#somewhere along the line someone needs the ad shoved in their face or else the thing is completely invisible

[unforth]

Unpopular opinion: the heavy push toward anti-advertising on Tumblr does nothing to harm the advertisers you hate but is doing a huge amount of damage to small businesses who rely on reblogs to get the word out about their stuff.

[sweetaesuga]

in your eyes | m

pairing: jungkook x female reader!

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, fratboy jk! ex-fuckboy jk! bookworm reader! friends to lovers!

warnings: language, insecurity, drinking, dom jungkook! fingering in public, exhibitionism, female masturbation, grinding, oral (m), dirty talk, light choking, degrading (slut/whore), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (both are clean but stay safe), bathroom sex, riding, pinning.

word count: 10.6k+

synopsis: jungkook always sees you like the only girl in the world, and you just see him as a fuckboy. OR jungkook just wants a chance🥺

↳ a/n: first time i ever write a fic or smut please enjoy🤧 

You were only sixteen when you met him. He stepped into the classroom in all dark baggy clothes in an uneasy walk. At first glance you would of thought he was a timid person. Wrong, under all of that bullshit you see an egoistic and self-assured asshole that you're somehow happy to call your friend. You even learned that it was facade. Jungkook was a boy with a good heart who always remained loyal to all of his friends.

Jungkook just turned seventeen when he met you, noticing you straight away when you had a nice sense of fashion. You always had on an accessory that matched with the color of your shirt or jeans. You also always wore a bit of bright colors in your outfits. The bright unique makeup is what caught his attention too. He was proud to call you his friend.

When you both happily entered the same college along with your best friend Hayoon, everything changed. He began hanging out with a new group of friends, they were all older than them and deeply influenced him. He joined a fraternity then and began spending less time with you. He only came over to study or celebrate your birthday. His busyness merely reminded you how he preferred to spend his time hooking up with random girls every week rather than play board games with you or rant to him about your new book you were reading.

You don't exactly remember when he started but you do remember all the girls that talked about how amazing he was in bed which solely added more uncertainty on you. You even walked in on him and a freshman girl going at it in one of the sorority’s room at a party you were both attending.

The memory of when he started crushing on you was foggy to you but he always remembered it in a flash. It was when he had a taekwondo match, where circumstantially Jungkook's girlfriend, who wasn't really his girlfriend, at the time couldn't make it. His hopes were put down by the thought of someone not supporting him, since he always tried his best with his own cheerleader being there.

In the middle of the match, his eyes scanned the bleachers, wishing for someone to be there. His wishes were granted as he saw you there. Standing awkwardly, you gave him a little wave with a smile. His chest heaved in glee, sending you a quick smile before he returned to his match.

The sound of you screaming his name when he won, put a enormous smile on his face. Jungkook watched you run down the bleachers, apologizing to all the people you were bumping through. You leaped into his arms easily.

Your next words to him were a blur since Jungkook was too focused on just having you in his arms. He was grinning happily at you, hair sticking to his forehead. His heart heaved with warmth as you hugged him tightly.

He was twenty-one and you were twenty when he realized he had a crush on you.

You were seventeen when you realized you liked him.

But you were nineteen when you realized you would never be good enough for him.

"He then had the audacity to ask me if I slept with anyone else! The nerve of that guy," you felt like your ear was going to bleed out just by listening to your best friend blabber about her ex-boyfriend.

"Why don't you just stop talking to him? I don't know...block his number or something?" you suggested, very uninterested in this conversation about her ex-boyfriend contacting her. She could simply just block him out her life and be done with him. 

You stared at the worn out rubber of the tip of your black converse. She popped the gum in her mouth, the sound became annoying to you. Hayoon squinted her eyes at you, trying to find something to say to argue back to you. She instead changed the subject. "Where were you on Saturday?"

"Studying like the rest of the students here," you moved to rest your weight onto your right leg. "I just can't seem to understand how finals are coming up and some people are out here partying? The library was packed when I got there."

"Yeah well I wouldn't know because I didn't go," she grinned at you. "Instead I went to a party because I'm not a loser like you!" Hayoon giggled to herself and you rolled your eyes. "Also," she popped the gum loudly. "Jungkook was asking for you. Calling for his dream girl. . .or something like that—I don't know can't remember—too drunk you know?"

Your ears perked up to that. "Really?" you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that got in the way and leaned forward. "Did you remember why he was looking for me?"

Hayoon grinned again. "Even if I do know why would you care? Don't you hate him or something?" she smiled evilly and threw her head back.

You froze and leaned back to your seat. You know what she was trying to do and it was never going to happen.

You were never going to give Jeon Jungkook a chance.

Jungkook stumbled into the library, eyes searching for you immediately. There was nearly a crowd of students that were preparing for finals. "Hey have you guys seen Y/N?" he asked a study group. A girl in your class answered him, telling him that you were somewhere by the windows.

Of course you were, he thought to himself. You would be seated at your usual spot. He walked over to the windows and spotted you straight away. Watching your figure become closer as he walked further, he took the sandwich out of his bag. "Hey Y/N!" you already knew that voice. You looked up at Jungkook. As usual he looked drop-dead gorgeous. He wore his usual dark baggy outfit, a black cargo jogger and a much darker hoodie with some black combat boots. He was showing off his helix piercing and his fresh new haircut.

"Nice haircut," you referred to his undercut and the fact that he was showing forehead. "Seems like you spent a lot of time on it."

"Yeah! Just for you," he smiled, his cheeks being pushed up. You let out a heavy sigh, clearly not in the mood for his flirtatiousness. "Got you a sandwich, by the way," he laid it in front of you.

You let out a small smile and took it from him, trying not to show how your mouth got watery so quickly. "Thanks, you didn't have to though," he shook his head.

"I don't want you starving to death," he sat down next to you, shoulder pressing against yours. "What are you studying for?" his nose nuzzled your ear. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away, ignoring the goosebumps his warm breath caused.

"Just getting my notes ready. Wanna highlight or color code it but feel like it's going to fuck up everything. Also don't wanna be those fucking girls that always have to make their fucking notes pretty. Also, do I look tired?" he studied your face for any features that made you seem exhausted. "I was up till two in morning watching these two Indian guys build a pool."

His eyes lit up. "Oh my god, I come across from those too."

"I know they came up all over my fucking Youtube recommendations. I got sucked into binge watching them. It makes me feel fucking lazy to be honest, the amount of fucking water they carry back and forth. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Jungkook snickered and made a note of how much you swore. "I need to make a swear jar for you. You swear too much."

"Not even," you laughed back at him and nudged his shoulder. "I'm just a little frustrated and stressed right now," his gaze dropped on the purple pins in your hair, holding each side of your hair. "I called my mom and she said to not stress over this, but you know how I get," you frowned and turned to him. He finally took in your appearance. Your bright purple eyeshadow with purple gems adorning the top of it. You wore a purple flare pants and a white long sleeved, deep v-line crop top. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, trying to see if you had a bra on.

"Holy shit Y/N!" the students around him shushed him. He burned up and muttered a sorry to them, you giggled at how embarrassed he looked. "You look amazing. What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," you shook your head, a smile still on your face. "Can't I dress up once in awhile?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, knowing that you normally only wear outfits like this when they’re new or it’s the first week of school. "Okay," you dragged your word out. "I got this outfit last week and really wanted to use it today. It's cute right?"

"Yeah, really cute," he toyed with your hair pins, messing up your hair.

Neglecting his comment, you carried on. "I even got up in early in the morning to do my makeup. If I'm gonna show up wearing a new outfit, I might as well have a cute ass face to go with it," you frowned when you remembered something. "And I realized I don't have different color hair pins, they're all purple so thank fuck the fucking pants are purple."

"Well I think you look very cute, Y/N. Boop!" he poked your nose gently. You swatted his hand away, warning him to stop but all you're given is a large bunny smile. "Come on, eat your sandwich. I didn't just come all the way over here searching for you just to talk to you."

"Actually you did bitch."

"Oof, swear jar," he rested his palm out in front you. You took a bite out of the sandwich, placing a quarter on his palm. "No a dollar, Y/N."

"No! What the fuck—wait!" he held out his palm again. "That's not fucki—hold up, you can't just say a dollar," you whined and grabbed your bag. "I don't have money growing out of my ass."

"I don't know that yet. I'm gonna have to check to make sure," you threw a dollar at him. He laughed and picked it up.

"I know your kind," you spatted at him and tossed the other two dollars at him which he easily caught. "Wanna drain my f-freaking bank account."

"Oh come on, I want you to be my sugar mama," he jested, leaning forward to give you a huge smug.

"Sucks to be you actually. I'm looking to be a sugar baby, not a sugar mama," you glanced over your shoulder towards him. His laugh echoed and you watched as students gave him a dirty look from how loud it was.

"Of course. You're the brokest bitch in the city no one actually wants you to be their sugar mama," you gasped at his words.

"Am not!"

"Are so!" you both laughed at each other. His hand searched for yours underneath the table. He must've noticed how tensed up you had gotten when he found it, managing to wrap your smaller fingers into his. "I've been meaning to talk to you by the way."

You groaned, knowing where this will be going. "Jungkook, stop I'm not in the mood," you caught a quick glimpse of the time. "Look, I have to go, my bus will be coming soon." You don't let him mention anything else. Bolting out of the library, you leave a crestfallen Jungkook behind.

He shook his head and took the half eaten sandwich you also left behind. He trailed behind you, backpack threatening to fall down his arm. You proceeded to walk to the bus stop, Jungkook just close behind. "Didn't see you at the party on Saturday?" the voice came from behind you. You opt to ignore it but by the sound of his voice it was easy to tell that he has been dying to ask this question. When you didn't answer him, he tried again. "Seriously where were you on Saturday?"

You sunk down on the bench. "None of your business."

"Well, I was kind of worried about you. I thought you were going to be there so that's why I came," he took a seat right besides you. "Once I saw you weren't there, I left."

"I was at the library studying for finals," you weren't sure why you were telling him this.  After his little confession your heart felt weird. If you hadn't told him though, he probably would've guessed it. Still, he needed confirmation.

"What? Why didn't you tell me? We could’ve studied together!" he complained, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook stop, I know what you're doing," you glared at him, wanting to get away. He frowned and reached over to hold you. "I already told you no," you hissed, disregarding the way his eyes appeared sunken at your response.

"Why not? I already told you, I'm not messing around anymore. I genuinely want to settle down with someone," he stared into your eyes with such intensity you felt like your brain was going to explode. Your ears took in his words slowly. "I want to be with you."

"Jungkook, please—"

"Come on, one date. I swear to god I've changed," he ranted. He's always been very keen on having a chance with you, but with all those girls that he used to take home you felt otherwise. You would listen to the girls on how good Jungkook was. How good he looked at night in the dark moonlight. How he would manhandle them in random places. How his muscles would appear every time he flexed them. How those hips of his were a miracle. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't ever want to see him that way too.

"I'm flattered, I really am—I just really don't want to be with someone like you. I'm sorry," you apologized, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He blinked then squinted his eyes at you. "What do you mean someone like me?" He sounded somewhat offended at your words.

"You used to fuck around!" you fumed and threw your hands up. The bus was coming down the road towards the two of you. "I don't like that."

"Why not?" He's way too stubborn to let you go, you forgot.

"Because...I just don't okay? Lets leave it there," you stood up and walked over to the bus once it opened its doors. He followed close behind. Before you can enter your dollar into the machine, he does it for you.

The bus driver smiled at him while you glared at him. You walked to the back of the bus, smiling to all the other passengers but secretly upset. Jungkook still followed you like a lost puppy. You slid down in the seat. Your left arm feeling the side of the bus once you properly sat down. "Here, I'll pay you back," you hold out the dollar bill but he sat still in his seat.

"Well shit, sugar mama not right now," You sighed and put it back in your bag. You heard him snort.

"Come on, tell me why you won't give me a chance and I'll leave you alone," he offered. He held your eyes for a moment before you let out a breath of air and looked away.

If he’ll leave you alone, then you must have to say why you won’t grant him a chance with you, a chance for him to become your boyfriend.

"I'm too insecure for you," he opened his mouth but you shushed him. "I'm not...how do I put this? I'm not like them?" you questioned and glanced over at him. He had a look of worry washed all over his face. "The girls that you were with are those who are all popular, party all day, and are very attractive. They all do casual sex, and I don't want be that type of person, I want something serious. Like you have dated Soojin! She's really pretty, makes me gay even," you chuckled at yourself. "That's not the point though. If I'm with you, all I could ever think about is the girls you were with and how different I am from them. I just can't be with someone when all I'll ever think about are my insecurities with them. So how could I possibly ever be good enough for you?" you don't look at him after that.

He sighed and gripped your small hand into his. You almost cringed when you remembered how sweaty your hands were. "That's why I'm after you though. You're not like them. I wanted a change. You are good enough, you'll always be good enough for me. Hell, I feel like I’m not good enough for you. And I really don't care if you're any of that other stuff. I still want to have a shot with you." you don't realize how long you both were holding eye contact. The two of you don't look away from each other however. You don’t even comprehend how close you two have gotten. He reached over to push back a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched.

"I don't know Jungkook, I'm just really unsure," you admitted and leaned back in your seat to create some distance between you two. "My mind isn't clear right now but I highly doubt I would want to give you a chance."

"Really? You don't want me?" he bit his lip and glanced over at you. "How can I change your mind?" you stopped functioning when he reached over to press up against your thigh. His fingers travelled over to your inner thigh. He kept rubbing circles around there for a few minutes, hand drawing closer each time. Your cheeks grew crimson once you wrapped your mind around on how wet you become so quickly, and he barely even touched you what an embarrassment.

