#i absolutely will not put myself in a position where i have to surrender a dog

[sillygooseesquire]

I have spent the last month absolutely plagued by demons (ADHD impulses telling me to just go and adopt a dog even though it's not a good idea with my current living situation) and today I finally submitted an application to volunteer as a dog walker with the local humane society instead. Everybody say good job vyvansebaby

[therealvinelle]

You’ve been isekaid into the HP Universe when Voldemort has taken power. For some reason he wants you specifically to fix the government you can not refuse. How do you go about it? How hated are you?

(Anon might have been reading The Man Who Would Be King and its spinoff Harry Potter and the How Can You See Into My Eyes Like Open Doors, fics co-written by myself and @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin.)

Ah, but why did Voldemort give Alphard the keys to the kingdom in The Man Who Would Be King?

Voldemort isn't a man who wants to make the wizarding world better, to put the most competent man in charge so a brave new world might bloom. He wants destruction, if he didn't he wouldn't have chosen the bloody and hateful path that he did.

What changes in The Man Who Would Be King is, as he explains to Lily (and I see no better way to put this), character development. By the time the Ministry surrenders absolute power to him, he's no longer in the same place mentally as he was at the start of the fic, and his goals have shifted. When handed the keys to the kingdom he no longer wants to burn it all to the ground, which means he instead has to scramble for the most competent person he can think of to take the emeregency reins now that he's suddenly the head of government.

Alphard is his only option because he's a person Tom trusts and respects, as well as someone genuinely qualified after a lifetime spent in high Ministry positions.

For him to appoint me, it would have to be in the canon universe where Tom wants the world to burn, and he would want me to fail. My appointment, as a Muggle woman with no right to govern wizards, would be a pointed mockery of everyone and I imagine it only takes place once the wizarding world is so crippled even his Death Eaters can't raise a fuss about my appointment.

I would try to minimize the damage to people to the best of my ability, fail because I would wield no actual power, and my memory would be cursed by generations to come.

[makingspiritualityreal]

The South Node - An Area of Unfair Sacrifice

The Nodes are where we pay an unfair price for a necessary exchange. It is where we offer an area of a given house in order to have any life progress and growth at all in the area of the opposite.

It takes a human incarnation years to redefine and correct the areas of the South Node, as early in life it is karmically out of our control. So we need to give up on this area in its traditional form, knowing it will never function in a way that is beneficial to us. That becomes particularly painful when there is a planet conjunct the South Node. These areas of life produce a feeling of lack, but it is a sacrifice necessary in order for one to be able to grow in the area of the North Node.

As much as the Nodes are both unstable in their own right, the North Node being friendly to Saturn, offers a stable, reliable progress over time, with effort, maturity and reflection put into it, mixed with its cutting edge, out of the box, freedom oriented mindset. The North Node inspires us to actually set a goal.

The South Node causes so much pain, because the South Node and Saturn are enemies. Saturn is strict, but fair. Saturn is an Earthly life regulator of being given the right opportunities. Saturn offers measurable steps, solutions and rewards, even if it comes with timidness and obstacles. The South Node is the sum total of our karma, that reaches down to past lives, and thus it is responsible for wreaking havoc on our lives in ways that are beyond logical, rational fixing. It requires a completely meditative, surrendered attitude. In extreme cases, it requires one to completely move away from the given planet/house area, or only do the absolute minimum if necessary for survival.

The South Node requires of us to achieve a level of Monkhood, even if on a small scale. Early in life, as we are unexperienced in dealing with that energy, we end up being taken advantage of, and we give ourselves away. A mature South Node instead isolates from all unwanted stimuli, not really taken excessively for oneself, but also setting healthy boundaries through distance. We can actually have gains from the South Node our whole lives, if we don't try to control them or approach them too much.

Only as we mature into our 40s, the Karma of the South Node lets up, giving us exactly what we needed, even if in minimal form, perfectly tailored to our needs. To give you a more tangible example of how the Karma of the South Node works, somebody with their South Node in the 7th house may have an impossible time finding a good life partner on a personal ground. They may have successful, working business relationships from a degree of distance. They may have long-distance online romances. Since their life karma wants them to focus on individuality, self discovery, self expression and independence, the North Node in the 1st house may inflate their ego. That is actually a positive phenomenon with this alignment. The native may find, that the more full of themselves they are, the more they invest in their own brand, the more they attract successful working partnerships. Nevertheless, true intimacy mixed with acceptance of the person's basic identity, remains out of reach.

As a result, this native gives up on their deep desire for a successful, intimate partnership. They adopt a mentality of "This is who I am, and I am going to be myself and express myself to the fullest, and I am not compromising anything for that. Anyone who approaches me, if they want to be close, must accept that, as I fully delve into discovering my individual self every day". Ironically, it is that attitude of complete self acceptance, that solidifies the person's character and teaches them not to compromise. Then, when the South Node karma lets up at its own designated time, sometime after 42, just as the native has completely surrendered to such a lifestyle and given up on one's desire even if deep down they hold it in their heart, they unexpectedly meet their perfect match. They receive exactly what they have been missing all along, after they have completely reinvented themselves.

The concept of unfairness related to the South Node comes from the fact, that prior to that time, the desire of the South Node house and any planet conjunct it, remains emotionally dissatisfying. Any time the native tries to pursue the matters of that house outright, especially on a more sensitive level, they will be denied. There will be no fairness, even with a delay as Saturn would want, no equal payback, no "rightness", only strife, that ensures the native is pushed back towards their North Node.

The difference in South Node functionality and planetary alignment in between charts is in the fact, that as much as it denies emotional satisfaction, a strong South Node is actually a stable support system. Using the example above, the person with South Node in the 7th house, if well functioning, will actually attract an array of partnerships to help them construct their own brand. They will always have somebody available. They may even be the kind, who marry exclusively for status and name, and agree to a level of distance in the marriage in order to advance themselves on a personal level. The other significator of South Node karma is how fast it lets up. The Nodal release starts according to Vedic classics at the age of 42, but a stronger holding, more karmic South Node will delay that progress into the native's 50s and beyond.

The best functioning South Node is one, that fully, naturally, embraces detachment early on in life and doesn't look back. Often, a strong North Node helps, as it gives one a measurable goal to strive for. A struggling South Node is extremely stuck in the past, which manifests as passing up opportunities when they appear, out of a desire to remain within one's comfort zone, being avoidant of the North Node.

Another, more unorthodox form of the South Node, is the aforementioned concept of monkhood. These are people, who embrace servile roles, completely ridding themselves of any earthly desire, choosing an ascetic life with no reward. That may be a necessity one is forced into due to extremely heavy past life karmas.

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475

A/N: sexual content. Sorry the chapter is lengthy lol.

Even though I was glad that Noah convinced me to see the guys last night, getting up this morning absolutely sucked. I stayed up much longer than I should have, and I was exceptionally fatigued rolling out of bed because of it, but it was worth it. It had been a long time since I've laughed as hard as I had.

I really need it, and it made me realize how much I missed them. It's been what? Two or three months? And they still welcomed me in with open arms, Folio especially, literally picking me up and spinning me around.

That dumbass. I swear his goal in life is to give Noah a brain aneurysm, always getting a rise out of him from his actions, even though it was all in good fun.

I chuckled to myself at the thought as I continued making my way around the bakery, tallying what items were in stock and making notes of what needed to be ordered. Both the flour and sugar were getting low, and I dreaded lifting each 50 lb bag to refill the bins, but it had to be done. With a huff, I put my checklist on the counter and squatted down, positioning the bag in a way it would be easiest for me to lift.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" "Jesus fucking Christ!" I about jumped out of my skin hearing Noah's disapproving voice cut through the silence. Straightening up, I placed a hand over my erratic heart and turned to see him standing there with his arms folded over his chest. "No, it's your husband, Noah," he deadpans. I rolled my eyes. "Ha ha, very funny," I puffed out a breath, combing a hand through my bangs. "Seriously though, what are you doing here?"

A smirk breaks through his unusual scowl as he uncrosses his arms and closes the gap between us. "Stopping you from doing what you're not supposed to be doing," he scolds playfully before squatting and lifting the bag of flour with ease. "You know you're not supposed to lift more than 20 pounds, Liv." "It was only for a second—" "I don't care," he laughs incredulously. "Doc said no heavy lifting, so no heavy lifting. Where's this going?" I sighed, motioning my hand towards the bin behind him. "You probably shouldn't be either," I grumbled.

He lays the bag over the bin, shooting me a pointed look. I put my hands up in surrender, knowing the next words out of his mouth were going to be something about how he's not carrying a tiny human, and stepped around him to retrieve a knife. I hand it over to him and he quickly cuts open the bag and empties the contents, crumpling it before tossing it in the trash. He then moves onto the next bag.

"Thank you," I say once he's finished. "I'm sorry, I'm just used to doing this by myself." He gives me a light smile, brushing my bangs back before kissing my forehead. "I know, love, I know. But you gotta let me help you, especially now." I slip my arms around his torso and look up at him with a bashful smile, a blush crawling over my cheeks. "I know. I didn't want to bother you, with your breathing and all." He shakes his head, disregarding me. "Don't. I know my limits, and I'm more than happy to help." He cups my cheek, delicately running his thumb across my still-flushed skin. "Let's finish this up and head back home to relax." "I'm here until noon, though."

He places both hands on my hips and scrunches his mouth to the side, mulling over my statement. "Okay, so we finish this, you finish your shift, and I'll have lunch ready for you. Anything you want. Then we'll relax. How's that sound?" His thumb slides under my shirt and delicately rubs against my side, causing me to wriggle in his grasp from the sensation. "Sounds like a date," I giggled. His dark eyes glistened, crinkling in the outer corners as he smiles at my words, and my heart flutters at the sight. "It's a date," he reiterates, giving my hips a light squeeze. I stand on my toes and give him a quick kiss before returning to the task on hand, trying to fight the warmth swirling in my stomach and the giddy smile from spreading across my face.

Though I hadn't been expecting his help today, I was more than grateful for it as he took care of the freezer, which also involved some heavy lifting. However, my heart sank with concern when he emerged from the walk-in; he was having a full-blown coughing fit, having to brace himself over the 3-base sink. And as usual, he insisted he was fine, but with a heavy eye roll I forced him to sit down and catch his breath while I brewed him a cup of tea.

He took the steaming cup with a sheepish smile, holding it up to his nose and breathing deep. "Thanks, love," he exhales, taking a hesitant sip. He winces when he burns his tongue, swallowing harshly. "Watch out, it's hot," I tease with a wink. "Why don't you head on home after you finish that? We're about done with inventory, and Juliana and Holly will be here any minute now to set up shop." "You sure you don't need anything else from me?" he questions, running a comforting hand down my arm and taking hold of my hand with a squeeze. I squeezed his hand in return with a polite shake of my head, just as the girls make their way in.

"Morning, Liv!" Jules chimes, stopping short when she sees I'm not alone. "Oh, and good morning to you, too, Noah." She grins and puts her belongings on a hook, walking by us to preheat the oven. "Wasn't expecting to see you here. How've you been?" "Not so bad, just helping Liv with inventory. She's a little sluggish this morning," he muses, winking at me, which earns him a light smack on his shoulder from me. "How are you? And Holly?" He leans forward to peer behind me.

Holly quietly greets us, hanging her things up and slipping her apron on, immediately engaging into work mode.

"Don't mind her, she's not a morning person, as ironic as it is for someone who works at a bakery. Especially on inventory day," Juliana murmurs when Noah quirks an eyebrow. "Anyway, I'm good. Keeping busy here." She pulls the muffin trays from under the oven, setting them on the counter with a loud clatter. "You wanna help with some baking?" she jokes. "I already did," Noah says quiet enough so that only I could hear, wagging his brows at me before glancing down at my belly. He snickers when I once again hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Actually, he was just leaving," I answered for him, pulling him to his feet. "But I haven't finished my tea," he feigns a whine, only to laugh when I shot daggers at him. "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'll see you at home for lunch. Be good." My cheeks burn hot, hoping they wouldn't question what he meant by 'be good'. "Noah," I hiss his name, beginning to push him towards the exit. "That's enough out of you." He snorts, finally walking towards the back door with me in tow. "What? I just want you to have a good day, that's all." There's a tone in his voice, and I know he's trying not to laugh.

I fold my arms over my chest when we're out of sight, glowering at him, unamused. "Not funny. You know I don't want anyone to know yet." "Relax, they're not gonna know you're pregnant just because I told you to be good," he rolls his eyes. "Anyways," he sighs, "I'll see you at home. Relax and try to have a good day, okay?" I mutter a quick 'okay', and he flashes me a small smile after kissing me goodbye.

When I returned to the kitchen, Juliana was working away at getting the muffins baked, pouring the batter that Holly had prepared into the tins. She glances up at me when she senses my presence and smirks—my stomach churns uncomfortably. She knows.

She doesn't say anything though, just carries on with baking, that devious curl never leaving her lips, and I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. I shake my head at myself and take a deep breath, picking up the checklist, hoping to settle my nerves by distracting myself with finishing inventory.

"It's nice to see you happy," Juliana says as I hear her open the oven doors, the whoosh of the fans blowing out a gust of heat. "Hm?" I quirk a brow, peeling my eyes away from my list. My heart jumps to my throat when I see that smug grin on her face again. "I said it's nice to see you happy. It's been a while since I've seen you smile like that." She states, placing one of the muffin tins on a rack. I furrow my brows. "Like what?" "He teases you and you get flustered, then you have this goofy smile on your face that I know you're trying to hide. It's cute; you guys are cute."

Scarlet crosses over my cheeks once again and I breathe out a quick 'Oh'—that's what that smirk was about earlier.

"Like that," she laughs, putting the last muffin tin in and shutting the oven doors. I hadn't even noticed I had been grinning at her words. "Yeah, well..." Clearing my throat, I avert my eyes to my checklist with a bashful chuckle. "Honestly, things weren't great between me and Noah for a while there, and I thought I lost him." I admit, having never told the girls why I hadn't been quite myself the last few months. "Recently, things have been getting better, and as silly as it sounds, I feel like I'm crushing on my husband all over again." "It's not silly, Liv." She turns to me after setting the timer on the oven, a genuine smile on her face. "It's a good thing. Whatever you thought you had lost was never really lost, it just got a little buried. You just had to do some digging, is all."

There's a warmth that swirls in my stomach, and spreads to my chest as I think about how much things have turned around as of late; how much effort Noah has put into mending what had been damaged.

I pushed him away, and I was the reason he developed that godforsaken disease, yet he still came running to my side when I needed him—after a fucking month of not speaking to one another. He was suffering, barely able to breathe, but he still did what he could to support me no matter how hard it was for him.

Coming to my appointments, running to the store to get me necessities when I asked him not to, showing up here at the bakery to make sure I wasn't doing anything over strenuous, and helping me because he knew that I would.

Now, every time I lay eyes on him, there's this pang of remorse knowing what I've been putting him through—but it always gets swarmed and consumed by the butterflies coming to life inside of me as soon as I see that grin on his face. His dark irises seem to light up with adoration as he smiles down at me, and I swear there's a surge of electricity between us whenever he places a gentle hand on me.

This was how it was when this all began; we're so close to getting back to what we were—I can almost taste it.

-

Rushing through the front door due to the unexpected rain, I cursed at myself for not having at least a hooded jacket for my walk home from the bakery. That, and never thinking to check the damn weather before going into work.

With a huff, I placed my belongings down just as Noah makes his way around the corner to meet me at the entryway. "What happened to you?" he chuckles, turning to head down the hall and returning with a towel. "I didn't know it was supposed to rain," I whined, starting to walk towards our bedroom and stopping when I took note of the living room.

The sectional was set up in a way where we could comfortably lie down with the back and armrests bordering us, a large blanket fanned out over the cushions. The lights were set low, the LEDs casting an amber glow against the far wall behind the TV—which was displaying a view of a sunrise at the beach, turquoise waves slowly rolling over the sand and back.

Noah drapes the towel over my shoulders and I turn towards him as he wraps it over the front of me. I take hold of it and clutch it to my chest, smiling up at him. "What is all this?" He shrugs, fighting back a proud smile while rubbing my upper arms to spread some warmth across my chilled skin. "Well, I wanted to take you down to the beach but as you can see, it's raining." He humors with a light laugh, and I roll my eyes. "So, I did what I could to bring the beach to you."

My heart swells at the thoughtfulness, tears immediately springing to my eyes. "You're too much," I say as my lips tremble, and he doesn't waste a second to stop them by kissing me. I melt into him, warmth radiating through my whole body as our lips sync together, practically leaving me breathless. We break apart slightly, our mouths open, both of us breathing in to get an ample amount of air before crashing together again.

I can taste the salt from my tears against his lips while his hand cups my cheek, brushing them away with his thumb. He smiles into our kiss, a chuckle vibrating against my lips. "Stop crying," he whispers. I giggle and pull away, sniffling while wiping the remaining tears away. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting this." "All I did was move the couch and put a YouTube video of the ocean up," he laughs. "It's really not all that much." "Maybe to you, but you know the sunrise holds a special meaning to me."

He brandishes a gentle smile, eyelids hooded as he stares down at me with candor heavy in his eyes. "I know," he runs a hand down the length of my damp hair. "Let's get you changed into some dry clothes and have some lunch. I had sushi delivered right before you got home—" "I can't have sushi, Noah," I frowned. "Raw sushi. I did a little research; everything I got is cooked and low in mercury content." I sighed, grinning. "You are the best."

I trotted to our bedroom and stripped of my damp clothes, draping them over the side of the tub to dry, and stepped into some sweats and one of Noah's hoodies. Knowing my hair would dry in a frizzy mess, I quickly blow-dried it before meeting him back in the living room where he set the sushi and an arrangement of snacks out on the coffee table.

We each grabbed a plate and a pair of chopsticks, choosing what we wanted before settling onto the sectional, sitting with our legs folded in. There was a comfortable silence between us as we ate, the only sounds being the gentle waves and the occasional call of a seagull playing through the surround sound.

I finished my plate first and put it off to the side, resting my head against Noah's shoulder with a smile of contentment. He finishes his food shortly after and wrapped his arm over my shoulders, hugging me close to him. We instinctively unfold our legs and lay back; my head was now on his chest, my leg and arm draped over his body as I snuggled up close to the heat radiating from him.

My eyes flutter shut as he rubs my shoulder, and I couldn't help the grin from spreading across my face. I haven't felt so comfortable, so peaceful and at home, so...complete in far too long, and I owed it all to Noah.

As I laid here in his arms, listening to the calming sounds of the ocean and his deep breathing, I was brought back to the very first time I saw the sunrise. Hues of pink, orange, and yellow erupting from the horizon of cobalt, cascading skyward into baby blue. So beautiful, so mesmerizing, and I knew it would be devastating if I couldn't witness it anymore.

I picked my head up from Noah's shoulder, gazing at the peaceful expression on his face—eyes closed, his lips curled in the tiniest smile as he ever-so-slightly moved his head side to side, most likely to a tune in his head. His expression changes, turning to that of surprise when the next three words flew out of my mouth: "I love you."

He slowly opens his eyes, chocolate irises locking with my blues while his lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. He reaches out and delicately trails his fingertips down my face and to my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. He still doesn't say anything, just caresses my face as if he expected me to dissolve into thin air at any second.

"What?" I whispered, my stomach churning anxiously. He shakes his head lightly, and my nerves melt away when I watched a smile break across his face. "I just... I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that again." "Oh," I mumbled with shame, dropping my gaze from him. He shifts so he's on his side now, and picks my head up by my chin. "I love you too, Olivia." I can see the tears glossing over his eyes, but he blinks them away and crashes his lips to mine. "So much," he says against them, never fully breaking our kiss.

Desire quickly flares inside of me; he suddenly wasn't close enough. I fist his shirt and roll onto my back, pulling him down with me as one of my legs settle over his hip. Our teeth clack together, and he pulls away slightly to laugh. "Guess these pregnancy hormones give you super strength, huh?" I breathed out a laugh. "I guess so. Now shut up and kiss me." He shakes his head with a snort, "Yes, ma'am."

I lace my fingers into his hair as we reconnect, holding him close to me, and in that moment, I'm flooded in all the ways I missed him. I felt starved. As if he could sense it, his tongue lashes out, gliding against my bottom lip, and I meet his with mine—tongues twisting and turning, relishing the familiarity of each other that we both had been longing for.

He ground his hips into me, and I can feel his growing erection through my sweats, pressing against my inner thigh. Heat begins to pool low within me, just thinking about the way his cock would feel gradually filling me, stretching me in the way my body so desperately needed.

More. I needed more.

He groans when I give his hair a light tug and roll my hips up towards him, wanting to satisfy the dull ache between my legs. I do it again when he doesn't quite get the hint; this time he moves, and a chill runs down my spine when his lips reach my jaw, the stubble that he had growing in rubbing against my skin. He peppers my neck with feather-light kisses, his teeth grazing along the way, and stopping to nip right below my ear. His breath cascades across my neck in a quiet laugh when he hears the mewl I let out.

"Is this what you want, love?" His voice was so low, I almost moaned simply from the seduction laced in his tone. "Yes," I whispered, clawing my nails against his scalp once more. He hums, slipping his large hand underneath the hoodie I was wearing and trailing his fingertips up my side. My skin prickles and my nipples harden just before he palms my breast, rolling his thumb over the pert bud. "No bra?" "They're sore; figured I'd be staying in, so why wear one?" "Makes sense," he concurs, running the tip of his nose up the side of my neck and to my jaw, promptly giving me a quick kiss. "Maybe I can help with that?"

His dark eyes glimmer with lust, and there's a smirk spreading across his lips that makes my core throb, wishing his face were between my legs instead. All I do is nod, both of us shifting to remove my top. He throws it behind the couch before he cups my breasts with hesitancy, delicately kneading the tender area, waiting to see if I'll stop him. I allow him to massage them for a brief moment, but he stops when he senses my discomfort. They were just too sore right now.

He whispers an apology, laying gentle kisses on the swell of my breasts before making his way down my belly. My stomach swirls with arousal and my chest heaves, anticipating his touch; all I could do was stare down at him as he halts at my waistband, peering up at me with hunger. His fingers grasp the top of my sweats, eyes begging me for access as he reluctantly waits for the go-ahead.

I lift my hips and assist him with shimmying my bottoms down my legs; he takes his time removing them, palming my right thigh with a firm squeeze. He continues caressing down my leg with both his hands and lips before doing the same to my left. "No panties either?" he muses while still holding my leg and places a kiss to the inside of my ankle. I bite my lip with a giggle, shaking my head 'no'. "Just the way I like it," he winks, beginning to trail his lips up my calf.

The further up my leg he went, the more he lowered himself against the couch until he was nearly flat, face level with the apex of my thighs. I see the hunger in his eyes when they flicker to my slick folds and back up, a smirk tugging at his mouth. He doesn't break eye contact as he slowly lowers his face down and teases me by kissing over my mound, up and across to each hip bone, and settling his mouth against my tiny bump.

