#so like. if she can mess with electronics... surely she can make herself heard through a robot right?

[cybervesna]

One hundred-four degrees Fahrenheit

Type: One-shot (Dogtown Nights) Rating: Mature Relationship: Kurt Hansen/OC, Kurt Hansen/Wiosna Blazkowicz

Idk if someone's gonna read it, if so I hope you enjoy it.

Heavy smoke from his cigarette covered his view as he exhaled the substance from his lungs. Despite temporary blindness, his eyes were still focused on one place or rather a person. 

Right in front of him lies the object of his interest. Wires all over, allowing her to get lost in the depths of cyberspace. The netrunner most likely had no idea that she was being watched. Her boss was like an eagle preying on her defenseless body. 

But he doesn't want to hurt her, no. He's admiring and mesmerizing every inch of her. He's making sure that the movement of her cleavage caused by heavy breathing isn't out of order, and that the drops of sweat forming on her forehead evaporate as soon as they appear. 

He inhaled the deadly substance again and kept it in his lungs as he checked her vitals on his HUD. 

One hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. 

It wasn't alarming, yet a little too high for his liking. Two degrees more and an emergency cooling will freeze her. 

This time the smoke escaped through his nostrils, making him look like a dragon whose fire was responsible for the increased body temperature of his prey.

One hundred degrees Fahrenheit. 

Good, he thought. She either moved to lighter tasks or is about to dive out from the cybernetic void.

He observed her, carefully. The steady breathing was like a lullaby to his nerves. Calming, and reassuring nothing will happen, and he's just paranoid for having all the bad scenarios forming in his head.

One hundred four degrees Fahrenheit. 

***

It's hard to describe something that the human mind can't comprehend. Yet, somehow Wiosna could see everything in a simplified way, trying to make sense of the data around her. 

First was the darkness, and from it came light. No. The light was her. Or maybe she was the darkness? 

Lines of code disintegrated with every passing second, yet can she even measure time in such a place? And why is she staring right at herself? There are no mirrors in cyberspace. 

“Interesting. Emotions truly can be transferred into data.” 

She heard her own voice, but it wasn't her who said it. 

“You should vocalize your concerns.” Wiosna’s reflection insisted. 

“You already know what I'm going to say.” 

The vision fractionated into a glitchy matrix of data as it transformed itself into a red mist filling the void around the woman. There was something familiar about it, like an image she had seen before. The red mixed itself with the darkness in a way that resembled the northern lights. 

The entity inside her becomes stronger with every jump beyond the Blackwall. Grows like a parasite inside Wiosna's inner world. If it can take her form now, what else is it capable of doing? 

Being a menace to her for sure.

Wiosna felt how the rogue AI manipulated her code to cause some chaos. Nothing serious, just a few short circuits, and an overheat deamon. In Wiosna's opinion, it was meant to piss her off, rather than cause actual damage.

That's enough. Was the last thing echoing around them before the netrunner went back to the mortal realm. 

***

“Wiosna, for fucks sake, wake up!” Kurt screamed into Wiosna's face as he shook her shoulders. 

All the systems around them turned into an orchestra of alarms, loud enough that he didn't know if she could even hear him in this mess despite being inches away. 

Kurt held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. The drops of water on her face turned into frost because of emergency cooling. He knew that the purple shade of her skin was a result of preventing her from overheating, as most of the electronics in the room burned one by one. Regardless of all the logic, it planted in his head a scary question. 

What if she's already dead? Does life have any meaning without her?

He knows better than that. He's a soldier. There's no time for grieving in his life. 

Put yourself together, Hansen! 

Allowing himself to panic, even for a minute was unacceptable. But those intrusive thoughts were louder and louder in his head, as the mind tried to make a plan for every possible outcome of this situation.

Is that how Wiosna feels all the time?

Kurt remembered how Wiosna tried to describe to him what was in her head. Of course, he read all the reports on her state, but doing it in her own words felt more intimate. He wished she would describe him more. 

She has to, when she wakes up, right? 

His hands cupped her face and he took a moment to look at her once more. The only thing in the world that he cares more about than himself. She can't be dead. Kurt gently kissed her forehead and felt how his warm lips melted the frost it touched. 

“Hm... That made me warm inside.” 

He wasn't sure if he heard it, or if it was just his imagination. Kurt moved his head to look at Wiosna again. Her blue eyes were wide open, staring at him with sparkles between the ocean of blue. And of course a smirk on her face.

This fucking woman…

“I see you missed m-” 

But Wiosna never finished whatever she wanted to say, as Kurt's lips silenced her. At least for a second until she pulled him away. 

“Fuu! You just smoked!” She screamed in disgust. 

“You almost fucking died!” 

“What? I had everything under control.” 

Kurt dropped her face as relief on his face disappeared. 

“Control? Where? Where was your fucking control when your body hit one hundred six degrees!” 

“Please, like it's the first time…” Wiosna waved her hand as if she was casting a spell that silenced all the alarms.

Kurt observed as she sat on her chair and pulled out the plug from her deep dive port. He felt anger build up inside of him, yet at the same time, he couldn't be angry at her. 

“Do I mommy you whenever you go out for a mission? You think I don't worry you will get a bullet to the head? I do, but I'm not stopping you from doing your job. So don't stop me from doing mine.” 

“This is different.” He growled. 

“How so?” 

“I can't fucking protect you there.” Kurt's voice became deeper. Every other Bargest soldier would start praying for their life at the sound of it.

But Wiosna instead just rolled her eyes at him. “So you don't trust me that I can take care of myself?” 

“The fuck? I didn't say that!” Kurt touched the bridge of his nose as he thought about how to explain what he meant. The Colonel reached for the hand of his lover. It was still cold, as if she spent this whole time walking through Siberian snow without gloves. “I guess, I meant that three minutes ago I was freaking out, you're dead and all I could do was just hold your body. So I started to consider if I should kill myself too… It felt like I failed you.” 

Kurt hated that. Those moments of weakness when emotions take over logic. He hated how it only happened with her. Wiosna made him soft. She made him weak. And yet… He never felt better. Never felt stronger than with her by his side. 

He stared into her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the emotions behind them. But instead of that, he felt as her hand gently left his grasp. His eyes instantly looked at the place where it left a freezing sensation on his cyberware that he already missed. But he felt it again, this time on his cheek, as her palm guided Kurt to look at her once more. 

Nothing. Wiosna's emotions were encrypted better than the data she worked with. 

Kurt leaned into her touch, kissing the inside of her palm without breaking eye contact. It's when he noticed something. Wiosna's brows slightly went up, and her lips parted as a result of his action. And before he could do anything more, her cold lips were glued to his. 

Wiosna always kissed him as her life depended on it. Kurt learned by now, that maybe the face doesn't show much, but her kisses are a testimony of everything she feels. A language of passion, that she calls “talking without words”. He had to admit, as many lovers as he had, no one saw it that way. But he gets it. Wiosna's kisses are to die for. 

Even now freezing as she is, Wiosna spreads her fire on Kurt, burning everything on its way. And he doesn't want to fight it. Like flames dancing around each other, consuming everything on their way until there's no air. 

“You just complained I smoked!” Kurt gasped in between his heavy breaths. 

“Don't fucking remind me and enjoy this.” 

[jacksdinonuggets]

Why Won't You Let The Burden I Am, Starve?

Summary: Charlie tries to help out with Blake's eating disorder but ends up making him purge instead. he regresses afterward aswell.

Tw: Eating disorders, sh mentions, vomitting

Blake sat at the mess hall in the hotel. He was scrolling through his phone, looking at his “inspo”. He basically just made multiple collages of photos and affirmations to help him lose weight. Charlie didn’t know he had this. If she found out he made them almost every day, she’d probably take away his electronic privileges. Today he had nursery school too. He just hoped his stomach would stay quiet during it.

Charlie watched her little from the other side of the mess hall. She hoped he would eventually give up and go grab a plate but she was wrong. She was talking with some of her littles and their caregivers but excused herself so she could walk over to Blake.

“Hey, sweetie, how’d you sleep?” She sat down next to him. He quickly shut off and hid his phone when she sat down. It got her suspicious but she didn’t think to question it too much. She didn’t want to seem like a helicopter caregiver.

“I slept well. I just, uh, finished my breakfast early,” He nervously laughed. Charlie knew he was lying, never once seeing him get food. She knew he didn’t want to seem like a burden to her, no matter how many times she’s told him he’s not. It was just upsetting that he barely accepted any help.

“Come on, lets grab you a plate,” She stood up and gestured for him to follow. Trying to be a good little, he followed.

“You want eggs? Or my dad’s famous pancakes?” She asked. He fidgeted with his fingers. He tried to think about which one would be easier to throw up later. 

“Uh, Eggs, please,” He replied.

Charlie put a small amount of eggs on his plate.

“Do you want bacon?” He shook his head. Bacon was mostly fat!

“How about a biscuit?” She asked. He sighed but nodded.

They sat back down at the table. Blake picked up his fork and stared at the food in front of him. Charlie noticed him struggling to stab the eggs.

“You can do it, sweetheart,” She encouraged. He didn’t want to disappoint so he picked up a piece of the egg and put it into his mouth, chewing on it, before swallowing. It was actually really good and he wanted more. His cravings got the best of him and he finished his whole plate.

“Great job, buddy! I’m so proud of you,” She petted the back of his head. It was comforting and he did feel proud!

However, that proud feeling ended soon. When he attended nursery school, He was too busy focusing on how much better everyone looked rather than focusing on playing. Then, he felt that awful full feeling. He could feel the food in his stomach. He hated it. It was causing him distress. He really wanted to purge, cut, anything! Anything to make this feeling stop. Regressing wasn’t working for him right now!

“Ma- Chawlie?” He wanted to avoid using the ‘Mama’ caregiver name because he didn’t want to make others feel bad.

“Yes, Blake?” Charlie focused her attention on him.

“Can i use the potty?” He asked.

That was strange. Blake never went to the bathroom. He usually used his diaper. Maybe he had to use the other kind of bathroom use.

“Uh, sure, sweetie, you can go,” She gestured to the bathroom inside the room. He got up and walked in, locking the door. Finally, he could purge.

He stuck his fingers into his throat while leaning over the toilet and threw up his breakfast. It didn’t all come out in one vomiting. He had to do it again and again. Unfortunately, his fingernails had tickled the back of his throat. He tried to fight the urge to cough but he was too late. He fell into a coughing fit before loudly retching. The coughing made him throw up in a way he couldn’t control his volume.

Once Charlie heard this, she immediately jumped out of her chair. She should’ve known he was gonna do this!

“Blake, Baby, I’m coming in,” She warned before barging inside of the bathroom. 

“M sorry, mama, M sowry!” He cried when he had been caught. He didn’t want to be beaten with a glass beer bottle again. He knew what he was doing was bad. And if you’re bad, you get punished. 

“Sh, sh, it’s okay, I’m not mad, sweetheart,” Charlie slowly made her way towards him, to not scare him.

He cried apologizes and pleads for mercy. Charlie could tell it was a trauma response and tried to comfort him the best she could. She sat on the floor with him and rubbed the back of his head. She held the clean hand that hadn’t been in his mouth and squeezed it.

After a while, he seemed to have calmed down, realizing that Charlie was not going to hurt him.

“Wh-why aren’t you huwting me?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Because you shouldn’t be punished for this. Sure, I wish you would’ve told me you wanted to purge, but I’m not gonna punish you if you don’t,” Charlie explained. His lip quivered and his eyes were glossy. No parental figure was ever this kind to him. He didn’t feel like he deserved it. It was overwhelming that all he could do was cry into her chest.

“Sh, sh, you’re alright sweetie,” Charlie rubbed his back and kissed his forehead. 

He slipped younger and younger until he eventually stopped crying, too young to fully understand why he was crying. Charlie had her phone in one hand and was texting Lucifer to see if he could take over for the next couple of hours, as she would need some one-on-one little time with Blake.

“Lets get you cleaned up, okay?” She said, putting her phone away. She tried to help him stand on his own but him feeling about the age of a newborn, it was kind of hard. So she leaned him up against the sink and helped him wash his hands after flushing the toilet.

Charlie walked out of the bathroom, holding Blake close to her chest. Lucifer was already there, putting on a magic show for the kiddos. She carried Blake all the way to his room. Once they were there, Charlie summoned a bottle filled with water for him. He was bound to be dehydrated after throwing up. Blake sat in her lap on the bed and snuggled up against her chest while she bottle fed him. It felt nice and relaxing to just get some one-on-one caregiver and little time. She was always so busy and he felt like a burden just by asking.

Once the bottle was empty, she put it on his nightstand to refill later. Putting his pacifier back in, she tried to move him off of her lap but her just clung to her, not wanting her to leave.

“I’m gonna get Spikey for you, sweetheart,” She tried to explain. But he just wasn’t having it.

“NuAaaGh!” He whined. 

Charlie sighed and picked him up. She went over to his toy hammock and lifted him up so he could pick Spikey, the Raptor, off. When he got his favorite plushy, he gave it a snuggle. It was his first ever plushy from Little Town in hell.

“You like your raptor, Blakey?” Charlie asked, lowering him so he’s against her chest again. 

“Mhm, mhm!” He nodded happily. If he was feeling a little bit bigger, he would be telling her all the raptor facts he could but he was a little too tiny to talk at the moment. 

Blake had regressed for the whole day. Charlie didn’t want to keep him inside, so she got out the stroller and they went for a walk. He made happy noises when they walked past a few flaming ducks. It was adorable how happy he was. And of course, Spikey came along with them. 

They stopped by the bathroom of the park so she could change Blakes diaper. Since they were in Little town, every bathroom had sized up changing tables so it was very easy to change him. She felt a little guilty leaving him in a wet diaper all morning but hoped that he would forgive her. He had a bit of a problem when asking for changes, so Charlie would have to check, which is why he almost never wears pants.

Once he was in a fresh diaper, she buttoned his snap-crotch onesie and they washed their hands. She wanted to make sure he was being at least a bit sanitary. 

They arrived back to the hotel shortly after Blake had woken up from his stroller nap. Charlie put on the tv so he could watch some cartoons and baby shows so she could get a little break to be on her hellphone.

Blake had regressed from the morning to the end of the night. The day was filled with ups and downs. Although it was a bit bad in the beginning, it doesn’t mean that it was fully a bad day.

[nczaversnick]

Writing Share Tag

thanks to @sableglass for the tag :)8 and also @honeybewrites for Iris

Chapter 17: date [Cas POV]

Caspian approaches Iris’ workshop where she had removed her leg and had it on a table, and is messing with the circuits inside with a welding-looking instrument. He freezes in the doorway, a little thrown off seeing where her flesh ends in a stump and the rest of her on the table.

Iris is intuitive and pipes up, “Can I help you?”

Cas: Oh, uh, I was just here because of the schedule.

Iris peers up at the clock, “punctual. I like that.” She motions for him to step inside to which he does and he sits in a chair, kind of trying not to stare at her dismembered leg on the table.

Iris: My teachings aren’t very conventional. I don’t fight you physically and there’s nothing medically I can show you.

Cas: Ah, then we’ll just-

Iris: Talk.

Cas: Right, um.

Iris: You can ask about the leg.

Cas: I wasn’t going to, I swear.

Iris: It’s alright, it was many years ago. Physical and emotional wounds have healed.

Cas: Right.. [he still feels uneasy just asking her straight away, but he eventually relents and asks]

[Iris goes into detail about how she was in the military with Adrian, a landmine goes off and hits her, leaving her badly injured. The commanding officer knew she was a deviant and essentially left her for dead where Adrian then took her to Aurelia and had her patched up. Iris has a good eye for electronics and prosthetics, plus Aurelias knowledge of anatomy so she was able to create the limbs for herself.]

Iris: It certainly wasn’t easy adjusting. You go about your whole life thinking that there’s something wrong with you. You’re brainwashed into thinking that the only way to make up for your existence is to do what you’re told. Stay on the low. Just survive.