You were only getting aroused quickly because of how long your dry spell was. You haven’t being touched in so long that you craved it so much, no matter who it was with.

"What are you doing?" you hated how you felt so hot under his eyes at the moment. He brushed you aside until you repeated your question again.

"Nothing," his lips curved upwards. He faced forward, ignoring the fact that his hand was practically between your legs.

"Jungkook, stop that!" you hissed and whacked his hand away. He withdrew his hand from your inner thigh but still kept it at the top of your thigh. His thumb gently tracing circles into your skin.

"Bet you're fucking wet under that," he commented. You caught his stare, watching his eyes fixed on your cleavage. A smile forms across his face when he takes notice of how you're rubbing your thighs together. "Don't be scared, I'll go easy on you. You wearing those pink panties that I love on you?"

You knew what he was referring to. Leaving your laundry on your bed wasn't a good idea especially when an excited Jungkook was coming over to watch a new episode of You, but he didn't give you time to pick it up so your baby pink lace underwear was out on the sheets. "Shut up. I'm not going to let you do shit," you furiously crossed your arms over your chest. His eyes flickered back down to your breasts that were shoved up into a tighter position.

"Really? You say that but you're on the verge of asking me to touch you. I know it, Y/N," you bit your lip hard to avoid saying something. You heard him laugh. "It's okay, no one will notice, if you're a good slut and keep your mouth shut." Your eyes widened at his words.

You’ve never been called a degrading name in bed. With the two boyfriends you’ve been with, they always called you loving names that had gotten boring quick as well as their vanilla sex. Yet somehow it stirred you up at the thought of being called a slut, especially Jungkook calling you that.

But it was almost like a completely different Jungkook had surfaced. You knew he was some sort of sex god but didn't expect him to have such a dirty mouth. You decided to test the waters. A little fun wouldn’t hurt.

You spread your legs a little wider, inviting him to get closer. He stared into your eyes as you stared down at his hand. "Unbutton your pants," he demanded. Your eyes expanded even more at his words. You were just thinking of getting him eager not to do something here.

You looked around to see if anyone could see or hear you two but they were all facing forward and minding their own business. Your hands went to unbutton your pants, pushing your zipper down. "Open your legs," you did as you were told. "Wider, wider," your right leg rested on top of his muscular thigh. "You wet enough?" he asked, reaching down to your core. You shivered when his hand entered your underwear. He sinks his two fingers in and you whined. He took his fingers out, gazing on the glistening wetness on it.

"Dirty fucking slut," he murmured and dig his fingers back into you. You gripped his wrist harshly but encouraged him to add more fingers. He complied and proceeded to finger you in the back of the bus. "Never thought I would finger the girl of my dreams in the back of the bus," he chuckled as he heard you calling out his name. "You gotta be quiet if you don't wanna get caught." he teased softly. He pounded his fingers into you faster. His eyes laying upon your furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip. You began to nudge into his fingers, meeting him halfway with the movement of your hips. Your grip on his wrist tightened as he touched your clit with the tip of his finger. He snorted and proceeded to move against you, ignoring his hardness that was forming in his pants. You threw your head back and stared up at the ceiling. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing blood.

Jungkook clutched your knee, forcing you to open wider. You raked over the passengers in the seat, who are still unaware of you getting fingered at the back of the bus. You moaned into his hoodie. You let go of his wrist to hold his bicep. He looked down at you. He reached over to cup your face, bringing your lips to meet his. You’re taken back a little but nonetheless you open your mouth to tempt him to slid his mouth in. He fulfilled your craving. The two of you looked like random teenagers making out in the back but what they couldn't see was his fingers stuck up your wet core.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you said under your breath, pulling away from his redden lips. His fingers pounded brutally into you. He showed no sign of slowing down.

"You make a fucking noise and I swear to god I will take you on this bus full of people. I don't give a fuck, Y/N," your pussy quenched around him at that. Your wetness glimmered on his fingers.

"Oh my god, Jungkook, oh my god," you moaned against his neck. Hiding your face from him, you picked up the pace of your hips. "Uh—fuck, holy shit do that again," you referred to him touching your clit. He does that again. "Oh fuck," you whimpered when you felt an uneasy feeling building up within you. "I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Yeah? That fucking early? I knew your little pussy wouldn't be able to take it," Jungkook's lips formed a smirk. "And this is just with my fingers babe. Bet you can't handle my dick," you ignored him. You sobbed into his neck and leaned up to kiss him in efforts to silence your moans, cumming hard all over his fingers. It takes two minutes before you released Jungkook from the kiss. He drew his hand away from your skirt and made sure you were holding eye contact with him when he cleaned his fingers with his tongue.

You gulped. Reality finally hit you. You had let Jungkook finger you in the back of the bus. 

You pushed back against your seat and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Everyone on the bus was still unaware and you felt like you can breathe again. "Holy shit I can not believe we just did that," you brushed your hair back, somewhat disappointed at yourself for not stopping him.

Jungkook's smile surfaced. "I can't believe you just let me do that. Wanna return the favor?" he asks jokingly but watched your face to see if you were willing to suck him off. His hopes are put down when a frown appeared on your face and he could tell you wouldn't feel comfortable with that. "Joking babe."

"Don't call me that, please," you stressed. "This was a mistake, seriously don't ever speak of this with any of your friends. We're not going to speak of it either."

"I wasn't even going to," he muttered and looked away. "Funny how it's a mistake, Y/N, when you were over here telling me to keep going."

You fanned yourself, flapping your hand back and forth in front of your face. Jungkook looked at the layer of sweat near your hairline that glistened under the sunlight. "Stop, it was in the heat of the moment. It seriously was a mistake," he opened his mouth but you carried on. "Especially in the back of the bus, oh god, I'm really disappointed in myself," you zipped up your flare pants, not minding that your underwear is sticking to you.

"And I'm really disappointed in you too, for not giving me a chance," Jungkook said with knitted eyebrows. You sit away from him, making sure there was a good amount of space between the two of you. "Oh are you just going to ignore me now?" he isn't given a response, your tongue knotted together in your mouth. "So that's how it's gonna be now?"

You gathered your bag. The bus curving towards the upcoming bus stop. "This is my stop," you disclosed. He captured your forearm which quickly caught your attention.

"Don't be like this, Y/N." You shrug him off and walked out of the bus, leaving Jungkook and his gloomy thoughts behind.

"Shut up, stop playing with me!" Hayoon exclaimed, her eyes glimmered with interest as you filled her in on the day before. "You did not let Jungkook finger you on the back of the bus," she laughed out loud at her sentence, still not believing the words coming out of your mouth. You groaned and sunk your head back down on the table. "I mean gross, but hey, you're catching dick."

"I'm not catching dick, and stop saying it's gross it makes me even more disappointed in myself."

"I just don't understand how you can tell him you don't want him and tell him the reasons why and then let him finger you at the back of the bus?!" your face scrunched up at her words. "I seriously don't get it Y/N. It's like you're provoking the guy that's going after you and that's pretty fucked up. Play with his dick, not his emotions, oh wait—”

"I told him no multiple times."

"Then why the fuck would you let him finger you in the back of a bus?" Hayoon rubbed her temple before munching on a fry. "I think you do have a crush on him, you just don't want to date him because of all the girls he’s been with.”

You let her words settle in your mind for a moment, not even realizing that she held your hand in hers. "But baby, that's called the past. It's the least thing you got to worry about since you already know it. Take a risk, go out with him. He's ready to be in a serious relationship with you, he's been telling me this since Friday."

You sighed, lips forming a pout. "I don't know."

"Well make up your mind quick cause' he's coming this way," her words are rushed as she glanced over at Jungkook, who's heading over your way.

"What?!" you're just about to turn your head his direction when Hayoon grabbed your jaw.

"What are you doing you stupid bitch?! Don't look—okay, pretend like I'm not here, pretend like I'm not here!" she turned away from you and placed her earbuds in her ears.

"Wait does my hair look good?!" you caught her by the arm before she can leave.

"For who?"

You snapped her head towards Jungkook, who's already smiling at you. His black cap floated over his eyes as he dug his fingers into the pockets of his jogger pants. You coughed when you perceived that you were checking him out. "Um, no one. Just wanted to see if it's messy," you don't know why but your cheeks burned so hard, maybe at the fact that you know it is messy.

His hand came in contact with your head before he moved a strand of your hair that looked out of place before pushing your baby hairs down. You swatted his hands away, ignoring how your warm ears were tingling. "There, it's not that messy anymore. I brought something."

He sat down besides you. You eyes fluttered over to Hayoon. She spread a smirk out on her lips. While Jungkook continued finding the item he wanted to show you, something along the words that it was a jar. Her fist comes up besides her mouth, opening it slightly. Your cheeks become crimson when she began to push her left fist towards her mouth while her tongue kept knocking into her right cheek.

"Here," Jungkook placed a jar in front of you, the bright glittery letters mocking you. Swear Jar, it read at the front. "Every time you cuss, it's more money to my bank account."

Your lips loop downwards into a frown. Your eyebrows furrowed together in the progress. "Not fair, I told you I didn't want to be a sugar mama."

"Fine, this is both of our swear jar."

"Deal."

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, we can talk about yesterday," he put the glittery jar, he decorated last night for you, back in his backpack. A sudden weight pressed down on your shoulders at the thought of him bringing up what happened yesterday.

"Jesus Christ, what do you carry in there?" Hayoon added unintentionally and you're thankful for that. As much as she wanted to know about the encounter between the two of you, she also wanted to know what Jungkook carried in that big bag of his.

"Dildos."

"Wait, deadass?" she jumped up in her seat. I snorted at her, earning a glare. Jungkook's lips formed a line, specifying that he was joking. "Well fuck, it just looks like it's gonna break your back. Dude you know what that reminds me of?" she asked you. Your mind doesn't come across anything so you shook your head. "The Rosie girl? She was giving dildos out at this campus cause' she wanted to, quote, fight absurdity with absurdity. All over Twitter. Wish I could be there to get one."

Jungkook's eyes crinkled up as he laughed at her. The sound ringing through your ears, only to devaste you even more. "Can we talk about yesterday?" he leaned over and whispered to you.

You swore you felt his lips brushing against your ear. It stirred up your brain. "What about yesterday?" your hands started shaking and you hoped he didn't see how anxious you have become.

Luck wasn't on your side today however, his upcoming question boosting your anxiety even more. "Why are your hands shaking so much?" he grasped his bigger hand in yours.

You are quick to take it out of his. "We agreed that we wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday. It was a mistake I didn't—"

"No, you agreed that we wouldn't talk about it," his voice raised slightly to get your attention. Your mouth snapped shut. "We need to talk about it. How the fuck can you be playing with my feelings like this?" Hayoon whistled, mentally seeing eye to eye with Jungkook. "I want to have a chance with you, a shot at us. You give me all these mixed signals and then when I try to make a move on you, all of the sudden you act like a bitch Y/N."

"Well what do you want me to say? That I fucking like you back too?" you challenged and stood up from your chair. The students around you turned their heads over to you, watching the scene in front of them unfold. "How the fuck am I even playing with your feelings? I said I wanted to just be friends! I'm sorry that you're misinterpreted our friendship but that's not my problem!" you wished you could've shut your mouth but all you could see was red. Perhaps you were letting go of all the rage you’ve ever resented over him for the past months.

For ditching you to attend parties or being with other girls. For not always being there for you.

"What the fuck do you mean that's not my problem?!" he mimicked you, staring up at you. "You let me finger you and you expect me to believe that you just wanna be friends? Are you even listening to yourself?! You felt something back there."

Hayoon stepped in, walking over to the two of you. "Okay, I think you guys should just shut up," your eyes wandered around the room, where everyone was watching your interaction.

"Whatever," Jungkook's chair scraped the floor harshly as he pushed it back. He dug into his backpack before placing the jar in front of you. "You can keep that and this," he put down a package full of glittery hair pins, all different colors. Your heart wrenched as you watched him walk away, sullen. His steps are quick so he can take the attention off of him.

You turned the jar and saw that the top had words on it. Splattered in messy pink glitter, Sugar Mama's Swear Jar :D.

Jungkook was avoiding you. You could tell because he stopped coming after school to study with you, which was okay at first until you found yourself yearning for him.

It was stupid, really. After all that debate on how you two should just stay friends, you can't just tell him how much you miss him. That'll make you seem like an ass.

And trust me that's the last thing you want.

Your day was going bad, your professor yelled at you for not paying attention and put you in the spot, embarrassing you in front of the class. You were okay until a girl gave you a look of pity and you had a breakdown in the bathroom right after.

When you went to go meet up with Hayoon, it'll only got worse. She cancelled on you after forcing you to wait for her for thirty minutes. Just as you're leaving a group of middle schoolers thought it would be funny to step on a ketchup packet and let splatter everywhere, resulting in the back of your white top covered in dots of ketchup.

You swore you almost hit the kid who came up with it, even thought about running him over when you saw that the stains were everywhere and even in your hair.

After showering and getting the ketchup out of your hair, you went to work that ensued in you coming home with mascara practically running down your eyes, that were ready to pour out tears if something else happened to you, due to you wrongly mixing up orders and getting yelled out by a customer.

Now here you were, sitting on the living room floor with wet hair after taking another shower which mainly just involved you sitting on the tile floor and crying. You ate the Chinese takeout you have gotten during the way, ignoring the way people were staring at you, with sympathy.

