#she could probably be wearing almost any kind of suit combination

[shinraapologist]

Hey there~

I was wondering if you had any HC's regarding what a shincelty wedding may look like? What kind of decorations, flowers or music they might choose or what the dresscode may be?

I DO!!!! i think they would have a very small wedding, but almost everybody they care about is there. i think a wedding for them would come a few years post canon after all the dust of the final arc has settled and everyone involved has at the very least started healing from some of what went down. (none of these characters are ever going to like.... actually fully heal. lmao to the very idea. ) i like to hc that shinra wants to cut contact with shingen but cant figure out how to unentwine himself from his father and also is just overall too afraid to actually do it, altho we do see him slowly stand up to him more thruout the canon, so id like to think that he continues to work on that. either way, his dad is at the wedding, because theres no way in hell he realistically could be kept out of it. part of shizuos best man duties are shingen wrangling. he does a terrible job. i do like to think shinra has a relationship with kazane, i think she would be happy to be welcomed into his weird world and is thrilled by how similar they are. id like to think they get pretty close. so she's there also. ive been thinking since i got this ask about whether i think shizuo and izaya could be in the same room with each other post canon and eventually i came to the conclusion that realistically... shizuos not the only person in attendance that would have some issues with izaya at that point, and frankly im not sure izaya would want to be in ikebukuro or near anyone at all. not for a long time at least. i do think shinra and izaya would stay in contact, though- i do think izaya knows about the wedding and initially made some kind of joke at shinra and celtys expense, but deep down hes not sure if hes happy for his friend, bitterly jealous, amused by the concept of something nonhuman getting married, or any other combination of feelings.

the fact that its small does NOT mean shinra didnt drop a fortune on it, though. this is a no expenses spared event. as for decorations i think they lean hard into the black and white. also.. if we want to say cannon started in 2002, this is probably, like. 2013. its tacky. its ugly. its so disgustingly shinra and celty. honestly, i think shinra would have more opinions than celty during wedding planning (which is not helping the tacky thing). theres one thing celty puts her foot down on- she doesnt want to wear a white dress, she wants to make a dress from her regular shadow clothes. shinra whines about that for a split second before he decides that means HE can wear white and then proceeds to get a lab coat/suit jacket monstrosity made which becomes his lifelong go-to formal wear. celty would make her dress something extremely dramatic, like this. after he sees her in her dress shinra feels like an idiot for ever thinking he wanted her to wear white because shes so beautiful and so her in it. they dont give their guests a strict dress code but everyone shows up in the nicest outfit they have.

for flowers, they go all white, but they dont choose typical wedding flowers. i think they would be drawn to things like this:

for music, i think they would play a mix of old love songs and cheesy 90s music they loved as teens. there would be SO much dancing. none of them dance well.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Hestia

This is another eternally virgin goddess, so we're doing another pseudo-demigod by adoption (like we did with Athena).

Demigod MC: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia

Hestia is the goddess of the Hearth, Home, Architecture, Domesticity, Family, and the State. She's high up there (firstborn of Rhea and Cronus), but several factors have led to her falling into the background when compared to the other (flashier) Olympians. She swore to never marry, rejecting proposals from both Poseidon and Apollo, and is something of an antithesis to Aphrodite.

Lucifer

Honestly? He thought they were exactly what they were after. A weak human with no experience in the magical world what-so-ever.

Well… He was half-right.

On the surface, this is a pretty weak human. They don't have super flashy powers or a divine birth from the gods… but they do have a very protective adoptive mother.

The brothers had just settled in for their first dinner with the new human when the goddess herself strolled into their dining room, asked who was in charge, then dragged Lucifer away by the ear!

She's not even his mother, yet he felt the intense urge to apologize and put himself in his own room… Oh, the humiliation… at least she did the same to Diavolo…

The Prince was only able to calm her down by promising absolutely NO harm would come to her child… on their heads...

By the time the goddess finally let him go, Lucifer was about ready to shackle the MC to his wrist so nothing could touch them but he settled on keeping them with him like an assistant of sorts. They were in charge of helping him with the paperwork so he could keep an eye on them. 

What he didn’t expect was for them to be so… good at it? They could keep his offices clean, they managed his daily schedule, fixed up the House, and still have time to bring him tea and sweets every night!

They could even reign in his brothers somehow… They weren't strong or intimidating, but one or two mildly unhappy words out of them and everybody would be on their best behavior.

Was everyone positive they're only human...?

As much as he hated to admit, he may have a slight deep case of falling for the housekeeper… He would make a move, but well…

He has Beel to contend with first.

Mammon

Okay so, watching Lucifer get dragged out by the ear just like Raphael used to do to him was hilarious!!! The whole room got a good laugh! 🤣

Until Hestia glared at them and suddenly they all felt like they'd disappointed someone important….

And all that fuss over some dumb human??

So what if they made amazing food?

So what if they could clean the entire mansion in a day?

So what if they were the walking equivalent to a warm cup of cocoa on a winter's day??

So what if they were just the kindest, sweetest thing in this godforsaken hellscape and he would throw himself in front of a bus to keep them safe-

-Wait, when did that happen?!?

Seriously, Mammon's attachment to the MC came out of NOWHERE to him. One day, he was threatening to eat their soul and the next he's freaking out when they stub their toe!

He swears they have to have some kind of magic about them! A charm, or a spell, or… their lovable smile and warm, loving hugs...! 😊

Damnit!! They're too cute!! He needs them to go away but also never leave, thanks. 😒

In all seriousness, though their kind nature puts Mammon's tsundere self at a bit of a disadvantage, his protective instincts shoot through the roof whenever they're involved.

Naturally, that means his day is spent running them away from hungry lesser demons or shielding them from Beel and Lucifer's tug-of-war matches… He's a busy guy these days. 😖

Leviathan 

They're so… so… MOE!!!

That was his immediate thought when Mammon brought them home. He was expecting a defenseless human, but not one that could have stepped out of one of his slice-of-life manga!

To be honest, his instant thought was try and find a place to sit them on his shelves with the rest of the adorable characters he loves… 😅

And that was before they even opened their mouth! Five words into their introduction and he was ready to get their face on a t-shirt!!

Honestly, combine their natural cuteness with their household skills and they made for perfect waifu/husbando material… 

Not helped by the fact they found one of his maid/butler outfits while doing the laundry one day. Not only did they ask if they could wear it, they actually non-ironically liked it and started wearing it around the House!!

Oh he got cornered by Beel, Lucifer, and Mammon separately that day because they thought he was using them for fetish fuel… But it was their idea, he swears!!

I mean… He didn't discourage them or anything either but still…

If Beel hadn't claimed them on Day One, Levi might have eventually thrown his hat in the ring too... Oh well… he can pine from a distance… What else is new? 😔

Satan

He has a video of Hestia dragging Lucifer out of the dining room on his phone and it's one of his most treasured possessions now. 😌

He is perhaps the only person in the House who was not at all impressed with their little human.

So they could cook? So could he. So they can clean? That's not impressive. They could manage a household? Big deal, he's more or less been in charge of the same thing for centuries!

As far as he saw it, there was nothing the MC could do that he couldn't do as proficiently or even better. There was nothing remarkable about this human at all!

… except for one thing.

That maid/butler outfit of Levi's? The one they like to wear around?

It has cat accessories…

Either they don't notice or they don't mind it but they essentially walk around the House cleaning things with little kitty ears attached to their head and a bell on their collar…

Dammit… Why did Levi even buy that?!?

Satan ended up getting in trouble for enchanting their outfit to give them REAL ears and a tail "accidentally..." Lucifer strung him up by his toes, Beel gave him a black-eye, and Mammon still calls him a "perverted cat freak" but it was worth it, he says, worth it!!

Asmodeus 

Oh Beel…

Asmo saw Beel's feelings for the MC coming from a mile away. He didn't even need to confirm it with a sniff check, he had them scented by the end of their first night!

Lucifer, on the other hand, now that was a surprise... 😏

Ask him a century ago if Lucifer would ever consider a human lover, godly mother or no, and he'd have laughed! Yet here he is, giving gifts and sneaking whiffs of their adorable new housemate!

Of course, that's causing some commotion because they're pitted against each other, but Asmo finds it kind of cute honestly. 

Beel and Lucifer aren't fighting, not for real. The whole house knows Lucifer would win in a real brawl, but neither of them actually want to hurt the other… They're far too close for that.

So Beel tosses Lucifer around with kid gloves and Lucifer holds back considerably against Beel. It's pretty much just two brothers who love each other squabbling over the same toy… 🤭

Honestly, Lucifer might have bowed out by now and just let Beel have them but now his pride's on the line… thus an endless tussle between family and the sweet MC is in the middle, clueless to it all!

Tragic, is it not? But it certainly makes things more entertaining around here! (Good thing too since Beel beat him to the punch… If it's a fight against those two, he'll have to keep any of his own affairs with the MC under the radar... 😏)

Beelzebub 

He has claimed this one. Full stop.

For a bit of perspective: when Barbatos needs cooking tips, he calls Hestia. Hestia, the Divine Master of All Things Cooking. Hestia, the goddess who raised this MC… 

Needless to say if they have any magic at all, it's in the kitchen.

If food is the way to Beel's heart, this MC has claimed his heart, soul, and probably all of his vital organs. Their food is astounding!! Always perfect every time and so good it brings him to tears!

It started the night of that first dinner, prepared by MC. He was too busy scarfing down the table to even notice a goddess showed up and then he proposed to the MC with their own pig roast by meal's end!

They said no to marriage, but an instant pact agreement suited him just fine.

Beel didn't waste a single moment before he started treating them like a potential mate, territorial aggression and all, but there was a bit of a catch… He kept the MC totally oblivious to it.

Surprisingly, Beel's can turn the "They're MINE" part of his brain on and off pretty well. He's nothing but sweet and cuddly to the MC when they're around and even with his brothers!... as long as they don't try anything.

The moment he caught whiff that Lucifer might be pursuing them too, it was on. Suddenly the two brothers who almost never fight were in competition against each other! But of course, both have an unspoken rule to never do so in front of MC.

And now poor MC believes it's common for demons to "play wrestle" like puppies and hugs are traditionally supposed to be so hard they could snap spines… 

And it doesn’t look like they'll be backing down any time soon… Oh dear...

Belphegor 

You know what? For once, everything goes exactly to plan for Belphie!

No really, this MC has no hidden powers, no magic horses, not even Demon Nip. They are a helpless, trusting little human who just wants to help their big teddy bear get his twin back!

So, you know how it goes. The charm, the lies, the treachery and all of that. He even gets to kill them!! Oh, happy days!! 😁

Come to think of it, they did smell an awful lot like Beel… But who cares, as long as Lucifer suffers right?? And this whole "living together in harmony" crap fails, right?!

Wrong. 

Beel went ballistic. Lucifer did too, but Beel was what really hurt…

Belphie can safely say that in all of his life, Beel has never physically attacked him. Not once, or at least, not with intent to kill… 

But when the sixthborn's fist went crashing through the wall right by his ear that day, he knew his brother's first instinct was to aim for his head… and his second was to miss, as he still loved him, but only by just a little.

What the hell did he just do??

Thank their father for Barbatos and all the funky time stuff he can do because bringing the MC "back" snapped his angry brothers right out of it. 

Things should have been smoothed over at that point but as everyone was finally settling down for tea, Hestia made another appearance in the House… this time carrying a butcher's knife!

Time fix or no, Diavolo had promised her no harm would come to MC and at least one continuity of them DIED… so punishment was now on Lucifer and the Demon Prince himself!

Belphie, in a rare case of guilt and an expression of brotherly love, offered to take their place since it WAS kind of all his fault. His gesture softened the Goddess of Family juuust enough to lighten his sentence from execution to hard labor.

And thus, the MC had their own housekeeping assistant for a whole year, complete with bitter reluctance and a matching maid outfit! Cat-theme and all!!

He's sending nightmares to anybody who laughs… guaranteed. 😒

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 28.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings In This Chapter: Use Of A Sex Toy, Lactation Kink, Degradation, Daddy Kink, Begging, Sex Over A Desk, Bratty!OC, Dom!Yoongi, Mentions Of The Color System, Sex Against A Window, Exhibitionism, Praise, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie, Insecure!Yoongi

A/N: I’m back from vacation. Here is your weekly dose of Yoongles. Also big ups to my ladies @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna​. Love yall.

Why do people even get married? If you had it your way you would just get married at City Hall with your parents and best friends. But getting married to a CEO is never that easy. Combine that with your raging hormones, sore back and ankles, and your overbearing, over the top best friend… it's all a bit much to handle. Not to mention now that everyone knows who you are, you have eyes on you at all times.

Although, you know how happy Yoongi is about all of this. You can see how he radiates joy with each step as you walk hand in hand together out in public. That pretty much makes it all worth it.

"I'm allergic to coconut," Yoongi breathes out, pushing the plate of wedding cake in front of him away.

You hum in agreement, leaning back into the plush armchair.

"They're all so good, I don't know what to pick." you say truthfully, looking over the multitude of wedding cake samples that are spread across the exorbitantly large dining room table.

"Well, you have… twenty minutes to figure it out." Leena notifies you from the other end of the room.

"You know, you're like a drill sergeant or something," you murmur.

You can hear Yoongi's gentle snigger when she narrows her eyes at you. "My perfect, amazing, gorgeous best friend is only getting married once. It has to be the event of a lifetime. So strap in and call me General Matrimony."

"Hear, hear." your fiance agrees smothering your cheek with a kiss.

"In my opinion the double chocolate fudge with marshmallow Swiss buttercream is the best." Leena decides, pointing to the cake in the middle of the table.

"Too sweet." you and the CEO reply at the same time.

She sneers at your combined cuteness.

"Are we trying to be disgustingly decadent or classy?" Yoongi quips to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

Leaning your temple against him, your cheeks puff out in thought. "Disgustingly classy?"

Leena points at you with her gold pen. "Love that."

The CEO snorts loudly, running the tip of his nose over your temple.

"If we're being disgustingly classy, we should do the chocolate chiffon cake with the light white raspberry filling." you announce, pointing at the cake in front of you.

"That was really good," Yoongi agrees, planting his hand on your protruding stomach.

Leena looks up at you over her clipboard impressed. "If I knew you were gonna turn into some hoity toity queen, Miss Thing -- I would have shoved you at Yoongi a long time ago." she jeers.

You roll your eyes with a laugh before wincing at a kick that's just a bit too tender on the ribs.

"Honggi. Relax, buddy." Yoongi mutters in your direction.

You had decided on a name last night. It honestly didn't take you long at all. You and your fiance are always on the same page.

Honggi is a powerful name and Yoongi's son should have that prowess and power behind him.

Yoongi came to love the simple word almost immediately and even when you were drifting off to sleep, you could hear the CEO murmuring semblances of the name.

When Leena looks over you both, her sharp and intense features begin to soften. "God, you guys are cute. It's fucking disgusting." she whines, sipping her champagne.

Shaking his head with a laugh your soon-to-be husband seems to agree. "I'm not the one who brings the cuteness here." he chirps, running his thumb in loving strokes over your distended skin.

Leena gives you a moment or two to calm down before hardening her gaze and tapping the famed clipboard with her pen. "Floral arrangements, come on folks! We don't have time!"

"Wedding tyrant." Yoongi breathes playfully, earning a snort from you.

"Good morning, Sir." Shea calls to Yoongi as he gets out of the elevator.

"Hey, Shea. Mornin'." the CEO mutters, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair.

It was no secret that after the unfortunate incident with his mother, you started to despise Kira. You never said anything of course, you were too kind for that. But Yoongi knew, he always knows. So he did what he thought was best and let her go. He did however give her a gigantic 'keep quiet' sum of money as well as having her sign a NDA. He wasn't about to let the woman that's kept him company many times throughout many years go blabbering at the mouth due to being disgruntled.

"You have two meetings today and then after lunch you have a few contracts to sign." Shea explains.

Yoongi likes that she's strictly business. And more importantly, she doesn't look at him like he's a piece of meat on sale at the butchers.

"Thanks." he breathes, picking up his coffee from the reception desk.

"Oh! And your fiance called!" she beams.

He knows she's a fan of your artwork and just the mention of you has both of them smiling like idiots. Nothing like simping to start off the day.

"Oh? Is she okay?" he inquires, pulling out his phone.

"She said she's bringing you lunch, so don't eat." Shea instructs.

He hums thoughtfully. "Well, I guess I'm pretty lucky. Huh?" he quips, heading towards his office.

The day goes by slower and slower with each passing minute. He equates it to being away from you and his son if he's being honest.

The meetings are all the same. Boring and tedious with glasses of whisky to take the boredom even slightly away.

The old men that seem to run the company beneath him have more to say about the project managers than their own jobs. It's almost baffling.

But when Yoongi gets the solace of being in his exorbitantly large office again on his own, he finds peace there.

Shea wasn't too forthcoming with just how many contracts he has to sign and the stack of them on his desk makes his eye twitch.

"God, when is lunch?" he breathes, turning around in his large chair to look at the sonogram painting of his son you so artfully created.

Digging into his suit pocket, he looks for the trusty gold pen he uses to sign documents -- but he feels something else first. It's small, fitting in his palm and his eyebrows furrow. When he pulls it out, he can't say he isn't confused.

You did pick out his suit this morning, much like you do every morning but he's never had a remote in his pocket before.

Picking up his phone, he's immediately intrigued.

The phone rings loudly in his ear and suddenly he's forgotten all about work.

"Hello?"

"Little dove." his voice sounds confused and playful at best.

He examines the small black remote, having no idea what on Earth it's for.

"Yeah?" you quip back.

"I found a remote in my pocket. Any idea why?" he prods, his eyebrows flickering up expectantly.

The hum of uncertainty you give makes him all the more curious.

"No. Why is there a remote in your pocket? Did you take the garage remote instead of your car key?" you inquire.

It's simply ridiculous but now he's questioning himself. "What? No! Then how would I have gotten to work?"

He presses the 'On' button and flips it over in his hand expectantly.

"Oh God," you whisper softly.

"You okay? Is Honggi kicking a lot?" Yoongi asks, putting down the remote to give you his full attention.

"N-No. I was just surprised. I'm in the car, now on my way over to your office."

Your voice sounds breathless and strange all at once and for the first time… probably ever -- Yoongi doesn't take it sexually. "You better tell Minho to be careful driving, you hear me?"

"Mhm." you gasp softly.

"Well if you didn't put this thing in my pocket, I don't know how it got here then." Yoongi murmurs, pushing more buttons on it curiously.

"Oh my God, Minho drive faster!" you squeak out.

The CEO is completely at odds with what's happening. "You alright?" he inquires curiously.

"I just really need to… pee." you babble.

You sound dazed and lost, even needy all of a sudden.

"I'm sure. Honggi is getting big." your fiance agrees, drawing imperfect shapes on his desk with the tip of his finger.

"I'm here. I'll be right up, Daddy." you whimper, hanging up on him.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, eyebrows completely furrowing. "What's wrong with her?" he bleats.

He's signed a total of three documents by the time you make it upstairs.

Just hearing your sweet voice interacting with Shea in the far distance sends his heart absolutely pounding with excitement. Seeing you sometimes gives him the adrenaline of bungee jumping or cliff diving.

When the doors of his office burst open, he can't help the gummy smile that spreads over his features.

He takes in your attire and suddenly he's confused. You're wearing a stylish black trench coat that flourishes out at the bottom, but he can't see the dress you're wearing beneath it.

"What dress are you wearing that doesn't cover your mid thighs?" he asks, pushing back his desk chair to stand up tall.

Your fingers are shaking and you hurriedly slam the door shut. When you lock the both of you inside his large office, he knows something is weird.

"Y/N?"

Turning around to him with your back flush to the door, he can see how colored your cheeks are. Your lips are parted like your gasping for breath and your eyes are low with lustful intentions.

He finds something in his gut stirring at the sight of you.

"Baby? You okay?" he prods, rounding his desk.

Your fingers fumble with the belt around your belly which keeps the trenchcoat in place.

It's almost amusing how flustered you are.

You don't seem to be in any pain and Yoongi takes this all in as strange.

He leans back against the desk, waiting patiently for you to reply.

"I'm fine!" you assure him, shoving open the coat.

If his eyes could widen any larger, they'd probably pop out of his head.

You stand before him, scantily clad in thin, lace lingerie.

"Baby!" he gawks, rushing towards you to cover you up.

He can't help the way his cock begins to stir below the belt at the sight of you.

"What're you doing?" he hisses, gripping both sides of the trench coat.

You whimper gently, hooking your hand around his neck to pull him down to your height. He allows you to kiss him, he can feel the fervent need coming from your lips. His hands slowly slide from the coat to beneath it, feeling the soft skin of your belly.

"Want you," you gasp, pulling one of his hands between your thighs.

He can feel the vibrations against his fingertips and it all makes sense now. He groans loudly, pulling you back in for a fierce and passionate kiss.

His teeth nibble gently at your bottom lip and in all honesty, he's astounded by your forwardness. It's rare to see you like this but when your hormones are raging and in charge of your brain… who is he to stop you?

"You naughty little dove." he jeers, pulling you towards his desk.

"What's got you so playful today?" he inquires, pushing the multitude of contract folders aside.

He helps you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with a wanton groan.

The clit and g-spot vibrating sex toy you had recently spoken about sits between your sodden pussy lips. Yoongi can see how wet you are through the thin lingerie and it makes his heart beat faster at the sight.

"Just wanted to," you whimper, spreading your legs wider.

Stepping between your limbs, his hands can't seem to separate from your soft skin. Reluctantly, he leaves your belly to tug down the cups of your bra. Your breasts spring out, swaying and dribbling milk languidly.

"You're leaking milk in public, like a little cum slut."

His dominance is overwhelming to your senses and you can only nod fervently in agreement.

"I'm your cum slut. I'm yours." you babble, wrapping your hand around his tie and pulling him towards you.

It's not like this extreme horniness has come from nowhere. In fact, you've been in pain from kicks and punches from your growing son for a week or so now and the one day you don't feel any pain at all -- the most pressing horniness you've ever felt has overcome you.

His lips are soft and warm against yours. They draw you in like a fly to honey and you're enraptured with the man you're in love with.

"I never thought you'd turn up at my office like this, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, pressing soft kisses to the column of your neck.

"I'm so horny, I'm going to pass out!" you complain, reaching for his belt.

He can hear the sheer neediness in your voice and it sends him into overdrive.

"I'll take care of you, baby girl. Don't worry." he assures you, cupping your breasts and gingerly swiping his thumbs across your leaking nipples until you're sobbing with relief.

"D-Daddy!" you whine, unbuckling his belt.

The way your voice peaks makes his eyes immediately rise to the double doors of his office.

"You're gonna have to be a little quieter for me, babe. I'm at work." he murmurs, kissing your lips softly.

You whimper, giving him an understanding nod.

"Good girl," your fiance praises, wrapping his lips around your nipple.

Your hand cups your mouth when you gasp loudly. Shaking like a leaf, your body is quite literally vibrating with sexual need.

He sighs gently against you, adoring you for all you're worth. One hand pinches and rolls your forsaken nipple while the other caresses your stomach.

The vibrating with you seems to only get faster and you're so stimulated that fat tears of pleasure begin to roll down your cheeks.

"Feels good, little dove?" Yoongi coos around your nipple, enmeshing his fingers into the sides of your underwear. In mere seconds it becomes strings in his hands. He groans against your skin gently, tucking your destroyed undergarments into his suit pants pocket.

"S-So good! Fuck," you moan, shoving down his pants.

The sight before you has you licking your lips expectantly. His cock is already throbbing with need and it's a welcome sight.

One thing you can always count on with Yoongi is his complete and utter patience when it comes to pleasing you. His cock could be fucking purple with need and he would still take his time making sure you're satisfied first.

His fingers run over the smooth silicon of the sex toy and he shivers visibly at the vibrations. "How's it feel, baby? You like the new toy?" he inquires, kissing over the valley of your breasts.

You hum in agreement, lifting your hips slightly begging him to touch you.

You can feel your veins coursing with white hot pleasure, it feels like electricity firing through every pore in your body.

When his fingers slide over your opening, he can't help but choke on a moan. "God, your cunt is soaked. Shit." he curses, dipping a finger into your heat.

"You're gaping for my cock, Jesus Christ." he breathes out.

Yoongi knows he probably isn't going to last long. It's been awhile since you've fucked and his hand is nothing compared to being inside of you. Combine that with the new vibrator inside you, it's definitely going to be a tough feat.

"Fuck me over the desk like an animal!" you beg of your soon-to-be husband.

His eyes seem to widen at your forwardness but he can't say he doesn't love it.

"Anything for you, baby girl."

Your whimpers of anticipation have his bottom lip tucking tightly between his teeth.

"How'd I get so lucky to have such a gorgeous woman as my wife? Huh?" he whispers, running his hands over your back and sides.

You don't answer him, only pushing your hips back and wiggling your ass to show just how needy you are.

"I'm coming baby, relax." he promises, palming both globes of your ass in hand.

Your breathing is shallow and your mind is swimming as you wait for him. The vibrations against your most sensitive parts feel so amazing, so raw but it's not enough -- you want his consent to cum. You need it.

Yoongi picks up the small remote, testing the speeds and he realizes which you like more depending on your breathing and small moans. He's toying with you right now, enjoying the obscene amounts of arousal dripping down your soft, fleshy thighs.

His eyes are focused on your cunt, watching from behind as it twitches and spasms around the small device inside of you.

"Daddy, please!" you whine, lifting your head to look back at him.

When you do look back, you see his cock flat on his palm. He pumps it in hand a few times, cursing gently at the sight before him.

"Aren't you just a pretty little pregnant whore for me?" he quips, running his hand from your back to cup your stomach.

The weight of your belly in his hand has him almost in a frenzy then. Pressing the weeping head of his cock to your entrance, his lips press into a thin, hard line when he feels the vibrating sensations flow through him.

"Oh fuck," he hisses softly, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Yes!" you breathe out, pushing back to welcome him into your swollen cunt.

He groans then, welcoming your warm heat around him inch by inch.

"Feels so fucking good, baby girl. Jesus." he moans, taking a moment  for you to adjust to his size.

Grabbing the remote once more, he turns it onto the fastest speed and the gasps you collectively emit seem to sound like they're all around you.

He's forgotten he's at work, he's forgotten what he's supposed to be doing because the most important thing right now is you -- and your swollen, greedy sex is all he needs.

With the pleasurable vibrations added, all Yoongi wants to do is fuck you so hard that you'll both cum and be pleased in minutes. But he's never been the type to leave a sexual experience so early.

Folding over, his chest presses to your back and his fingers intertwine with yours.

His lips feel like heaven against your warm, flushed skin. He suckles small marks against the side of your throat, coloring you as his own.

His thrusts are hard and filling but slow. He'd give anything to hear skin slapping against skin right now but then he's reminded that he's at work.

Your hands grip harder onto the edge of the desk as you rut back against him.

"Your cock is so big," you whine, closing your eyes to become enraptured in the whole experience.

"Yeah? You like my big cock in this pregnant cunt?"

You nod fervently, trying to bite back the loud moans that threaten to tear past your lips. It's all too much and suddenly your orgasm is approaching like a rapid waterfall.

"Don't you dare," your fiance threatens, lifting himself up and gripping the back of your neck.

"Please Daddy. Need to cum," you beg, feeling your body quake with the ever pressing need of relief.

"Oh no, I don't think so. You show up to my office, you wait until I say you can cum."

You whine in defiance, pushing your hips back against him harder and he's surprised at your brattiness.

"Don't you dare cum." he warns you.

Your eyebrows furrow with need and you couldn't care about the punishment you're going to recieve. You're honestly not sure what's come over you, you've never defied him before but right now it's getting you more excited to not listen to him.

Pushing past the control of his orgasms, you lose yourself on his cock. Your high is filled with galactic stars behind your eyelids and white noise filled ears.

"You brat," he gasps, pulling out of you.

It's a smug grin the spreads over your face now before your cringing at the overstimulation of the sex toy. He takes pity on you in that regard, shutting the toy off and pulling it out of you. Tossing it onto his desk, he points his finger in your direction. "You're in trouble." he breathes out, jerking his hard cock in hand.

Now that you've arrived back down to Earth, you're worried. You've never defied him before and you've never seen his wrath.

"You just woke up a brat today, didn't you?" he seethes, helping you stand back upright.

You pout, shaking your head quickly in hopes that he won't be too strict on you. His narrowed eyes chill you to the bone.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I just couldn't help cumming. I was so horny. I'm sorry," you apologize profusely, running your hands over his clothed chest.

He hums unimpressed, combing his fingers through his hair.

"If only people knew what a cumwhore I have on my hands." he murmurs through his teeth.

You frown up at him, begging him to forgive you with puppy dog-like eyes.

"No. You don't get away with being a brat that easily," he deadpans.

Nodding to the large floor to ceiling windows, he taps his foot incessantly.

"Go stand by the window." he orders.

You look down at your naked body before looking back up at him in confusion.

"Wh-"

"What's your color?" he cuts you off, running his hand over your belly.

"G-Green," you chirp out, looking at the window.

"Then go stand up against the window." he instructs, beginning to stroke his cock once more.

"Why?" you inquire curiously, doing as told.

"So people can see what a cumwhore I have on my hands," he whispers into your ear. The heat of his breath has something unfurling inside of you once more.

Bracing your hands against the window, you turn back to look at him just in time to see him situating the vibrator between his fingers.

The quiet thrumming of the sex toy makes your breath hitch with anticipation.

"Spread your legs," your fiance commands, pressing his chest flush to your back.

You're so high up you're almost certain no one could see you but excitement still courses through you.

His hands wrap around you like strong chains and you hum in appreciation.

"I love you," you remind him, turning and kissing his cheek.