Cas knows this all too well as he recalls the many days he’s been going through the motions with his own life before he joined the group. Going to school, getting harassed by almost everyone for being something he couldn’t control in the first place. He feels his shoulders get heavier with guilt at how badly he treated this group and how close-minded he was being towards them.

Cas: I’m sorry.

Iris: Don’t be. We were too busy trying to stay alive, we forgot how to live.

Cas lets the air settle for a bit after the dark truth comes out.

Cas: Do you really think Adrian is right in all this?

Iris: It definitely depends on your perspective. You’ve seen how it’s like from both sides with the accident at your hospital.

Caspian frowns at this.

Iris: My job isn’t to dissuade or influence you. I’m only here to provide information to make your transition in life easier.

Cas: My transition as a Deivant?

Iris nods.

Cas: So what is all of this? The warehouse, all those people that are out there?

Iris: We are a group [explain the group’s purpose, it’s mission]

Cas: How come no one has heard about you?

Iris: Well, how many times in history did a group of rebels who outwardly proclaimed that they were going to overthrow the government actually succeed?

Cas: Good point..

Iris: It’s a slow process, but we’ve already helped so many people. It’s only a matter of time before the tide will shift to our advantage.

Caspian nods, feeling a little bit more hopeful.

Cas: How is Adrian keeping all of this under wraps?

Iris: Well, I can’t go into specifics, but Adrian is a powerful man. He has influences and connections that no one else has, or knows about. We use that to our advantage to keep our forces healthy and prospering.

Cas: What rank are you?

Iris: When I was still in the military, I was a Corporeal.

Cas: What could you do as a Corporeal?

Iris: Not very much than you and everyone who graduated high school as a Private. I did oversee my own group of Privates and made sure they stayed in line, but other than that, my knowledge about what was actually going on in the military was limited.

Cas: What is Adrian?

Iris: A Colonel.

Cas: A Colonel?! He has to be able to do a whole bunch of things then!

Iris: Things that are classified to you and me.

Cas: You??

Iris: Yes, even me.

Cas’ mind was swimming as he came up with more questions and Iris gladly answered them.

you can read the chapters finished so far here:

Tags [comment to be +\-]

@honeybewrites @wyked-ao3 @kittrrrr @zackprincebooks @theverumproject @the-golden-comet @fractured-shield @poppycat-writes @illarian-rambling @finickyfelix @kuebiko-writing @yourpenpaldee @willtheweaver @the-letterbox-archives @moltenwrites @davycoquette @drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @sableglass @kaeru483 +open tag

[inexplicably-spookified]

how the heck did misery end up dead in that au? (and can curly smooch a ghost...?)

in true misery fashion it's a spectacular backfire whilst trying to do something stupid

after miakid's death, she was so frustrated at (gestures vaguely) everything that had happened because of the crown as well as miakid's failure to attack the surface that she attempted to destroy the crown herself, unleashing her magic in a way similar to ballos, just on purpose.

it both worked and didn't - misery's body was destroyed, the crown was shattered to a couple pieces and currently can't reform without outside intervention, leaving the curse technically still intact, which means her 'ghost' is still stuck, albeit in a kind of stasis till a certain medical professional entered the tower a decade later and inadvertently woke her up.

at first nobody, not even the aforementioned medical professional can see or hear her, which frustrates her to no end lmao, though she figures out ways to affect the world around her and eventually make herself, uh, known

(and yes, definitely, absolutely)

[starsfic]

Idea 1: Vanessa quits her job

This idea is based on my interpretation that the Vanessa we see in Security Breach isn't really her; it's Vanny controlling her. Vanessa's consciousness is there, but all that she can do is just watch, like viewing your own life through an old television.

So after the 3-star ending, Vanessa would be left with a job that requires skills that "she" technically never had. She can't just pull up Vannys memories (which i have her being able to do because extra pain :D) because there are no memories of how to do that job, a final "f*ck you :D" to Vanessa from Vanny before she left.

(I feel this needs a bit more of an explanation. Vanny had an instinctive knowledge of how to use any electronic device, courtesy of Glitchtrap/Afton. This meant that she never had to read any instructions for any of the surveilance equipment that she used on the job. She also never looked down at keyboards when she typed the passwords needed to access the security computers sinceVanny had all the passwords to herself. All this means is that when Vanessa looks back at these memories, they are effectively useless.)

So now all Vanessa has left are her own memories of watching herself push random buttons that do random things. It would be like trying to learn how to fly a plane solely by watching someone else do it.

Vanessa also realizes that she'd have to still assist lost children after hours, a thought that truly scares her. It's not because she doesn't like children, no. In fact, I believe Vanessa used to work really well with children due to her former position as a video game tester/coder. This might not make much sense, but is elaborated upon in idea 2.

It is also stated in the game in one of the logs that you can find that she was not recommended for a position as a security guard, so it just makes sense for her to leave afer being freed.

So she would put in her 2 weeks notice, but not before working out some special deal with the plex that allows her and Greg the gremlin of chaos to visit the pizzaplex whenever they want and for any length of time.

As for what job she would try to go back to? It would be her old job of beta testing and coding. She was evidently very good at it based on those cut AR emails. It might sound like tempting fate, but I think that Vanessa would be a heck of a lot more careful this time if she was put back on the VR project. That assumes that the project is still even active.

That way she can make sure that what happened to her, never happens to anyone again.

It was barely an hour after the email sent that Vanessa got a call.

She groaned as she answered. She knew the mess that the Pizzaplex had been left in. Her resignation right now looked like she was covering her ass and not like she had no idea what to do.

Which she didn’t. She answered the call.

“Hello, Vanessa A-”

“What the fuck Vanessa?!” 

Oh boy. “Hi, Jack,” Vanessa leaned back, rubbing her brow and very glad Gregory was taking a shower and didn’t have to hear the swear. The only upside of Vanny had been the fact that she didn’t have to talk to her brother, even if he was actually in the country. “How are you?”

“How…how do you think?!” Jack sounded furious. “I just got word that the Pizzaplex is a mess and then you resigned and-” He let out a girly shriek of rage that Vanessa couldn’t help but chuckle at. A noise of concern made her glance back. Glamrock Freddy’s head stared at her with big blue eyes filled with concern. She gave him a thumbs up and then pressed her finger to her lips in a silent shushing motion. He grinned as she turned her attention back to Jack’s rant. “What are you even going to do?!”

“You do know I had a job before the Pizzaplex, right?” Vanessa pulled up the last email she got from her manager. It was an open door. Hopefully, that door was still open. “And if that doesn’t work out I can always do something else. Lots of companies need coding.”

“But you can’t-” Jack groaned before she heard him sigh. “Please, just stay on. I need you.”

Yep, he needed her to make sure Fazbear didn’t go belly up. But, it would be better if it did.

Vanessa sighed. “It’s too late. I’ll do my last two weeks and then I’ll be done.” She set down the bait. “Long enough to clean up the animatronics.”

“The- oh!” Hook. “If you can’t stay as a night guard, can I at least keep you as a part-time coder?” Sinker. Vanessa stayed silent and let him dig. “You can come in whatever night you want! All-access! Please, I need you-”

Line.

“Alright.”

[liquid-luck-00]