It was the last thing you needed. Maybe karma was coming to get you for saying those things to Jungkook. But at this point all you wanted was some reassurance, a shoulder to cry on, someone to be there for you.

Jungkook.

You couldn't sleep. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Hell, you even closed your eyes for a solid thirty minutes yet you were not able to drift off into slumber. Maybe it had to due with the weather? It was freezing, if you stepped a foot outside you would become an ice sculpture in an instant.

Or maybe, the most logical one compared to all the others, was Jungkook fingering you on the bus. You can't seem to get that scene off your mind. Your brain kept drifting over on how stunning he appeared, his dark eyes staring straight at yours as he watched your mouth form an O shape. He only ever broke eye contact when he snuck a look of how his fingers vanished into your pants.

Then your mind would stumble onto the memory of you yelling at him, telling him how his feelings for you were not your fault. You despised yourself at that moment. You sighed and laid back into your pillow, staring up into the ceiling. "I can't believe I am even having these types of thoughts," you slowly opened your legs while shutting your eyes. As long as you don't think about him, it'll be okay.

But you do. Sliding off your underwear, the first thing you thought about was Jungkook. His bunny smile rested on his face. You opened your eyes to get him off your mind and closed them again. You let out a gentle moan when you feel how wet you are.

He came back again. This time he settled right besides you on the bed. His hand is shoved between your legs. You moaned when he buried his head in your neck and kissed your skin there. "You like that, princess?"

You frowned immediately, he didn't call you any pet names. From what you can remember, he called you a degrading name.

"You like that dirty slut?" you mewled at him. He moved his fingers ceaselessly inside of you whilst breathing down your neck.

The sound of a zipper being undone makes your eyes crack open. You took a glimpse of Jungkook, his hand disappearing inside his jeans that displayed his muscular thighs.

You whined at him and he hovered on top of you. Your breathing got heavier as his cock sprung out of his jeans. "Oh god," you moaned as he slid himself inside of you so effortlessly. Your hands moved quicker inside of you. Feeling your wetness spill out of you and onto the mattress underneath you, you imagined him pounding into you. Your hands clamped on his long hair with your legs in the air as his hips furiously snapping into you.

It doesn't take you long to cum, given the fact at Jungkook's pace it seemed like he wasn't going to stop. He disappeared, leaving you sweaty and tired on the bed with your fingers stuck inside you. "Holy shit, I can not believe I just did that.

Recalling your words that were thrown at Jungkook, a heavy weight on your shoulder returned heavier as ever, reminding you how you practically lost your shot with him.

Shame on you for not giving Jeon Jungkook a chance.

"I think I was too harsh on him."

"You think? Don't lie to me bitch, you know you were fucking harsh on him," Hayoon stood in the middle of your room, scanning your closet for a dress she can wear to a party.

It was almost three days since your argument with Jungkook in front of everyone. You expected to make up with him on Thursday but Jungkook avoided you like you were the plague. He didn't text you for any notes he needed to borrow, nor did he usually come to study with you or leave you a sandwich. You never realized how apart of your life he became, especially when he didn't sit next to you for one of your shared classes. Instead, he chose to sit next to Taehyung, his best friend. It was Friday now and to be quite honest, you missed him.

"Don't trip about it. He could be at the party tonight, getting over you and possibly getting himself a girlfriend so you don't have to worry about him pinning over you. Now what the fuck should I wear?"

You didn't like the sound of that. Jungkook possibly finding another girl. Your consciousness settled back in your mind. How can you even say shit like that? You rejected him, you have no right to tell him not to move on. You sighed to yourself and laid back into the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't wanna see him."

"I don't wanna see him." she dragged the straps of your orange dress up her figure. "Shut up because on Wednesday you kept asking why he wouldn't talk to you, like bitch I wouldn't talk to you either with that shit you pulled back there."

"Why not?"

"You're not serious right?" she turned back to you. She raised her eyebrow, challenging you. You groaned and followed her out of the room when she didn't receive an answer. "That's what I thought," you heard her under her breath.

"Not gonna lie, I think I'm gonna break my ankle with these bitches," you pointed down at your high heels, slowing down. You stopped to fix them. Hayoon carried on walking to her car, leaving you behind.

"You wanted to wear them. Now get in," she honked her horn. You hissed at her, reminding her that the neighbors are going to complain. "Don't give a fuck, get in loser we're going to party!" she honked her horn longer.

You ran to her car when you realized she wasn't going to stop. "You need the swear jar, you stupid bitch."

"Not even," before you could say something back, her music blasts through the car. She screamed out the lyrics, encouraging you to join along. "In your eyes! You lie but I don't let it define you—oh define you!"

"You sound like a dying cat."

"I tried to find—fuck you then."

Along the way you started to wonder how she even got her driver's license. Hayoon almost went on the sidewalk when she was tried to park which forced you to get out of the car and direct her.

"Keep going, keep going."

"Fuck, bitch you sure? I don't want another ticket for being on the red line," her head stuck out to make sure she wasn't going to hit the car behind her.

"Yes I'm sure—okay stop!" Hayoon shuts off the engine, stumbling out of the car. She laughed to herself before walking up to the fraternity house with you. "Okay, I forgot what it was like coming here."

The first smell that filled your nostrils was vomit. You glanced down towards the ground and saw a distraught girl on the front lawn throwing up while her friend rubbed her back. Hayoon advised you not to look, to give the poor girl some pity. Reluctantly, you entered the house with a clumsy walk. Hayoon noticed and suggested that you go have a drink. You at first declined but once your eyes scanned the room and landed on Jungkook leaning against a wall with a redhead clinging onto him. You made your way to the open kitchen. Unknown to you, jealousy boiled in your stomach.

So that's how you end up on your first shot of a tequila with a cup of vodka already resting in your liver. You weren't drunk, still you were not far from being tipsy. Conscious enough to see that Jungkook's eyes were on you while you downed the shot. Eyes focused on your throat as you swallowed. He exhaled, watching you pull out your phone and tap away. The red head girl right besides him, tried calling his name out to hook his attention. He brushed her off, muttering something to her that he didn't sleep around anymore.

His frustration grew even more when he saw you wandering over to the middle of the room where sweaty bodies were grinding on each other. Your flimsy black silky dress was not doing him justice either, seeing how tight it was on your figure. It showed off your curves well; he hated how good you looked. There was a big opening in the back that stopped near your hips. Should be a crime to look that good, he thought to himself while trying to keep his eyes on you.

Your hips swayed to the music blasting throughout the house. You opened your eyes, landing on Jungkook immediately. His eyes devouring you as he took a sip of his beer, eyes locked on your hips. You tried not to look at him again but still wondered what was going in that mind of his. You raised your hands up in the air, dress threatening to rise up.

Your curiosity got the best of you. Squinting one eye open to take a peek of Jungkook but you failed to locate him.

A gasp left your mouth as someone pressed their front on your back, rubbing their crotch on your ass. A whiff of the sweet scented Victoria Secret perfume gave the identity away. You tilted your head so that it laid on his chest. Confirming your thought, Jungkook stared down at you with dark eyes. His arm muffled around your waist to press you further into his chest. He felt his body go ease when he saw your lips bunch up into a smile. Your hips rocked from side to side on him. Jungkook held his hand on your waist, encouraging you to continue. You willingly do so arms flinging on his neck as you dragged yourself down his chest. His growing bulge poked your ass as you grind yourself on him. Your head laid back on him. Jungkook leaned down to meet your lips. His mouth entwined with yours, lip gloss rubbing off onto his mouth. You moaned into his mouth and sensed that his hand was harshly holding one of your ass cheeks.

"You wanna go upstairs?" He was somewhat taken back at your suggestion but agreed nonetheless. With his fingers keeping a firm grip on yours, the two of you went upstairs.

He guided you towards the room, which all winded up preoccupied due to freshman trying to lose their virginities. You cringed when you come face to face with someone's bare ass pushing against the lanky girl. Jungkook pushed you into the bathroom, telling a man to fuck off when he tried getting in.

"Hey," you glanced up from the floor onto Jungkook's eyes. He offered you a small awkward smile, warming your heart as if he wasn't rubbing his dick on your ass a few minutes ago.

"Hi," your voice sounded very small and Jungkook wanted to reach out and reassure you that he only came up to you to apologize, not to have you grind on him in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," you began, eyes fixed to the ground. "Everything I said on that day was really fucked up. I care about your feelings. I care about you and I was giving you mixed signals and it's not okay."

"I'll be fine," his hand held your arm, rubbing it slightly. "It's okay if you don't return my feelings, I'll get over it—"

"But that's the thing I don't want you to get over it."

Jungkook blinked once, twice, and then another third time. Trying to comprehend your words while also trying to figure out what he was going to say was hard.

Your glossy lips moved. "I'm really willing to give you a chance and I'm so sorry for being such a cunt about it. I just—I needed some realization to understand my feelings. Truth is I've had a crush on you, but every time I saw you with these girls I always told myself I'm not good enough for you and that I'll never be. I’m also mad at the fact that you’re barely realizing your feelings towards me just now.”

He doesn't say anything which doesn't help your anxious state at the moment. Your gut scolded you, reminding you that you probably lost your chance and now you look like an idiot to him right now, confessing your feelings.

Jungkook sighed before embracing you. You stand still in shock from his sudden movements but chose to hug him back. His chin dropped down onto your head. "You're good enough for me, Y/N. You always have been and I'm sorry that it took me all these years for me to realize that."

"I couldn't stop thinking of you and all the shit I said. I'm really sorry from the bottom of my heart," you admitted.

His bulge pushed against you and your cheeks flushed warm. Jungkook didn't say anything but bent down to kiss you. His lips moved roughly against yours. Your fingers coming up towards his hair to run through them. His hands digging harshly into your ass, possibly leaving small bruises behind but you're unbothered by it.

You pulled away, enough to stare up at his eyes. "I seriously couldn't stop thinking about you. I fucking masturbated to you, just by thinking of the bus shit," you confessed, watching his face lit up in surprise.

"Yeah? What was going on in that head of yours?" he encouraged you. You giggled at him, his thigh coming between your thighs.

"Your fingers in my pussy," your cheeks burned pink as he coaxed you to go on. "Your big dick pounding in me."

The look on his face is priceless but it just stayed there for a mere second as Jungkook recollected himself. He couldn't believe what was coming out of your mouth, never in a million years would he ever imagine you of all people saying this. The warmth travelled towards his crotch as he hardened at your words. His friend of seven years, his crush for almost two years was here in front of him, revealing that she touched herself to the thought of him. A blissful comfort spread all over his body.

"Don't you want that to happen?" he didn't even realize how close you were, he was too caught up in his thoughts. "You don't want to fuck my brains out?"

Your thighs closed around his thick ones. You reached up to kiss his neck, pecking his soft skin. Jungkook grunted as you left open mouth kisses behind, gripping his hand and directing it near your hips.

"I can't do it here," Jungkook whispered to you once he grasped the circumstances. In a fraternity bathroom with people out there that can possibly hear you two? Jungkook would never allow himself to touch you here the first time you two have sex. You whined against him, rubbing your crotch on his thigh. "Shit, seriously Y/N? You're making this hard for me."

"What your dick? Why? I don't care where we do it. I just—I need it to happen—come on Jungkook fuck me," if your mind wasn't clouded by lust you would been very disappointed at yourself for what you were saying, but you could care less. He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He was fighting with himself.

The only sound in the bathroom was the loud heavy bass music playing and the two of you heavily breathing. "Do you want me to go find another guy out there that can do the job for you or what?" you tried riling him up and it worked cause Jungkook was staring at you with dark hooded eyes. "Cause' I could walk out there and take any guy home with me do you want that?" you both know deep down you wouldn’t be able to do that. You’re too shy.

Jungkook came across as if something possessed him suddenly. His hair falling over his eyes slightly. His tongue came out of his mouth to moisten his lips. "Get on your fucking knees," Jungkook snapped, a hand going back to get tangled in your hair. You dropped down to the ground. "I wanna see your pretty tits," you pulled down the straps of your dress and got rid of your strapless bra, throwing it aside. "Well aren't you a desperate cock sucking whore?" you whined at him with your dress bunched up around your waist. "What don't tell me you like being called that?" he chuckled. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation.

You reached over to unzip his jeans. He merely let out a chuckle, extremely satisfied with your avidity. As you rolled down his boxers, his hand wrapped around your hair. "Look up at me, whore," your eyes jerked up to him. "Open your mouth," you gulped at the size, wondering if it was even going to fit in your poor mouth. He teased, rubbing the head of his cock on your lips when you did. Your jaw ached as you tried opening as wide as you can to please him. You looked up at him as he slid his cock in your mouth. He groaned, loving the warmth and wetness of your mouth surrounding him. He maintained the eye contact between you two whilst he carried on shoving his dick in your throat. You moaned and moved back once it hit your throat. But before you can, he gripped the back of your hair firmly and thrusted his hips forward. You gagged around him, tears brewing and ready to burst out. You extended your hands out to his thighs. He held your head in place, his cock shoving down your throat at an animalistic speed. "What a good little slut," he eventually praised you. "Letting me fuck her throat hard and shit," you shut your eyes.