"You're so beautiful, in every way,” he whispers, kissing my belly again. "Every bit of you. Your smile, your laugh." Kiss. "Your bubbly personality." Kiss. "Your soft skin, your growing bump." Kiss. "The way you say my name. The sounds you make." Kiss. "And even the way you taste," he licks his lips, and I clench around nothing, dying for him to touch me. "Noah," I breathed out. "Please." "Mmm, like that," he hums, placing his hands on the back of my thighs, holding me to him as he finally reaches where I needed him to be.

I take a sharp breath in when he licks a stripe through my folds, my hips bucking forward when his tongue lands on my clit. He hums—I can’t tell if it was in amusement of my reactions, or a groan of satisfaction as he damn near devours me like this was his last meal on earth—and the vibration coasts through my core, forcing a moan out of me.

I fist his hair; his fingertips dig into my thighs as he groans again, his tongue methodically running through my folds. He was so meticulous with his actions, knowing the way my body would respond to each and every flick of his tongue, and he had me chasing that high. My hips roll towards his face, and he takes my clit into his mouth, my stomach tightening as he sucks.

My senses are so heightened, I come undone within seconds, stars shooting behind my eyelids as I squeeze them shut and moan out his name. My body trembles and my back arches, my nails dig deeper into his scalp as his tongue relentlessly pulls me through my climax.

“Wow, I didn’t even need to use my fingers,” he muses with a smirk plastered on his face, his lips glistening with my slick. I try to think of a witty comeback, but I can’t. All I can do is shake my head at him, focusing on coming back down to earth, and trying to regain the breath he knocked out of me.

He clambers on top of me, and my hands instinctively find their way under the back of his shirt as he plants his mouth on mine in a heated kiss—I can taste myself when I take hold of his bottom lip with my teeth. He moans and I chuckle, now scratching my nails down his toned back.

“Christ, Olivia,” he mumbles, pulling away to look down at me; his breathing is labored, his lips now plump. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” “I don’t?” I quirked an eyebrow, digging my nails further into his back. His muscles flex under my fingertips, and I giggle when he bites back a groan as his dick twitches against my leg. He shakes his head incredulously, his dark bangs shifting and blanketing his face. “Maybe you do.” “Maybe I do,” I shrug, watching his eyes grow dark with desire. “I want to fuck you so badly, Olivia,” he growls. “Then do it,” I say, removing my hands from under his shirt.

He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, and tosses it to the floor. I watch his chest heave as his hands clumsily unfasten his belt and unzip his fly—was he nervous, or overly eager? He slowly pulls his jeans down, along with his boxers, and his cock springs loose, slapping against his belly. He takes hold of himself, gliding his hand up his shaft, and I swear my mouth watered when I saw the precum glistening as he rolled his palm over the tip, spreading it back down his length.

Christ, Olivia. What has gotten into you?

He settles himself between my legs but hesitates, his eyes searching mine as he places a delicate hand on my cheek. He swallows harshly, “I don’t… am I going to hurt you or—” I giggled at his concern. “You’re not gonna hurt me or the baby, I promise,” I reassured him, combing his bangs back with my hand and giving his head a light scratch. “Are you sure?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure. The baby’s not gonna come out with a dent in its head from your dick, Noah,” I chuckled. “What if—” “So help me God, Noah, if you don’t put your dick in me in the next ten seconds, you’re gonna have a dent in your head.” I hooked my leg over his hip, hoping to urge him on. He shakes his head and laughs lightly. “So assertive.”

In one swift movement, he slowly enters me, and we both moan out in unison. He rests his forehead against my collarbone, a staggering breath caressing my skin as he rolls his hips away. “Fuck,” he sighs, “I almost forgot how good you feel.” My hands smooth up his back, one hand tangling into his hair, and he picks his head up to look at me with a sheepish grin. “Me too,” I breathed a laugh, pushing my hips towards him. “Keep going. Please.” “As you wish.” He ruts his hips into me, an impish smile on his face. He was still hesitant; I could tell with each attentive thrust into me, and as good as it felt, I needed more.

My heel presses into the small of his back, and I began to run my nails against his tattooed skin. His eyes flutter shut, a light moan slipping past his lips as he continued his languid pace. “Noah,” he looks at me when I say his name. “Don’t hold back. Show me what you forgot, show me how much you missed me.” He chuckles, and it’s like a switch flipped inside of his head, his eyes burning into mine with a sudden darkness. “Fuck, Olivia. You’re really going to be the death of me.”

I don’t have time to say anything or even laugh; his lips are on mine in an instant, his hips snapping into mine with fervor. My fingers tighten, digging into him further as a moan escapes me, and he takes that to his advantage, shoving his tongue in my mouth. Our kiss was sloppy, influenced by desire, hunger, need. But I didn’t care, everything in this moment felt so right, so satisfying as his cock hit me in all the right ways. My body was buzzing with euphoria as I drank him in and savored the feeling of him encasing me, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He suddenly pulls away from me, and I whimper from the emptiness. With a growl, he sits up and repositions me with my legs resting on his shoulders. I cry out when he thrusts back into me, hitting me at a different angle that would undeniably tip me over the edge. My back arches when there’s pressure on my clit—it took me a second to realize his thumb was rubbing against me.

Sweat was beading across his forehead as his eyes locked with mine, and the fire burning behind his irises was my downfall. My walls clenched around his length, and I swear I was levitating as my chest rose under his control, my body quaking while he coaxed the orgasm out of me.

My legs slip off his shoulders, and once again he repositions me so that I’m on his lap. He holds me close to him, his large hand supporting me at the small of my back as he continues to thrust deep inside of me. I can’t move; my head lols back and I feel his lips against my throat, peppering sloppy kisses until he bites down below my jaw. His moan vibrates down my jugular, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he pants through his nose.

He gently lies me back down against the couch, his body collapsing on top of mine while he slips out of me. We're panting together in fucked out bliss and my hands find his hair again, raking my fingers through his sweat stained locks. He hums, pressing a kiss on my collarbone before rolling off me. He scoops me on top of him, my leg settling over his torso and my hand lands on his cheek. I run my thumb over his flushed skin and he once again hums and presses a kiss into my hair.

“Did we just have sex on the beach?” I mumbled, a tiny grin on my face. He snorts, and I know he’s shaking his head at me without having to look at him. “If that’s what you want to believe, then sure, love.” I giggled, picking my head up to look at him. He looks at me with adoration, a tired smile gracing his lips as he ran his hand through my hair. “You’re cute. Lie back down, let’s take a nap. It’s been a long morning.” I do as he says after giving him a kiss, settling against his chest.

His chest rising and falling slowly relaxes me, and I notice one thing as his steady heartbeat begins to lull me to sleep: he wasn’t wheezing. Not even in the slightest.

|Chapter 20|

[itsnothingofinterest]

So, overall thoughts on 393 & predictions for 394:

I really liked 393 for the most part. I do have one gripe/concern with the current situation (and I’m gonna talk a lot more about that than anything else; that’s just how the internet is sometimes); but overall I really liked a lot of what this chapter did.

First off, the flashback to the League; the camaraderie, the stupid jokes, Dabi being a pretentious jerk who thinks these people aren’t his friends when they totally are. It’s all just *chef’s kiss* perfect, no notes. Other’s have gushed enough for this scene and analyzed all the interesting things it says about these characters so I’ll just add:

“Dudes...Being Dudes!” Can’t believe I didn't see that until now.

But moving on from the “dudes”: Uraraka has earned my praise for having done easily the best to reach out to her villain of any hero kid in the entire arc; not least of which because she’s the only one having any back and forth, and because she seems to be genuinely trying to help Toga. Uraraka’s position isn’t quite perfect, still room to improve for reasons we’ll get too; but she has by far done the best at talking to her villain out of the entire class thus far. Her blood offering™ especially is really big for Toga.

Although, briefly moving on to predictions for the next chapter: my hottest take of a theory is that...I’m honestly not sure how Toga will take Uraraka’s offer. Because having someone in her life who understands her and is willing to offer her blood was, once upon a time, everything Toga ever wanted. But now there’s a bigger question on her mind that Uraraka hasn’t really answered properly yet. 

What will she do with Toga? What will happen to Toga if she goes along with whatever Uraraka wants her to do now?

This is basically my biggest and only remaining concern for this plot-line: Toga still absolutely believes she’ll be sent to death row if she’s captured, and her prospects genuinely don’t look good from an objective view. And when Toga brings this up, Uraraka…doesn’t really go against her claim. I mean she makes clear she doesn’t want to murder Toga like Hawks did Jin; but her still going to death row seems a part “the obvious truth for both of [them]” and she “can’t wipe [Toga’s] slate clean”. So what will/can she do for Toga’s very real fear for her life?

It's possible Uraraka doesn’t have any good answer for that. I know some readers are interpreting the dialogue to think she does, that she’ll keep Toga from going to prison if Toga gives up; but putting myself in Toga’s shoes, it doesn’t sound like she’s willing or ready to go against the legal grain like that. And if she doesn’t then, for as much as she’d like that lifetime’s worth of blood, Toga may not give up here if she thinks her lifetime will be a few weeks that way. Heartbreaking as that’d be for her. (Which makes the drama queen in me consider this outcome even more.)

And also just in general, when the Todoroki’s fumbled saving Dabi as bad as they did; I can’t help but doubt Ochako’s chances of fully reaching to Toga in turn just a little.

Although…all that being said; Uraraka’s specific terms on the blood offering™ aren’t for Toga’s surrender. That’s just all of us reading between the lines, and maybe even jumping the gun. Ochako is asking to talk about love, so there may be a twist to expectations there where Toga still fulfills her end of the bargain without just giving up the fight for her life in exchange for blood.

What might come from that I can’t say. Well besides maybe discussing Uraraka’s feelings for Deku but I don’t know anything interesting that’d come from that. Although, maybe it’ll come back around to Toga’s fear for her life if she brings up her loved one, Twice, getting killed by a hero and who Toga is trying to avenge. And maybe this’ll get Uraraka to contemplate the kind of double standard she & her side have been applying to which actions warrant consequences. I mean if Hawks & Endeavor got off scot-free for their wrong doings (not to mention the currently ongoing Operation: Kill Shigaraki); maybe being lenient with the League in turn would be fair. That’s one way I think their conversation could go anyway.

[empressofthewind]

Hello! I’ve been reading some of your meronia fanfictions and wanted to say you are an incredibly skilled storyteller and really make the characters feel true to their canon counterparts. Thank you so much for your absolutely amazing writing, you are a blessing in this fandom ❤️

There was a question I’ve been wondering about if you don’t mind. In a few of your AU Mello lives and begins working in partnership with Near fics, it’s mentioned that in the outcome of the Kira case Mello lost completely and Near was the winner.

I was curious in your AU what happened at the end of the Kira case that made it turn out this way?

And why do you position Mello as the full-out loser instead of something more similar to the OG canon where his skills and ability to see and contribute something Near couldn’t was the only reason Near won?

If you are willing to share I would love to know your thoughts! if not it's oc totally fine and understandable so feel free to ignore haha

Hello! First of all, thank you very much 🥺🫶 this is really really kind!! Second of all, this is an excellent question and you are perfectly welcome to ask - I'm always happy to answer questions about my fics :-)

My best answer to this is that the way I characterise the ending is highly dependent on the specific POV I'm writing from. I write all my fics in third person limited, which is structured in such a way that it gives a glimpse into the character's inner world. As a result, there's always bias in the way they perceive things. My interpretation of Near is that he's wired to view things as objectively as possible in most cases, so his narration is generally trustworthy. Mello's inner workings are a lot more chaotic, and I tend to write him as a fairly unreliable narrator. On that basis, the idea that he would have "lost" after the Kira case is entirely his perception. His goal was always to catch Kira and bring an end to the case with his own hands, as exemplified by the line "If you can do that, then I'll get Kira myself", which he says to Near in Chapter 79 (in reference to their interrogation of Mogi). At this point in the narrative he's directly working with Near, but he never thinks of it that way. He rationalises this as "using Near", and the competition as far as he's concerned is still alive and well.

He definitely has some character development by the end, but I don't think enough has changed for him to accept the idea of a joint victory. Rather, the development that happens is in him accepting the idea of losing. As much as I do think he kidnapped Takada with the intention of saving Near's life and ensuring Near's victory, I tend to assume he saw this as surrendering, not as a collaborative effort like Near does. I very strongly believe that if he had survived long enough to see the end of the case, he would have considered himself the loser. Ultimately, Near was the one in the warehouse, Near was the one who got to put Light in his place, and Near was the one who ended up with L's title. To Mello, that's more than enough to constitute a loss.

I hope this answers your question!!!

[non-un-topo]

random ass questions about ur stories: ok I don’t remember the title but ur recent long fic that was like. the aftermath of losing quynh and they were on that island with the fun-shaped stone that Nicky found? if ur happy to share I’d LOVE to hear about like. what part of the story u came up with first. like what image/vibe/plot point etc stuck in ur head so much that u wrote a whole fic about it yk? I absolutely LOVED that fic and would love to know!! hope ur having a good day and also no pressure to respond 🫶💕

🥺🥺 Ohh friend, thank you!! I'm so glad you liked it, and I'm sending lots of love to you!! The fic in question is Axis! (you're gonna get me talking about this big baby of mine and I won't shut up lol, I'm shy but I've had a lot of caffeine and I'm excited) <33

So I actually went looking through my old docs, phone notes, and physical journals for the first idea I had of this fic after I read your ask, because I could not seem to remember?? From what I managed to dig up, it was based on vibes first. I have some journal notes on "aporia", a state of ambivalence, and liminal space. I think I started writing it in October last year, during a very weird time where my mental health was... not great. In short, and hopefully without oversharing, I thought I was having a psychotic break. Turned out it was likely the CBD capsules I was taking for my chronic pain, which had a psychoactive effect I hadn't anticipated (like 0.1mg of THC and somehow it was enough). Anyway, at that time I started writing a lot of garbled philosophical thoughts, and I'll share this one for you because I'm almost certain it's what inspired Axis: (also putting the rest of this under a read-more so I don't annoy anyone sdfghfd)

What is the present? I wonder, because the moment you put your attention on it, it becomes the past. It vanishes. We think about present moments, but they’re already gone. All that exists is this idea of ‘happening’: All that will happen, and all that has happened. Neither is tangible. Neither can be held or kept. In thinking about the future, we imagine possibilities. In thinking about the past, we revive in our minds what has already happened. The only present that exists is the imagination. The dream. That which removes us from our reality, from our position in time and space. Where exactly is that? Rather, where are our selves in that state? Do we linger? Do we go? And if so, where? How long is the length of a single present moment? Can our lives exist as this single thread, if we spend it in dream-state? Are we forever suspended, or do our recollections of the past, our imaginings of the future, tether us to something tangible after all?

Anyway, right below this is the first line from Axis: "It is wondrous how quickly things can change in a moment."

Besides vibes and themes (suspension, stasis, indecision, fear of being lost, grieving, surrendering to the will of nature, being a fixed point in a broken group, being tethered together or untethered, things happening in reverse, being upside-down, being consumed, yadda yadda), I think the first scenes that popped into my head as visuals before I got writing were 1) Nicolo standing in the valley and catching a flake of ash in the air. 2) Yusuf and/or Nicolo in a hot spring. 3) Larus' frozen lambs. 4) The argument between Andromache and Nicolo, but no dialogue yet.

I know I wanted to write something sort of dream-like, that dipped in and out of flashbacks and liminal states, and I'm genuinely proud of myself for seeing it through. The last school year I had was intense to say the least, and there was a long stretch of time where I just left this fic as one scene and a bunch of nonsensical notes. Then, being real transparent here, a couple different tragedies happened one right after the other, and I just opened the doc again. I think my nana dying slowly had a lot to do with the direction my writing took. Thoughts, feelings, general atmosphere from real life creeps into my writing every time, and often I don't even notice until the project is done and I've read it a few times.

Anyway, I'm WAY overselling this fic dfgfds. It just means a whole lot to me and I know you can tell, so I appreciate you asking about it <3 Hope you have a fantastic day. Sending love and hugs <333

A bonus angsty snippet that didn't make it into the final work, just for you <3

It happens like this sometimes: Yusuf begins. “What if we never found you?” “You did.” “But what if. Just humour me for a moment.” You do. You love this man, so you do. “I wasn’t fast enough, and you slipped. I didn’t grab you. I didn’t even pull you from the water.” “You know it is not your fault.” “Andi didn’t— you didn’t see. I tried to jump in after you—” “And you would have been lost, too.” “No, I would have gotten you back.” There is no way to prove this. Nothing is certain. It already happened. You’re going around in circles. Yusuf says again, in a whisper, “What if we never found you?” You’re finding it hard to speak. To say anything in this moment. Yusuf presses his hands over his mouth, but it does nothing to contain his stilted gasps. He presses his words against his palms, but you hear them clear as ice: “What if we never find her?”

[brittlebutch]

Whelp, the time has come: I’ve “finished” but I still wanna avoid the finale.

Ignoring the Thing and the aftermath of it—

(someone had a pacifier so everything turned out okay, nobody looked at Hawkeye sideways, and he went home to Peg and BJ right after the war, that’s the only version of canon I acknowledge. The alternative is too painful)

—what happened with everyone else? I wanna know, but I don’t think I could bear to risk watching it myself to find out even if I had timestamps.

—MASH!Anon

No sweat! I'll put it all under a cut for convenience, and I'll keep mentions of Hawkeye's plot to the absolute bare minimum

BJ briefly visits Hawkeye in the hospital, and seems to want to say something but doesn't. Later we find out that he got his orders home, presumably went to the hospital to say goodbye, but didn't, and just left instead. Hawkeye gets upset by this but before things go on too long, BJ returns - the MASH got an influx of patients and sent out a request for a replacement doctor, since BJ was technically the closest he gets sent right back around. He throws a party for a group of orphans as a kind of replacement for Erin's birthday (bc he'd Almost made it home for it), but Hawkeye doesn't attend. At the end of the episode he succeeds in giving Hawkeye a proper goodbye by writing it out on the ground with rocks (verbally, I think he manages a 'see you later'?)

Father Mulcahy is involved in an explosion that causes him to lose the majority of his hearing. BJ is aware of this, but no one else is bc Mulcahy wants to keep it to himself bc he doesn't want the army to ship him home and cut off his work with the local orphans

Klinger winds up staying in Korea - he meets and gets married to Soon-Lee (a korean refugee) and decides to stay in country with her (as they look for the rest of her family, i think?)

Winchester meets a group of chinese soldiers who'd surrendered and winds up forming a relationship with them based on music. He teaches them how to play some classical english music on the instruments they came to the camp with. Later in episode, he finds out most of them have died during their transfer out of the camp. He also gets promised some kind of prestigious hospital position back in boston, but he's kind of pissy about it bc he found out margaret pulled some strings to help him get it, but he gets over it and they make up at the end of the ep

margaret says that she's been set up with a pretty nice administrative job in the army, which i'm pretty sure she decides to take. she also gives hawkeye a very heartfelt makeout sesh as a goodbye

i can't remember where potter winds up going BUT he donates his horse to the orphanage, so I'm assuming he heads home lol

I think that's everyone? if i've forgotten anything major anyone else who stops by to give this a look over can feel free to mention it in the replies (excluding hawk's plot, obviously lol); but hope this helps !

[haztory]

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 

 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Luke Pearce - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You may be the Watson to his Sherlock, but he knows you’re not a follower by nature. You stand firmly on your own two feet. And though it may scare him at times, particularly when your safety is on the line, he can’t deny the pride he feels watching you go above and beyond in all you do, especially when it involves others. That selflessness paired with your determination is what he truly admires about you, and he hopes that you’ll never change, no matter what trials you face.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your smile. Because if you’re smiling, he knows everything’s going to be okay. He also knows when that smile is forced and when it’s faltering, prompting him to take action of his own to protect or hold you. It’s a tell-all for him, and that brings him comfort.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

In any way he can. He loves holding you. However, he likes it best when you’re chest-to-chest with his arms around you holding you close, no matter if it’s a long hug, lounging on the couch, or snuggling in bed. It’s a versatile position, allowing for you to either meet each other’s gaze while still having close physical contact or for hiding your expressions, such as you snuggling against his chest or him resting his chin on top of your head. It fits for every scenario.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Ideal date? Well… a date… with you. He’s not picky. However, he definitely leans towards the more casual settings. Things where you two can be relaxed around each other, chatting and bantering all the way. Whether that’s strolling around town or a camping adventure or even relaxing at home with a familiar movie you’re not really watching in the background is up to you, but he’s down for any and all of them.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s… well, not quite an open book but rather a book you have to open. He frequently puts on a happy face, so sometimes, you have to break past that. Once you do, he’s not ashamed of being open and honest about his feelings. He wants first and foremost for everything to be okay and for you to be happy, but if you’re shutting that down and calling his bluff, he’ll surrender and be open to having heart-to-hearts so as to get on the same page as you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Yes… and no.