He softens at your words, kissing over your shoulder with his plush lips. "I love you too, brat." he murmurs.

His words make you snort gently but it's quickly cut off by a loud gasp. He presses his hand to your swollen clit and the smug grin he gives you sends a chill through your spine.

Your forehead presses to the chilly glass of the window and you mewl as his legs knock yours open farther.

His cock slides between your sodden folds a few times before entering back inside of you.

"Oh my God," you whine, backing your hips up to him.

"Pretty little thing," he praises, kissing over your neck. "What do you think, little dove? You think people can see me fucking your pregnant cunt from all the way down there?"

His thrusts become rougher and harder, cursing all the while.

The vibrations that ricochet through you are once again pushing you towards the edge at a surprisingly rapid pace.

"Don't even," he seethes, feeling how your cunt trembles around him.

His grunts and the sweet whispers of your name enrapture your ears.

The sight that greets Yoongi's eyes could make him almost blow his load in that very second.

"Your milk is leaking onto the glass, oh fuck." he whimpers, fucking into you harder and faster.

"Gonna cum!" you cry to him, scratching your nails against the window.

He doesn't even respond, chasing his own high as your cunt threatens to milk him for all he's worth.

"Oh little dove!" he gasps.

His thrusts become sloppier and his breath hitches at the prospect of cumming inside of you.

"Yoongi, please!" you beg, spreading your legs wider.

"You think you deserve it?" he quips, running his hand over your belly bump.

"Yes," you whimper, pushing back against him with each thrust.

"Cum." he commands, pressing his forehead into the junction between your neck and should.

He holds you up easily as you orgasm around him. You become a blubbering mess, crying out his name softly like a prayer.

"God, I love you." he seethes through his teeth.

His teeth clench down on his bottom lip as he cums, trying to quiet his final moans.

You both stay like this for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's company.

"Are you upset with me?" Yoong inquires, pulling out of you slowly.

Your eyebrows furrow at his worried tone. "Huh? Not at all, why?"

"You never act bratty or defy me… Did I do something wrong?"

You've spoken about this before actually. Yoongi is prideful when it comes to your sub slash dom relationship. He beams with satisfaction knowing that he keeps you so pleased you don't act out of character. For you to have been just the slightest bit bratty, it probably shook up his confidence.

"No, it's just my hormones I think, I wanted to be a little sassy," you explain, sitting down on his lap when he beckons you.

He hums unsurely, hooking his chin over your shoulder. "I'm a good dom to you when we have sex, right?" he asks, kissing your temple.

"Always. You always make me feel safe and dominated," you promise, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He breathes a sigh of relief, looking down at the sex toy tossed casual aside on his desk. "Felt good," he murmurs, running his hands over your sides.

You give him a large smile, nodding in agreement. He can't help but snort at your joyful expression.

"Well regardless of your bratty hormones, I'm happy you came to distract me from my work." your fiance murmurs, pulling the cups of your bra back up.

"You're always happy to be distracted from work." you quip, combing your fingers through his hair.

He nods thoughtfully, letting his fingertips graze over your outer thigh. "Very true." he beams, kissing your shoulder.

When your skin begins to raise with goosebumps, he's quick to cover you with the trenchcoat you discarded a while ago in your sudden heat of passion.

It's your stomach that rumbles first with the need for food and sustenance before he acts accordingly also.

"Oh yeah, where's the lunch you promised me?" the CEO inquires, tying the belt of your coat back in place.

"I gave it to you." you reply with a wide smile.

He looks over at the window before shaking his head with a laugh. "Alright, that's it. Get your pretty butt to the car, I'm taking us home for lunch."

Just talking about food in general has you jumping up with excitement. "Are you coming back to work after?" you prod, watching as he pulls up his boxers and suit pants.

"Nah, I'll just take the contracts home with me now so I don't have to come back. Besides, I didn't correct your errant behavior like I wanted too." he whispers, pecking your lips softly.

Leaning back on the desk, your head begins to tilt. "Well, you should get all your punishment in before six. Leena is coming over to discuss place settings for the wedding."

He groans gently, fixing his suit jacket until it looks seemingly pristine. "Why are you best friends with a tyrant? Remind me again?"

Your giggle echoes through the large office and he adores the sound, it courses through him like new life.

Scooping up the contract folders, he looks over to the window before smiling to himself. "Y'know I'm never cleaning my window again, right?" he quips, watching as you pull open the doors to his office.

"That's disgusting," you quip back, holding out your engagement hand so he can hold it.

Kissing the top of your head, he laughs. "Yeah, I am."

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer​, @imluckybitches​, @slothykrueger​, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland​, @rspbrryy​​, @iv-bts​, @bambuzlee​, @chanelbts​, @mxxngxdss​, @bluewhale52​, @milesjeon11​​, @diamonddia-mond​​, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97​​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​​, @bts-7beauts​​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​, @nikkiordonez12​​, @kaitswrld​​, @skamlover200​​, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria​​, @jikooksgirl19​​, @hobbledehoy26​​, @singular-itae​​, @dchimminie​​, @lowlifeoeuvre​​, @sugaslittlekookies​​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​​, @softysuho​​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​, @betysotelo18​​, @jeonmisha​​, @iwanttohitmyself​​, @ayyyocee​​, @neverthefirstchoice​​, @itsbangtanoclock​​, @little7bitchh​​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​, @deathkat657​​, @firstlovesuga-93​​, @namjoonia​​, @paperpurple​​, @muzikabijou​​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​​, @kleff03​​, @ruinsofangels​​, @brightwingr5​​, @leekanchol​​, @rkivemagic​​, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​​, @melaninkpops​​, @y00ngisbabygirl​​, @ungodlyjoon​​, @prochnost513​​, @dunixxd​​, @athenakyle​​, @igotnotype​​, @chxmachxps​​, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog​​, @alpaca1612​​, @ohcarolinamin​​, @thegreatestsushi​​, @eltrain80​​, @btsmylife21​​, @deeepvibes​​, @httpminyg​​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​​, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​​, @preciouschimine​​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​​, @kooafraid​​, @ladykadyrova​​, @singjisu​​, @yazanii​​, @moonlitmyg​​, @justzeera​​, @absolutefantrash​​, @whocaresarchives​​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​​, @bt21chim​​, @flowerboyhobi​​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​​

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[xmint-conditionx]

art on exhibit | myg + jhs feat. knj

pairing: sugardaddy!hoseok x fem!reader, ceo!yoongi x fem!reader, brat!reader, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!yoongi w/c: 5k but i feel like it should be so much longer for some reason smh summary: you and your sugar daddy, hoseok, are big fans of exhibitionism, but this is the craziest you’ve ever taken it. most of his prestigious party guests are jumping to get to get their hands on you. will you be able to handle it? tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, remote controlled vibrator, almost reaching limits, spanking, marking, biting, ball gag, degradation (slut), praise, punishment, crying, light oral (f recieving), public humiliation, rope play, shibari, suspension, almost like being pimped out but u like it?, open relationship, hoseok is sort of protective tho, overstimulation, subspace, the orgasm nearly kills you, this one is real nasty, namjoon is just a guest appearance tbh but maybe later he doesn't have to be???

a/n: this thing has given me so much trouble by not appearing in tags. it didn't the first time i posted it on the old blog, and it hasn't been showing up this time either, so please feel free to give this one some extra love. also, honestly, i was sitting on this idea for a long! time! before i actually wrote it out. if i was spaced out in my last class of the day, i was probably thinking about this. i am almost proud and almost ashamed to share this with you all, lmao cause it's honestly a huge fantasy of mine. i’ve been really wanting to do a sugardaddy!hoseok thing for a while, and if you guys like this, then i think i can add more to the story. alright, y’all stay nasty. enjoy!

The ropes dig into the skin of your thighs ever so gently, and you close your eyes to listen to the din of the party that surrounds you. Guests only arrived 30 minutes ago, and you’re already dripping wet. This isn’t the first time you and Hoseok have done exhibitionism, but this is the farthest it’s ever been taken. Men and women in their best black tie attire surround you, glasses of his most expensive champagne in their hands. Not all of them are looking at you; some are too bashful to acknowledge your existence. Some only sneak glances when they think nobody else is looking. Few have come up and examined your entire naked frame, suspended from Hoseok’s ceiling in the middle of his entertainment space.

They’re examining you as if you were a piece of fine art; just another pretty and peculiar object that Hoseok has collected. You’re placed among some of his other art pieces - some Pollocks, some Dalis, some Picassos, and one O’Keefe - and somehow, you feel like you fit. That’s what Hoseok had said anyway. That since you were one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life, he wanted to feature you as the work of art you are. He chose to display you in his favorite way.

Red shibari rope surrounds each of your legs like a cage before confining your hands behind your back. The rope trails over your torso and is twisted and knotted around your exposed breasts, but not tightly. Just enough to accentuate your natural shape. Your legs are tied so that they remain apart, one held higher than the other to leave you fully exposed. Your stomach is facing the floor, but not entirely; Hoseok has tied you so that you’re almost lounging comfortably there, suspended in midair. The lines of rope flow with the form of your body, and even though all of your weight is pressed down onto them, the ropes are the soft and luxurious kind - no doubt expensive - that make you feel as though you could be floating instead.

Just then, your attention is jolted to your cunt, where his favorite black remote control vibrator has just been triggered. You clench around it, and your moan is muffled by the ball gag that is secured over your lips. When you open your eyes, he is standing solidly in front of you.

His black button up shirt and jacket combination is draped over his shoulders beautifully, and his shiny brown hair is parted in the middle. He looks incredible. Radiant. Sinful.

“You looked bored,” he says with a little smirk as he continues to let the vibrator run inside of you, “and we can’t have that… Perhaps I should turn it up.”

He twists a small knob on the remote and the vibrations steadily rise in frequency until they’re as high as they can go. A semblance of a scream escapes your lips behind the gag. You begin rocketing toward climax, but Hoseok knows you and your body too well. Just as you begin to feel the tingles spread over your body, he shuts it off, and your muscles immediately go lax from being tensed up and ready to come.

He laughs softly as you pant, and then takes a quick look around the room.

“You seem to have gathered some attention. That’s my good girl.”

Without another word, he pockets the remote, and you watch how his ringed fingers delicately pick up a flute of champagne from one of the server’s tray tables. Then he simply walks away. His immaculately shiny black shoes gently thud on the marble floor as he makes his way through the crowd, to presumably some other obscenely rich friend of his.

You feel a small amount of saliva about to peak over your bottom lip. You’ve been good about swallowing everything but it seems your denied orgasm has made you forgetful. Moments later, a small thread of your own spit runs out of your mouth and onto the floor. You know that you have been dripping from the other end too, and you wonder if any of the guests have just seen you drool on yourself.

As if to answer, Hoseok comes back from behind you and grabs you by the jaw. His face lights up when he confirms that you have made a mess of yourself. He turns to one of his guests and speaks.

“See, Namjoon?” he says, tilting your head up toward his guest so that he can see, “She’s incredible.”

You meet eyes with the guest, and put on your best innocent look. You love how a blush starts to creep up into his cheeks, and how his pillowy lips part slightly. Even though you’re bound from head to toe and easily the poorest person here, you feel like you’re the most powerful person in the room. The guest clears his throat and turns his attention back to Hoseok.

“How much was your price?” he asks.

Hoseok looks down at you, and a smirk begins to form on his plush lips.

“1,000 US Dollars. Per second,” he says, “Which charity will it be, then?”

You’d been the one to come up with the idea for the proceeds from the charity fundraiser to be benefitted by getting to control the vibrator. Hoseok loved it.

“Your education charity,” he says, “and I’ll take 30 seconds.”

Hoseok nods, “Do you want to go ahead and write the check now or do you want me to keep a tab running and let you know at the end of the evening?”

The tall man considers this, and looks back at you for a moment before answering, “keep it open, will you?”

“Alright, Mr. Kim. All yours,” Hoseok says as he fishes out the device from his suit pocket before turning to you, “Be good, you hear me? Don’t come until you have been given permission by either Mr. Kim or myself. Understood?”

You nod frantically as you watch the remote being transferred from Hoseok’s hands to Namjoon’s. The earlier flustered man turned more confident once he held the little black fob in his palm - quite a large palm now that you look at it closely. It would look so nice trailing up your thigh, you think. You look up at Namjoon and convey a pleading look, one that silently asks for mercy.

He does not give it.

With a small grin, he turns on the vibrator, and you scream (or try to) at the suddenness of the sensation. He spends his entire 30 seconds with the device in your pussy at full speed, and you can’t hold back your groaning. You clench around the bullet, and when his time is up, you feel beads of sweat starting to form on your brow from the exertion. You’re left a panting mess in front of him, Hoseok, and every other guest that has turned to watch you squirm.

Namjoon’s satisfied smile and nod encourages others in the room to have a turn. Before long, you see a few more guests make their way over to where you are hanging. This time it is a group of women.

“Hye-jin!” Namjoon exclaims, before he hugs the woman and offers a short to the three others that come over with her. She’s dressed in the most beautiful black form fitting dress you’ve ever seen. Her hourglass figure sways captivatingly in the gown, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by her figure. You look up at her and she’s smirking down at you; you were too distracted at the way the large jewels on her necklace fell over her collarbones to realize that they were already discussing you.

“I should have known it would be you to break the ice,” she says playfully to Namjoon, who just presses his lips together in resignation as he puts his hand to the back of his neck.

“How’s the comeback?” he asks casually, as if there isn’t a fully naked and exposed woman suspended in front of him. His ability to be so casual while you’re at the edge of your sanity shoots a ping of arousal through your body. You shiver slightly, and you catch Hoseok looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. He’d never admit it, but he cares about you a lot. You can tell he’s checking to make sure you aren’t getting ready to start snapping your fingers- the safe action you’d both agreed on to release you from the ropes and send you into his master suite. Even when he had walked over to find Namjoon, you know even then he wasn’t out of sight or earshot from you.

He had a clean and plush robe stowed away in the closet nearby, and was always ready to release you should you want to be. You’d worked together before the event to set up a space in his suite to go should you need to retire for the evening, and you caught him setting a hoodie of his on the side of the bed where you typically sleep. You’d always playfully taken them, either to flirt or to wear it (and only it) to encourage a round two. But he had never deliberately set one of them aside for your use. He knows you won’t be using it to flirt or to rouse him into more sex, so his little efforts to bring you as much comfort as possible had set alight something in your heart.

He really did take pride in taking good care of you. As a good sugar daddy should.

You’re yanked back to reality when the vibrator starts up again. You clench around it and feel a gush of wetness surge out at the sensation of it going at full blast. Just when you become used to the speed and lower your whining, you open your eyes to see the woman holding the remote this time, grinning down at you with full lips. She meets your gaze and turns it up all the way, which makes you tense up every last one of your muscles. The woman next to her with long, light hair and a wicked gaze, whispers something to her while eyeing you up and down. It then occurs to you that you weren’t paying attention and don’t know how much time she purchased.

As the seconds tick by, they feel like hours. With the device at full speed, you feel yourself closing in on a climax, and so you squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the orgasm that is about to rip through your body…

She turns it down to the lowest setting and watches as you groan at the second denial crushes you. More saliva drips down your chin as she switches it off, leaving you with only the beads of sweat that cling to your skin.

“Thank you, Hoseok. Worth every penny,” Hye-jin says, handing the remote back to him.

Hoseok beams his thousand-watt smile at her, and congratulates her on both the success of Maria, her solo album, and then thanks her for her donation.

She thanks him in return, and both women walk back into the crowd. Namjoon has also gone, which just leaves you with Hoseok again. His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you see a fire in them that you’ve never seen before. You’re dangling about waist height, and you can’t help but to look down from his face to try to see if you can make out a bulge. You don’t get time to really look, because as soon as you break eye contact, he moves to your back and smacks your ass cheek hard. A loud thwack echoes throughout the large space, over the din of the partygoers. You inhale sharply at the sting, and let your breath back out in a long groan, drawing the attention of more guests. You knew that the champagne would loosen inhibitions eventually.

You hear the footsteps of a couple other guests walking toward you from behind where Hoseok stands. You crane your head to try to see over your shoulder, but they stand just out of your peripheral vision. They’re talking in low voices, and you can’t make out what they’re saying. You wish you could swing yourself around and look at them, but knowing that the only thing they can see of you is your dripping cunt, you’re not so mad.

You feel a hand on your thigh, a touch you’re familiar with. You know it’s Hoseok’s hand, as he gently trails up your inner thigh, purposefully teasing you. An involuntary shiver runs through your body and you can’t help but to whimper slightly. You hear a man’s chuckle, and then he’s speaking, again too low for you to hear.

Hoseok uses his grip on your inner thigh to spin you around so that you’re facing the group of men. Namjoon has come back, this time with what appears to be a friend in tow.

“Baby girl,” Hoseok’s voice says gently, and you look up to meet his gaze, “Yoongi here has just asked if he may touch you.” Your eyes widen at the thought, remembering how just Hoseok’s hand trailing up your thigh had your toes curling. You look up at the new guest, and see only a cold and stone-like expression. His eyes seem to bore right through you, and directly into your cunt. You’re momentarily mesmerized under his heavy stare, before you slowly nod your head.

“Yoongi here has just generously donated one million dollars to one of my charities, so do you know what that means?” he asks you, not expecting an answer, “How long is one thousand seconds?”

“Sixteen minutes and 40 seconds,” Yoongi says, not breaking eye contact from you, “If I’m correct.”

If your mouth could drop, it would. Namjoon, looking up from his phone, just nods nonchalantly.

Hoseok asks the man what he has asked everyone else: if they would like to keep a running tab or if they would like to write a check now. Yoongi reaches into his back pocket and pulls out what you assume to be his checkbook. With rings glittering in the lighting of the room, his hand swiftly fills it out. He rips it out and extends it to Hoseok.

“I won’t be needing more time.”

His cool confidence in saying this small phrase makes your stomach drop.

Hoseok grips your chin and tilts your head up. “Remember, baby girl, don’t come until you’re told to. You want to be on your best behavior for Mr. Min. Trust me.”

He speaks sternly and then releases your jaw, trailing his hand back to stroke your messy hair, before settling on your two hands secured behind your back and giving them a light squeeze. A silent reminder of your out, should you need it.

This Yoongi must be… a force to be reckoned with.

“Your time starts now,” Hoseok says, tapping his phone screen. You squeeze shut your eyes and brace yourself for the abrupt shock of the vibrations, but seconds pass, and they don’t come. You gingerly open your eyes and look up at the man standing above you, toying with the remote. He regards it with vague interest, and then he flicks up his eyes to look at you. Your heart stops for a moment, as he begins to rake his onyx eyes over your body. He purses his lips slightly and begins walking around you, all too slowly.

Even though he has disappeared from your view, you can feel his eyes on you. Your anxiousness grows as he remains out of your sight longer, and this is no doubt intentional. It seems as if he picked up your unease earlier when he first approached.

This guy is good.

You’re so on edge, that the light vibrations that begin in your cunt still surprise you. He turned the vibrator on to its lowest setting, but these low and slow vibrations still make you have a sharp intake of breath. He finally arrives back to your front and seems pleased at your reaction. He squats down so that his face is level with yours.

“What a good girl you are,” he muses, lips parted, tongue playing with the inside of his cheek, “I hope Hoseok here treats you well. You seem… pent up.”

At those last two words, he revs up the vibrations slightly, causing you to let out a small moan. He stands and puts the remote in his pocket. You watch as he gently rolls up his sleeves to the elbow, his forearm flexing as he fixes them. Your hungry stare betrays you.

“Is she always like this?” he asks Hoseok, almost laughing at you. “God, she’s desperate.” He looks at you. “Does Hobi not fuck you enough, little girl?”

Your eyes widen at the implications, and you furiously shake your head no, trying to convey as much as you can with your eyes alone. He just chuckles.

“Loyal,” he says, “I like that.” He looks back up at Hoseok. “Is your agreement exclusive, or is there room in her life for a second... benefactor?” You look up at your sugar daddy, eyes wide with what he might say. He’s just standing there, arms folded over his chest, as if he were discussing the weather or the stock market.

“I’m afraid she’s all booked up for the foreseeable future, unfortunately,” he says cooly but firmly, a little bit of edge to his voice.

“Pity,” Yoongi says, taking a step toward you, “I could think of a million good ways to take up her time.”

“You’ve got 14 minutes left,” is all Hoseok says in response, a definite sharpness to his tone. You’ve only heard this type of voice from him when you’re being particularly bratty. You rarely hear him this stern.

The vibrations quicken slightly, and you can tell from your frequent use that the device is at about its medium speed.

Yoongi takes his hand and reaches out to your back, and with a featherlight touch, begins to trace next to where the ropes lie. He keeps working down your back, and gently trails down your bare ass cheek and ghosts against your pussy. You can feel the heat from his hand, impossibly close to touching you. You hold your head back and try to look at him as you whine out a plea.

“Eyes straight ahead, little girl,” he says, and you comply reluctantly, flopping your head forward dramatically as you sigh. His hand grabs hold of your thigh, and squeezes it so hard you’re sure you’ll find a bruise there in the morning. “And lose the attitude.”

You whimper as he releases your thigh, and goes back to delicately running his fingertips up to your core. He stops just short of your cunt, and you desperately want him to just touch you. You flex your back and buck your hips in order to push yourself onto where you know his hand is. Your clit makes contact with his hand, and as soon as you feel it connect, you feel it missing. Not even a moment later, a sharp sting spreads across your ass, and you clench around the vibe.

“What a greedy little slut you are. Do you always misbehave this much?”

You turn your head back to look at him, and as you meet his eyes, you can see he begins to fume.

“Namjoon, keep her head straight. Someone's not listening.”

You turn your head back around and Namjoon is quickly grabbing your jaw firmly in his hand. Your eyes meet his, and his earlier show of no mercy seems to still be intact. You feel Yoongi’s hand soothe the soreness he just created, only to once again reel back and give the same spot another firm smack, just as hard as the first one.

You cry into the ball gag and the shockwave from his hit sends you slightly swinging forward into Namjoon’s belt. Even though the vibrator is only at medium speed, you feel yourself beginning to get close to a climax. Your moans get longer and higher, and your body tenses to prepare for it. You hear Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t.”

You know exactly what he means. You focus on your breathing and furrow your brow in an attempt to stave off your orgasm. It’s working, but barely. He turns up the vibrations and you cry out again, your head shaking as much as Namjoon’s firm grip will allow.

“Don’t.”

You distance yourself from the situation, distracting yourself with thinking about schoolwork. The essay you’re currently writing. How the rough draft needs to be done by tomorrow night. You need three more in-text citations to make --

His hand is against your clit, and he’s rubbing at an agonizingly slow pace, with just enough pressure for you to want more. You inhale sharply and work harder to distract yourself.

You have two of the quotes picked out, but you need to finalize the third one to really hammer in your point. Maybe you can spend tomorrow morning reading --

His lips graze over the ass cheek he tortured earlier, your smarting skin responding sharply to the gentle contact. He gives you a soft kiss, and then you feel a sharp pain as he sinks his teeth into your already ruined ass.

Your eyes fly open and you make desperate eye contact with Namjoon, trying to show him that you can’t last much longer. Thankfully, this Namjoon is a perceptive man, and he looks from you to Yoongi.

“She can’t take much more, Yoongi.”

“Good,” he says, breath grazing over where he just bit as he speaks. “Come, slut.”

For the first time tonight, your orgasm peaks and rips out of you. Your whole body trembles with the sensation, and you feel his pressure on your clit increase to see you through. The orgasm is hard, and long, and it leaves you with tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running wildly. You’re coming down slowly, and you feel his hand pull away. Before you realize it, he is standing in front of you again. Namjoon releases you, and your head hangs lifelessly as you pant.

Yoongi stands directly in front of you again, and you find yourself staring at his expensive shoes. You’re completely spent. Post orgasm bliss spreads throughout your muscles, and then, a slight discomfort. You realize what it is: the vibrator is still going.

You squirm lazily and whine at the sensation, it being too much. Yoongi squats down and gently lifts up your head by the chin. Your exhausted eyes meet his, and he clicks his tongue.

“Aw, are you all sensitive now?” he asks gently, in an almost patronizing tone. You don’t care. You nod sleepily.

“Is the vibrator too much, little girl?” You nod once more, eyes fluttering shut.

“Then use your safeword gesture,” he says, almost as if it’s a dare. "Go on. Snap."

If he’s not done with you, then you’re not done. You open your eyes and look directly at him as if to say “challenged accepted.”

Without moving his eyes from yours, he cranks up the vibrations until you’re whimpering again.

“Six more minutes,” you hear Hoseok say from beside you.

“Plenty of time,” Yoongi replies without skipping a beat. “I think we can get three more in. One every two minutes? Surely a slut like you will have no problem with that, since you wanted to come so badly earlier.”

You groan at the ache in your cunt, and at the slight displeasure the vibrator is causing. Yoongi stands again and walks back behind you, and this time you know better than to move your head to look.

Soon the vibrations begin to feel pleasurable again, and you’re having a hard time keeping your moans quiet.

“Atta girl,” you hear Yoongi say from behind you, “Your next one’s already coming isn’t it? You greedy little thing. You’re going to ruin Hoseok’s nice floors with your slick. And in front of all these people?”

Just like that, you’re reminded that you have an audience. Quite a large one. You open your eyes to see just about every guest’s gaze glued to your straining form. The heat bubbles in your abdomen as your next climax rushes toward you.

“You may come again,” is all Yoongi says as you’re thrown off the edge again. As soon as you begin to recover from this one, he ups the vibrator to full speed. You scream into the ball gag at the overstimulation, and cry out as tears spill out of your eyes. It’s entirely too much, but you love it. Before you realize it, another orgasm rips through your body, almost as if it were a continuation of the last one.

He doesn’t miss this though, and spreads your ass cheeks apart so he can get a better view. At this point, you’re not sure if you can do another one. You feel as though you might pass out if you come again. But the overstimulation is so overwhelming that you can only think of reaching one more high. You tense your entire body and try to get another one, but your muscles are so spent that you can’t stay tense for long. After a few more tries, you just sigh and hang limply, your limbs heavy and tired. You hang on the edge of climax, being able to see the other side, but not being able to go there.

Mascara tears stain your cheeks from exertion, and you are well and truly spent. You give up.

But you don’t snap your fingers.

Yoongi fastens his lips over your aching clit, and sucks. Just like that, you feel your orgasm building again so you clench, desperately trying to claim it; this time, you reach it.

It tears through you like a slow strike of lightning. You feel yourself shaking as it takes its time fracturing within you. It grows white hot in your belly, and it’s as if every cell in your body has been burned alive. All of the energy you have left is spent thrashing in the ecstasy of your orgasm, and for a few seconds, you know nothing else but the pleasure.

You find yourself deep in subspace, practically dead to the world. You don’t even have the energy to open your eyes. You barely register Hoseok as he begins untying the ropes around your hands, getting assistance from both Namjoon and Yoongi. You feel his hands as he releases your ball gag and caresses your face as he asks if you’re okay. You give the tiniest nod, and he wraps your limp form tightly in his arms as the two men finish unwrapping your legs. He swoops down and sweeps your legs up to carry you bridal style away from the party.

The next thing you know is the soft and cool silk of his sheets enveloping you as he lays you down. You exist there for a time, every nerve ending in your body tingling as you drift off.

You wake some time later to hear quiet chatting. You inhale and breathe in the musky scent of Hoseok’s favorite cologne. You find yourself curled around the hoodie he left for you. As you slowly open your eyes, you can just make out the time on the nightstand clock. It’s almost 3 AM; the fundraiser had to have ended over four hours ago. You breathe slowly and close your eyes again so you can focus on the voices in the room.

You hear Hoseok straight away; his tone is forever instantly familiar to you. The way his normal speaking rhythm is a little sloppy with alcohol. In reply is a voice you more recently became acquainted with. The voice who you last heard giving you permission to come. It’s a little bit more rough now, a Daegu accent slipping out in his intoxication. The third one takes you by surprise. A low and calm voice. Lower than you’d ever suspected possible, from hearing him speak this evening. Even still, Namjoon’s even tone is a rumble you can make out.

You sit up slowly, not wanting the blood to rush to your head. You were sleeping hard. Your dry mouth guarantees that. At your movement, the three men stop their talking and look over at you. Hoseok is the first to set down his glass and walk over to you. His black tie is gone and so is his jacket. His collar is wide open, showing off his tanned chest behind the many unfastened buttons. He gets on his knees next to the bed and reaches for your hands. Once he finds them, his brow is creased with worry, as he brings your hands up to his lips.

“Are you alright, baby girl?” he asks into your hands. You still have the weight of sleep over you, so you don’t respond right away.

“She had her gesture, Hoseok. She could have used it,” you hear Yoongi say, and you look in his direction. He sits with his legs spread, glass of whiskey hanging off of his fingers. Your eyes meet, and even though he’s trying to seem impertinent and uncaring, there’s a tinge of worry and guilt in his eyes. You glance to Namjoon and see that his worry is more plainly stated.

Hoseok caresses your cheek and turns you back to facing him. His eyes plead for an answer. So you give it.

“Yes,” you say, voice raspy, “I’m alright. I feel great, actually.” Hoseok visibly relaxes and you hear Yoongi across the room mutter an “I told you so” to Namjoon.

“He didn’t push you too hard?” Hoseok asks.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you reply smugly, meeting Yoongi’s eyes, “But he did well and truly wear me out... Clearly."

You chuckle as Hoseok covers your hands in a million tiny kisses.

“Perhaps I do need to step my game up,” he teases, “I’ve never seen you so fucked out.”

“Nothing a good nap can’t fix,” you tease back. He smiles up at you, and you once again get lost in his brightness and warmth. “Mind if I join you all for a drink?”

