smacks the side of your face with an open hand, strong enough to make a sickening crack. Sam’s eyes are blown wide, crazed by the swell of all-consuming lust. This is not the man who opened his home to you, this is someone foreign and terrifying. He reaches up, pinning both arms above your head with one hand as the other ventures between your thighs.

His fingers poke at the lips of your sex and you screw your eyes shut, turning your head to the side. Without the slightest hesitation, he shoves his middle and index finger inside your pussy, pushing until he’s knuckle deep.

You should be wet for him. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a willing partner, any normal Omega should respond to his rut by making you ripe and ready, but instead, he forces two long fingers into your bone dry snatch and you yelp in pain. If he fucks you like this he’ll tear you open, a realization that makes you fight even harder.

“You’re hurting me,” you scream, a sob tearing from your throat.

“You’ll slick up once I have my cock in you.” He sneers, reaching for his trousers.

There’s a hollow popping sound as a large piece of firewood connects with Sam’s head. His eyes roll back and he collapses, the weight of him knocking the air from your chest.

Dean’s face is above you.

He rolls Sam’s limp body off you with a grunt, looking from you to his brother. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea to stay here with you. He wouldn’t listen.”

You scramble backward, straightening your skirt, wiping tears from your face. Sam’s laid out flat on his back, his mouth open like a fish gulping for air. He makes a faint sound, a pained groan as his head falls to the side.

“Is he hurt?” On hands and knees, you crawl to Sam, putting a hand on his forehead. You inspect him, running fingers through his hair until you find the growing bump at the base of his skull.

“I didn’t hit him that hard.” Dean leans down giving his brother a once over.

“This was my fault.” You confess, smoothing hair away from his face. “If I had just done what he asked none of this would have happened.”

Dean tilts his head toward you. “He never drank the tincture?”

“I didn’t know what if was for, he didn’t tell me...I didn’t have it ready”

“I wasn’t even entirely convinced it would work, especially with an Omega living in his house. You two are playing with fire. If he took you, like this…” Dean shakes his head at you with disgust. “He’d never forgive himself.”

“I know,” you’re defeated. You sit back onto the filthy floor of the barn. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. He wasn’t Samuel, the way he was looking at me....”

“A rut’s enough to make any Alpha react like that, but he’s had you around...it’s not a smart situation for either of you.”

“Should we take him inside?” You propose.

“You’re going inside and I’m taking Sam with me. It’ll pass in a couple of days.”

-

It’s almost a week before he returns.

Dean comes every morning and evening, tending to Sam’s livestock and handling a growing list of common tasks that you have no pension for. Had someone told you six months prior that you’d be living in a rickety cottage, pining away for a forester, you’d have told them the very idea was preposterous. But you do miss Sam, more than you care to admit.

Sam returns just before dusk, the sun is hanging low over the horizon. There’s a tapping on the door, Sam knocking at the door of his own home before slowly coming inside.

You stand next to the table, hands clasped in front of you, strangely formal for such a moment. You almost forgot how large he is until he’s standing in the same room again, looming over you like a sad, regretful giant.

He clears his throat before addressing you. “I’m sorry, for anything I did. I can’t remember much but Dean said he thinks I might have...hurt you.”

“No,” you reply quickly, taking a step toward him. If he doesn’t remember, you’re not about to make him relive it. “I will admit I was bit scared but no damage was done.” You worry your tone is too upbeat, inappropriate for the setting but you’re just unbearably happy to see him. “I think we both did a few things that we regret...or in my case lack thereof, but I was hoping that maybe we could forgo the apologies and unpleasantness and try to return to what we were. I don’t think we need to speak about it.”

“I’d like that as well,” he smiles tightly.

And it’s never spoken of again.

---

“Let’s see it then.” Sam holds out his hand.

You don’t even want to show him. Sam never misses an opportunity to mention that your elite education has no practical application. He’d gone on and on about finding a skill, anything to make yourself useful, so you recruited Martha to help you. After talking over the options you decided candle making was a good place to start. It didn’t appear difficult.