You regret doing so. Feeling a tug to your hair, your eyes snap open and look up. "You get praised like a good bitch once and you think you can be a bad girl? I don't think so, whore," he stared straight into your eyes with his dark orbs devouring you. Your drool slithering down your chin. You peer up at him with desperation written all over your face. Your fingers glided down to your dress. You kept your gaze on him when your fingers entered your pussy, feeling how wet you are. "Are you seriously touching yourself?" he sounded thrilled at the idea. Jungkook stopped moving for a second, allowing you to suck on the head of his cock. He watched mascara run down your cheeks, feeling some sort of ego boost that he was making you look this way.

You nodded frantically, moving your fingers faster. You sucked him harder, your jaw throbbing as you attempted to deep throat him. He forced your head deeper so that your nose was touching his pubic hair. "I didn't give you permission, disobedient slut. You got three seconds to finish," he finished with a sullen laugh, knowing you weren't. "One, two–" Jungkook watched your eyes become watery as you hopelessly tried to get yourself to cum in just three seconds. "—three, take your fingers out whore."

You obeyed and showed him your fingers, glittering under the bathroom light, even though on the inside you were begging to be touched again. You thought of going against him. Jungkook let a cackle escape from his mouth. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet I bet you're fucking leaking out onto the floor."

You mewled, bobbing your head up and down. Releasing his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop, you batted your eyelashes up at him. "I'm so fucking wet for you," he flashed you a quick grin, obviously content with your answer. He brought your fingers up to his mouth, sucking them off while maintaining eye contact with you. His tongue swirled around your finger as you repeat the same motion on his cock. He released your finger.

"You can use your hands," you pull away right after he said that. You pumped him rapidly, your hand moving back and forth. Your ears took in his grunts, feeling some pride for causing him to make those noises. He almost came when he felt your warm, wet mouth around one of his balls.

"I want you to cum on my tits." he agreed, staring down at you. Tension builds within his stomach as he groaned out loud. You gaped at him when his cum shoots towards your neck, aiming towards your breasts.

Jungkook's breathing became heavier as he came back down from his blissful state that he was in. He grew hard in a instant when he saw how fucked you looked. Your mascara running down your eyes, leaving a trail of black ink behind. Your hair was tangled together into a mess due to him gripping it so tightly. With saliva dripping down your red swollen smeared lips, his eyes drifted further down. The straps of the dress you were wearing were rolled out into your stomach, exhibiting your perky breasts that are smeared with his cum.

"You look like a fucked whore," he smiled at you with satisfaction resting in his mind.

You giggled at him, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah, not just for you," you gazed up at him, a small smile on your lips.

He helped you get off the floor. His facial expression is now serious, indicating that he wasn't happy with your answer. Jungkook's fingers tapped the cold surface of the sink, indicating to sit down on it. You do so, opening your legs slowly.

He watched, eyes strictly locked in between your legs. "Who are you so wet for?" he asked.

You snorted and shrugged which only grew him more frustrated.

Jungkook growled and flipped you over. He bended you over the bathroom sink and bore his eyes into you by the mirror. "You wanna keep acting like a slut, you're might as well be fucked like one," you silently squealed in excitement. Jungkook lifted your dress up in one go. He pulled your underwear down, making you step out of them. "Put your leg on the counter," he commanded and you do as you're told. Lifting your right leg on the counter while the other one remained on the ground. You heard him frantically pull down his jeans. You gasped when you feel the tip on your entrance. He reached over for the condom on the counter.

"No!" you exclaimed. Jungkook stopped and looked down at your worriedly, wondering if you wanted to stop now. You gulped, feeling your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Don't use one please." you whined. "I want to feel you raw."

You heard Jungkook chuckle from behind you. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was fucking thriving. "Yeah? My fucking slut wants me to do her raw?" he started pushing himself. You held your breath as your walls allowed him to enter, tightening around his big shaft. His cock rimmed inside of you

"Y-yeah," you manage to choke out, staring at him through the mirror. He maintained eye contact to where your bodies connected, watching his cock sink into you as he held your hips in place. 

"Has any other guy fucked you raw, slut?" Jungkook brought his hand around your throat. You sensed that you could orgasm right there. You shook your head as he finally is inside of you fully. "What was that? Use your words, come on you're a big girl," he gripped your inner right thigh with so much strength, he could break it off if he tried. I mean those biceps.

"N-no only you. Just for you," he grinned at that.

"Good," you let out a loud moan when he started finally moving. His hips rutted into yours at an animalistic speed. He stared at you through the mirror, watching how your mouth opens and your breasts jiggle. He pressed your throat a little harder. "Bet no guy ever made you feel this way."

"Only you, Jungkook! Only you!" you manage to breath out. Your knuckles are almost white by how hard you're holding onto the counter. He lowers himself so his face is near your ear.

"Yeah? Look at you, telling me how I'll never have you yet you're over here drooling over my dick. Fucking whore." you whined harder as he breathed down your neck. You feel yourself began getting more wetter at his words. "Imagine what your family and friends will say when they find out you're letting me fuck you in the ass in a dirty bathroom at a frat party."

You shut your eyes, your pussy swallowing him back in. His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter. "Fucking slut," he snapped his hips at you. You moaned out loud, shamelessly. "On the dance floor dancing like one."

"Because I am one," he chuckled at that, fingers coming up to pinch your nipple.

"Yeah? Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?" the grip on your throat tightened, not enough to block your airway however. Jungkook kept his eye on you through the mirror, your lips molding into an oval shape. His palm came down to meet one of your asscheeks. You jumped forward, Jungkook pulling you back onto his cock. He stopped moving to lock eyes with you through the mirror, his lips hovering over your ear. "When I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer," you tried to move your hips a bit but he caught you before you can. "Now," his voice deepened. "Whose slut are you?"

"Your slut! I'm your slut! Jungkook, please—"

"Yeah? Scream when I fuck you so that everyone knows who your pussy belongs to," his hips rammed into you again. You swore you can feel him fucking into your cervix. You let a loud moan break free from your mouth, his hot breath fanned your ear.

A roaring pounding on the door snapped his head away. You whimpered and become aware that his pace was reducing as his attention was now on the other man trying to get in. Jungkook yelled out words that sounded fuzzy to your ears considering all you could hear is your heartbeat.

"No, no, Jungkook don't stop," you pleaded with him, twisting yourself to look at his lust filled eyes. "I'm almost there please!"

You almost screamed at him when he pulled out. He sat on the toilet lid, tapping his thighs that were spread out in front of him. "Ride me," he demanded. You're somehow quick on your wobbly legs, getting on top of him. You grasped his swollen red cock, lining it up with your entrance before sinking down.

Jungkook's hand went towards your hip to support you while the other one went further down to touch your swollen clit. His mouth came near your ear as you cried out his name. "If you don't come in the next minute, you're not cumming tonight, got it slut?" you panted but nonetheless nodded frantically.

And with that Jungkook sat back, watching you fuck yourself on his cock, you were basically using him as a toy and Jungkook loved that. The desperation look on your face was amusing and Jungkook stored in in his memories.

"Oh shit! Fuck I'm almost there," his palm travelled further down to rub your ass.

"Time's almost up," he wasn't actually keeping track but your determination to cum on such a short amount of time was adorable to him. Your thighs smacked his, bouncing on his cock faster. Jungkook's finger carried on rubbing against your clit, his eyes trailing down from your face to your bouncing breasts.

Your eyes rolled back as you heaved up. Your mouth opened wide, feeling your orgasm wash over you. Jungkook heard his name leave your mouth, panting. He almost came when he felt something warm soak into his jeans. Looking down, he became aware of what just happened.

"Fucking dirty slut," he hissed and allowed you to relax your head on his shoulder as your whole weight sunk down on him. His ears took in your sniffles. "Look what you did, squirted all over me slut."

Your cheeks burned in humiliation, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.

You gasped when he lifted his hips up to meet yours. You cried out to him to stop but Jungkook's quick to silence you with his fingers stuffed in your mouth. Your tears threatened to spill. "You're so tight, fuck! Need to fuck you more, whore,"

It doesn't take long for him to sprout into you, judging the way you tightened around him and how fucked your face look when he looked down to meet your eyes. With his cum coating your walls, he slid out of you. A bit of cum came out and dropped down to his black pants leaving a white stain behind.

You attempted to stand out on your own but failed due to you not being able to feel your legs for a second. Luckily, Jungkook is there to help you. He bent down to help you put on your underwear.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked while zipping up his pants. You checked your face in the mirror, noticing the hickeys all over your neck and the mascara smothered down your cheeks.

You turned to look at him, pulling your dress down."Are you really asking me after we just had sex? Where's my bra by the way?" your face is met with your bra when he flung it at you.

He laughed, watching you put it on. "Yeah, seriously though are you?"

"Why? If I'm going to be your sugar mama I might as well be your baby mama." Jungkook looked stricken and you snickered, bringing your hand up to hide your mouth. "I'm joking," you wiped your face with some wet wipes you found in the drawers.

"Not funny, was ready to fucking make a run for it."

It was your turn to look stricken as Jungkook laughed. You frowned and slapped his chest.

It goes quiet, the loud bass music now coming back to fill your ears instead of Jungkook's moans. He stood awkwardly near the corner while you threw away the wipes you used to remove your makeup. Running your fingers through your hair, you turned towards him.

"So, does this mean that you're going to give me a chance?" the man in front of you standing like an anime character asked, as if he wasn't calling you degrading names a few minutes ago.

You smiled at him and lunged forward to kiss him. "Yes, I'll give you a chance Jungkook."

↳ in your heart; drabble collection

[girlmeetsliv3]

Cruel Liaisons

~~ Previously Lingerlust ~~

A/B/O!MiniMoni x Reader; Poly BTS

“When one strikes the heart of another they seldom miss, and the wound is invariably fatal.”

Release Date: May 7th, 2021 @ 12:15 p.m. (GMT-5)

Apologies for the late update. Hope you enjoy it.

Trigger Warnings: blood and gore.

February 2nd, 2022

           “Please state your name for the record.”

           “Jeon YN.” YN stared at the recording machine in front of her, it looked antiquated like the type that wasn’t automatically connected to a cloud or storage system. “Those types have to be manually saved. Which can come in handy.” The officer’s cleared their throats, drawing back YN’s attention. What were their names again? “We need you to state your sub-gender as well.” The one on the left spoke lowly, his voice coming out a bit tense and nervous. “Beta.” When YN tried to smell them, she noticed both were wearing scent blockers, though her sense of smell was never her strong suit.

           “This is officer Park Sooyoung and officer Kim Jisoo.” The taller one stated, her tone dull, as if she rather be anywhere else. Judging by the bags under her eyes and the large cup of coffee in front of her – a bed seemed to be her choice. Officer Kim reached to the ground and placed a file on the desk, she opened it to reveal a series of photographs; five to be precise. Males and females from around a same age group are placed with one female in the center, she looks strangely familiar to YN. The rounded tip of her nose and arched brows but she can’t quite place the face. There is someone YN does recognize though, a face she saw just a few days ago.

           “Anyone you recognize?” Officer Kim asks, her tone is serious but airy. The smile on her face after every sentence lets YN know that she’s the ‘good cop.’

           YN points at the second photo from the left, “Him. I saw him in a missing persons ad on the news, but he didn’t look this old.” They had likely picked a picture from when he was younger, the man on the news held a bright smile. His jawline sharp and his cheekbones high but not defined. The man in the photograph in front of her had a pronounced jawline, hollow cheeks, and an ugly scowl that did nothing to mar his features. ‘K.T’ read the bottom.

           “What news channel and around what time?”

           “KBS, maybe late evening. I watch it before I go to sleep.”

Both officers nod, as Park shifts around on her seat. Now facing directly at YN, resting both elbows on the metal table. “Are you aware of the reason you were brought into the station today?” Officer Kim jumps in before YN can answer, “Just so you know you aren’t being charged with anything.”

Yes. “No, I don’t know.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes level and gaze neither too intense nor too bored.

“You’re here due to your affiliation with Alpha’s Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin,” Park spoke, “They’re your employers, correct?” There was an edge to her voice that YN recognized. Many people weren’t fond of them – many had a reason not to be.

“Yes.” YN nods.

“How long have you worked for them?” Kim asks.

YN notes how neither women are writing anything down, nor looking towards the one-sided mirror behind them. Are they perhaps recording this with a second device? If that’s the case it's not just her voice YN must be cautious of, but her expressions as well. “Around nine months, I’m their housekeeper and take care of Hyunwoo.” After a bit of silence from the police, she elaborates more, “I cook, clean, and help the child with his homework.”

“That’s quite a lot for just one person. Especially considering you have little background in those areas before you were hired, correct?”

They’re trying to bait me. “I’m used to doing those things at home.” YN shrugs, she can see the growing frown on Park’s features.

“How exactly did you hear about the job?” Kim leans forward, but one of her hands drops below the table. Park’s eyes dart over to her partner for a second, but YN catches it. Kim likely gave her a signal or something like a reassuring squeeze, YN hopes it’s the latter. “What was the hiring process like?”

“From an acquaintance Dr. Sihyuk.” Both officers nod along, they don’t seem to recognize the name. “Bang’s dead. Unlikely anyone will find something there.” They always knew to cover their bases. “Um, normal, I guess. I sent in an application and then had an interview.”

“You made a lot of money as the Kim’s housekeeper. Did you never ask yourself where that money was coming from?” It seemed the officers were done trying to be subtle.

“No, it wasn’t my place. Plus, most of the money I earned went into paying family debts.”

“Do you know Kim Namjoon’s or Park Jimin’s source of income?”

“Again no. I just did what I was supposed to do.”

“You never thought to ask?”

“No.”