“Of course not, baby girl,” Hoseok says, “I’ll go get your robe--”

“Don’t bother,” you say, wiggling into his hoodie and pulling the hood up and over your hair, “but you can go get me a glass.”

[nnightskiess]

𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

₊° - 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

₊° - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: y/n isn't too keen on letting zoya go on her journey through the fold and arrives at the encampment late at night to ease her worries.

please do not copy, republish, translate or reproduce this imagine on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author's work <3

when word got round in the little palace that a spot for a grisha healer in the second army opened up for the supply run through the fold, y/n wasted no time and offered to go. they had applauded her for her willingness and bravery, but all y/n could think about was seeing that one gorgeous sqauller again, who quite literally blew her away the moment they first met.

zoya nazyalensky's striking blue eyes had captivated y/n the moment they locked with hers and hadn't it been for the squaller looking away, y/n was sure she'd still be lost in them. y/n deemed zoya to be one of the prettiest girls in os olta and the little palace combined, but her beauty was not the only thing about her that had made y/n unable to get the girl out of her head.

zoya was a squaller, a grisha able to manipulate the wind and air, but zoya also possessed a big fire in her belly, one that was almost always quite present. it helped her to the top, but was also one of the qualities that had a tendency to make her intimidating or feared. y/n however, looked right through it and never stepped back whenever zoya would raise her voice or squint her eyes just long enough for other grisha to leave her alone. and exactly that had caught zoya's attention.

training was going terrible, the new squallers seemed to lack the confidence and passion that was needed for combat training. botkin had been so frustrated that he let some of the older grisha take the task and train them. y/n had watched from the sides as zoya visibly grew more annoyed at the youngsters and bit her lip when that same frustration finally caught up with her,

"enough! come back when you're worthy of wearing that kefta or don't show your face again!" she sent a large gush of air their way, making everyone's kefta's blow up in the wind before she turned around, letting out a quick breath through her nose.

y/n approached, a tiny smirk on her face. she'd waited to the sides to see how long it would take to crack the girl's patience. zoya wasn't a quitter, but her tough love seemed to worsen the children's performances even more.

zoya felt a presence behind her and turned around with a sneer as she sent another wave of wind behind her.

"i said-"

y/n was sent against the wall before she landed on the earth with a thud.

zoya tried to hide her initial surprise and gave the girl a once over, tilted her chin and crossed her arms, "what do you want?" she wasn't in the mood to apologize and kept her arms crossed, not even bothering to help the girl up.

y/n dusted her kefta off and tried to delay her reply, which she knew was frustrating zoya even more. y/n finally looked up, a cheeky smile on her face as she spoke,

"you could be sent away for that... we aren't allowed to use our powers here, did you forget?"

"look around- do you see anyone here?"

zoya was right- most boys and girls had silently left the training facility after zoya's outburst and botkin was probably downing a glass of kvas to drink away his frustrations of the day.

"because you scared them all away."

zoya put her nose up in disdain and turned back around- she didn't have time for this cocky know-it-all girl. she rolled her eyes as y/n followed her around the courtyard, getting slightly annoyed,

"i'm not sure if you have it in you, but maybe next time try and ease up on the tough love? be kind for a chance?"

"it's not what works best. do you think they'll be coddled when they're part of the second army? you healers are too sensitive. you should consider changing that or this world is going to eat you up."

"too sensitive?" y/n tried to hide the hurt in her voice and shook it off, "you don't know the injuries i've had to heal, the pain and gore i've seen. you should consider changing your mind on healers. without us, we'd be off way worse."

zoya had been annoyed at y/n's challenging rebuttal at first, but would later realise it wasn't out of lack of respect that y/n didn't seem to falter under her hard glares, it was because of the intrigue and adoration she held for her. if she backed down like all the others, she would never get a chance to break down zoya's walls.

eyerolls out of annoyance faded into playful eyerolls and zoya quickly realised that y/n would be one of those people her superiors had told her about all those years ago when she was first brought to the little palace. in order to not succumb to the stress of being a grisha, let alone one in the second army, one needs companions. companions you trust to have your back, companions to share your worries with and companions to help you see the light in difficult situations, even in the dark of the fold. and a loyal companion y/n became.

zoya was less hostile to the healer than she was to anyone else and people soon caught on. to not lose her air of intimidation, she tried to keep her soft smiles to a minimum and playfully pestered y/n whenever she could- even though no one but the two knew it was playful- only to get a joking sneer back in return, which never failed to crack the tiniest grin on the squaller's face.

"why do you look ready to leave?" y/n suddenly appeared in the doorway of zoya's suite. "planning to run away?" she joked but her worries grew as zoya didn't reply.

zoya didn't look up and instead continued to prepare her bag. y/n noticed that she was wearing the good luck charm she'd given the girl to wear whenever she had to go on a difficult or risky mission. a silent promise to both, if you will, to make sure whatever would happen would turn out alright. y/n's smile faltered,

"where are they sending you off to?"

"kribirsk, i'm going to help sail the skiff for a supply run to ketterdam."

"you're going through the fold?!" y/n took haste steps into the room and stopped right behind zoya, "why haven't i heard about this?! when are you supposed to cross it?!"

zoya let out a sigh and looked up, her hands placed on her hips, "stop it. i'll be fine," she went back to folding her clothes, "you know it's not my first time."

"no, but every time might as well be your last!"

y/n pulled at zoya's arm to make her stop, the squaller immediately glared at her. she hated when y/n became worried, it always intensified the worries she was already feeling herself, even if she would never tell anyone.

"i'll be fine, i promise."

"what happens there isn't really up to you... besides, i just don't like sitting here and waiting in agony for a word from you telling me you survived."

zoya finally gave in, she couldn't hold up her front any longer as she looked into y/n's worried eyes. she let out a deep sigh and rubbed her forehead before her hands dropped to her neck. she grabbed the talisman and held it up, "this'll protect me."

"zoya, it's not some-"

"no. it will. you said it would. i trust you. now, will you trust me? i'll be back before you know it." zoya softly stroked y/n's cheek with the back of her finger, something she did when the girl needed reassurance and comfort. "i'll come back, y/n."

the two women stared at each other for a long time, exchanging silent promises. but y/n's sudden movement caught zoya off guard, and before she could realise the girl had softly planted her lips against her own, y/n had already retreated.

"write to me."

zoya nodded absentmindedly, her head still stuck in the moment before.

"-and you better come back in one piece, nazyalensky."

zoya nodded again, this time less distracted, and she pulled y/n back when the girl made a move to walk out before planting a soft kiss on the girl's cheek.

"i will. or else you'll just have to patch me up again."

but zoya's nerves proved to be more difficult to contain now that y/n wasn't around, even if the girl had a tendency to sometimes make them worse with her worries. she knew she had promised to write, but what was she going to write down? how scared she really was? what would that do to calm y/n's nerves- both their nerves? not to mention that the confident squaller had felt insecure ever since their tiny kiss. was she supposed to write a different letter? was y/n expecting her to? or were they still just friends? or would it only upset y/n if she wrote to her like friends would?

so, zoya thought it was best to just not write at all, to spare both their feelings. but y/n, who had been waiting for a letter in the little palace, had gone mad after a few days. she hadn't received a letter noting zoya's arrival, neither had zoya written her one to tell her when the journey to west-ravka would take place. she felt awfully left in the dark, even if she knew the second army had arrived at the encampment through a general at the palace, she needed to hear it from zoya. or had she scared the squaller off? was the girl regretting their moment? had she lost zoya completely now, even as a friend? she needed to know.

the only worries she felt when the horses pulled the carriage over the roads to the encampment, were the worries about zoya, not about the voyage she was going to have to take through the darkness. after all, she'd have zoya by her side, who would undoubtedly try to protect her if needed, who could calm her down with just a look her way, just like how y/n would be there to heal and support if the situation asked for it.

y/n was assigned a tent with the other corporalki, but could care less about settling in for a good night's sleep. she needed to find zoya's tent first. she needed to see her at least once before setting foot on the ship the next morning.

the torches lit up the campsite and created eerie shadows on the surrounding tents, sometimes even forming into a shadow that looked way too similar to the volcra whose screams and cries filled the air now and then. y/n shook it off and walked along.

she finally heard zoya's familiar soft voice behind a tent's fabric to her left and a guy clad in the clothes of a tracker walked out a few seconds later. it slightly confused y/n, but she walked to the entrance of the now pitch black tent nonetheless.

"zoya?" she whispered out softly, still a bit unsure if she'd actually been right about hearing the girl's voice. what if this was someone else's tent?

"anyone here?" she called again, her eyes now slightly adjusting to the lack of light. a shadow moved to her left before she fell to her knees as all the air in her lungs disappeared. someone had her in a headlock.

"zoya! it's me! it's me, y/n!" she coughed and heaved, clawing at her throat for air. she heard the squaller gasp as fresh air filled her lungs once again. a candle was lit a second after, which barely illuminated the tent, but enough for zoya to see her friend on the floor.

"what are you doing here?!" she hissed, her panic replaced by anger almost instantly, anger that stemmed out of worry for the girl. y/n being there could only mean one thing...

"i had to see you." y/n accepted the help of zoya and was put to sit on the girl's bed. "you promised you'd write... why didn't you?"

zoya ignored the question and fired a question of her own the healer's way, "why are you here? i doubt they let you go without a reason."

y/n refused to make eye contact, but zoya refused to give in and forcefully grabbed the girl's chin. y/n expected to see the squaller's eyebrows knitted together in anger or worry, or both, and a sneer on her face, but was instead met with a look she couldn't quite place, one she barely ever saw. if y/n wanted an answer, she would have to answer zoya first.

"they needed a healer."

"on the supply run?"

y/n nodded meekly but kept looking at zoya's features, trying to decipher what she was thinking.

"y/n, you shouldn't have... not after-"

"i know. i know i had to watch my friends get torn apart last time, while i sat there and couldn't help all of them at once, i know- but zoya- if something were to happen to you and i wouldn't be able to at least try and help you out, i would never be able to let it go."

zoya's grasp on y/n's chin loosened until she finally let go and dropped her hands on her lap. but they didn't feel right there so she immediately grabbed onto one of y/n's, giving it a light squeeze.

"you didn't write to me. that usually means you're either worried and don't want to worry me or... well... after, you know... i thought you might've..."

zoya squeezed again, telling the girl she didn't need to talk further, she knew exactly what she meant.

"i know something has shifted between us, but i don't regret it. that wasn't why i didn't write...well, it was." she continued when y/n rose an eyebrow in confusion, "i was afraid you might've regretted it."

"no, i-"

"it doesn't matter, you shouldn't have come." zoya's walls were back up again in a snap of her fingers and she let go and sat up, immediately shielding herself from whatever rejection about to come her way.

"zoya-"

"it's probably best if we both get some rest."

y/n looked to see if zoya was slightly joking but pursed her lips together when she saw the girl's blank face.

"fine." the healer jumped up and stormed out of the tent, throwing the entrance drape shut so harshly that the tiny candle went out, which left zoya by herself in the dark of the night. at least it would let her get used to the dark that was waiting for her on the end of the encampment.

y/n buttoned and unbuttoned her crimson kefta multiple times, a nervous habit of hers, but kept them buttoned when the horn indicated it was time to go. had it been worth it? offering to cross the fold just to talk to zoya? only for her to get the cold shoulder? no. but at least now she was able to protect the girl.

she walked onto the sandskiff along with other grisha and, this time, cartographers, and immediately locked eyes with zoya, who was already stationed at the front. zoya looked regal, standing there, with her chin held high and her hands behind her back, almost as if she owned the sandskiff. to others, she might've looked cocky, but not to y/n.

zoya's eyes inspected everyone who walked onto the ship and thus also landed on y/n's. but, while she'd lightly glared at everyone, her glare softened when she looked at her friend. she dipped her head in acknowledgement. what y/n didn't know, was that while zoya had tried her best to pretend that y/n wouldn't be going on the supply run, seeing her step onto the skiff had broken that fairytale thought and had made her slightly break out an uneasy sweat. y/n's talisman was hidden under her kefta, but zoya could still feel it pressing against her chest. it calmed her down a little, but not enough, certainly not when the ship started moving and y/n was not on the docks staying behind.

screeches and yells of those terrible beasts were the first things to welcome them into the fold before the clear morning sky finally turned black and the air turned cold. the volcra sounded distant though, so as long as they kept quiet and in the dark, there wouldn't be a reason to panic.

zoya glanced y/n's way every now and then. even if there still wasn't trouble in the air, she just needed to reassure herself that the girl was okay. same for y/n- she kept glancing to the front of the skiff to see zoya's eyes illuminate in the blue of the tiny lantern. zoya's eyes never failed to calm her down, but looking into them now brought her even greater comfort. or discomfort...if she thought long enough about what happened last time she crossed the fold.

the wind howled, the wooden skiff creaked and thunder filled the sky. the occasional lightning lit up their surroundings and showed the shipwrecks from previous supply runs, a great reminder to everyone on board that they should count themselves lucky if they survived this crossing.

"marker one...."

"how many more are there?" a cartographer girl dared to ask and y/n closed her eyes, knowing the answer wouldn't satisfy her.

"thirty-seven."

y/n's hands clasped around the sleeves of her kefta as she hugged herself. only twelve more markers and she'd reach the place where it all happened last time.

barely one marker later and the growling and screeching sounds of the approaching volcra made everyone tense up. one volcra made a close appearance, which made everyone either duck or ready their guns. it was eerily silent after that. y/n tried not to look at the frightened faces of everyone else and instead tried to count, but that proved to make her even more nervous after another volcra screeched nearby- they weren't going fast enough.

zoya felt suffocated when the blue lantern, which was meant to be their little safe haven during their crossing, dimmed. however, the real panic set in when it became pitch black and she lost all sight of y/n. the deck suddenly lit up by the orange hue of a lantern one cartographer boy had set alight in panic, which illuminated y/n's pretty face with an orange tint, but zoya was anything but relieved. this wasn't a good thing. at all.

"blow it out! what are you doing?!"

all hell broke loose when the lantern attracted volcra, who were now surrounding the sandskiff, flying over it to wait for the perfect opportunity to catch their prey. if that wasn't bad enough, the lantern had fallen over and a small fire was starting to eat away at the wooden deck, making it even harder for everyone on board to hide. people were being picked up by the creatures and all y/n seemed to be able to do was freeze. last time she'd been running from left to right to try and help aid the people on board, but even when she had prepared herself for this outcome this time, no muscle in her body seemed to want to move. she didn't know what hurt her ears more- the gunshots, the screeching of those terrible monsters or the agonizing yells from the people on deck. one thing stood out through those yells- a pained yelp coming from no other than zoya made her head shoot up to where she thought she'd heard it.

zoya had watched y/n tense up from her side of the ship and was well aware that past memories were probably troubling her mind, making her unable to get to work. all worries or insecurities were thrown out the window once she realised she needed to keep y/n safe. a volcra had dived to pick her up right as she made a move to run to the healer, but a shove from one of the other grisha had saved her life. her shoulder broke the fall and one of her hands met the flames, making her cry out in pain.

this did the trick and burst the healer's bubble. y/n crawled across the deck, trying to stay as low as possible, and gritted her teeth whenever she came too close to the fire and the heat became painful. zoya noticed her approach and tried to move closer too, only to grasp her shoulder in pain.

"ssssh, i'm here, i'm here, let me-" y/n stammered in a panic as she looked at the damage. she gently stroke her fingers over zoya's burns first. zoya threw her head back at the initial pain and incredibly annoying itch that followed, but let out a shaky chuckle out of relief when the pain subdued before eventually fading away.

they weren't out of danger yet and the volcra hovering above them proved exactly why. zoya's eyes widened as she watched it approach over y/n's shoulder and she pulled the girl on top of her in a tight embrace. the movement made her grit her teeth in pain, her shoulder still hurt like hell, but at least the volcra had missed this chance. she saw it circle around, waiting to pounce once more. she reached for the gun beside her when it turned around, ready for another try. but zoya didn't give it one and directed a shot at its chest, which caught the beast off guard and gave the perfect opportunity to one of the escorts on the ship to finish him off with another shot.

"are you alri-"

"go! get inside!" zoya gently pushed the girl off of her again.

"you're hurt, let me-"

"i need to help send this skiff back. go!"

"it'll only be-"

"we don't have time! i can handle a broken shoulder but i will never forgive myself if something happened to you!" zoya yelled back over the chaos and was supported by another squaller who pulled her to the other side of the deck. y/n sat there, baffled. a harsh force of wind made y/n's hair blow up and the ship started to move again. a young man, one of their escorts, ran up to her, pulled her on her feet and guided her inside.

there she sat, waiting, while a mix of screams, screeches, thunder and gunshots made for a horrifying mix of sounds, while she couldn't do a thing, while zoya was bait up there...

a light so bright beamed through the cracks and holes of the wood and even from her cover, y/n had to shield her eyes.

silence. complete, utter silence. no more volcra, no more shouting or gunshots needed. the wind that the squallers created to send them back home was a comforting sound to y/n's ears and it was all she wanted to focus on as she knew they were going back.

the darkness soon turned to light again. the sky had changed back and was filled with puffy clouds as the air grew more pleasant to inhale. they were back, they were safe. but still, y/n kept seated, not wanting to go out and see the damage. not again.

yes, the sandskiff had returned home, which meant that squallers had sent it back, but zoya had been out there for a while even before the light. going out there meant there was a possibility she was going to receive the news that zoya hadn't made it.

"i need a healer here! quick!"

y/n wiped her teary eyes that were still burning from the smoke, pushed the stray hairs out of her face and stood up. she was not going to let people suffer just because she was afraid of facing her fears. she let herself fall onto her knees next to a cartographer girl whose leg still sizzled from a terrible burn. she seemed pretty out of it- her head lulled as a cold sweat coated her face.

"hey, you're going to be alright. i'm y/n, i'm a healer." she tried to reassure her, even if she was unsure if the girl could even hear her at this point, "i'm going to have to touch it, but it's going to get better after that. i promise. try to sit as still as you can so it won't scar." she went to work and saw the girl's eyes flutter open. "see?" the girl nodded and sent a tired smile her way. that was enough of a thank you for y/n and she immediately stood up to try and see where she was needed next.

zoya had climbed her way down as soon as she could and panic filled her when she couldn't find y/n anywhere. this was where she'd seen the boy take her to?! but as she walked back, she saw the girl tending to a wounded man and a sigh of relief left her mouth. she watched y/n stand up,

"can you tend to my shoulder next?"

y/n's head whipped around at the familiar voice, and even if it sounded hoarse and tired, she could still hear a playful undertone.

"thank the saints! you're alright!" y/n went in for a hug but reminded herself of zoya's injured shoulder and squeezed the girl's hand instead.

"who else sent us back?" zoya smiled tiredly and let y/n pull her out off the chaos on the ship to be sat down on the docks. the healer helped her out of her kefta and zoya noticed y/n was trying to suppress a meek smile at the sight of the talisman that clung around zoya's neck.

zoya closed her eyes as y/n's soft hands made contact with her bare shoulder and she only dared to open them again once the pain was replaced by the familiar feeling of a healing itch. she grabbed the healer's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"are you still hurting?"

zoya let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head, "no, i believe i'm fine now. just a bit shaken."

y/n nodded and stared off into the distance, she knew exactly what zoya meant. a soft tug on her hand made her look back at the blue eyed girl.

"i'm sorry."

"zoya nazyalensky saying sorry? that's a first."

"hush you, i'm serious. don't make me regret this." zoya rolled her eyes, glad to have this y/n back. for a second, back in the fold, when she saw y/n so tensed up as she was reliving her trauma, zoya was afraid she might never get her back, if they were to even get out of the fold alive. but here she was, holding the girl's hand and staring into her eyes. she was here. with her.

"it was wrong of me to downplay your worries when i knew where they stemmed from. you've had to go through that, see that happen... and it was only fair of you to fear my departure. i should've written to you and-"

"zoya, it's quite-"

"let me finish." a light squeeze in her hand and a somewhat serious glare from zoya made y/n shut up, "i also shouldn't have treated you like i did last night. but can you try to imagine the worry i felt when i realised you were going to do the crossing? if something happened to you, that would've been because of me. you were on that ship because i was there, because i didn't write back."

"i would've taken the offer even if you had written to me, to be quite honest..."

zoya rolled her eyes, "of course you would've."

"zoya, when will you understand that i'll always try to have your back?

"but why must you put yourself in harm's way to do so?"

"because that's just how it goes!" y/n squeezed zoya's hand this time, trying to get her message across. "we're companions remember?"

zoya smiled softly and put a strand of hair behind y/n's ear before she wiped away the dirt on the girl's temple. her fingers then travelled down the girl's cheek and jaw before resting there, "i think we're more than companions, don't you think?" her striking blue eyes then looked directly into y/n's, immediately captivating the girl like she was some siren trying to lure her into the pools of her eyes.

"are we?" y/n's voice was small.

"have you forgotten about kissing me already? should you need a reminder?"

"no- i haven't, i remember!" her cheeks turned scarlet as zoya tilted her head in a playful manner. oh gods, how stupid could she be. "i mean, i don't. a reminder would be nice?" the meekness of y/n's voice warmed zoya up and she stroked the girl's bottom lip with the pad of her thumb,

"you sure?"

y/n nodded, but that wasn't what would satisfy zoya.

"talk. use your voice."

"yes, i'm sure."

zoya lifted her chin and looked at her in a way only she could, but it wasn't disrespectful at all. she looked at y/n as if she was the only girl in the world, but even if she wasn't, she'd still pick her. she'd pick her as a friend, a companion, or whatever they were going to be next.

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - chapter 2

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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Since a few people seemed to enjoy the first chapter, I decided to continue this story.  You can find the first chapter here And you can read the story on AO3 here.

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CHAPTER 2

Flower Girl ASMR 1 day ago I am so happy that I could help you sleep, @Shadowsinger <3 ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. It is that tingly feeling you might get from certain sounds. You can also have visual triggers. Supposedly, if you find the right triggers, they will help you relax and they can even help you sleep.  I hope that sleep treats you with kindness from now on.

Azriel stared at his screen. She had responded. She had actually responded to his message. He had scrolled through her comment section again to see if she replied to all her messages, but she didn’t. She liked most comments, but she only replied to a few. It made him feel special, which was absurd. Why did he feel special because some girl on the internet had replied to his comment? She had probably already forgotten about it.

But Azriel carried it with him for the rest of the day.

He also carried with him the annoyance of some of the comments he had seen. This girl really needed to learn how to block some words. Especially: boobs, nudes, cock, jerk off, and cum. Azriel made a disgusted face when he thought about it. If they knew each other, he would help her with that.

But they didn’t know each other, so Azriel didn’t have to think about it. Those comments shouldn’t affect Azriel in the slightest. He had read way nastier things on the internet and never cared.

What was it about this girl?

Azriel was sitting at his desk. He was working at Velaris Times – a web-based newspaper that his best friend Rhysand had started a few years ago. He hired Azriel to work in IT and their other friend, Cassian, as a photographer. It was a pretty small newspaper, so they all felt like family there.

Azriel was feeling naturally energized for the first time in his life. He didn’t even need to down his usual three cups of coffee this morning. Cassian was sitting next to him, editing some photos for an article that their co-worker Mor had written.

“You wanna grab some lunch later?” Cassian asked.

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave his computer, but he nodded in agreement. “Sure. Should we invite Rhys?”

Cassian snorted. “Nah, he’s on that weird health-cleanse, remember? Feyre probably packed him a kale juice and some broccoli.”

Azriel chuckled. Feyre was Rhys’s wife and since they decided to get pregnant, she had been all about healthy eating, to Rhysand’s dismay. He wasn’t even allowed coffee - it was all about the green tea! Some days, Cassian and Azriel ate their lunches at the office which always lead to Rhys staring longingly at their food. It felt like having a dog begging for scraps underneath the dinner table.

“So that’s still going on, huh? I thought he would have given up by now. There’s only that much kale you can eat,” Azriel said.

“Yeah, but he’s whipped. Remember when they first started dating and she served him soup from a can and he ate it like it was a gourmet meal.”

“Fair enough.”

“You know that I can hear you, assholes?” Rhys called from his office. They had been very aware of this fact. Rhys strode out of his office, wearing his usual uniform of a dark suit and a crisp white shirt. Azriel was happy that he worked in IT so he could get away with just wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt - and maybe a hoodie on cold days.

“Are you telling me that Nesta doesn’t have you wrapped around her little finger?” Rhys smirked and leaned against the doorframe.

Cassians ears turned red. “She could never get me to drink kale-smoothies every day.”

Rhys shook his head. “You were pining for her for two years before she even agreed to go on a date with you. She could probably tie you to your bed and get you to call her mistress if she wanted to.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair and gave Rhys a purely male grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Azriel groaned. “Too much information, Cass.”

Cassian shrugged. “Don’t be so sensitive, Az.”

Azriel glared at him. “I’m not sensitive just because I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”

“That’s because you don’t have a sex life,” Cassian muttered under his breath, which elicited a burst of laughter that sounded more like a snort from Rhys.

Azriel shook his head and tried to concentrate on his work, which was almost impossible when his two friends were still staring at him. He could almost feel them scheming.

“Hey, Az. How’s the dating going?” Rhys asked.

Azriel didn’t answer, mostly because the answer would be that it  didn’t. He didn’t date. He was tired of going on dates with people he didn’t know. He wasn’t very talkative, so dates were basically his nightmare. And it was even worse when he agreed to download Tinder on a drunken night a few months ago. Dating like that just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to meet someone on the internet like that.

“You want me to set you up on a blind date?” Cassian asked, and Azriel pretended not to hear him.

“Nesta has some great friends,” he continued. “What about Gwyn?”

Rhys nodded. “Yeah, Gwyn is a nice girl.”

Azriel stared at his friends. “I’ve met Gwyn.”

“So?”

“If I’ve already met her, it’s not a blind date.”

Cassian thought about it for a second and shrugged. “Eh, semantics. Should I tell Nesta to give her a call?”

“No. She’s not my type.”

Truthfully, Gwyn was a very sweet girl. She was cute and funny and determined, but she just wasn’t for Azriel. They had met a few times but there had been no attraction - no sparks. Azriel wanted to feel something from the start. He didn’t want to be in a relationship just to avoid being lonely.

“So, what is your type exactly?” Rhys asked.

An image popped into Azriel’s head. Usually, he couldn’t imagine what his type would be, but now, he saw someone in his mind. She had golden hair and cute little freckles on her nose. She was gentle, kind and calm.

It was Flower Girl ASMR.

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to get the picture of her out of his head. What was wrong with him? He didn’t want to date someone he had only seen in a few videos. That made him as creepy as those assholes in her comment section. He didn’t even know her. He didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t know,” Azriel muttered. “Could you please let me get back to my work?”

And after a few more suggestions of people they could set him up with (he kindly, but firmly, declined), they finally let him work.

That night, Flower Girl ASMR was hosting a livestream on YouTube. Azriel wondered if they might live in the same time zone since the live stream seemed to coincide with a reasonable bedtime for him.

Azriel joined the livestream just a few minutes after it had started.  A few hundred people were already logged in. Flower Girl ASMR was sitting in front of a background that looked like the night sky; dark blue and full of fairy lights. Her hair hung in waves around her face and she was wearing a pink top that matched her complexion. Not that Azriel noticed such things, why would he?

She was brushing her camera with a make-up brush, making it look as if she was brushing his face. “I am so happy that you all could join me here tonight,” she whispered into her microphone. “As promised, I was going to host my first livestream when we reached one hundred thousand subscribers, which we did last week.” She smiled at the camera, one of those smiles that reached her eyes. Azriel could feel himself smile back. Which was stupid. She couldn’t see him. “Tonight, you can make requests or ask questions in the comments, and I will answer a few of your questions,” she continued. She was still moving the brush over the screen. The combination of her whispering voice and the visual trigger of the brush made Azriel tingle all over.

Most comments were very nice; telling her that she helped them sleep, or wanting her to say hello to them. People asked her about her favorite color and if she had any pets (lilac and no). One person asked her to do something called hand sounds, and Azriel had never in his life appreciated hands rubbing together as much as he did at that very moment. Maybe it was something with the setting on her microphone, but the sound was like a wave of pleasure in his brain.

He could feel himself relax. But then, of course, the nasty comments started.

HybernCoolKid Show a little skin babyyyy. Those tits look perky af

MortalGraysen Trying to look so innocent when you’re a fucking slut

Amarantha_utm I would honestly rather watch paint dry

Azriel could feel his blood boil. He recognized the names from the video he had watched last night. Why didn’t she just block them? On the screen, he could tell that Flower Girl had seen the messages; her face fell for just a second. And one second was all it took for Azriel to suddenly feel very protective. He was just about to go tell them to go fuck themselves when he saw that he wasn’t the only one with that idea. The comment section was flooded with love for her and in just a matter of moments, the mean comments were drowned in a sea of heart emojis. Flower Girl smiled at the screen, silently thanking all of her followers for the love. But she didn’t address the hate. She just kept going as if nothing had happened. There were a few more nasty comments during the livestream, but the same thing happened every time; her followers love-bombed her. Azriel was happy to see that most people seemed decent enough, but god, she really needed to learn how to block people.

Before he could think about it, he clicked the link in her description that led to her Instagram. Her username was the same on that app, and it was mainly used to tell her followers when a new video was uploaded. Azriel quickly looked at his own feed, making sure that there was nothing embarrassing. There wasn’t. He didn’t post very often, and when he did he usually posted pictures of food.

He clicked the button for her DMs, and before he could talk himself out of it, he wrote her a message.

Shadowsinger Hey! I just watched your livestream (it was great!) but I couldn’t help but notice some really rude comments. I hope you don’t find this weird, but have you tried blocking them? If you don’t know how, I could send you a link that will describe how to do it. God, this is weird, isn’t it? If this message makes you uncomfortable, just delete it. I’m sorry. But if you need help with blocking those douchebags, please tell me.