Where There Is Change

Last Name Wayne

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous *** Next

Okay so I know I diverged from cannon, but I think you’ll all like this.

~~~~~~~~~~

The moment that Damian agreed, they left.

She immediately placed their phones and electronics into storage, so this game would be a little more fun.

Mari "chose" the first place that they teleported to was Paris. The irony was not lost on her.

The place that kicked her out was the first place that would open up to her. But then again most of the city adored Marinette they loved Lady Scarlet even more, but that wasn't general knowledge.

She and Damian know it is a matter of time before B figures they left the country, but hey. They mostly stuck to going between super cities in the U.S. before. But right now, it mostly was her showing him around the city the museums and then getting really inspired by the scenery.

If she was prepared with several different sketch books and pencils for both of them it was an added bonus.

She knows she subconsciously picked Paris and after a few hours it might be smart to jump again. So, she let Damian decide on a place where he wanted to go. He did warn her that if they were spotted, they need to leave immediately, but she didn’t really see a problem with it.

Because granted they’re both Wayne's, and Wayne's if you know them well enough, they will be able to hand your ass back to you on a silver platter smiling as if it was the greatest thing in the world.

So, they jumped again.

This time it was her turn to be awed by what they saw.

They were in a small alcove completely hidden; in the cave they were in the face of it was covered by bushes. But looking out she saw the mountains in the far distance it appeared to be a lake no it was larger maybe it was the ocean. Right below her was a lush courtyard filled with plant she's only seen and one other place, but the heat here was tremendous, and the sea that she could see was in the wrong direction. Apart from being far, far, far too close to where she originally thought they were.

She was going to lean forward a bit and completely break through the bushes that were covering them when a hand pulled her back. She looks back and sees her little brother holding onto her.

"We have to stay hidden Nettie, are above the League of Assassins." He whispered so quiet she could barely hear him about ten inches away, so she’s not taking this lightly.

She nodded, and they stayed there, silent. The only sound was of graphite on paper.

Then everything changed.

On instinct Marinette shot out her arm, a wooden imperial yo-yo appeared in her hand, with a quick flick of her wrist she stopped the projectile, lodging it within the wood. A quick glance at her brother and she opened up portal behind him and pushed him through without a word, closing it behind him.

She knows that it’s more dangerous if they find him here than her, so she stayed behind.

She removed the projectile and examined it, a blow dart likely with poison, seeing as a liquid was seeping into the wood of the yo-yo. She created a replica of the dart and stored the poisonous one and her yo-yo back in storage.

She took a quick breath and punctured her arm where the dart should have originally landed. And fell to the ground, slumped down.

She kept her face relaxed her body limp and she felt three, four, five separate sickly deathly auras around her. She kept her breathing at minimum, light, almost as if she was asleep. They picked her up and moved her. She realized immediately that she was being taken down the mountain, taken deeper into the League of Assassins.

Five assassins she can take them. But the one thing repeatedly crossing her mind was one phrase.

'How dare these assholes mess with her family! Her little brother! They are going to pay!'

Because she is a Wayne, and Wayne’s protect their own.

She was eventually dropped in a large room, from what she can tell, if the echoes were any indication to what she was thinking the size of the room could be. There were three more auras in this room, aside from the ones she passed to get here. What surprised her was she recognized all three.

Still acting unconscious, she heard a woman’s voice, Talia Al Ghul, speak. "What business do you have to bring this child here?" It was phrased as a question but seemed more like a snarl or demand than anything else.

"She was captured on the grounds. She’s an unknown." Was what was reported by one of the people in who had dragged her down here.

Then she heard a chuckle.

"She’s awake." That voice, she recognizes that voice. Her entire previous plan was now completely out the window. So, she lazily pushes herself up, pulling out the dart once she was on her feet.

"Damn, I thought that would last a little longer." She finally looked up and saw Damian's clone, Heretic, Talia, and Al Ghul. But something was wrong, it was bothering her. Al Ghul, he, he… he wasn’t Demon, he wasn’t her Demon anymore. All she recognized now is his voice, at least that’s what she told herself, nothing else was the same as a person she once knew. The question now is why. "I really shouldn’t have introduced you to the Order, if the result would have been this?" A smirk on her lips and now standing cocky in the middle of a room full of assassins, she is stalling. He is acting like he knows her, but his aura is indecipherable, familiar, but not.

"You should not have, but then I wouldn’t be here today, to thank you, would I? After all you allowed our family to find these pits." ‘Our Family’ she dove into her memories, but now that she needed them, they were far away and fuzzy, God damn it.

"Hmmm, I suppose not. Right now, I really wish I had turned you into a cat permanently. I found the correct spell, so I actually can now." This elicited yet another chuckle from Al Ghul which had everyone else in the room on edge.

"Really now I love to see it, after all I wasn’t able to experience it before you vanished." She quirked an eyebrow at this response, but she didn’t care about his mind games, she was stalling, trying to find out what caused this change. All her mind supplied were the plants outside. Demon wasn’t good with plants, but he was with animals, so how.

"Really you don’t wanna know why am actually here?" She asked, looking so innocent, one might believe that she was there merely an accident or coincidence.

She then turned towards Heretic, death in her blue eyes was all anyone could see, but she didn’t kill him. No, she couldn't bring herself to kill him. He may have killed her baby brother, but he is

Damian’s clone, but that clone was nothing but a poor imitation of her brother. With a snap of her fingers, he transformed into a statue of a panther, mouth opening for a roar. In all accounts looking intimidating, but there’s no way to be scared of a statue.

"That was for killing my little brother." She crossed her arms now glaring daggers towards Talia.

"I wasn’t aware you had a little brother, Lady Cheng." Demon never called her Lady Cheng, no to him she was Malak (Angel), but…

That was when the pieces fell into place. That’s why the older Damian looks like a cross between Demon and Bruce. That’s why Damian turned into a panther cub. Damian is Amir’s reincarnation, the true soul of the black cat. That means, in front of her stood Ra’s, Amir’s older twin brother. That’s why he could read the journal, he is a miraculous soul. And only miraculous souls know the language of miracles, without decades of studying the script. It’s ingrained in them but only accessible after coming in contact with old magic, miraculous magic.

"One, the name is Wayne. Two that’s because at the time that I met the both of you 600 years ago, I didn’t even know I had siblings. So, get this through your head, I don’t care that he is your son or your grandson. He is my little brother. Nothing will stop me from making sure my family is safe." Her voice stayed level, emotion flitted in and out of it, in such a way that it almost seemed inhuman. For more reasons than one, she just sensed one of the Lazarus Pits.

"Scarlet." She heard gasped by the woman next to Ra’s.

"Correct." She glared at them walking closer as she said so. "My name is Marinette Wayne, and you best remember to never mess with creation. I would have thought you would remember that little Lǎohǔ (Tiger)."

By her walk over a sword had appeared in each hand, which she was now holding up to Lǎohǔ‘s neck, while the second was held right at the base of Talia's spine, almost daring her to move. The threat hung in the air, and both knew she was capable of following through.

"Well, I do believe it’s best to catch up over some tea." Lǎohǔ offered, many would have taken his offer. Because if the Demon’s head offers it, it would be your funeral if you refused, but she wasn’t just anyone. "After all we haven’t seen each other, in nearly 600 years, now have we, much must’ve happened to you."

"Hmmm... not really you’d be surprised. By what has become of my life been since meeting you." She decided to put away her blades, for the time being. Seeing as she couldn’t leave without destroying the Pits. The only surviving consequence of the Miraculous wish, cast ages ago. Now time to come up with a plan.

---

"Are you sure about this Pigtails?" Plagg spoke up.

"Ancient magic like this calls for a price." She sighed.

"We know, Marinette, but your little brother." Tikki voiced.

"I'll do everything I can to keep all of them safe." She spoke resolutely.

"But can you live with this?" Tikki asked.

"I have to be able to. Besides I'm pretty sure he is your true kitten, Plagg." She reassured.

Tikki and Plagg united their powers, and were able to destroy the pit, and every other one on Earth. Then disappeared. She opened a gate knowing what is coming.

---

Somewhere in the league of Assassins was the Demon's head and his daughter, looking royally pissed as they watch a timer tick down. Seeing as Marinette decided to freeze them with venom, so she could destroy the Lazarus Pits.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[lunar-wandering]

reverse reverse

so, i wrote a one shot for my Uno Reverse Card Swap AU- and i’ve decided to put all my oneshots and drabbles for it in one fic on ao3.

...anyways though, boom, heres the fic, bon appetit-

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on Ao3

-

MK tossed the staff as hard as he could, his frustration at his lack of progress seeping into the move. Wukong briefly looked shocked for a split moment (a very rare sight to see), before he ducked down, letting the staff sail over him.

Having missed it's initial target, the staff crashed into the electric panel on the wall, loud enough to grab Mei and Red Son's attention, from where they had been training on their side of the room.

"....Uh." Red Son said, watching how the electric panel sparked and hissed. "That's probably not good."

And then the training room doors slammed closed.

"Ah. That's very not good." The fire demon holstered the water gun he'd been using, walking over to inspect the damage.

"I'm sorry!" MK said, running over and pulling the staff out of the electric panel. Surprisingly enough, he didn't get shocked, instinctively twirling the staff in a circle before sliding it into his pocket. "I'm- I'm really sorry, can you fix it??"

"...If we were on the other side, yes." Red Son poked the panel, pulling his hand back just before a stray spark could hit it. "As of right now...I'd say we're pretty much trapped."

"What if somebody needs Dragonmist or Spitfire though?" Mei asked, "We won't be able to help if we're stuck in here."

"..I'm sure Sandy or my parents could do the job just fine..." Red Son mumbled, barely paying any attention to what Mei was saying, as he turned on the electronic band on his arm, a holographic screen appearing in front of his face. "I think I can get the doors to open again if I can reactivate the system....But with all the changes I had to recently make to prevent a certain few hackers from getting in the system again it might take me a while."

That seemed to be all the incentive that Mei needed, and MK watched in confusion as she took a few steps back.

Said confusion changed to comprehension just seconds before Mei took off, running at the door at full speed.

...And slamming into said door, falling backwards and landing hard on her back. The loud clang made MK cover his ears, and startled Red Son out of his focus.

"You- did you just try to break through the door?" Red Son knelt beside Mei, poking her to check if she was still alive (which she was). "The door that I specifically designed to be unbreakable?"

Mei only groaned in response, accepting MK's help in lifting herself back up into a standing position. As MK steadied her, he looked over her shoulder, noticing how...quiet Wukong had been the whole time.

The Monkey King was just standing there, exactly where MK had left him, in fact, it didn't seem like his mentor had moved at all.

MK lightly tugged on both Red Son and Mei's jackets to draw their attention over to Wukong

Just in time for Wukong to let out a scream of frustration, taking the fake circlet off of his head and throwing it at the wall- karma immediately playing it's hand as the circlet bounced off the wall, flinging back to hit Wukong on the nose, before reverting back to being a strand of hair.

"Fuck." Wukong hissed, staring at the hair that now rested on the floor as though it had personally offended him.

"....Monkey King? Are.....you okay?" MK quietly asked, Red Son and Mei also looking at Wukong in concern.

"I'm fucking fine- Leave me alone!" Wukong glared at them, before turning around and sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his tail swishing back and forth in irritation. MK, Red Son, and Mei shared a worried look.

"...I'll get back to trying to unlock the doors?" Red Son said, "Also Mei, please do not try slamming yourself into the door again. It's not going to work, and I really don't know why you thought that was a good idea in the first place."

"I didn't think it was a good idea, I just thought we might as well try it." Mei shrugged, "I did think it might go faster than just you trying to hack your own system though."

MK tuned out the bickering between his two friends as he focused in on Wukong's back. The Monkey King's fur was all....bristly, standing on end, as though he'd been startled. In between that, his little outburst a few moments ago, how his tail was rapidly swishing from side to side, and the fact he was chewing on his thumbnail, well, MK could only conclude one thing.

Wukong was scared.

As for why he was scared, MK had a few guesses. Most of which pertained to mountains and furnaces.

MK wondered if he should give Wukong some of the advice Macaque had given to him during their last therapy session- but almost instantly dismissed the idea. Wukong would definitely pick up on the fact that MK was quoting Macaque, and the Monkey King simply refused to take any advice the shadow monkey handed out.

MK couldn't just walk over to Wukong and try to distract him either. For one, he had no idea how to even start that kind of conversation, not to mention that Wukong didn't look like he wanted to talk to anyone right now. He couldn't tell Wukong that he knew that the Monkey King was scared either, from what he'd manage to garner about Wukong's personality, that would surely just send Wukong down a path of denial and overcomplicate the whole situation.

Which only left one option. Waiting.

Many people didn't know this, because of how quiet and reserved MK tended to be, but he absolutely hated waiting.

"Hey, Red Son?" MK asked, interrupting Mei and Red Son's petty bickering. "...How long exactly will it take you to hack the doors back open?"

"Uh...." Red Son glances at the holographic numbers hovering over his arm. "...I think the shortest amount of time I could do it would by 15 minutes, at most about 2 hours."

Out of the corner of his eye, MK could see Wukong's back tense, and something tells MK that even 15 minutes would be just a bit too long.

...This was all his fault. If he'd been paying more attention, hadn't gotten so frustrated, they wouldn't even be in this mess.

MK pulled the staff out of his pocket, looking at how it lay small and innocent in his hand. He looked back over at Wukong, who was still resolutely facing away from the rest of them.

He took a step towards the control panel.

"...MK." Mei noted his movement. "MK, what are you doing?"

MK doesn't give a response, the staff extending in his hands.

This was his fault. He's going to fix it.

"Wh- hey, MK, you'll get yourself electrocuted you-" Red Son takes notice of MK's actions a moment too late.

MK shoved the staff into the electrical panel, ignoring the way the electricity made his arms go numb and his nerves tingle. He'd been forced to get used to the sensation a long time ago. Focusing as much as he could, he grabbed hold of the warm power that lay within him, channeling it through the staff and into the control panel.

He didn't stop until he heard the whoosh of the doors opening, and was certain that they would stay open.

He pulled the staff out of the control panel, setting it down as he rolled his shoulders, shaking the tingles out of his arms. He registered Mei and Red Son staring at him in concern, but purposefully ignored it.

A breeze went past him, and suddenly Wukong was standing on the outside of the room, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, wearing an obviously fake smile.

"So uh, MK, the next time you fight me-" (Wukong' refused to actively call it training, instead saying that MK was simply fighting him for real. Since he was actually somewhat teaching MK now, nobody dared to call him out on it.) "Try seeing if you can catch me off guard on Flower Fruit Mountain, yeah? Yep, okay, uh- fuck, I forgot something with the monkeys, should make sure they didn't fucking destroy it, so uh, bye!"

Wukong vanished, leaving behind no trace that he had even been there. MK blinked, processing the Monkey King's parting words.

Did.....did Wukong just invite him to Flower Fruit Mountain for the first time?

[sunkisseddaffodils]

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

-

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

-

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

-

[pascalpanic]

Here for the sentence starters!! "I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater" and "I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what do do." Feel free to do both or either or whatever you prefer with either of the Marcuses! I'm in such a fluffy mood rn and these will make my day :)) (PS I adore you and I hope you have a good day xx)

Making Moves (Marcus Moreno x f!Reader)

Summary: Your neighborhood superhero, Marcus Moreno, is being nagged by his daughter to find love. Lucky for him, just the right woman moves in down the street.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, brief talks of death (just to refer to Marcus’s wife who passed away), brief mentions of sexual stuff. it’s tame.

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN. I love some good Marcus Moreno. He’s such a cutie and these prompts made it so fun! You can still send me prompts from this list with a character, just mind the taken ones! p.s. my emotional support Brit @maxlordsgf see how I used patio/backyard??

The Moreno household was cozy. You wondered if it was Marcus who’d decorated the beautiful home, or if his late wife. You supposed it didn’t matter. You would’ve liked the former Mrs. Moreno, if Marcus could love her like he did. 

He lived a few houses down from you. You’d moved in a couple of months ago, into the nice Craftsman style home you currently rented. The best thing about the house was the beautiful front porch, which exposed the lovely suburban neighborhood. The porch had come with a swing, and you’d decided that it’d have to be your new morning coffee spot. After all, this is California, where the sun was plentiful and the air was just cold enough to be refreshing in the mornings.

The time that you drank your coffee on the porch also happened to be the time that your neighborhood Heroic, Marcus, went for his morning runs. He’d been excited to see that the house was sold, and Missy was too. They planned on bringing over some sweets once you were settled. Several weeks after the sold sign went up, he saw you for the first time. 

You looked like an angel, he thought. You wore a fuzzy robe with patterned capri pajama pants peeking from beneath it. Your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, slightly fogged from the steam of your coffee. You sat on your porch swing, knees pulled to your chest, reading from your tablet. He was immediately caught off-guard. Your new home was at the beginning of his running path, but his breath was already gone from his lungs from your beauty. 

Pushing his own glasses up his nose, he gave you a little wave as you looked up. You’d smiled at him, a grin with your teeth visible. The man was handsome, you’d noticed. Dark hair, a little scruff, eyes that scrunched when he smiled at you. He was fit, too, his muscles evident beneath his tight t-shirt and running shorts. He kept running, unsure what he could say to you. 