Sooyoung smirks, “Interesting how everyone around the Kim’s just accepts things at face value. Their co-workers, drivers, bodyguards, even their housekeeper just does what their told. You weren’t even a little bit curious as to how they could possibly afford the lifestyle they have?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” YN’s arms were clenching around the chair, trying to hold herself back from reacting negatively to the hassling.

“But we aren’t cats.” Sooyoung remarks and for a second YN feels like she’s lost a battle. Jisoo points to the picture in the center, it's a beautiful young woman with flowy hair and a bright smile. Her delicate features give away her omega nature. Though the closer YN inspects the picture, they’re bags under her eyes, permanent frown lines etched onto her face, a hollowness to her eyes. She looks somewhere between life and death. “Do you recognize this woman? You lingered on her a bit longer than the rest of them.”

The longer YN stares at her the more she starts to piece things together, but it still feels like she’s missing something. So she gives a generic answer. “She looks kind of familiar. Has that kind of face.”

“What kind of face?” Jisoo questions.

“Like…pretty, popular, all over billboards kind of face.”

It's enough to satisfy them for now. They slowly start removing all the pictures while leaving only the woman’s, the longer YN sees it the more unnerved she becomes. Her head begins to hurt as another migraine begins to pound at her temples. Creating a sort of hazy fog over YN’s mind. Both officers’ then hold up the picture and flip it revealing a picture of the same woman holding a young child wrapped in blankets. She looks so much happier, so full of life. Instantly YN places her, recognizing the toddler wrapped in blue velvet.

“This is Hyunwoo’s mother. The last time anyone saw her alive was three weeks ago when she just so happened to be having dinner with your employers.” Fuck.

Present

           YN’s phone dings as another text from Mark appears on her screen: ‘boss wants to know when you’ll start paying?’ She groans exhaustedly, responding with ‘I have been paying. He gets half my salary every week.’ Which hasn’t made living very comfortable for YN, but she makes do with what she can.

           Mark: It’s not enough princess, not with the way daddy’s been spending money.

           Me: What am I supposed to do if you keep giving him money?!

           Mark: That’s not up to me. So, the money?

           Me: I’m looking for a second job. One that pays better.

           Mark: Just go sell your eggs or something. Not like you have any use for them.

           “Asshole.” YN muttered, muting her notifications. She looked up to the entrance of the fertility clinic debating whether or not to go in. It wasn’t like she had much of an option; she needed the money and fertility clinics were the only ones willing to provide big sums of money fast. Not to mention she had missed a day of work to make the appointment, which meant less money to give to Mark. I hate this. I hate this so much. YN was about to walk away, leave everything when she spotted a black BMW parked on the curve. Its driver observing her intensely. She knew what it meant.

           Mark was getting pushy. Meaning his boss was getting pushy and YN didn’t need to be on the bad side of some loan shark – not again. So, she mustered up the courage and opened the glass doors, being hit with the smell of lavender and pheromones. It reeks. Nonetheless, she forced a smile on her face and walked towards the front desk. “Hello, I have an appointment with Dr. Sihyuk.”

 “Unfortunately, there is a limit to how many eggs we can safely remove from you. Betas aren’t like omegas, you have a set number of eggs. Removing the majority of them would leave you infertile. We’d also be unsure of whether the eggs are useful or not without running the proper examinations which can take weeks.” Dr. Sihyuk explained as he went over YN’s medical file, each sentence uttered destroying her hope little by little.

“I understand but I am quite fertile. I carry a recessive gene from my father who is an omega. Not to mention I’m not interested in having children so I would have no use for my eggs,” she could sense the doctor’s hesitation, “unlike someone who might benefit from them.” I just really need the money.

“Oh, I know, you betas are lucky in that sense. Don’t have to worry about population growth.” Though it was said jokingly it still made YN uncomfortable, let her know he wasn’t buying her bullshit. The doctor closed the file, “Why exactly are you interested in donating your eggs? Is it for the money?” He saw right through her.  At her silence the doctor sighs, “We get one of you every once in a while. Always wrapped up in some business started by a family member or mistakes you’ve made.” Sihyuk opens a file cabinet beside him and shoves her file in there, “Unfortunately for you there’s no market for beta eggs.”

YN sags exhaustion and fear taking over her, “I –” Sihyuk takes a small white business card out of the cabinet holding it out towards her. “Fortunately for you, I happen to know someone hiring. They specified only betas applied.” Hesitantly YN takes the card, “What kind of job?” Though she knows one should never look a gift horse in the mouth it feels to good to be true. “A housekeeper for an alpha couple. They’re long-time associates of mine. Give them a call you won’t regret it.”

 Evening of June 20th, 2021

           Hyunwoo wouldn’t stop crying. YN truly regretted feeding him chocolate before bed, he had nightmares that had not let the three-year-old rest. Though YN had time and time again reassured them there were no monsters under his bed or strange men coming to take him at night, he wouldn’t hear of it. Insisted she had stayed in bed with him and when that didn’t work cried out for his daddies. The issue being his daddies were currently busy, in the middle of their ruts with their weekly guests. Thankfully, their bedroom was across the apartment from Hyunwoo’s, or else she’d have to explain to the child that the screams being heard didn’t belong to ghost.

           “I want papa! I want daddy!” Hyunwoo shrieked, snot and tears dribbling down his face. At this rate, he’d get himself sick if he didn’t permanently injure his vocal cords – or her hearing.

           “I know. I know, but they’re busy right now. I can go get them later.” When their guests are gone and they’ve cleaned their bedroom. YN never quite knew how they manage to sneak them out and clean up so fast, but she didn’t question it. Less work for me.

           “NO! I want them now!” Hyunwoo bolted towards the door, his little legs running as fast as they could. Though they couldn’t compare to YN’s.

           She hugged the toddler, “Alright. I’ll go get your daddies but you have to promise me you’ll wait in bed.” Hyunwoo began to shake his head, “Come on Woowoo, imagine what they’ll say if they hear you threw a tantrum. What would daddies say?”

           That seemed to sober him up a bit, “They would be disappointed.”

           “Exactly,” YN led him back to bed, gently tucking him in. “I’ll be right back with them soon, okay?”

             The hallway felt eerily long as YN struggled with how to politely interrupt without being subjected to the alpha’s rages. Ruts were an especially tricky time and there would be very little she could do to protect herself if it took a turn for the worse. Not to mention she was breaking one of the very few rules set by them: no bothering us after nine pm. YN glanced at her watch, it was currently 11:43 pm. I am so going to lose my job. But Hyunwoo needed his parents, and she didn’t want to risk the toddler running into their bedroom and being witness to something that would certainly cause trauma. Not to mention I might get sent his therapy bills. More debt. YN reached their bedroom doors. A light red hue leaking from the bottom, she willed all her courage and knocked.

           “Come in, darling.” Jimin spoke, his dulcet tone sounding a little rougher than normal. Surprisingly the door was unlocked, so YN opened it. At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, just Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin laying in their bed. The red silk sheets, she so often had to wash, concealing their more intimate parts. It wasn’t until YN noticed the stains covering their bodies and the walls. It caused her eyes to dance around the room until she landed on what had caused such a mess: the two dismembered bodies lying on the floor. The red lighting of the room serving to conceal what the stains truly were: blood.

           Namjoon beckoned her inside with a wave of his hand and YN felt obliged to obey. She could still smell the pheromones in their air, still feel their rut. Not to mention, Hyunwoo might have been following her. She locked the door behind her.

           “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Namjoon spoke, smirking and showing off his blood-stained pearly teeth.

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

I know you're still working on other prompts, but here me out... the boys meeting Wenzel and Toni for the first time. :)

“Have you considered schooling?”

Hermes withheld his mumbling, “I've…. Considered.”

Taking a tea break with Gizmo had become a regular occurrence during work, letting the two talk without having to take up more time in the day with official meetings. The town's service provider was a trusted confidant to Hermes, and not just because of patient confidentiality.

He'd already offered so much assistance in the wild world of child raising, and he'd probably continue to as the boys got older. There were just a few suggestions that Hermes couldn't see working. Like that one.

“See, I've tried a little bit of home learning, but only Cletus is taking to it. The other two lose interest quickly, cause disruptions, and before you know it the three are off doing something else."

“Well, a structured environment like a classroom, and peers of similar age, might just be the thing to change their behaviour. There aren’t many children in Kuvaq, but perhaps if they could make friends with one or two others?”

The encounter with Burnert and his daughter Toni came to mind.

“Hmm.”

“Even just as a trial. And they know who to call if there's trouble.”

“Well...”

Gizmo poured him another cup, giving his best reassuring smile. He’d been so trusted in all matters around his sons, but he was also a great personal confidant. It must have been years since he’d been able to have someone he could talk with, intellectually, and trust to understand him.

“I suppose we can try.”

---------

“Yeah we're going to school!!" Rufus bounced around the house, bumping into furniture and his family alike. When he shoved into Cletus’ shoulder, the green-haired boy shoved back.

“I bet you don’t even know what a school is.”

“Maybe so! But it means we're going somewhere new, somewhere outside, right Dad?!”

“That’s right, and because we’re going out, I need you all to be on your best behaviour. Understand?”

They all nodded, each at different levels of enthusiasm, with Argus pointedly looking at the floor.

“Good. Now hold hands, and let's go see what school is like.”

Cletus took Hermes' hand, the old man hunching a little further so he didn’t have to reach too far, while Rufus took his free hand and Argus took the remaining one to stop any wandering fingers.They left their small house and made their way across town, heading out the gates and down towards a smaller walled area which has its own gates, and gate keeper, who greeted them warmly.

“Hello there, would you happen to be the Herald family?”

“Yes, I’m Hermes and these are my sons Cletus, Ruf- Rufus stop that.”

He was swinging his arms wildly, to which Cletus was resisting and Argus was competing against. A measured frown got them to calm the motions.

“Cletus, Rufus and Argus. They’ll be trialing school today.”

“Wonderful! I’m Gary, Kuvaq’s main teacher. Most other kids are here already, so if you’d like to come in.”

Gary pushed open the gates, revealing a large flat and open area that looked to have most hazards removed. A large rectangle was drawn in the centre, while off to the left were rows of tables and chairs placed in front of a large board. Towards the back was a standalone building with a large window and an awning, and to the right was another that had various extensions added onto it. There were several children of varying ages playing within the space, once of which Hermes noticed was Toni, who was with another girl looking at a cactus.

“Were you planning on staying for the lesson Mr Herald?”

“Oh, as much as I’d love to, I must get to work soon. Though if there’s any trouble-”

“Haha, don’t worry, Gizmo has informed me of the situation. I keep flare guns for communication just in case!”

Gray pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants, grinning, before slipping it back into place. He then cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out for the children to gather. Hermes knelt to address his sons.

“Alright, now please, be on your best behaviour-”

Rufus slapped a hand on his mouth.

“Shushushu… shu. You have n’uttn to be worried about!” He slung his arms over his brother's shoulders, dragging them into an unwanted huddle, “We’ll be good!”

With a hopeful smile, Hermes drew them all into a hug, praying that nothing would go wrong.

--------

“This is boooring.”

Gary was going on and on about something, which Rufus could only define as completely uninteresting. They were sitting at the tables with all the other kids, who were also at different levels of interest and very much not. Cletus had his eyes focused forward, but his frown was clearly aimed.

“Maybe to a simpleton like you, I on the other hand-”

“Come on, let's ditch.” Rufus turned enough to begin kicking Argus’s chair, “Hey, hey, hey.”

Cletus rolled his eyes, “He’s asleep.”

They stared at their brother, who looked to be staring ahead, but his mouth was slightly open and a tiny drip of drool was forming.

“Drat, how does he do that? I have to use little sticks to hold mine open!”

“Just still still for once and listen to the teacher.”

Rufus faced the front with a pout, swinging his legs. If he swung them far enough, he could see his toes on the other side of the table. And if he spilled down and stretched his toes, he could nudge the chair in front of him. Which he did.

Several times.

Until the kid who was seated in it spun around and growled at him.

‘Growling? Who does that?’

So obviously he growled back.

“Stop that! You’re being embarrassing.” Cletus hissed.

“Alright class,” Gary clapped his hands, “Now we’re going to pair off to do a task. I will give each group a letter, and you’ll have to think of a word that starts with that letter. Then, you need to figure out a way to have everyone guess the word, without talking!”

Whispers went around the group. Argus’ head fell forward before it snapped back to alert, giving Rufus a giggle, to which Cletus further shushed him.

“Now, the pairs will be-”

-----------

Argus kicked at the dirt, completely ignoring his work partner. He wasn’t interested in whatever they were supposed to be doing, he would much rather be playing with his brothers, or napping. Though he napped best around his brothers so really, he just wanted to be home.

“Hey! Are you even listening?!”

The boy he’d been paired with (‘S... Se..Sick? Sike?’) was around a head taller than him, and really thin, probably making him a few years older. Though that didn’t mean anything really, just that he probably shouldn’t look like he was about to throw a tantrum.

“This a baby task, meant for dumb little babies. Since I’m clearly not the baby here, then you should do all the work.”

Argus regarded him for a moment, then went back to kicking the dirt, gazing around the yard to see what the other two were doing.

“Hey, pay attention when someone talks to you!”

Rufus looked to be enjoying himself, waving wildly at the tiny kid he was with. Cletus was with the girl they’d met the other day, but he didn’t look comfortable-

There was a hand gripping the top of his head.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?! Can’t do anything without your dumb brothers?”

Argus felt his eye twitch. The hand shook his head from side to side.