He sent it without even reading it and as soon as it was out in cyberspace, he groaned. What the fuck was he doing? She wasn’t his friend. She wasn’t his anything. Yet, there was something that drew him to her. Maybe it was the fact that she helped him sleep? Yes, that had to be it. It was either that or witchcraft, and Azriel didn’t believe in the occult.

Azriel was just about to put his phone in another room and go die from embarrassment when he saw that she had answered his DM. He was afraid to open it. What if she told him to fuck off? He would never be able to watch her videos again, and then he would never again feel rested.

FlowerGirlAsmr Hello! I recognized your username from one of my videos! I’m happy that you enjoyed the livestream :) I have blocked them multiple times, but they keep coming back. But thank you for offering to help me. That is very sweet!  Ps: The lasagna on your feed looks delicious.

Azriel stared at the message dumbfounded. She had answered him. And she didn’t tell him to fuck off. She had remembered his username. And she thought that his food looked delicious. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt so nervous. Should he tell her that after watching her video he had the best night’s sleep of his life?

Probably not. That might sound creepy.

Shadowsinger Yeah, I commented last night. Have you tried blocking words from appearing in your comments? If you did that, you might not have to endure such nasty comments.  (Yes, the lasagna was very delicious)

He was staring at his message. Did he sound stupid?

Yeah, he definitely sounded stupid.  The lasagna was very delicious ? Why did he add that?

Stupid, stupid, stupid

But despite his stupidity, she answered.

FlowerGirlASMR You can do that?? I had no idea! I am not very good at computers. Honestly, I have to google every single thing about YouTube because I understand nothing, haha. How do I block words?

Shadowsinger I’ll send you a link that describes the process!

He sent her the link and waited for a few minutes, feeling happy to help her.

FlowerGirlASMR I hope you don’t think I’m stupid, but I understood absolutely nothing :( Is there a link for dummies?

Azriel laughed at the last part of her message.

Shadowsinger Unfortunately not. But if you want, I could help you.

She didn’t answer him for a while after that. Azriel was staring at his phone, trying to will a message to appear. Did he cross a line?

FlowerGirlASMR I won’t give you the details to my account. We don’t know each other.

Oh god. She thought that he was trying to scam her or something. Fuck.

Shadowsinger I don’t need to log into your account.

He sent the message quickly.

Shadowsinger I could guide you if you like? I work in IT so I’m used to just guiding people through these things.

FlowerGirlASMR How could we do that? I’m not very good at understanding instructions when they are written…

Azriel had an idea and it was both brilliant and idiotic. He typed quickly before the logical part of his brain told him to stop helping this girl he didn’t know.

Shadowsinger I could give you my number and guide you through the phone? I could share my screen with you so you could follow along like that if you are more of a visual learner. You could call me with a hidden number.

He added the last sentence to make her feel safer. And because he didn’t trust himself to have access to her number.

Again, he had to wait for a small eternity before her message popped up.

FlowerGirlASMR That would be great! Could I call you tomorrow at 10.00?

He didn’t even check his schedule before typing “Yes.”

She answered with a smiley.

Azriel sent her his number and she said that she would call, and that was that.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Azriel muttered to himself and got back to bed.

He opened the youtube app, and one of her videos was the first one he saw. His finger hovered above the video. Would it be weird to watch her now that they had messaged each other? He decided to click another ASMR video instead. And then another. And then another.

After 2 hours, he realized that all ASMR was not equal.

So he gave in and clicked on one of her videos. Flower Girl ASMR’s face filled his screen. “Hello my lovelies, lovelies, lovelies,” she whispered, and Azriel thought that she was the loveliest person he had ever seen.

Five minutes later, he was fast asleep.

[writer-panda]

Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 2/Take me out maybe (with a sniper rifle)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous or Batman (and other DC characters). This is just a fanfiction. 

Chapter 1  -|-  Next

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As much as Marinette disliked the meeting with the female entourage, when the time came to start working on Adrien’s suit she wanted to scream. She could clearly see that he was uncomfortable with even the gentlest touches. She did her best to make it as non-invasive to him as possible.

They had absolutely no privacy whatsoever. The Bodyguard (Gerard; His name was Gerard) and Nathalie observed their every move. Marinette was half-convinced it wasn’t her who was under watch. 

The professional atmosphere was far cry from her usual working environment. When Uncle Jagged, Clara Nightingale, or even Diana Prince came to her for clothes, it was always very informal. They would joke, gossip, or exchange stories while she worked. Now? Now she was wary of even speaking with Adrien. 

Likewise, the boy refused to meet her eyes or open his mouth. 

At some point, when she was trying to find the right shade of white for the undershirt, she noticed a make-up stain that was not there before. 

“I’m sorry, but I will need to request you remove the makeup. It is staining my materials.” She informed Nathalie and Gerard coldly. It was all she could do to resist calling the police there and there. Sadly, the commissioner was good friends with Gabriel, so it would most likely just end her career and make it worse for Adrien. 

“I was assured it would not leave stains on materials. Please accept our apologies. We will cover the costs of destroyed materials,” Nathalie informed her in an equally cold voice.

“I see…” Marinette’s lips thinned. Inside, she was screaming. But there was nothing she could do. The hit was in place. Soon Adrien would be safe. It would go without a hitch. It had to. 

As the group was leaving, she could’ve sworn the Bodyguard gave her a mournful look. As if he shared her sentiment, but was powerless to stop it. She’d know that look. She saw it in the mirror all too often.

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The Wedding (even the narrator started to capitalize it) came faster than Marinette wanted to accept. And there were still no words about the kidnapping. She made sure to specify that they were to take him before he was married or no payment. Did she not make the money enticing enough? Were there already attempts that were stopped without media coverage? Maybe she forgot to check some boxes?

A million scenarios ran through her head as she wandered through the alleyways.

The whole event was happening in Gotham Botanic Garden. Whatever the weak excuse was given to the press, Marinette knew the real reason: it was one of the few places in the world where Gabriel could marry his son to Lila legally without messing with courts. And bribes were said to be cheapest there. 

As the designer for both the bride and the groom, she was invited to the main ceremony. 

Lila was kind enough to even give her a seated place… right next to Chloé Bourgeois.

Marinette had a hard time deciding if it was bigger punishment to her or the mayor’s daughter. Ultimately, the two girls did their best to not look at each other during preparations. At first, that is, because the first chance she got, Chloé to drag the designer to a remote garden gazebo in a secluded corner when she was least expecting it.

“Wha-!” Marinette was about to protest, but the blonde covered her mouth. She seated her on the bench and took the seat on the opposite side. 

“I’ve been friends with Adrien since we were kids.” She announced in the usual ‘I’m-better-than-you’ tone. “I also know that you’re not always an idiot.”

“Gee! Thanks, Chloé… I’m honored with your praise.” Marinette deadpanned, interrupting the heiress. “Now get to the point”. She really hoped her dress wasn’t damaged or she might just turn to murder. 

“Fine. You worked with Adrien on his suit.” She paused, and for a moment, just a brief moment, her mask fell. That was not what Marinette expected. She has never seen Chloé so… so… The designer’s brain lacked the word to describe how her childhood bully looked like. “How is he?” The blonde asked, her voice almost trembling. 

Marinette opened her mouth, but no sound came. 

A moment passed.

“Not good.” She finally admitted. “During the measurements, he winced even at delicate touches. Plus I was called in last week to make some adjustments to his garments. He lost weight between then and now. And he wore makeup on his right arm. On both occasions.”

“Makeup?” Chloé’s eyes widened. 

“Yes. I would’ve probably missed it if I didn’t soak my fabric into makeup removed beforehand.” She thought back fondly to her brilliant idea. 

“They hurt him!?” Chloé burst out after few seconds. “I will show those… those…”

“Believe me, I share the sentiment.” Marinette nodded sagely. She needed plan B and needed it fast. There had to be something… “I slipped him a burner phone on his way out. I doubt they found it. If it gets really bad, he can try calling the police.”

“You are devious sometimes, Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Thanks. I try.” 

“So… they are coercing him into it?”

“I think so. He is resigned to his fate it seems, but he tries to show some rebelliousness. It wasn’t his father’s idea to hire me and Lila would rather walk to the altar naked than wear anything by me.” Marinette cringed. Any interaction she had with the Liar made her feel almost dirty. And forcing politeness was physically painful sometimes. 

“I got that much from the fact he hasn’t reported it yet. That burner phone was a good move, but Adrikins was always too obedient.”

“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with it,” Marinette muttered, but Chloé didn’t hear her. The heiress somehow managed to derail her rant into telling the story of her entire childhood.

Marinette listened only with one ear, filtering the information for something useful. The rest of her consciousness focused on something else. She started to seriously entertain the idea of using Miraculous to get Adrien out. She would need a combination of several powers though. Trixx was the obvious choice. Illusions would be a great asset. Maybe the Tiger, for the Power Up? If Roaar didn’t exaggerate her power, she would be able to put a distance between them and the city before anyone even realized what happened. She would need to time her illusion right though. And there were the American Heroes to watch out for…

If she didn’t use miraculous immediately, she might get a drop on the bodyguard(s) and then make an exit using Kaalki’s power when they were alone. Disable cameras, take out the guards, get in, portal out. It was feasible but still involved too many risks. If anyone connected miraculi to the operation, Ladybug would be in great trouble. She couldn’t endanger Paris like that… not even for her partner and best friend. 

Then, there was the most dangerous plan. Don’t use Miraculi at all. She was confident enough in her skills to enter undetected. Maybe even sneak out. The question was, would Adrien make it. She could sneak him Plagg’s ring. Chat Noir would have no problem leaving any prison. But… there would be the same risk as when any other Miraculi was connected and the whole point was not to use them in the first place. 

“Ugh!” She let out an angry sound that startled Chloé. 

“What’s with you, Dupain-Cheng! Don’t you see I’m opening my heart to you!?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to do something productive.” She snapped at the blonde. 

“Why, I…”

“Silence. Your tale was entirely unhelpful. Let me focus.” 

Gotham. What was in Gotham that could help her? The most corrupt city, famous for its high crime rate, mad villains, and eternal gloominess. Even now she could feel some of it resonate in the air. As if the whole city was one big Akuma. Probably no help from the establishment… The police were more likely to put a bag on her head and deliver her to one of the crime families… 

“What in Gotham can help…” She voiced her musing loudly, causing Chloé to peak up.

“Waynes!” She proclaimed. “That serial adopter would jump at the chance to get another orphan…”

“Adrien isn’t an orphan… Yet.” Marinette grumbled. “But he will be married by then, so I would need to plan a double homicide… Meh. No great loss.” She said without a shadow of care. It was like the thoughts about the murder were completely normal for her. 

Chloé shivered. “Remind me not to get into your way when you’re in that mood.”

In the distance, the orchestra was starting to play, signaling the guests that the ceremony would start soon.

“Ugh! Hawkmoth it!” Marinette raged as she ran to the clearing. She no longer had the time and if she was the only one missing, Lila would make her prime suspect for anything that happened. Blast it. She would get one more chance. Screw the career. She could survive living somewhere in Argentina if it all went to hell. 

-------

Adrien already accepted his fate. His father and Lila made sure that all avenues of further rebellion were closed. He exhausted everything there was. 

To this day, he was grateful for that burner phone from Marinette. He made sure to hide it but always have it somewhere nearby. It became a form of a lifeline for him. A one-off save-your-life ticket. It would only work in short term, but at the rate everything was going, it could potentially save his life…

He missed his life before the mess with The Wedding started. 

Hell! He even missed Plagg’s stinking cheese. He would maim for some camembert.

“Adrien,” Gerard spoke solemnly. There was no need for more words. They both knew what was about to happen and Adrien took just a bit of solace in the fact that he was not entirely alone, even if no one could help him. 

“I’m ready.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

Before he realized it, the ceremony was undergoing. Lila, in her stunning dress, held the attention on herself like a pro. No one even thought about looking anywhere but at them. The dress was similarly just so… Lila. It made all of her features all the more proponent. Yet, there was just a small, barely noticeable, stitch that said Marinette. A smile ghosted his face. There was some good out of this. He managed to make his friend famous. After today, no one would deny her style. 

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The marriage officiant spoke. Adrien didn’t even care what convention the wedding was in. 

The silence swept across the garden. 

No one dared to even breathe loudly.

Adrien lowered his head. Here, the last…

There was a rustle somewhere close to the front. He looked up, a small glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. 

Marinette was standing there, her backs straightened and one finger held up. “I…”

She felt the gaze of hundreds of guests on her. They were the most influential people in the world of modern business. Waynes. Luthor. Queen. Burgeiose. Agreste… And they all kept staring at her. 

She tried to swipe the hall with a glance, but something attracted her attention. A glint of light somewhere in the distance.

“Watch out!” She shouted, tossing a chair she was sitting on just a moment ago. 

The metal item sailed through the air until it crashed in the middle of the alley.

With an arrow sticking out of it.

For a second (which felt much longer) everyone stared at it.

Then the mass panic started. People got out of their chairs and started trying to get out of there. They trampled one another as each considered themselves to be the most important, hence first to evacuate. It was chaos.

Among the mass of people, Marinette tried her best to make it to the altar. She saw that Gerard and several other hired bodyguards were of similar minds. 

She managed to squeeze through the crowd the fastest, only to find Lila knocked out and Adrien and the Officiant missing. Adrien’s cousin (best man) and Alya (bridesmaid) were both nowhere to be found. They probably ran away. There was still no trace of the Groom. That is until she saw a giant mass of brown mud dragging the boy away. 

The sad thing? Adrien wasn’t really protesting much. 

Gerard was the next to make it through. He noticed Adrien a tad quicker and tried to chase whoever it was that tried to kidnap Adrien, but a fist made of mud slammed into him, sending him flying away. 

“Holy Hawkmoth!” Marinette cursed once more. Okay, so far, it was only a curse for her, but he deserved it. 

In the distance, police sirens could’ve been heard, but with how fast the mud was escaping, Adrien would be long gone before the police arrived. Marinette had to do something.

Wait… Why am I trying to stop the kidnapping I ordered? She suddenly questioned herself, freezing in place. 

Two guards rushed past her and started firing at the mass, but the bullets seemed to be about as effective as Parisian police when dealing with Akuma. 

The last Marinette saw of Adrien he was being taken into the sewers.

-----------

After the police arrived, Marinette was of course first to be interrogated. (“Gee… Thanks, Lila”). They wanted to know how she noticed the arrow, did she see the attacker, how did the kidnapper looked like, and dozens of other questions. By the end, she was exhausted. Somewhere after the sixth question, her phone pinged. Luckily, the police didn’t bother with checking it and believed that it was just a worried friend. 

Not the kidnapper trying to contact their employer.

Finally, after the police released her and informed her that no further information was needed, she could contact her Maman.

“Sweety? Are you okay? I’ve seen the news!” Was the first thing that came through

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine. The police held me back for questioning a bit. I’m going back to the hotel and be back in Paris first flight tomorrow, okay?”

“Stay in Gotham! I’m coming to pick you up!” Her mother informed her.

“Wha-!? But there is no need! Seriously Maman! There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

There was a silence on the line for a moment and Marinette could feel that her mother was trying to glare at her through the phone. It worked. 

“Fine… I’m at Wayne Plaza, room 30-14.” She relented, not wanting any more arguments. She would still have several hours to sort the mess with Adrien. What could possibly go wrong?

Trying her best to be careful, Marinette left the site of crime and traveled to the industrial district. The taxi driver couldn’t be bothered less about why she wanted to go there. He just wanted to get paid and leave. 

The only-slightly-creepy aura of the completely silent area full of factories and warehouses served as a perfect background to contacting the kidnapper. Marinette, after making sure she was truly alone, activated the voice-scrambling app on her burner and dialed the number that sent her the text about successful work. Her Maman showed her that, thinking she wanted it for a prank. Or that’s how Marinette presented it anyway.

“Who is this?!” A voice on the other side of the call asked.

Marinette took a deep breath before answering. “I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” She tried her best to channel Chloé into her voice. 

“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.”

“What do you mean ‘complication’?” She hissed into the phone call. 

“Um… I had the package… But then someone stole the stolen package…” Whoever that was informed her. 

“Who?” She demanded. 

“Last I checked, Lawton was the one who had ‘im… But it might’ve changed. But don’t worry, Boss… lady?” They asked. Marinette didn’t give either confirmation or scolding, so they continued. “I’m still in the game.” With that, they hang up. 

“What did I just get myself into…” She moaned. Then, the realization hit her. “What did I just get Adrien into…”

Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes. 

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

[mytwilightimagines13]

Pet (Part Fourteen)

Masterlist Pet Masterlist Rules Prompt list

Headcanon requests: Open Imagine requests: Closed Prompt list requests: Open Canon questions: Open Taglist: Open

Taglist: @aro-is-gay-af @vamp-army @raindancer2004 @like-rain-or-confetti @volturidoll13 @kpopgirlbtssvt @avyannadawn @alexavolturisblog @alecvolturiswifeforever @imaginetwilight2704 @develin13 @wallwriterstuff @volturiwolf @marcusofthevolturi

Word count: 1.668

14th of December 2006, Volterra, Italy

Weeks passed by and soon the sticky warmth of summer turned into that coolness of Autumn. And a few weeks later, when December had arrived, the rain increased significantly along with the cold. The castle, that was pleasantly cool in the summer, was immensely cold in the winter. Thankfully for me, I no longer was obliged to wear the short dresses as I no longer was the secretary, but they still would appreciate it when I did. The past few months had been mostly filled by me learning all there is about the vampire world. Mostly by the kings and queens as they had been alive for around 3.000 years and new almost anything about how the word had changed, how the vampires had influenced those changes and soon they would teach me all about the other creatures roaming these lands or those who had once roamed here.

“It is quite easy. Just make sure no appointments clash. Make sure to keep feeding times in mind. The Masters, Mistresses and elite guard feed once every week on Mondays, while the rest of the guard feeds in groups every other week on Friday's. Feeding time is always between 13:00 and 15:00, and during those times you are prohibited from entering the throne room.” I explain to the new secretary, the third one since I retired from my position. Her name was Veronica, yet I didn't think she was the right one either for this job, just a pretty face like the last two were. She had beautiful dark skin and eyes that were almost black that complimented her black hair. Over all she was gorgeous, but I am not sure if she would fit for this job. Oh well, time will tell. “Do you have any more questions for me, Veronica?” I asked kindly. She returned the smile almost enthusiastic. “Thank you, Miss Mandy. I think I understand.” she said politely. I was still slightly taken back by the fact the secretaries called me ‘Miss’ now. It wasn't necessary for me but especially the kings and queens insisted on it. Claiming I was above the secretaries and other humans now. It was nonsense in my opinion, yet every time I tried protesting to it only ended up with me being spanked, kissed or fucked on the spot, so I had stopped complaining about it. Vampire truly were thick headedly stubborn when they make up their minds. “I am glad to hear that. If you do need me, I can usually be found in the library, my room or the Masters’ combined living quarters. Goodluck.” I said before turning around and making my way to the throne room. Caius and Athenodora would be teaching me about their war against the werewolves. One the couple had started centuries ago before even joining the Volturi.

Once I reached the heavy doors, I knocked on them and before I knew it, they were opened by Demetri and Felix, both with large smiles on their faces. “Micetta! We were starting to get worried that you might fancy spending time with the new secretary over us.” Demetri said in a playful mocking tone. I heard Heidi snort and a growl of annoyance from one of the queens. I giggled and pecked his lips as a greeting. “Never.” I quickly pecked Felix’ lips as well before moving Heidi who wrapped her arms around me and kissed me shortly but passionately, leaving my head spinning a bit. I quickly moved towards the kings and queens who were all gathered around a table in the corner of the throne room that was covered in many books in many different languages, both old and new. The kings all looked very handsome in their black suits. Aro and Caius were wearing a bloodred tie while Marcus’ tie was as black as his suit. The queens looked beautiful as always. Sulpicia was dressed in a gorgeous bloodred dress that seemed to be made out of liquid as it flowed around her tall frame. Athenodora, on the other hand, wore a dress made out of emerald green fabric that seemed to be very cosy yet expensive. Both their skirts reached just above their ankles while matching shoes and jewellery made their looks complete. I quickly pecked Aro and Sulpicia on their lips before moving to Marcus. He stood up and embraced me first before pecking my lips, making me blush a bit and him chuckle. I first pecked Caius on the lips who gave me a kind smile and finally I turned my attention to Dora. She smiled brightly at me and pulled me onto her lap. Her hand cupped my cheek and she kissed me quickly yet deeply. “I am glad you are not lost. Caius and I started to worry that you indeed fancied the new woman's company above ours.” she said with a playful pout. “Of course not, Mistress.” I said loyally making her pout turn into a grin. “Good, good. Now, let us start with today's lesson on the war against werewolves... And the reason why the goddess Athena was named after me.” she said winking. “Really?” I asked surprised. “Oh yes. We saved a couple villages back in the old days by killing many of the werewolves during their attacks. We had to use special blades made out of silver that were laced with our venom. Not exactly for the faint of heart to make and dangerous if done wrong. The chemical reaction of the silver, steel and our venom could prove lethal for most humans when inhaled.” Caius started to explain and I was immediately hooked onto his lips while Dora held me close in her lap, her chin lightly resting on my shoulder with her nose buried in my lose curls. “Really? What happens to the humans who tried making those swords?” I asked curiously which only seemed to fuel Caius’ enthusiasm to continue his story. “The damp coming from the weapons while being forged could burn the skin and make it even melt away at its mere touch. When inhaled, it would burn the human their lungs from the inside out, making them suffocate in mere, agonising minutes. Eventually, we had only vampires craft these weapons, but they had to be careful, as silver is a very delicate metal and we vampires sometimes have difficult controlling our strength. Also, the blood would be contaminated so the humans, once come in contact with these damps, were no longer of use to us.” He explained. He was about to continue his story when he suddenly stopped and every vampire in the room seemed to be on edge. Their relaxed faces and stances I had come accustomed to melted away into the ones usually meant for outsiders. Someone was approaching, someone who was not an ally. In the blink of an eye, I was on the other side of the throne room behind the actual thrones along with Dora and Sulpicia. Caius still stood standing up but now with his back towards the door, same as Marcus while Aro remained seated casually reading his book. Dora had put me into the only chair in front of the small table while Sulpicia had quickly placed three books in front of us, to make it seem we were

busy. Both Athenodora and Sulpicia stood on either side of me, in a casual yet protective manner. I frowned slightly at their quick change in behaviour and spot but Sulpicia gave me a look that said to not ask questions at this moment. So, I didn't and pretended to read the book in front of me. Sadly, for me, it was written in what I guessed was ancient Greek and I had absolutely no idea what it said. The doors busted open as Santiago walked into the throne room followed by another vampire. Her hair was pale, pale blonde, almost silver. It hung straight as a ruler to a blunt edge at her chin, parted evenly down the centre. She was very pale as every other vampire yet her eyes were different. They were the same golden colour as Alice and Edward Cullen had. Was she from the same coven? Caius loudly closed his book, making me flint slightly before turning around. I didn't need to see his face to know his usual scowl had returned as I saw the vampire woman flinch in her spot. “What do you want?” he asked suspicious. The woman's golden eyes quickly flashed to every vampire in the room yet they lingered on my form a little longer. “Hm?” Caius asked again growing annoyed at the woman's lack of response. The woman seemed to regain herself again and took a step forward while Felix, Demetri and Santiago stood on both her sides and behind her, ready to attack at any moment. Heidi, I had now realised, was standing near us in a protective manner. Probably in case the woman did manage to escape the three male vampires around her and planned on attacking the queens. The woman's attention was now fully on the three kings. She straightened her back and tried to not make her voice tremple. “I have to report a crime.” she started, sorrow deeply in her golden eyes. “The Cullens-” she started, gaining the attention of all three the kings and both queens. “- they have done something...” she tried to find the right word for the Cullens’ their crime. “-Terrible.” she finally decided. Aro quickly shut his book and rushed towards her. “Allow me, my dear?” he asked, his voice as sweet as sugar and as velvet as cotton candy. I had completely forgotten about pretending to seem busy as I watched Aro intensely. Marcus made his way besides Aro, but glanced at me first, giving me a reassuring look before his face turned like stone again as he faced the woman. Aro had by now grabbed the woman's hand in his and a small gasp escaped his lips. “Oh my.”

[janamelie]

Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel.  Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required.  (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con.  There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once.  He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot.  What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration.  Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage.  She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets.  The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree.  It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online.  It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.  

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo.  You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie.  DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!”  Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!”  When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two?  That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying.  (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment.  This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”.  Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic.  Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining.  The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I).  He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.  

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it.  He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes.  Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party.  But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke.  Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke?  And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas.  He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon.  We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start.  An hour later we were still waiting.  Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop.  You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see.  Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left.  That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up).  This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe.  Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell.  I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy.  He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things.  He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!”  But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are.  He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!”  (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!”  He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc.  It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie.  Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online.  It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness.  Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit.  He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family.  His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”.  He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig.  No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question.  Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration.  He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat.  This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day.  “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out.  If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett.  I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful.  She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly.  Fortunately mine was the version including him. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees.  Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen.  I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle.  Oh well.  He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition.  This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”.  Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details.  Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item.  This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman.  It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel.  When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality.  We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed.  Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else.  The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end.  The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well.  Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.  

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse.  Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now!  Stop saying yes to things!”  It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit.  Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings.  One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode.  He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him.  Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright.  He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it.  He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance.  Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes.  Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir?  Were you on the telly last night?”  “Yes.”  “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later?  Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny.  Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them.  That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman.  Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes.  Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.  

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.”  What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie!  One episode, that’s all I ask.  As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson.  For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour.  For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping.  Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel.  So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them.  There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!”  It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was.  He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station.  Another great DJ.

[i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie]

Call Me Mother, Chapter One

I languidly drained the last breath from my cigarette, the drag filling my lungs. My garter straps hung down lazily, tickling my thighs, as they awaited their purpose. Music thumped rapidly, and whoops of delight resounded through the hall. The dressing room door swung open; a small, but curvaceous woman behind it.

Her eyebrows were tweezed to perfection, eyes deeply shadowed, eyelashes false and curled into large feathery swoops; her mouth was like a plump strawberry. I’d always harbored a mild curiosity about how it tasted.

“Mary, you’re up in 10 minutes. I want you at the curtain in five," Cristella said, her hispanic accent thick.

“Is that a new corset?” I asked. Cristella turned me around, and yanked the laces of my corset together. Thank god I haven’t needed to breathe for the last 150 years, I thought. I floated a small influence her way. Gentler, please. She complied, unwittingly. They always do.

I don’t normally use my influence on people I like, but I’m far too hungry to risk her pinching me with this corset. I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost control. She was far too kind to die a death that violent.

“It is. This papí chulo I’ve been seeing said he wanted me to wear it for him. Maybe he’ll tip better," she said, carefully pulling the slack out of the lower half of my corset. I placed my hands over my belly, holding everything in place.

“What’s the crowd looking like?” I tucked the ties away. She jutted a hip out, and began counting off on her impeccably manicured fingers.

“The usual crowd. Old Man Carraway, that one divorcee who drinks like a fish. College kids. Oh, there’s also these dudes in silver masks. Low-key kind of demonic. And some weird guy in like, face paint? He’s painted up like a calavera. I figured they came from that concert that was in town. You know, the one that church was protesting? Say they like worship Satan or something?”

“Sounds about right." I bent down to attach my straps to the garters of my stockings.

“They’re probably here for a private room, so I figured I’d put you on now. You’re good at handling the weirdos." Cristella giggled, watching me struggle to get the backs of my stockings attached. She and I broke into fits of giggles, as she chased me in circles, trying to help me attach my stockings.

“Let me get that. Hurry up and get on stage!” she said, giving me a playful smack on the ass. I pranced out of the room, trying to avoid her grasping mitts.

“Hey! No bruising the merchandise!” I giggled, linking arms with her as we strutted backstage, perfectly in step with one another. She grabbed the microphone from Mike the Mic Guy, gave me a wink, and stepped through the curtain.

“Aaaaand we’re back! Now, this next lady I’ve got lined up for you is quite a treat. She’s as pale as cream, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, and will definitely step on you. Well, she might if you tip well. For legal reasons, we can’t call her “Elvira,” so I guess we’ll settle for… MOTHER! MARY!” That was my cue. I sauntered through the curtain, my hips moving like a figure eight. I moved across the stage, “Lullaby” by the Cure playing. I always chose various genres of rock for my acts. Not that I have anything against the other girls’ music choices… but there’s only so much female rap you can play in one night. As I began to dance, I noticed the group that Cristella had mentioned earlier. They were sitting front and center, near the edge of the stage.

Seven of the masked figures sat around the Painted Man, as I had labeled him. Two of the masked figures seemed effeminate, and the other five seemed more masculine. They all ranged in different shapes and sizes. Maybe the masks are a fetish thing? Cristella did say that they came from a concert… Something about them seemed off. I did a swing around the pole, dropping into a fireman, trying to catch a scent. It was a whirlwind of scents, none of them too out of the ordinary. Except the beefy one. He smelled like midnight. I don’t know how to explain it. What really caught my interest though was the Painted Man. Specifically, his eyes. One of them was grey, the iris almost black. The other eye had a pale, white iris. It suited him, and it was beautiful, in an eerie way. Those eyes looked at me, as I danced around the stage, and they knew me. If I had a working heart still, it would be racing.