Sam slows his pace, taking the beeswax from you and examining it. He turns it upside down and right side up as his brow furrows. “What is it?”

“You are not serious?” You’re taken aback by his question. He shakes head and looks back to the mystery object. You stop in your tracks, folding arms over your chest. “It’s a candle!”

He looks skeptically from you to the candle, then back again. “This is a candle? Surely there’s there some kind of mold that one puts the wax into to provide more of a shape.”

“Well,” you concede, “There was a mold but I applied too much heat and removed it before it set correctly.” Sam just stares at you, his face deadpan, and then breaks out into a full body laugh. His shoulders shake and his chest heaves, apparent delight that racks his entire body. “It’s not that funny,” you correct him as your good nature fades.

At least you tried, shouldn’t he focus on that?

“Oh Princess, it is that funny.” He’s laughing so hard that a tear leaks from his eyes and he wipes from his face with his sleeve. “You can’t pour wax into a mold.”

“It is more complicated than it looks, Samuel. I can assure you,” your indignant tones just amused him all the more and he bends over with his hands on knees.

---

He’s told you not to touch the mighty sword that hangs above the hearth. He mentioned it only one time, commenting that it was his late father’s blade and it’s not to be tinkered with, but you want to do something for him. Something special.

You start the day with energized determination. For once you’re going to be the one who has something to offer, a gift. It’s been weeks since his return and you’re ready to pitch in and help. Sam’s been a more than a generous host, managing to take care of your needs as well as those of his livestock and business.

When you were a girl you pictured your father as the ideal of what a man should be. He was an intellectual who spent his days meeting with advisors and surrounded himself with men much more intelligent than himself. He knew one man was simply not capable of understanding the nuances of running a kingdom, so he asked for help when he needed it. He was a kind, fair king and a balanced leader. You thought of this as work, hard work, and to some degree it was.

But the truth is Sam works harder than anyone you’ve ever known. He rises before dawn, tending to the cow and the horses. He feeds the pigs, spreads meal for the chickens and lugs mounds of hay from the barn to the stable. And when he’s done and the sun is up he eats his breakfast, heads off to the woods where he cuts and chops and hauls lumber until the twilight hours.

You don’t expect him home so soon. The sun has just set and you assume you’ll have more to finish the task at hand: polishing his father’s sword. You’re nearly finished, wiping down the blade when he returns unexpectedly.

He’s normally sullen in the evenings, tired from a long day, but tonight he comes through the door with a smile on his face. In his left hand, he has a small sack filled with Bilberries, they’re your favorite. His pleasant disposition fades as his eyes look from you the sword laid over the table.

“What are you doing?” The moment you see his face you know this was a mistake.

“I was just...I wanted to do something for you. You’ve done so much for me and…”

“Put it down.” His jaw ticks and he closes his eyes for a moment. He’s been mad before but this is a fury that’s new, it’s a wave of quiet anger which makes it all the more terrifying.

You set the blade down on the table, smoothing the cloth in your hands before putting in on the table too. “I thought-”

“You don’t think, that’s the whole problem. You’re so used to doing whatever you desire without any consequence that you don’t stop to consider how your actions affect other people.”

“I’m sorry.” Don’t cry. “The last thing I wanted to do was upset you. I just wanted to-” Don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“You should leave.” He commands, resolute.

“Samuel-” You trying to protest, at least explain yourself but he doesn’t give you the opportunity.

“It’s my own fault for expecting anything else. You can’t help yourself, can you? The very idea of someone below your station telling you ‘no’ is a challenge to do otherwise. I asked one thing of you. One. Everything else I offered happily, but you’re so stubborn that you do whatever pleases you without regard for anyone but yourself. You’re nothing more than an Omega without her heat. It’s actually perfect.” He spits. “You’re a princess past her prime who can’t clean or fuck. You’re useless to me.”