Marcus returned home some thirty minutes later to find Missy awake. “Hey, the new neighbor moved in,” he told her as he walked to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Ooh, tell me all about them.”

“Well, we didn’t talk. I still don’t know if it’s a family or anything,” he admitted. “But there was a woman sitting on the porch.”

Missy’s eyes lit up. “How old?”

Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know, muñeca,” he told her and kissed her head as he walked past her to sit at the table. 

“Old enough to date?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and stuffing her mouth full of cereal. “Did she seem single?”

“Stay out of it,” he teased her and poked her forehead, right between the eyes. 

She flinched back a bit but laughed. “Dad, come on.”

He shook his head. “We can bring over a housewarming gift tonight, huh? Then we can see.” -

Well, it turned out that night was too busy to do so for the Morenos.

You saw him the next morning as he ran past again. You wore different pajamas but sat in the same position. You’d waved back.

That’s how the next couple mornings went for the two of you. Every day, Marcus could swear you looked prettier. With you looking like that in your pajamas, he couldn’t imagine how beautiful you’d be at any other time. 

Finally, Friday night, he and Missy put on some music and got to baking.

“What does she look like?” Missy asked curiously as she cracked an egg into the bowl- she’d learned the hard way that her father was not to be trusted with egg duty.

Marcus described you to his daughter, his eyes far off and a small smile on his face. “She’s very pretty.”

“Well, duh. You’re simping over her, of course she is.”

“What’s a simp?” He’d asked, brow furrowing.

-

The knock came an hour or two later. You’d gotten home from work an hour or so earlier, so you were in relaxed clothing, the remnants of your makeup on your face. 

Behind the door stood the handsome runner you saw every morning, and a miniature, carbon-copied version of him with longer hair and more feminine features. “Hi! We’re the Morenos. We live in the blue house down the street. I’m Missy, and this is my dad, Marcus,” she introduced herself cheerfully. She held a tray of brownies. He held a bouquet.

“We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” the man- Marcus- says with a warm smile on his face.

“Oh, thank you!” You grinned and took the tray Missy held out. “Well, come in, please,” you invite them. “Do you drink, Marcus? I was just having some wine. Oh, and Missy, I have some soda if you’d like that.”

The three of you sat in your half-constructed living room for a while and chatted. You learned about the former Mrs. Moreno and how she’d passed a few years ago. You shared that you were living alone and single, due to a bad breakup that led you to move here. The two were good company, you learned quickly, bantering back and forth more like siblings than a father and daughter.

As they stood up to leave, you apologized for the mess. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to hook up my TV lately, and I haven’t done anything else yet. I want to get the TV up first, but I’m practically useless with electronic stuff,” you admitted with a chuckle.

“Oh, Dad is great with electronics,” Missy told you with a grin.

“Not great. Competent would be a better word,” he chuckled. “I could help you set it up, if you’d like that.”

“I would, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. Here, we can exchange numbers, you can text me when you’d like me to come over,” he offered and pulled out his phone.

“Sure,” you said and told him your number, which he enters into his phone and sends you a text. “Perfect,” you nodded and saved his phone number. “I’ll see you two soon, hopefully.”

They said goodbye and you heard Missy giggling as the door shut behind him. It’s muffled, but you thought you can hear Missy anyway: “That was smooth, Dad!”

-

That was months ago now. You’d developed a relationship with the both of them, visiting each others’ houses often for dinner or just to chat. 

When summer rolled around, Missy invited you over for days at their pool. You two had enjoyed yourselves, Marcus playing the role of your butler for the day, serving you mocktails and teasing his daughter. It became a common occurrence during the summer. You even had a reverse day on Marcus’s birthday (July 12th) where Missy served the two of you. It was almost like a date. That was the day you both realized you’d fallen hard for the other.

As much as you spent time with Marcus, the girl positively adored you, and always sent you texts from her father’s phone.

We’re having pizza tonight! Wanna come over?

Dad says he sucks at math. Can you help me with my homework?

My friends canceled on me. Are you free to eat Ben and Jerry’s and watch Mamma Mia with me? 

You’d become like a mother figure to her, helping her when she got her first period, taking her shopping for middle-school dances, giving her boy advice.

Marcus liked you just as much, if not more. You liked him too. He was a funny man, kindhearted and warm. He’d listen to you talk when you’d had a shitty day, bring over a bottle of wine when he needed some comfort, cook dinner for the two of you when Missy was at Anita’s.

One night, you’re eating dinner with them on their patio. It’s nice, overlooking their backyard and their pool. Missy is going to a friend’s later, to sleep over, but Marcus had cooked food for the three of you on the grill, something you’d learned he was fantastic at, and you’re inside getting more food. The door is slightly cracked, and you can hear the two of them talking. 

“Dad. You have to make your move, and you gotta do it tonight! Otherwise, she’ll go for Kent a couple doors down. You don’t want that, do you?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“It’s not that easy, muñeca. I’m so in love with her I don’t know what to do.”

Your heart catches in your chest, fluttering. Marcus likes you. Not only that, he’s in love with you. The past few months race through your head, and you hyper-analyze every little interaction the two of you have had. It’s clear now, in hindsight. You swallow hard, putting back down the skewer of vegetables.

He’s been the only thing on your mind the past few weeks, you have to admit. Your visits to each others’ homes had increased, with you spending more and more nights a week at the Morenos’. His laugh makes your stomach flutter as Missy says something else to him outside. You bite your lip. Tonight’s the night. If he doesn’t make his move like Missy insisted, you’ll do it first.

The conversation is light for the rest of dinner, and you’re a bit detached. Marcus can tell, but he doesn’t comment on it. You simply stare out into their pool, listening to Missy ramble on about the plans that she and her friends have for tonight.

A while later, her friends’ parents pick her up. You stand in the driveway and wave a thank-you to the girl’s parents as they drive off with Missy and her friend in tow. “Love you guys,” she shouts out of the window. You grin and shout it back, in sync with Marcus.

The two of you return to the backyard. You walk a little farther apart from Marcus than normal. “Hey,” he says and stands right next to you, his shoulder nudging yours. “What’s wrong? You’ve been off all night,” he mumbles softly.

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, really,” you chuckle, looking down at your feet. 

Marcus is oblivious to the fact that you heard the two of them earlier. You and Marcus have always had a playful relationship, and the idea strikes him to help cheer you up. “Hey, vecina.”

“What- ah!” You squeal as Marcus lifts you in his strong arms. He walks the two of you to the side of the pool as you wriggle in his grip, laughing. “Goddamnit, Marcus! Let go of me!” You screech as he holds you over the pool, though you’re giggling the whole time.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he laughs, your feet kicking as they dangle over the chlorinated water. 

“No, you asshole!” You laugh, wriggling. “Put me down, Moreno, or God help your poor soul when I-” 

He sets you down on the edge, backing up a bit. “There, fine. Just trying to help,” he teases. He did, he thinks to himself. You’re smiling again. 

You’re painfully close to him. Your hands find his hips and he looks down at your hands in confusion as you pat the pockets of his shorts. No phone. Perfect. There’s a devilish grin as you wrap him in a bear hug and fall backwards into the pool, taking him with you.

You let go once you’re underwater, shooting up to the surface from under him and laughing. He comes up moments later, wiping his eyes and pushing his hair back. Your laugh is maniacal and loud, completely content and proud of yourself. “There, I cheered you up at least,” he shakes his head and smiles. He walks to the shallower end of the pool, and you follow.

“I wasn’t in a bad mood,” you shoot back.

“Well, something was off. Will you tell me now?” He asks, your eyes wandering to his- oh, he’s ripped, goddamn- abs beneath his wet t-shirt. His eyes remained trained on yours, ever the gentleman.

Swallowing hard, you nod and walk closer to him with a smile. “I heard you and Missy when I was inside getting more food,” you tell him, biting on your lip to hold back an excited giggle.

His brows furrow in confusion then lift in surprise as it hits him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you nod, wading a little closer and then even closer. You can hear his heavy breathing and look into those big brown eyes with a grin. 

“Well, I-” he starts stammering, unsure of what to say, until you place your hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Marcus,” you mumble soothingly, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I know you said it’s not that easy. Why don’t you let me take the reins then, hm?” You ask teasingly, bringing your face close to his. 

He grins, taking the opportunity as he sees it. His lips crash to yours happily, his hands finding your waist over your sopping wet clothing. You smile softly against his lips. They’re so soft and warm, the very lips you’ve been staring at for a long time, imagining this. He’s gentle but loving and you deepen it. He follows immediately, parting his lips against yours and he sighs into your mouth. 

The two of you stand there, in his pool, making out, for quite a while. Finally, when he breaks away, looking at you through his water-drop-stained glasses, you grin. “This is your fault, you know. I’m gonna have to go home and change into dry clothing.”

“Or you could borrow some of mine,” he offers with a shy smile, and you grin.

“That works too.”

He kisses you one more time. “Will you stay the night? We don’t even have to… to do anything. I don’t even really want to yet. I just want to keep holding on to you.”

You nod and kiss him softly, for just a moment. “Of course I will.” -

You awaken in the morning to the smell of cooking. You live alone, and it makes your brow furrow in confusion, eyes still shut, until they open and you find yourself in Marcus’ home. His bed, specifically. 

You smell like chlorine and your hair is damp still, but you’re wearing a big black sweater that smells like detergent and cologne and sleep. It’s Marcus’s, you realize with a smile. 

Last night was truly perfect. No, you didn’t sleep with him yet, but it was still perfectly intimate, the way you held each other and whispered sweet words and pressed soft kisses all over each others’ faces and torsos. You’d made out for a fair amount of time too, just like teenagers again, but it was meaningful. 

You pad down the stairs, wearing just your underwear and one of Marcus’s big sweaters. He’s cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and your heart melts as you see him. “Good morning, superhero,” you coo as you wrap your arms around him from behind and press a kiss into his neck.

His body warms and melts into your touch. “Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

“Amazing. Your bed is insanely comfortable,” you chuckle and snuggle in against him, resting your head against his back. 

“I’m glad. Go sit down, breakfast will be ready in a bit.”

You nod and do exactly that, sitting across the kitchen island from him. He puts some pancakes on a plate, drizzles them with syrup, and slides it to you. “Bon appetit.”

“Thank you,” you grin and waste no time in cutting into them with a fork and taking a bite.

You sigh happily and Marcus’s heart can barely take the sight of it. “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“I can’t get over how cute you are,” you tease and pop another bite in your mouth. “The good news is that you can get over it, because I’m coming over here for breakfast in your clothes every day now.”

“Or you could live here.”

The proposal is so quiet, so sudden and nonchalant that it takes you aback for a minute. “What?”

He shrugs. “I know we’ve only been together for, what, 10 hours now, but Missy and I both adore you. You’re over here all the time anyway. Why don’t you? Save us both some money, too.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin. “I might have to think about it.”

He nods. “I get that, I-“

“Done thinking. I’ll do it,” you grin happily. 

“Really?”

“Really,” you nod, giggling excitedly. 

Marcus leans across the kitchen counter and kisses you softly. “Be prepared for a lot of Moreno loving. Missy’s a cuddler.”

“I think I can take it,” you smile and press another kiss to his lips, with all of the love in your heart. 

-

translations:

vecina- neighbor (female)

muñeca- in this context, doll

-

hey taglist, come get y’all’s juice

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1

[lifeexperience]

We are vengeance.

It has been almost three month since Lila Rossi came back from her fabulous trip from Achu. And since she arrived again she enjoyed the glamour. Enjoyed how everybody - who was someone, of course, - danced as she moved her strings. Even that Capitano della Moralità, Adrien was doing what she was saying.  

Just lonely, little Marinette stood on the other side.

The Italian grinned confidently. If she had some plan like that day, she was going to ruin that little girl.

Anyway she had to take prioritization of her tasks. Firstly it’s time to make a Wikipedia page about herself for future reference. She couldn’t be sloppy from here because she could meet more forceful people than Dupain-Cheng.  

Okay, so she would list her accomplishments: modeling with Adrien Agreste      , best friend with Shaytan, knowing Jagged Stone… When she finally finished, the sun already went down and it was dark. Lila disinterestedly looked at her door, his mother again worked overtime.  

Nevermind, she would eat something then collect links of her publications. Yepp, after some pasta all'Ortolana the work would be so much easier.  

However when she went back to gather her online mentions she didn’t find anything. There was nothing about her on the Ladyblog, or on Adrien’s Instagram. Someone deleted them? Who? Maybe it’s just a bug? She would know more if she asks Alya first.

Yeah, don’t need any panic.

“Ciao Alya! I have a question.” she said immediately as that wannabe journalist answered. “Yeah, yeah, così accidentally you didn’t delete my interview from your blog, right?” She nervously patted her laptop as she waited for Alya to look at it. After two minutes there was the answer. She tried to disguise her anger, but she didn’t have the patient at the moment for that stupid girl apologizes.  

So somehow her interview was lost. And she didn’t have to call Capitano della Moralità about their model photo, she knew he didn’t have too much control on it.  

Lila unconsciously started to chew her nails. It was a bad habit of hers since her childhood.  

Who had enough knowledge to hack two different websites to mess with her? Marinette was too morally high for this. And Max, who had the skill, was already under her thumb.  

“Argh!”  

She had to calm down. She couldn’t become an akume because of this since she planned a bigger performance for the next week.

Breath! In! Out!

Okay.

Maybe tomorrow she could make a new interview with Alya and drop some seemingly accident infos about the new adult heroes. Then at the weekend photoshoots she could force Adrien again.

Yeah. Why was she nervous at all? She could use this to grow her territory.

*

It has been almost six days since Adrien reluctantly posted a new photo about the two of them. There were fewer likes and more comments then before, but she was happy because she could continue to build her Wikipedia page. It would be her first thing when she got home.  

And tomorrow she would start her small shame with poor Marinette again. The little girl already was alone most of the time in the school, but Lila knew it was a matter of time to find new friends outside of their class. And she wanted to prevent every attempt of it.

I am great at ruining others.    

She smiled sweetly as she pretended to listen to another rabbling from Rose. That pink fool rarely shut up about her disgusting viewpoint, and Lila sometimes thought she would be a perfect next target after Dupain-Cheng. And if this little pink wannabe would be destroyed, her loser girlfriend would fall with her.  

Yepp, she will be an excellent following after the shit show Marinette will go through.

“Lila, it’s not your phone?” Alix poked her. She turned to her in confusion and listened to the ringing.

“No.” she shook her head. “My ringtone is different. I don’t like metal music.”

The skater tilted her head. “You sure?” Lila nodded, starting to be annoyed. “Because it’s coming from your bag.”

“What?”

She hurriedly got her phone out, and indeed it was ringing with that strange growl music. And the number also was foreign, yet she picked up. “Hello?”

“It’s Lila Lucrezia Rossi?” Everybody in the classroom jumped at once.The voice from the other side was much louder than she thought and now every one of her classmates watched her with wide eyes. She fastly tried to turn down the volume as she answered in agreement. “So your appointment was moved to the next with Doctor Lacroix.”

“Wha...What appointment?” Lila asked. She didn’t remember any medical thing. Of course she told a lot of tails about her health problems, but she was completely healthy.

“So for the farting irritation.” The woman said with a monotone tone. And of course, because Lila couldn’t turn off the speaker everybody in the room heard it.

She blinked.

“I… I think you… you called the wrong number.” she muttered as now she tried to end the call. With no success.  

“But you're Lila Lucrezia Rossi, age fourteen, Italian, aren’t you?” Lila looked around embarrassingly. How did that woman know that about her? If… If she denies it her little puppets' trust would crack. But if she continues this conversation… She didn’t even want to know.

And as she stood there in panic and listened about her supposed condition she wanted to be killed. Every fucking eye was on her. She even saw that goodie-two-shoe tried to hide her giggle with Adrien grinning next to her. And of course she noticed how her circle slid away from her.

Fuck.    

*

She skipped two weeks of school again after that… THAT phone call. Of fucking course almost every one of her classmates called her almost daily to ask about her health. And she had to answer with a lot of information for Every Fucking QUESTION.

It was irritating.  

However she couldn’t stay at home for more days because her mother. It would be too suspicious if there would be some supposed akuma without any TV gossip about it.  

So she had to go to school.  

Fortunately most of the kids were understanding and didn’t bring up the topic. But there was  Kim. Of FUCKING course.

As many times as he saw her he faked a fart with a disgustingly loud moan. She tried to cry about it, though everybody said to bear with it. Kim was just Kim and if she didn’t react he would let it go.  

At first Lila didn’t want to believe it then Alya patted her shoulder sympathetically and left her to stand alone. And because of these really annoying events she couldn’t start her plan with Dupain-Cheng who - of fucking couse - got closer to Adrien. To her key to the famous-rich-carefree life.  

They were chatting cheerfully in the classroom without any glance at someone other than each. They were in their little world, and every girl in the class blissfully sighed at the sight.

And if that day was not enough of a bother to her somehow her school tablet started streaming porno when she tried to project out her presentation. She was mortified just like everybody in the classroom. And she didn’t even have luck with teachers. Because of - fucking - course that lesson was with Mendeleiev.

*

It was already December when she finally served her detention time because of that… THAT incident. She couldn’t go any photoshoot with Adrien due to her attendance problem.  