As Robert Smith crooned, I descended the stairs of the stage as sensually as one could in Pleaser heels, making my way to the Painted Man. If I wanted to know what these people were, I’d have to get a closer look. The Painted Man patted one of his legs with a gloved hand, and cocked his head to the side. I took the invitation, but not before I teased him. I crouched between his legs, running my hands up his thighs. As I rose, I walked my hands up his thighs, bringing my face closer to his. His breath graced my skin, smelling faintly of licorice. As he leaned in, for what I could only assume was a kiss, I rose again, strutting over to one of the masked beings. It was the smaller of the male ones. I sat in his lap, letting him run his hands over me as I began to grind on his lap. His growing erection told me I was going to have a busy night.

“Your boss is a little too eager," I whispered, getting a good whiff of him. He smelled faintly of smoke. I put my hands on his chest, trying to keep my balance. No heartbeat.

“What makes you think he’s my boss?” The being asked petulantly. He grabbed onto my waist, as he began to grind with me. I moved his hand to the small of my back, and leaned back in a dip. The being ran his other hand over my belly, in between my breasts, and up to my throat, bringing me back up to his masked face.

“You’re the one wearing a uniform." I darted my tongue out to lick my lips. What is he? My mind raced as I tried to run through every supernatural creature I’d ever known. But then I heard it. I barely even understood it. All I picked up was price and one night. It was Ghoulish. The taller female ghoul was asking about what I can only assume was my hourly rate. Most strip clubs in this part of Vegas were just fronts for brothels. However, it’s hard to sell the idea of prostitution to Mid-Western vanilla tourists. So most of my income was made from stripping. I usually had one or two clients I went to bed with a night. It wasn’t very stable, but then again, I had less expenses than the average stripper, considering my “condition."

“Tell your friend my basic hourly rate is $500. My Ghoulish isn’t any good." I stood up, and made my way to the female ghoul’s lap.

“How do you know Ghoulish?” she asked, a bit of surprise in her tone. I bent over in front of her, shaking my ass for her. She put a couple of bills in the waistband of my panties, punching my previous ghoul in the arm. He forked over some cash as well.

“I’m not human. I’ll leave it at that," I said, stuffing the cash into the top of my corset. Dear lord… All hundreds… The female ghoul rubbed my thighs, turning me back around slowly, so as to admire my ass.

“Could we get a room after your number? I think a private dance is in order," she said, in broken Ghoulish. I nodded, and as if on cue, the lights and music began to fade out. As I began to walk back up the stairs to the stage past the Painted Man, his hand darted forward to smack my ass. God, it really is not the night for this shit. My more animalistic nature took over, and before I could stop it, a hiss left my lips. As if of their own accord, my fangs sprung painfully through my gums. I heard a snap, and looked over to see the largest ghoul stand up. He shook his head. Thank god the lights were low. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, and made my way across the stage.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Mike the Mic Guy asked, handing a mic to Cristella. I still had my hand over my mouth. Cristella looked worried.

“Are you okay Mary? I can get you some tea if you’re keyed up." I shook my head.

“Please get a room ready. The Freak Parade wants a private dance," I said as I walked away, silently cursing myself. Once back in the dressing room, I threw open the mini-fridge I normally kept padlocked. I looked to the last bottle I had left in my stash. Hopefully it hasn’t clotted, I thought, throwing the bottle back. This wouldn’t end my thirst, but it would certainly quell the burning in my throat. You nearly lost it. You need to bag one of these stupid fucks tonight, or else. I hadn’t had a bad case of blood lust in decades, but the combination of winter holidays, my strict schedule, and FOSTA-SESTA had really cut off my food supply.

The door opened, and Cristella came in with a cup of tea. She looked at the flask in her hand and cocked a brow.

“And you didn’t offer to share. What is that? Cuervo? Henny?” she said, reaching for the flask. I shook my head, and put it back in the fridge, closing the padlock.

“It’s cough syrup. I keep it under lock and key because of that bitch Ronnie. She’s not fooling anybody. You ever see how much her hands shake? Too much caffeine? Yeah, right. We all know what the DTs look like." I began changing into a burgundy velvet bra and panty set, pairing it with some burgundy gloves and stockings. Finally, I found a pair of sparkly Loboutins Lydia had left me. My mind rolled back through the streets of Paris to 1991, when Louboutin opened its first salon. Lydia smiled, as I kissed her shin, helping her into the heel. She looked down at me, her eyes full of love, and the corner of her mouth hiding a kiss just for me.

“Yeah, she is pretty suspish. What happened with those weirdos out there?” Cristella interrupted my memory. I shook my head. Are you just imagining your heartache?

“Oh the big guy was just mad because I didn’t get around to him. That’s why I wanted you to get the room. Plus, I might be able to secure a nice check from these guys. They all seemed absolutely randy," I said. Cristella shook her head, giggling. The gloss in my hand made a popping noise, as I pulled the wand from the bottle. It was my favorite flavor, watermelon.

“I can ask one of the boys to sit in, to keep them from getting too handsy," Cristella said. I shook my head. It would only keep me from getting too handsy, I thought to myself. Bless her heart. I could never make a kill here. I loved the crew here far too much. Plus, I didn’t have a coven. No one to protect me when I fucked up. They kicked me out long ago. It’s the main reason I ended up in Vegas, avoiding the sun when I could, doing my best to keep a legal and convenient profession. Where else could get a job with only night shifts, and a never-ending supply of useless assholes no one cared about?

“I’ll be okay Crissy. Even if they do try something, we have a panic button in there. Don’t worry." I gave her a slimy, glossy kiss on the cheek, earning a shriek from her strawberry mouth. She batted at me, narrowly missing me as I bounded out of the room.

As I approached the bigger of our three private rooms, I noticed two of the larger male ghouls standing outside the door. All of the ghouls dressed similarly, including the female ghouls. But I now noticed the alchemical symbols dangling from their belt chains. The shorter one had a quintessence symbol, the other larger one, an earth symbol. The earth one opened the door, and the quintessence one escorted me in.

“Thank you, Aether. Back to the door with you. Come, have a seat. Dewdrop says there is more to you than meets the eye. Let me pour you a glass of wine, cara," a thick, Italian accent beckoned to me. I walked to the ottoman in the middle of the room, where I usually found myself during private dances.

“I don’t drink during work hours, love. Now, what should I call you?” I looked into the mismatched eyes of the Painted Man.

“You can call me Papa. I’m Papa Emeritus, the fourth. My close friends call me Copia, but I suppose we are not quite there yet, sí?” he said, leaning forward to take my chin in his hand. I nodded.

“While I would love to marvel at your undoubtedly exquisite body, There is some business we should take care of first, piccolina. Do you like Type O Negative?” Cue the record scratching. The dreamy look I normally adopt when with my clients evaporated.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. Papa laughed.

“The band, cara. I was going to have you dance for me later. However, you must have a preference."

“I really don’t understand what you mean," I whispered. Papa laughed again, a big booming laugh.

“I know your secret cara. The ghouls told me. One of my predecessors, Papa Nihil, told me if I were to ever come across your kind, I should try to win your allegiance. Your kind have interesting abilities, specifically the power of influence." Of course that’s what he’s after.

“I don’t do that," I said, looking down to avoid his gaze. Papa tsked.

“I think you will. The ghouls say you smell lonely. Where is your famiglia?” He asked. I shook my head. Lydia’s pained screams echoed in my ears, our last moment together wrenching my heart out of my chest decades later.

“We split because of artistic differences," I said softly. Dewdrop and his companions giggled behind me.

“Forcing people to allow you to exsanguinate them for sport is not ‘artistic differences,’” Dewdrop hissed. The other ghouls laughed. Papa shook his head, and raised a hand to silence them.

“Now now, Dewdrop. It is hard to control one’s basic nature. Sí, tesoro? Tell me, how long has it been since your last drink?” He looked at me with concern. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what he saw. Weak, pathetic, useless… The words were like a disgusting mantra, swirling through my mind, angry and acidic.

“Weeks… It’s been weeks," I whispered. He tsked again. I heard the ghouls chatter amongst themselves. Their pity made me feel disgusting, like a child with sweaty, clammy hands, and odorous armpits.

“What if I told you I could offer you a job and a home? A home where you wouldn’t have to hide your nature. A home where you’d never go hungry again?” I looked up at him.

“What kind of job?” I asked. The ghouls laughed again. Papa shot them a glare.

“I would make use of your gifts occasionally. Nobody would get hurt. You would warm my bed whenever I asked. Maybe pick up a trade or two once back with the Clergy. And in turn, you would get protection, and all the blood you could ever need," he said. I finally mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. What do you have to lose? Besides, you’ve done infinitely worse things.

“You swear on your life, nobody will get hurt? Not a single person?” I asked. Papa nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll also require a salary as well," I said, extending my hand. Papa nodded, taking my hand in both of his.

“Anything you need, cara. But first, I think you need a drink. And then we will get the night I paid for," he said. He waved his hand towards the door, which the shorter female ghoul scurried to open. I noticed she sported a pocket chain with an air symbol.

“Bring in one of the more rosy siblings, Cumulus. I suspect our new friend will need the sustenance before we get too far into our plans for the night," Cumulus nodded, and shut the door behind her. Papa stood up, and began removing his suit jacket and gloves; rolling up his sleeves. I could see his blue veins pulsating, causing me to become aroused in a way I cannot quite explain. Involuntarily, my pussy throbbed, and my mouth watered.

“Now now, little one. Be patient. Your drink will be here soon enough. But for now, you will seal our little deal with a kiss, so to speak. On your knees," Papa ordered, gesturing to the floor. I slipped from the ottoman to the floor, crawling on all fours to him. His breath hitched as I slid my hands up his thighs. I didn’t break eye contact as I unbuckled his trousers, nor when I reached into his pants to pull out his sizeable cock.

The door opened, and I heard mumbles, as well as a struggle, and a thud. Of course, both my hands and mouth were preoccupied. I watched Papa intently as I sucked him off. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth slack, and his hands threaded into his hair, as he let out an ungodly moan. I kitten licked his frenulum, stroking his shaft, earning another moan. He bucked his hips into my throat. Sit still, I whispered in the back of my mind. Papa grabbed my hair, and pulled me off his cock.

“Never again, my little bat. Continue," he said, grabbing either side of my face as he began to fuck my throat rigourously. Someone behind me cleared their throat. I wasn’t able to look up, due to my current predicament.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Cirrus? What is it?” Papa let out a grunt, as his cock twitched in my mouth. I began to fellate him with my hands, wrenching more breathy sighs and groans from him. Within seconds, his warm seed was flooding my throat. I heard Dewdrop cheer, and then a slap, which I assumed was a high five. Papa rolled his eyes and smiled, as I dabbed away the bit of cum that had spilled over my bottom lip.

“Just in time. I needed something to wash down all that salt," I stood, and walked over to the person Cumulus and Cirrus stood in front of. It looked like a plumper woman. She was wearing what looked like a nun’s habit, her red ringlets spilling out from under her wimple.

“All for you cara. Come find me when you have finished your meal," Papa walked out, which left me with the ghouls and my prey. Dewdrop, and the other male ghoul, who sported a water symbol, helped the little nun onto the couch.

“You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass later, right? Nearly busted watching you and Copia earlier," Dewdrop said to me, softly enough for just me to hear. I giggled and nodded, batting him away after he began nibbling on my neck. He patted my ass, and began to pull the wimple from the nun’s head.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you and the rest of the ghouls get started? I’ll be done pretty quickly." Dewdrop nodded.

“C’mon, Rainy. Come play with my cock, while we watch Mary drink," The water ghoul nodded, grabbing Dewdrop’s hand. I turned my attention back to the nun. She began to stir. I pushed back her hair.

“This is going to hurt a little bit. But I will make this quick and painless. You deserve an easy death." The nun, barely awake, nodded, and turned her head. I cradled her head, and brought her throat to my mouth. With a final kiss to her soft, peachy flesh, I sank my teeth into her throat, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste.

It felt like drinking water after being stuck in a desert for a week. Her blood was sweet, clean, and thick, and it quenched my thirst quickly. Her body began to go limp in my arms, and her skin turned cold. It’s still not enough. I had to force myself to stop. Never drink the last drop. It might just be the last thing you do, my old mentor’s voice reminded me. I let the little nun drop back to the couch, and turned to face the ghouls. Cirrus sat with Cumulus, each with a hand in the other’s pants. Rain was bobbing his head up and down slowly, as Dewdrop played with his hair. Dewdrop looked up at me.

“Hot," he said. Cirrus nodded, and refocused her attention on Cumulus. Rain moaned, causing Dewdrop to hiss. I looked at them all, lust clouding my gaze.

“Make room. It’s my turn," I said. Dewdrop pulled my mouth to his, not fazed one bit by the blood coating my lips. Cirrus began to explore the space between my thighs with her long, gorgeous fingers. Rain held my hair, kissing and nipping at my neck. A girl really could get used to this...

Hours later, after all of the ghouls had had their turn, even the two from the door, I was back in the dressing room. I opened the envelope the earth ghoul, Mountain, had handed me on the way out. My eyes grew like saucers as I counted the money inside. I had only expected eight grand; two hours, eight clients, multiplied by $500. But as I counted, I realized I had 15 grand in my hands. The door opened, breaking my wealth-induced trance. It was Papa.

“If you would really like the job, come to this address in two weeks. Bring only what you must. Put everything else in storage," he said, handing me a card. I was confused.

“Why two weeks?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Because it’s polite, cara. Don’t forget your letter of resignation."

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This is the first thing I've wrote in years! I hope you all enjoy it! A special thanks to @gasolineghuleh for all of their help!

[ashbrea381writings]

Flying Blind: Chapter 2, Meeting the Bats

“Bunnyx? Should I be concerned?” Ladybug asked, turning to look at the person behind her. Bunnyx was obviously a good five or so years older than the rest of the team, and Batman would have shrugged it off if it weren’t for the next words from Bunnyx’s mouth.

“Nah, I wanted to be at this meeting since current me wasn’t.” Bunnyx pulled up a chair and flipped it backwards to sit on it that way. “To explain, Batman, I can’t tell them too much or the timeline would become unstable, and that really isn’t good. I help where I can and where they are going astray from the correct timeline.”

“Who is to say the correct timeline?” Robin asked. “Couldn’t you nudge it into a more favorable outcome?”

“Not without disappearing. Back to the Future style.” Bunnyx commented bitterly. “Been there, almost disappeared, it sucked. But I can tell you this, LB, it’s okay to trust them with the info you’ve got so far. They’re very helpful.”

“Thanks Bunnyx. Sticking around?” Ladybug asked, handing them a plate with some pastries.

“For the best pastries in Paris for free? Yes, for sure.” Bunnyx started laughing as they took the plate and took a few steps back. “I’m probably gonna let you all strategize without me though, I just wanted to hear the convo I missed the first time ‘round.”

“Oh please, you know they would feed every one of you guys for free if you asked. Unless you’ve had a falling out in the future I don’t currently know about?” Ladybug teased, loosening up more than she had so far.

“Nah, but at the point I’m at, I’m trying not to drain them, you have no idea how much time travel makes you hungry.” Bunnyx chuckled. “Besides, with the rest of these guys stopping by constantly, I’m surprised they even manage to make any money.”

Ladybug shook her head but didn’t comment, turning back to Batman and sighing. “We also have a friend who cannot always help out in battle for civilian reasons. That is Tempest, who has the ability to transform into three different forms; lightning, air, and water.”

“And you’re all about the same age?” Batman asked, his frown deepening.

“More or less, within about a year and a half from oldest to youngest.” Chat confirmed as Ladybug nodded. “We try not to advertise our real ages for both identity reasons, and to try and control just how many people don’t want us doing this due to our ages.”

“And you have no mentor? No Adult to pull you out if things get rough?” Batman’s voice was incredulous, and he sat up even straighter in his seat.

“Unless you count Bunnyx who jumps back from the future now and then to check in.” Chat joked, poking said hero in the ribs.

“Watch it, Kitty-Cat, I can and will send my younger self something embarrassing about you.” Bunnyx slapped his hand away, but sounded bored.

“Who gave you your powers then? You said before that you got your abilities from items?” Robin asked, leaning forward and bracing his arms on the table.

“Like I said, he gave up his memories to protect more of the artifacts.” Ladybug sighed, “The items in question are individually called the Miraculous. There is a box that I have custody of that usually holds them. I won’t say how many there are. Right now I’m letting each person here use one, Chat and I were picked by the former Guardian. When Hawkmoth found out the identity of the former Guardian, he attempted to find out our identities too and wanted to steal the box for himself.” Ladybug stood and began to pace slightly in the little room there was. “During the battle, Chat and I were able to retrieve the contents, and the former Guardian transferred his title to me. The magic of the Miraculous wiped his memories to keep the secrets of the Miraculous from ever being taken from him.”

“So not only are you a superhero as a teenager, but you guard a set of ancient artifacts that each hold incredible power?!” Batman stood abruptly. “If there is some sort of title involved, who gave that title to your mentor?”

“People who are a combination of long gone or not welcome here due to antiquated ways.” Ladybug snapped harshly. “Do not presume to know what is going on with us. Age does not mean wisdom, just that you assume you know what is best for other people.”

Batman took a step back and sighed. “I am angry on your behalf that you were put under this amount of pressure.” He took a moment to calm himself and shook his head. “Am I correct to assume that Hawkmoth is of a similar age to me?”

Ladybug studied Batman for a few moments, sharing glances with a few of the other teammates who all made some sort of gesture or facial expression that they understood among themselves. “Roughly, yes, we cannot be precise but I would judge you and him to be within 3 or so years of each other.”

“What other information do you have? We might be able to help figure him out.”

“It will be difficult, the magic of the Miraculous makes it difficult to pinpoint an identity, and tends to make you want to drop the search. Although, there are some exceptions. Rena figured Carapace out after meeting him in the mask twice.” Ladybug pointed out. At that comment, Rena chuckled and elbowed a blushing Carapace.

“Not fair, LB, you know why it was that easy for her to figure me out.” Carapace muttered, pulling his hood lower over his face.

“My point is, maybe someone with an outside perspective would be able to push past it.” Ladybug shook her head at her friends. “Here, this has everything we’ve observed about Hawkmoth, and information that will help you to identify him more easily. Some of that information covers Miraculous holders in general from our own observations about ourselves. Don’t look into our identities with this, just Hawkmoth.”

“What kind of information?” Batman asked, taking the flash drive.

“How much of a height difference we have when we transform, how much things like hair and eye color change, Chat is an exception for the eyes part.” Chat gave a bow as Ladybug said his name. “It also has Hawkmoth’s approximate measurements from what I’ve been able to figure out the few times we’ve seen him in person. He’s a very tall, slender man.”

Batman handed the flash drive to Robin, who plugged it into a screen on his glove, asking quietly, “Hmmm, how accurate are these measurements and how did you get them?”

“I’m good at sizing people, there’s a civilian reason for it that I won’t name. I could probably give you yours if you wanted.” Ladybug chuckled.

“She’s nearly dead-on, actually, I’ve seen it in action.” Chat added, smirking. “Like that time she figured out who was who at a costume party.”

“That was one time and it was a bet, King Monkey should have known better than to challenge me, he’s known me for years.” Ladybug sniffed. “Besides, it was a good team-building exercise for me to identify you guys in the crowd while you switched costumes.”

“Team building exercise?” Batman seemed unconvinced.

“We’d only just decided that we all needed to know who each other were. So we went to a big costume party with several quick change outfits and tried to identify each other so we’d always know who was who even if we switched Miraculi.” Ladybug explained.

“You all know each other as civilians?” Robin asked, looking shocked.

“After what happened with the former Guardian, I was rather… Stressed and didn’t have a way to tell anyone why it was so bad, so I confided in Rena, and she basically told me that it was time we all knew each other. She’d known Carapace from the start and he found out about her shortly after, so it was something that just made sense. We coordinate better now and know what’s going on in each other’s lives and can adjust for it.” Ladybug shrugged. “We know if one of us is sick, or busy, or can’t get away from civilian life long enough to handle Akuma’s now. We’re more coordinated in our plans and can cover for each other both as heroes and civilians.”

“Do your families know you’re all doing this?” Batman asked quietly, seeming to think about the situation.

“One of us has parents that know, I won’t say who.” Ladybug crossed her arms and stared the Bat down.

“And what do they think?”

Chat chucked, “They’ve basically adopted everyone who wasn’t their kid already and told everyone to stop by anytime. They also keep an eye on the news and give excuses for the one that’s their kid to make sure they get to be at Akuma fights when they’re needed for it.”

“They also offered to patch us up if there’s ever an injury that the Cure doesn’t fix. We haven’t run into that problem yet though.” Honey Bee added, making a gesture like she would start touching up her manicure before being stopped short by her gloves. “By the way, Bug, you need to teach us how to adjust our suits manually, you said there was a way.”

“That’s an entire Saturday on it’s own, Bee, save it for the next girl’s day.” Ladybug waved her off casually.  “Now, I’m sure you guys have what you need to start the investigation with you?”

“Yes, we’ll keep you posted.” Batman held out a comm unit to Ladybug. “The batteries last three days, if it takes longer than that I can meet you here to switch out. It’s also undetectable while you’re wearing it and muting it and turning it on and off is intuitive.”

“MmmmHmmm, I’m willing to bet it’s also a tracker. Pegasus, take a look?” She passed the device to said hero and he plugged it into a small tablet he pulled out of a pocket.

“There is the ability for it to track movements, but that was disabled before I even touched it.” Pegasus handed it and Ladybug tucked it into her ear, testing the settings a bit before leaving it muted but on.

“I know how important secret identities are, the tracker is only in there because it’s the same type as what Robin uses and I’d rather not have him injured somewhere and not be able to get ahold of him.”

“I still don’t like the tracker either, B.” Robin muttered, causing the Miraculous holders to chuckle.

“We can track each other when we’re suited up.” Ladybug swept a hand around the group. “It’s useful to know when each other is on the way or where someone is when you need to meet up.”

“Anyway, we all have places to be, so we’ll check in once and a while through LB to see how it’s going.” Chat said, cleaning off the table and tucking the dishes back into the baskets they came from. “Bee, here’s yours, I think you’ll be missed sooner.” He passed one off the Honeybee who promptly zipped away on her top, waving as she passed over the building. “LB, delicious as always, I need to convince them to teach me their ways.” He sighed, handing Ladybug a basket.

“Don’t be shy, if you ask I’m sure they’d show you. They don’t have anyone willing to take over when they retire, and it might be good for you to have a job like a normal person.” She laughed, taking the larger basket and setting it on the ground before wiping down the table with a cloth she’d pulled out.

“Don’t think I won’t… Next time I’m home alone for the weekend, I’m there.” He laughed and collapsed the table after she wiped it. One by one, the other Miraculous holders put away the chairs and helped Chat wrangle the table into it’s storage shed.

“How often do you guys do this?” Robin asked, watching as the other heroes took off in separate directions.

“As often as we have the time and can get away from our civilian lives. Since we all know each other, it isn’t as hard as it was.” Ladybug shrugged, ruffling Chat’s hair.

“We keep it to a reasonable amount of time and not everyone is always able to make it, but it’s always a nice way to get in some bonding time with the team.” Chat added, pushing Ladybug’s hand off of him. “We’re basically family to each other at this point, so we don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t spend time together. I gotta run, it’s almost time for my next thing.” He sighed and launched himself up with his stick, waving at them and running across the rooftops.

“We’ll be in contact, and I’ll be listening on the comm.” Ladybug pointed to her ear where the device was invisible to any who didn’t know it was there.

With that, the rest of the remaining heroes left, leaving Batman and Robin in a closed-off alley with a beautiful garden and a small shed. “Want me to check what else is in the shed?” Robin asked after making sure his comm was muted.

“No, there was nowhere to hide anything, it’s only big enough for the stuff that’s in there and they left it open the whole time we were talking.” Batman sighed and looked at the sky that was going pink with dusk. “Let’s get to the hotel.”

[nightshade-minho]

-Embers- (2)

warnings: heavy-ish suggestiveness, future smut, themes of heartbreak and pain, mentioned parent death, jealousy, angry fathers.

wc: 5.7k

Heartbreak.

It's something you've thought about, in theory. You've wondered how it feels to be heartbroken, especially when you were younger, when almost everything was of interest to your curious brain. Could a heart break? What exactly did that mean? 

Mr Yang's novels were your first introduction to characters who'd gone through that pain. His books had described it as a perpetual feeling of hurt, one which a person would never get over. You wondered if it was even possible to experience pain like that. Pain so bad you felt your heart shattering.

You still remembered that day you thought about it properly for the first time.

***

You shut your book and looked over at Minho, who had been cloudgazing as he waited for you to finish it. Days like this were common. Minho would get you a new book every week, and the two of you would go to the lake and laze around in the sun. You often worried that Minho would find it boring to sit next to you while you read, having nothing to do. On the contrary, he was quite content with the way things were. He liked how warm the grass felt against his skin, and how calming the sounds of rippling water were as he rested his head against Aeracus’s side.

"Wow. That definitely didn't end on a good note." You shook your head, letting out a sigh and laying back.

Minho glanced up at you, sitting up slightly. "You finished it? So soon?"

"Mhm. I got a little too invested in the story."

"Ah. If I'd known you would read it this fast, I would have borrowed more than one from him."

"It's okay, I can wait a few days.' You say, your tone reassuring as you placed Mr Yang's precious book next to you on the grass, carefully. The man put great care into binding and writing his books, all by hand with no one to assist him. You didn’t want to be the one to soil his hard work.

"Good, cause I'm not going back there so soon. There's three girls who have basically set up camp outside Mr Yang's to catch a glimpse of me."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. "You act like you're a celebrity or something. We get it, you have a lot of fangirls."

"And fanboys. Some of them are quite cute actually. Just last week a dude proposed to me."

"No way. He proposed?"

"Yeah." He let out a low chuckle. "I think I recognized him from the docks. Seen him once or twice, but I've never said a word to him. I felt bad though, he was actually pretty."

"You should have said yes." You pouted, holding back a giggle. "I've always wanted to be maid of honor at a wedding."

Minho shook his head, sitting up and scooting over. Grabbing your waist, he pulled you into him, so that the both of you were curled up against his sleeping dragon.

"Maid of honor?"

"Yeah! I mean, what's the point of having a best friend if you don't get to play that crucial role in their wedding?"

Minho sighed, looking over at you with a fond smile as he bit his cheek. "Oh Y/n, what am I going to do with you? Maid of honor." He chuckled again at the exaggerated pout you flashed him, poking his side. “What’s so funny?”

There was silence for a few minutes as he looked up at the sky, eyes running over a cloud that looked a little like a five-pointed star. Humming, he leaned in a little.

A short inhale before he whispered into your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it and making your hairs stand on end.

"I hate to break it to you Y/n, but you'll never be maid of honor at my wedding." He mumbled softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Cause you'll be the bride."

For a minute, a stunned look passed over your face as you comprehended his words. It took a whole 60 seconds for you to process, but soon you swatted at his hand, descending into a fit of hopeless giggles at his cheesy line. "Shut up!"

"Hey! I was being serious." he had an offended look on his face as he held your chin, making you face him again.

You looked at his expression and stopped, your cheeks flushing as you realized he meant it. Your heart was racing, your eyes blinking rapidly as your mushy mess of a brain tried to figure out what an appropriate, mature response would be.

Quickly you pushed him off you, stumbling to your feet and beginning to run. So much for being mature.

"Race you home!"

Minho watched you run, shaking his head and sighing to himself as he slowly picked himself up. If only you knew how sincere he was.

If only he knew your heart hadn't stopped pounding for the rest of the night.

Mr Yang's books had been the main contribution to your adolescent fantasies, to be honest. As the local librarian, he supplied you with a regular supply of books, but none were as satisfying as the ones he wrote himself. His writing was descriptive on another level, and pulled you in like no other author could. He was your greatest inspiration, which was why his description of heartbreak had been the one to stick with you the most, all the way to adulthood.

It was described as a lingering emotion in the back of your head, staying with you your whole life to remind you of what could have been. It was nauseating, painful and everlasting. He'd written about the emotion so intensively, that at the time you almost felt like you did truly know how it felt.

You were wrong.

Heartbreak, real heartbreak, was a lot less pain and a lot more emptiness. Yes, it did feel like all those things mentioned before- but there was more to it than that. Your heart, which had been brimming with excitement and happiness not too long ago, felt void. Dark, lifeless. It had been so sudden, so out of the blue that your emotions were a confused jumble.

Of course, there was pain too- agony, more like. Ripping through your entire being as you watched him kiss her cheek yet again. It was so all consuming, so terrifyingly excruciating.

You were across the dinner table by your father's side, the spoon in your hand held in a tight grip as you tried your best to avert your eyes from the sight. After all, you were currently sat at the table with three other chiefs and their families, as well as a few advisors and high ranking guards. You had to look refined and elegant, a person befitting the title of Ember’s heir- not a gawking, bitter girl staring at your once lover canoodling with his fiancée.

Finally managing to tear your eyes away, you let your eyes run over the guests that would be staying with you for the next few weeks. You reminded yourself that you were in no position to be a dejected, woeful and pathetic individual in front of all these important people. Appearances had to be kept up, or you would face dire consequences. Your father’s pride was hurt enough as it is, what with his daughter being the only one who couldn’t participate in the championships. You didn’t want to give him any more reasons to hate you.

Next to your father was the Aqua chief, his wife and their daughter- Minho’s fiancée. They were dressed in blue silks, dripping with sapphires and lapides lazuli. The royal blue draped around them was deep, the fabric clearly expensive and not too unlike the dress you were wearing currently. 

The Aqua heiress was the spitting image of her mother, both their faces round and their features pretty. She was dressed similarly to her parents, with a tiny diadem upon her brown locks, her gown objectively fancier than yours. She continued talking to Minho, the plate of food in front of her untouched.

Minho.

You hated how beautiful he looked, dressed in white and grey. His uniform was simple, all clean lines and crisp edges. It suited him perfectly, like it was made for him. Which it probably was. 