His word cut like a knife, taking the air from your chest. No one has spoken to you this way, not even your brothers in midst of some adolescent rage.

“Get your things. If you start walking now you can get to town before dark. Martha will let you stay with her.” He sneers.

“Please do not do this!” You shout, balling your fists at your sides. This has gone more wrong than you could have ever envisioned, but the truth is you should have known better, How could you think that touching something that means so much to him would have pleased him? Between the chickens and the tincture, you’re clearly not in tune with any part of his life.

“Now.” He commands coldly. His glare shifts from you to the sword as he stands with hands on his hips.

You scramble to collect what little you have and stuff it into a small sack, hesitating when you pick up the cloak before setting it back down. With shaking hands, you tie the rope securing your items and head for the door. With a hand on the frame you pause, without turning back you utter “I’m sorry.”

The tears start to the minute the door slams closed behind you. What a mess you’ve made. Sam is the only person you had left, and now you’ve managed to alienate him. It was only a matter of time, he’s been merely tolerating you since he took you in and instead of nurturing a better relationship you’ve made things worse at every turn.

Anger and defeat swelling in your chest, you set a brisk pace toward the village. The cold sinks into your bones as you try to move fast, you doubt it’s cold enough to freeze to death but it’s enough to make the journey miserable.

You should have never come here, never left France in the first place. Your brother was ill and if you’d stayed you might have been able to reason with him, get through to his more reasonable sensibilities. He was sick after all. What kind of sister are you? Abandoning her family when they need her most.

The root catches your foot, twisting your ankle and before you have time to call out you tumble to ground. You land on your knees, with a yelp and promptly fall back onto your backside. Drawing in a sharp breath you lift up your shirt and take stock of your now bloody knees, touching one tenderly and wincing.

You can do this, you tell yourself. Stop acting like a child, pull yourself together and stand up.

But when you try to stand your ankle gives way and you find yourself on the ground again.

You give up. A sob tears from your throat and you cry, defeated, in the dirt.  

Sam watches you silently, standing only a few steps behind with his mother’s cloak in his hand. You curse softly between howls, rocking back and forth. While you’re certainly ridiculous he wonders if he’s been harder on you than was necessary. You are, after all, alone in the world.

“What are you doing on the ground?” He asks softly. You jump at the sound of his voice, shoulders twitching in the moonlight.

“I fell.” You hiccup. “You’re right to send me away, Samuel. I’m nothing more than a useless, selfish burden.”

Sam kneels down beside you, covering you with the cloak. It’s a gesture that makes you cry even harder, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t say that,” he sighs.

“If you could just help me get to town I’ll be out of your way. I know you hate me and want to be rid of me, but I’m not sure I can make it to Martha’s on my own. I seem to have hurt my leg.”

Sam smiles to himself in the dark, bending down and scooping you into his arms without so much as a word.

It’s in this moment when you’re balling like a baby, that you admit your own feelings. You wish for nothing more than his arms around you in the night, holding you close and safe. You can imagine what it would be like to hear gentle terms of endearment whispered from his lips. When you really let yourself succumb to the fantasy it’s with visions of his weight on top of you, moving inside you and making you his.

And you know it will never be. Because a man such as Sam could never care for someone of your selfish desires.  

-

Tags: 