She didn’t even see Batman, yeah THAT Batman when he saved Shaytan and Chat Noir. She was at a detention with others. Although she could tell Alya a little story about her knowing the American hero and how he called him to help Paris.  

However she only had ten minutes to bask the light because her mamma called her home. Immediately. At first Lila found it strange, but she shook the confusion down. She said goodbye to the wannabe journalist and went home. She blissfully entered the elevator then with a big smile greeted her mother.  

“Lila!” her mother nodded sternly. The woman waited as she - not so happily anymore, dropped her things in her room. “Why did you use your emergency money?”

Lila furrowed her eyebrows. “But I didn’t.”

“No?” her mamma asked.

She shook her head. She didn’t use her emergency card because her mother could check it anytime. That’s why she asked her payment in cash from Gabriel.

“Then tell me mia figlia, why your debit card is in the minus?” Her mamma held a tablet with an account statement in front of Lila. She slowly read over the document. And indeed, her debit card which was only for emergencies was in minus. The description list showed a lot purchasing from different sites that she didn’t even know.  

“I didn’t do this.” she said franctincly.  

“No?” her mother glanced at the numbers. “You know how much money it was? We kept it for your university years.”

“We?” Lila whispered as she became aware of the gravity of the situation.

“Yes. Your father was the one who drew my attention to it.”  

At first Lila only just gaped then she felt how her blood started circulating. Of fucking course that bastard was the one who spying after her.  

“You are a grounded signorina!” she heard her mother voice through her anger. “After the school ends you have to come home then do your homework. I take your phone and electronics too.”

She didn’t even have time to protest as she saw a dark butterfly. She quietly waited as that insect landed on her phone. “How unfair to blame something on others when she is not at fault.” She heard the well-known tone. “Finanza I’m giving you the power to punish everyone who sinned against you. Your only task to bring to me their Miraculous.”

“Of fucking course.”

*

She was defeated again. But one day she would destroy the fame of Shaytan. That girl would taste the fall and humiliation.  

“LILA!” A loud yell cut her from her plans as she sat at the ground. “Lila!” Someone shook her. She looked up to meet Alya irritating face. “Are you okay?”

She blinked some to win some precious moment to calm down. Then she nodded with a fake whimpering. “What happened? You shouted about some money then forced everyone to admit their sins.”

“Oh… I… I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” she sobbed while she tried to hide her dry eyes.

“It’s okay.” Alya hugged her. “Can you stand up?”

She shakely raised on her foot. They silently walked along the pavement for some time when she finally looked around. They were not far away from the school. And of course it meant they were near to the Dupain-Cheng's bakery.

At first Lila didn’t even notice the bakery, then she heard a shocked gasp from next to her. Alya with wide eyes pointed forward. She also turned the direction and her jaw also dropped. There stood Marinette, little innocent Marinette, embracing a tall, muscular man. After some moments they let go of each other and with a big smile Marinette got in the car with the stranger.  

“What… Who was he?”

*

Next day Lila wasn’t able to forget that stranger with the baker girl. He was gorgeous, but most important, older than them and a little dark. Plus he was clearly an adult. Alya tried to claim he was surely a cousin of Marinette, however Lila wasn’t that certain about it. They didn’t look alike. And if she remembered correctly Alya never told about any relatives of Marinette except her great-uncle chef and grandparents. Nobody else.

“Hm.” If she could twist it somehow then she would be on advantage again. But how? Alya was adamant about the family thing, but what if… Perhaps some well aimed stab about gang members. Perhaps.

Although she needed to conceal her mirth as she eyed her classmates. They all stood at the bottom of the stairs and were themselves like stupid sheeps they are. Lila forced a shy smile on herself and carefully stepped between them to tell a new tale about her time in China. And of fucking course it was not a coincidence, she knew well if she use any rather distinct - nevertheless linked to Marinette, - facts then Dupain-Cheng was much easier to upset.

However that stupid girl didn’t bother to pay any attention to her. She just stood beside Adrien and chatted happily with him.

Lila frowned.  

“There is a problem?” someone poked her shoulder. It was Mylene.

“No… No.” her smile was strained. “I just… Why are Marinette and Adrien avoiding us?”

And everybody simultaneously turned their way. The two blissfully laughed at something as they ignored everything else.  

“How sweet!” she heard Rose’s murmurs. Yeah, like pineapple on pizza. Bhrr.

She started to open her mouth to say something though she wasn’t able to voice any sound. A darker than black and really long limousine parked in front of them. It was not Adrien’s one, neither Chloé’s.  

And the most surprising thing was Marinette jumping up and down for the sight.  

All of them including Lila watched as their class president pulled Adrien to the car and after some debate with the driver they got in the car.  

What did she just watch?

“Oh!” It was not a shocked ‘Oh!’, it was a ‘I realized what was happening’. And Lila also wanted to know what the fuck happened before her beautifull eyes.

“You know something, Nino?” She really tried to conceal her angry curiosity.  

The DJ nodded with a relaxing smile. “Marinette’s family visiting from America.”

“You mean she has relatives in America?” Alya asked, more interested than a few minutes ago when she listened to Lila’s gossip.

“Oh, hell!” Kim shouted. “The brothers, right? I almost forgot about them.”

Alya tilted her head as he turned to the swimmer. “Brothers?”

“Yeah.” Nino talked again. “Dick and Jay, and Timtam… and… Who was the one who pissed Chloé off?”

“Some Da… De… Demon!”

“No. His name was…”

Lila tuned out the conversation. So Marinette had a family in the States. And they most certainly rich drawing that conclusion from the limo. Why didn’t she do better research before she transferred?

*

In the middle of the week was the career day and Lila was really lucky to talk her mamman down about coming to it. Of course she didn’t want her here. It would be a disaster.

She had a quite good feeling about the day. If she heard correctly only a few parents agreed to participate and after the school for the day would end. And naturally she kinda forgot this particular information when she told her mother about this ‘really awful’ day.

Yep, I am a genius.

She confidently walked through the hallways and winked at some cute boy because not only Adrien was appreciable in this school. Maybe if Monsieur Agreste would appear she could negotiate for a new line just for herself. After all she always paid attention to his handsome boy.

Humming the newest XY’s song Lila happily stepped in the classroom. However her mood dropped exactly that moment when her foot touched the room’s floor. Since there, in the middle of the room stood with her fake innocent Marinette and that gorgeous foreign man. And from closer he was more handsome than she first thought. Even Madam Bustier blushed and she had a husband.

Why has this girl this kind of luck?    

Lila forced a charming smile on her face and with a friendly wave she sat down. She would not risk her status in front of that man when Marinette is nearby. She had to calculate carefully so for the time she just waited for the start.

When everybody arrived the teacher began her really boring speech about the importance of work knowledge and connections. Lot of the guests nodded in agreement. There was Rose’s mother who was a florist, Nino’s father was a doctor and Alix’s historian father. And of course Marinette’s mysterious man.

She was really curious about him. He wore a perfectly fitted suit and was fucking handsome, nevertheless he looked young. Maybe twentish. It’s maximum six year age difference between them. It’s not too bad.

She patiently waited as every one of the guardians did their presentation when finally the man stepped forward.  

“Before I introduce myself I would like to clear something up.” His voice was a pleasant baritone. Even Adrien didn’t have that kind of sexy voice. Lila already enjoyed the show.

“I would like to ask everyone present to turn off the phones, tablets and any other smart device.”

Lila indifferently watched as everyone reluctantly got their device and turned them off. She didn’t get back hers since her mother grounded her. How lucky, she grimaced.

“In the next step please read through the confidentiality agreement that Marinette hands out. If you don’t want to partake in it or don’t agree to the terms I have to ask you to leave the room.” he continued as the baker girl gave everyone a copy.  

As Lila looked around some of her classmates without thinking signed it up. And surprisingly it was Chloé and Adrien who handed back among the first. She also saw how after that some other looked at their paper with more bravery and signed it. She didn’t even bother to read it, just scan the logo at the top and the stamp at the bottom. She didn’t know this company so she also wrote her name on and handed it back.

Nobody left the room.

“Thank you, and I am apologizing for that little inconvenience, but this is necessary in today’s competitive sphere.” he said as he and Marinette counted and rechecked every one of the papers.  

After a few minutes they finished. “Since today we also published an article it’s not that big of a harm if I introduce myself.” he smiled a little at Marinette and pulled her next to him. “My name is Damian Wayne and I am one of Marinette’s siblings.”

Lila straightened. She heard it right?

“I work at the Wayne Enterprise as a co-CEO beside my brother Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

It can’t be!    

“After our Father decided he would like to spend more time with his family, I took over his position. Some of my...”

How the fucking hell?    

Lila kind of lost herself and didn’t hear anything other than the slowly repeating ‘Wayne’ echo. That rascal was a Wayne heir?

And Lila targeted her?

Oh fuck.    

*

It was Friday when Lila finally understood Marinette’s real power. It was never her connection or her skills. Not even her so-called friends.  

No.  

It was her family.

She of course knew about the Waynes. Who not? They were celebrities, start managers, philanthropists, fucking Gods. And of fucking course every one of the students also knew about them. So for the next couple of days went by like a couple of seconds. One moment she was the center of the attention then suddenly everybody wanted to be friends with Marinette.

Everybody.  

Even the fucking street-sweeper.

And of course there was the media attention. The police had to be called because of the sensation. Lila even saw how two journalists quarreled about which one hid in one the bushes in front of the school.  

Naturally she wanted to take advantage of the situation, however as the article with her name was published her mother’s phone started ringing. And the caller was Lila's worst nightmare.  

On Friday she and her mamman head to the Wayne Enterprise’s Parisian branch. It was a modern building with clear glass windows and a big dark gold W letter. They were hurriedly ushering in an empty meeting room where there were too many chairs for Lila’s liking.  

Her mother - of course, - was enraged. She almost learnt everything about Lila’s school life. Just almost. Unfortunately it was enough to lose her trust in her daughter. Lila was grounded kind of permanently. She wouldn’t get back her phone kind of ever. She only could use her mother’s computer and just for homework. She was not expelled from Francois-Dupont, however she had detention for a year and had to repeat this school year.  

And now she would learn what the Waynes cooked up for her.

She grimaced.  

“Good morning Madam Rossi and Mademoiselle Rossi.” greeted them Damian Wayne himself as he steeped in the room. He was followed by Marinette, her parents - or they were even her parents? Lila wasn’t able to read any article about the family ties. -, a petite Asian woman, then some other more business-like men and women. Surely the lawyers.

“I think you know why you are here.” Damian stated as he sat at the head of the table. Marinette went to his left side with her parents (?) and the petite woman sat down at his right side with the lawyers.  

“Yes.” Her mother nodded.  

“We would like to sue your daughter, Mademoiselle Lila Lucrezia Rossi, for breaking our confidentiality agreement. Furthermore ask a restraining order to prohibit her from approaching my little sister, Marinette Athanasia Al Ghul Wayne.” This man spoke with a really unconcerned voice that Lila almost thought he was not even interested in his sibling’s life.

“Yes.” Her mamman agreed without any protest.  

“However” his voice steeled, “because my sister is a really kind soul she will not sue for the physical violence, a mental and physical harassment and the defaming.” he stared down at her with dark eyes. “Nevertheless we, as from her guardians who are presented” he pointed to the stranger Asian woman and himself, “decided to put on the blacklist Mademoiselle Lila Lucrezia Rossi in every business in which we owned the majority.”

The air got stuck in Lila’s body. Every business? Every? The Waynes owned half of the planet.  

“But” spoke the petite woman, “we would ignore this blacklisting if the Mademoiselle successfully participates in various therapies.” She passes toward a paper. “It’s a list of some advised areas to search for good specialists. We don’t want to break a young child's career so we are ready to compromise.”  

Lila almost believed her then she glanced at the man. At first she thought this Damian Wayne was gorgeous. And indeed his look was perfect, however she didn’t meet more horrifying people than him. His eyes screamed for murder.

She turned back to her mother who kind of looked relieved. “We… I thank you.” she breathed.

After that were just formalities. Signing up that or this. Lila wanted to run home and curl up. And cry.  

She worked for her fame. She worked hard to destroy those lives in her way. She didn’t think she would meet someone who could destroy her with just a flick.

However the paper said otherwise.

Her fucking status said otherwise.

She didn’t remember a lot from the meeting after that. She barely registered when they arrived home. She almost didn’t hear her father's disappointed voice on the phone.

And Lila almost missed the little note on her desk. With a photo about herself as she moves to get an akuma.

We are the night. We are vengeance. We are a family.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Interlude:

III

Miranda is in the mess hall, and Salim is standing with her, as usual.

She is drinking a soda that tastes of nothing, trying to ignore the strange feeling that she is standing on an unstable ground.

"So," Salim says, "we're going to go into the ocean together, right?"

Miranda nods.

Salim nods back. "I thought so. How about we name the thing we'll find when we do, as the beginning of our next great adventure?"

Miranda nods again. They are silent a moment, then:

"The first part of our love," Miranda says, "will be our beginning."

Salim smiles and says something else but Miranda is distracted, staring over the banister. She looks down at the floor of the great circular chamber, where she's been staring for minutes.

The Sphere has been spinning smoothly, at a constant one revolution per minute. This is how it has always been, and how it always will be: spinning and moving without effort, with a strange sort of grace and composure. And this is how it will be for as long as she's in the Sphere, and as long as she doesn't want it otherwise.

There is a strange kind of peace here. She looks around for a moment, to see if she can find a way to explain it, and then remembers that she is at peace, and there's no need to explain anything.

There is something in the center of this tranquility. It's a little off-center, as if it's floating above a sort of pool. She walks towards it, slowly, trying to be casual.

There is a man in the pool, and he is sitting upright with his feet on the side of the pool.

He looks up at her and speaks. "Hello, Dr. Miranda. I've been waiting for you."

"Hello," she says. She's not sure what he is expecting.

"Welcome. Have a seat. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Miranda sits down in the water. It's warm, and her hair floats out above her head. She looks up. The water is only a couple of inches deep.

"You don't need to apologize," she says.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the man says. The voice is strange, sort of electronic and sort of gravelly, like someone speaking through a mouthful of gravel. She has seen Salim use voices like this before, and that makes her a little nervous.

The man smiles. There is something odd about this smile; it doesn't make his face move. She looks away. There is a little pool at her right elbow, and she stares at it, wondering what sort of creature is swimming in the middle of it. The water is clear, and almost opaque, without any discernible color in it.

"May I ask," she says, "what I can do for you? I imagine you're not here because you were interested in the wonders of the Sphere."

"Yes, I am," the man says.

The water shivers, and then changes, and now Miranda sees herself in the water, with long hair and white skin. Her body, she sees now, is much fatter than she thought, and very pale, almost sickly, with big white eyes and enormous breasts. "Are you sick?" she asks.

"I'm not sick," the woman in the water says. The voice is a little deeper and harsher than the electronic one.

"Do you have some sort of … disease?" Miranda says.

"It's a lot more than that," the woman says, in the new voice. Her eyes are very large.

"I'm not here because of anything to do with my body. Are you a … a friend of Salim's?"

"Salim? No, that's just his nickname. I'm here because I'm a friend of the soul."

She has never heard of this, and so her response is the automatic one. "My name is Miranda. What is this place? How did you get here?"

The woman leans forward, now, in the water. There is a strange kind of sound now, which Miranda thinks might be her hair being agitated, but which makes her feel nervous in a new way.

"It's a prison. I was in a prison, on Earth, like Salim is here now."

"Salim is here?"

The woman nods.

"And you're not a prisoner? A prisoner of …?"

"The soul. Yes, I'm a prisoner of the soul."

"You aren't here for any reason?"

"That's right."

Miranda is trying to be polite, not to sound rude, but this is really not an answer she was expecting.

"Then where are the prisoners?" she asks.

The woman shakes her head. "Everyone who's here, no matter what, belongs to the soul, even if they don't realize it yet."

"Even me? Don't you want to save the world? If everyone's on board, there'd be no point in destroying the Sphere."

"You think like a prisoner," the woman says, and there is a tone to the voice that makes Miranda feel a little frightened.

"But it's your … your … body," Miranda says. She can't find a way to say the thing she wants to say. "There must be some way to save it. I mean, you say you don't want to destroy the Sphere. Why wouldn't you want that, too?"

"I never said that. I said I don't want to die. Everyone here wants to die. Death is the only freedom for the soul. You might think this is strange, but it's a beautiful and happy thing, to be without pain."

"Oh, God," Miranda says.

"I understand if you can't stay. There are hundreds of people here, and no one is supposed to leave without permission. But I want you to come back, just so you know how much everyone wants you to be a part of this."

Miranda thinks about what this woman wants. She wants Miranda to come back, to be part of the Sphere. And she wants her there, to watch people die. What is she supposed to do, here?

This is Salim's prison.

Miranda looks out of the window.

There is another view of the city through it. The ocean seems much closer now, and the waves are crashing against the wall of the Sphere. What she sees through the window doesn't look like the ocean, however.

"The city," Miranda says.

"The Sphere," the woman says.

"Yes," Miranda says. What are they talking about? The room is full of people; a little girl looks at her with huge, soulful eyes. There is a giant, many-armed robot that looks at her with its many eyes. She thinks she is in the Sphere, at its center.

"There aren't any robots," the woman says.

"No, I'm not in the Sphere. What are the people doing?"