No, he doesn’t want a family because the lingering fear and guilt of leaving them behind would weigh heavily on his soul. But, if he was being honest with himself and the fear of his life being cut short wasn’t hanging over his head, his answer would be “how many kids are you willing to give him?” None? Okay, he gets you to himself. Five? Fantastic, he’d love a busy house. Adopt? He’s already got all the forms downloaded. Mix of both? Perfect. Family is what you make it, and he’s more than happy to make one with you, no matter what form that takes.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He loves things from you and accepts them all as a treasure. But he places the most value in things that are made. A solid ninety percent of the gifts he gives you are ones he made himself. He doesn’t see the value in giving gifts just to give them; they should either mean something or bring some sort of use to you. To him, gifts mean the most when time and effort was poured into it.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He wants contact with you, and hand holding can be both perfectly innocent and sweetly intimate. And little squeezes here and there can communicate without words. He loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Instantly blames himself. He’s there to protect you, and if you get hurt, that means he failed miserably, so you’ll likely have to coax him out of his self-abusive state. Doesn’t matter if it’s anything from a papercut to a large accident, he’ll think it’s his fault, and he will be by your side as much as humanly possible during your recovery. And if it has something to do with NXX? I pity the person who caused you harm. He’d devote far too much time and resources to hunting them down as quickly as humanly possible and making their life a living hell.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You’re childhood friends. There’s plenty of teasing and inside jokes to go around. It might just be impossible for you to go a single day without one inside joke or playful reference to the past being pulled up.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Luke’s kisses come in one of two varieties: Reverent and Passionate. Reverent kisses cover most kisses, consisting of everything from good morning to good night to general pecks on the forehead, cheek, nose, you name it. The ability and privilege to kiss you means a lot to him, so no kiss is ever taken for granted. Passionate kisses, on the other hand, are less about the way he pulls you close or presses his lips against yours and more about him emotionally baring his soul in those moments. However tangled or feverish that kiss ends up being is only a byproduct of him wanting to express just how much he genuinely adores you.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

You will have to drag it out of this man. Not so much the confession but the confidence to admit he wants to be with you, in sickness and in health, for as much time as he has left. So really, it’s far more likely that you confess first and he’ll admit he feels the same while telling you all the reasons you can’t be in a relationship. Only once you get over that will he pour out all his secrets of how long he’s loved you and how deeply he loves you… And potentially propose right then and there.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He could elope with you and be perfectly happy. And honestly… he might be the happiest with that. If you wanted an actual wedding, he really would have no problem letting you have what you wanted, but the beauty of an elopement is that it can be done sooner rather than later, and he thinks he’s running on borrowed time. If he’s gonna marry you, he’d want to do that, like… yesterday. So if you’re up for an elopement, you basically have twenty-four hours to find a dress because he’s gonna take you down to the courthouse ASAP.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

That he’s going to die soon and leave you behind. The biggest stressor for him is letting you get more attached to him because then his death will be even harder on you. And then what if you end up getting very close to him and marrying him like he wanted, only for him to leave you a widow at a young age? Or worst of all, what if he leaves you a single mom? He already hates the thought of leaving you, but leaving his kids behind…

He tries really hard not to think too deeply on this but it feels like a waking nightmare he’s not going to wake from any time soon.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man cannot go forty-eight hours without making at least one Sherlock Holmes reference. And he occasionally has the knack of saying them… at the worst time.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t think he’d be into cutesy, couple pet names all the time. Instead, I feel like he’d probably use “Watson” or any other childhood nickname he had for you on the regular basis. “Baby” and “Sweetheart” are probably in use, too, but he would tend to save those for quiet or tender moments. And “love” is reserved for the private, more intimate moments.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

In any way he can; you just have to be present. Quality time for Luke can be anything from you two sitting in the same room while doing different things to going on an adventure together to an intimate date night. As long as he’s with you, time is not wasted.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

Yes, yes, there’s grand gestures, but his love is shown in the little things. It’s the way he always is looking out for you, like offering you a moment to sit if you’d been walking a while or water if it’s hot. It’s in the way he squeezes your hand in the middle of a conversation. It’s the way he texts you reminding you not to over work yourself before ending it with an XO. Every day to him is precious, and he’s not going to bother with large, elaborate gestures of love if he can smother you in little, affectionate ones all day every day.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s pretty open with you, but the few secrets he has? Those he keeps locked away in the deepest part of himself. He will not let on that he has those secrets unless you get an inkling of their existence and go fishing to pull those secrets out of him. Keep at it; he won’t last long because he’s weak for you.

And of course, there’s state secrets he literally can’t tell you, but that’s a different matter all together.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Freaking years.

This boy has been in love with you forever and could have asked you out as early as high school, but he didn’t. Then you were apart for eight long years, and he could have started something up with you soon after you two reunited, but he didn’t.Instead, he plays the “beat myself up with regrets” game and wastes even moretime trying to logically distance himself from you before you eventually have to forcibly break him down. Only then does he cave. But the “beat himself up game”? Yeah, that never quits. Because eventually, he’ll beat himself up for wasting so much time to make a move.

You really have to help this boy out of those habits.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Will do anything to make you smile again. If you’re sad, he’ll try to pick you up with either a smile and some light banter or a hug and soothing words. If your mad, he’ll try to redirect or release your anger in any way he can. If you’re mad at him, que the kicked puppy look as he practically falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He will show off when he can, usually about his detective skills or ability to fix things, and he will look like a five-year-old boy trying to impress a girl on the playground while doing it. Be sure to praise him for those moments. You will be rewarded with a grinning blushy boy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

No. No. No.

…

Until you put your foot down and insist you’re gonna be by his side in a fight no matter what. He literally cannot win against you. And he hates it.

However, he is 110% your warrior and will be until he draws his dying breath. Nothing is going to change that. So if he can fight first and keep you from fighting in the first place, then he’ll do that.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book. He’s known you waytoo long to not be able to. Even those eight years didn’t change you too much, and he was able to relearn everything that felt new to him fairly quickly.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

One of two ways. In scenario L, after the love confession, he would propose marriage in the heat of the moment. You’d probably already both be crying and a total wreck, but your hearts would already be out on the line, and he’d just take that moment to drop the bomb of “please be by my side for the rest of my life”.

OR if that didn’t happen, (or maybe it did BUT he didn’t consider it a proper proposal and wants a redo) the proposal would be nothing big or fancy. Rather, it’s in a quiet moment between the two of you, either hanging out at your place or his. He’s sure to get down on one knee, holding your hand reverently as he pours out his heart to you. You’ll be in tears and his eyes will probably be glassy too by the time you say yes. At which point, he’ll put the ring on your finger and then hug you tight. And probably not let you go until absolutely necessary.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

You.

No, really. You’re basically his world, so as long as he’s able to see you and know you’re okay, he’s okay. And if you want to settle him with sweet words and gentle touches, go right ahead.

You will also put him to sleep if you massage his head with your nails, so be sure to pet the Golden Retriever Puppy. Let him have a moment where he isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

[aressss1]

Closure

(Past Dream x Reader)

In which you take Tommy’s place when the security breach happened in the prison.