@smallgirlbigpersonality @mereka18 @gryffindorable713 @trainlikeawinchester @winchesterprincessbride @bamby0304 @saxxxology @notyourtypicalrose @mariekoukie6661 @little-big-mac2 @emoryhemsworth @mystriee @atc74 @holyfuckloueh @bunnybaby121115 @mogaruke @darkmystress00 @jaspesangriento @kazuha159 @mirandaaustin93 @crispychrissy @schilj79 @wilde-abandon @hennessy0274-blog @bojabee @miss-samantha-winchester @impalaimagining-mainblog @andkatiethings @astephez @ladycynthia @mrswhozeewhatsis @lenawiinchester @feelmyroarrrr @mrs-meghan-winchester @har-rystyles @mistressofallthingsgeeky @theamuz @maui137 @stars-and-seas @vale0413 @impala67trenchcoat @curly-haired-disaster @ericaprice2008 @livelikeawinchester @althehufflepuff @itsthesamegametoday @bohowitch @spnwoman @just-a-normal-eccentric @gallifreyansass @StoneyGGirl @lonely-skys @81mysteriouslyme @missrandomista @soupornatural @stars-and-seas @natura1phenomenon @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @81mysteriouslyme @likhelbentin @mrooks0205 @zombiewerewolfqueen @winchesterprincessbride @squirrel-moose-winchester @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @closetspngirl @dominodoll @rainflowermoon @cleighwrites @camelotandastronauts @imarockstar45  @thebeastinside19 @courtney-padalecki @itsthesamegametoday @virtualgirlfriendsan @daisymoder72 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @mysticmcu @luciferseclipse @malinda1997 @sunlight-dean @rockhoochie @collette04 @sandlee44 @ohnowin-chester @maddiepants @fandom-princess-forevermore

#Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader #alpha!sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #the woodsman

[peggysousfan]

Agent Carter An Au Series

Chapter 3! Its basically chapter 2 but from Daniels POV. Chapter 4 will be different I promise, I just wanted to explore his perspective a bit :)

Daniels POV: Thank God its the weekend and  I'm off of work for two days. I might actually be able to relax. Thompson and Krzeminski were complete ass hats all week, if not more than usual. I was able to get lunch with pai today, and then get some groceries for dinner.  I got as little as possible because walking up a flight of stair, with a crutch, and a hand full of groceries is a pain in the ass. What I wouldn't do to get an elevator in this building. As I get to my apartment door, I drop a bag.

"Dammit." Before I reach down to grab the bad, I hear footsteps. I look down the hall and see Mrs. Carter, my neighbor. She moved in the apartment across from mine 8 months ago. It wasn't until maybe 5 months when everyone started to notice she was pregnant. Not that she had any reason to tell anyone, but a lot of gossip was going around the building because of it. Rumor was that she was married or had a lover during the war and he died, so she never talked about the baby; that was, until it was too obvious to deny it. "Mrs. Carter?" As I said her name she looked slightly irritated, at least I think, it was on her face for a split second.

“It looks like you could some help with that,” she says.

“Oh no its fine.” I use my crutch for support as I grab the bag. This is slightly embarrassing... I try to not struggle so much, but its kind of hard when you're being watched. “Sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for Mr…uhm”

“Sousa. Daniel Sousa.” I reach out my hand and she shakes it. We've only met a couple of times, and spoken even less, but I can't help but get nervous around her. Shes a Brit, so a little closed off, confident, and beautiful.

“I’m terribly sorry Mr. Sousa, you must forgive me.”

“There nothing to forgive Mrs. Carter," I say. But as I say it, she looks slightly upset. I try to smile and make it less awkward.

"Well I ought to be on my way,” she says, attempting a small smile of her own.

“Of course. Have a nice day.” I smile again, and realizing I probably look like an idiot, smiling so damn much. When she closes her door I close my eyes and groan. I don't know whats true and whats not about her. All I do know, is that shes pregnant with another mans child, and its not mine. God what is wrong with me? I hardly know anything about her, but I know I want to know more. Like thats gonna happen.

I open my apartment and head to the kitchen to start dinner. I whole cod to myself is a lot, I hope I'll be able to eat all of this. As I wait for dinner to finish I hear a knock. Odd, I'm not expecting anyone. I grab my crutch and head to the door. When I open it I see my pregnant neighbor walking away. “Mrs. Carter?” She stops walking and freezes up, as if shes just been caught doing something she shouldn't. When she turns around I see she has a plate in her hand, of all things.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr. Sousa, I was just being silly.” Her cheeks start to turn red, and shes avoiding eye contact. Okay.. still weird...