The two of them seemed to be in their own little world as Minho whispered something into her ear, making her giggle yet again. Your throat felt clogged. Blinking, you quickly looked away from them, your eyes landing on Minho’s father. He looked the same as he always did, except now slightly frailer. He was wearing the same uniform as his son, although he didn’t quite fill it out the same way. You chewed on your lip, glancing at him one last time before turning to the Terra family. 

The Terra chief was a rotund, pot-bellied man who had his attention completely focused on his plate, not contributing much to the conversation the three other chiefs were having. You couldn’t blame him, really- the maids had cooked up a delightful feast. You were sure you’d have devoured your entire plate by now if circumstances had been different. The empty feeling in your stomach was making it hard to savour the roast beef, which you reluctantly ate. 

He and his wife were both dressed in earthly, neutral tones combined with deep greens- and positively covered in every kind of jewel found under the Earth. The rubies on your dress looked like chili flakes in comparison to the twinkling emeralds and gems on the Terra family.

Their son, the Terra heir, looked just as miffed as you, to be honest. He wasn’t as bejewelled as his parents, wearing a shade of green that provided you comfort as you looked at him. It reminded you of the grass near the lake you and Minho once frequented.

He caught your gaze suddenly. Smiling, his heart-shaped lips curving upwards. He shot a glance towards Minho and his girl, and then back at you, raising an eyebrow.

You tried your best to smile back, or give him a knowing wink, or something. But all you could do was stare blankly, your emotions having been sucked out of you. You still failed to comprehend what had happened, your brain seemingly giving up on you and leaving you alone with nothing but your broken heart for company.

Soon enough, the smile melted away from the man's face, and he looked back down at his plate, a little dejected. You felt a flash of regret, fleeting however as you suddenly felt a sharp voice whispering in your ear.

You looked up in confusion at your father, who had previously been immersed in a conversation with Minho’s father and the Aqua chief. Now his face was right by your ear.

"Number one, stop staring. You’re lucky I’m the only one who noticed. Number two, stop by my office before you go to sleep tonight, okay? It’s important." He said, voice stern.

Gulping and nodding, you watched as he turned away, diving right back into the conversation he was having. What did he possibly want to talk about? You rarely talked to your father these days, unless arguments could be counted.

You spent the rest of the meal in contemplation, staring down at your plate. Your hand moved methodically, shoving food into your mouth without actually tasting anything; All you could taste was regret.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Despite not looking up, her giggle still pierced your ears from time to time, stabbing you deep in the heart. You'd seen it...the way Minho had been looking at her. He'd once reserved such looks for you and you only. Turns out, every meaningful word he'd said back then were lies. Every promise of forever had been empty.

A small part of you reminded yourself that it wasn't his fault he was kicked out from your village. He’d thought you didn’t oppose your father, and simply watched as he and his father was humiliated. Were you being irrational in expecting him to have stayed single until he came back to you? Hell, was it stupid to think he could even bear to glance at you after what your father had did?

Life was unpredictable, nothing was written in stone. How could he even have known he'd ever be in the same room as you again?

No. Y/n, don't do this. Don't force yourself to make up excuses for him. The man had barely cast a glance at you since he arrived. His eyes had been cold and stony the only time you'd made eye contact. 

Besides, if he really knew you, he would have known you wouldn’t betray him like that. And if he really loved you, he would have waited. He wouldn’t have moved on so easily. 

It was still fresh in your mind, despite having happened a few hours ago, now. The way you’d felt your hopes and dreams shattering to the ground in a million pieces, all in a span of a few seconds. Your heart, vibrating so fast it was almost going to implode.

As you continued drowning in your emotions, reliving the pain you'd felt, you suddenly felt a pair of eyes burning into you, sharply. Confused, you looked up, expecting the Terra heir to be the one looking back at you.

It wasn't him.

Minho quickly looked away before you could react, going back to talking to the heiress. It had only been for a second, but you’d caught him.

He’d been staring. At you. For a second, the tiniest flash of hope lit up your heart. But it was gone quickly, as the Aqua chief started laughing boisterously at a question the Terra chief's wife had asked.

"Yes, Jisu and Minho are deeply in love, Calandra. Honestly. Why would they be getting married otherwise?" He smiled, looking over at the two who had stopped talking to listen.

"This one-" He ruffled his daughter's head, chuckling. "She was so smitten. Kept sneaking out past the border to meet him. Of course when I found out, I was more than happy to let them join hands. I couldn’t imagine a son better than Minho to marry my little girl."

"That's sweet." You glanced up at your father as he said the words. He seemed to be gritting his teeth in slight vexation, the annoyance on his face clear. At least, to you it was.

"The wedding will take place a month after the championships." Minho's father said suddenly, smiling proudly as he grabbed a glass of wine. "You're all invited, of course. It will take place at my village. Now, raise a glass for the happy couple!"

A few claps sounded as everyone at the table raised their glasses. You carefully avoided Jisu's shy smile and Minho's confident smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder firmly. As if she would break into a million pieces if he let go.

You hated that you knew exactly how he behaved when he was in love. And now you weren’t on the receiving end of his adoration. 

You weren’t used to this. 

Yes, you’d lived your life as normally as you could without him for the past few years...but this was different. He was right there, and yet he wasn’t yours. So close, but you couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t feel him. Couldn’t kiss his lips and tell him how much he meant to you.

Your eyes darted about as they tried to find an appropriate thing to focus your gaze on. You raised your glass like everyone else, downed the amber liquid a little faster than the rest. You refused to let yourself look at the two.

Your eyes landed on the Terra heir after a few seconds. You weren't completely sure what his name was, but you have a vague recollection of your father telling you everyone’s names. Of course, at the time you’d been too overcome with excitement to digest the information.

Felix? Yes, that was it.

He seemed sweet. Friendly, even. His smile was a little sympathetic as he looked back at you, and that threw you off. You decided to put a smile on your face immediately, trying to conceal the pain that you’d hoped wasn’t evident.

Your mind flitted back and forth as everyone’s plates gradually cleared up. What were you going to do after this? 

Originally, you'd been planning to go to Minho's room tonight. Fuck, you’d dreamed of how tonight would go for months now, ever since your father had told you the news. But how could you now? 

Everything was fucking disintegrating.

***

You walked down the hallway to your father's office, your heels clicking against the stone slabs. Your dress was starting to feel itchy, and you couldn’t wait to take it off. You resentfully recalled how excited you’d felt when your maids had helped you into it. How all you could think about was Minho seeing you in it. You’d never expected him to barely acknowledge you.

Sighing, you passed through the hallway, stopping when you heard a high-pitched giggle come out of nowhere.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glanced around you in confusion. 

Another laugh, this one deeper, followed by what seemed like a...moan?

The pain came back full force, hurtling through you and overtaking you completely. As you walked, the sounds started to feel closer. You wished you could cover your ears to block them out, but at the same time you were consumed with curiosity. Was it what you think it was?

Suddenly, you heard another sound. Now, it was clear where they were coming from.

The sounds were from beyond the door that led to your father's old bedroom, the one he used to share with your mother before she died. You frowned, puzzled as you walked closer to the door.

Had he really given away that room to Minho and his fiancée? It hadn't been used in years, and had always been covered up and inaccessible. Even the maids weren’t allowed to clean in there. It was the biggest bedroom in the house, and the thought of it occupied by them was causing fresh tears to prick at your eyes. 

You felt the lump in your throat make itself more prominent, blinking rapidly as your heart pounded. Suddenly, your legs started moving of their own accord.

Before you knew it, you were stood in front of the large door, your hand raised and knocking firmly on the gilded wood as you swallowed.

There was complete silence for a second or two, but then there were scrambling noises, along with the sound of rustling bedsheets. You tried to calm the beating of your heart, as you waited for the door to open.

When it finally did, you felt like your heart was almost about to burst out of your chest.

She was the one who opened it. She was clearly half naked, having pulled on a blue robe hastily. Running a hand through her hair, she greeted you, her voice a little shaky.

"Oh- um, hello…” She pressed her lips together, glancing behind her for a second. You followed her gaze, to Minho on the bed.

He was shirtless, his hair messed up and his eyes carefully trained on the wall beside him, away from you. You swallowed again, tears threatening to spill past your eyes as you quickly tried to turn your attention back to the woman in front of you.

Too late. She'd noticed. She frowned at you, subtly moving to the side a little to cover Minho from your view.

"I know we haven't formally met yet. I'm Choi Jisu, the Aqua heiress. I’m sure you know." She smiled, albeit a little forced. "And I did want to thank you for letting us stay-"

There was an impatient grunt from behind her, and she looked behind back briefly before turning to you once more.

"Um, I don’t know if you noticed, but I was kind of in the middle of something. Sorry." She tried her best to hide her smile, her voice heavily insincere. “Let’s talk later, Y/n. And maybe next time you won’t be interrupting anything.” She smiled, beginning to close the door.

"Later." 

You just stood there dumbfounded, not knowing how to reply. Your face was passive but your brain was overrun with thoughts. The tears would spill any minute now. 

She frowned at your reaction, tilting her head before gently shutting the door in your face.

You just stood there for a moment. You could hear Minho's voice, muffled as he said something to her.

A part of you wanted to press your ear to the door and listen, but you already looked pathetic enough to the guards standing in the hallway, one of them already having flashed you a sympathetic look. You were really having enough of all this fucking sympathy.

Sighing, you dragged your feet away, trying to push everything down, but to no avail. There were too many enotions, and they were too heavy to even let you think. 

You thought back to her behaviour. You'd definitely picked up on her attitude, which had soured after she’d caught you looking at her fiancé. Jisu wasn’t a fan of you, that much was clear. And neither was the person who’d once declared himself your biggest fan. Ironic, really.

***

“Who was at the door?” Minho asked carefully, although he’d already seen you. Standing there, looking at him. 

You’d looked smaller, vulnerable. So, so different. Almost alarmingly so.

He tried to best to keep his tone even, eyes trained on Jisu as she slunk back to the bed, having shut the door.

“The Ember heiress.” She said, a slight sting to her tone. “Why do you think she came?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I...don’t know.” Minho muttered, staring at the bedsheets. His heart was clenching, hands starting to shake a little. 

No. Not in front of Jisu.

“Weren’t you two ‘best friends’ once?” She asked carefully, having picked up on his icy behavior. Jisu knew, of course. Despite Minho and you trying to keep it a secret, at one point the entire village came to know the two of you were in love. The information had even spread across the village, to others. 

Of course, the chiefs were the only ones who’d been clueless, only finding out after they’d been separated.

Minho scoffed, shaking his head. He gestured to her, hooking his fingers under his boxers to pull them down. “Forget that. Come back here, baby.”

Jisu raised an eyebrow, looking like she wanted to say more. However, Minho’s almost naked body was difficult to resist.

Shrugging, she slid her robe off, letting the silk fall to the floor as she straddled him. His hands ran up her hips, watching her, feeling her. 

His brain, however, felt like it was a million miles away.

***

The tears ran down your face. You were no longer able to hold them back. Realizing you were probably about to break down in the middle of the hallway, you walked faster towards the office- 

Until you bumped into someone on the way, almost knocking them over.

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Felix chuckled, holding onto your arms to keep you on your feet.

You looked up at him, blinking as you registered what you’d just done. “Fuck- I’m so sorry-”

“No, it’s okay.” He smiled, realizing his hands were still on you. He quickly took them away, tucking them into his pockets. His cheeks were dusted a light pink as he cleared his throat, looking at you in concern.

You quickly wiped away your tears, but Felix had unfortunately already noticed.

“Hey, are you okay? I noticed... I noticed you didn’t seem so happy at the dinner.” He said softly, looking down at you. 

You remained silent, staring at the floor as you wondered how to reply. You didn’t want to seem any more pitiable than you already were.

“Uh, it’s okay if you don’t want to say anything. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” He shook his head, stepping back slightly. His voice was almost more nervous than yours. “Um, I’ll leave you be now. Sorry-”

You looked up, sighing. “Wait…” 

Felix looked back, an expectant, almost hopeful look on his face. You didn’t want to let him down, you really didn’t...but it was difficult to pretend like you were okay. You were shivering, biting on your lip. You already felt humiliated enough.

“Sorry. I...I need to go, I’m sorry.” You mumbled, quickly walking away from a bewildered Felix. As soon as you turned the corner, you breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall as your body shuddered. 

You’d never cried like this, not even when Caeli had died. Not even when Minho had left, because back then you’d still possessed some kind of hope. Hope that just wasn’t there anymore.

Rubbing your cheeks, you managed to get rid of the tear stains. You hoped your eyes weren’t too red- you weren’t ready for any comments from your father today. Breathing in, you continued walking, still massaging your eyes in a desperate bid to get them dry.

You groaned as you noticed you’d reached your father’s office quicker than you thought you would. Inhaling deeply, you tried to pull yourself together. You really didn’t like showing weakness in front of him, but lately that was all you did.

You knocked on the door carefully, waiting for him to open the door.

“Door’s open, come in.”

You pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping in.

"Y/n. Finally. Where have you been?"

"Nowhere important." You said quickly, clearing your throat. "Um... you said you wanted to see me, dad?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes." He rearranged the files on his desk quickly, standing and coming over to lean on the front of his desk. He sighed, screwing his face up in thought as he wondered where to start.

"I can’t believe Lee really scored a marriage for his son. Do you know what this means? A heir marrying an heiress? They'll possess power we can’t even begin to imagine." He paced back and forth, clenching his fists in barely concealed anger. You rolled your eyes slightly. Of course your father thought it was a ploy to gain power. He’d never believed in love, and most probably never will.

“So?” 

"So? So?!” He shook his head. “See, this is exactly why the villagers think you’re too incompetent.” He glared, making you cower. Your heart pounded quicker, your lips pressing together. No more tears, you had to control them.

“Look, Y/n...I’ll put it plain and simple. Ember has been the most powerful for centuries. We’ve always had the strongest dragons, and the sturdiest men. Our village is the largest in the country, and all eyes are on us.”

He pinched his forehead. “Do you know how embarrassing it is that Ember’s heiress, the one who should be the most powerful of all, is nothing but a lovesick, pathetic little girl who doesn’t even have a fucking dragon to compete with?!”

You blinked, sniffing as you stared at the floor. You could always count on your father to reinforce negative emotions. His eyes burning into you, chest heaving in anger. 

He sighed, watching as your shoulders shook slightly. Softening a little, he inhaled. It always went that way. He’d blow up at you, and subsequently regret it. He couldn’t take back anything he said, though.

“Sorry, child.” You remained silent, looking up a little. His face seemed sincere enough.

“Hm. I have an idea..." He mumbled, placing a finger on his chin. You could almost see the cogs and gears turning in his brain.

"What did you think of Felix? Nice boy, isn't he?"

You frowned at your father's words, his expression seeming innocent...but his intentions clearly weren't.

"The Terra heir?" You asked, sighing. "He seems nice. Why are you asking?"

"No reason." He shrugged, fiddling with the Ember figurine on his desk.

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Dad...don't tell me you want to marry me off to him."

"What?? No!" Your father shook his head vehemently, still playing with the figurine and avoiding your eyes. "I was just thinking. Uh-"

He looked back at you and sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. But...just consider it, okay? An arranged marriage...an alliance between Ember and Terra could be phenomenal."

You pursed your lips, flashes of Minho and Jisu running through your head as you thought it over. Fuck it, why not? It wasn’t like you had any reason to oppose him. "Fine, dad. I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything. Besides, I don’t even know if he’s interested in me."

"I saw the way he was looking at you from across the table, child. He definitely has some curiosity, at the very least.” He hummed. “Anyway, that's actually not why I called you here."

You raised an eyebrow, confused as he went back to his seat, sitting down and pulling up a large, dusty book.

"Look...I'm worried. There's something ominous about this. Their marriage...it poses too many conveniences and benefits for both the chiefs to be a mere coincidence.”

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked to be deep in thought. When he heard you speak, he snapped back to attention, shaking his head. "I’m not sure yet. Now, even if I managed to convince Farran to get his child married to you, it still doesn’t provide us power directly. Without a dragon, it’s likely they’ll make you reside in the Terra village once this is all over.” He hummed, looking like he was talking to himself rather than addressing you. “No...we need a reason to make you stay here. You’re an Ember heiress, the future chief of this legendary village. However, you definitely need to look the part. You need to prove to everyone that you’re powerful, Y/n. Shatter their expectations...and mine.” He smiled, gesturing for you to come closer.

 “I was wondering...do you want to participate in the championships?"

Your eyes widened impossibly, your words stuttering as you moved forward. You couldn’t believe your ears, not one bit. It sounded too good to be true.

“Wait- really?”

“Yes.”

“But...but I don’t have a drag-”

“You can participate with Aeracus.”

No. No way. For the first time since the welcoming, you felt true happiness overtake you. Jumping, you squealed in delight, barely able to hide your glee. “Oh my god, thank you, dad! Thank you so so much.”

He chuckled as he watched you, flipping a page. “This has never been done before, so expect some backlash. I’m sure once they see the bond you have with Aeracus though, they’ll change their minds.”

You couldn’t believe it. Your father, the most skeptical dragon purist the world had ever seen, was acknowledging your bond.

“But...what about Minho?”

“Aeracus is no longer his dragon, Y/n. He has a new one.” Of course, you’d noticed. The huge black dragons he and his father had been riding. You felt a sensation of unease drift through you as you thought about the creatures, the likes of which you’d never seen before. 

New lover, new dragon. He’d really left this place behind.

“Something’s off about those dragons.” He voiced the exact same concern you had. “They’re up to something. I just don’t know what.” He turned back to his book, taking his quill back up. “I’ll find out, though. Somehow. Now, go to sleep, kid. You have a big day tomorrow, now that you’re actually participating.”

You nodded, excitement coursing through your veins. “Sure, dad. Have a good night.” You bowed and turned around, your steps a lot lighter as you headed to your room, which was close by.

Reaching your room, you pushed open the door, smiling as you noticed Sylvia fast asleep at your dressing table. Moving slightly closer, you gently nudged her awake.

“Wha- I-” She shot up, mouth open as she bowed to you. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I was just arranging and-I’ll help you out of your dress, now-”

“Sh, it’s okay. Tonight’s been tiring. You deserve the rest.” You said sadly, patting her shoulder as a yawn left your mouth. “Go to sleep, and don’t come by tomorrow. I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself. I want you to relax, okay? Head to the docks, or buy yourself some bread in the square.” You opened a tiny drawer and handed a few coins to her, enough to get some sweetbread from the bakery.

She nodded thankfully. “You’re the best, ma’am.” She giggled, accepting the coins from you. 

“What have I told you about calling me ma’am? We’re the same age, Sylvia, it makes me uncomfortable. It’s Y/n to you.”

“Fine. Y/n.” She smiles, heading to the door. “Good night, Y/n.”

You grinned widely at that. You loved how easygoing she was, unlike Ann, your head maid. You weren’t royalty, and hated being treated as such. A friend was all you needed, to be honest. And Sylvia managed to fill the best friend sized hole Minho had left behind, somewhat. 

She closed the door behind her, and you sighed, flopping down onto your soft bed and beginning to slip off your heels and the heavy dress, carefully placing it on a rack. The moon shone extra bright today, and you noticed the streets outside were still lit up with lanterns. Soon, they’d be turned off, and the streets would be quiet once more, except for a few drunken stragglers that didn’t want to stop celebrating.

And you would be left alone with your thoughts.

You slid yourself underneath your covers, sighing as you stared at the moon. In the distance, you could see a few dragons and their riders, flying through the air. They were quite far away, possibly near the outskirts. 

Tomorrow, you’d be able to ride Aeracus like that, after so many years. Every time Minho had let you climb atop his dragon, it had just felt like it was meant to be. Deep down, you felt bad, though...for Caeli, for Minho. However, it was just the plain truth.

You smiled as you decided to buy Aeracus a bunch of treats tomorrow. Ostrich eggs, phoenix meat- you were planning to go all out. He deserved it, after all.

In a way, tonight had possibly been the worst night of your life, and simultaneously the best. Your heart felt pulled in two, as you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep.

You had a big day tomorrow.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #188

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building the greatest robot ever built in Sengoku period Japan, Katou “Black Kite” Danzo! This amazing automaton is a Thief Rogue to speed up her limbs and get some ninja mobility, as well as an Alchemist Artificer so she can really fly, make objects disappear and reappear, and even make those awful rice balls.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Welcome to the CHK!

Race and Background

Danzo’s a Karakuri Puppet, but D&D races don’t get that specific, so we’ll just have to call her a Warforged instead. This gives her +2 Constitution and +1 in any other ability, and we want Dexterity. Her Constructed Resilience gives advantage on saves against being poisoned, and she gets resistance to poison damage. She also doesn’t need to eat, drink, breathe, or sleep, and she can’t get sick. As a bonus, this means she doesn’t need to take any of the Fuuma clan’s medicine, thank god.

She still has to take long rests though, but a Sentry’s Rest reduces the time to six hours. You’re still conscious, but you can’t move if you want the rest.

Thanks to your wooden body, you can use Integrated Protection to fuse yourself into your armor, granting you a +1 bonus to AC, and preventing it from being removed against your will. Your Specialized Design also gives you proficiency with Medicine and Woodcarver’s Tools.

Like Paraiso, you’re also a magic assassin, so Volstrucker Agent is pretty accurate. This background gives you proficiency with Deception and Stealth.

Ability Scores

As usual, we’re using the standard array for maximum replicability. From high to low:

Still a ninja, still starting with a really high Dexterity. Unlike Kotarou, your ninja tricks come from your Intelligence. Also, you’re a robot; you’ve got to be pretty smart to know how you work, and you have a big chunk of the Fuuma clan’s history stuck in your head. Third is Constitution- you’ll happily sit in a cave for several centuries and not die, which is pretty impressive. Your Wisdom is above average, because I can’t think of anything specific you do that uses wisdom, but it’s still probably better than a regular person’s. Your Strength is probably lower than it should be, but it’s not like we really need it that much. That means we’re dumping Charisma. You don’t really “get” people that well.

Class Levels

Artificer 1: Starting off as an artificer is pretty neat, giving you proficiency with Constitution and Intelligence saves, as well as two artificer skills- Arcana is the closest thing we have to science in D&D, and Sleight of Hand will probably help with the bull swallowing we’ve got to do later. You also get Magical Tinkering when you start out, letting you tack minor magical effects onto tiny objects. A pebble that constantly sounds like someone walking around is a useful distraction. Despite artificers being a half casting class, they also get Spells this level, which you can cast and prepare using your Intelligence. For cantrips, I suggest picking up Mending to patch yourself up, as well as Create Bonfire for a quick and easy firestarter. Literally setting places on fire is also a great distraction, if a bit more obvious. For first level spells, I suggest picking up the classic suite of “barely spells” spells, like Grease, Alarm, and Snare. You should also grab Cure Wounds for some quick and dirty rice balls, as well as Jump and Feather Fall for Katou Danzo’s wind manipulation. There aren’t many offensive options for wind in D&D, but I can promise you’ll be very mobile by the end of this build.

Artificer 2: The big reason we started as an artificer is to grab Infused Items as quickly as possible. Starting at this level you can hold onto four blueprints for magic items, and can make up to two of them at a time, switching them out between long rests. Now you can make a Bag of Holding for some real bull swallowing (not literally though, those suckers are several times your weight limit), a Rope of Climbing for a grappling hook that attaches itself, a Returning Weapon so you’re not stuck picking up your kunai after every fight, or you can apply Enhanced Defense on some armor for even more AC.

Rogue 1: Now that your initial ninja tricks are set up, we still have to, y’know, get good at ninjaing. (Ninjing? Whatever.) Bouncing over to rogue gives you Investigation proficiency for expert analysis plus Thieves’ Tools for dismantling traps, as well as Expertise in Acrobatics and Stealth for double proficiency bonuses on all your ninja techniques. You also get a Sneak Attack once per turn, dealing an extra 1d6 damage to your target while using a finesse weapon and if you either have advantage on the attack, or have an ally within 5 feet of them. Also also, you get Thieves’ Cant. It’s a language.

Rogue 2: Second level rogues get a speed boost thanks to Cunning Action. Now you can use your bonus action to Dash, Disengage, or Hide. All very ninja-y, I assure you.

Rogue 3: Going into the Thief subclass lets you overclock yourself even further thanks to your Fast Hands. Now your cunning action lets you make sleight of hands checks, use thieves’ tools, or use objects as a bonus action. Plus, your sneak attack is 2d6 now! You’re also accustomed to Second-Story Work, so you climb as quickly as you walk, and your running jumps get boosted by your dexterity modifier. Combining this with Jump starts your ascent into a proper Black Kite- with a running start you can jump almost 40′ across, or almost 20′ straight up. You can also jump over most humanoids, clearing seven and a half feet on long jumps.

Rogue 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Intelligence for stronger artificer spells and medicines.

Artificer 3: Now that we’ve got a base level of ninjositude down, we can bounce back to artificer for more clever tricks. Right off the bat, you can always create The Right Tool for the Job over the course of a short rest, though you can only make one kind of tool at a time. (If you make new tools, the old ones get jealous and leave, I guess.) You also get goodies exclusive to the Alchemist subclass though, like proficiency with Alchemist’s Tools, Healing Word and Ray of Sickness as prepared spells, and the ability to craft Experimental Elixirs. When you finish a long rest, you can make one such elixir, with a random effect you find out when you create it. There’s a lot, so I’m not going to list them all here. The elixir only lasts until your next long rest, so you can’t stock up. That being said, you can create more elixirs at a time as you level up.

Artificer 4: Use this ASI for more Dexterity, for more accurate and deadly kunai strikes.

Artificer 5: Fifth level alchemists become Alchemical Savants, adding their intelligence modifier to spells that heal or deal acid, fire, necrotic, or poison damage. Playing to character means you won’t be using this much aside from the healing, but you also get second level spells! You get Flaming Sphere and Melf’s Acid Arrow for free, but we’re here more for the other spells you can prepare, like grabbing Levitate for some discount flight (hey, if you use your rope of climbing to grapple onto things you can probably get some good speed going...), Invisibility for better bull swallowing that can actually swallow a bull, Enhance Ability to just try a little harder, and Blur for some swirly wind nonsense that makes you harder to fight. If King Arthur can do it, so can you.

Artificer 6: Sixth level artificers get Tool Expertise, doubling your proficiency with any tool check you’re already proficient in. You can also cast Message at this point because you’ve worked in Chaldea too long for them to not give you a freaking walkie talkie, and you learn two more item infusions, and you can build one more at a time. Boots of Elvenkind will silence your footsteps, and Boots of the Winding Path can help you ninja vanish back along the steps you took this turn. There’s an obvious problem that you can’t wear both sets at once, but you’re probably not even making both at once, so...

Artificer 7: Seventh level artificers get Flashes of Genius, letting you add your intelligence modifier to an ability check or saving throw happening within 30 feet of you. You can use this Intelligence Modifier times per long rest. If scifi has taught me anything, all robots are calculating the seven billion ways an event could go at any one time, so finding the three that lead to success shouldn’t be that hard.

Rogue 5: Bouncing back to rogue for a bit brings your sneak attack up to 3d6, and also unlocks your Uncanny Dodge, spending your reaction to halve the damage of an attack coming your way.

Rogue 6: Sixth level rogues get another round of Expertise, so double down on Investigation and Arcana for extra robosmarts.

Rogue 7: Your sneak attack gets as good as it ever will at 4d6, and you learn Evasion, supercharging your dexterity saves. Successes completely negate damage, and failures only deal half damage. Just... don’t stand in the fireball. Why do so few people get that?

Artificer 8: We’re back in artificer to stay now, so bump up that Intelligence for stronger spells as well as more and stronger flashes of genius.

Artificer 9: Ninth level alchemists stick Restorative Reagents in their medicines, adding 2d6+ your intelligence modifier temporary hit points to your experimental elixirs, regardless of their other effects. You also learn how to cast Lesser Restoration Intelligence Modifier times per long rest without using spell slots. The Fuuma clan’s medicines are effective, if nothing else. You also learn how to cast third level spells, like Mass Healing Word and Gaseous Form. I mean, I guess the latter spell is flying, but it’s not Fly flying, you get me? You can also use Tiny Servant to create puppets of your own, Water Walk to walk on water like the ninja you are, as well as Haste and Blink to supercharge your mobility.

Artificer 10: Tenth level artificers are Magic Item Adepts, letting you attune to one more magic item at once, and you can craft common or uncommon magic items faster and cheaper. You also get two more blueprints for infused items, and one more you can make at a given time. Boots of Striding and Springing will make your jumps even more ridiculous, and the Ring of Jumping will clear up some prep space and save you a spell slot or two. Using both of those items at the same time basically let you fly without the spell, letting you jump 120 feet forward or 63 feet straight up, and your long jumps can pass over obstacles that are 22 feet tall. You can leap small buildings in a single bound.

Artificer 11: At eleventh level, artificers can create Spell-Storing Items, stuffing magic into weapons or spell focuses. You can stick a 1st or 2nd level spell in the object, and creatures can cast the spell from that object using your spellcasting modifier and the creature’s concentration. The item holds 2xIntelligence Modifier charges, but you can only have one SSI at a time.

Artificer 12: Use your last ASI to max out your Intelligence for super strong spells, better Flashes of Genius, and more Spells in your items!

Artificer 13: Your capstone level gets you fourth level artificer spells, like the freebies Blight and Death Ward. You can also use these slots to cast spells like Leomund’s Secret Chest for more effective bull swallowing. The bag of holding can still be messed with, and turning stuff invisible doesn’t get rid of it, but the Secret Chest will just hang out in a different dimension til you need it again. Also, you only have to cast it once every two months! You can also Summon Construct to make your own dolls to help out in combat. Sadly there isn’t a wood option, but this is as close as we’re gonna get.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Flying is good. Like, really good. And you’re so mobile you can fly without flying. You’re so good at jumping you take falling damage just by making a long jump.