CW// Angst, verbal fighting

~~~~~~

You had woken with a start, your heart pounding in your chest. You were still safe in Techno’s home. Recalling the events of your nightmare you clutch at the blankets that pooled in your lap as you sat up. Ranboo and Phil were in their homes probably fast asleep. You didn’t want to bother Techno either… Your nightmares about Dream had only progressively gotten worse since he was imprisoned. You didn’t know if you just needed closure or if Dream was some supernatural being calling you to him. You just wanted it to stop.

 You wanted it to stop when he was with you. Going through the wars, doing every horrible thing he could think of… You wanted to stand by his side. But you couldn’t… You just couldn’t. When you showed up among the group against Dream, the day that he was imprisoned you could see the bitterness in his eyes. He spat at you as he walked by you. You doubted he wanted to see you. But… To hell with what he wanted, you knew he couldn’t hurt you in that prison. Sam would get you out if there was a problem. You trusted Sam.

You looked around searching for some paper. You wanted to leave the boys a note, telling them where you were, and when you found what you were looking for, you scribbled a quick note. This couldn’t wait anymore. Techno, Phil and Ranboo probably wouldn’t know you were gone… It was still early in the night and you estimated you would be back at least by dawn. These guys were your family, they supported you like one. You would be back for them.

 Once you had gotten done writing your note you threw on some clothes and got ready. Setting your note on the crafting table of Techno’s home you open his front door and step outside gently closing it behind you. Not wanting to wake Techno, you started on your journey to the portal. The cold of the tundra was quickly melted by the heat of the Nether as you trudged on. Eventually you found yourself in front of Sam’s prison.

 With nowhere left to go you hesitantly push on the button, signaling for Sam’s help.

 “Yeah?” Sam’s voice came through a speaker that you couldn’t see in the tiny room.

 “It’s me… I need to see Dream.” You used all the courage you could muster. Sam was quiet for a second.

 “You know you need an appointment, right?” His voice took on that sternness you only heard out of him a few times. You felt your heart ache, you couldn’t wait.

 “I know Sam… Please I just… Need to see him.” You pleaded your soul out to him. “It really can’t wait.” When all you heard was silence on the other end of that speaker, your stomach started to churn.

 “You owe me.” His words caused a wave of relief to crash over you. “Step into the portal.” With those words you allowed yourself to disappear into the purple light of the portal. Sam took through the whole process, starting off with waivers, then putting your items into a chest and soon you were being searched for anything that you may have brought with you. When Sam walked with you, you could see how tired he was, and you felt a pang of guilt that you were contributing to his exhaustion.

 When the lava was lowering and you were instructed to keep your eyes forward, you started to feel that anxiety that Dream always had given you when he had invested himself in his wars. At first, he was very loving, and he was great with you. But something in him had changed and you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed this closure, maybe both of you did.

 Your breath caught in your throat when your eyes met his, and Sam had instructed you on how to get over to the obsidian landing. You took every bit of his instructions. You really didn’t want to burn in that lava. You felt Dreams eyes never leave you as the lava had refilled the chamber, and the netherite blocks lowered so you weren’t cut off from him anymore.

 “Why are you here?” His face looked worn, and his eyes were narrowed at you. “Come to torment me more?”

 “You speak about torment so lightly.” You spat out. “If this is torment to you, then what is everything that you have done, considered?”

 “Everything I did, I did it all for us.” He retorts, “All you had to do was wait for me, and I would have made sure everything would be fine. Why did you join them?” He flails his arm out as if motioning to someone in the room.

 “Because a line had to be drawn Dream.” Tears started welling in your eyes.

 “You’re going to wish that you never drew that line in the first place.” He stepped closer to you almost like a predator stalking its prey. “I’m going to personally make sure you lose everything you love. Yes, Techno, Ranboo, and Phil. They’ll be fucking gone,” His tone made you step back, and you felt the heat of the lava at your back. “Careful, you wouldn’t want to lose a life now would you.” He taunted, “Either way, I would bring you back. I know you’re on your last life.” If looks could kill, Dream would have been long dead.

 “I died both times for you,” your bitter words rang through the obsidian walls. “I don’t want to hear your lies. The others might believe your stories of bringing back the dead, but I don’t. I wished that they had just killed you. So, save it. I just came here to get you out of my life for good.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the room shaking. Explosions from above rang through your ears, causing a high pitch ringing. You fell to your knees, your hands rising to cover your ears. When the room stopped shaking, and the explosions were no more, you looked up to see Dreams shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

 “This is absolutely perfect!” His laughter never subsided as he spoke. “You can’t leave for seven days now.” Your heart pounded in your ears and you shifted to where you were facing the lava, screaming for Sam to get you, for him to answer you. Your screams for help were left unheard, and it spurred Dream into more laughter. Your eyes widened and your tears spilled down your cheeks. “Enjoy it, you’re going to be here for a while.” Dream’s voice filled your still ringing ears and the thud of something hitting the floor next to you knocked you from your trance. He had thrown a potato right next to you. His next words causing you to shudder.

 “We have a lot to talk about.”

 --

 Techno had called a meeting when he had found your note. Phil and Ranboo were standing in Techno’s living room, Ranboo reading the note over Phil’s shoulder.

 “Why wouldn’t they just come get one of us?” Ranboo questioned.

 “I think they didn’t want to bother us; I knew they were having some issues with nightmares but… I didn’t think it would be this bad.” Phil handed the note back to Techno.

 “I’m going to go find them, this doesn’t sit right with me… They said they would be back by dawn and its noon.” Techno set the note back down on the crafting table.

 “I’ll go with you.” Ranboo declared and the two of them looked at Phil who shrugged.

 “I’ll stay here in case they come back, which is perfect because we can use the stasis chamber so you two can come back if you hit any trouble.” The three of them nodded happy with their plans.

 ~~

 When they approached the outside of prison Sam had seen them and immediately stopped them, using his trident to fly to their position.

 “I’m going to have to ask you both to leave.” Sam’s eyes lingered on Techno’s blade. “There’s been a security breach and I am rather busy with that.” Techno shifted his weight onto one leg as he crossed his arms.

 “Where are they.” His monotone voice a warning to Sam. Ranboo watched from the side.

 “As I said before, there was a security breach, it happened while they were in there. I can’t let them out until I have solved it or until seven days from now.” Ranboo visibly cringed, and Techno in a split second looked pissed.

 “HEH?” He stepped toward Sam with malice. “Are you serious right now?” Techno’s hand itched for his sword. He had never even seen the inside of that prison, let alone knew how it worked fully. Ranboo had at least a little knowledge of what the waivers said.

 “I know, you’re aggravated right now Techno.” Sam put his hands up in surrender. “But every second I am not trying to fix this is another second they have to spend with Dream.”

 “You know what they have gone through Sam, and you can’t leave them for seven whole days in that cell.” Ranboo tried cutting in.

 “At least put them in another cell.” Techno’s blood boiled, “Don’t put them through that torture.” Sam shook his head.

 “That would be risking the prisoner escaping and I can’t have that.” Techno didn’t want to hear another word of Sam’s bullshit. Techno pulled his sword on Sam, and in a flash, Sam had blocked with his trident. “Techno,” Sam started, “You do not want to start with me. Just walk away.” Sam warned.

 “Techno come on; we both need to be here when they get out.” Ranboo tried calming the hybrid down. Techno thought it over, he grit his teeth and with a flick of his wrist he had knocked the trident out of Sam’s hands with his sword. He raised the tip to Sam’s throat.

 “If I don’t see them in between now and the seventh day, I will take your lives myself.” With that Techno sheathed his sword and walked away. Nothing but dread in both Ranboo’s and Techno’s chests. When Phil had triggered the stasis chamber, they were instantly back near the house that seemed empty without you there. When they told Phil what had happened, he was devastated for you. The three of them planned for anything.

 You had to come back at some point.

[winterscaptain]

roots.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: another one from 2026! aaron retires from federal service this year, at 57. 

words: 2.4k warnings: kids!, missing haley hotchner hours, language

summary: “Every day the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and more, that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be welcome.” ― George Washington, Farewell Address. au!october 2026

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

SSA Mallory Kagan asks you to outline your career with the FBI - purposefully using your first name instead of using your title. It keeps the students guessing and paying attention. 

Plus, the payoff when they figure out who you are is the best part of the whole lecture. 

“My career at the FBI is more like a big tree than a path or a journey.” 

You look out over the classroom - blue shirts abound - and take a deep breath to center yourself. 

You’re used to giving this lecture with Aaron, but this is your first fall without him, which also means that this is the first academy class who won’t know him in person. 

They’ll only hear tell of the legend SSA Aaron Hotchner was stabbed nine times, lost his wife to a serial killer, and kept going. You know they’ll hear stories about his severity, his general lack of sunniness, hear rumors about the way he laughs with his children, his wife, and nobody else. 

You know the older agents tell stories about you, too. They say you ‘tamed’ Hotch, made him a little nicer. They might even say they’ve seen him smile at you, or they’ve seen you give him hell in public. 

Aaron Hotchner is practically a myth, now, only supported by your reputation, tall tales from academy classes of yesteryear, and his own legacy.

That retired bastard currently sits in your house with your kids, right on his fine behind, very likely falling into boredom-addled insanity. 

“Everything that I am - a parent, a wife, a friend, and an agent - is because of my work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit over the past nineteen years. My unit is my family, and I can’t get rid of them. Just like our own families, we love to hate each other.” 

The room laughs, and you know you have them hooked. 

“Jokes aside, I would encourage you to get to know your colleagues. Each relationship I built within my unit put a root into the ground, made the proverbial tree stronger - to extend the metaphor. I work with very few of the same people I started with, but I feel as steady and supported as I did back when they called us ‘The Elite Eight.’” 

You chuckle a little, clicking through your introductory slide to showcase a photo of the BAU in 2012. You point to each of them as you speak. 

“SSA Emily Prentiss, current unit chief of the Behavior Analysis unit and former head of the Interpol London office, responsible for taking down one of the most prolific international arms dealers in modern history.” 

The room is quiet, a little awestruck, so you add, “She’s a bit of a big deal.” 

They laugh.

“SSA Derek Morgan - you’ll probably hear stories about how he survived the Boston bombing with SSA Gideon in 2005, but don’t worry. He wasn’t there. He was with his momma in Chicago, celebrating her birthday.”

Another laugh. 

You’ve honed this routine over the last five years, knowing what to add, when to pause, what to cut if the students lose interest. 

“That said, SSA Morgan is one of the best profilers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Today, he’s a consultant for DC Metro SWAT and is otherwise retired.”

Continuing down the line, “SSA Jennifer Jareau - JJ. Former communications liaison for the BAU, State Department, and DoD. She currently serves with the BAU as a profiler. If any of you are interested in PR or media relations, find an opportunity to speak with her about her experience. Her husband, Will, is a detective with the DC Metro Police and has plenty of stories of his own.”

A student raises a hand, and you give her the go-ahead. 

“Sorry for interrupting -“

You stop her. “You didn’t interrupt. You raised your hand. Don’t apologize for taking up space.” 

She smiles a little. “Okay. Um, I’m curious. How many people in your unit are married and/or have children? My understanding is that the work-life balance can be difficult in heavy-travel positions like the BAU.”

“It can absolutely be a challenge.” You look back at the photo. “In the course of my career, six of my colleagues have been or were already married and all of them went on to have children.”

“And you?”

You laugh a little, forgetting you’re alone up here. “Right.” 

The class laughs, and you point yourself out on the slide. 

“I still had my maiden name when this photo was taken, but now I share five children and a last name with SSA Aaron Hotchner.” You throw your thumb at Aaron’s likeness on the screen again for good measure. 

You check in with SSA Kagan to make sure you can share everything you usually do with Aaron present - your marriage was often the punchline of your lectures, letting you toe the line of humor a little farther than you normally would. 

She nods, a little smile on her face. 

“While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend dating your unit chief or marrying your section chief -“ you pause, holding your hands up in surrender to the echo of laughter “- even if they are the same person - you can certainly find the best people without looking too hard.” 

Hands shoot up into the air, but that always happens. It’s around this time people start asking the good questions. The people from their course materials and the people in front of them start to link together. 

They also figure out that you’re Agent Hotchner. That Agent Hotchner - the one married to the Agent Hotchner. 

You look out over the crowd again. “I know you have lots of questions, and I’m happy to confirm or deny any rumors about myself or my family, but,” you pause for dramatic effect. “Hold them for now - you’ll want to know the players before you ask the questions.” 

Hands drop, but pens start moving. You continue down the line, skipping over Aaron. 

“SSA David Rossi, a founding member of the BAU in the late 1980’s. He worked closely with SSA Jason Gideon, developing a database that we use to this day - one that outlines signatures, modus operandi, and victimology of modern serial killers. SSA Rossi is also well-known for his books - ten of them, in fact, that cover what we do in a kind of…” 

You search for a word. 

“Conversational format. He retired a couple of years ago, and is a full-time grandpa to all 16 of the BAU offspring.”

A few scattered chuckles pass through the room. 

“And then we have Dr. Spencer Reid - I could enumerate his degrees, but we don’t have that kind of time. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and remains an asset to the BAU in the field today.” 

You click to another slide - a photo of all of you taken a few weeks ago. 

“SSA Matthew Simmons - retired from the United States Army and former member of the FBI International Response Team, or IRT. He’s been with the BAU for ten years now. Like Dr. Reid and SSA Prentiss, he knows multiple languages - which comes in handy.” You look out and raise your eyebrows. “I hope all of you did well in your Spanish classes in high school - you might need it.” 

Another laugh. 

“SSA Luke Alvez and Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia are another pair that come from, shall we say, nontraditional backgrounds. While Garcia is no longer with the BAU, SSA Alvez is also celebrating his tenth year with us this fall.” 

A student raises his hand, and you call on him. 

“Isn’t Penelope Garcia the hacker known as The Black Queen? I learned about her work when I was at MIT.” 

You snort. “Nice way to slip in you went to MIT, there, bud.” You pause, waiting for the ruckus to die down as the student in question turns bright red. “But yes. Her experience was invaluable to our team. Just to keep up, we stole an analyst from the NSA to replace her - nobody else could cut the mustard.” 

You look back, stepping forward and pacing as you speak.”And finally, Dr. Tara Lewis. Formerly working in the FBI Counsel’s office as a forensic psychologist, she joined our team on cases where specific pathologies were in play before becoming a full-fledged member of our team.

“So, as you can see, there are so many varied qualities we look for in profilers, and your own path will be informed by the skills you develop, your temperament, and your dedication to the work itself. There’s no right way to be an agent, and when you leave the academy in five weeks, the whole world of the bureau will be open to you.” 

Clicking back to your introductory slide, you turn to the front of the classroom. “I know all my colleagues well enough to take any questions you may have about their careers and paths through the bureau. For any questions I can’t answer, I am happy to direct you to them with the understanding they may not get back to you due to our caseload. I’ll take your questions now.” 

Hands shoot up into the air, and you specifically call on the student in the back - the one you know has a question about Aaron. 

“So, when you say SSA Aaron Hotchner, you mean the same one that worked the Boston Reaper case for ten years?”

SSA Kagan checks in with you, ready to shut him down, but you call her off. 

“That’s right. SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, Dr. Reid, Miss Garcia, and I worked that case in its final year as well.” 

“I have a follow-up if that’s okay.” 

You tacitly give him leave to continue. 

“How do you handle cases that get that… close? I know there were considerable...” He searches for the right word. “...challenges. How did you guys deal with that?”  

Good question. 

Returning to the podium, you lean heavily against it, lacing your fingers in front of you. “You’ve all read the Reaper case file, yes? It’s still included in the MCRT training courses?”

There are nods around the room, but you check in with Kagan anyway. 

“The declassified version is covered,” She says. “They’re familiar with the full scope of the case.” 

“Okay. So, as you all know…”

You remind them what happened, from 1998 to 2009, finally landing where the students want you. “And on November 23rd, 2009, Haley Reneé Hotchner was George Foyet’s 40th and final victim. She was thirty-nine years old. And she was my friend.” 

The room is dead silent, all eyes on you, somber and attentive. 

“The case was personal. It became personal because Foyet forced our hands. He attacked Agent Hotchner in his home and then targeted his family. So, the question is, how do we deal with that? Right?” 

Even Kagan’s watching you closely. It’s the first time you’ve covered this case without the rest of your team. In your joint lectures with Aaron, the case is off-limits for questions. She’s never heard you tell the story in your own words. 

You take a breath. “And the answer is… you don’t.” 

There are some confused faces, so you elaborate. “There isn’t anything you can do to push the case away from you - that’s how people get hurt. In the meantime, you make adjustments. Agent Hotchner placed Agent Morgan in an interim unit chief position until the case was over, for the sake of his health and sanity. We chased down every lead, understanding that the faster we caught Foyet, the faster Haley and Jack, Agent Hotchner’s son, could come home.” 

A young woman in front tentatively raises a hand, and you open a hand to her. “Yes?” 

“What happened, you know, after?” 

“We moved on as best we could. Going back to my original point -” 

You leave the podium and take your place in the center of the floor again. 

“- the trust you have in the people you work with can carry you through a great many things. And not all of you will see horror every day - but some of you will.” 

You pause for a moment, hoping this is the part that really sinks in for them. 

“Always have something to come home to. Always have something or someone that brings you peace, that can take you away from the work.” 

+++

You set your things down and walk through the door, immediately accosted by two almost-eight-year-olds and their over-eager little brother. 

“Momma!” 

You haul Elliot onto your hip and kiss Sophia’s head as Caroline burrows into your side. “Hi, darlings! Did you already have dinner?”

Sophia moves to answer, but Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “Yes!” 

With a smile, you seek him out, dragging the girls along with you. Lo and behold, Aaron’s at the sink, washing dishes. Isaac’s supervising - sitting on the counter, swinging his feet. 

Aaron gets a kiss on the cheek from you as you pass and he turns over his shoulder, chasing you until you peck him on the lips, Elliot squished between you. Your son squirms, and you set him on the ground to chase after his sisters. Isaac hops off the counter likely off to investigate the happenings before retreating to his room for the rest of the evening.

For once, you’re left alone. 

“How was your lecture?” 

Your arms free, you wrap around him and rest your full weight against his chest as he backs himself into the counter. “Went well. Missed you, though.” 

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Did they ask about Foyet?” 

“Mhmm. It was a good segue into trusting your team and building each other up, knowing when to step back, etcetera.” 

He nods. “Good way to bring it back around. How’s Kagan?” 

“She’s good, loving it, as always.” 

“Think she’s ever gonna retire?” He asks, tucking into your neck. 

You laugh as he presses kisses to the underside of your jaw. “Probably not.” 

Aaron leans back to look at you, bringing his hand to your face to brush over your cheekbone. “Are you ever gonna retire?” 

“Probably not.” 

“What if,” he says, his hands slipping into your back pockets, “you retired in…” He does the math in his head. “Thirteen-ish years and I make it worth your while.” 

“Oh yeah? Worth my while? And you’ll be, what, a hundred years old?” 

His eyes roll so hard you’re sure he could see his own brain. You pull him down for a kiss, but it doesn’t stop him from mumbling, “Give me a fuckin’ break,” against your mouth. 

“Never.” 

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @wakatoshislover @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos​ @itsmytimetoodream @pinkdiamond1016 

[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - The Black Envelope

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

Finally got an update for you all! It only took about a week :’) Hopefully this wasn’t too boring a chapter, but there’s Kuina content, so does that make up for it? 

I will also update the master post too, I promise!

Here’s the AO3 Link. 

Thanks for reading <3

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

The black envelope was nothing more than a pointless ritual created by Hatter to fuel his paranoia. But it was almost incredible seeing how many of the executives and militants still obeyed it. Niragi had suggested opening it right then and there, only Aguni refused and decided to leave it until the next day - an unusual choice for someone who should’ve been desperate to become number-one as quickly as possible. 

Perhaps there was more between him and Hatter than he let on. 

I’d invited the others to join me in my room to go over the plan, and as expected, Kuina was the first to arrive. From the moment she closed the door behind her and jumped onto my bed, it became apparent she still hadn’t let go of our conversation this morning. 

‘You,’ she said pointedly. ‘Did you really think I’d have nothing to say about what you told me earlier?’ 

I sank into a chair by the window. ‘What I told you isn’t any of your business.’ 

‘Uh-uh. That’s bull and you know it. She’s our friend…well, she’s my friend, god only knows what she is to you. If you’re going to hurt her it’s absolutely my business.’ 

Hurt her? That simply wasn’t possible. If anything, nothing would ever change beyond what it is now, and the one who gets hurt wouldn’t be her. The thought made me smile. 

‘I have no intention of it.’ 

Kuina drummed her fingers on her knee. ‘Why do I not believe you?’

‘I don’t care about romance,’ I replied. ‘And what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.’

At this, Kuina’s fingers stilled. ‘You mean, you’re not going to tell her?’ 

‘Of course not.’ 

‘You can’t do that, Chishiya,’ she said. ‘You just can’t.’ 

‘And why not?’

She slapped her hand on the bed. ‘Because that is hurting her.’ 

That’s ridiculous. Telling her would only push her further away. 

Before I could respond, the door cracked open. We had a guest. Arisu shyly stepped inside, Usagi and (name) shuffling in behind him. 

‘Just in time.’ I gestured towards the chairs and the couch. Arisu and Usagi took two of the chairs, while (name) seated herself on the end of couch closest to my seat. ‘Kuina, make sure the door’s shut properly.’ 

‘It’s shut.’  

Her voice was clipped, and the way she was pouting was simply childish. She could try and make a point all she wanted. What I had confessed to her would stay a secret, whether she liked it or not. I reached into the drawer of a side-table and pulled out the walkie talkies I had collected weeks ago. 

‘I’m sure you’ve already guessed this, but Hatter didn’t come back from his last game.’ The statement was meant for Kuina, Usagi and (name), as Arisu had already witnessed the body, however nobody seemed shocked by the news. ‘The militants are saying that he was shot in his game, but his body was actually discovered floating in the river by one of the supply runners.’ 

‘Wait,’ Usagi cut in. ‘How do you know about his body?’ 

I could’ve done without her skepticism, but she was the key to Arisu’s cooperation. ‘The supply runner told An in secret after our meeting, and I just happened to be nearby. Either way, Hatter was ambushed and shot, and Aguni is now the Beach’s new leader.’ 

The room fell silent, until Arisu whispered, ‘It’s just like you predicted.’ He ran his fingers along his mouth, rocking gently in his seat. ‘This plan of yours, you’re thinking of doing it tonight, right?’ 

‘Tomorrow,’ I corrected him. 

I passed the walkie talkies around one by one, savouring the warm brush of skin as I placed (name’s) in her palm. I could tell from the way she leaned in that she was struggling to keep up with the conversation, and though it was her own fault for not trying hard enough to study Japanese, I still found myself slowing down while talking. 

‘The playing cards,’ I explained, ‘they’re kept in a safe hidden somewhere in the royal suite. Nobody knows the passcode except the current number-one. But because there’s always chance that the number-one could die in a game, the code is also kept in a black envelope. The black envelope is only opened when there’s a new number-one.’ 

Even if we used Arisu to find the location of the safe, we wouldn’t know whether the code was correct or not until the moment itself. I had a few theories about what the code was, but it all depended on Aguni’s reaction during the ceremony. 

‘There’ll be a meeting tomorrow,’ I clarified, ‘and Aguni will open it in front of all the executives.’ 

‘It’s only read by the number-one, right?’ (name) asked.

‘That’s right. But as for the safe itself, Arisu will be the one to infiltrate the royal suite.’ 

Arisu sat forward, resting an elbow on his knees. ‘What about the passcode?’ 

Seeing how invested he was, I smiled. ‘I already have an idea about that. I’ll tell you when you’re in front of the safe.’ 

‘You really are cautious.’ His face twisted into a knowing grin - a little ironic, considering the circumstances. ‘Got it!’ 

And now for the others.

I glanced between the three of them, only (name) flinched and immediately lowered her head like an embarrassed teenager. The movement caught me by surprise, however I paid it no mind. 

‘You three will be on the lookout.’ 

Usagi rolled the walkie talkie in her palm and hissed, ‘It’s too dangerous. If we’re found out, we’ll be killed.’ 

I would’ve said something more, but there was no need. Arisu, the ever-loyal puppy, jumped straight in to defend the plan he knew almost nothing about. 

‘It’s fine Usagi,’ he said, echoing the same words I’d spoken during our rooftop conversation. ‘With Hatter dead, there’s no unity at the Beach. This is the only way.’ 

You only believe that because I told you it was the only way. You really are this gullible. 

Knowing I had Arisu convinced was enough for me. Usagi would never be completely swayed, but that’s just who she was. She was far too loyal to Arisu to abandon him and the plan now. And besides, the militants would deal with her later. 

I broke down everyone’s positions; me watching over the executives during Aguni’s speech, Arisu waiting at the end of the hall before heading inside the royal suite, Usagi standing guard outside, and the other two outside the elevator to the top floor. 

It was straightforward enough, and if any of them were suspicious they didn’t show it. At this point, everyone was so desperate to abandon the Beach, they would try anything. Arisu and Usagi eventually left, whispering between themselves. 

I waited for the Kuina and (name) to join them, except neither made a move. Kuina was combing through her braids and messing up my bed without a care in the world. The latter looked even more nervous than before, as though she had a question she was too embarrassed to ask. Some of the details had likely gotten lost in translation, and part of me enjoyed being able to control how much she understood. Another part hated how reliant she was. 

‘Why don’t I go in the royal suite instead?’ 

A cold tension washed over me, as if the empty void I was so familiar with had suddenly dropped open. That wasn’t what I had expected at all. Kuina’s hand slipped out of her braids, her mouth parting. 

‘No,’ I said firmly. 

‘How come?’ She shifted forward in protest, ‘I want to help.’ 

‘If you want to help, you’ll keep out of the way while Arisu finds the safe.’ 

‘Chishiya.’ Kuina’s stern look reminded me of our earlier exchange. Her language skills may have been less practised than mine, but she was vaguely following along, at least enough to criticise me. 

‘But what if I go in there with him?’ (name) suggested. ‘Two people searching are faster than one.’

Was this because I told her and Kuina to stay together? Silly girl. For someone usually so sharp, she was truly incapable of reading between the lines. 

‘If the executives start heading back,’ I pointed out, ‘you won’t be able to understand the others quickly enough.’ It was the best excuse I could come up with. If only she would take it and be quiet. 

Kuina slid off the bed and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s better this way, believe me. It’ll look more natural if you and I are together instead of just waiting around on our own. We can pretend we’re talking.’ 

(Name) pulled a face at how things had panned out. If she chose to go behind our backs and swap positions with Arisu there was little I could do to stop her, except perhaps cancelling the plan entirely. However that would raise more questions than it answered, and there wouldn’t be another chance like this. 

Leaving no room for debate, I tried to explain to her that Arisu would be better for the job, but with Kuina’s gentle insistence, she gave up pestering me about it and finally accepted her place in the plan.