“Uh.. did you need something?” I ask, maybe somethings happened or she needs something? I have no idea. Thats a lie I do, but I'm not exactly sure what to do about it.

“No.. I uhm..” She stutters and shuffles her feet around nervously. “Well…no. I uhm… I’m sorry to bother you.”

“You sure..?” I ask. I swear I'm having deja vu. She smiles awkwardly and starts to explain.

“Its just.. well whatever you’ve made smells delightful..”

“You want some of my food?” I can't believe this, well, actually I can.

“I hate to be a bother…” As she continues to repeat herself, all I can think about is my sisters and when they did things like this.

“I don’t mind at all. If anything it would be a big help.” I laugh.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose-”

“Its cod… It doesn’t exactly taste great reheated and eaten the next day.” As I say this she gives a small laugh and a bright smile.

“I concur.”

“Here, how about this. You come inside while its finishing up and you can have half.” Shes stands there as if debating her options, then looks down at her stomach.

“That sounds lovely.” I guess the baby is making the decision.

“Great.” I open the door and invite her in, when she sits down she makes a faint noise with her eyes closed, I look over to her and give out a small laugh.

“What?”

“Nothin’." I say. I turn my back to her to check on the food.

"There must be something thats keeping you amused.”

“Its just.. my sisters are the same way.”I explain. I turn back around and see shes furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. Its kind of cute. Stop. You can't think like that.“When they were.. uh.. you know.” Just spit it out! What is wrong with me?

“With child..?”

“Uhh, yeah. They’d sit or stand around and enjoy the smell of the food in the air. ” I see shes interested, so I keep going.  “They always made me cook or them, especially when they had cravings. I remember my older sister, she would call me at 3 in the morning, because her husband had night shifts, and she would call me and ask to get her whatever she wanted. Sometimes I’d have to bake or cook depending what it was. She’d sit down and just smell the air and pester me when it’d be done." At this I laugh, and she laughs with me.

“Well, it seems you are a very good brother,I don’t think my own would be so loyal and keen to meet my every need and craving if I asked." She laughs again and I'm in a trance. Which of course is interrupted by the timer. I get the food out of the oven and see her face has an odd expression.

“Its a Portuguese dish, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, of course not. I’ve never had Portuguese before, I must admit, but it smells delicious.” I smile at her and wonder about her bother. If she has one, where is he? Maybe back in England or something.

“So, wheres your brother now? I-If you don’t mind me asking that is.."I notice her eyes looks down and her mood changes slightly.

"Oh no its fine. My brother, Micheal.. He uhm.. died early in the war.” I notice she's starting to cry, great. Way to go idiot.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring something like that up, I-"

"Its alright, Mr. Sousa, I pray you don’t reproach yourself. " I nod my head. “Honestly it’s alright. I enjoy talking about him actually.”

“Yeah? What was he like?” As she goes on to talk about her brother, I start to serve the food. This feels so natural and right. Its like we've done this before. We both talk about our families and about the war. When we finish up dinner, She takes our plates and heads to the sink. “Uhh …You don’t have to do that you know. I can take care of it.”

“No, no, I all but invited myself over, its the least I can do.” Beautiful, confident, AND stubborn. I know better than to try and argue with a pregnant woman. For a few minutes it all quiet and I leave her alone. When i look over I see shes hunched over and in pain, much like my sisters were when they were in labor. I rush over as fast as I can with a crutch to check on her.

“Ar-Are you okay?… Sh-should I do something? Is it the baby? Do I need to call a-”

“No, no, Its not that.” Her breathing is hitched and her face is scrunched in pain. I want to reach out and touch her, but i don't want to over step. “It must be false contractions. Normally they go away, but.. they seem to be more insistent at the moment." She stops and breaths carefully. "I should probably head home, sleep it off…”

“Uh yeah sure, do you need anything?”

“No i’m quite fine. Thank you, Mr. Sousa.” She starts to walk across the hall when and I watch.