The woman has leaned back in the water. The sound is a little different now, and Miranda is having trouble figuring out what it is, even though it's clearly not her hair.

"I don't know," the woman says, "but they do it without thought."

Miranda doesn't want to think about what that means. "Do you … know what they're doing?"

"No. But that's the point."

"Is it right?"

There is a long, long pause. "Of course it isn't right. That would be the end of us, of the soul. Do you remember when I told you about a man who used to sit on a rock? He said, he had a rock that was his only friend."

"He did," Miranda says. "I can't help but agree with him. But he was wrong."

There is a kind of cold, mechanical quality to the sound, and Miranda looks at the woman. The water now is up to the woman's waist. Miranda is looking at something … strange. It's the first time she has seen the woman out of the water.

The water begins to vibrate, as if it's boiling. This starts with a vibration that is strong but barely feels, like an old computer monitor, and then builds into a powerful, almost physical rumbling. The water trembles now, and the room is full of light and noise. Miranda is not entirely sure what she sees. She looks up at the ceiling now, the sound like it's inside her head. Is there an open window there? Yes, there is an open window there. The vibrations are shaking her chair.

"I don't think I can stay."

Miranda is speaking. She realizes she has been speaking. The words come out with the same slow, cold slowness, as if she were underwater.

The woman has vanished. There is only empty water.

She looks through the window.

The ocean is dark. She looks away, and it is dark too.

The lights are on now

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.”

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[lunarliza]

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter Two: Palm Trees

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader 

series masterlist | chapter one 

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl? 

note: just wanna thank ya’ll for all the support! so glad you guys like this. there is smut and drug use under the cut btw 

Three Months Ago-

“Shit,” you heard someone curse. 

You met eyes with an unfamiliar curly blonde boy who mimicked a deer in headlights as he perched down under the tall wooden fence. 

It was a fine, breezy morning. You had set up a blanket on a small patch of sand, under a shady palm tree, just behind someone’s large fenced backyard on the edge of the Eight. You figured no one could catch you casually smoking your pot in the secluded area. 

That was, until a pair of skinny legs darted into your hideout. You quickly hid your joint behind your back while his sea blue eyes pierced yours, but not in an intimidating way, more like a raccoon getting caught with food. He wore a dirty white tee, sleeves chopped off, and torn board shorts. He had bracelets trailing up his arm with ‘JJ’ written across multiple beads. You could tell right away he was from The Cut. 

“What the fuck! Who are you-” 

“Shh no no no,” he held a finger up to your lips. “You did not see me here.” 

He attempted to scurry away, but you caught onto his ankle before he could. “Wait!” 

He plummeted over onto the sand and groaned in response. “What the fu-”

You craned your neck at the fallen twinkie. “Are you stealing?” 

Having just moved to the Outer Banks six months ago, you didn’t know much about the culture besides what made up Figure Eight. From what you were told, the island was basically split between two crowds. 

Ted detested The Cut and anyone associated with it. He called them low lives, thieves, rats. One time, Macy went on a play date with a friend from school there. Once Ted found out where she was, he stormed over, pulled her away from her friend, and threatened the family before flooring the car back home. Since then, he forbade your family to go anywhere near the area. Ted wasn’t a man of many words, but the anger in his eyes that day made it clear he was not kidding around. 

“What?” the boy scoffed, “I’m not stealing, just-” 

“Disrupting the neighborhood?” 

His face knotted in confusion. “Something like that... look what will it take for you to keep quiet about this?” 

You shrugged, kind of enjoying his desperation. You weren’t planning on ratting him out at all, but this was the most entertainment you had gotten all week, so you decided to play along. You tapped your chin, “Hmm, perhaps-” 

“Before you continue, princess,” he mocked, gesturing towards the arm you had behind your back, “you might wanna rethink snitching when you have all that dank on you. How would your parents feel if they found out their precious Kook daughter was smoking weed?” 

You rolled your eyes and flipped him off. “Carry on, asshole.” 

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

Later that night, you were dragged to a party at the famous Boneyard by your friend Jade- a petite social butterfly with a heart of gold and the most toxic dating history you had ever seen. 

She was one of the few friends you made since moving to the OBX. Jade knew of how much you hated life at the Eight, but still tried to include you in as many events as she could. Despite growing up with insanely rich doctors as parents, she herself didn’t quite fit the spoiled Kook mold either. She had her kinks, and you liked it. 

“Jade, I’m not sure about this. If Ted finds out-” 

“Girl, you are fine! Just say you’re with me and my parents will cover. Trust me, they think I’m at some study session right now,” she assured.

“But finals aren’t til next month.” 

“Exactly! See how much they care?” 

Hand in yours, she led you to a spot on the beach where a crowd of people pranced around a bonfire. You could tell it was a mix of Pogues, Kooks, and some tourists in town for Spring Break. 

“Care for a beer ladies?” a tall, tan boy asked as he held out two red cups to you and Jade. You happily accepted, and the guy dared you both to chug your drinks. You shook your head with an ear-stretched grin, attempting to gulp as much of your beer as you could take. 

The confidence juice soared into your throat. It tasted absolutely atrocious, but you were determined to finish it. 

For the first time since moving to the island, you felt alive. The two of you tossed the empty remains into a trashcan and Jade cupped your cheeks with her French-manicured hands. “Isn’t this awesome!” she exclaimed and began shaking her hips to the electronic music- her excitement as contagious as ever. You immediately joined her, the alcohol coursing through your body. 

After a few songs, the same boy who offered you the beers crept up behind Jade’s 5’2 frame. He ran his hands along her hips as she grinded back onto him. 

‘Is he cute?’ she mouthed. You threw your head back laughing, giving her an encouraging nod. She went back to being smitten with her newfound man while you continued to dance by yourself, the outer skirts of your dress gliding up as you moved. 

“Well, it’s funny how the tables turn don’t it?” you heard a haughty voice trail behind you. 

You turned to see a shirtless boy double fisting bottles of cheap beer. His back was towards the fire so you couldn’t make out his face completely. Though, something did click in your half-drunken mind at the sight of the beaded bracelets on his wrists.

“You’re the Pogue from this morning,” you stated, staring intently at his sharp features. He was kinda cute in the dark, murky beach air. 

“Fancy seeing you here on our turf,” he rudely replied taking a swig of beer, “not sure who invited you, but here, we have a strict no spoiled bitches policy.” 

The audacity was so potent, and you were taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck off JJ! Y/n’s my friend, and I invited her,” Jade interjected from a few feet away, “go mack on one of the tourons and leave her alone.” 

“Whatever, Kooks.” The blonde scoffed and jogged away from the crowd, back towards a group of kids sitting on a log. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his brash comments. Even with Ted’s aversion towards them, you didn’t quite understand the Pogue-Kook rivalry. You once asked Jade about it to which she just shrugged and said, “It’s just how it is.” 

She personally didn’t have anything against Pogues- as one was currently shoving his tongue down her throat in that moment. Though you didn’t interact much with their group, they seemed fine to you. Minus grumpy Goldey Locks on the log. 

Lost in your thoughts, you hardly noticed the tourist boy in front of you offer a shot of his Tito’s handle. The last time you had vodka, the awful taste nearly climbed back out your throat. But you were too fed up with your family and the Pogue boy’s irritating remarks to care. You closed your eyes, dipped back, and let the boy, dressed head-to-toe in Outer Banks merch, pour whatever he had in your mouth. It didn’t take long before everyone around you started looking fuzzy. A thumping noise in the back of your brain told you that you were way past your limit of about a sip and half. The music began sounding like loud thuds and you had no idea where Jade was. With all the strength you could muster up, you trudged up the beach back towards some palm trees to catch a breath, away from the clammy crowd. 

With one hand on the rugged trunk you bent over, knowing your stomach was rejecting all the alcohol you consumed that night. With one glance back towards the party, you felt the bitterness shoot its way back up your body and out hurled everything you drank onto the ground, a few coughs following. 

Out of nowhere, you felt a hand slide up your back as you lifted your head to see a hazy mess of blonde hair. “Here,” the snarky boy offered, holding up a water bottle, “you’ll feel better.” 

Begrudgingly, you took a few sips and handed it back to him. “Thanks.” 

You could see the party was starting to fizzle out, the water sobering you up. He downed the rest and tossed the empty bottle. 

“Fucking hell,” the guy, JJ, uttered, “You Kooks are way in over your heads.” 

“What’s your problem with me anyways?” you snapped, straightening up so you could meet his eyes. “I didn’t rat on you today! But now I’m thinking maybe I should have!” 

“See that’s the problem right there! You didn’t even catch me doing anything wrong. You just assumed I’m doing something bad because I don’t shit money out my ass.” 

“Well were you doing something bad?” 

“That is besides the point.” 

Your eyes were aching to roll out of your head. You hated the way he was talking to you and decided to play into this little hate-game of his since he seemed to get such a kick out of it. 

“Well, maybe if you kept your filthy head out of our side and up your own ass instead, we wouldn’t have an issue now would we?” 

He huffed and inched closer, causing you to back up against another tree, away from the vomit on the floor. “You entitled bitches think you know it all, probably from all that rip-off dank blowing up your head.” 

He was so close you could smell the faint alcohol on his breath. You were completely sober at that point, focusing on the eyes that probed into yours as JJ’s hands reached up to the sides of the tree, fencing you in. The music from the party was hardly a whisper compared to the tension between you two in that moment. The night was humid, but you weren’t sure if you were sweating from the heat or your jolting nerves. 

Then, a rush of boldness swept through you. 

“You talk a lot of shit for someone’s who’s dying to get into a Kook’s pants,” you tempted, glancing briefly at his lips. You then chose to taunt him even more- biting your own and sticking out your slightly exposed chest in the bodice of the dress you had on. 

He dauntingly moved closer, your faces only inches apart. “In your fucking dreams sweetheart,” he muttered before capturing your lips.

It was a hungry, needy kiss. You hardly knew anything about him, yet you didn’t protest when his hands reached up your stomach to roughly cup your boobs. They then glided down under the thinness of your dress to eagerly squeeze your butt. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, feeling the bareness of your ass underneath. His palm slapped your asscheek so hard, you were sure the entire beach could hear. 

Your hands crept down his bare chest, tracing over to his abs. Still on your ass, his hands kneaded at the swollen cheeks. You felt him pull away slightly after a bit. 

“Ever wonder what it’s like to fuck a Pogue?” 

“Just shut up and take me,” you answered hastily. His coarse hand trailed against your lower folds. He stroked over the material of your soaked thong before pushing the string to the side, his middle finger rubbing you gently. 

You reached in the band of his shorts to feel his hardened cock. You ran your hand up and down the shaft before exposing it out completely. He quickly lifted your leg to drape across his waist as he situated his length to your hole with his sweaty forehead resting on yours. 

Slowly, he pressed himself into you as a loud moan emerged from you both. The boy swiftly held his palm to your mouth while you felt him stretch you out slowly. Your eyes rolled back in bliss. 

“Fuck this pussy is tight,” he slopping mumbled in your ear as he continued, feeling your wetness grip him. 

He held a steady pace for a while before he suddenly halted and pulled out. Before you could protest, he grabbed the sides of your arms and whipped you around so you were facing the tree. When he snatched each side of your hips to pull you towards him, you quickly caught on, spreading your legs apart while arching your back so your ass was perked up and ready. He held his pulsing length in his hands, lining himself with you, before shoving it in full for you to take.

He bent over onto you and seized your chin with one hand to spin your head back for another kiss, tongue and all. “You look so pretty taking this dick,” he rasped as your careless whimpers echoed. 

JJ pounded deeper and deeper in you, yanking down the front of your dress so your breasts plopped free. He massaged them in his hands from behind. In response, your arched your back more, wanting to feel him- all of him inside you. As his thrusts slowed, he pulled out and pumped himself a few times before coming on your right asscheek. He slapped the left when he was done. 

You were breathing heavily, collecting yourself as you straightened up. “Not bad,” you panted as a cocky smirk rose on his face. 

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

note: WHEW CHILE! 

chapter 3

tags: @starkeybaby @obxlife @poguesforlife @everydayimfangirling @iamaunicorn4704 @tangledinsparkles 

[good-rwbyaus]

@honorable-asshole​​:  I need you to know this is absolutely amazing. And for a title might I suggest "rising snow," since the mid is both rising to the occasion and trying to prevent the collapse of what probably amounts to the world economy? 

#Rising Snow AU :: Pieces 12-14 :: mod lilac   [ first ] [ previous ]

honorable-asshole asked: Au where Whitley has actually been running the bank accounts since he was young and keeping the group financially viable

// This AU’s name is Rising Snow now. xD. Thank you to honorable-asshole, both the AU namer and the AU inspirer. 8). Runner up for title namer is azdfox for Whit and Wit. - lilac

12. Impression

It didn’t take long to get a response. After Klein and he had their discussion about Acacia, he found his scroll ringing the next day despite it being set to ‘do not disturb’. It was from an unknown caller with a nonsensical 22-digit number, but he didn’t need to be a genius to figure out who it was.

Click.

“I see you’re the big bosss now,” said the woman on the line; he could hear a slight electronic hum resonating with her voice, a blatantly obvious attempt at voice modulation. So blatant that it told him that she wanted him to know - suppose that was one form of sincerity. Despite the voice mask though, it couldn’t hide the drunken slur in her words, one that he couldn’t help but be irritated by. 

“Only until Father comes back," he still spoke back neutrally, leaning back on his chair and away from the piling paperwork, "so you’re Acacia.”

A long pause. How drunk was this lady?

"I am,” Acacia continued, “so when are you plotttting the hostile -hic- takeover?”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Come to think of it... that’s what he was doing now, wasn’t he? Undermining his father’s authority and trying to find where all the skeletons lie. Because he had to be the one in control in the end. His father never treated the Schnee Dust Company as a business but as his own personal piggy bank, and now that the bank was running out, the Schnees were in danger of being left with nothing. 

And he wouldn’t be surprised if his father left himself an out. What would it be? A private penthouse in Mistral? A couple offshore bank accounts in Vale? Who knows? It ticked him off greatly, but he had more important things to do than indulge in pointless anger.

‘You must not like my Father very much,” he returned.

"I don’t,” the woman said sternly, probably the most sober thing she said. “Your father took everything from me.” 

“Then why help his son?” Whitley asked. 

"You are you. Your father is your father."

“That’s not enough to reassure me,” Whitley said sharply, “You show up drunk to our first meeting, are using a voice modulator, and don’t even show your face. Are you even taking this seriously? The only reason why I’m entertaining you right now is because of Klein’s assurances that I can trust you.”

He heard something like a choke in the background and then a click. He quickly glanced at his scroll - they weren’t disconnected - she must’ve muted herself.

Another click.

“...Klein’s a good man,” the voice hiccupped out, though her voice sounded more strained - hoarse even. 

“He is. But I still don’t trust you. From what I heard, you’re not just a secretary but an expert on technological surveillance,” Whitley replied, “If I let you into the system, I very well may be letting a wolf in.”

“...You can’t keep me out in the firssst placee,” Acacia slurred. 

“Prove it,” Whitley said.

The sound of typing filled his ears before it quickly stopped.

“My show of -hic- sincerity,” she quietly said. 

His scroll suddenly went dark and turned back on. Numerous video feeds popped into view. The kitchen, his sisters’ bedrooms, Klein in the kitchen, the dining room, the lounge, his own bedroom... Alarmed, he turned towards the bookcase to his side before looking down at the scroll in his hands - it was tracking him. 

He hurriedly walked over and quickly pulled out a book that had a pin-sized hole within it. The scroll’s feed followed wherever he pointed. And the Schnee Mansion was covered in these cameras?! It was impossible for it not to be an inside job then. He shook in rage. Was his father seriously that paranoid about maintaining power - that he’d spy on his own family!? 

His attention returned to the scroll. He took a few calming breaths. 

“I’ve received your sincerity well,” he finally let out, “Another thing that my father will have to answer for.”

Another long quiet moment.

“I... yes," the voice stuttered out quietly, “...you trust me now?”

“I can trust you to put your money where your mouth is,” Whitley corrected, “That’s probably as good a foundation we’re going to get for our working relationship, since you’re clearly not going to reveal your identity. Is Acacia even your real name?” 

He then shook his head.

“Actually you know what? It doesn’t matter now. As of right now, you and Klein are the only assets I have,” Whitley said with a long exhale. A loyal butler and a drunk secretary, better than being alone with this mess. 

‘....Regardless of what happens, I’ll be by youur side,” the voice said, “even if you decide to driiive this company into the ground.”

Acacia... sounded oddly sincere about that, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact the woman was completely sloshed.

“I thought you loved the company,” Whitley asked.

“I loved the people in it,” she said mournfully, “I admired your granddad...” She paused, “Since you have his blood, as far as I’m concerned, the company is yours to do as you see fit.”

“You know that Winter and Weiss are the true heiresses, right? If you really wanted to get the company back up, shouldn’t you be asking them?” Whitley questioned.

“Do they -hic- look like they want anything to do with it?” 

“Hahaha,” Whitley couldn’t help but laugh at himself. That was true. The prize he always strived for was looked upon as garbage by his older sisters - and what was more ironic was that the company was actually garbage. Was he really the only blind one here? He sighed before he shook his head, banishing the useless self-pity away. 

“It’s their loss. I’m going to save this company,” Whitley declared, “I’m going to make sure we’re so entrenched in Atlas - in Remnant - that no one will dare do anything to the Schnees.”

He closed his eyes and looked down at his scroll.

“Will you help me towards that goal?” he asked.