‘Fine, fine.’ She raised her hands in mock surrender and stood up wearily. ‘You guys win. I just… I don’t know. I’m kind of tired. I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay?’ 

Hearing those words did little to relieve the unease I was feeling. Kuina’s smile was too fake, and once the door had closed and (name) was out of earshot, I reminded her, ‘You shouldn’t make it too obvious. If she knows about Arisu, she’ll get in the way.’ 

She slid into the chair where Arisu had been sitting, and rubbed her fingers against her temple. ‘This is a nightmare.’ 

A funny choice of words. 

‘We’re in a parallel world playing games to survive,’ I said. ‘This isn’t as easy as a nightmare.’ 

‘It’d be easier if you told her the truth.’ 

Kuina’s obsession was starting to get repetitive, and I was already bored of it. I got to my feet and pulled my hood over my head. The movement seemed to catch her attention, her head snapping up as I walked towards the door. 

‘Hey,’ she called, ‘where are you going?’ 

Fishing my headphones out of my pockets, I considered dropping by a certain room, but after remembering the way she recoiled when I looked at her, I decided better of it. ‘Somewhere where I can get some quiet. Tomorrow, you should go to her room before we start. There’s a chance she could offer to trade places with him.’ 

Kuina started to object, but I didn’t care enough to listen. Her voice silenced as the door closed behind me. In times like this, when my head was crowded and the hollowness was clawing at my mind, all I craved was the silence of the roof. 

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

As the story went, Hatter had died purely in his game, despite how his body had never been cleaned up, nor the way it had been dumped without a care in the river. And now, the numbers had been re-shuffled, making Aguni the new number-one. At least, that’s what they intended to tell the residents. However, Aguni wasn’t officially number-one until he opened the black envelope. 

One by one, the executives all filed into the meeting room, Niragi lazily stretched out in the seat across from me, and Last Boss leaning against the wall. The former number-two, Kuzuryu, was calm as usual, resting his laced fingers in front of him. He shared a look with Mira who only grinned in return, a little too interested in the ceremony. 

My focus, however, was on the man at the head of the table. 

From the corner of my eye, Aguni drew the envelope closer and pried open the bright red seal. Then he paused. 

Well, isn’t this interesting? 

There was a slight delay where his expression froze, taken aback by the paper before him. His brows drew together, then all at once, as if it had never happened, he folded up the sheet and slid it into the envelope once more. 

Aguni wasn’t a man caught off guard so easily. Whatever he’d seen on the paper was the opposite of what he’d expected. Either the code was more complex than just a set of numbers, or the page contained something different entirely. It was when Aguni took Hatter’s ring and stamped it across the hot wax seal that everything suddenly clicked. 

The wax hardened, leaving behind a mirrored embossing of the word “BOSS”. A mirrored embossing that resembled a set of numbers. 

Hatter really was a paranoid man. 

The passcode was 8022. 

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 58

Masterlist

----

The war is over.

Future history books will mark the day the Black Land surrendered as the official end of the war, although in reality, it was only a day after that that the last Loyalist country signed its surrender.

If not for what happened to the Black Land, historians will eventually write, it might have lasted for weeks, maybe months, longer. But as it was, no country wanted to share the Black Land’s fate, and so they surrendered rather than risk their land being turned to ashes. Throughout the centuries to come, historians will never manage to agree on whether that justified Miryam’s actions or not, although in these initial days, the wide-spread opinion throughout the Alliance is that the end of the war is worth any price. And in the human-and-Seraphim camp in the Black Land, everyone certainly agrees on that.

Stranded in a hostile country, there is little room for celebration, but still, a relieved, almost exuberant atmosphere hangs over the entire camp. The shared sense of victory does wonders to bridge some of the gaps between humans and Seraphim, so while they still keep separate camps, the two groups now mingle far more often, both during the marches and sitting around campfires afterwards.

Of course, some tensions remain, but Drakon is still amazed by how well things work out. This, he thinks, is what the future might be like with a bit of work. Humans and Fae, living side by side in peace and mutual respect. It will take years yet to get there – decades, maybe centuries – but they stand a chance.

In spite of all the horror behind them and the long road that is still in front of them, Drakon feels lighter than he has in years. Miryam seems happier as well. Occasionally, her face darkens when they pass barren fields or scorched villages, but she also smiles more than she has in years.

On the fifth day of their march east, towards the sea and the safety that lies beyond, Nephelle lands next to Drakon where he is walking near the front of the column.

“They’re making plans for bonfires now,” she says by way of greeting and grins. “I would personally say we had enough of fire for a while, but they seem to think that a good victory party requires at least one giant bonfire.”

“As long as they don’t get the idea to burn down the forests for celebration, I’m all for it,” Drakon says, grinning back at her.

Two days ago, his soldiers got the idea that they absolutely need to hold a celebration once they get back to Erithia. Celebrate the end of the war, victory and peace and the future that’s ahead of them. Planning has been underfoot ever since.

Some of the ideas they come up with are a bit extreme – for example, he had to categorically refuse the idea of shooting fireworks over the border to Rask – but he is happy that they are having fun, and even more happy that many of them are making a conscious effort to include the humans into their planning. From what he’s seen so far, most of the humans are as hesitant of the idea of a celebration as they are of anything that has to do with Fae (which is more than understandable, given what Miryam told him about what parties in the Black Land tended to mean for the human slaves), but some seem excited about the idea and are even tentatively joining the planning.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Nephelle says. “It’s been a while since we last had a celebration.”

Drakon nods. “I think everyone needed some happiness.”

“True,” Nephelle says. She ruffles her wings, shily glances down at her feet. “Talking about happiness: There was something I’ve been meaning to tell you about.” She looks around, checking that no one is close enough to listen. Slowly, a grin breaks out on her face. “Sinna and I are thinking of getting married.”

Drakon stares at her for a moment. Then, he throws his arms around her and spontaneously wraps her into a hug, grinning broadly. “That’s amazing, Nephelle! Congratulations.”

She grins and steps from one foot to the other. “We haven’t really decided on anything yet,” she says. “But, well. We talked. And I thought I’d tell you first because… well, because I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?” Drakon asks. He can’t remember doing anything that would warrant thanks.

“You suggested I become a cartographer,” Nephelle says, as if that is obvious. When Drakon still doesn’t reply, she sighs. “It was good for me. Personally.” She shrugs. “Because, well, I thought that this – “ She shifts her left wing. “ – somehow made me less worthy. That because I couldn’t fly as well as the others and would never be a soldier, I wasn’t as good as the other Seraphim and the thing between Sinna and me… well, that it would never work out in the end because of that.”

Not knowing what to say, Drakon simply nods. He remembers all too well how insecure Nephelle was about these things before the war. He also noticed that this seemed to change over the years of the war, but it never seemed fitting to ask what had prompted that change.

“Working as a cartographer helped,” Nephelle says. “It showed me that… well, that how well my wings work doesn’t dictate my worth as a person. It made me more secure, about my relationship with Sinna, yes, but more importantly in myself.”

Drakon smiles at her. “I’m so happy for you,” he says. The words aren’t really enough to convey what he is feeling, but Nephelle seems to understand anyways.

They have a small celebration in their tent that night, just Nephelle, Sinna, Miryam and him. Stuck in enemy territory, they don’t have access to any good food and can’t risk drinking alcohol, but well, they can make up for that once they are back in Erithia.

After just over a week on the march, they are finally approaching the ocean. Erithia only has a small fleet, not nearly enough to carry all humans at once, but they won’t need to go far. They will only need to sail through the passage between the Black Land and Seyhin and a bit further inland until they reach Erithia, and having the ships sail back and forth to get everyone across won’t take more than a few hours.

The closer they get to their destination, the better the mood gets. Everyone is excited to get out of the Black Land. The Seraphim are happy to return home to their families, while the humans are looking forward to finally leaving this place they hated and being able to build a home for themselves elsewhere or meet other humans.

Drakon is at the front of the group again, Miryam walking next to him this time. She is smiling and her steps are lighter, like she can’t wait to get out of here either. They have been discussing the developments in the camp for and hour, and Miryam is just beginning to tell him about Niria, one of the people the humans chose as their representants.

“She’s brilliant at logistics,” she says as they are climbing up another dune. “Her owner worked in a trading charter, and she picked up on a lot on how these things will work. She’s great, really. And she’s wonderful with the other humans as well. When they get their own country, I think – “

She breaks off mid-sentence, staring ahead. Drakon, who had been looking at her and not ahead, turns to follow her line of sight.

Below them, the ocean stretches out, waves lapping on a wide beach. Here, the ships should be waiting for them.

Only there are no ships. At least no functioning ones. Instead, the entire beach is littered with burned-out shipwrecks. Charred masts poke into the air like broken fingers. Surrounding the ships, Drakon can make out corpses lying in the sand.

Distantly, Drakon notices that more people are coming up next to them and stopping dead on top of the dune as well. He is still trying to make sense of what he is seeing. This isn’t possible – these ships… The Black Land didn’t have any soldiers in the region, couldn’t have winnowed them in, either. They knew where the Black Land’s soldiers were stationed, they checked that before he sent out orders to send these ships. They were careful. So how could this happen?

Cauldron, the people… The soldiers who were with these ships, they…

Behind him, people begin to mutter, news of what happened spreading through the column like a wave. Then, Sinna’s voice rises out over the general noise, ordering the soldiers into defensive positions. That snaps Drakon back into reality as well. Of course. If there were soldiers here who burned these ships, they might well still be here and setting a trap for them.

Miryam is still staring at the burned ships, like they are the only thing that exists for her.

Scouts are sent out. Sinna and a few other Seraphim go to check the beach for traps. Twenty minutes later, they come back with the result that the beach is trap-free. Having established that it is safe, they let the humans go down to the beach. Sinna orders a few of the soldiers to collect the dead soldiers, a few of the humans volunteering to help.

Miryam finally seems to snap out of her shock and joins Drakon in making rounds with the humans, trying to reassure them. She still seems unusually distracted, though. When she talks to the humans, she sounds nowhere near as confident as usual and between conversations, she keeps stopping to stare at the burned ships.

When they have a moment alone, Drakon puts a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find another way across the sea,” he says, keeping his voice low. “It might take a day or so, but we’ll be able to arrange for other ships.”

That will not bring the soldiers who were burned along with these ships back to life, though. Drakon still doesn’t understand how this could happen.

Miryam nods distractedly and looks over at the ships again. She’s frowning slightly, almost like she is looking at an equation that doesn’t quite make sense to her. Before Drakon can probe any further, though, Sinna steps up to them.

“We need to talk,” she says. “Now. In private.”

Her tone leaves no room for discussion. Miryam and Drakon exchange a look and follow her without question. She leads them a few feet away from the group, then waves a hand, putting up a ward around them.

“The scouts are back,” she says. Pauses. “We’ve got an army incoming, half an hour away. It’s the entirety of the Black Land’s remaining forces, led by Ravenia.”

For a moment that seems to drag on for eternity, all Drakon can do is stare at her. He heard Sinna, but he can’t quite wrap his mind around what she is saying. This is completely and utterly impossible. The Black Land’s army dissolved, and with its leadership imprisoned in Telique, it shouldn’t have been able to reassemble. But of course, Ravenia was meant to be imprisoned in Telique as well, awaiting her execution. How did she get free?

“This isn’t possible,” he whispers. Next to him, Miryam seems to have frozen entirely.

“I don’t know how it happened either and right now, it hardly matters,” Sinna says. “No matter how this happened, they are only half an hour away, they have more than twice our numbers and we are stuck here with no way across the ocean.”

“What can we do?” Miryam asks, abruptly turning to Sinna.

Sinna shrugs. For the first time, she seems completely at a loss. “The numbers stand against us,” she says. “I might be able to turn this around under different circumstances, but not with thousands of civilians to protect.

Miryam starts trembling. “We need to do something,” she snaps. Her voice quivers. It’s the first time Drakon has seen her lose control like this in a meeting, and it scares him almost as much . “We… I…” She shakes her head, pointing vaguely. “We can’t fight this many soldiers. Ravenia’s army is more than thrice the size of ours! They will break through, and everyone will die.”

“And what do you want us to do?” Sinna asks, voice hard. She keeps control of her expression, but Drakon can tell that she’s panicking as well from the set of her mouth, the look in her eyes. “Those ships were vital! There are miles of ocean between us and safety and without ships, we have no way to get across.”

Drakon digs his fingers into his tunic, staring over at the offending ocean. It is calm today, what use is it when it’s too far for the humans to swim through? Him and the other Seraphim could easily fly, of course, but the humans lack the necessary wings.

“Can your soldiers fly them across instead?” Miryam asks.

No, flying won’t work. There are too many humans and too few Seraphim for that. No, they need some way that will allow the humans to get across on their own. But how?

“Won’t work,” Sinna says, echoing Drakon’s thoughts. “Carrying people while flying is difficult, and for this to work, each soldier would need to make dozens of flights.”

Drakon stares at the ocean, wishing he could make it disappear by thought alone. If only they had water powers. Then, they could just make the ocean part for them, creating a passage for them to walk through.

“What if we part the ocean?” He asks, making both Sinna and Miryam turn to stare at him.

“Yes, sure,” Sinna mutters drily. “Let me just ask the water to disappear real quick.”

“I meant with our powers” Drakon says. “We’ve got wind powers. It won’t be ideal, but if we’ve got enough people working together, we could drive the water apart, create a passage for the humans to flee through.”

“And drown when the water comes down,” Sinna cuts in, shaking her head. “Besides, we would have to hold back Ravenia’s army while the humans run and keep the water at bay long enough for everyone to get through. This is impossible.”

“It’s our best chance,” Miryam says. “Unless you’ve got any other ideas for getting across the ocean, because I certainly don’t.”

Sinna evidently doesn’t have any ideas either, and with only half an hour until Ravenia’s army gets here and likely kills anyone in sight. “I guess there are worse ways to die,” she says drily and jumps into motion to get things organized.

----

Somehow, Miryam manages to calm herself enough to explain the situation to the other humans. They take the news calmly – most of them probably more calmly than Miryam herself. Some start crying quietly, but they don’t dissolve into a panic.

Miryam stumbles a bit over her words when she tries to explain the plan, something that never happens to her. It all seems so surreal. The Seraphim will use their magic to part the water for us. Once they do, you need to get through as quickly as possible. Please form an orderly column now, once the passage is open, you won’t have much time.

Crazy as the request is, they accept it and follow Miryam’s directions calmly. She is proud, so very proud of how well they are doing. They don’t deserve this new horror. By all rights, they should be safe, happily on their way towards freedom.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Once she is sure that everything is working out, she hands control over to Niria and the other human leaders. She actually wanted to talk to Sinna or Drakon again, do something useful, but she just ends up staring at the burned ships again. The ships that shouldn’t have been burned. It doesn’t make sense.

One of the Seraphim commanders rushes by, and Miryam waves him over to her. He stops only hesitantly, clearly unhappy about the introduction, and bows to her.

“We had intel on where the Black Land soldiers were stationed up until two days ago, right?” She asks. “And they were all stationed in Lako or west from there?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And to get here, they would have had to be travelling at full speed, right? Meaning it wouldn’t have been possible for them to send any soldiers ahead.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Not as far as I know.”

Miryam nods. “Thank you,” she says, and the soldier rushes on.

She goes back to staring at the ships. They kept it secret. Told hardly anyone about how they were planning to get out of the Black Land. Ravenia shouldn’t have found out about it.

Ravenia shouldn’t have been able to escape from Telique.

And even if both of these things somehow happened, Ravenia could never have gotten her soldiers here in time to burn the ships before their arrival if, travelling at full speed from Lako, her soldiers will only arrive in thirty minutes. Besides, even if they had managed, they would have stayed behind to lay a trap for them instead of winnowing back to join the rest of the army. It simply doesn’t make sense.

And that means…

It means it couldn’t have been Ravenia who burned these ships. But burned they were, and by someone with fire powers. Those are rare, though. Only the Black Land and Rask have them with the Loyalists, and Rask surrendered already. They would have had no reason to go along with Ravenia’s revenge plans and risk the good conditions they managed to secure for themselves.

Besides, Rask wouldn’t have had a way of getting Ravenia out of Telique.

Someone from the Alliance, then. It must have been, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Only a member of the Alliance would have known about where the ships would be and would also have had a way to help Ravenia escape.

Someone from the Alliance would have been able to get troops here, burn the ships and vanish before they arrived, trapping them here for Ravenia to finish her off. And only someone from the Alliance would have had a reason for vanishing instead of staying to lay a trap.

This isn’t an unfortunate coincidence, or sheer bad luck. It’s an assassination attempt.

Miryam feels strangely detached from the entire situation. It’s like she is watching it from the outside, carefully analysing the patterns and coming to the only logical conclusion. Like this doesn’t concern her at all.

Fire powers, that means either Sangravah or the Autumn Court. Zeku wouldn’t… He broke off their alliance, yes, but he wouldn’t try to kill her, would he? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. And Autumn wouldn’t act alone. But of course, if there is anyone behind this, it must be Shey. Him and those who work with him.

It makes a horrifying amount of sense. Shey has been hoping to get rid of her for a while, maybe tried it once already when he sent her to Kehne. But he can’t get his own hands dirty, so instead, he set this trap. Maybe got Beron, who always hated her, to help. Maybe even had more of the Fae countries on his side, who knows. Once she is dead, he will likely be the next one to lead the Continent. And if it is Ravenia who kills her, no one will ever question it or think to blame him.

He dragged hundreds of thousands of people into it. Drakon and his soldiers, who she asked to help her in this, thousands of them. And the nearly five hundred thousand humans she freed.

None of them have anything to do with this. And yet, they might all die, just because one arrogant, self-centred asshole wants to kill her over a threat that is all in his head.

All these people. So many people.

“Miryam.”

She flinches so hard she nearly jumps into the air.

“Sorry.” Drakon steps up next to her. “I just… Well, I saw you standing there, and I thought since everything is settled, we should maybe use the chance to talk. Since, you know…”

Since it might be their last chance. Since they might both drown in the ocean, or be killed by the approaching army.

In fact, it’s more likely that Drakon will die. He will be on the battlefield, she won’t be. She hardly even has any magic left, and without it, she won’t be any use at all on the battlefield. All she can do is run, how could she? This is happening because of her. Any death that happens will be, in a way, on her. She cannot run while other people die for her.

And anyways, what point is there to running, when Shey and the others will just try to kill her again until they succeed, possibly dragging even more innocents into it? What chance does she even have?

“I should stay,” she says. She turns towards the ocean, imagining the passage that will soon form in there. “You can use all the help you can get down there. I should stay and help instead of running away.”

“Your power still isn’t back,” Drakon says. “And you’re a trained healer, not a soldier. You can help, but not on a battlefield.”

He is reasonable – she knows he is. She never even wanted to learn to use a sword, and now, she suddenly wants to fight in battle? If anything, she will probably be more of a danger to the people around her than to the enemy, untrained as she is.

But she cannot run. She cannot. How can she leave Drakon, leave his soldiers to fight and die down there while she runs?

Drakon is frowning at her. “Alright, Miryam,” he says gently. “What is this really about? Because you and I both know that all you will accomplish by fighting in that battle is to get yourself killed.”

Miryam slowly shakes her head. “I just –“ Her voice breaks, leaving her unable to finish the sentence. Suddenly, tears are running down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Hey,” Drakon whispers, wrapping his arms around her. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. “Hey, Miryam. It’s alright. We’re going to get through this.”

This just makes her cry harder. How she wishes this was true.

“No,” she whispers. She presses her face into his shoulder and clings on to him like they will be able to disappear if she only holds on tight enough. “No, you don’t understand. This wasn’t Ravenia. It was all Shey and…” She breaks off again. She isn’t making any sense, but maybe Drakon still understands because he tenses.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“The Alliance did this,” Miryam whispers. “Shey and I don’t know how many others. They burned the ships, they let Ravenia out, they… All because of me. All these people will die because of me and I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I can’t run while you all stay here and die.”

Drakon is silent for a while. He doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t question her judgement, merely stands there, absentmindedly rubbing her back.

“But you getting yourself killed won’t change anything, will it?” He finally asks.

Miryam shakes her head. “But I will die either way, don’t you see?” She asks. “I don’t even stand a chance, Shey will just – “

Drakon lets go of her and steps back so he can look her in the eye. Gently takes her by the shoulders. “We’ll find a way to deal with that,” he says. “We will. But we can’t do that if you die today. Please. Please don’t do this, don’t just throw your life away like this and let them win without putting up a fight.”

Miryam swallows. Wipes her tears away. It is so easy, so very easy to believe Drakon when she says she stands a chance. After all, she wants to believe him so badly.

“Alright,” she says, voice thick, and reaches for his hands. “Then I will be at the end of the column.”

Drakon nods. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” Miryam whispers, trying not to think about the fact that this might be goodbye. She doesn’t dare to say anything else, doesn’t want to provoke fate by giving goodbyes. Maybe if she pretends that this is just a normal battle, everything will be fine. Maybe if she only acts like she isn’t worried at all, Drakon will get out of this alive. So she merely squeezes his hands and whispers, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

----

Five minutes later, Drakon has his soldiers assembled on the shore, mere feet away from the ocean. On his signal, they all raise their hands and send a current of wind shooting towards the ocean.

The water doesn’t part easily. The ocean is an ancient, wild thing, and unused to being forced to yield parts of his territory to the air. It fights them every step of the way, tons of water straining against being pushed to the side by the air.

Drakon is shaking with the effort of it, almost thinks he can feel the physical weight of the ocean pressing down on him. Foot by foot, they fight their way forward, until the water is forced to give up, until a path is beginning to form through the ocean.

The passage extends only halfway through the ocean when Miryam signals to the first of the humans to get into it. They hesitate, staring at the walls of water looming up before them, but only briefly. Then, they start moving.

In the end, they barely finish in time. The passage is just finished, the last of the humans (Miryam among them) having stepped into it, when the vanguard of Ravenia’s army appears in the distance. Magic quivering in his grip, Drakon draws his sword and shouts an order to his soldiers to take up position in front of the passage’s entrance.

Looking at the army that is racing towards them, he knows they will never be able to hold it. If they manage to last a few minutes before being forced into a retreat battle, it will be a minor miracle. But for the sake of the humans fleeing behind them, they will have to try.

----

Miryam walks at the end of the long line of humans that is fleeing through the narrow channel Drakon’s soldiers created. Run, that was the order the humans were given, but truth is that they cannot run. Well, many of them can, but there are the old, the injured and the children and no matter how hard they may try, they cannot keep pace. They cannot run, and so those who could don’t, either. Instead, they adjust their pace to that of the slower ones, helping them along instead of rushing ahead.

Miryam herself carries a little girl, four or five years old, on her shoulders. The mother is walking next to her, heavily pregnant. Walking this far at all must be exhausting for her, but she doesn’t complain. Neither does the little girl, for all that she must be terrified. She doesn’t make a noise at all, merely clings on to Miryam’s shoulders and stares, wide-eyed, at the ocean surrounding them.

In the Black Land, even children this small know to stay silent, to be compliant, no matter how scared they may be.

Miryam knows little about children and less about how to put them at ease. With an adult, she would know what to say to calm them, but here, she is at a loss. After a few minutes, the girl begins to play around with her hair. Mortified, the mother chides her, but Miryam waves her off, and so the girl begins to weave tiny braids into her hair.

They move too slowly by far. From what Miryam can see from the back of the line, not a single human has reached the shore yet. She doesn’t know how long the Seraphim will be able to keep the ocean up, and once it comes down, everyone still on the ocean floor will die. Miryam resists the urge to look over her shoulder to see what is happening in the battle that must surely be raging by now. She can’t hear the noise of battle over the roaring wind that is rushing through the passage, but she could already see the Black Land’s army when she stepped into the passage. They must be here by now. She so badly wants to see what is happening there, how the battle is going, but she needs to seem calm. If she shows her fear, the entire group might dissolve into a panic.

Oh, how she hates that she is running. This is only happening because of her – thrice over. They are here because of her, it is her Ravenia is after and the Alliance Fae only initiated this to get to her. Yet she is running while Drakon and his soldiers are risking their lives.

They keep walking. It must have been half an hour by now, yet the opposite shore is still so very far away. Miryam dares a look over her shoulder, but she can’t make out any specifics of what is happening in the battle.

She should have insisted on staying. Even if she would have been of little use in battle, anything would be better than running away, not knowing what is happening or who might be dying. She is the one the Alliance is trying to kill, the one Ravenia will be after.

She promised Drakon, though. She could have insisted on staying and he wouldn’t have been able to stop her, but she didn’t and now, she cannot break her promise.

She bounces the little girl who is sitting on her shoulders around a bit and makes a point to praise and thank her for the beautiful braids. The mother offers her a tired smile, and Miryam smiles back and hands her her waterskin.

After another few minutes, a young man comes up to her and offers to carry the girl for a while. Miryam accepts gratefully – her shoulders are beginning to ache – and lets the girl climb from her back to his.

The girl’s weight has just left her shoulders when a movement in the strings attracts her attention. Something is happening there, something other than the Seraphim magic that is thick in the entire passage. Miryam recognizes the pattern; someone is winnowing into the passage. She turns around to the soldiers that are following their group as a last line of defence and opens her mouth to warn them, but before she so much as gets a word out, a group of soldiers winnows to the end of their group.

Black Land soldiers. Hundreds of them, far, far more than the few Seraphim soldiers that were left to protect them.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still as Seraphim and humans alike stare at the enemies that just winnowed into their midst. Then, the Black Land soldiers attack.

Within moments, the back of the group descends into complete chaos. There are too few Seraphim soldiers here to hold off the enemies and they quickly break through. The formerly orderly retreat falls apart the moment the first soldiers appear. The humans aren’t armed – their only chance is to run, which they do. Crammed as they are in the narrow passage, though, there is no way for them to escape their Fae pursuers, much as the people in the back may be trying to push forward.

Miryam is completely helpless. She doesn’t have a weapon save for a small dagger, and even if she had one, she wouldn’t be able to use it. And her power, drained as it is, will be of little use, either. Her abilities are made for ranged attacks, not for the thick of battle and she doesn’t have enough reserves left to chase off this many soldiers.