“I’m surprised I don’t hear rattling. Though, maybe afterwards I’ll go shake the other two to make sure you're not just sharing one bolt for a brain around.”

He grabbed the offending hand by the wrist in a vice grip, and looked up at the older boy.

“Don’t touch them.”

“Or you’ll what little baby-”

--------

Toni stared at Cletus.

Cletus… struggled to match her gaze.

It was really scrutinising.

He hadn’t even said anything to her yet, but here he was, stuck being judged by the girl who defeated all three of them.

“You really are a drago-”

Her expression became a glare.

“What was that?”

“...nothing.”

“Right.”

It softened again, and thankfully this time she turned her eyes to the sky.

“Sooo, what are we gonna pick?”

Cletus turned the metal square the teacher had given them in hand, until the line beneath the letter was at the bottom.

“We got the letter P.”

“Wow, I’m kinda surprised you knew to do that.”

“Someone in the family needs reading comprehension.”

“P… Hmmm…. Oh! I’ve got the perfect idea!”

“What, you’re not even going to ask for my thoughts?”

“I-” Toni was taken back a little by how offended he immediately looked, “...sure, what’s your idea?”

His smile was very proud, “Well, words are my speciality.”

Reading his fathers growing collection of books was one of his favourite things to do, making him much more versed in the world of words than either of his brothers, something he took great pride in.

“Well, for the letter P there is- plagiarize, prosecution, participate, profound, plutonium… pigeon.”

Toni just stared at him.

“And how exactly would we get people to guess those? I mean, maybe the last one, that would be funny, but the other ones...”

“If they can’t guess them, then we’re clearly too smart for them.”

She sighed.

“No, we’re going to do things my way. You just follow along.”

“Hu? But, you haven’t even said what word you thought of!”

She slung an arm over his shoulders, bringing him in close.

“Do as I say, or you’ll be playing ‘pigeon’, by yourself, in front of allll the other kids.”

He gulped, and nodded.

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

“Hi!”

“H-hi.”

Rufus bent over at a 90 degree angle, staring directly into the face of his work partner.

"You're reeeeally small!"

He almost looked to get smaller when he sighed, which was even funnier. He couldn’t stop the grin covering his face, but he did manage to stick out a hand.

“I’m Rufus!”

He didn’t reach for it right away, adjusting his glasses and checking how far away the teacher was, before he accepted the shake.

“Wenzel.”

His whole arm was rapidly shaken.

“That’s a funny name!”

When he was finally released, Wenzel had to also adjust his hair and coat to straighten himself out. He had no idea what to make of this new kid.

“You look like you’d know a thing or two about funny.”

“Yeah I know all about fun! You wanna play?”

“We should be doing what the teacher asked.”

“Oh, right. What was that again?”

Wenzel tilted his head, watching the other boy curiously. He opened his mouth, but then reconsidered, instead holding up the letter square. Rufus just blinked at it.

“We have to pick a word, remember?”

Recognition, finally, as he waved his arms about, “An eff word!”

“Yes. And it has to be something we can pretend for others to guess.”

“Let’s pick something exciting! With energy!”

“Hmmm, energetic, f… what about fire? Teacher didn't say anything against using sound effects, so maybe-"

Rufus gasped.

"Great idea! It's like I thought of it myself! Or maybe I did, and I beemed it into your head- AH!” He grabbed his little round head, "We're connected Wenzel. With you as my sidekick, I’ll be unstoppable.”

“Sidekick-?!”

“Shush, say no more. I know exactly what you’re thinking now, and yes, it’s a great honor. Now we’ll just need a few things to do the best presentation ever!”

Wenzel wriggled from Rufus’ grip, stepping out of his arms reach for now.

“What ‘things’?”

“Well first I need a g-”

“CHILDREN. THIS IS NOT AN APPROVED SCHOOL ACTIVITY.”

“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

Both boys turned out the sudden shouting, looking to where all the other children were quickly gathering around Gary. Grabbing Wenzels hand, Rufus practically dragged his new friend to the scene, coming up behind their teacher to join the chanting mob.

“ARGH! Make him stop! Make him stop!!”

Gary was trying his hardest to simply push the two children apart, but when it proved useless he had to resort to using both hands to try to pry Argus’ teeth off the other boy's hand. When even that failed, Gary moved one hand to fumble for the flare gun, but had to drop it when Argus shifted his jaw to also bite down on the other invading fingers. Wenzel looked up at Rufus, who didn’t seem to care for the scene.

“Isn’t that your brother? Shouldn’t you do something?

Rufus was wholly focused on the gun on the floor, “Just what the presentation needs.”

“We won’t have a presentation if the teacher is hurt!” When he didn’t look convinced, Wenzel added, “Plus, you’d be showing off how cool you are to the whole class if you step in right now.”

Rufus finally looked at his short friend, then looked around the group. Cletus was watching beside Toni, both talking to each other, not looking like they were going to help out. He sighed, but looked a bit smug about it.

“Guess it all falls to Rufus to save the day.”

He stepped into the scene (while also grabbing the gun and slipping it into his belt pouch), and put himself between his brother and the others.

“Hey. You’re gonna ruin my chance to do a awesome presentation. Stop.”

He pinched Argus’ nose to get his attention. When they locked eyes, Rufus broke out his best pout, the one that alway got Dad to give him an extra snack. He knew that with any luck-

Argus let go, shaking his head to release Rufu’s grip, before spitting blood onto the ground. The boy he’d bit wailed, cradling his hand, and Gary took stock of his own injury, gaze flicking to the brothers in case of more violence. When it looked that Argus was now content with his actions, Gary stood tall to address the class.

“W-well, I hope you all take this as an example of what not to do during class. If you must bite someone, please do it off school property. Now, I’m going to take Sikke to see Gizmo. Argus, please see yourself to the timeout box,” He pointed to a little cage by the nearest building, “And the rest of you, keep working on your presentations until I return. Then we can all show off what amazing words we chose!”

With a grin, Gary left the school yard with Sikke.

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

“I’m so sorry-”

“Please Mr. Herald, all things considered, a little biting should have been expected. A new environment can be stressful and scary to young children. I should have kept a closer eye on how he was reacting to others.”

Hermes wrung his hands, but tried to copy Gary’s smile. Yes, Argus had apparently come within millimetres of taking Sikke’s pinky finger off, but other than that (and a few nicks on Gary’s hand) the boys hadn’t caused any trouble. The school day had been mostly a success.

He’d made the choice to return with Gary after Gizmo had explained the situation, so he could scold Argus while the event was still fresh, and be able to watch Rufus and Cletus’ presentations before they headed home.

As they entered the yard, they found most of the children just playing their own games. When Gary pointed out the timeout box, they did in fact find Argus sitting inside, watching Rufus who was using the cage to climb up onto the building's awning. Wenzel was already on it, trying to help pull him up.

“Okay children! Back to your desks, it’s time to present!”

Once they’d gotten the two off the awning, Hermes collected Argus in his arms and stood where they could watch. Rufus wouldn’t stop squirming in his seat as each pair went up, though it was Toni and Cletus who went before him.

“Just like I said.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Cletus held up the letter square, Toni cleared her throat.

“We got the letter P. Please try to guess our word.”

He squatted down to set the square aside, then curled his arms over his head and stayed in that position. Toni began to mime; acting like she was carrying something, setting it down, moving something up and down, picking the first again, but it was heavier now, then she shuffled next to Cletus and pretended to pour it on him. Cletus then slowly unfurled, until he was standing tall with his arms in the air, face dead serious.

Rufus lost it, almost falling from his seat with laughter.

To his credit, Cletus scowled, but remained in his position. There were 'umm's and 'ahh's around the group, until the girl Toni had been originally playing with raised her hand.

"Plant!"

"You got it An!"

Toni went over and gave her a high-five, while Cletus went back to his seat, head held high. He bopped Rufus on the head for good measure.

"Nice choice of word and wonderful display you two! Okay, the next pair is Wenzel and Rufus."

"Finally!"

He launched from his seat, dashing to the front with Wenzel following as close as his short legs would let him. When they were both facing the class, Wenzel held the letter square as high as he could while Rufus addressed everyone.

"Our letter was Fff! Watch and be amazed at our presentation!"

Hermes shivered.

"Why do I feel like…"

Wenzel began to mime clicking to rocks together.

"Chk, Chk, Chk-"

"BWOOSH!"

Rufus whipped out the flare gun, firing it at the nearby building, where the flare landed and ignited something on the awning. It only took seconds before something else caught, and quickly the whole thing was alight.

Rufus grinned widely.

"GUESS! Go on, GUESS!!"

Gary leapt forward, moving to usher the children away from the growing inferno, while Hermes stood in shock, feeling years slipping off his lifespan. When Argus began tugging at his collar, he got enough sense back to step away.

"I can guess this one. It's fire."

"... Good job. I think that's enough school for now. "

[kanerallels]

OKAY OKAY ROUND TWO OF THIS! Kanera fix it or Kanera and waffles! Whichever works <3

*has no self control* *writes my first fix it* This was hecking fun! I hope you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 2,455

Tags/Warning: rated T (for time travel! *insert Hulk gif here*) and also near death

This wasn’t how Kanan wanted things to end.

He'd wanted more time. He'd wanted to explain things to Hera, to tell her how much she meant to him.

But things had moved too fast for him. Kanan was too late.

He felt the heat of the fire from the fuel pod singing the tips of his fingers, and concentrated on pushing it back with all his strength, his hands shaking slightly and his face twisting with the effort. The fire billowed high above him, but Kanan wasn’t afraid. Just full of regrets.

Behind him, he heard Hera scream his name, her voice full of raw desperation and fear. Kanan knew, without even needing to look, that she would run towards him and she did, her steps barely audible above the roar of the flames.

Turning without looking, Kanan diverted part of his concentration and caught her in her steps, holding her back with the Force. He felt her struggle against the grip, panic and fear pulsing through her.

Slowly, on some instinct he didn’t understand, he turned to face Hera. Maybe it was because of how much he ached to see her. Maybe it was to give her one last glimpse of him. Kanan sensed her desperation, her fear, how much she wanted to reach him.

But he couldn’t let her. There was too much at stake. So with a quick thrust, he sent her flying back to where Ezra was waiting, ready. His apprentice caught hold of her, holding her back. Kanan felt a flicker of gratitude-- he could always count on Ezra.

An odd tingling sensation swept across his eyes, and for a moment he thought he was crying. But crying had been impossible ever since Malachor. Since he’d been blinded.

Even as he thought the word, it was like a cloud was swept away from his eyes, and he could see. Kanan had no idea how, but he accepted it calmly, as he’d accepted his fate.

His gaze locked onto Hera first-- Hera, clad in an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit, a look of complete horror and fear in her eyes, with the slightest hint of surprise and awe as she looked at him. Kanan took her in, drinking in the very sight of her. She was older than she had been when they’d first met, and had only grown more beautiful. And Kanan had only grown more in love with her.

Behind her, holding her back, was Ezra-- Force, Ezra. He was so tall, so grown-up looking. Kanan was well aware he’d only ever pictured the little boy from Lothal, and he felt pride stirring in his heart. Stay safe, kid, he thought. You know what to do. I love you both.

And so he released his hold on the flames and used all his power and strength to send the ship that held Ezra, Sabine, and Hera flying away from the fuel depot. It would be enough. It had to be enough.

They would be safe. And they would keep fighting. Hera always did.

That was Kanan’s last thought before the flames swallowed him.

But it wasn’t his last thought.

Even as the fire swirled around him, he heard a strange whoosh, and the sound of boots impacting on metal, and suddenly the fire was gone. And Kanan was somewhere else entirely.

“Did it work?”

A young male voice came from behind Kanan, stunned but excited.

“Of course it worked, idiot, he’s not dead and we still exist,” said a dry female voice that sounded… bizarrely familiar. Almost like--

Kanan turned towards the sound and someone tackled him to the ground, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, sorry-- eyes closed,” the young man ordered. “If you look, I’ll tell Hera.”

“What does that even mean?” Kanan demanded-- although it was a fairly compelling argument. Trying to shove the young man off of him, he said “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“Saving you, you dumb--”

The young man cleared his throat loudly, cutting off the woman. “We were sent here to save your life.”

“What?” Kanan’s jaw dropped, surprise flashing through him. “Wha-- no, I was supposed to die. It had to happen, to save Hera and Ezra and Sabine--”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the woman said, “They’re FINE, trust me. Well, other than the fact they think you’re dead.”

The young man groaned. “Okay, you should probably stop talking now. I’ll handle this.”

“You’re not much more diplomatic than me!”

“Everyone’s more diplomatic than you, Depa.”

“Depa?” Kanan asked, a frown knitting his forehead.

He heard his two rescuers freeze, and a muttered curse. “Yeah,” the young man said cautiously. “That’s her name.”

“That was my master’s name,” Kanan said, his mind racing. There was no way that could be a coincidence. Sure, there were probably other people in the galaxy named Depa, but--

“You can probably stop sitting on him-- he’ll behave,” Depa said dryly. “Right, Jarrus? That means keep your eyes close, and NO PEEKING or I’ll punch you out.”

“You can’t punch him out,” the young man said with a sigh.

“Why, because he’s an old geezer? I’m not afraid to hit an old man.”

Kanan sensed the young man rolling his eyes. “He’s not even that old right now! Okay, I’m gonna let you up-- please keep your eyes closed.”