“Like I said, it’s your company,” the voice replied, “I’ll go as far as you want to go, President Schnee.”

He smiled.

President Schnee. He liked the sound of that. But first things first.

“Then since you’ve clearly shown yourself in, let’s begin. I need the budget reports starting from last year...” 

---

13. Efficiency

Having Acacia on board for the past several days made his job easier. No longer did he have to sift through unimportant garbage such as meeting schedules or planning dinners or cafeteria food requests. She instead triaged his work, sending documents where they actually needed to go - he suspected she had a digital stamp with his signature on it - and made sure things got done in the background. Despite the questionable legality and hole in oversight, he found it a welcome thing. He could finally focus on more important matters such as where all his company’s money went or the increasing unrest down at the Mantle mining sites.

He’d seen signs of his company’s corruption back when he took a glance at the budget. R & D had been a black hole where money goes in and nothing comes out. Transport and Delivery had been ‘losing’ more and more Dust shipments. Customer Support was full of idiots he’d fired on the first few day of his job. Security has been demanding more funds to deal with the so-called Faunus threat without any actual evidence to their claims. 

The only thing that’s made profit at all was Dust Mining and Surveying, which was personally managed by the President. It was literally the only thing that was holding this company together.

He picked up his scroll and sent a voice message.

“Acacia. I’ve gone through the budget. I’ll be requiring your expertise. I’ll need information on the following people before I meet them two days from n-”

Klein walked in, not with a milkshake, but with a bowl of spaghetti. 

“Klein, I said I wanted a milkshake, not this.”

“You’ve been drinking milkshakes for two days now, Master Whitley, ” Klein said, “Acacia has again expressed... concern.”

He sighed as he grumpily stared at the bowl, picking up his fork.

“Is she your boss or am I your boss?” he grumbled at both phone and Klein, though no heat was in his tone. He knew Klein was looking out for him, though he was surprised Acacia did too. 

He smiled faintly as he began eating the pasta. 

His parents might not care for him and his sisters, but at least he still had people willing to stand by his side.  

-------

14. Threat

Several men, dressed in suits and blazers, sat inside a large board room; the last chair at the end of the table had yet to be filled. All of them seemed annoyed at being called at this late hour. “What’s going on?”

“Beats me. I was being attended by a masseuse when I got the emergency order.”

“Stop complaining. I was with my mistress when it happened. You know how uncomfortable it is to take that pill and not-”

“Shut it. Isn’t the president supposed to be on vacation?”

“Then how did this emergency meeting get called?”

“Because I called it,” Whitley spoke as he opened the door to the board room. Wearing a navy blue suit complete with a sky blue tie, he adjusted his silver cufflinks slightly and sat down at the end chair. “Gentlemen.”

“Whitley Schnee,” the man to the left of him said in a fawning expression, “haven’t seen you since the last dinn-”

“Shut it, Samson,” he interrupted.

“What?” Samson, the CEO of R&D, questioned blankly  before he quickly stood up, yelling “What’d you say you little bra-”

“I told you all to shut it,” Whitley growled as he glared back into the now hostile room, “Do you know what all you scum here have in common?”

“You’ve all stolen money from my company. Hundreds of millions of Lien,” he announced and turned on the projector with a push of the remote. Budget statements with padded numbers crossed out and the corrected ones filled in appeared on the screen, complete with department names. Bank transfers to personal accounts could be seen. 

Several members of the company’s board had looks of astonishment while others maintained a perfect poker face.

“You shouldn’t make false accusations.”

“This is all fake!” 

“Do you think you’re actually the president?”

“As far as all of you are concerned, I am,” Whitley countered, slowly standing up and turning his back to them, “Klein, please pass my esteemed associates their information packets.”

The butler quietly yet swiftly delivered a manila folder to every one of the room’s inhabitants. Several of them began looking through the contents and immediately became pale. 

“Some of you... Most of you - by virtue of your thieving - have committed crimes that could be considered treason to the Kingdom of Atlas,” Whitley quietly spoke to the now silent room. 

He turned his head immediately to a balding bespectacled man, “Lexington, the heating coils in Mantle should last for a decade per our agreement with the Kingdom of Atlas, so why did you construct them with material that would only work four or five years at best?” he asked before adding, “That’s pretty shifty, especially in light of your recent purchase of a mansion whose price happens to match the missing portion of the budget. Horrible correlation, right?”

“And Rex, what happened to the protective walls down at Mantle,” he asked in a kind tone, smiling, “They should’ve been finished a year ago, so why are we still two years behind?” 

His smile shifted to a disdainful frown, “Tch.” 

“As for the rest of you, you should find that my money is not easily taken. The folders will easily show that I know where all your skeletons lie.”

Quiet murmurs filled the room. Some of them clandestinely attempted to use their scrolls, only to find they had no signal - Acacia’s work. 

“What do you want us to do?” Samson said, the fastest thinking of the lot. That was why he was the closest ally of his father - ally: his father didn’t have friends. 

“At least you’re smart. Not smart enough to stop yourself from stealing from my company, but still...” Whitley replied, which made the man redden with anger, “You will all sign documents to the effect that you are willingly transferring your stocks to me. After confirmation of the transfer, you will then resign,” Whitley calmly said, “If you do those two things, I will keep what I’ve learned under my belt, and we all walk away happy.”

“What?”

“Don’t go too far, kid.”

“You think you’ll survive if you dare take on all of us,” one of the CEOs replied, “Tch. I’m done with this farce.”

Just as the CEO stood up, Whitley delivered his ulitmatum, “should anyone leave here without doing those two things, I release everyone’s information to Atlas.”

“The company won’t survive if you do tha-”

“What you’re doing is a crime. This is blackmai-”

“No, no, no. This isn’t blackmail,” Whitley interrupted with a laugh, “this is simply a business deal, a mere trading of worthless stock for your valuable lives. Now if you think that what I’m doing is a crime...” He shrugged, “I guess I have no choice but to report these things to the proper authorities.”

The room fell silent at that.

“As for the company, you’re right. Losing a lot of important assets at once will impact the company,” he lightly said before glaring at them, “Luckily, all of you are leeches and don’t fall under that category.”

Lexington bristled.

“If you release that information on us, have you not thought about what will happen to your father?”

Whitley chuckled. 

“Oh I certainly have. My father will likely go to jail after all this, and I’ll probably have to go on TV and talk about how sorry I am about my father’s crimes and that I’ll work hard to atone in his place,” he replied, “Troublesome things, yes. And of little worth, since I do agree that the Schnees will be a very hated name in the Kingdom for quite some time.”

“But we’ll at least have the opportunity to recover. The rest of you on the other hand...” he chuckled darkly, "...will probably have long met the firing squad.”

“And as for those of you who think they can escape, do you really think your connections will mean anything once General Ironwood gets ahold of you?”

The room became quiet once more as they considered the question.

“I thought so,” Whitley finished with a calm smile, a smile that these ruthless businessmen would be seeing in their nightmares - the smile of a son willing to sacrifice his own father for his goals. Everything that he wanted to show, he let them see.

“So no more objections? Shall we start the transfer of assets then?”

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Part 31 - Choice

“I want you now,” she hisses into your ear.

“One of those rooms,” you say from her neck between kisses, “we can-“

“No, I want you now,” she says, her tone strong, adamant. You watch the passion and need burning strong in her eyes as she breaks apart from you and takes you by the wrist, leading you to a secluded corner of the thankfully deserted parking garage, one out of sight of the main routes and covered at least partially by shadow and large parked vehicles.

When you reach the rear of an expensive looking sedan she finally turns to face you, and you waste no time resuming your fierce kiss, your lips crashing against each other once more. She cups your face in her hands and you reach down and cup her cute, firm ass with both of yours, giving her butt a squeeze before lifting her up and quite literally dropping her onto the trunk of the sedan.

Jeongyeon lets a yelp of surprise out as she is deposited on the vehicle, and you return her smile as you watch a devious, lusty smile appear on her cute features. She spreads her legs to allow you between them, and she grabs you by your collar before pulling you toward her and crushing your lips with hers. You quickly tear yourself from her mouth to resume your work on her neck, your hands finding and squeezing her thighs, her short dress quickly riding up her waist to reveal more of her perfect, long legs.

---

 "What the hell are you doing here, Momo?"

 Hirai Momo doesn't seem to have heard your question. Her eyes - those large, expressive eyes of hers - are glued to the large navigational screen embedded in the front console of the van as she tries to find an escape route in Seoul's complicated downtown road grid.

 "Left here. Lose them in the tunnels!"

 "On it," answers the driver, a small, youthful looking girl that would've looked right out of high school were it not for the multiple small tattoos decorating her left arm. She changed lanes and jerked the van in and out of Seoul’s rush hour traffic with an ease that seemed at odds with her appearance - where exactly did such a girl get experience with getaway driving?

 "They're in a black SUV, a block behind us," calls out another occupant of the van - the flight attendant that had been on your flight from Hawaii, "we've almost lost them!"

 "Try to keep us still, goddammit," chirps the third newcomer, another youthful looking girl, as she tries her best to disinfect and bandage the gash on Yoo Jeongyeon's cheek despite the constant rocking and turning of the vehicle. Jeongyeon winces as an alcohol pad is applied to her face. The wince turns into a grimace as the third girl does her best to wipe away the blood running down the IT specialist's face and onto her neck.

 "Is she okay?" Momo snaps, turning to the third girl and watching as she places a bandage on Jeongyeon's cheek.

 "I'll be fine," Jeongyeon answers through gritted teeth.

 "She'll be fine," the third girl echoes with a sarcastic smile as she finishes placing the bandage. Jeongyeon's face scrunches in pain as the bandage is pressed against her wounded cheek.

 "Watch our rear. And jam their comms! I don’t want them calling for backup,” Momo shouts, not once taking her attention away from the traffic in front of her. 

 "On it!" replies the flight attendant, looking away from the rear window of the van to operate a laptop. The third girl takes over her position at the rear of the van as the flight attendant types away at a terminal with admirable concentration given the instability of the vehicle.

 "They're blocked, but not for long," she announces a moment later.

 "Get us out of here, Chaeyoung," Momo says once more to the driver, her tone a little more insistent now.

 The driver - evidently named Chaeyoung - doesn't answer immediately, but the rapid jerk of the vehicle, and the loud honk from what was probably a recently cut-off commuter, tells you she was doing her best. The van weaves between lanes, Seoul's downtown core flashing by outside the tinted side window in a blur of concrete and glass that suddenly turns into the darkness and artificial light of a tunnel. 

 "They're gone! They didn't see us go into the tunnel. We've lost them!" announces the third girl from the rear of the van.

 "Take us home," Momo orders the driver, letting out a sharp breath of relief.

 "Gladly," the driver replies, her driving slowing down somewhat to a more normal speed as she tries to blend into the mass of commuters.

 "Momo!" you say once more, eager to finally get her attention, "What are you doing here?"

 Finally satisfied that you were no longer being chased, Momo sits down on the floor of the van and faces you, giving you her attention at last. There is a look of frustration and anger on her face, as though the act of rescuing you and Jeongyeon was the last thing on Earth she had wanted to be doing.

 "I'm here saving your ass," she hisses, before crawling along the floor of the van to join the flight attendant in the rear of the vehicle, where they both quickly begin to discuss something on the screen of the laptop. The third girl busies herself with putting away the medical supplies she had been using on Jeongyeon, offering you a soft smile as if in apology for the brusqueness of Momo's reply.

 Momo's cold reaction to you stings more than it should - you'd been relieved beyond belief that she was there to rescue you and Jeongyeon from potentially being captured by SM, but you certainly weren't a reception like this. You weren’t expecting her to treat you like she was your girlfriend again, but you certainly weren’t expecting the cold shoulder she was giving you, either.

 Jeongyeon crawls next to you, looking like a little bit of a mess given her bandaged cheek and scuffed knees. She manages to give you a weak smile as she rubs her sore knuckles, which were beginning to bruise after their recent forceful introduction to an SM guard's jaw.

 You take her hand in yours and rub her knuckles for her. The both of you sit in silence for the rest of the ride.

 ---

 When the van stops, it is in what appeared to be a middle class residential district of Seoul, filled with massive, soaring apartment blocks that each looked almost exactly the same from one another. Space was at a premium in the South Korean capital, and such large scale apartment blocks were a common sight. They also made for an ideal way to lose any potential pursuers, given each building’s identical appearance and large, often labyrinthine layouts.

 The van parks in a vast, gated underground parkade beneath one of the buildings, finally coming to a stop on the third level down. As soon as Chaeyoung puts the vehicle in park Momo and her team exit it and gather up their gear with practiced precision, as though they had done so a million times before. 

 Jeongyeon and you hop out of the van last, trying your best to stay out of the way of the four girls as they pack up various electronics and cameras into large duffel bags and plastic bins. You try to help one of them, the flight attendant, with a large black plastic carrying case, but she refuses your help by hefting the large container on her own, not even bothering to make eye contact with you. Only the third girl, the one that bandaged Jeongyeon, offers any glimmer of friendliness, giving Jeongyeon a short bow and a quick thank you as Jeongyeon helps her retrieve a large black duffel bag out of the back of the van.

 Jeongyeon approaches Momo, her arms spread as though she were intending to hug the Japanese girl.

 “Momo, thank yo-“

 "We have a few safehouses in this building," Momo says quickly, interrupting Jeongyeon as she tosses you and her each a key fob, "You two can use those for tonight. We'll talk more in the morning. Be at the cafe across the street at 9am."

 Without further word Momo and her team head towards the nearest elevator with all of their gear and equipment in tow, leaving you and Jeongyeon in the cold darkness of the parkade.

 —-

“Jesus,” Jeongyeon says once Momo and her team are out of earshot, “what the hell is her problem? You’d think she didn’t want to rescue us.”

 “I don’t know,” you answer, similarly dumbfounded. 

 “What do you wanna do now, boss?” Jeongyeon says, rubbing at her wounded cheek as she faces you. You move closer to her, and without thinking you bring your own hand to her cheek. Her hand covers yours as you cup her face and she nuzzles her wounded cheek into your palm. Your eyes catch hers, and you are overwhelmed - with gratitude for her and the way she put herself on the line for you. She gives you a soft smile.

 “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 “I’m fine… we’re both okay, that’s all that… matters…”

 Jeongyeon’s words trail off as you step closer to her, your eyes locked on one another as your faces drift closer and closer together, your lips so close you can feel the exhale of breath from her nose. You weren’t quite sure what brought you two together so quickly - perhaps it was the leftover adrenaline rush from the day’s events, perhaps it was thankfulness and gratitude that you were both safe, perhaps it was relief that you at least weren’t alone in a strange and unfamiliar place under radical circumstances. 

 Regardless of the reason, when your lips finally press against each other you both feel yourselves give in to what was eventually about to occur. The first few kisses are soft and gentle, but they quickly become more passionate and heated as the leftover adrenaline from the day’s excitement, from having so narrowly avoided extreme physical danger, is redirected into physical desire.

 Your hands wrap quickly around her tall, slim body, and she reciprocates by wrapping her arms around your neck as the kiss deepens and continues to heat up, your tongues quickly duelling now, exploring each others’ mouths with reckless abandon, passion and need quickly blinding and overruling your judgement.

 You break the kiss and quickly place a few pecks on her sharp jawline before reaching her ear and placing a soft kiss there. Not able to resist any longer, you quickly dive into the warm, perfect skin of her long neck.

 Jeongyeon lets a wordless sound of desire escape her lips as you devour her neck, her hands curling up the back of your head, her nails digging almost painfully into your scalp. She pushes herself against you, and you delight in the feel of her soft breasts and wide hips pressed against your body as if she is trying to melt herself into you. She stands on her tiptoes and tilts her head in an attempt to present more of her neck to your exploring lips.

 “I want you now,” she hisses into your ear.

 “One of those rooms,” you say from her neck between kisses, “we can-“

 “No, I want you now,” she says, her tone strong, adamant. You watch the passion and need burning strong in her eyes as she breaks apart from you and takes you by the wrist, leading you to a secluded corner of the thankfully deserted parking garage, one out of sight of the main routes and covered at least partially by shadow and large parked vehicles.

 When you reach the rear of an expensive looking sedan she finally turns to face you, and you waste no time resuming your fierce kiss, your lips crashing against each other once more. She cups your face in her hands and you reach down and cup her cute, firm ass with both of yours, giving her butt a squeeze before lifting her up and quite literally dropping her onto the trunk of the sedan.

 Jeongyeon lets a yelp of surprise out as she is deposited on the vehicle, and you return her smile as you watch a devious, lusty smile appear on her cute features. She spreads her legs to allow you between them, and she grabs you by your collar before pulling you toward her and crushing your lips with hers. You quickly tear yourself from her mouth to resume your work on her neck, your hands finding and squeezing her thighs, her short dress quickly riding up her waist to reveal more of her perfect, long legs.

 Her dress may have left most of her legs bare but it was annoyingly high cut, stymieing your desire to move your kisses down her chest. Jeongyeon lets out a little giggle as she realizes what the cut of her dress is keeping you from doing - she cups your head in her hands and quickly gives you a peck on the lips before placing one hand on the top of your head and pushing it down her torso, and between her spread legs.

 Jeongyeon is wet, to say the least, the dark dampness on the tiny, thin black thong she is wearing evidence of her arousal - you were a little surprised by the level of her desire, but given the circumstances and the intense desire in your own body you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised at all. It only heightened your own need to taste her, devour her, and make her yours.