“Yeah, No problem.”  I hope she'll be okay, my sisters were, but thats different. I knew my boundaries, that and they're family. If they needed anything, I was always there. I know my neighbor is a completely different territory in that category, but she doesn't have a lot of people in her life, and I want her to know that I'd be there if she needed a friend. Thats if she'll have me. I hope I can speak with her again, maybe make an excuse to see her.

#peggysous #peggy carter #daniel sousa #Peggy x Daniel #agent carter #agent carter series #au fanfic #fanfiction

[sunnydwrites]

The Silk Parade

Part I — Wild Radiance

The cake was salty. Granted, salted caramel cakes were supposed to have a certain degree of salt — it was in the name, after all — but something was off. Natalia gave a tight-lipped smile to the people at her table and excused herself through the food in her mouth, taking her napkin with her.

She had always been told that the food at the biannual Silk Parade was the best in the nation. When the invitation arrived in the mail, she imagined a night full of dishes made by master chefs, accenting their steaks with flecks of gold or whatever it was they did to make food fancy. Only when she was sure nobody was watching did she spit her mouthful into the napkin, grimacing.

“Is everything all right, miss?” someone asked, but she did not look. Instead she nodded and hurried the other way until their hand was on her arm and she was forced to pay some attention.

Natalia forced a smile. “Wonderful,” she said. “Simply delectable.”

The attendant — still holding onto her arm — was resplendent in a dress that seemed to be made entirely out of living flowers and butterflies, and somehow the colors all blended with each other. She took a moment to look the whole thing over, immediately caught up once again in the wondrous aspect of fashion that came with this night. If she remembered correctly, this gala’s theme was “Wild Radiance”, and they captured it perfectly.

Each of the flowers seemed to be a different shade of soft orange or red, blooming and closing as if on their own cycles. The butterflies followed suit, creating a mesmerizing flow of wings and petals that were all somehow perfectly timed with each other.

It put Natalia’s own dress, a fiery orange garment that flared out with petals towards the bottom hem, to shame. She had previously loved the way the orange made her dark brown skin glow, but now the look seemed drab. Underwhelming.

“Excellent,” the attendant smiled. “May I take you on a tour of the kitchen? I’m sure your father would quite like to see our operation.”

“I’m sure he would,” Natalia said. “Too bad you get me instead.”

The attendant simply laughed, but the look in their eyes said it all. “Come this way.”

She followed the attendant across the dining hall, trying to pick out each and every design for the night. How many people would wear these again? How many would be simply tossed aside, shoved into a display case to be seen in mansion hallways decades later?

As they walked, she caught dresses and suits and headwear and jewelry and makeup and all sorts of different wonderful things in brilliant shades of purples and yellow and everything in between. None of them paid her any attention, but why would they? The famous reason she was here wasn’t even at the banquet.

“I think your father would be especially pleased to know that we used his recipes and his recipes only for tonight’s meal,” the attendant said, breaking through Natalia’s haze.

“Only… his recipes?” she asked, and the attendant nodded. “Including the salted caramel cake?”

“How could we exclude that?” they laughed. “It’s iconic.”

“Iconic indeed,” she hummed along, surveying the crowd. What were the chances that she could get back here at the next banquet?

They arrived at the kitchen doors and the attendant pushed them open, inviting Natalia to lead the way. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, but it wasn’t a large group of teenagers following recipes off the screens of their tablets. They wore plain gray aprons smeared with flour, batter, and various different sauces. They looked clueless and completely exhausted. Natalia raised an eyebrow and the attendant gave a nervous smile before clapping her hands to get the cooks’ attention. “Everyone, this is Natalia,” she said, making a grand gesture, “the daughter of Chef Mirialo.”

Everyone murmured and greeting and went back to their work, except for one worker. She watched Natalia with dark mono-lidded eyes, lifting her chin to meet Natalia’s gaze. The feeling sent shivers down her spine, the sudden feeling of being watched setting her nerves on edge.

“Looks like everything is in order here,” Natalia said, pretending for once to have a knowledge of cooking and how kitchens work.