The young man scrambled off of him, and Kanan slowly rose to his feet, wincing. He’d been burned, he could feel that much-- his hands, the back of his neck and his face especially. But somehow, impossibly, he was alive.

“I-- thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how or why you saved me, but thank you.”

“Someone had to,” Depa said, her voice surprisingly sincere. “And Force knows you needed help.”

“True,” the young man agreed. “But we don’t have all day here-- we need to get you back.”

“Back?” Kanan asked.

“Back to Hera and everyone else,” the young man elaborated. “If you follow us, we can get you out of here and back to them. They should be expecting you. Hopefully. We’re pretty sure Ezra warned them.”

“Reassuring,” Kanan said, keeping his eyes shut. “Which way are we going? And where are we, exactly?”

“This way,” Depa said, giving his shoulder a slight nudge in the right direction. As Kanan started walking, she added, “And we’re in some dumb alternate dimension.”

“It’s a world between worlds,” the young man corrected from ahead of them. “And it was really hard to get here. You wouldn’t believe all the stuff we had to do to get here. But it led us to where you were, which makes it worth it.”

“Why?” Kanan asked, releasing the question he’d been turning over in his mind. “Why did you come to save me? Why you in particular?”

He heard the young man’s footsteps stutter, like he’d paused in his steps. “Oh. Um…”

“Subtle, Jacen,” Depa said sarcastically.

“Jacen?” Kanan felt a grin cross his face. “So that’s your name.”

Jacen let out a sigh. “Nice one, Depa. Look, D-- Kanan. You’re… really important. To a lot of people. And they couldn’t just lose you if there was something that could be done.”

“So we did it,” Depa said matter of factly. “As you do. Oh, we’re here! This is your stop.”

They came to a halt, and Kanan sensed… something. Like a light at the end of a hallway, beckoning him forward. “And this is where I’m supposed to go?” he said warily. “It’s safe?”

“Trust me,” Jacen said. “She’s on the other side. Hera is. Your family is waiting for you.”

Kanan nodded slowly, his mind spinning. Despite the obvious strangeness of this whole thing, the way it had caught him off guard, there were a few things that he had a strange feeling about. Like he was two steps away from putting something together, something incredibly important. “Wait-- before I go through there. Will I be able to see?”

“I-- oh. No,” Depa said, her voice soft, almost shaken. “You never could after Lothal. That was the last time.”

“Then I at least want to see the faces of the pair that saved my life,” Kanan said. “If you’re alright with it.”

“I’m not sure--” Jacen began.

“Oh, shut up and let him,” Depa said, her voice exasperated. “What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, I-- I want him to.”

There was a short pause, then Jacen sighed. “I know. Me, too. Okay, go ahead.”

Kanan’s eyes flicked open. He was in what looked like outer space-- pure black, only broken up by strange white lines outlining paths. And, every now and then, circular doorways. “Huh,” Kanan murmured, his gaze sweeping across the place. And then it landed on the duo standing in front of him, and his eyes widened in surprise.

They were both a couple years younger than him. Jacen was a tall young man, tan-skinned except where it was green, especially along his pointed ears. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, and scruffy goatee were a deep shade of green, and his eyes were almost an almost disturbingly familiar shade of turquoise.

Depa was a young Twi’lek woman with green skin, pink patches here and there. Her eyes were brown, and widened slightly with shock as they met his. “He really does have your eyes,” she said, her voice stunned.

“Wow,” Kanan breathed, any doubt in his mind swept away. “Are-- are you two-- Wow. Words fail me.”

Depa let out a snort. “Same here. But about that haircut. Mom was right, it really is awful. Worse than the one Jacen gave himself when he was eleven. It was really bad, be glad you didn’t see it.”

Kanan chuckled, then glanced at Jacen. “I-- and you two came here to save me?”

Jacen shrugged. “We wouldn’t exist if we didn’t. Well, I would, but Depa wouldn’t, and that’s a downside. Kinda.”

Depa punched him in the arm, and Jacen let out a yelp, darting away from her as she took another swing at him, and Kanan could only shake his head because of what he was watching. “This is unbelievable.”

“I mean. Not that unbelievable,” Jacen pointed out, a smile crossing his face that Kanan had seen a thousand times in the seat next to his own.

“Wow. You look… just like your mom. Both of you.”

Jacen’s eyes went wide. “R-really? Um. Everyone says I look like… you.”

“That is Hera Syndulla’s smile right there,” Kanan said, and he knew it to his core. “Looks just like hers. But yeah, I can see our resemblance. Well. For now.”

The smile faded off of Jacen’s face, and he said in a low voice, “We can’t stay.”

Nodding, Kanan said, “I know. I should probably get going, too. Just--” he paused, looking at his children for the last time. “I’m proud of you two already.”

“That is so typical of you,” Depa said, rolling her eyes in a completely Hera movement. “Do you have any idea how many kids you’re gonna adopt? Hint-- it’s a lot.”

“No spoilers,” Jacen ordered. “We should go. But before we do--” he turned to Kanan. “When the time comes, tell Ezra that he doesn’t have to be you. He has to be him, and no one else.”

“Oh, and don’t worry,” Depa said breezily. “You’ll find him eventually.”

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” Kanan demanded.

“You’re about to find out,” Depa said with a wink, and that, Kanan knew, she’d gotten from him.

Leaning forward, Jacen said, “She’s your most infuriating child. Yes, more so than the Mandalorian.”

Kanan shook his head, grinning. “I can’t wait for you two to come along. I really can’t.”

Shrugging, Depa said, “You might not have to wait that long. Now get out of here, we’ve all got places to be.”

“Right.” Kanan turned towards the doorway, which was a blank white, and glanced back at his kids one more time. “May the Force be with you,” he told them.

“You always say that,” Jacen said with a slight grin. “See you soon, Dad.”

Kanan nodded, then stepped through the doorway.

Everything was dark as he stumbled out into what was some kind of clearing, or something. But he felt the sunlight on his face, and knew why it was. His eyesight was gone again, and he was okay with that.

A shriek cut through his thoughts, and he jerked his head up as someone shouted his name. “Kanan!”

It was Hera, her voice holding shock and joy and love, and Kanan heard her run towards him. But this time, he was running, too, and felt her slam into him. “You’re here,” she choked out, a sob shaking her body. “Ezra was right. I didn’t think--”

Kanan cut her off with a kiss, pulling her closer as she kissed him back. Breaking away from the kiss, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Hera let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words, love.”

“I-- wait.” Kanan froze. “How long was I gone? How long since the fuel depot?” Panic raced through him.

“Only three months,” Hera assured him, clearly catching his fear. “You’ve missed a lot. There’s some things we should talk about.”

“I bet,” Kanan muttered. “Okay, let’s go talk.”

Hera stepped away from him, but caught hold of his hand so she could lead him. “Right this way, dear.”

Kanan relished the sound of her voice as he walked with her, willing to wait through whatever they had to talk about next.

Well. Almost willing. “There’s… one thing that I have to ask you,” he said. “There was this weird thing that happened while I was gone-- it’s a long story. But something that happened made me think-- it might be stupid, but I just need to ask--”

Cutting him off, Hera said, “Just ask, love.”

“Right.” Taking a quick breath, Kanan asked, “Are you… pregnant?”

He felt her stop in her tracks, shock radiating through her. “I--” Hera paused, then let out a sigh. “I was planning on telling you myself, you know. Not sure I should be thanking your Jedi instincts on this one. But… yes. I’m pregnant.”

Holy. Kriff. “I’m gonna be a dad,” Kanan whispered, the words surreal but beautiful. They were real. I actually saw my kids. Which means-- Jacen.

A smile slipping across his face, he bent down and kissed Hera again. He knew things had to have changed, and he had a lot to catch up on. But he was with the woman he loved, and he had a lifetime to look forward to. They could handle it together.

[eclipsebythedawn]

Smothered Flames & Shadows (Part 1)

Hi guys! So this is my first fanfiction ever, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even good but I thought I wanted to share some Gwynriel with you all :) I have a sort of story planned out and this will likely have more parts. I’m pretty sure I will continue this story since I have more stuff planned out (hence the part 1) but right now it’s just some Gwynriel crumbs. Hope you guys will enjoy it and stay safe wherever you are. 

(How are we gonna wait like ten years for the Gwynriel book because I believe in you SJM you MUST MUST give us Gwynriel ??!) 

Ps. This is the updated version, I added a new chunk for Azriel’s reaction. (Updated on 26 April 2021)

Azriel's wings flapped as he patrolled the skies. The dense cloud cover as well as the fading sunlight disguised his presence and he needed minimal effort to remain hidden. His shadows could taste the looming chaos and flitted around him warningly.

Be careful, be careful.

He could hear through their thoughts and saw through their lingering words. All was quiet here, it seemed. He would much rather preferred to be stationed at the ethereally beautiful Dawn Court, their High Lord serene but with an inner strength that was unflappable, instead of... here.

The Autumn Court held no such delights. Yes, the scenery was more than picturesque -- its flora suspended in eternal autumn, the golden-brown leaves swirling leisurely through the air, their russet color so much like a certain male that was mated to a certain girl he could never have.

Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.

Unbidden, his brother's fury-driven words cut into his muddled thoughts. Azriel knew that he was old and cranky and Rhys didn't deserve his anger and resentment after what he went through for all of them, but he was... gods, he was so damn tired.

The first female outside of Mor who had caught his eyes -- of course she had to be denied from him. Cauldron knew that the Mother had never shone its light on him, not that he even deserved to be embraced by Her warmth.

His mind finally allowed him to remember the beautiful brunette always on the back of his mind. Her doe-like eyes, sweet smile and that alluring scent, so pure and innocent and arousing and --

Fuck.

Azriel adjusted himself, his pants stifling and uncomfortable. Shit. He was in deep shit. But he couldn't stop himself from fantasizing about how she would taste, how she would look when he made her come.

Rhys's words from the other day, during solstice so many months ago, hadn't helped. Azriel's desperate lust had only grown even more to the point that he was actively avoiding the second Archeron sister so she wouldn't scent his arousal.

For that matter, so his two brothers wouldn't catch him lusting after her especially after the warning he was given.

And she seemed to be avoiding him too.

Azriel made one more round in the skies, the night as chilly and familiar as his own shadows that seemed strangely subdued now. His thoughts continued to stray towards...

Elain.

Beautiful, clean, pure, worthy Elain. He was none of those things, he knew that. Had resigned himself to it after five centuries of futile pining for a female that never returned his desires. He did not blame Mor. Could not blame Mor. He was tainted and she deserved someone better than him.

But when he saw Elain... Their unlikely friendship had gradually turned into something more. It had only continued to develop after Elain was Made High Fae and he became even more attuned to her, constantly sharing the same space. And for the first time since Mor, he wanted. He wanted to have what his two brothers had. It was wrong and it was selfish, but he saw Rhys and Cassian and he wondered --

Maybe the Cauldron had made a mistake. Three sisters of blood and three brothers of choice. Two thirds fulfilled, and somewhere deep down inside, he had been uselessly, worthlessly holding onto hope.

He had not dared to whisper it out loud until Rhys caught him just before their kiss. And Rhys reaction had only served to remind him why he was wrong for her. Why Elain deserved someone else.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted to throw caution to the wind.

Deciding that all was well and not wanting to remain a second longer, Azriel gathered his shadows and prepared to winnow back to home. He frowned when his shadows flittered over him... disapprovingly?

Yes, that was disapproval. His lips tightened as they swirled around him angrily.

What the hell was wrong with them tonight?

Azriel yanked on his petulant shadows. They continued to ignore him, some even going as far as to ignore him.

He scowled. His shadows were stepping out of line more and more frequently as thought something was bothering him.

Or someone.