Suddenly, there are three Seraphim next to her. One of them pushes her back from the approaching enemies, the other following behind, weapons drawn. As soon as they are a few feet away, the one who tried to push her reaches for her like he wants to pick her up and fly her out.

“What are you doing?” She snaps, pushing his arms away. “There are people dying! I can take care of myself, go help them!”

They exchange a look, then do as she says, disappearing back into the battle. Miryam loses sight of them within moments. Around her, the other humans are still pushing to get away from the fighting, and Miryam gets dragged along, unable to fight the pull of the crowd.

Screams. The clang of weapons. Somewhere next to her, a Fae soldier breaks through the group, his sword coming down on a human man. Miryam tries to move over to help, but there’s no getting through the crowd, and it’s too late anyways. A moment later, they are out of sight.

Miryam is still looking over her shoulder when she suddenly gets pushed against something in front of her. One of the jagged rocks poking out of the ocean floor is rising up in front of her, and Miryam has to quickly grab for it to keep from being pushed to the ground. She clings on to it to avoid the crowd sweeping her along further.

Now, finally, she can breathe again. Distantly, she realizes her arms are trembling. Looks like her lack of battle training is showing. She is completely out of her depth in this situation, has never been in the thick of battle like this.

Grabbing onto the rock above her, Miryam pulls herself up a few inches until she can look out over the battle. From up here, it looks even worse. The entire battlefield has dissolved into chaos, no clear lines to be seen. If not for the Seraphim’s white wings shining in the light, Miryam wouldn’t have been able to make out who is on which side at all.

Closest to Miryam, things look the worst (or maybe that’s just because she is closer to the carnage here). While further ahead, the Seraphim are still trying to hold off the majority of the Black Land soldiers, here, the ones who made it through are killing their way through the fleeing humans. Miryam looks around, eyes jumping from one horror to the other, until her eyes settle on one figure.

There, surrounded by a group of Black Land soldiers in gold-adorned armour, is Ravenia.

Miryam freezes against her rock, staring at the Queen of the Black Land. Ravenia is wearing an ornate armour, a spear at her side. It’s the first time Miryam has ever seen her in armed.

She didn’t expect Ravenia here, thought she would send her soldiers ahead while staying safe on the shore as she usually does. But the Queen must have decided to come herself, witness her revenge first-hand. Maybe she even came here, to the back of the human group, in hopes of finding Miryam. That sort of petty revenge would be just like her.

If Miryam was smart, she would run. Ravenia hasn’t seen her yet, and surrounded by the other humans, she might get away unnoticed. With her power so drained, she can never hope to best Ravenia and her soldiers in battle, and there are too few Seraphim here to hold them back. She should run now, while she still can.

But around her, her people are being killed, and Miryam cannot go while they are in danger. She can’t leave them to face the enemy alone, or allow any more of them to die so close to freedom.

She looks around, scanning the battlefield for anything she could use for a spell. She doesn’t have enough power left to be able to make any meaningful contribution out of her own reserves, she’ll have to use what is there. Stuck in the middle of the ocean as she is, “what is there” boils down to lots of water and wind magic, both locked in battle, the ocean continuously trying to reclaim the passage, the wind pushing it back.

Messing around with that fragile dynamic while standing in the middle of said passage seems like a bad idea. Unfortunately, Miryam doesn’t have any good ideas at her disposal right now.

With a whispered order, she reaches out towards the magic and tugs a few of the tiny strings moving through the air in her direction. They move unwillingly, not designed to do anything but what the magic-users commanding them want.

The effect is immediate. A wave of water breaks out of the left wall of water and goes crashing down into the bulk of Ravenia’s soldiers. It doesn’t hit, shields going up to intercept it before it reaches the Black Land soldiers. Water hits fire and evaporates on impact, turning into steam. Tons of water crash into the shields, and within a moment, the air is thick with steam, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in the distance.

Miryam lets the wind magic snap back into place, forcing the remaining water back behind the walls of magic but taking care to keep enough control that the wind doesn’t blow the mist away immediately. On the ocean floor, mist is now hanging so thickly it is difficult to see more than shapes. Miryam can make out auras, the movements of magic and the strings on top of that, but for everyone else, fighting has just become a whole lot more difficult.

This, at least, should give the other humans some cover to get away. But the Fae will still be able to give chase and with their better sight and hearing, they will have it easier in the mist.

Miryam hesitates, torn. The mist is not enough to protect her people – as long as she doesn’t find a way to chase the soldiers off, nothing will be able to do that. Yet she is quickly running out of both options and magic, and any moment she lingers increases the risk of getting caught. She needs to think of something, and quickly.

No matter how hard she tries, she cannot come up with a functional way to attack and defeat this many soldiers, not with the state her power is in. But maybe making them believe she can kill them would already be enough to chase them off. After what she did to her country, they are probably already scared of her – she just needs to play that to her advantage.

Still clinging on to the rock, fingers turning stiff with cold, she begins whispering, making up the spell as she goes along. It doesn’t need to be efficient, after all, just flashy.

Around her, the mist seems to solidify in some places. Slowly, shapes form. They are blurry, impossible to make out clearly, but they vaguely resemble great beasts. On Miryam’s command, they go shooting towards the Black Land Fae, seemingly at full run, maws opening as if to swallow them whole.

This causes quite some panic. Miryam can see some of the Fae turning and running, seemingly without thought of their magic. Others regain enough of their senses to set up wards. With a muttered order, Miryam sends those wards shattering.

The strain of it makes her double over, she nearly falls off her rock. Alright. She won’t be able to do that again any time soon, this much is sure. Even the mist spell is already beginning to slip her grasp, some of the mist beasts collapsing in on themselves.

Most of the Black Land Fae don’t seem to notice, though. They are already panicking, maybe thinking of water turning to blood and fire raining from the sky and wondering how they could ever be stupid enough to mess with someone capable of a curse like this. Some winnow out right away. Others merely turn and run, stumbling around in the mist, shying away from the remaining mist beasts. Only a few remain, but they seem unsure as well – or maybe they are simply blinded by the mist, confused further by the shades moving through it. Some humans and Seraphim are there as well, but they seem to be using the cover to get out of here and make for the shore.

Miryam slides off the rock and leans her back against it, panting. A thin trickly of blood is running down her nose and she slowly wipes it away, watching the auras of the Black Land soldiers disappear in the distance.

She can leave now, she thinks. She has done all she can, given her people all the advantages she could. But the world is spinning around her and without the stone at her back, she doesn’t think she would even be able to keep upright.. She closes her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing. Come on, she tells herself, you’ve been through worse. Just get to the shore first, then you get to relax all you want.

Slowly, the pain shooting through her begins to recede. Miryam takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. She straightens and pushes herself off the stone, turning around – and comes face to face with Ravenia.

The Queen of the Black Land is standing only a few feet away. There is blood matted across her brow and she has a wild look in her eyes. In her right hand, she still holds her spear, although its tip is now dark with blood.

For the longest moment, they simply stare at each other. The ocean around them seems to disappear, the shouts and the noise of the wind fade into the background. It’s like they are alone on the battlefield. Just the two of them, and the weight of all the history between them.

Miryam stares at Ravenia, seeing years of suffering and pain, thousands of dead, a childhood destroyed and a life shattered. She sees everything wrong with this world, everything she was fighting against, everything she defeated. (She likes to think that when Ravenia looks at her, what she sees is the change she was unable to stop. The end of her era, the beginning of a world she will never have a place in.)

Maybe it was always going to end like this. The two of them, facing each other on the final battlefield of the war. No other players around anymore, just the two of them in one final confrontation. But what Ravenia doesn’t see, doesn’t want to believe, is that Miryam has already won. Her people made it out, she won the war. Ravenia is already destroyed, and all she can hope to gain from this is petty revenge – and even that won’t be her own but Shey’s, reducing her, at the very end, to a mere instrument in someone else’s game.

Miryam has already won. And Ravenia can only lose, no matter what she does.

They both jump into motion simultaneously. Miryam twists her fingers, making a dark blue string appear. Without her noticing, it wraps itself around Ravenia’s ankles, binding her in place.

Ravenia throws her spear.

Miryam can see it flying towards her, too fast for her to dodge, but in the first moment, she still thinks it missed. There is no pain, only the sensation of being pushed backwards a bit. She stumbles and slowly looks down. The spear’s shaft is poking out of her chest.

Slowly, Miryam looks back up at Ravenia. The Queen is watching her, eyes turning triumphant as her gaze settles on the spear poking out of Miryam’s chest. Then, the wind blows a wave of mist between them, obscuring Ravenia from view.

Only then does the pain hit. Miryam gasps, stumbling another step. She reaches out and her hand finds solid rock. She leans against it, still gasping for air. The pain is different from any she has ever felt before. Duller, somehow, but linked to the terrible, wrong sensation that there is something in her body that shouldn’t be there and it’s killing her.

Another gust of wind blows the mist away, and there is Ravenia, still standing in the same spot as before. Miryam’s palms are quickly turning sweaty and her breath grows shallow. Pain races through her chest, but she refuses to collapse before Ravenia.

“So you’re playing assassin for the Alliance now,” she says, meeting Ravenia’s eyes. Her voice is tight, but at least somewhat calm. “I would have thought this was below you.”

“Big words,” Ravenia replies. “But all I can see is that you’ve lost. You’re as good as dead, and you have lost.”

Miryam shakes her head. Against all reason, a laugh escapes her, immediately followed by a stab of pain, hotter than any before, making her gasp.

“You understand nothing,” she whispers. “All this, just for a bit of pointless revenge?”

It’s pathetic, really. She never knew Ravenia was this pathetic. Just an arrogant, cruel woman, clinging on to power with both hands. Needing to turn to revenge when all else fails because she is unable to face the reality that she lost.

“All this,” Ravenia hisses, “to make you pay. To see you lose.”

Miryam leans harder against the stone. She is beginning to tremble, and her legs threaten to give out from under her, but she still smiles at Ravenia. “But I haven’t lost,” she says. “Don’t you understand? My people are free, your country in ashes, and slavery is over. I still win.”

She can see the fury flash over Ravenia’s face, making her dark eyes flash.

“I’ve killed you,” she snaps.

“Try to winnow out, then,” Miryam replies. “You’ll find that I’ve killed you as surely as you’ve killed me.”

She can see the string she bound Ravenia with strain as she tries to winnow. Tries and fails, the ward string dragging her back before she even fully vanishes. Leaning against her stone, Miryam watches Ravenia’s expression change. Smug satisfaction gives way to confusion, then to panic, eyes widening and calm shattering as clearly clearly realizes what it means for her to be trapped her along with everyone else.

Soon enough, the water will come down again. And when it does, Ravenia will drown along with everyone else

“I win,” Miryam repeats.

Ravenia doesn’t even seem to hear her. In a desperate attempt to rage against the truth Miryam revealed, she tries to winnow again. When it fails, she spins around, an animal in a cage looking for a way out. Her eyes are wide with panic as she seems to realize that there is none.

Miryam smiles bitterly, trying to cling on to the feeling of triumph the sight summons no matter how shallow it may be. Ravenia looks back at her once more before turning to run after her soldiers, and Miryam hopes that is the sight she will think of before she drowns – Miryam standing there, smiling at her defeat.

As soon as she is gone, though, the feeling of triumph fades. Miryam allows herself to slide to the ground, leaning her back against the stone. Her face twists in pain and she lets out a sob. Trembling fingers find the hilt of her spear, but Miryam doesn’t quite dare touch it. Gasping for breath, she stares down at the spear poking out of her chest.

She suffered her fair share of injuries already and is well-accustomed to pain. But this… this feels different. It’s like her body is somehow aware that this injury is fatal, that the bit of wood poking out of her chest is about to kill her, and sending her into a panic accordingly.

Against her will, her mind begins to race through ways to still save herself, even though she knows that it’s hopeless. If it was someone else with the same injury, she might be able to save them – emphasis on the might, though – but not on herself. She cannot move enough to patch up the bleeding, and by now, her fingers are cold and shaking, which is not a good sign. And if she were to pull out the spear, she would pass out within seconds. Besides, even if she was able to stop the bleeding, what good would it do? Instead of bleeding out, she would simply drown.

Miryam wraps her fingers around the spear’s handle. Maybe she should pull it out. She will die anyways. Why bleed out slowly over minutes, or drown when the ocean comes crashing down around her? It would be faster that way.

Her fingers tighten around the handle, but for all she tries, she cannot bring herself to pull it out. So much for being prepared to die. Her grip loosens and she sobs.

She closes her eyes, trying to ignore her racing heart. (Really, you’d think that it would have the sense to beat more slowly. Doesn’t her body realize that this is just making her bleed out more quickly?)

Desperately, she tries to calm herself. There’s no need for her to panic – what happened cannot be changed now, and anyways, does she really get to complain? She got everything she wanted. (Well, except for a chance to live, but if her biggest goal had been to grow old, she really shouldn’t have started this war.) Her people are free and safe, every last one of them. The war is won, slavery abolished, Ravenia defeated and soon dead.

There will be peace. And the sad truth is that her death was the requirement for peace to be possible from the beginning. Shey and the other Fae would never accept any other outcome. As long as she lives, they will keep trying to kill her, and maybe drag other people into it as well. Really, her dying in this battle is the ideal outcome.

She always knew she was ready to die for this. Then why can’t she just take it calmly now?

Maybe she would be able to accept it if it wasn’t so unnecessary, so unfair. For all that she tries to tell herself that she is dying so that the other humans could get away, that isn’t entirely true. They wouldn’t even be here if not for the Alliance Fae and their stupid, irrational paranoia.

It’s unfair and it’s cruel and Miryam doesn’t want to die. Not here, not like this. Not all alone in the middle of the ocean, bleeding out slowly with no one she cares about there to hold her hand as she dies. Leaving Drakon behind to probably wonder for the rest of his life if she went against his back and did this on purpose.

She doesn’t want to die at all, if she is being honest. That’s why she can’t bring herself to pull out the spear. She so very badly wants to live, to see everything she fought for become reality. But she won’t get to, just like Jurian didn’t get to, and it isn’t fucking fair.

----

Nephelle always hated watching battles. When she was younger, after she had first gotten together with Sinna, it was unbearable. Watching her partner go out to battle while she was left behind, useless, unable to participate always felt terrible. Looking back, this, more than anything else, was what initially made her want to join the army. She didn’t want to be left behind, wanted to be by Sinna’s side and prove to her that she could keep up.

It took the war for her to get over that feeling and realize that just because Sinna is a soldier, it doesn’t mean she has to be one as well to be worth something or equal to her. During the last battles, it was easier to stay behind, but this time, knowing how bad their odds are, it’s a nightmare again.

Nephelle ended up in the middle of the human column, together with a few of the other cartographers. A few feet into the passage, she found an elderly man with a stiff left leg and has been helping him along since. With him leaning on her shoulder, she kept walking, all the while trying desperately to keep her eyes trained on the faraway shore instead of looking back towards the battle and imagining the people she loves dying while she is running.

Nephelle is three-fourths through when a commotion happens at the end of the group. People begin to push, forcing those at the front to move faster as well. Nephelle tries to turn around, to see what is happening, but she gets pushed along in the general chaos. She only barely manages to keep a hold of the man she was helping and now has to support a good proportion of his weight. She doesn’t think anyone who is close to her knows what is going on, only that apparently something happened and they need to get away.

It’s a miracle, of perhaps proof of how much the humans care for each other, that things do not spiral into a full-fledged panic. Even in their fear, the humans still watch out for each other. No one gets trampled underfoot or left behind.

After several minutes of running, pushing, tripping, Nephelle gets swept onto the beach. Most people keep moving further inland, like they need to get away as far as possible from the ocean to be safe, but Nephelle now pushes her way towards the edge of the group. She deposits the man she was helping in the sand by the side of the ocean, pausing to ask if he is alright (his is) or needs any further help (no, thank you, he can get by on his own now). Then, she circles back towards the water. By the side of the passage, she stops, standing up on her toes to look out over the people who are still pouring out of the passage.

It takes a while for her to spot a familiar face, a Seraphim soldier who works as a captain under Sinna. He must have been at the back of the group, tasked to protect them should things go wrong, if he is already back at the shore.

“Likian!” She shouts as loudly as she can. (Which is very loud. Sinna once showed her how to make her voice loud enough to be heard over the battlefield.) “Likian, over here!”

Likian looks around, spots Nephelle and pushes his way through the crowd over to her, people making way far more easily for him than they did for her. He has a cut at his brow, and a second one along the side of his wing.

“What’s going on back there?” Nephelle asks. Have you seen Sinna?

Likian shakes his head. “It’s a mess,” he pants. “Complete chaos. Ravenia’s soldiers are everywhere. She had some of them winnow in, and they attacked the back of the column. We only barely made it out.”

Nephelle’s stomach twists. Miryam was at the end of the column. She looks around, trying to find her, but in the chaos, it is nearly impossible to make out individual people. Still, shouldn’t Miryam be easy to spot? If she was here, surely she would be trying to get some sort of order into that chaos, calm people down, anything like that.

“What about Miryam?” She asks. “Have you seen her?”

Likian shakes his head. “Some of the humans were asking after her as well,” he says. “I haven’t seen her, though. But everything was so chaotic, I wouldn’t put too much stock in that.”

“But she should be here already, shouldn’t she?” Nephelle presses.

There are fewer people streaming out of the passage now, and still, no sign of Miryam. Of course, she might still be at the very back, trying to help the slowest of the humans. Still, Nephelle should be able to spot her from here, and she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

“You need to go back,” Nephelle says, turning to Likian.  “Take some other soldiers with you, too, to help you search.”

Likian backs away a step, like she has suddenly grown fangs. “I’m not going back in there,” he says. “The ocean will be coming down any moment. Do I look like I want to drown?”

“Someone needs to go looking for her!” Nephelle snaps, voice growing loud. A few of the nearby humans turn to stare at her.

“Why? She either made it out alive along with the rest, or she’s dead. Either way, me getting myself killed won’t help her.”

Nephelle takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I think,” she says softly, voice biting, “that you are a coward.”

Usually, calling men cowards gets them to do whatever you want them to. But Likian must be truly terrified of going back into the ocean, because he barely reacts at all.

“And I think that being General Sinna’s partner does not make you a general yourself, so you don’t get to give me orders,” he says, not quite sharp yet but certainly not pleasant either. “We came here,” he continues, each word pointed, “because Princess Miryam asked us to. I fought in Rahine, and I fought on that damned ocean floor so that the mortals would be able to escape, and I never once complained. I did it gladly. But I’ve got a family at home, and I will not throw my life away here for the off-chance to safe one person, even if she is our Princess.”

Nephelle resents the fact that she can’t even hate him for it, with this reasoning. In his situation, she might even choose the same way. But Miryam isn’t just her Princess, she’s her friend, and Nephelle will never simply leave a friend behind to die. She looks around, but Drakon and Sinna, who would listen to her, are likely still at battle and she can’t make out any other familiar faces. She could go looking for other soldiers, see if she finds one who is willing to take the risk, but that would take too long.

“Fine,” she says, turning away from Likian and stretching her wings, the left one aching with the movement. “Then I’ll go.”

Before she so much as makes it one step, Likian is next to her, grabbing her by the arm. “Come on, Nephelle, don’t be stupid,” he says. “For all you know, she might be here already, perfectly fine. In this chaos, who would notice? No use throwing your life away like this.”

Nephelle shakes his arm off. “If you don’t want to go, fine. But don’t you dare try to stop me.”

She flares her wings, ignoring the pain shooting through the muscles in the left one, and takes off. Below her, there are still humans hurrying for the shore. Some of them shoot Nephelle looks as they pass, likely wondering why she is flying in the opposite direction, but none of them call out to her. And for all that she looks, Nephelle can’t make out Miryam anywhere among them.

She stays close to the ocean floor, low enough that she won’t miss anyone who might be injured down there. Down here, she needs to circle around jagged rocks poking out of the ocean floor, but she doesn’t dare to fly higher for fear of passing Miryam without noticing. By now, there are no humans running below her anymore, only the bare ocean floor. On either side of her, the ocean is raging, walls of water reaching far into the sky and straining against the barriers that are pushing them back.

It is cold down here, far colder than on the shore, and the wind that’s keeping the water at bay makes flying more difficult. Within minutes, the muscles in Nephelle’s wings begin to cramp up, pain shooting through her wings and down her back. Around her, there is only the endless ocean.

Maybe this was a mistake. For all she knows, Miryam may be at the shore already, safe with the others. And Sinna will be at the shore soon, too. Nephelle wanted to be there to welcome her. What if Sinna is back before her and notices she is missing? She will be worried sick. Nephelle doesn’t want her to worry – she knows all too well what it is like to know a loved one in danger – and she certainly doesn’t want to die out here and leave Sinna behind.

She looks back at the shore over her shoulder. It is so far away now. She’s the only living creature around by now, but below on the floor, she can make out the first corpses and in the distance, she can see the battle raging. Now, she’s already gotten this far. Turning around without checking for Miryam would be stupidity.

She dives lower still, scanning the motionless bodies on the ground. Humans. Seraphim. Black Land Fae. Nephelle takes care not to look at any of the faces for too long. Just check if she spots Miryam and move on. She doesn’t want to know if she knows any of the dead lying there, all she cares about is if there’s anyone down there that can still be saved.

All she finds are corpses, though. She glances back to the safety of the shore, so far away now. She is getting closer and closer to the battle and if she goes any further, she will risk getting caught in the outskirts of the fighting. She really should turn around. Likian was right. Miryam isn’t here, or if she is, chances are she is dead. All Nephelle will accomplish is getting herself killed.

Wings dragging with the weight of failure, Nephelle turns to the right, flying a wide circle around one of the bigger rocks poking out of the ground. She just makes to fly higher when she notices the figure leaning against it.

“Miryam!” Nephelle lets herself drop to the ground, feet away from her.

Miryam opens her eyes just as her feet touch the wet sand. “Nephelle?” She asks. Her voice sounds rough.

Nephelle’s eyes wander from her face to her chest, where her clothes are soaked red with blood. A jagged bit of wood is poking out of her chest, the broken end of some spear or arrow.

Nephelle’s stomach turns and she has to bite back a gasp. She spent long enough with the army to know a potentially deadly injury when she sees one. Instinctively, she takes a step forward, raising her hands to do something, but she is no healer. She does not have the necessary skills to heal an injury like this, and if she tries, chances are she will only make things worse.

Miryam pushes herself upright, hissing in pain. “Why are you here?” She asks. “I thought…” She gasps slightly, briefly closing her eyes. “I thought you escaped with the others.

“I…” Nephelle clears her throat, forcefully tearing her eyes away from the spear poking out of Miryam’s chest. “I was looking for you.”

She takes a deep breath, shaking off her shock. All she needs to do is get Miryam back to the shore. They have healers there. They can get the very best healers, and she will be fine.

“You should go,” Miryam says.

“Yeah, we should both go.” Nephelle looks around, searching for anyone to help and finding nothing but corpses. Alone, she can’t carry Miryam. “Come on,” she says, offering her hands. “Get up. We need to get you to the shore.”

Miryam shakes her head. Her entire body is trembling slightly and her face seems bloodless. “I can’t.”

“Well, you need to,” Nephelle says, glancing over towards the battlefield. What if enemy soldiers find them here like this? “They’ll let the ocean come down soon enough, and I don’t want to be here when it happens.”

She offers Miryam a hand again, but she just shakes her head. “You should leave me. Go save yourself while you still can.” She stares down at her blood-stained chest. “Just… tell Drakon that I didn’t mean for this to happen. And my people… he needs to keep them save, he…” She shakes her head, clearly struggling to focus. “He promised me… tell him to remember what he promised.”

“You tell him yourself.”

“Nephelle, this is a fatal injury,” Miryam says. She likely meant to sound firm, but her voice is trembling as hard as she is. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Like hell. “I flew all that way here to find you,” Nephelle says. “If you think I’m going to turn around and leave you to die now, you ought to think again. So we can die here together or we can try to get to the shore.”

This time when Nephelle holds out a hand to help Miryam up, she takes it although Nephelle still basically has to drag her to her feet and then wrap an arm around her waist to keep her upright. Miryam’s face is tight and she looks so pale that Nephelle fears she might pass out any moment. Her tunic seems to turn an even deeper shade of red.

“We’ll take it slow,” Nephelle says, trying to fight her rising panic. She looks over at the shore. It’s only a few miles, but with Miryam, it might as well be fifty. “It isn’t that far,” she lies and starts walking, carrying Miryam along more than anything else.

----

The battle is pure chaos. There are no clear lines, no formations or strategies, nothing. It is everything Drakon hates about battles, only increased tenfold. He doesn’t know how long it has been going on, only that they have been pushed back far already, that the ground is littered with the dead and dying and that he is beginning to shake with the effort to keep his power controlled.

Around him, his soldiers don’t seem to fare much better. Many of them are panting, sweat running down their temples, as they desperately try to keep both the water and the enemies at bay. Flapping his wings a few times, Drakon propels himself a few feet into the air, trying to get an overview of the battlefield.

The fighting is so chaotic that he cannot make out much, but from up here, he sees that they have been pushed back until close to the middle of the passage already and are currently being swarmed completely. Not much longer and the Black Land soldiers will break through entirely, and they cannot allow that.

When he looks to the other side, he sees that most of the humans have already made it to the shore. A few are still in the passage, but they will make it to the shore within the next few moments.

They cannot wait any longer. They need to retreat now or risk losing everything.

Drakon whistles once, sharply, the signal quickly picked up by his captains and commanders. One by one, the Seraphim begin to disengage from the battle and shoot into the air.

At the far end of the passage, the ocean starts crashing down.

----

They’ve only made it twenty feet and Miryam looks like she might collapse any moment when they hear a roaring sound behind them. Nephelle turns around, pulling Miryam along with her, just in time to see the ocean at the far end of the passage come down. The noise is deafening, spray glinting white in the sunlight.

For a moment, Nephelle is frozen in fear. Mesmerized, she watches tons of water come crashing down to the ocean floor with all the force of a tornado.

Then, the fear settles in like a punch to the gut. The ocean is crashing down, they are miles from shore and in minutes at most, the place where they are currently standing will be hundreds of feet under water.

She can fly out. Miryam can’t, though. She can’t even walk.

“Go,” Miryam says, voice barely more than a whisper. “Please.”

Nephelle shakes her head. The only way out is flying. Another Seraphim might stand a chance of carrying Miryam – Sinna occasionally carries her into the air – but Nephelle certainly can’t. And yet, flying is their only chance.