“Fantastic,” the attendant beamed. “Let’s get you back to your table, then.”

“I actually need to run to the bathroom for a moment,” she said, then hurried away in the direction she was pretty sure was the bathroom.

It took a while, a couple of twists and turns and some run-ins with almost-acquaintances — as in people who somehow knew her father — but she got there. The din of the massive dining room was muffled behind the door and she took a deep breath walking to the mirror. Someone walked in behind her and directly into the nearest stall.

“Rough night?” she asked, and received no reply. “Yeah, we’ve all been there.” A whispering began and she assumed the girl had taken some sort of hallucinogen; apparently those were getting popular at parties now.

She leaned in closer to the mirror to check her hair, to make sure each of the gold and orange artificial lilies were in perfect position in her coarse black hair. Usually her father encouraged her to “tame” it, but tonight — as with every other occasion in his absence — she had let loose her hair and it now framed her face like a dark halo. Her shimmering gold lipstick seemed to be wearing off, but that wasn’t something she could fix.

Every detail became a point of focus as she tried to further procrastinate going out into the sea of people once again. Someone came out of the stall behind her and she offered a smile. “Keep some water—”

Then there was a knife at her throat.

Salted caramel cake was supposed to be a foolproof plan. The client had told her upon hire that it was a crowd favorite, a recipe invented by the chef’s daughter herself and perfected to a tee. She had dropped the poison in herself, insisted on serving the girl’s table. It should have gone without a hitch.

So why did Natalia Mirialo walk into the kitchen to observe the cooks work like everything was perfectly fine?

She called her underboss, who picked up on the fourth ring. “Who’s ringin’?”

“Who do ya fuckin’ think?” She paused, lowering her voice. “Something’s up. I put the poison in and she’s walkin’ like it’s nothing. Did you do me dirty?”

“I wouldn’t never do nothing like that,” the cronie on the other line stammered. “Who do ya take me for?”

A rat, she thought. “Then tell me why she’s breathin’.”

There was silence on the other line. “I—I don’t know,” he said.

“Gotta do everything for myself around here,” she growled. Before she hung up the phone, she added, “You’re paying for this once I get this contract settled.”

“Wait, boss—”

She hung up and drew the knife from its sheath inside the waistband of her pants. The Saint almost felt bad for this girl’s impending freeze until she remembered the mistakes of her imbecil father. You don’t cheat the Saint, and you sure as hell don’t get away with it.

This time she recognized the flaming orange of the girl’s dress, and she took a step forward. Another step and she placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, getting close enough to place a blade on her throat from behind.

“Don’t make this hard for me,” she warned.

The girl began to hyperventilate. The Saint watched as her chest rose and fell, faster and faster until—

“Are you gonna—”

“Kill ya? Unfortunately for you, that’s the plan,” she said, flicking a piece of dark hair out of her eyes.

“Why?”

“Ask your father when he makes his way up there with you.”

Her shoulders sag and a dangerous anger burns in her eyes before she hides it. “He made a deal, didn’t he? You’re with the mobs.”

“That’s a bit of an uncivilized term,” the Saint said, taking on a bit of the regality she had learned from these events. “We prefer organized ‘service’ — anyway, that’s not the point.” She pressed the blade a little harder and the girl whimpered.

“Why me?”

“He didn’t pay. Ever heard of ‘life for a life’?”

“That… sounds kind of illegal, actually.”

The Saint smiled a cruel smile, leaning forward and tilting her head. “Nothing’s legal around here, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.” She paused. “And if it’s really that important to you, he couldn’t come because he’s sick. Really sick.”

“What’re you saying?”

There was a pause and that same anger flashed in the girl’s eyes again. This time, she didn’t do as good of a job to mask it. “You could make it look like an accident.”

“You want to help me kill your father?” The Saint blinked. Of all the things she had experienced in this short lifetime, helping someone ice their own blood was not one of them.