With your expertise, enhanced ability, and flashes of genius, you can be pretty good at most skills if you really need to be.

Artificers make really cool toys, but most are limited by only having one action per turn. Thanks to your fast hands, you can make even better use of your infusions by using your bonus actions to either double up on item uses or multitask.

Cons:

We didn’t take that many levels of rogue, so your damage is a lot lower than your fleshier ninja counterparts.

While your magic and infused items are useful, they all get shut down immediately in anti-magic zones, giving you a big weak point most DMs won’t hesitate to smash.

While I wouldn’t call having extraneous spells a weakness, especially from a player’s perspective, it is kinda sloppy building on our end. Outside of healing word you really wouldn’t use the other subclass spells you get if you’re playing to character.

[rugbypolycule]

take your hand in mine

pairing: itadori yuuji x fushigoro megumi

characters: itadori yuuji, fushigoro megumi, kugisaki nobara, fushiguro tsumiki (mentioned),  fushiguro toji (mentioned), gojo satoru (mentioned)

rating: general audiences, no warnings apply

words: 1968

summary: yuuji is half-decent at painting his nails for a beginner. megumi is absolutely smitten and gets pulled along for the ride. they're both in love and clueless.

or: an intimacy fic where yuuji paints megumi's nails. because those boys deserve some quiet time.

ao3 link

Itadori Yuuji isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily. He rarely pays attention to the opinions of others, and not for a lack of caring. He has such a strong sense of self, such an unwavering faith in his own mind that criticism often flies right over his head. On anyone else, the trait would far too-closely resemble arrogance – even self-centeredness. The pink-haired boy, however, is too gentle, too empathetic and kind. His steady confidence shines in a bright halo that threatens to overwhelm even those with the strongest defenses.

In simpler, more candid terms, Fushigoro Megumi feels like he can’t breathe when Yuuji smiles. If he were more honest with himself, he’d recognise that his feelings of breathlessness aren’t reserved for Yuuji’s full-watt smile. The truth is that around Yuuji, Megumi’s lungs work overtime. He is almost constantly filled with this restless sort of energy, the urge to act. It makes his fingers itch and his pulse lurch to his throat.

It’s a cool day. It had been overcast for a while, the clouds heavy with an oncoming storm so strong it could almost be tasted. Yuuji loves days like these. The feeling of his hair standing on end, the thickness of the air around him, the velvety grey of the sky. It is the sort of day that makes you want to stay inside with lights dimmed and quiet music playing.

Yuuji finds himself in this exact position, scrolling through Pinterest on his laptop. Ever since meeting Megumi and Nobara, he had discovered a newfound love for fashion. He loved bright colours and stark geometric patterns and shiny skin and lips. It felt fresh and energising. He loved the attention to detail that went into putting together a full outfit – the studded belts, sheer scarves, painted nails.

Yuuji loved the look of nail polish. He could wear his dark uniform and still bring colour into his life, and for cheap. Plus, going shopping with Nobara was always a fun experience. She had picked out a bright purple shade for Yuuji, but he had his eyes on a bottle bursting with golden yellow. He bought them both at her loud insistence. They ate sushi that day. It was nice.

Now Yuuji sits on his bed, yellow bottle in slightly trembling hand. His nervous anticipation doesn’t come from fear that people would think he looked weird or strange; he is more worried about messing up the application and look messy, about which Nobara often complained. The concern quickly dissipates, though, making way for Yuuji’s quiet excitement as he opens the bottle.

The breaking of the seal causes a wave of fumes to fill his room. Yuuji’s nose tickles. He sneezes a few times, coming dangerously close to spilling the yellow paint everywhere. Thankfully, his reflexes are stronger than his body’s averse reaction. He slowly lifts the brush out of the bottle, taking care to wipe off the excess varnish just as Nobara had told him. With a slightly steadier hand, he begins painting his left index finger. He moves on to the next, then the next, then his right hand (which is considerably more difficult and why didn’t Nobara say anything about that?) Though he was unpracticed, he didn’t make a huge mess like he thought he would. Save for a few yellow-tinged cuticles, he had done a pretty decent job.

For a while, Yuuji just sits back and admires his work. Nobara had told him to wait no less than 15 minutes before even thinking about using his hands. Yuuji lasts 5 minutes before looking for a cooking video to pass the time. Nothing was smudged, and Yuuji quite happily sits through more than a few videos before the smell of the nail polish becomes too much for him. It had been plenty of time now, so he doesn’t worry about messing up his nails as he opens the door to his room.

He stops short as he finds Megumi on the other side of it.

If anyone asked, Megumi was just walking past Yuuji’s room for no reason. In fact, he was only going to get water, and had to pass by Yuuji’s room in order to get to the common area. The reason he stopped at his classmate’s door at all was simply to ponder the possibility of getting a snack. There was no other motive behind it.

Sadly, all his excuses do nothing to hide his deer-in-headlights expression. Before he can open his mouth in order to deny being there on purpose, a hand is thrust towards his face. Megumi flinches back in a sort of surprised confusion before realising that Yuuji has yellow fingernails.

“Do you like them?” asks Yuuji, grinning at Megumi like an expectant puppy.

Oh. There’s that hummingbird thrum in his bones again. The rapid movement of blood that makes his head light and his breath shallow. Yuuji is beautiful.

“Yeah,” Megumi tries to answer. It’s at times like these, when he’s lost for words and doesn’t know how to move his face to seem genuine, that he really appreciates Yuuji’s personality. Almost anyone else would have thought Megumi disinterested, or worse judgemental because of his monotone and lacklustre response. Thankfully, Yuuji just huffs out a laugh.

“You don’t have to sound so excited about it, Fushiguro.” He rolls his eyes, still grinning, arm still extended. “I thought you would’ve appreciated it more.”

Megumi softly bats his hand away. “I don’t ‘not appreciate it’, Itadori. It’s cool. I’m just… thinking about how it probably wouldn’t suit me.”

Megumi gets whacked on the shoulder. “Hey!” He complains as Yuuji pulls him into his room and sits him down on the bed. The nail polish smell, not having quite left the room yet, makes Megumi’s nose wrinkle up. Yuuji lets out a giggle that sounds like sunshine on skin.

“What are you doing?” Megumi almost whines as Yuuji rummages around in his closet. Yuuji turns to face him, pulling a plastic bag out with him with a flourish. His smile hasn’t left his face yet, and Megumi feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Won’t suit you? We’ll see about that,” says Yuuji, confident as always.

Megumi tries not to splutter. “Well. Yellow isn’t really my colour, Itadori.” He says his name too softly, like he always does. He tenses up and hopes Yuuji doesn’t notice.

To his almost-disappointment, Yuuji doesn’t react. Instead, he pulls out a bottle of purple nail polish and throws it towards the bed, a way too smug look on his face. Megumi wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

“Nobara got me to buy two,” he almost sing-songs, “so now you have to let me paint yours!”

In another reality, there is a Megumi that rips his gaze away from those brown eyes and mumbles something about Yuuji not making any sense. He leaves the room with his heart intact, and goes and eats ice cream with a spoon with his wolves in the dark.

Instead, he tries desperately to stay quiet, to suppress a gasp as Yuuji grabs his hand to inspect it. Megumi blames the tightness in his ribs on his binder and toughs it out. Except Yuuji’s hand is so warm and impossibly soft and that idiot shuffles close enough that their thighs are touching and it’s all. A lot.

Yuuji is still just cradling Megumi’s hand in both his own, turning it over and staring for so long it’s as if he’s trying to commit the skin to memory. The air is still thick with an oncoming storm, but now a tentative intimacy mingles amongst the electrified atoms. Megumi doesn’t dare move or speak, as if the universe will punish him by way of Yuuji letting go of his hand. He chooses rather to count each of Yuuji’s eyelashes, watch his nostrils flare as he breathes out in quiet concentration.

“You have really pretty fingers.” Yuuji murmurs, completely unaware of how devastating it is to Megumi’s heart.

Having been abandoned by his father, not knowing his mother, and his sister being in a coma, Megumi hasn’t been a close acquaintance to touch. Hell, even when his sister wasn’t confined to a hospital bed, he was too prickly and stubborn to receive hugs most of the time. Somewhere not-so-deep down, Megumi craves touch. Sometimes, he stares at the ceiling and wonders what it could feel like to be close to someone that didn’t involve the rigidity of training or the annoyance of Gojo’s hair ruffles. To feel warm and fuzzy and for it to be because of someone else’s hands.

Yuuji’s touch, combined with his soft words of praise, are a dream come true. Megumi can only cough awkwardly and watch as Yuuji starts to coat his short nails in purple. Yuuji’s tongue is almost the same colour as his hair, and it sticks slightly out of his mouth as he works. At some point Yuuji had turned that low music back on: a steady and slow lo–fi that does nothing to calm Megumi’s racing heart.

Yuuji keeps slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth on the back of Megumi’s hand as he glides the brush against his fingernails. It’s in all ways comforting as it is maddening, and Megumi does not expect the quiet, “you take such good care of your hands,” when it comes.

Yuuji chooses that exact moment to look into Megumi’s eyes. His face is so open and earnest and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep looking back without leaning forward into his space and just…

Megumi lets out a shaky breath. “Really? Thank you,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible with his pulse constricting in his jaw. His mouth feels dry.

Yuuji moves swiftly onto his other hand until all that’s left is his pinky. Not wanting to repeat the slight smudges he had accidentally painted onto Megumi’s left pinky, Yuuji pulls this last finger closer to his face, his breath fanning against it and sending shivers up Megumi’s whole arm. He finishes painting the nail quickly and carefully, but doesn’t put down Megumi’s hand.

Megumi can’t help the soft gasp he lets out as he feels a feather-light kiss pressed to his wrist. It’s as if his blood sings. They observe each other quietly for several moments – taking one another in, willing the silence to never break. Yuuji eventually pulls his face away from his work, now admiring the job.

“All finished.” Yuuji’s voice isn’t loud, but it fills the room. Megumi moves on the bed, beginning to pull his hand away. Yuuji drops his wrist in favour of grabbing Megumi’s waist with both hands, eyes almost panicked.

“You can’t leave yet!” His voice doesn’t raise above the volume of the music, but his words are emphatic. Megumi is trembling in his grasp. “You have to let them dry. And since I spent all that time painting your nails for you, it’s only fair that you stay here with me while you wait.”

Megumi is about to protest, knowing his limits are close to being reached. His face is burning hot and surely visible from the mere distance Yuuji sits away. He feels fit to burst.

The sky does before he has the chance.

The first clap of thunder sounds outside, and a pitter pattering of rain begins to thrum against the window. Megumi resigns himself to this still fume-filled room. He lies down on the bed next to Itadori Yuuji, feeling everything. He doesn’t answer when Yuuji asks if he wants to watch something, nor does he pay attention to whatever the pink-haired boy pulls up on YouTube for them.

Instead, Megumi exists in a content closeness to his friend, counting his eyelashes, and feeling the heat of Yuuji’s hands on his waist.

[zigtheeortega]

hidden

pairing | blaine x mc

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. public sex. minors dni.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink, @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura 

author’s note | alright i guess this is how my foreign affairs obsession begins. i had to do a bit of random world building since we’re only three chapters into this bitch so please just ignore it if any of this turns out to be out of character and refuted later or something. also i love blaine ! foreign affairs supremacy

•─────────────────•

Her cheek slipped out of the palm of her hand, forehead smacking the desk, nearly jumping out of her skin at the abrupt awakening.

“Ow.”

She prodded the tender spot on her face, thankful her foundation was thick.

A soft snore caught her attention – next to her, Blaine was passed out. Leaning back in his chair, his head was thrown back, arms crossed against his chest, the textbook on its face in his lap.

“Hey, Blaine,” she whispered, barely audible over his snores, shaking his arm gently. “Blaine. Blaine –”

She shoved his arm, and he stirred, eyes popping open. He sat up too quickly, his knee hitting the edge of the table. “Shit –”

“Shhh,” she shushed him, jabbing a thumb towards the front desk, which was unoccupied. “I think we’re the last ones in here.”

“Huh,” he yawned, rubbing his eye with one hand.

“Hey!” She said, noticing the sound of crinkling in his lap. She snatched it up by the spine, furiously smoothing out the pages with flattened palms. “This is a priceless Rutherland book. There aren’t that many copies of this volume as is, and this is the original print. Be careful.”

“If you wanted to feel me up, you could’ve just said so,” he smirked, voice gritty and just the right amount of rasp to send a tingle up her spine.

“In your dreams.”

The last thing she remembered was skimming an old Ardonian textbook, fighting sleep as she tried soaking in as much as she could.

“Yeah, I saw you there, Carina,” he teased. “You were pretty wild.”

She rolled her eyes, flipping to a new page in her notepad, jotting down their textbook titles. “Do you remember where you stopped?”

“Nope. Most boring history book I’ve ever read,” he said, through another yawn.

Blaine was clearly a fast learner – he’d known how much the whole “Ardona versus Rutherland” thing had bothered her, so he set out to make that the one thing he teased her relentlessly about.

“Yeah, alright. You say that like reading about –” she flipped back a few pages, “‘Ardonian formal wear’ is somehow more interesting. If I have to read another page about the vast variations of lapels and cufflinks, I’m going to throw up.”

He shrugged. “There’s more exciting stuff. You just need to know where to look.”

“Okay, then show me.”

“Isn’t the library closing or something?” He stretched lazily, gesturing towards the empty desks and tables around them.

“Not for another…” she trailed off, shaking her wrist to readjust her watch. “Thirty minutes.”

“If it gets us out of here faster, I’ll assign you all the homework you want,” he said, scooting back from his chair, raising his hands above his head in a final, full body stretch, his hoodie lifting just above the belt of his jeans, her gaze roaming the thin line of hair below his belly button.

She averted her gaze, silently thanking herself for not being so obvious that he noticed her gawking.

She followed suit, trailing behind him with a stack of hardbacks in her arms, sliding them back in place as they stalked deeper and deeper into the maze of books.

“Right… here,” he said, dragging a finger across the spines, settling on a large, thick one right smack in the middle of the shelf.

He gently tugged it out of place, flipping the cover to show it to her. “This is a favorite.”

“Henrietta Hayes,” she read the cover, gently taking the book from his hands, ignoring the spark when their fingers brushed.

“Yep,” he said, leaning up against the bookshelf. “I much prefer biographies. More of a connection.”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

She turned the withered pages with a delicate touch, skimming as she went. “So you’re related to her?” “Yeah. She’s a great-great-great-great somebody,” he shrugged. “My parents didn’t have time to manually shove Ardonian history down my throat, so they settled for the next best thing – gifting me a stack of biographies for my thirteenth birthday.”

She grimaced. “That’s rough. You probably wanted a PlayStation or something, huh?”

He laughed breathily, the rasp from his sleepiness still lacing his tone. “Yeah, I wanted Mario Kart but I got endless Hayes’ stories. Don’t get me wrong, they’re interesting, but it’s proof they’ve been trying to groom me for the throne since I can remember.”

“So… why are you showing me this?” Carina asked, a bit confused. “What’s your angle?”

He shrugged again. “Trying to prove that we’re better.”

She sighed, snapping the book shut. “Alright, it’s been fun hearing about your ancient family members, but I’ll stick to the general information, thank you very much.”

His hand wrapped gently around her wrist, holding her in place. “You needed a reminder that I’m more than whatever you’ve been taught to perceive me as. I’m not whoever Henrietta was. I’m not whoever my parents want me to be. I’m just as lost as you are.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “You’re right, but I can’t just ignore everything that’s been said to me. I’m supposed to hate you.”

“Well, do you?”

She sighed, staring at his hand, still holding her wrist. “I don’t hate anyone.”

“So, a non-answer. How diplomatic of you,” he scoffed, lip curled.

He was gorgeous, and infuriating. A horrible combination.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me or we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Carina whispered angrily, trying to keep her voice low despite her rage.

“You’re joking, right?” He shook his head, dropping his hand. “Carina, I don’t know what kind of revisionist bullshit you’re pulling right now, but if I remember correctly, you kissed me first.”

“Well – Well, my kiss didn’t count! It was a peck. I was coming down from an adrenaline rush. It wasn’t anything,” she shook her head, sliding the book back on the shelf. “You could’ve just left it at that, but you went in for round two, so you made it all complicated.”

“Yeah, I went in for round two because the first kiss sucked,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

She sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold back a startled gasp. “If it sucked, you wouldn’t have gone in for another one.”

“Nope. Just trying to clean up after you,” he said, a hint of a teasing smile on his lips.

He was insufferable. Annoying. Unbearable. But he was gorgeous.

“What are we even arguing about? We’re literally just arguing to argue right now,” she huffed, flinging her arms in the air, letting her palms slap her thighs.

“You want to hate me, but you can’t. And you’re a bad kisser.”

She gritted her teeth, grabbing the lapels of his denim jacket, tugging him forward to smash her lips against his.

This kiss was a lot different than the last one – born out of frustration and anger and delicious sexual tension rather than exhilaration.

He groaned into her mouth, his hands grazing the hem of her skirt, slowly tracing the shape of her hips. He fisted the fabric there, pulling her closer, closer than they’d ever been.

The library was nearly silent, the dozens of rows around them completely unoccupied.

He slid his hands underneath her blazer, tugging at the hem of her skirt with a crooked finger. She could barely focus on what their mouths were doing anymore, considering he was two seconds away from copping a feel.

She pulled away, panting. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He laughed, just as out of breath as she was. “There’s nobody around. Live a little.”

“I can’t afford to ‘live a little’. You of all people should understand that, unless you’re just that dense.”

“Ouch. That almost hurt,” he smiled, hand snaking around her waist.

She smacked his chest with an open hand, her palm thudding inaudibly against the material of his hoodie. “Shut up.”

“Is this the part where you expect me to say ‘make me’? How cliche of you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And you’re holding back because you think you owe people shit. You should let go,” he said, raising his hand to cup her chin. “I’ll be right here to catch you.”

Her lips parted involuntarily, a little dumbfounded by just how… suave this guy was. She was clearly immune to his charms in some capacity, but had just enough cracks in her exterior that he knew he could slip through.

“And you said I was cliched,” she said, running her hands down his lapels and smoothing them back in place. “I’ve, uh, never done this before.”

“Made out in a library? Weak –” He cut himself off at the look in her eyes, surprise flitting across his features before he wiped it away, the teasing back in place as quickly as it left.

“Guess I underestimated you,” he murmured, glancing around to check the surrounding area.

“That’s the best dirty talk I’ve heard in awhile,” she grinned.

He raised his brows at her, challenging. “You’re that easily impressed?”

He leaned in, so close that his lips grazed her earlobe, short whiskers scratching her jawline. “Wait till you see what else my mouth can do.”

She sighed involuntarily, eyelids fluttering. She really hated how her body reacted to his voice, low and grating, the bass of it sending shockwaves into her nerves. “Fuck…”

“Think I can make you cum before the librarian does her last rounds?” He said in her ear, hand splaying across the back of her skirt, gripping her ass, chuckling when she gasped.

“What about you?” She breathed, tilting her head to expose more of her neck to him, revelling in the way he sucked and nipped her skin.

“I know you’ll get me off. I mean, look at you,” he said, cupping her breast with his free hand. She sighed again, annoyed at herself for reacting – again.

His hands roamed, settling at the front of her skirt. “Is this okay?”

She nodded, rolling her lips to keep from making noise as his fingers slipped under her skirt, fingertips grazing the inside of her thighs. She sucked in a breath when he deftly pulled her underwear to the side, the pads of his fingers sliding against her.

“Don’t tell me auntie Henrietta’s got you this worked up.”

“Stop teasing me – no time –” she managed to get out, whining when his thumb circled her clit.

God, the act of being seen alone with him was enough to get her a headlining story, and kissing him would get her blacklisted faster than her mother could call her and chew her out – but fucking him? She’d never be able to show her face in public again.

But something about the rush of being with him, making her own choices, being spontaneous, was enough to make the decision for her.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Blaine,” she groaned, her nails digging into his shoulder, forehead pressed against him as she tried to focus on containing her noises.

“Turn around,” he ordered, spinning them around so she was pressed up against the bookcase. Thank god they were in the back, hidden by the edge of it.

She gripped the wood, trying to hide the trembling of her arms as he hurriedly shoved her skirt up over her hips, bunched at her waist.

He ran his hands over her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh. He toyed with the back of her thong, slipping his hand under the fabric before dragging it to the side.

“C’mon, stop staring. We don’t have all day,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Goddamn, Carina,” he said, low and breathy. “Keep looking at me like that and it’ll be hard to stay quiet.”

She stared at the books in front of her, browsing the titles while he unzipped his jeans and rolled on a condom.

“You’re looking for books, even now?” He laughed, reaching his hand underneath her to stroke her clit gently. “You’re something else.”

“I was not –” she said, sucking in air when he expertly curled his fingers inside of her. “Jesus –”

“You sure you’re alright with this?” He asked, pumping himself slowly – she could feel his knuckles graze her ass and it was enough to make her breaths quicken. 

“Yes, Blaine – please she could be coming by any minute now –” She was cut off by him sinking into her slowly, languidly, and she dropped her head, sighing into the crook of her elbow, arms already bent and shaking.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, rasp still twinging his voice. He leaned forward, his left arm snaking to cup her breast, the right gently grabbing her chin to tilt her head towards him.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you,” he said, dragging his thumb across her parted lips while he pumped into her slowly, hips rolling deliciously slow.

“Oh my god – I –” Her senses were overstimulated – the way he was fucking her, talking to her, looking at her – she was already putty in his hands. She moaned an incomprehensible phrase when she grinded her hips, Blaine bottoming out inside of her.

“Use your inside voice,” he laughed breathily into her ear.

She opened her jaw, sucking his thumb into her mouth, revelling in the way his lids fluttered when she ran her tongue over the pad of it.

His pace quickened, hips snapping into her. He captured her earlobe between his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose, his low gravelly moans right in her ear.

As much as Carina wanted to scold herself for getting too comfortable with him that quickly, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She was almost grateful for the forced tension with him via their parent’s pressuring – it made fucking him much more gratifying.

It wasn’t hate fucking, because she really didn’t hate him. He was annoying, but not evil. It was definitely a twisted act of vengeance – their reputations wouldn’t survive being caught like this, but neither of them cared in the moment.

God, it felt so good for her to just let go of the million expectations that everyone had for her to chase the one thing she wanted. That level of spontaneity was addicting – she didn’t blame Blaine for rebelling so often.

“Fuck – you’re so good –” he said, tilting her head to press hot, open mouthed kisses against her parted lips.

Probably to keep her quiet, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. He tasted so sweet, so fucking sweet –

“Blaine, please, I’m close,” she said through soft gasps, lips still touching his.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Keep going like that, and touch me, please,” she said, whining way louder than she intended to when his fingers found her again.

He covered her mouth with his hand, slowing his pace so he could scope it out. It was seemingly quiet, still, their soft pants the only sound.

She wiggled her hips, smiling against his hand when he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Such a tease,” he said, before moving his hips again.

She braced her arms against the bookshelf, pushing against him. He set a relentless pace, the low thumps of her skin against his jeans just loud enough that they definitely could have been noticed by someone a couple rows away.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmured, the words of affirmation falling from his lips as naturally as his teasing did.

The familiar intense feeling washed over her, clenching around him while white lined the edges of her vision. She folded her arms on the edge of the shelf, dipping her head so she could catch her breath.

“Can I just say that you’re looking absolutely regal right now?” He smirked, pulling out of her.

“You didn’t finish though,” she said, weakly, still recovering.

“You can make it up to me later,” he said, lightly patting her ass before pulling her skirt back in place.

“No, this can’t happen again,” she shook her head, turning to face him completely, one hand still resting on the shelf for balance. “This was a one–time thing.”

“Oh, so you’re willing to admit defeat so easily, huh? I guess Ardonians are better in every way,” he shrugged, resituating himself.

There he was again – Blaine was back to teasing, his automatic default.

She gritted her teeth, pushing his chest with a pointed finger. “You not finishing isn’t some kind of competitive edge over me –”

“It is, but continue.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “I can’t with you. Bye.”

She pushed past him, heading back towards the tables to grab her stuff. Just as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, the door to the stairs creaked open, the librarian emerging.

“You’ll need to leave. We’re closing now.”

She nodded. “Have a great night.”

The air outside was warm, still, the last rays of sun long gone. The campus looked nearly abandoned, a few stragglers entering and exiting the residential buildings.

“Hey, Carina, wait – you forgot this –”

She turned, lips already curled in disgust. He really didn’t know when to stop.

“It’s your fancy fountain pen. Figured you needed it,” he said, tossing it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, reaching out to snatch it from his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“Damn, someone’s annoyed. Turn around, I’ll put it in your backpack for you.”

“If it gets you away from me faster, sure.”

“Night, Carina. See you in class,” he grinned, giving her a solute before turning in the opposite direction.

Tatum approached her, brows furrowed. “You really shouldn’t be seen with him.”

“I know,” she sighed, tugging the straps of her bag tighter. She took off in front of him, briskly walking back towards her suite.

“Hey… stop walking for a second. I need to see something,” Tatum said, annoyance lacing his voice.

“Uh… alright,” she agreed, halting in place.

He closed the gap between them, standing right behind her. Her cheeks heated a bit, wondering if he sensed something off about her. His instincts couldn’t be that good, could they?

“What the –” he spat, the sound of light crinkling alerting her.

He circled her, holding something up. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

Blaine had slipped the condom wrapper into the clip of her pen before returning it.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, wondering how the hell she got caught up with the son of her family’s nemeses, and why she loved the feeling of eating the forbidden fruit.

He was the flame, but she was the gasoline, for sure. She didn’t know how long she could fan the flame without being burned, but she found herself hoping for much, much longer.

––––

[pretchatta]

tripping the light fantastic

The brief was simple: infiltrate an Imperial gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Hera's contact had procured them false identities as wealthy socialites as well as providing a description of the target, so all they had to do was show up. Kanan didn't see how this operation could go wrong.

Of course, that was before he knew what Hera was wearing.

Things became a whole lot more complicated after that.

that evening wear series i started in june? i finished it!

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 7.5k words

---

“Hera, the hovertaxi’s here!”

Kanan tried not to sound too impatient as he called to her from the cargo hold of the Ghost, but he was cold.

The thin, silken material of his shirt was cool against his skin, and his formal jacket was doing nothing to insulate him against the recycled air of the ship. Hera had told him he’d be fine once they reached their destination, but they would never get there if she didn’t hurry up.

“I’m coming!” came her muffled shout from somewhere above him.

He heard the clatter of heels against the deck and decided to believe her this time, so he walked back down the extended boarding ramp. The spaceport outside was no warmer, but it was a step closer to the extravagant Imperial gala they would be attending tonight. The impractical outfit had been provided by the same contact who had procured their invitations – or, rather, invitations for the two wealthy socialites they would be posing as.

Kanan waved at the taxi driver to indicate they wouldn’t be much longer and got a flat stare from the rhodian in response. He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes; Hera’s contact had insisted that they’d stand out if they didn’t follow fashion trends, and apparently the big one at the moment was glitter eyeshadow. It made his eyebrows itch.

He heard the sounds of someone coming down the ladder behind him and turned back to face the cargo bay.

“I’m sorry,“ Hera was saying, her voice clearer now she was closer. "The straps on these shoes are so fiddly, I don’t understand how anyone could have the patience to wear them every day.”

"You should have said something,” Kanan called back with a grin. Sometimes she really made this too easy. “I’m sure I could’ve helped, I’m great with my fing-”

He was cut off by the sight of Hera appearing at the top of the boarding ramp, the comment dying on his lips. Silhouetted by the light coming from inside the Ghost, one very accurate way to describe her appearance was stunning.

She was wearing a long, sleeveless dress made of the same silken material as Kanan’s shirt, and in the same deep burgundy colour. The V-shaped neckline plunged almost to her waist amidst the elegantly draped material, which clung to her hips and cascaded down her legs. The hem fluttered around her calves, revealing the impossibly high stiletto heels that were the reason for her lateness. They matched the colour of her dress, which contrasted beautifully against her skin.

Kanan gaped at her as all other thoughts fled from his head. He rarely saw Hera without her gloves, let alone the rest of her baggy flight suit; the combination of the dress and so much bare skin was almost too much for his brain to process.

She began to descend the ramp, hips and lekku swaying, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him. As she drew near he could see she had applied a small amount of makeup – not much, but just enough to enhance her features, plus her own smear of glitter eyeshadow.

She came to a halt in front of him. “So, how do I look?”

He struggled to find an adequate response to her question.

“Words fail me.”

“That bad, huh?“ She gave him a knowing smile, then gestured behind him. "We should get going before our driver gets bored of waiting.”

The thud-hiss of the ramp closing jolted him back to himself. They were leaving Chopper in charge of the ship while they were gone, something that Hera seemed far more comfortable with than he was.

“Right, yeah, let’s go,” he said, shaking his head a little to clear it. He fell in step beside her as they walked over to where the taxi waited.

As Kanan opened the door for her, his hand automatically went to the small of her back to help her in. He aborted the motion with only inches to spare; her dress was completely backless. He jerked his arm back, feeling self-conscious about touching her bare skin, and managed to turn the movement into offering her his arm instead.

Hera took it with a smile as she climbed into the hovertaxi. Kanan followed, careful to sit so that there was still space between them, feeling suddenly warm despite his earlier discomfort. It was dawning on him that the evening ahead might be very difficult – and not just because of their mission.

Their false identities had them attending the gala husband and wife, and he was glad they didn’t need to start pretending until they got to the venue. He knew he hadn’t been subtle in his attraction towards her these past few months, but there was a line between casual flirting and going too far that he had been careful not to cross. Sometimes he thought he saw flickers of what could be reciprocation from her, but she had never given him any indication that she welcomed or returned his feelings and he did his best to respect that.