 You quickly pull the front of her thong to the side, revealing her moist, wanton flesh, and while you usually took your time when pleasuring a girl with your mouth you knew this wasn’t one of those times - no, this was quick, “thank God we’re alive” sex - it was no time for slow, gentle lovemaking.

 The long, drawn out sigh that Jeongyeon makes when you give her a broad, wide lick from the bottom of her slit to the top is evidence that she, too, wants it quick, and fast, without any further delay between her and the pleasure she so desperately needed. She leans back and spreads her legs even further, her eyes drunk now with need as you delve back between her soft thighs.

 Savouring the bittersweet taste of her juices on your tongue, you slowly move your tongue to her dripping clit, the tip of your tongue reaching out and giving her another broad lick, and then a third, until she is a squirming, writhing mess atop the car trunk. Satisfied that she was ready, you quickly plunge in, capturing her engorged clit with your lips, using the tip of your tongue to swirl around it in soft but consistent circles.

 Jeongyeon is a mess now, all vestige of decorum or patience long having fled from her. There was only need, and pleasure, and the desire for an outlet to the adrenaline fuelled lust in her young body.

 You savour the feel of her hot, wet, squirming flesh beneath your tongue as she gives in to her pleasure, continuing the pace and strength of your pressure on her clit. You bring your right hand to her opening, your fingertips finding and teasing her splayed, drenched lips before slowly entering her body with one, then two fingers.

 Jeongyeon lets a long moan escape her lips - evidently the entire apartment’s population could have showed up to watch her turn into a mess as you ate her out on the trunk of a stranger’s car and she wouldn’t have given a damn, wouldn’t have wanted you to stop. Her hands press tightly against the back of your scalp, her hips and thighs quivering, writhing back and forth on the cold metal of the car as you work your magic between her thighs. Your fingertips are one knuckle deep inside her, playing almost lazily with her slick folds.

 “Put them.. put them deeper in me,” Jeongyeon hisses, her words light on the air as she struggles to maintain her composure.

 You aren’t one to deny her, and you slide your fingers deeper into her body, curling them so your palm is facing upward. When you find the rough patch of flesh at the front of her pussy she lets out a sharp exhalation of breath, her fingers digging almost painfully into the back of your scalp.

 “Fuck… fuck!”

 You continue your work on her clit, upping the pace just a little bit, enough to make her want more, enough to bring her to the edge. Your fingers swirl in circles inside her, rubbing and pressing and teasing that patch of flesh.

 “Oh… Oh god!”

 Jeongyeon climaxes, and her body jerks almost uncontrollably as the orgasm courses through her body, her legs closing tightly around your head and covering you in the warm softness of her thighs. Her juices flow freely from her slit and onto your open palm, drenching it in slick wetness - it was the strongest orgasm you’d ever seen her have, likely fuelled by the day’s events and the circumstances that you found yourselves in.

 You wind down your work on her clit and your fingers inside her give her a few more lazy touches before you slowly withdraw them from her body, her walls clenching around your fingers as though not wanting to let them go. You savor the taste of her on your tongue, lapping up her freely flowing juices with one last lick before finally rising from beneath her flushed thighs. You bring your right hand, absolutely drenched with her, to your mouth, licking her wetness from your slick fingers, swirling the slick juice in your mouth like a fine wine.

 Jeongyeon is an absolute mess, lying there with her legs spread on the trunk of the car. She lets herself rest for a moment as she lies back on the rear window, her chest heaving as she struggles to regain her composure. You smile devilishly at the sight, and you bend to give her a kiss, her tongue entering playing with yours as she tastes herself in your mouth.

 “Fuck me,” she whispers, and you weren’t one to delay any further, quickly unbuckling your belt and pulling your jeans and boxers down, finally freeing your stiff shaft. As luck would have it the car is a sitting at the perfect height - perhaps the suspension had been lowered? Either way, Jeongyeon reaches down, just as impatient as you, and gives your cock a few quick strokes before placing it at her wet, dripping opening with one hand and pulling aside her saturated thong with the other.

 You enter her quickly, not wanting to delay the pleasure for a moment longer. There would be a time, hopefully soon, when you could take your time with her, truly make love - but this was not it.

 Jeongyeon is wet and slick and hot around you, her body so perfect in every way inside and out. Her pussy, slick and wet from recent orgasm, tightens around your shaft like a vice, quickly adjusting to your girth and wrapping it with hot flesh. After just a few strokes you quickly find a rhythm as you pump in and out of Yoo Jeongyeon’s body.

 “Harder, fuck me harder,” she hisses, disapproving of your pace, “fuck me hard.”

 You submit to her demands, and soon you are fucking her with hard, stiff strokes, your shaft pumping out to a little more than halfway before driving once more inside her body. Nothing else exists save for her pussy wrapping tightly around you as you fuck her on the trunk of the car, the squeaking of the car’s suspension, the slap of your hips against hers, and the quickly rising gasps of pleasure from her lips that are quickly filling your ears.

 Your left hand clutches her right thigh, but you are desperate to have more of her, and so you reach down with your right hand and squeeze her left breast through her dress, cursing again how it was keeping you from truly having your way with her body. Jeongyeon senses your frustration and squeezes the back of your hand as it plays with her breast, a devilish look in her eyes as you continue to fuck her.

 “Oh, fuck, fuck that feels so good!” She says, uncaring now about how loud she was being or whether you would both be caught here, fucking openly on the trunk of a stranger’s car.

 “You’re so fucking tight, Jeongyeon.”

 “You’re so.. so fucking big inside me… fuck… you’re stretching me so wide!”

 The dirty words spilling out of her mouth only heighten the lust in your body, and you step up your thrusts, releasing your palm from her breast to bring both hands to her thighs and using them as leverage to drive yourself deeper and deeper into her pussy. You watch intently as your shaft spears in and out between her legs, her juices absolutely drenching your cock, her moist, glistening lips pressed tightly around your hard flesh.

 Drunk on lust, you want more, want to have more this young woman’s body, want to take the pleasure from her body that you so needed. And so you quickly pull all the way out of her before pulling her off the trunk as well and turning her around, pressing a palm on her back before pushing her down and bending her over the trunk.

 Jeongyeon quickly catches on to what you want, and she is perfectly happy to let you have your way with her if it meant more pleasure. She bends over the trunk, spreading her legs and arching her back to ensure the right angle. You push the hem of her short dress over her hips, pull her annoyingly still-present thong to the side, and once again enter her hot, wet pussy, your cock spearing into her body with such force that it drives her against the car’s trunk.

 “Fuck yes!” She yelps, dismissing any fear you may have had that you had entered her too deeply, or that your thrust had hurt her in any way as she is pressed against the vehicle. Taking that as license to continue, you reach down and squeeze the firm cheeks of her cute butt before beginning to fuck her to your heart’s content.

 You’d had Jeongyeon from behind before but never like this - never after a day when you both had looked danger in the eye and laughed and just barely escaped from its clutches - and she is tighter and hotter and wetter than you remember, her body feeling absolutely heavenly around your cock as you pump in and out of her pussy.

 You watch as Jeongyeon’s hands search for something, anything on the trunk of the car to squeeze and keep a hold of. You smile wickedly as you slap her right cheek with an open palm, delighting in the red mark it left there. The deviousness of your smile deepens when you notice the puckered opening of her ass between her round cheeks, and you tease her other opening lightly with your thumb, earning a yelp of surprise from Jeongyeon’s lips that soon turns into a sultry moan when you slowly press your thumb tip into her anus, not penetrating - just teasing.

 All the while you are fucking her harder than you ever had.

 This was sex at its dirtiest, at its most filthy - there was no room for feelings or emotions here; just two people wanting an outlet for the energy and adrenaline in their bodies and finding it in each other. There would be a time for dealing with the fallout; for now, the only thing that existed in the world was Yoo Jeongyeon’s body, bent over the trunk of the car, and the wonderful sheath of flesh between her spread legs.

 You savor every second of it, even looking up and out the roof of the parking garage in an attempt to distract yourself from the pleasure that was quickly overwhelming you, but you couldn’t do so for long - not when the sight below you and the feeling of pure pleasure radiating from your loins was so powerful, so impossible to fight.

 “I… I’m gonna cum again!” Jeongyeon yelps, and almost immediately she does just that, her body trembling and shaking as her knees give out momentarily and her body slouches against the car. You slow but don’t stop your rhythm, giving her deeper thrusts as the orgasm overtakes her and her pussy tightens deliciously around your cock, pulsating and squeezing as Jeongyeon’s orgasm courses throughout her tall, slim frame.

 “I’m gonna fucking cum inside you,” you hiss - not even caring to ask her where she wanted it. You wanted to cum in her, wanted to fill her with your semen - no other option even presented itself in your mind. Usually you would ask out of politeness. This wasn’t one of those times.

 “Yes!” Jeongyeon answers, as though you had spoken words she’d wanted to hear for awhile, “Yes, please! Cum in me… fill me up, baby. Fill my pussy with your cum. Cum in me!”

 “You want it, Jeongyeon? You want to be fucked like this? You want my cum deep inside this hot little pussy?”

 “Yes! I want it… I want it all! I want it inside me… filling me up… Cum in me! Cum deep inside me!”

 With three more final thrusts into her slick, hot pussy, you bury yourself in Jeongyeon’s body as you cum. Thick, hot semen erupts from your cock and into the welcoming walls of her body, your shaft quivering and pulsating with each burst of cum that leaves it. 

 Once you are done you give her a few more shallow thrusts, your still hard shaft pushing the cum deeper and deeper inside her. Every thrust earns a low moan of lust from Jeongyeon as she feels the warm, thick seed being pushed further into the depths of her pussy.

 You hold onto her hips as your orgasm winds down, and you find the strength to keep thrusting a few more times, savouring the feel of the hot mess you’d made inside her. A dark part of you wanted to fuck your hot semen even deeper inside her body, and you give her a few final strokes to ensure that it was as deep inside her pussy as you could put it.

 When your strength finally gives you, you fall forward, still inside her, bracing yourself with your hands on the hood. Jeongyeon is reduced to a weak puddle, breathing heavily as she is pressed against the car. The two of you stay there for a long minute, chests heaving as you slowly recover, both of you savouring the warmth that was still present where your bodies met with you still inside her. Eventually Jeongyeon turns her head just enough so you can watch as she taps the bandage on her cheek with a finger.

 “I guess that was worth this scratch,” she says with a smile.

 ---

 "We're fine, Jihyo. A van pulled up and got us out of there. Momo was in it. She's got her own team now, it looks like."

 "...what?" Jihyo answers, her disbelief plain even on the phone.

 "Yeah, I don't get it either. Momo wasn't exactly forthcoming with the details aside from sounding pretty pissed off that she had to rescue us. Either way, she's brought us to their safehouse. We'll be fine for tonight."

 "Okay," Jihyo answers, still sounding like she was still processing what was going on.

 "What about the data? What about Nayeon?"

 "We have her. I picked her up after you two split up. We're going through the data and the files now. It's pretty... crazy stuff that's in here."

 "Cole's notes?"

 "Lots of stuff on SM's involvement in the YG case. There are other things too, things I should probably show you in person. I don't think we should be on this line right now, we don't know who could be listening."

 "I agree. We're meeting with Momo tomorrow morning to find out what the hell she's been up to and what she was doing at SM today. We'll drop by JYP afterward."

 "Sounds good. I'll send Tzuyu to pick you up in the morning. Be safe."

 "We will."

 With a sigh you hang up the line, dropping your cell phone on the coffee table in front of you and burying your face in your hands. You were sitting in the coffee shop across the street from Momo’s safehouses. Jeongyeon had decided to head to her own suite to shower and rest up, but you weren’t quite as tired and so found yourself grabbing a bite to eat at this cafe.

 There was so much to take in and process - the SM operation, Nayeon's escape and Jeongyeon's decision to put her safety on the line to help you, and of course Momo's reappearance - you could barely make sense of it all.

 It was all going so well; Nayeon had retrieved the data and files she needed and it was only the overly cautious receptionist at the SM office that kept her from achieving her objective without any further fuss. The rest of the mission played out like a movie scene, complete with a run through a crowded mall while being pursued by suited thugs and a getaway car chase through rush hour traffic.

 You were glad that at least the central objective of the operation - retrieval of Irene's files - was complete. You were looking forward to getting the rundown tomorrow from Jihyo as to what they contained and were hopeful that you could find something, anything, that could contribute to bringing down Irene.

 The data and files were certainly a coup, something to be happy about, as was the fact that you and everyone on your team had escaped SM’s clutches with relative safety. But you nonetheless found yourself thinking back to two moments from that afternoon - when Jeongyeon put her own safety on the line to help you, and when Nayeon did the opposite and ran.

 You knew that Nayeon was a consummate professional, and that she always put her job first. You knew that her getting away and making sure the data and files got to Jihyo was the central objective of her operation. She was only accomplishing her objectives, even if it meant leaving you and Jeongyeon to hold off the SM thugs; moreover, you had actually ordered her to run away. She was acting in line with her character and her job.

 So why, then, did it hurt so much to see her run?

 A small part of you, you knew, wanted her to stay; wanted her to say fuck you to completing the mission and instead remain there, with you, subjecting herself to potential capture because she wouldn’t leave you behind, wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone, even if it meant losing the files she had worked so hard to obtain.

 And perhaps that was why seeing Jeongyeon there, standing next to you, ready to put her own safety on the line for your sake, warmed your heart as much as it did. She could have stayed in the van with Jihyo, could have run away at any point in the pursuit - but she stayed. And when the time came to fight, she was right there next to you, a wooden plank in her hands and a glare in her eyes, ready to go down swinging.

 She had asked you that morning to make up your mind about her - to not leave her waiting. She was probably waiting for you now, alone in her apartment room.

 You stand and leave your room, not wanting to have her wait a second longer.

 —-

 Fate, it seemed, had a way of appraising your plans, and, after some deliberation, throwing wrenches in them.

 At the moment fate took the from of Hirai Momo, whom you quite literally ran into as you exited the elevator that took you to the floor of Jeongyeon's apartment room. She is wearing a nondescript black hoodie with the hood up, likely to stay under the radar - but her pale skin and bright eyes were difficult to hide, even despite her best efforts.

 "I was just making sure she was okay," she mutters under her breath as she walks past you to press the elevator call button on the wall. She stands there facing away from you, pulling out her phone in what was obviously an attempt to blatantly ignore the fact that you were standing right there.

 You stand there for a moment in shock. How could a woman you'd once been so close with, one you had loved so dearly and had loved you in return, been reduced to what was now effectively a stranger? Your breakup wasn't perfect - few of them are - but even you were surprised, and a little upset, about the way she was treating you.

 "Momo, we need to talk."

 There is a moment of silence, and then a sigh, as though she too were cursing fate for having her arrive at the elevators just as you were leaving them.

 "About what?" she answers, not bothering to turn to face you.

 "I don't care about the rescue. I don't care about why you were at SM. I just want to know why you're so damn pissed off at me right now."

 Again there is silence. After awhile Momo drops her arms to her sides in a gesture of exasperation. She tilts her head backward, and even though you can't see her face you imagine that she's looking skyward and cursing her luck for having run into you when she did.

 Finally she turns around to face you. And again, you are struck by how a simple thing such as hairstyle can utterly change a person's appearance. Was this really the same Hirai Momo you'd known for almost a decade, the same one you'd been on countless business trips -and just as many passionate nights - all over the world with, the same one you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, up until just a few weeks ago?

 She seemed like a completely different person - and not just in terms of how she wore her hair. Everything about her seemed different, and it hurt you to witness it.

 "I'm pissed off at you because I didn't ask to have you back in my life. I wanted time away from you. So I bottled up the way I felt about you and put it into a locked box and threw that box into the ocean."

 There is a look of anger in her eyes now, the same one she'd had in the van.

 "But," she continues, "you had to go and do something stupid when I was minutes away from finally accomplishing something on my own. And I was forced to save you. And now you're back in my life, and I don't know how to handle it."

 You aren't quite sure how to react to her abrupt confession, and so you don't do anything at all, your mind failing to make sense of the way you felt, never mind coming up with words to articulate it.

 "I thought things were okay between us, Momo," you manage to say.

 "They were," she replies, rubbing her forehead with a hand as though she were fighting off an impending headache, "I was doing fine. I guess...I guess I didn't know I wasn't okay until I saw you again today."

 "We can talk-"

 "No. I don't want to talk. You know me. Words were never my strong suit."

 Silence returns, the seconds passing like hours, the both of you staring intently at the floor as though the answers to your questions were to be found somewhere amidst the patterned tiling. The bell that announces the arrival of the elevator breaks the silence. Momo steps inside and looks back at you.

 "I'm in 31D. If you want, we'll have one night. We can fuck just like we used to. No strings attached. Maybe we talk about you and me. Maybe. Either way, tomorrow you go back to that locked box at the bottom of the ocean."

 The elevator door closes.

 The door to the second elevator opens and an apartment dweller steps out, offering you an awkward nod of greeting which you return. The open and waiting elevator they have just vacated beckons - as does the hallway to Jeongyeon’s room, where she was surely waiting for you.

 You listen to the apartment dweller’s steps fade away down the hallway, leaving you alone to make a choice.