She coughed, refusing to meet the Saint’s eyes. “I wouldn’t say help… I—I just don’t wanna die.”

The Saint sheathed her knife. “Where can I find him?”

“At my house. It’s—” the Saint held her hand up; she already knew the Mirialo address. What good boss didn’t?

“Just don’t walk in on the crime, and you won’t get caught up in it. Sound good?”

“How long should I wait?”

The Saint paused. “I’ll have to do some cleaning,” she murmured, “and then… Just attend every after party you can find.” The girl nodded. “Don’t get in my way.” She had no intention of cleaning up, really, but she would have preferred not to give a witness any more opportunity to sell her out.

She sheathed her blade again in an easy movement and walked back out into the party. It was easy to blend into the crowd as a serviceman — of a different kind — as she dialed the same number. It sent her immediately to voicemail and she made a mental note to talk to her subordinates about this. “Our contract has been changed a bit. Don’t bother calling, I’ve got this whole charade under control. We’re going after the man himself.”

Natalia’s heart pounded in her chest; even after the dark-haired girl from the kitchen disappeared, she couldn’t seem to get it back to a normal pace. With a shaky breath, she placed her hands on either side of the sink and leaned in towards the mirror. There was a light sheen of sweat on her deep tan skin, but nothing drastic enough to ruin the makeup on her face.

“Did I almost just—”

Someone walked into the room and she straightened up immediately.

“—ruin my makeup? Oh, stars, I hope not.”

Whoever walked in rushed over immediately, putting their hands on her face. I’ve never regretted saying anything more. She put her face close to Natalia’s, inspecting her makeup.

“No, darling, you’re fine,” she said after a while, releasing Natalia’s face. “I do admire the layer of gold in your eyeshadow, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Natalia said, jerking away before rushing back to the party.

The gala had continued on without her, and it was safe to say they were getting drunker by the moment. Someone latched onto her arm and she let them follow her for a moment before batting them away. The people at her table watched as she sat down, quieting down.

“What?” she asked, a numb feeling growing in her chest. Her father would die on this night.

There were a few shrugs and Natalia covered her lap with someone else’s dark red cloth. A slice of salted caramel chocolate with a single bite taken sat on her plate; knowing now what was inside, she shuddered and repressed her appetite. She couldn’t quite bring herself to partake in the festivities everyone else seemed to be enjoying. The easygoing comfort she had felt before was slowly replaced with a terrible cold feeling, one that started in her chest and spread out to the tips of her fingers.

She just signed her father’s life away.

A fleeting idea of her ability to save him ignited in her mind but she extinguished it just as quickly. If she got in that… that assassin’s way, she’d be putting her own life on the line as well.

Her father, the famous Dante Mirialo, would die tonight.

And she could do nothing to stop it.

Natalia found herself lost in a sea of bright colors, blooming dresses and suits themed after all sorts of colorful bugs and flowers. It was a spectacle, really, a once in a lifetime experience for someone like her. Someone offered her a dance.

She stood and pushed past them, ignoring the strange girl’s warning to stay out longer than usual. At the door, the grand entrance, a man in a plain black uniform — sleek but drab against the background of the crowd — stopped her.

He checked a list and handed her an envelope, but she didn’t dare open it yet. Instead she hailed a taxi and gave them her address; the driver tried to make small talk about her father’s wellbeing and the gala. She shut the speaking window and opened the envelope.

It was an invitation to the next Biannual Silk Parade. The paper was like a blade in her hands, but she didn’t dare let go.

She changed into her pajamas before calling the emergency line. She looked through his cracked door while she spoke the the operator. A pool of blood soaked into the carpet; certainly the girl had meant to be cleaner with Natalia’s death than with her father’s.

At least someone prioritized her over her father.

She looked down to the invitation in her hand. It was addressed to Natalia Mirialo, not to Dante. Not even an invitation to come in his place. No, this was all hers; she walked into her room with a soft smile and stayed there as the paramedics make their futile attempts to revive Dante.

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