He had a horrible feeling that he would be getting awfully close to that line tonight.

When they pulled up to the venue, Kanan played the part of a dutiful husband, climbing out first and holding the door for Hera. She gave him a grateful smile as she took his proffered arm and let him help her out; now that the initial shock of her appearance had worn off, he could see that she was struggling without her usual flight suit and boots.

Their destination was a large private home worthy of the title ‘mansion’. It was made all the more impressive by the way it was uplit in the early evening twilight. Though it was in the middle of a bustling city, a narrow border of immaculately trimmed hedges surrounded the house, separating it from the buildings around it. A short flight of steps led up to the open front doors, warm light spilling out in welcome.

“Ready to put on a show?” Hera murmured from beside him.

Their brief was simple: infiltrate the gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Imperial suppliers often liked to finalise business deals at events such as these, and tonight ownership of a large consignment of weapons would be changing hands. Hera and Kanan were to locate the seller and swap the chip containing the manifests and shipping details of the sale with a fake, and then transmit the information to Hera’s contact. The shipment would be hijacked and stolen before the Imperials realised anything was wrong. It put fuel and supplies in the Ghost and took firepower away from the Empire, which made it Hera’s favourite kind of operation.

Unfortunately the guest in question was half the reason for the not-inconsiderable security force that was also in attendance tonight. Their disguises would get them in, but it would take a lot of skill and probably a fair amount of luck to grab the chip and then get out. The longer they could go without raising suspicion, the better.

Kanan turned to look down at her, his expression serious. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Her only response was to adjust her hold on his arm, linking them together more securely. He was happy with this; it struck the perfect balance of apparent intimacy, yet she could easily withdraw if she felt uncomfortable. He led her up the steps and to the doors.

The entrance hall beyond might have been described as small and modest by some. Those were the people this event was no doubt for – by Kanan’s standards, it was opulent.

Smooth blue stone lined the walls and contrasted against the golden tones of the floor. The gentle burbling of running water came from a small fountain in the center and echoed off the high, arched ceiling. Ornamental plants in intricately decorated pots lined the edges of the room, many with colourful flowers in bloom, their perfume hanging in the air. A heavy curtain in a rich, deep gold colour hung at the far end, and the faint sound of music could be heard from beyond.

“May I see your invitations?”

A sharply-dressed man in all black had been waiting just inside the door. Pale, slight and human, he couldn’t be a better example of an Imperial if he tried. That image was only reinforced by his companion; standing just behind him was a stormtrooper, silent and imposing.

Kanan affected a look of polite surprise. He had assumed they would give their cover names, maybe present their falsified chain codes. He flicked a glance at Hera, who was looking expectantly at him.

“Invitations?” he stalled, hoping desperately that her skintight dress might yet contain hidden pockets.

“I need to confirm that you are allowed in,” the doorman explained patiently. “You did bring your invitations with you, as requested?”

“Of course we did!” Hera assured him with a smile. “My husband wouldn’t have forgotten something as important as our invitations. They’re in your pocket, aren’t they, dear?”

Kanan tried to remain calm as he widened his eyes significantly at her. He hadn’t put anything in his pockets before they left, and he was pretty sure there wasn’t any chip or card in there already.

“Are they?” he asked.

Hera’s smile became fixed, and he got the distinct impression she was resisting rolling her eyes at him. She stepped forwards, right up to him, and then one of her hands brushed against his hip. Heat flashed through his core in response to her touch. Her hand continued downwards, slipping into his pocket, as her face moved closer to his. It took all of his concentration to hold still.

“Must we play this game at every event, love?” she murmured. There was a low, sensual quality to her already wonderful voice that only stoked the simmering heat in his gut. Before he could think of a way to respond, she leaned in further and her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. It was only the lightest of touches, but his skin still tingled even after she pulled away.

She waved the two slips of flimsi that had just been in his pocket at him, giving him a pointed look.

“Here they are,” Hera said airily to the sentry, passing him the flimsi. “You’ll have to excuse my husband – I married him for his looks, not his brains. But can you blame me?”

The man gave a forced chuckle and looked distinctly uncomfortable as he gave their invitations a cursory glance. Then he gave them a nod and waved them towards the curtained archway.

Kanan let Hera lead him across the atrium. He shook his head slightly; right now, he needed to focus. They had a job to complete, after all.

“I always knew you hired me for my handsome face,” he joked, quiet enough that the doorman wouldn’t hear.

He expected her to laugh it off as she usually did at his attempts at flirting, to gently remind him of the line that existed between them. Yet again, Hera threw him off balance.

She shot him a small smile as she took his arm. “Well, it wasn’t for your ability to check your pockets.”

He was unable to come up with a response as she led him beyond the curtain.

The gala was in full swing on the other side. A huge ballroom stretched before them, towering columns of more pale blue stone holding up the arched ceiling over a curved white dancefloor. The music came from a live band at the far end, and guests in gowns of all colours swayed and twirled over the dancefloor in time with the beat. Precious gemstones glittered under the soft lights, along with shimmering makeup and body paint akin to the eyeshadow Hera and Kanan wore.

Those who weren’t dancing were talking and mingling around the edges of the room. Small droids wove between them, carrying trays of drinks and canapés. Hera snagged them each a drink from a passing droid and they began to slowly make their way through the crowd.

Kanan caught snatches of conversation as they passed, mostly inane chatter with the occasional obsequious flattery or plain flaunting of wealth. He knew without a doubt that every single person present cared only about themselves; the whole event was a sickening display of the extreme inequality that was not just present but practically encouraged by the Empire. He almost felt disappointed that this was a stealth mission and not an opportunity to cause chaos.

They completed their circuit having managed to make only minimal interactions with other guests, and found a space to stand in. The part of the crowd nearest the entryway moved too much to allow them to survey the whole room effectively, so they ended up next to one of the columns about halfway around the dancefloor. It made watching the entrance difficult, but they had a decent view of the rest of the ballroom.

So far, none of the guests present were the person they were here for. Kanan didn’t have a description of their target but Hera had told him they would have a golden sunburst emblem displayed prominently on their outfit. The riot of colour made spotting something that would normally be so distinctive difficult, but they had both been looking and were yet to see the sunburst.

The curtain moved and Kanan craned his neck to see who the newest arrival to the party was, but the ladies’ matching black dresses held no additional colours.

“Let’s dance,” Hera said suddenly from beside him.

Kanan turned to stare at her. “What?”

She was scanning the rest of the room anxiously. “Everyone else seems to be having at least one, and I don’t want to stand out. Plus, we’ll have a better view of the entryway from the dancefloor.” She dumped her empty glass onto a passing droid-table and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

Kanan barely had a moment to put down his own half-finished drink before she was dragging him towards the dancefloor.

“But I don’t know how to dance!” he protested after her.

It earned him a sceptical look over her shoulder. “How can you not know how to dance? It’s easy, just follow my lead.”

She found them a space amongst the twirling couples and turned to him, still holding his hand in one of her own. He briefly noted that they did in fact have a great view of the entrance from here, and then she stepped in close and his attention narrowed to only her.

The heels brought Hera’s face high enough to be very close to his; her breath ghosted over his cheek. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and through the thin material of his shirt he could feel her fingers were still cool from where they’d been holding her drink. He didn’t know what to do with his other hand, and in his indecision it hovered awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Here,” she told him, releasing his shoulder just long enough to place his hand on her waist. His fingers brushed the soft, bare skin of her back and he had to resist the urge to touch more. His whole body felt suddenly very hot.

“Now try to follow my feet with yours,” she murmured.

It took Kanan a few moments to register her words. He could feel the heat of her body radiating through the thin silks of their clothes, and the sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose. He wanted to either push her away or pull her closer; it was agony having her so close, and yet not close enough.

Hera started to move, leading the steps of their dance, and Kanan’s brain struggled to keep up.

“Kanan,” Hera hissed as he stumbled, almost standing on her foot.

This wasn’t working. He needed to focus, or they’d start drawing attention to themselves.

Kanan took a deep breath and cast his mind back to a place he’d sworn he’d never return to. He wasn’t touching the Force, not quite, but it still felt wrong to call on the old meditation techniques. He felt the wash of calm sweep through him as he emptied his mind and regulated his breathing. The Force hummed in response, so close and so ready for him to take it, use it, draw strength from it. But he held himself back from going that far. All he needed was to ground himself.

Emotion, yet peace.

How ironic that, after years of denying his past, it was the Jedi code that he most needed now.

Kanan ignored the irony of his predicament as he followed the movement of Hera’s feet carefully, trying to stay in time with them without getting underneath the sharp heels. Fortunately the steps were simple, and it wasn’t long before they settled into a rhythm.

He managed to keep it together as they slowly traversed the dancefloor. Between focusing on his breathing and on Hera’s steps, he had no awareness of anything else; the contact could have been dancing right next to them and he wouldn’t have noticed. But their cover remained intact, and Hera had eyes sharp enough for both of them.

Once Hera saw that he was keeping up with her, she experimented with something different. She released his shoulder and spun away, still holding his hand. Her dress flared out around her calves as she moved, revealing more of her smooth, slender legs. Her eyes sparkled with the joy of the dance. Kanan’s heart skipped a beat; she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She twirled back into his arms and he took another deep, grounding breath. He wasn’t sure if it was weaker from the dancing or if he was just getting used to it, but her perfume wasn’t as overwhelming now. This whole semi-meditation thing was getting easier, too; maybe he should try it more often.

“I still can’t see the target,” Hera murmured in his ear, and his concentration broke. That low, lovely voice would always be his undoing.

Fortunately, his feet seemed to have memorised the steps and didn’t need his brain to continue moving.

“Maybe they’re not coming,” he replied lightly, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

“No, this contact has never been wrong before. They’ll be here.” She sounded confident in her assertion, and Kanan really wasn’t in a position to argue.

“Though, if they take much longer,” she continued, “we should check out the buffet table.”

He felt an amused grin spread over his face. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I meant to grab a ration bar before we left, but getting ready took longer than I expected.”

Something about her admission made affection swell in his chest.

“I think this dance is almost over,” he said, hearing the song start to wind down and trying to hide his relief. “If you want to keep watch I can go find you some food.”

If she was lucky they might have Gruuvan Shaal kebabs, or even some meiloorun. His mind had already drifted to thoughts of what Hera might like to eat as he started to take a step back, but then her grip on him tightened.

“No – wait – I think that’s them!”

Hera’s arms were suddenly steel, holding him in place as she craned her head over his shoulder. Kanan felt frozen in place.

“Where?” He tried to turn to see for himself.

“Don’t look, just keep dancing,” she hissed. “I’ll try to move us closer.”

The band started up the next song, a slower one with a different beat. Hera let go of his hand to place both of hers on his shoulders. Somehow, she was now even closer than before.

“Put your hands on my back,” she murmured, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “Keep following my steps.”

He did as he was told, his short-circuiting brain incapable of anything else, both hands splayed against her bare skin. It was warm under his palms but he resisted the urge to stroke his fingers along her spine. She had moved closer to him so that her chin rested on his shoulder and her chest pressed against his. The silk did nothing to hide the curves of her body; combined with the touch of her bare skin, it would be easy to imagine there were no clothes between them at all.

Don’t think about that, he told himself sternly. He wondered if Hera could tell he was feeling a lot warmer than usual. He tried meditation again, hoping it would cool the flush in his cheeks, but it was harder than before.

Hera led him in the new dance, slightly easier than the previous one. It was slower and had fewer steps, so it wasn’t long before Kanan could let his feet continue for him. There were more distractions with this one, however; as well as Hera being much closer, every now and then the tips of her lekku would brush the backs of his hands. Whenever that happened it was like the light touch was igniting sparks over his skin. The meditation didn’t seem to be as effective now; he worried that at any moment his hands would start trembling.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Hera whispered. Kanan felt her breath over his earlobe.

“Her?”

“Mikkian, middle-aged, blue skin. She’s got the golden sunburst on her shoulder; she’s definitely our target.”

He felt Hera slightly change the angle of their movement, guiding them across the dancefloor. The steps lengthened and Kanan needed to focus harder to follow them. If anything, the distraction helped.

The band began the final cadence of the song, and Kanan found himself desperately hoping that Hera would let them stop dancing. Maybe even step outside for a minute. Fresh air would be good.

“She’s going somewhere – this is our chance!”

A moment later Hera had slipped out of his arms and was moving away. It took his mind a few moments to catch up, but by then she’d taken his hand again and was leading him off the dancefloor.

With Hera gone, clarity returned to his mind in an instant. They were on the job now: hunting an Imperial for tactical data.

This, he could do.

They were on the other side of the dancefloor to where they’d started, and slightly closer to the curtained entryway. Kanan caught sight of the mikkian woman walking around the edge of the room, staying close to the wall. The sunburst was an oversized brooch on one of her shoulders, contrasting elegantly with the deep purple of her velvoid dress. She reached another curtain and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped through and disappeared on the other side. Kanan caught a flash of an ornate archway like the one they had entered through and guessed it led to the rest of the mansion.

Hera was still leading him after her, weaving around a table that was in their way. Something caught his eye and he reached out a hand to snag it as they passed, slipping it into his pocket. They reached the curtain that clearly marked the area beyond as off-limits to gala guests and Hera paused, turning to meet Kanan’s eyes. He nodded to indicate he was ready, and she wordlessly pushed it aside so they could follow the mikkian through.

Beyond was a grand-looking hallway. A lush strip of carpet ran down the center and ornately framed paintings hung along the walls. Kanan caught a flash of blue head-tendrils disappearing around the next corner, but Hera was already in pursuit. He wasn’t sure what Hera’s plan was when they reached her; pretend to recognise her and pick her pocket? Knock her out and rob her, hoping no-one would find her before they could get out? Whatever it was, he was ready to follow his captain’s lead.

Something caught his eye, and Kanan nudged Hera. She glanced up at the hidden security cam he indicated and tapped her temple, then winked. It took Kanan a moment to understand, but when he did he nodded with the dawning realisation. There were some types of glitter that scattered light in such a way that it scrambled any sensors trying to detect it; their eyeshadow was not just a fashion statement, but a way to conceal their faces on any security recordings.

Rounding the corner, they found the hallway split as a staircase led up to the next storey of the house. Hera silently pointed to a recent scuff in the thick pile of the carpet on the lowest step. Between the soft surface and the still-audible music from the ballroom their target had the advantage of stealth on them, but there were other ways to track her.

They ascended the stairs in a crouch, but needn’t have bothered. As they reached the hallway at the top they saw a door just finish closing. As quietly as they could, they crept to the door, past more doors, curtains and paintings. Hera was reaching for the handle when Kanan felt rather than heard a presence at the foot of the stairs.

He stiffened.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered to her.

She quickly glanced around. “In here!”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him behind a heavy, floor-length curtain opposite the door the mikkian had gone through.

It turned out to be covering a small alcove housing some kind of ancient relic displayed on a stone plinth. Hera shoved him into the back of the alcove, wedging herself between him and the plinth and twitching the curtain closed again behind them. It was thick enough to let in no light, so they were cast into darkness.

When Hera didn’t move back, Kanan realised just how little space there was around the relic and its stand. It felt like every inch of Hera’s body was pressed against his, warm and soft and utterly maddening. It didn’t help that, in the dark, all of his senses seemed heightened to compensate for the lack of sight. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

He heard the muffled sound of several sets of heavy footsteps on the carpet, and then the soft swish of the door opening and closing. The sweet scent of Hera’s perfume was in his nose again, though this time there was something else underlying it, something familiar that made him think of home. That was strange; he didn’t have a home. Not beyond the Ghost, if that even counted. Muffled voices brought him back to the present situation, a man’s and a woman’s coming from the room behind the door and another one, nearer but tinny, as though it came through a comm.

“This must be the hand-off,” Hera breathed against his ear, and Kanan had to work to stop his knees from giving out. “Sounds like a guard outside the door.”

“What’s the plan?” he managed.

There was a brief pause as she thought. “On my mark, we stun the guard and then two in the room. I’ll grab the data, you keep watch, and then we get out of here.”

“Got it.” He gave a small nod, forgetting that she couldn’t see it. “Wait – we don’t have blasters.”

“I do.”

She shifted against him and then something warm and soft that felt suspiciously like skin brushed against his hand. He snatched it away like it had been burned

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Getting my blaster,” she replied in a calm whisper. “The only way I could conceal one in this dress was with a thigh holster.”

Oh. Okay. Just her leg. That was all it was, just her bare thigh pressing against his hip from where she’d hitched the dress up. Which he’d just touched. His heart was in his throat.

“On three,” Hera whispered, shifting again as she resumed standing on two feet.

“One.”

Kanan felt the hard edge of her blaster against his shoulder as she brought it up to a ready position.

“Two.”

He reached out a hand, ready to pull the curtain back.

“Three.”

Kanan whipped the curtain aside and they burst out of the alcove. Hera squeezed two shots off at the single stormtrooper standing guard, and Kanan was at the door before they finished hitting the floor. It swung open, and Kanan dived into the room beyond.

He caught a brief glimpse of a pair of startled faces and made a split-second decision to go for the man. He was tall, human, and dressed in the crisp, dark uniform of an Imperial naval officer. A swift blow to the head sent him reeling as Hera shot a stun blast at the mikkian. Before the man could recover, Kanan had stepped to the side so Hera could take him down too. It was all over in seconds, the only sounds having come from Hera’s compact little blaster.

He turned to congratulate her, but Hera was already on her knees beside the mikkian patting her down for the datachip. Kanan strode to the door instead, hauling the unconscious trooper inside before stretching out his senses for signs of anyone else approaching.

A prickle at the back of his neck told him that was sooner than he’d have liked.

“Hera, we’re about to have company,” he warned her.

“Hang on – wait, I think it might be inside–”

His ears caught the soft thumps of heavy boots coming up the stairs.

“Hera!”

“Got it!”

There was a click sound and he glanced back to see the mikkian’s sunburst brooch open in Hera’s hand, revealing a hidden chamber with a small datachip inside. Unfortunately, his next look to the hallway outside showed him a pair of stormtroopers cresting the stairs.

“Hey, you!” one shouted.

Kanan cursed as they started to raise their weapons. He ducked back into the room as a pair of plasma bolts hit the doorframe.

“Time to go!” Hera was already on her feet behind him, and he let her push him aside as she stepped up to the doorway with her blaster ready. She darted out just as the bootsteps reached the door; two shots later and both troopers were on the floor, unconscious.

Kanan grabbed her hand. "They'll have called for help; run!"

He half-dragged her in the opposite direction, continuing down the hallway and away from the scene they had created.

“There goes our stealth,” Hera panted from beside him.

They rounded a corner and found the hallway continued ahead, though there were also stairs leading upwards to one side. Kanan shook his head and led Hera so that they stayed on the same level; they wanted to be going down, not up.

“If we can get back to the main party, we can lose ourselves in the crowd,” he said to her, a plan for their escape already forming in his mind.

No doubt it would not be long before someone discovered the five unconscious bodies they had left behind, but they wouldn’t have a description of who to look for. As long as they weren’t caught anywhere they shouldn’t be there would be no reason for anyone to assume they were anything other than genuine guests.

“Good idea, but first we need to get there,” Hera pointed out somewhat breathlessly.

There was another corner up ahead, and if Kanan’s sense of direction was leading him true they should be on the other side of the ballroom now. If the mansion was somewhat symmetrical, then just here –

“There you go,” he panted as they turned the corner. "Our way back."

At the other end of the hall was a staircase just like the one they’d come up. They raced forwards.

Kanan only got a flicker of warning, but it was enough. He skidded to a halt and flung out an arm to stop Hera just as the tinny sound of a communicator reached them from the stairs.

“–assaulted guests and took out three troopers. Do not let them escape. Repeat, all squads to the Clovis wing, at least one attacker–”

The now-familiar sound of boots on carpet was coming up the stairs.

Hera tried the handle of the nearest door, but it didn’t budge.

"It's locked!" Hera hissed.

Kanan looked for an alcove like the one they had hidden behind before. There was a matching one here but it held no ornament, only an empty plinth, and so there was no curtain to conceal them. There was no way they’d be able to run back around the corner before they were spotted, and standing here, out of bounds and out of breath, looked far too suspicious for them to be simply wayward guests. After all, what else would they have been doing?

The white tops of a pair of stormtrooper helmets came into view on the staircase.

Kanan had an idea.

“You can forgive me for this later,” he whispered, pushing Hera by the shoulders into the alcove. He desperately hoped she would; it was a terrible idea, but it might just work.

This space was no larger than the one on the other side of the house. His chest pressed against hers as he yanked the tie out of his hair. His other hand still held her blaster which he offered back to her. She took it automatically despite the confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t release it, instead guiding her to hide it under his jacket as he raked his free hand through his now-loose hair.

The stormtroopers had reached the top of the stairs; they’d be spotted any second now. Time to sell it.

A brush of his fingers tilted her chin up towards his face.

“What–”

Her words were cut off as he bent his neck and kissed her.

Time seemed to stop the moment their lips met. The world fell silent, the only sound his heart pounding in his ears, straining after their sprint through the mansion. His awareness shrank to Hera and only Hera. She had frozen against him, though only a moment ago he’d felt her breathing just as heavily as he was. Not that he was breathing any more; time had stopped.

It was a simple kiss, a press of his lips against hers. It was nothing. It was everything. It was Hera.

And then she kissed him back.

He knew it was just the surprise wearing off as her brain caught up to what they were doing. He knew she was just maintaining the cover he’d hastily created for them. But that didn’t stop how right it felt.

The hand still on her wrist gently stroked its way up her arm to her shoulder, while his fingers under her chin caressed the soft skin of her neck, down, until they brushed along her collarbone. Her breath hitched in her throat and her lips parted ever so slightly–

“Hey!”

Time snapped back to full speed as they broke apart. The stormtroopers had reached them and one was pointing a blaster at Kanan’s chest. Well, it would be more accurate to say both of them, as there wasn’t much space in it.

Kanan was breathing again, even more heavily than before, and he knew exactly how he looked with his tousled hair and the startled, almost guilty expression on his face. What he'd intended as a charade had become all too real as his mind was still reeling from the kiss.

“Oh, uh, sorry–” the trooper faltered and pointed the weapon down. “This area’s off-limits to guests.”

Kanan simply stared at him blankly. Of course it’s off-limits, that’s why we’re here.

“There’s been a security breach,” the trooper tried again, “you need to go back to the main ballroom, sir. Ma'am.” He nodded at Hera while managing to not look directly at her; Kanan got the impression that if his helmet had been off, they would have seen his face steadily turning red.

“A security breach?” Hera repeated in a breathy, Ryl-accented voice. Smart; the confident woman she’d been at the door had helped them to get in, but now they needed to be unassuming and easily dismissable.

Kanan sighed. “Just as I was starting to enjoy this event,” he muttered, loud enough for the trooper to hear.

“We need to secure the area. Please move along.” The trooper gestured towards the stairs, but he was already moving to walk past them and his companion was a few more steps ahead.

Kanan stepped out of the alcove but kept one arm around Hera’s shoulders, keeping her close and allowing the hand that held her blaster to remain concealed under his jacket.

“I hope nothing has been stolen,” Hera said worriedly, still with the accent, as they began descending the staircase. “Our host was telling me earlier, he has quite the collection of old Clone Wars relics here. Very valuable to thieves.”

“Probably what the breach is,” Kanan said confidently. “I’m sure they’ll catch the thief.”

They reached the foot of the stairs and he glanced back over his shoulder; the troopers were out of sight. They’d done it. Around the next corner the archway that led back to the ballroom became visible, the music growing louder with every step. Hera made no move to withdraw her arm and stow her blaster.

“That was a nice bit of quick thinking,” she said, back to her normal voice though she kept it carefully neutral.

Kanan couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more time to warn you. Or, y’know. Ask.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stopped to let him pull the curtain aside, the noise of the music and the guests reaching full volume and washing over them as they re-entered the party. “It worked, and now we’re back to being just two more guests.”

“We’re not out yet,” he reminded her. “C’mon, our best shot is probably right out the front door.”

They weaved through the crowd, Kanan still with an arm around Hera’s shoulder as they made their way slowly back across the ballroom. It almost felt strange that the party had changed so little in their absence, but they couldn’t have been gone longer than half an hour. The band were still playing, the dancefloor was still in full motion, and people still clustered around the edges engaged in conversations.

They reached the curtained archway to the atrium feeling much like they had during that first circuit of the room when they’d arrived. No-one gave them a second glance, too engrossed in their own affairs to spare a thought for two people they didn’t recognise. In a place like this, that meant you were unimportant, which suited Kanan and Hera just fine.

A few scattered guests were lingering around the pool as they ducked around the curtain into the atrium. One of two wafted folding fans at themselves, trying to cool off after dancing. Kanan and Hera were completely ignored as they walked past. The open doors loomed ever closer, along with the freedom that lay beyond.

They were just passing the doorman when his stormtrooper bouncer spoke.

“They’ve accessed the surveillance footage from the halls – the intruders are disguised as guests," he said, his voice tinny through the helmet's comm. "One human and a tail-head. No-one can leave until they’ve been found.”

“Uh oh,” Kanan said softly. The exit was mere steps away.

“Hey, you!” the doorman called over to them. “Stop there!”

Kanan swore.

“Run!” Hera shouted.

They took off as one, tearing down the steps to the street beyond. Blaster bolts hit the hedges as they reached the end of the path and rounded the gateposts, breaking into a sprint. Or, at least, Kanan did; Hera cried out from behind him. He skidded to a halt

“These kriffing heels – I’ve twisted my ankle!” She was still trying to hobble forwards, though at nowhere near the pace she could normally manage.

Behind her, stormtroopers were starting to pour out of the mansion.

“Okay, new plan!”

There was no time for anything clever. Before Hera could protest, he scooped her into his arms and started running again.

To her credit, Hera adapted to her new situation immediately. She still held her blaster in one hand, and as he carried her away she took aim over his shoulder. She wouldn’t be able to hit anything with any accuracy like this, but he knew exactly what she was doing; her shots sent the stormtroopers scattering for cover, allowing him to increase their lead on them.

He darted into an alley. Adrenaline was allowing him to run with Hera in his arms, but it would only last so long before his muscles would register their strain. Now, with no-one watching, was the perfect time to execute part two of this improvised escape.

The Force had been waiting all evening, hovering just next to his awareness, and now he finally drew on it. Kanan leapt, higher than he would have even unladen. He landed on the flat, permacrete roof, and with the Force flowing through his body he was running again.

With no more targets to shoot, Hera's arms encircled his neck, holding on for dear life. Kanan raced over the rooftops, leaping from one to the next over the oblivious pedestrians on the streets below. He’d already oriented himself and was heading to the spaceport. One of the perks of travelling like this was that he could do so in a perfectly straight line. Even if the Imperials tried to shut down the port they’d have to take the long way around to get there.

The scream of a twin-ion engine gave him warning, and he dropped back down to another abandoned alley a few streets over from the spaceport’s entrance. The TIE swooped overhead, searchlights coming on as it entered the zone the Imperials calculated they would still be inside of. Kanan smirked triumphantly.

“Well, that’s one way to save on the taxi fare,” Hera said as he set her carefully back on her feet. He didn’t quite let go of her, aware that she was putting most of her weight on only one leg.

He huffed out a laugh between panting breaths. “Don’t start counting on rides for supply runs.”

She grinned at him. “Of course not, you have a terrible luggage allowance.” She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

He pretended to look affronted. “Well, if you want your spacious cargo hold back I suggest we get moving.”

Her eyes lingered on his face a few seconds longer, her smile softening with a fondness that echoed in his chest. Then her expression turned serious as she looked towards her injured ankle and took a tentative step onto it. She let out a hiss of pain, but managed to limp to the other side of the alley.

“It’s not too bad,” she said, seeming to find it easier on the way back. Then she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Kanan asked, confused.

“The whole op was actually not too bad.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

“Sure, we were seen, but they didn’t get our faces," – she gestured to her eyeshadow – "neither of us got shot, and we got what we came for. By our standards this was almost a perfect run.”

He joined in the laughter. She had a point; for them, it was pretty good.

“It’s just a shame we weren’t able to get any of that food,” she added wistfully.

Kanan felt a flash of guilt, even though it wasn't his fault. He'd said he would bring her something to eat, but then they'd been distracted by the appearance of their target. He remembered their pursuit of the mikkian, how Hera had immediately been focused on their mission as she'd led him off the dancefloor.

“Actually…”

Kanan reached into his pocket for the item he’d swiped earlier that evening. They'd passed right by the buffet tables on the way to the curtained archway and until that moment he'd forgotten he had in fact kept his word to Hera.

He presented the meiloorun to her with a proud smile.

She gaped at him for a moment, staring between his face and the fruit in his hand. Then, her surprise softened to something he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't just gratitude; there was a warmth to it, an aching fondness in her eyes. She took a step forward, grabbed him by the lapel–

And kissed him.

For a second he was frozen with shock, one hand holding the meiloorun and the other hanging by his side. Then his mind caught up with what was happening, his arms slid around Hera, and he kissed her back.

It was the same as their kiss earlier, and yet it was also different. It was still Hera, her presence filling every one of his senses, but this time there was nothing held back. Her mouth parted easily against his, her tongue gently tracing his lower lip. His free hand caressed the bare skin of her back, his fingers softly stroking up her spine. She shivered against him.

When she pulled back an inch to breathe, he felt like he was floating.

“Definitely a perfect run,” she corrected herself in a whisper.

He gazed into her shining eyes with awe. It’s always perfect with you, he wanted to say. You’re amazing, you look beautiful tonight, I would do anything for you.

Instead, he kissed her again. Her lips were soft and eager against his.

She already knew.