Looking up, she can see Seraphim rising into the air from the battlefield. For a brief moment, Nephelle hopes that one of them might spot them down here and come to help, but they fly high above the ocean and seem to have eyes for nothing but the distant shore. Sinna is with them, that much is sure. When she gets to the shore, she will notice Nephelle isn’t there and she will be worried sick. Just like Drakon will worry about Miryam.

She should at least give it a try. Nephelle tries to readjust her grip on Miryam, making her gasp in pain.

“I’ll try to fly us out,” she says. “It’s the only way we’ll be fast enough.”

“Nephelle, please,” Miryam whispers, but doesn’t say anything else. Nephelle very purposefully does not contemplate how badly she must be doing if she isn’t arguing harder.

She needs to get them out of here. And the only way to do that is to fly them both out. She flares her wings, flapping them twice, thrice, and then takes to the air.

She only barely manages to not fall right back to the ground. Pain shoots through her left wing, muscles cramping as it nearly gives in under her, and she wobbles under Miryam’s weight. Desperately, she flaps her wings, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t get them more than two feet into the air. Getting them high enough that they are out of the water’s path like this is about as likely as Miryam suddenly growing wings and flying on her own.

“You’re heavier than you look,” Nephelle gasps, mostly to distract herself from the pain.

Miryam doesn’t reply and Nephelle’s heart clenches. Her hands are already slick with blood.

“Alright,” she gasps, flapping her wings in spite of the pain shooting through her body. “It’s only two miles.” Two miles over the ocean floor, with jagged rocks barring her way and tons of water only waiting to come crashing down on them. “I can fly us two miles.”

After that, Nephelle doesn’t say anything else, all her strength going into keeping them in the air. Her breath is soon coming in ragged gasps, her wings are burning, but somehow, she keeps herself and Miryam flying. It’s all she can focus on, one wingbeat after the other. Don’t crash into the jagged rocks standing everywhere. Sometimes, they stand close enough together that the tips of Nephelle’s wings brush the stone.

Behind her, the water is still roaring as it reclaims its territory. Nephelle doesn’t dare to look back to see how close to them the approaching death is already. Miryam is limp in her arms.

All she can do is keep flying towards the distant shore, praying that she will be fast enough.

----

Come on, Miryam begs herself. Just a little longer. You just need to hold on for a little bit.

When Nephelle took off, she tried to cling onto her as well as she could, to make herself as light as possible. Now, all she can do anymore is fight against unconsciousness – and she is in the process of losing even that fight.

She is so cold. If she had any strength left, she would probably be shaking, but as it is, she can’t even lift her head to see how far away the shore is. The edge of her vision is swimming, darkness closing in. She can’t feel her fingers anymore.

The small part of her brain that is still able to function rationally tells her that she is fighting a losing battle, that she is already dying and nothing she does will keep death at bay.

Still, though, she fights it. The shore must be so close now, so very close. She could make it, she could…

Her thoughts are beginning to fracture, desperately, she tries to focus.

She just needs to hold on until they get to shore. Then, they… Her people are there. Drakon… He promised… She doesn’t remember what it was he promised, only that it was important. She can make it, she… Not like this, she doesn’t want…

She is so cold. But it barely hurts anymore. Without the pain, it is easier. She’ll will just close her eyes, only for a moment, and then…

----

Drakon’s knees give out from under him as he lands on the shore and he lets himself drop to the ground. He is trembling, his stomach twisting and turning as his power desperately tries to give out. He refuses to let it, though. He doesn’t know if there are people still out in the ocean, people who will die if they just let the ocean crash down too quickly.

For the first time, he probably comes close to understanding what Miryam feels like after using her power. It is not pleasant at all.

Around him, other Seraphim soldiers drop to the ground as well. To his left, one of them throws up. Another presses her fingers against her temples.

Drakon manages to keep the struggle with his power going for another minute or so before being forced to give up. For a few moments, he merely sits on the ground, gasping for air, trying to control his racing heart.

They made it. They actually made it. He stares up at the sky, not quite able to believe that they got out of this alive.

“Drakon!” Sinna calls.

Drakon tries to sit up, nearly falling over again as the world starts to spin around him. Slowly, he looks up at Sinna who is standing in front of him, swaying slightly. Her nose is bleeding and there is panic in her eyes.

“Nephelle is gone,” she says.

“What?” Drakon’s head clears a little, worry taking over, and he slowly pushes himself up to his feet. Nephelle can’t be gone. She was in the middle of the human column, and most of the humans made it to shore by now. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Gone! One of my soldiers told me. And Miryam is apparently unaccounted for as well. They say Nephelle was looking for her.”

“What?” Drakon manages to fight his way to his feet, dread settling in his stomach.

Miryam can’t be unaccounted for. She had guards with her, and she was safe with the other humans. They all made it out alive as far as he knows. Miryam should have been with them. She has to be with them. Chances are she’s just somewhere in this chaos and he simply hasn’t seen her yet. And Nephelle wouldn’t have flown back into the passage on her own. Would she?

“But there isn’t anyone in that passage anymore?” He asks. “Right?”

Sinna doesn’t answer. She is already striding back towards the coastline, humans and Seraphim alike parting to make space for her. Drakon hurries after her, still a little unsteady on his feet.

The passage they made through the ocean is already more than halfway collapsed, more water coming down by the second. The roaring can be heard even from here, drops of water are hanging in the air like crystals, light painting rainbows into the air. A few Seraphim are still flying in the air above the ocean, but at the first glance, the passage itself seems deserted.

Next to him, Sinna breathes in sharply, taking half a step forward as if she’s about to jump into the passage. A moment later, Drakon spots the lone Seraphim flying through the collapsing passage as well. She is flying low, so low her feet can be no more than a foot above the ground, and although Drakon is too far away for him to make out any details, she is clearly carrying another person in her arms.

Nephelle. And Miryam.

Drakon’s heart misses a beat, terror surging through him and chasing away any lingering dizziness. He flares his wings, ready to take off, but Sinna grabs him by the arm before he can actually do so.

“Don’t,” she says, her voice tight with barely-concealed emotion. “Your magic is completely drained – you won’t be able to fly.”

“But we need to do something!”

Nephelle is still a bit ahead of the water that’s rushing back into the passage, but it is catching up quickly. She doesn’t seem to be able to fly any higher, barely seems to be keeping to the air, and she keeps having to circle around the rocks that poke out of the ocean floor. And Miryam… He prays she is unharmed, that Nephelle is only carrying her because she can’t fly and not for some other reason.

He looks around, trying to spot a soldier who is still able to fly. But all Seraphim he sees seem to be in a worse state than he is.

Sinna didn’t even bother to look around. She just keeps her eyes fixed on Nephelle, like she is scared she will disappear the moment she looks away.

“She’ll make it,” she whispers, fingers clenching at her side. “I know she will.”

----

Nephelle can barely keep herself in the air anymore. The pain in her wings is growing by the second. Whenever she thinks it won’t get any worse, it does, and by now, the muscles in her shoulders and back are beginning to cramp up.

In her arms, Miryam is entirely limp. In the beginning, she was still trying to help, to hold on to Nephelle on her own, but now, she hasn’t moved in a while. Nephelle wants to try talking to her, to somehow make sure that she’s still alive, but she can’t spare the breath. She can only pray that Miryam is only unconscious, not…

Just a little longer, she thinks, unsure if she is begging Miryam or herself. You just need to hold on for a little longer, then it will all be fine.

Slowly, painfully, she lifts her had to look up at the shore. It still seems so far away, but it is closer than the last time she looked. And she can make out figures standing by the beach.

She wonders if Sinna is standing there, watching her. The thought makes her tired wings flap faster again. She will get back to Sinna. She will. And then, they are going to get married. In spring, maybe. A spring wedding would be wonderful.

She is sure Sinna is there, watching. Drakon as well, probably. She will get back, and get Miryam back as well. Then, everything will be fine. The war is over and they will go home and never have to fight another battle again.

So Nephelle keeps flying, even as her wings ache and she wants nothing more than to let herself fall to the ground. She doesn’t have the strength left to look back at the ocean that is still chasing her, or forward to the awaiting beach, but she can hear the roaring water getting closer.

She keeps flying. One wingbeat after the other. Until eventually, the wet sand under her gets replaced by the soft, white sand of the beach. Wings giving out under her, she only barely manages to land on her feet and gently deposit Miryam in the sand before collapsing next to her.

Black dots are dancing before her eyes, and for a few moments, all she can do is gasp for air. Her wings cramp up hard and she sobs.

“Nephelle!” Sinna crashes down to her knees next to her, reaching out to cup her face with her hands. “Cauldron, Nephelle. Are you alright?”

Nephelle nods, still gasping, trying and failing to get to her feet. “Miryam…” She manages. Is she alive? She wants to ask. Next to her, she can hear Drakon calling for a healer.

Sinna still understands. Within a heartbeat, she is on her feet and stands next to Drakon who is kneeling next to Miryam. Nephelle doubles over in pain just as Sinna reaches for Miryam, maybe trying to take the pulse or do some first aid. She looks up again just in time to see Sinna slowly shaking her head.

----

A/N (a long one this time): This is the one chapter out of the entire story that was most closely dictated by canon, and I cannot say it made things pleasant. As some of you may know, I am keeping this fic canon compliant mostly as a challenge to myself (as I do not like canon and it is also full of plotholes). This chapter... made it difficult.

For one, having Miryam get killed at this stage, and by Ravenia no less, was not a choice I would have made for multiple reasons. I tried very hard to make it make sense thematically, ease the (what I found to be) absolutely terrible feeling of her getting killed by her former owner of all people and generally make it fit in with Miryam WINNING in the grand scheme of things. I hope I succeeded.

That aside, I had to make a few exceptions on my rule to stick to what canon dictates (if with a few twists) because some of the details canon offered made no sense, and others were part of a narrative that (to me) felt somewhat ableist in its implications and that I refused to include in my writing. (I’m referring to both Nephelle’s disability basically disappearing and her somehow being able to fly completely perfectly and without any issues (adrenaline will make lots of things possible, but that is too much) as well as that entire business with her (in canon unnamed) lover asking her to marry her directly after, which felt like it was some sort of “reward” for her being able to do something her disability normally made impossible.) In general, there is a lot wrong with that entire sequence in canon, and I tried to ease/change what I could.I hope you liked how I chose to handle it.

Finally, once again, a huge thanks to @croissantcitysucks. Without his help, I don’t think I would have been able to get through writing this chapter, and a few of the ideas to fix things (or meta stuff) were their ideas. (Seriously, thank you so much, Lyn. You are absolutely amazing <3)

Tags: @femtopulsed @aileywrites

[gryffindorcls]

Plot Twist

Summary: Even though she still gets nervous around him, Marinette has been happily dating Adrien for several weeks. However, after agreeing to a mutual reveal with Chat Noir, Marinette postpones her date night with Adrien. Luckily, he also has plans with a friend that night.

Length: 7,178 words 

Hello, lovely readers!  This was written for the 2020 JV Art and Fic Trade on Discord. There is accompanying art for this fic by @supergirl9130.  Be on the look-out for it soon! Enjoy! 

(Shout out to my beta for this fic, @miss-congeniality-of-ml) 

— AO3

Fanfiction

Marinette snuggled further into Adrien’s embrace, relishing in his warmth. In response, he kissed the crown of her head and sighed.

If someone had told her six months ago that she would be in this position, she would have laughed, cried, and then laughed again. Never in a million years did she actually think that Adrien Agreste would ask her out on a date, let alone want to become her boyfriend.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Adrien whispered into her hair. “Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“You say that now, but you always get cold again when I let go.”

“Then don’t let go.”

“As you wish, my love.” He held her even tighter, sending her heart into a frenzy.

Much to her chagrin, six weeks of dating still hadn’t taken away all of the nervousness that she felt around him. She quickly discovered that Adrien’s love language was all of them; as a result, he constantly showered her with affection, gifts, and attention. While most of the time Marinette didn’t know how much more her heart could take before it exploded, she’d never been happier.

Ever the gentleman, Adrien never showed her anything less than boundless patience whenever she became a blushing, stuttering mess in his presence. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it, and that only made matters worse.

Whenever she had a “Marinette Moment” (as he affectionately called it from time to time), he would simply smile, pull her into an embrace, and whisper reassuring words into her ear. Sometimes, his soothing would work, but other times it sent her heart off to the races, leaving her to slowly melt into a hyperventilating puddle.

“Marinette, breathe.” Adrien’s hand was running up and down her back. “You’re turning redder than you usually do.”

She wanted to kick herself.

It had happened again.

She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath this time. Shaking herself back into reality, Marinette exhaled and buried her face against Adrien’s collarbone, relishing in the soft cotton of his designer t-shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, slowly feeling the embarrassment fade away.

“You know that you never have to apologize when this happens.” He kissed her cheek. “Like I would really complain about having another opportunity to hold you in my arms.”

“Yeah, but it happens all the time.” Marinette pulled away, bit her lip, and looked down at her lap. “Aren’t you getting tired of it?”

Adrien took her hands in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Never. I love everything that makes you, you.”

Had it not been for the warmth that filled her chest upon hearing his declaration, she would have combusted again, but instead, she pulled her hands away and launched herself into Adrien’s arms. “You’re amazing. How did I get so lucky?”

He nuzzled his cheek against the crown of her head. “I ask myself the same question every single day. You are not only the best girlfriend I could have asked for, but you are also the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. My only regret is that I didn’t ask you out sooner.”

Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, Marinette choked on her next intake of air. The coughing fit left her breathless and lightheaded.

So much for staying calm.

With sheer panic in his eyes, Adrien’s hands fluttered around her as she gasped for air. “Are you okay? Do you need water? What do I do? Please be okay!”

Taking a sharp intake of breath, Marinette managed to partially regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

The worry still hadn’t left his features. “You didn’t look fine. At least let me get you some water.”

Adrien hopped off of the couch and ran to the mini-fridge under his desk. Upon returning, he handed her a chilled water bottle and sat down next to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He put his arm around her. “Did you choke on air again?”

She sighed. “No. It was your cuteness this time.”

“Oh, really?” The panic in his eyes melted away, leaving behind a dazzling smile. “Twice in one day. I’m on a roll!”

“You can’t just tell me that I’m the best girlfriend without warning me!”

“I can’t help myself. Complimenting you has become a hobby of mine.”

“Well, your hobby is going to kill me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’m serious! You’ve watched me launch objects across the room and trip on air when I’m around you. One day you’re going to be so adorable that I’m going to get spooked and fall to my death or something.”

“You know I’ll never let anything like that happen to you, right?” Leaning in close, his breath ghosted her cheek. “I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.”

The heat moved to her ears. “Adrien…”

Using his index finger, he tilted her chin upward and captured her lips under his. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” Satisfied, she returned the gesture with an even deeper kiss, eliciting a contented hum from her boyfriend’s throat.

“For now.” His mouth curled into a Cheshire grin as he pulled away from the kiss.

With a pout, Marinette stood up and made her way to the opposite side of the couch. After crossing her arms and sitting down with a playful huff, she turned her head and stuck out her tongue.

“Marinette!” Adrien jutted out his bottom lip and pressed his hands together. “Please come back! The couch is getting cold.”

“Nice try, Agreste. Those kitten eyes won’t work on me!” Marinette looked away and pointed her chin in the air. “Have fun sitting by yourself.”

“NOOO! You have to come back!” Marinette choked back a laugh, and Adrien held his hands up in surrender. “Fine! You win, my love.”

“Good.” She crawled across the couch and resettled herself against his shoulder. “Now, hold still. I’m tired after almost dying.”

“Oh, so now I’m nothing more than a pillow to you? I see how it is.”

“Shhh! Pillows don’t talk.”

“GASP!”

Marinette snorted. “Oh my God...did you really just say the word ‘gasp’?”

“So what if I did?” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back to his side.

“Who even does that?”

“I do!”

“You are such a dork.”

“And you’re surprised?”

No.

At least not anymore.

On their first date, Adrien had spent thirty solid minutes trying to balance a salt shaker on its edge while gushing over his new favorite movie. As she watched him hunch his body over the table, stick out his tongue, and maneuver the salt shaker into the perfect position, Marinette realized that the person who had been taped all over her walls was Adrien Agreste, the perfect model and son, not the boy who sat before her.

No, this was not the Adrien who went to photoshoots, took perfect pictures, and sat up straight during interviews. This was not the Adrien who smiled politely when approached and shook hands with powerful men and women. This was not the fabricated Adrien from the magazine quizzes whose personality was defined by his favorite color and the brand of shampoo he used to wash his hair.

This was the Adrien who had swallowed his pride and admitted that he didn’t know how to make friends. This was the Adrien who had seen a girl standing in the rain and sacrificed his comfort by giving her his umbrella. This was the Adrien who loved video games, whose eyes lit up when he saw a plate of cookies. This was the Adrien she’d fallen in love with, the Adrien she’d lost sight of when her mind had been clouded by infatuation.

That night, Marinette rediscovered what love meant. She’d silently cursed herself for getting lost in the glossy, ten-page spreads and towering advertisements that brandished his face, for jumping to conclusions without knowing the full story.

At that moment, she vowed to learn the full story, to truly get to know the Adrien behind the flashing lights and perfect etiquette. She’d dreamed of a life with Adrien, but in actuality, she’d only dreamed of a life with the idea of him.

Marinette didn’t know that she could love a person more than she already did, but at that dinner table under the soft light of a chandelier, her heart expanded to make way for all that she had to discover about her new boyfriend.

So yeah, he was a dork. A kind, selfless, sometimes clueless, wonderful, and amazing dork.

She smiled and tapped his nose. “No, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

He beamed. “Good! Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“And one day I’ll be able to handle your sweet nothings without turning into a puddle.” Marinette picked the water bottle off of the table and took several long sips.

“Once again, I will repeat this until the day I die. Your blushing is one of the cutest things on the planet. It rivals videos of kittens eating loudly and ducklings wearing hats. You’re absolutely purr-fect.”

Water nearly came shooting out of her nose. “Adrien Agreste, did you just make a cat pun?”

“Yup!” He looked so proud of himself.

All the nervousness from before disappeared, for if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to deal with a cat-pun slinging boy with a smug grin on his face.

“Is there a reason for the puns, or are you just trying something new?”

“I think you meant to ask if I was trying something mew.”

“Nope, that’s all you.” “Well, to answer your question from before, punning is a part of my purr-sonality. C’mon...just admit they’re claw-some.”

“Goodness gracious, just how many cat puns do you have in your arsenal?”

“I can go all night, Marinette.”

“And pray tell, where did you learn all of these puns?”

“I have a few cat pun websites bookmarked on my computer and my phone. I also have a cat pun translator app, and I bought a pun dictionary. But I put all of the best ones I find in my notes app.” He whipped out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held it out for her to see. “I’ve always liked puns, but the cat ones kind of took over.”

She bit back a laugh. “Who are you? Chat Noir?”

An indistinguishable emotion flickered behind his eyes before quickly being replaced by a mischievous glint. “Would that be the worst thing?”

No.

But something like that happening would be too good to be true.

Her partner was the best, and there was no doubt in her mind that whoever was behind the mask was brave, kind, loyal, and an all-around amazing human being, so it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility for the love of her life to be Chat Noir. However, Marinette knew that she wasn’t that lucky. At least the world had been blessed with two equally as amazing blond boys...who both apparently loved puns.

“Not at all.” She smiled and shook her head. “He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“R-really? You think so?” His voice uncharacteristically cracked on the last word of his question.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite hero.”

“Wait, really? It’s not Ladybug?”

“Nope. It’s Chat.”

And how could it not be? Her partner was incredible, and soon she would be able to tell him that not as Ladybug, but as Marinette.

Chat had been overjoyed when she’d suggested a mutual reveal. It was long overdue, and now that she was comfortable as the new Guardian, she was ready. It would make things safer for both of them to know. Not to mention she was excited at the prospect of being able to double down on their search for Hawkmoth.

Oh, how she dreamed of the day that Hawkmoth’s reign of terror came to an end! With her and Chat working together as both heroes and civilians, that dream might finally have the chance of becoming a reality.

If only Adrien could know about my life behind the mask, she mused, He’d probably be super helpful. Perhaps that’s something Chat and I could dis-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing ring.

Adrien picked up his phone, turned off the blaring alarm, and sighed. “As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle, I have to go meet with my work friend now. Are you sure it’s okay that we’re skipping date night for this?”

Oh, right.

He was meeting with a friend today, as well.

She’d been worried about canceling her plans with Adrien, but he’d seemed relieved when she had brought it up earlier that week. When he revealed that he had also made dinner plans and needed to postpone their date, she couldn’t help but marvel at how in sync their lives were.

“Of course! It’s important for us to hang out with other people sometimes.” Marinette looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. “And we’re not canceling date night. We just moved it to tomorrow.”

“That’s right!” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “And to make it up to you, I will make sure that it is the most amazing date you’ve ever been on!”

“Even more amazing than the time you took me to Gabriel’s annual investor’s gala?”

Adrien nodded his head. “Most definitely.”

“Oh?” Marinette bit back a laugh. “And why is that?”

His face fell flat, matching the tone of his voice. “Because my father won’t be there.”

Giving in and falling into a fit of giggles, she held her stomach and doubled over. “Yeah, that would definitely do it! He made things so awkward when he demanded that you dance with that girl.”

“Sadly, it’s not the first time he’s done something like that. He’s always using me as a marketing tool with the investors. Let’s just say that having me spend time with a rich man’s daughter is one of my father’s many business tricks.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “At least he’s out of town for the next few weeks.”

“Yeah, thank goodness.” He leaned in and pecked her on the lips. “It means that I have you all to myself with no interruptions.”

The alarm on his phone went off a second time.

He took a deep breath and tapped the screen. “Except for right now. I really do have to get going soon.”

Marinette took her phone out of her purse and looked at the time. “Me, too. I told my friend to meet me at 6. If I don’t leave within the next five minutes, I’m definitely going to be late.”

“Same.” Adrien pocketed his phone, hopped off the couch, and grabbed his shoes. “So, where are you meeting up with your friend?”

“Oh, at some cafe I suggested. I went there with Kagami a few times.”

“Have we ever been there together?”

“No, but maybe we could go tomorrow! On our make-up date!” Marinette hopped off of the couch and slipped on her flats.

Adrien returned to her side and took both of her hands in his. “I’d like that.”

Marinette had picked the restaurant because she knew Chat would love it, and the more she thought about it, she knew that Adrien would probably love it, as well. “You know, you and my friend...you and he are really similar. I think the two of you would be really good friends.”

“And if we’re being honest, you and my work friend are so alike it’s insane. I guess there’s a reason why I used to be in love with her.” His eyes blew wide as he clasped his hands over his mouth. “I mean…”

Marinette took a step back. “The girl you’re meeting with today...she was the girl you-”

He frantically waved his hands in front of him. “No! It’s not like that anymore! I swear! I don’t love her...I mean, I do, but not like that. She’s like family? Also, she’s dating someone now. She only saw me as a friend, so it didn’t work out.”

“I always thought it was Kagami.” She collapsed back onto the couch, feeling her heart sink. “That means I wasn’t even your second choice. I was your third.”

Adrien scrambled onto the couch. “No, no! Please don’t start thinking like that.”

“But it’s true.” Feeling smaller than she’d ever felt, Marinette buried her head in her hands and pushed back tears that threatened to fall. “I’m sorry you didn’t wind up with either of the people you loved before me.”

“Marinette, I need you to look at me.” He carefully pulled her hands away from her face and held them in a steady grip. “You weren’t my third choice. You weren’t even my second choice. You were my always choice.”

“Your...always choice?” A tear slipped down her cheek and fell onto her lap. “I don’t understand.”

“You know what? Neither did I until the day I found out that you had a crush on me. Sure, I was in love with the girl I work with. It consumed me and didn’t let me think about anything else, but she didn’t want a relationship with me. I was heartbroken, and while I respected her wishes, I didn’t know how I could ever love another person the same way. Then Nino made his little slip-up, and I realized that I already did.” He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

“But…”

“No buts. Please. I care about my work friend a lot, but I am in love with you. Yes, loving her was exciting, like fireworks, but loving you feels like…” His face softened, his gaze filled with adoration. “It feels like home.”

Her breath hitched. “Adrien…”

“Marinette.” The reverence in which he uttered her name set her entire being ablaze.

“You’re going to melt me into a puddle again.”

“Good.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and closed herself around him. Returning the gesture, he drew her into a tight embrace. With his chest flush against her own, Marinette could feel the pounding of his heart and the depth of his breaths.

When he pulled away, she immediately felt the absence of his warmth. She sniffled, and using his thumbs, he wiped away the wetness from her cheeks.

“Now go have fun with your friend.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I want to hear all about it when I call you tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Thanks, you, too.”

“And maybe the both of us could convince our friends to hang out as a group one day...you know, since we’re all so alike.”

“It’s funny. My friend used to have a crush on me, and I turned him down. It sounds like our friends wouldn’t just hit it off, but they might just be made for each other...like you and I are.” She couldn’t help but laugh as she pictured Chat and Adrien’s work partner meeting for the first time. “Too bad my friend is already dating someone.”

“My co-worker is dating someone as well.” Adrien chuckled and shook his head. “But for real, it sounds like they’d be a match made in heaven.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they were actually dating each other?” It was a ridiculous thought, but it felt good to laugh after crying.

Adrien nearly doubled over. “That would be the most insane plot twist. Their relationship would be like one of those romances from a movie or something.”

“Only if it’s a really cheesy movie!” She thought back to all of the times she’d dealt with Chat’s flirtations. “I know for a fact that my friend is the ultimate hopeless romantic.”

“You mean like me?”

“Well, I did say that the two of you were alike.”

“Then I must meet this classy gentleman friend of yours!” Adrien held a finger in the air as he spoke. “He and I shall be the best of friends.”

An infinitely more ridiculous idea popped into her head. “I just thought of an even bigger plot twist!”

“Let’s hear it.”

“What if you’re actually the friend I’m meeting today?”

“Well then, may I suggest the biggest plot twist of all? You and I are actually each other’s friends, and we didn’t know because until today, we’ve been dressing up in disguises every time we’ve met up.”

Marinette slapped her hands against her cheeks and feigned surprise. “Then that would mean that you fell in love with me twice!”

Yeah, it would! And it would also mean that you turned me down because you had a crush on me but didn’t know it.” Adrien flopped dramatically onto the couch. “My poor brain can’t handle the confusion.”

“Same. Can you even imagine trying to keep something like that straight?”

“Nope! As crazy and cool as something like that would be, I’m pretty relieved we don’t have to deal with that kind of mess in our love lives.”

“Yes! Agreed!” But you’re right. I do think that the four of us would have a lot of fun together! I’ll ask him about a possible group hang-out session. I’m sure he’d be down for something like that.” Marinette straightened her purse strap, bent down, and pecked Adrien on the lips. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

As she walked towards the door and out of his room, she heard Adrien call out behind her. “I love you, too!”

Carrying his words with her, Marinette bounced with each step she took. She skipped down the steps of the mansion and basked in the warmth of the summer sun.

How could she have been so silly to think that Adrien loved her less than he did? Of course, he loved her! She could see it in his eyes every time they were together. She could hear it in the way he spoke to her. She could feel it in each kiss.

Adrien Agreste loves her just as much as she loves him, and there was nothing that could ruin the high that came with this knowledge.

Nope. Not a single thing could ruin her day.

She was in love.

Someone loved her back.

And she was about to reveal her identity to Chat Noir.

Marinette froze.

She was about to reveal her identity to Chat Noir.

What was she thinking?

She couldn’t do something like this. She and Chat were fine the way they were. Right?

Opening the clasp to her purse, she ducked into an alleyway and did her best to not hyperventilate. “Tikki!”

Her Kwami zipped into view. “What’s wrong? Is there an Akuma?”

“No...it’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Just…”

“Marinette, what is it?”

She clenched and unclenched her fists several times before finding the words to say. “I can’t do this. No, I shouldn’t do this. How could I have possibly thought that this was a good idea?”

“What?” Tikki squinted. “Are you talking about meeting Chat?”

“Yes! Didn’t you always say that we had our secret identities for a reason?”

“Yes, but that was before. You’re the Guardian now, and you’re supposed to know where every single Miraculous from the Miracle Box is at all times.”

“But what if-”

Tikki cut her off. “No what if’s! This is the right thing to do, and you know it!”

Is it? Worry still clouded her mind. Am I going to regret this?

“I don’t know.” Marinette fiddled with the strap on her purse, fighting the urge to turn around and run home. “What if everything goes wrong?”

“It won’t!” Tikki nuzzled Marinette’s cheek. “Also, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Don’t forget...I already know who Chat Noir is.”

“That’s right! You do!” She cupped her Kwami in her hands. “Will you tell me a little bit about him? It’ll make me feel better about all of this. Please?” Tikki shook her head. “Marinette, you already know everything you need to know about him.”

“I do? But I thought the Miraculous magic was supposed to make that impossible.”

“The suit masks your features, not your heart, and trust me, you know Chat Noir’s heart inside and out. He’s never tried to hide who he was from you.”

“I guess you’re right.” She fixed her eyes on the pavement below. “But I’m still nervous.”

“And you think he’s not? He’s most likely freaking out as we speak, and it would probably make him feel a lot better if you actually showed up.” And once again, Marinette knew Tikki was right.

She had to do this.

If not for herself, for Chat. Her partner deserved the support that came with knowing her identity. She never wanted him to find himself in a position where he needed help from the Guardian and didn’t know where to find it. Chat needed her just as much as she needed him.

And now it was time to meet him.

Doing her best to shake off the sinking pit in her gut, Marinette smoothed out her skirt and straightened her back. “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can!” Tikki threw her tiny paws into the air. “This is so exciting!”

“Sure, if by exciting you mean that nauseous feeling in your stomach, but I can do this. I’m Ladybug.”

“And more importantly, you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You’re the girl who’s an amazing designer, class president, and friend. You are kind, and you always stand up for what’s right.”

Marinette could feel her confidence grow. “That’s right...I am! I’m great in and out of the mask. Just like Chat is.”

“Just like Chat is.” Tikki smiled. “And I’m sure he would love to know your name.”

“And I would love to know his.”

“And all you need to do is walk into that cafe.”

“And find the boy wearing the black hoodie and the silver ring.” Marinette held up her purse for her Kwami. “C’mon, Tikki. Let’s go have dinner with the boys!”

“Boys?” Tikki cocked her head to the side. “As in more than one?”

“Are you telling me that you’re not excited to see Plagg without having to sneak around?” Marinette couldn’t hold back her laughter when she saw Tikki’s face light up before she enthusiastically dove into the bag.

With a renewed spring in her step, Marinette made her way to the cafe. Within minutes, she found herself standing outside the glass door, gripping the metal door handle. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and crossed the threshold.

A blast of warmth hit her face as she walked into the intimate dining space. She scanned the room and felt a rush when her eyes landed on a hunched figure clad in black.

Chat.

If it was indeed her partner, he was sitting at the far end of the cafe, facing the wall and scrolling through his phone. He had a hood pulled over his head, so she couldn’t see the color of the person’s hair. During their last patrol, Chat had divulged that his hair was actually blond so she would recognize him when she saw him. While this stranger wasn’t making it easy, there was almost no one else it could be.

And there was only one way to find out.

It’s now or never, Marinette. She psyched herself up as she walked over to the hooded stranger. Just walk up and ask…

“HEYISTHISSEATTAKEN?” Marinette slapped her hands over her mouth when she realized how loudly the garbled strand of words had come out. “I mean…”

The cafe had gone quiet, and she could feel all eyes on her.

This is a disaster. What am I doing? If this is Chat, he’s going to think I’m such a weird-

“Marinette?” A hand wrapped around hers, bringing her catastrophizing to an end.

Wait.

The hand was warm and familiar. “My sweet, beautiful Marinette. Come here.”

I know that voice.

The hand tugged her closer. “Come here, my love.”

Adrien.

A pair of green eyes filled with love and surprise locked with hers. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Her brain continued to short-circuit. “What are you doing here? And why are you hiding under that hoodie?”

“Ahhh, yes.” Using his free hand, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m meeting my friend here, and I really didn’t want anyone taking pictures of me meeting with a girl who wasn’t you and getting the wrong idea. Having another media presence conversation with my father is the last thing I need.”

“I totally get that. I remember you telling me about the last time your dad sat you down for one of those talks.” She smiled, but confusion continued to swirl around her mind.

She could have sworn it was Chat; however, she couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to her mistake.

“I know it hasn’t even been an hour, but I’m happy to see you.” A gentle kiss pressed against her knuckles. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not following me, are you?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and took a seat across from him. “No, my days of following you are far behind me, thank you very much, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t remind me of all my embarrassing pre-dating decisions.”

“They’re so cute though!” He rested his head in his hands. “I’ve never had someone care about me as much as you do before.”

“Adrien, stop!” Her cheeks started to burn. “My friend is going to be here any second, and I can’t look like a tomato when he shows up!”

“Ohhhh, so that’s what you’re doing here! Wow...what a crazy coincidence!”

“You want to know an even bigger coincidence? My friend said that he was going to be wearing a black hoodie when I met up with him. I thought he was you.”

Adrien leaned back in his chair. “Wait...really?”

“Yeah.” Marinette nodded her head. “He said that he would be wearing a black hoodie with a silver ring. He wanted me to be able to recognize him.”

“Hold on.” He opened and closed his mouth several times before continuing. “Have you never met your friend in person before?”

“Uhhh.” Panic started to settle in her gut, but luckily she knew how to keep a straight face. “Well, it’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, we've met in person, but our outfits were kind of weird.”

“Uh-huh, and what’s your friend’s name again? I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”

“Umm...you see, we’ve only been using nicknames, so I’m not totally sure.”

He held up a hand. “So let me get this straight. You two don’t know each other’s names, and there was a chance that you wouldn’t recognize him because you were dressed weird every time you saw each other before today.”

“Yes.” Marinette looked away. “That’s right.”

“And I’m guessing that means that you gave him something to look for to help him know that it’s you?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

She swallowed, sincerely hoping that she wasn’t giving too much away. “My black earrings.”

His eyes immediately locked on her ears, sending him into a near trance-like state. Several emotions passed over his features before his eyes grew wide.

“Oh my God.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Oh my God.”

Her cheeks grew hotter as his unrelenting stare continued. “I-is there something on my face?”

“It all makes sense now.”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

He grabbed her hands from across the table. “I was close a few times but you always shook me off your scent. You’re so clever, but I guess you already knew that.”

“What are you talking about?” She pulled her hands away. “Adrien, I don’t understand.”

“You’re joking, right?” Without breaking his stare, he leaned in and curled his mouth into a smirk. “Oh wow, you’re not.”

The panic and confusion that clouded her thoughts began to melt away as her annoyance grew.

Why would Adrien freak her out like that and then...laugh?

He was laughing.

Why was he laughing?

“Would you care to share what’s so funny?” she asked with a huff.

He wiped a tear away from his eye as he attempted to compose himself with several deep breaths. “I just can’t believe it!”

“Can’t believe what?”

“Marinette.” He got up, walked around the table, and knelt in front of her. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that you’re waiting in this cafe for a boy in a black hoodie and you ran into me?”

“Yeah, it’s a funny coincidence. Great minds think alike, right? Wait...speaking of friends.” Her eyes scanned the cafe. “My friend still isn’t here.”

“I guess we’ll have to do this a different way then.” Adrien stood up and grabbed his phone off of the table. “Can you do me a favor?”

“If I do, will you finally tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, but I think you’re going to figure it out soon enough.”

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

He pulled her onto her feet. “I’m going to go call my friend because she’s not here yet either. While I’m gone, could you call your friend, as well?”

“What, no!” Marinette did another scan of the cafe before turning back to Adrien. “I have to stay here in case he shows up. If he gets here and I’m not here, he’ll think I stood him up.”

“He won’t. And don’t you want to see if he’s okay?”

She bit her lip and watched as a pair of giggling girls walked through the door. “Yeah, I do.”

Relief washed over his face. “Thank you! And then when our friends get here, maybe we could all eat together?”

“And you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, I promise that if you haven’t figured it out by the time we both return, I will tell you everything, but you’re going to facepalm when I do.”

His sincerity calmed her agitation. “We’ll see about that!”

Adrien laughed again and disappeared into the men’s room. Following suit, Marinette pushed open the door to the ladies’ room, checked that she was alone, and transformed.

Before she had the chance to pull out her yo-yo and make the call, it started to ring.

She grabbed the device and held it up to her face. “Chat, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Can you meet me on the roof?” She could hear a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Right now?"

"Yes."

“Why?”

“Purr-lease, my lady? Do it for me?”

"Is this something I'm going to regret?"

"Nope! I purr-omise. Cat's honor!"

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Awesome! See you there!” Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Great.

Now she had two boys who were acting weird.

After finding a window that was big enough for her to squeeze through, she leaped through the opening and hooked her yo-yo around a chimney. With a tug of the wire, she flew into the air and landed on the edge of the roof.

“Hey, Ladybug!” She whipped around and was met face to face with the most excited-looking Chat she’d ever seen. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You asked me to come up here, you silly cat!” She sheathed her yo-yo and rested her hands on her hips. “What are you up to?”

“Even after saying the same opening line? Really? Nothing?”

“Chat, what are you talking about? I swear, between you and my boyfriend…”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Oh, right.” She pressed her pointer fingers together. “So, my boyfriend is here, and he’s also waiting to meet with a friend, but he’s acting all weird right now...just like you are. But anyway, I know that today is a big deal for us and we have a lot to talk about, but since he’s already here and I don’t want to make it any weirder than it already is, do you think it would be okay if we ate dinner with my boyfriend and his friend?”

He took a step closer. “That sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to.”

“That’s a relief! I was worried you’d get mad and say no.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “But we may have to get our stories straight before we go back in there. I kind of told him that we only knew each other by nicknames until now, so unless we want to tell him that we’re the heroes of Paris, we should do the reveal here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Oh, and one more thing. My boyfriend is kind of famous? He’s Adrien Agreste.”

“The model whose face is plastered all over the city?” Chat’s expression was unreadable. “Does that mean you’re the girl from all his Instagram posts?”

Marinette hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah, that’s me. He’s wearing a hoodie so no one recognizes him, so I hope that’s okay.”

“That's fine with me.” He took another step closer. “So, would you like to do it on the count of three?”

“Do what?” They were so close.

“Drop our transformations.”

“Right! We should do that!”

He was now inches away from her. “On the count of three?”

“Sounds good to me.” Her heart hammered against her chest.

This was it.

It was now or never.

She took a deep breath and counted with him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They spoke their detransformations at the same time, and Marinette’s brain ceased to work as the magical green light left her boyfriend in Chat’s place. Taking a step back, her foot slipped off the ledge, and everything went in slow motion as Adrien yelled, grabbed her hand, yanked her back onto the roof, and fell with her into a heap of tangled limbs.

Without letting go, Adrien sat up and pulled her into his lap. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re alright!”

Still stunned speechless, all she could do was nod.

“See? I told you I’d always be there to catch you when you fall.” He gave her a once over before wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest. “Sorry, I thought it was a good idea. I should have moved us to the middle of the roof.”

Her brain began to sputter back to life.

Adrien was holding her.

And Adrien was Chat Noir.

Which meant Chat was holding her.

Which meant…

“I’m in love with Chat Noir.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, you are.” He rested his mouth against the crown of her head. “And I fell in love with the same girl twice. Best. Plot twist. Ever.”

Marinette thought back to earlier that day, a time that now felt like a thousand years ago. “How did we not see this?”

“I don’t know, but now it all makes sense why you never agreed to go to the movies with me as Chat Noir. We were too busy living in our own movie.”

“We have so much to talk about.”

He held her even tighter. “Yes, we do, but we have a whole lifetime to talk. Let’s just enjoy dinner tonight.”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” She let all of her muscles relax and allowed herself to melt into his embrace. “I’m surprised you’re not freaking out right now.”

“Oh, trust me, I am, but I’m just going to focus on how amazing it is that my girlfriend and my lady are the same person and worry about the rest later. How are you holding up?”

“I’m still processing, but there’s a good chance that I will freak out and scream into a pillow later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“What makes you think that you’ll be there to see it?”

“What makes you think that I’m going to leave you alone tonight?”

“And how do you plan on doing that after I go home after our date?”

“I was thinking that purr-haps a certain cat could come and visit you on your balcony? It sounds a lot more interesting than a boring phone call if you ask me.”

Of course, they were the same person.

It all made sense now.

This was Adrien. This was her Chaton. This was her best friend. This was the love of her life. This was her everything.

“Fine.” She pulled away and tapped his nose with her pointer finger. “But the cat has to bring hot chocolate if he wants to stay.”

“Deal!” He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. “And may I just say that I am so excited for our next patrol.”

“Oh, no…”

“I wonder what the pictures on the Ladyblog will look like when Alya captures Ladybug turning into a blushing, stuttering mess after Chat Noir flirts with her!”

“Don’t think that I won’t end you just because you’re cute.”

“Awwwww!” He nuzzled her nose. “We can be cute together!”

“I said it before, and I'll say it again. You’re going to be the death of me, Adrien Agreste.” She buried her face against his hoodie and shivered.

“Nope! Not on my watch.” He got up and lifted her into his arms, prompting her to squeak. “Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

As he called for his transformation, Marinette found herself unable to look away. Here he was, holding her like she was his world, ready to do seemingly anything for her.

How did she get so lucky?

“Alright, hold on.” She braced herself against him as he leaped into the alleyway below.

He set her down on the ground and called off his transformation once again. After telling Plagg to join Tikki in Marinette’s purse, he took her hand and began walking towards the cafe.

Before they reached the door, Marinette stopped in her tracks. “Hey, Adrien?”

“What’s up?” He turned to look at her. “Did you want to go somewhere else to eat?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I’m just really happy that it’s you.”

“Oh, Marinette.” He pulled her back into his arms and dipped her into a kiss. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but knowing that it’s you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I thought having me as your girlfriend was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Life would be boring if that stayed my favorite thing. Besides, if we’re going to be together forever, do you really want to stay just my girlfriend?”

“We’re only sixteen, Adrien.”

“And that means that we have many, many years to experience even more plot twists and greatest moments with each other.”

His declaration warmed her from her head to her toes, but to her surprise, she managed to keep herself composed and stutter-free.

“I guess that means we’re still in this together? Just you and me?” She snaked her arms around his neck.

“Always.” She couldn’t help but smile as he kissed her again.

[angelsswirl]

Icarus

Summary: You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend.

Or

If you should fall

From your pink sky

Just know you'll fall into my arms, every single night

Icarus babe

Requested: Yes

Word Count: idk, a decent amount?

Title Song: Icarus by Max Lawrence

Rating: Mature, but the smut wont be graphic because I don't think that fits what I've written here. It's more implied than anything

Notes: I hope you enjoy it!

...................

You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend. You weren't. You knew this as fact.

And that isn't to say, it never happened for other people. That it never worked out. No. You just knew that it wouldn't work out for you. Things like that rarely did.

You had prayed, and wished, and hoped that this would all work out. But all of your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And you couldn't say you were surprised.

Park Chaeyoung was your best friend.

She knew that. You didn't have to tell her.

She was the person you told everything to. The person you did everything with. The person you lived for.

Park Chaeyoung was the love of your life.

She did not know that. You weren't going to tell her.

She was the person you dreamed about at night. She was the person you fantasized about in the day. She was the person you breathed for.

But.

She would never know. Because you would never tell her. Living in your truth by yourself seemed a much better option then speaking your truth and being denied of it.

You're not afraid to admit you're not very strong when it comes to love. But you are afraid to admit that for her, you would try to be.

~•~

"Watching you two together makes me sad." Jennie said out of nowhere.

You frowned at her. Rosé had run off to God knows where minutes prior, leaving just you and Jennie standing in the corner of someone else's livingroom during a house party.

It gross and sticky and hot and most definitely not your scene, but Rosé had practically begged you to come along, and return you had practically begged Jennie to be your buffer. And maybe even your sober coach as well.

You didn't trust yourself, alone with Rosé and alcohol in your system.

"What are you talking about?" You and Jennie are standing close enough to each other that you don't have to shout of the pumping bass of som Top 40 song, but you definitely can't whisper either.

Jennie rolled her eyes. She was bored. She really only tagged along to be a good friend. This wasn't her scene either. That was one of the reasons you two got along so well. You both hated and loved the same things.

Sometimes, you think if maybe Jennie wasn't straighter than a steel beam, then maybe she'd be the best friend that you'd have fallen in love with.

But that wasn't what the cards said for you.

"You and Chae. It's like watching those 'arms of the angels' or whatever commercials. You know with the hurt, homeless puppies?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, "Well, I'm sorry I can't serve to be your entertainment 24/7."

"Oh, I didn't say this wasn't entertaining. It's just also sad. Like, what's the hold up, just grab her face and kiss her."

"I'm sure to her it would be like if I just grabbed your face and kissed you."

"No, that would imply she's straight and not head over ass in love with you. Both of which, I know not to he true for her in the slightest."

"She's not in love with me, Jennie."

"And I'm not sweating through my clothes right now." She replied sarcastically.

You only shook your head and took another sip of your lukewarm beer.

"Riddle me this, Y/N. If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she look at you like she would stop breathing if you were ever out of her sight? If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she treat you like you'll melt away? If Chaeyoung isn't love with you then why are you the only thing she talks about when you're not around?"

You shook your head profusely, "Chaeyoung is like that with everyone. She's sweet and nice and flirty with everyone. And that's exactly why it's time for me to finally get over her."

Jennie nodded along silently. You got the feeling she was only pretending to agree with you.

"Ok, well then, you know what the first step to getting over someone is. Get under someone else. How about the girl over there? She's been staring at you since we got here." Jennie pointed to a tall, admittedly beautiful woman across the room from you. She wasn't looking at you at the moment, but you had noticed her staring earlier as well.

Despite all of what you just said, you'd sooner rather die than get over Rosé but you were stubborn and needed to prove a point to Jennie.

"Hold my beer." Jennie did so with a curious smirk on her face.

You walked your way over to the woman, dodging elbows and sloshing drinks. She saw you coming, a soft smile engulfing her lips.

"Hi." She said some what softly.

"Hey."

"Not to be creepy or anything, but I noticed you when you walked in, and I sort of couldn't help myself but to stare at you all night. You're beautiful, "She paused, "My name is Lisa, by the way."

"I-it's not creepy. I'm Y/N....want to dance?"

"I loved to."

You grabbed Lisa's hand and all but dragged her onto the dancefloor. This must have been where the drunkenness set in. You turn around on your own accord, pressing your back into Lisa's front. Swaying your hips to the pounding in your ears, because you definitely cannot hear the music anymore.

~•~

"Where's, Y/N?" Rosé asked Jennie as she met her. She handed her the water she had picked up for the three of them.

Jennie pointed in your direction with a hum.

Rosè watched silently as you grinded on the stranger.

"I was gone for 5 minutes..."

"You snooze, you lose, I guess." Jennie felt bad for acting so cavalier, but at this point, the only way to get you what you wanted was to be completely honest.

Rosé didn't exactly know what to think of that. Or rather it was hard for her to think anything when you were dancing seductively with someone pointedly not her.

The emotions that come with it are hard to pick through as well. Hurt, anger, jealousy, and maybe she's even a bit turned on because she finds you immensely sexy.

Whatever the case may be, she decided that she can't sit around and just watch. No that would hurt too much. She's gotta stop this. She's gotta fix this.

~•~

Chaeyoung was never supposed to fall in love with her best friend. At least she doesn't think she was supposed to. There's no real way to be sure.

And that isn't to say that she's not sure if she loves you. She's 100% sure about that. It's to say that, how is she supposed to know if you love her back.

She had prayed and wished and hoped that you would see the signs that absolutely poured out of her whenever you were near. But, all of her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And she couldn't say she was surprised.

You were her best friend.

You knew that. She didn't have to tell you.

You were the person she confided in. The person who knew her deepest, darkest secrets. The person she breathed every breath for.

You were the love of her life.

You didn't know that. She had been trying to tell you.

You were the person she gave herself pep talks in the mirror for. The person she put on her most expensive outfits for. The person she would live a thousand lives for.

But.

You were oblivious. Sometimes, it seemed like you didn't even want to know. Chaeyoung didn't want to live in her truth by herself. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But keeping that to herself seemed a much better option than making you uncomfortable and losing you as a friend.

She's not afraid to admit she's in love with the very fiber of your being. But she is afraid to admit that, even if she wasn't, you'd still have her wrapped around your finger.

~•~

"Get away from her." It's harsher than she intended and it definitely startled you, but it got the point across.

"Chae?" You questioned as you were practically yanked to Rosé's side.

"Don't grab her like that." Lisa said with a frown.

Rosé's resolve slipped for a second. Maybe she shouldn't have grabbed you but that was besides the point now.

"I said stay away from her."

Lisa put her hands up in mock surrender, "Look. Sorry. Didn't know she had a girlfriend."

"She's no-" Lisa walked deeper into the throng of people before you could finish your sentence.

You turned back to Chaeyoung with a frown.

"What the hell was that, Chae?"

That was a good question. One that she didn't exactly have an answer to. She glanced down to where her hand was still gripping your forearm. She let go silently.

"I-um...."

With a roll of your eyes you pulled Rosé through the crowd. You searched for an empty room, quickly finding an unoccupied bedroom.

You close the door behind you two. Finally, some peace and quiet.

You crossed your arms and looked on expectantly.

"Well?"

Chaeyoung's face scrunched up, like she was losing a hard fought battle with herself, "You don't get it do you?

"Get what? Why you pulled me away from Lisa? No. I don't."

Rosé wiped her hands over her face roughly, "I did that be-because....your mine. Or at least, I want you to be."

Your arms fell to your sides, and your face softened into confusion.

"Huh?"

"God. I thought I was being obvious. I thought I was being so obvious." Chaeyoung shook her hand before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"But, you're flirty with everyone?"

"There's a difference between being nice to someone and being irrevocably in love with you."

You scrambled for any words, any explanation that could help you describe your confusion, and quite frankly you're embarrassment. It seemed as though you had put her in the same position you had thought she put you in.

"I-"

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way. As long as we can still be friends. I just had to finally tell you with words. We can still be friends right?" She doesn't look at you as she speaks. Her eyes casted down onto her wringing hands in her lap.

You move slowly towards her, grabbing her hands in her lap, "I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't say anything before-I thought...I thought...well it doesn't matter what I thought. I just-I love you too. A lot."

Chaeyoung looked up at you, a stray tear falling from her eye, "You do?"

You nod, "I do." You leaned in towards her, taking her bottom lip softly between yours. And she kisses you back, it isn't hungry, but it passionate, and somehow that serves to turn you on more.

You pushed her back slightly and straddled her lap.

Chaeyoung seemed to not know what to do with this turn of events, so you helped her along. Grabbing her hands and placing them on your ass.

"Oh."

You breathed out a chuckle into her mouth, "Yeah. Oh."

Chaeyoung let herself be pushed backwards onto the bed. She grabbed at the zipper to your dress. Fumbling with it until it finally did what she had been willing it today.

She pulled the dress delicately over your head, pushing it onto the floor beneath your feet, "You're beautiful." She whispered into your neck.

You tried to hide your blush by turning your head as much as you could away from her.

"Don't hide from me. Not anymore."

You turned back to her. Your blush covering your face in full force. Chaeyoung leaned in and kissed you again.

You fumbled with her clothing just as she did with yours. A sense of urgency encompassing the both of you. Like you only had so little time to make up for the time you lost.

You're not even sure how you ended up on your back and further up the bed, but you are sure that Rosé touching you, on the outside and inside feels like being thrown head first into a volcano. And you finally come undone it's just like an eruption that you can't (nor want) to stop.

The same goes for Rosé. Having you taste her feels like she's drowning in the world's shallowest pool. It's like swimming in a puddle. Impossible, yet satisfying beyond belief. And when she finally comes undone it's just being evaporated into the summer sun.

When it's all over and you're laying on top, amd underneath, and through each other, Rosé speaks up, "I love you."

"I know." And you did.

Because,

You and Chaeyoung were best friends, and you were always meant to fall in love.

You knew that, like you knew the back of Chaeyoung's hand.