He shoved aside the image of tendrils dancing and singing around a certain redhead, her bright teal eyes laughing and --

Azriel forcibly winnowed and dragged his disobeying shadows after him, leaping across the miles between the Autumn Court and home within a single step, resigning himself to a lonely night -- as always.

~~~

The night was alive.

It was a comforting blanket draped over her, Gwyn mused silently.

But she felt dead.

It was going to be one of those nights, then. Those nights when she woke up screaming, drenched in sweat only to realize it was just another nightmare. That reality was like a noose tied around her neck, dragging her further down into the pits of Hell where she belonged.

She would never meet Catrin even in death. Because her lovely, beautiful sister who had shone like the brightest star was amongst the stars in the heavens. That single thought was the only thing pushing her forward on the worst of nights.

On nights where flinging herself out of a high balcony on the impossible chance that she would see Catrin again seemed possible. Gwyn had thought that that was before.

Before Nesta, before Emerie, before meeting her Valkyrie sisters whom she knew would and had walked with her through pain and darkness and led her back.

But even after so much training, nothing had changed. She was still the cowardly, timid, broken doll she thought she had left behind.

Gwyn sighed even as sadness and pain, always so much pain, swelled inside her. Logically she knew she wasn't thinking straight. If Nesta or Emerie were here, they would be chiding her for her thoughts, the former sharp but mindful, and the latter firm but gentle. A small smile came onto her faces at all the memories they shared.

The cutting of the ribbon. Winning the obstacle course that served as the Blood Rite Qualifier. And then winning the actual Blood Rite itself while Nesta -- unyielding, unflinching -- held the lines for Gwyn and Emerie to be crowned as Carynthians.

And now, Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. Despite everything she was feeling, Gwyn was happy for her friend.

Her sister by choice.

She knew Nesta deserved Cassian as he did her, and she felt genuine happiness for the pair. It was obvious during the long months of initial, grueling training that there was a spark between the two. An attraction that could not be denied.

She longed to find that love though in truth Gwyn knew she might never be ready for it.

Her point was further proven yesterday when Nesta had invited them during a break in training to her mating ceremony, held in a week's time. Gwyn knew that preparations were already underway and she was as honored and grateful as Emerie to be invited, but still she had hesitated, especially at the list of invited and accepted guests.

It wasn't mortifyingly long since Nesta only wanted close friends and family and Cassian only wanted the High Lord, Rhysand and Azriel, but the guest was filled with important names that made Gwyn nervous just to hear them.

The High Lord and High Lady were enough to make her dizzy. And then there was the High Lord's Second and Third, both formidable females in their own right. Gwyn thought wryly though that Emerie had seemed flustered and even blushed a little when her ears caught on a certain someone's name in the list Nesta had shared.

She was happy for her friend too. Emerie deserved friendship -- and love, if that relationship could blossom. But she knew better than interfere when her own relationships were so precarious.

The Prince of Adriata was coming, along with Mother above, the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion. Nesta's younger sister Elain was on the list as well though Nesta's face had clouded a bit when she read her name out loud. And then there was her mate -- Lucien Vanserra.

The supposedly exiled son of the High Lord of Autumn, who had ties to numerous Courts and was a valuable ally.

It was silly and stupid but amidst this sea of important names, Gwyn had wondered on more than one occasion what she could even do there. She had immediately scolded herself mentally, that she would be attending the ceremony for Nesta and even Cassian, who had become a bit of an older brother figure to her, and she would have Emerie with her.

She knew Emerie would fight anyone who dared to even look at her the wrong way.

But the larger part of Gwyn was scared. So many people would be attending, especially the males. It wasn't as if Helion or Lucien would randomly pounce on her, and that her fear was irrational, but she couldn't stop thinking about them. Couldn't stop thinking about that day where so many males surrounded her, where that hateful Hybern commander had ordered her held down, had pummeled into her as silent tears fell down her face, had laughed in her face and --

Gwyn counted the stars in the sky in time to her quickened breathing. Deep breaths, she told herself. When she couldn't sleep on nights like these she would train until nearly the breaking of dawn. She should get up from her position on the ground.

Probably.

But lying on the cold floor of the training area atop the House of Wind was a refreshing change. After having been coped up in the library for two years, she had finally decided to join Nesta in her morning training sessions with Cassian.

It was quite possibly the best decision she had ever made.

But still... But still, the doubt lingered. It festered. It thrived on her pain and self-hatred, quietly growing on nights like these.

It thrived at the fact that Emerie had accepted the invitation immediately, but Gwyn, worthless, selfish Gwyn had not. Was she so pathetic that she couldn't even congratulate her friend on her special day?

She should really get up. Perhaps train a bit more, instead of lying here wallowing in her dark thoughts.

Then a tiny tendril of shadow-kissed power gently prodded her arm. She startled, turning around and half-getting up.

She already knew who would be standing before her with his usual contemplative silence.

Azriel.

He was before her and she froze for one second. A twinge of fear crept in at his closeness, at the nearness of another male, so suddenly and unpredicted --

Azriel took a step back, saying softly, "I'm sorry if I surprised you."

Gwyn blinked. The shadowsinger was nothing but the epitome of manners and he had likely scented her fear.

"It's fine." And that was true. Her fear had instantly washed away as abruptly as it had arrived upon realizing who was here.

Azriel would never hurt her, Gwyn was sure of that.

She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence that had descended.

"Are you here for something?" She winced slightly at her choice of words. This was his home. She had no right to even utter such a question when she was the outsider.

Before Azriel could reply, another shadow darted out and wrapped itself around her arm before rushing back to its master. Gwyn felt the corners of her lips twitched up as the shadowsinger blinked once, twice in... shock.

"Did you forget your favorite dagger again?" She teased and was rewarded with a faint blush on his cheeks. His lovely and if she dared say, adorable shadows had given her the courage she needed.

To her surprise, he played along. "Have you seen an eighteen-inch dagger anywhere?"

Gwyn burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement.

"May I remind you that it's a dagger you have misplaced -- not a sword?"

"Forgive me if my memory fails sometimes." Was she seeing things or was there a twinkle in his eyes?

"Well, you do seem to forget things rather easily." Oh, she was certain! Amusement ran deep inside his hazel eyes and Gwyn felt breathless for a second, mesmerized by the beautiful male.

Staring into his eyes... She smiled at him, a genuine crinkling of her eyes. He had lifted her mood within seconds of his arrival.

Azriel seemed to freeze for a second, his usual stillness somehow magnifying. Intensifying. His shadows writhed around and she had the odd feeling that he was struggling to control them.

She blinked, and the moment passed.

"Were you training?" Azriel motioned towards her sweaty body. She nodded mutely, still caught up in what had occurred. Was it just her imagination? Looking at the stoic Illyrian standing before her, Gwyn decided she was just too tired, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

"...My help?"

Gwyn snapped out of her thoughts, head jerking up. "What?"

Azriel cocked an eyebrow at her obvious inattentiveness and she felt herself blushing. She chided herself mentally.

"Do you require my help?" He repeated the question, that faint amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"Wait. Are you asking to train me?" Another eyebrow raise.

"Were you expecting me to teach you the benefits of lying on the cold floor in the middle of the night?" He replied dryly.

Gwyn scowled and immediately stood up.

"Uh-huh. I was expecting you to fling your arms about and start serenading me."

"Is that a demand?" Azriel chuckled quietly. Gwyn thought that might be the most heavenly sound she had ever heard.

"Is that a challenge?" Gwyn shot back, not missing a beat.

The corners of his lips twitched up. Gwyn wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, her competitive streak setting in. She was also excited for this match because truth be told, she had been training everyday in anticipation of wiping the floor with the shadowsinger. It was her secret fantasy.

Not that it would happen anytime still but... Still.

"You can help me with my training. But on one condition."

Azriel contemplated her more seriously before he nodded his head.

"We fight now. Hand-to-hand."

~~~

The night was alive.

And Gwyneth Berdara was the full moon that accompanied it, shining brightly even amidst the darkness. She was so lovely, yet he sensed something pure and burning thriving inside her. His shadows yearned to flit around her, touch her, dance and sing for her. He had to keep them on a tight leash, and they were unhappy.

Little tendrils of darkness swirled around him petulantly. They wanted to go to Gwyn. Would have gone to her without his intervention. One stray thread snuck out and nearly coiled around Gwyn's wrist before he snatched it back in time. He could have sworn his own shadows growled at him. But he had bigger things to focus on.

Like the fact that Gwyn had just challenged Azriel to a duel.

Once again, his shadows had failed to mention that she was here. There was no quick escape that didn't end in awkwardness so he had stayed -- and so far he was... contented. Being around her seemed to have that effect on himself.

She was humming to herself as she stretched, preparing her body before their fight. His shadows buzzed around excitedly, seeming to forget about their earlier disagreement. He supposed there was no question who they were rooting for.

"Ready?" He asked Gwyn. She nodded, then held up a hand.

"Wait." She retied her ponytail, not letting even a single strand of her coppery chestnut obstructing her vision. He admired her competitiveness, her courage and strength in always fighting for the best.

Meeting her by chance here again reminded him of solstice, and his mind wandered to Elain before he slammed down his thoughts.

Focus. He had watched and trained Gwyn enough to know that she was a threat: an emerging dark horse that proved unpredictable and cunning. He also knew she had silently studied his fighting style enough to know more than just a few of his preferred tricks.

They circled each other, neither one of them making the first move.

He had drilled into her what signs to look out for, what feints and what blockings would be an unexpected yet effective counterattack that he was more than a little wary.

Still, he decided to make the first move, which was so out of his usual style that he hoped she would be unprepared. He had the feeling that she already knew he was going to attack first though as she sidestepped him and threw a punch.

Like he was expecting. He grabbed it and pulled her towards him to jilt her balance, but she was already expecting that and swept out her leg, forcing him to move unless he wanted to end up on the ground. The next move he had perfected to mastery.

He pretended to feint left when he was actually aiming for the left. A cheap shot, but he had also taught her that no real fights were clean and honest. She twisted her body but they both knew she wouldn't dodged in time.

At the last moment, his shadows decided to move and --

Capture his fucking hand. They wrapped themselves around him and his eyes widened as he was stopped mid-throw by his own shadows. The scenario would have been laughable if he wasn't in so much disbelief. They had never outright hindered him in any battles before.

He cursed, barely dodging the next kick Gwyn sent his way. They broke apart again and Gwyn asked, "Something wrong?" She glanced towards his wayward shadows and he had a strong feeling she knew.  

He shook his head, glaring at his swirling shadows. They just blinked up at him innocently.

Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. Lovely mistress lovely mistress lovely mistress.

He gritted his teeth. Their fancy for Gwyn had reached the point of obsession but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she squinted and then broke into a grin.

"Aha. I thought I saw your little friends earlier." At her words, his shadows flew towards her joyfully, happy to be recognized. Azriel rubbed his neck as his shadows neared Gwyn, knowing that she had to secretly hate them for being so ugly and tainted and unworthy --

Gwyn bent down. What she did next would stay in his memories forever. Holding out an arm, she let his shadows coiled around the entire length, wisps of midnight trailing her as she walked towards Azriel.

His shadows were happier than he had ever known them to be. He could feel their joy with every step she took, sense the way they were telling him to look look look look.

Then Gwyn smiled at him, her teal eyes so clear and large.

"Your shadows are beautiful."

~~~

"Your shadows are beautiful."

Azriel stood still. His entire body was frozen, and even his heart seemed to cease its beating.

Gwyn took a step back at whatever expression was on his face. What she said... Did she understand that what she said -- no one had ever deigned to voice before?

Did she look at his hideous soul and scarred hands?

Did she see how truly stained he was?

He wanted to believe she did. He had never wanted something more than Gwyn seeing him, truly seeing him be true. But if it were true...

How could his shadows be beautiful?

"I'm -- I'm sorry for stepping out of line." She stuttered out, her eyes wide.

Azriel glanced up sharply, snapped out of his trance. She looked horrified and was stammering out another apology, her pitch high and wobbly.

Shit.

Before he could process what he was saying, words tumbled out of his mouth, aided by the push of an impatient shadow desperate to right all things wrong.

"It is I who should be apologizing." His voice was a soft whisper in the night breeze. Gwyn paused halfway through her long speech and she stood there gaping at him.

"I am sorry, Gwyn." Azriel truly was. He could feel the shame gnawing at him. Yet another mistake. Yet another disappointment. He was a lowly half-breed bastard. His "little friends" curled around his tightening fists anxiously. He could not quite meet her eyes as chagrin dragged him down and whispered,"I should not have reacted the way I did."

He did not know what to expect. The infamous spymaster that was Azriel could never anticipate any of Gwyn's actions. She was an enigma, a mystery that constantly evaded him, the light at the end of the tunnel that shied away from him at every twist and turn.

He saw Gwyn take a deep breath from his peripheral vision and steeled himself. He gathered the remnants of his scattered mask, ready to return to just the High Lord's spymaster.

And then Gwyn spoke.

"I... I do not know your story. I do not know the dark tales that define your past. But I know you. And I know that whatever it is... It does not define you. It does not define the male I see standing before me. It cannot define the male who saved my very life, who --" Here her voice caught and she had to stop for a moment.

Azriel's heart clenched painfully. He did not know why but... He wanted to hug her and show her that her past had never defined her. Not for him, not for Nesta or Emerie and he wanted her to know that it shouldn't for herself.

"Who placed that cloak upon me with such gentle hands." She continued softly, gazing down at his scarred palms. And for the first time in a sea of forever, Azriel did not feel the urge to hide his shadow-kissed hands. Those same shadows began to swirl towards Gwyn and she did not flinch.

She only continued staring at him with those eyes that could see through everything. Did he want them to see through him? Yes.

She sees. And she is not afraid. Azriel's shadows basked them in a cocoon of living darkness.

"I refuse to let your past define you. I do not accept that. So fight. Your story... even if it never comes to me, there is nothing it can tell me that I don't already know. You are brave, thoughtful and so, so kind. You and Cassian trusted me to survive and conquer the Rite as you two had trusted Nesta and Emerie. If not then both of you would have stormed in immediately, and no law could have overruled you. So please... Please believe in me like you did. Just this once, if nothing else." Gwyn finished a little breathlessly and he knew she had rushed through the last part because she was nervous.

But somehow the bit that stuck out to him was her thinking he used to believe in her. He did, but used to? He still did. And he wanted her to know that, more than anything. He wanted Gwyn to know that he had never stop believing in her.

And seeing Gwyn's crestfallen face as each second passed and he still remained silently, he knew she was thinking the worst.

He wanted her smile back. His shadows wanted that too.

But more than anything, they both wanted her to sing again. And looking at her dispirited expression, at that moment even his shadows were unsure whether she would find her voice again.

She had spilled her thoughts to him, and he was standing there like an idiot.

Your words, Azriel. Use your words.

His shadows were begging him to say something. Anything, please please please.

As she turned to leave, he finally found his voice. The voice she unknowingly helped him find.

"Gwyn, I'm sorry -- please wait." She paused, hesitating as her eyes met his. Azriel did not know what to say. He was incapable of saying anything but "sorry", that word so pathetic and useless. Sorry was not enough when Rhys was captured by Amarantha. Sorry was not enough when Feyre was forced to sacrifice herself for their -- for his sake. Sorry was not enough when Elain was taken away by the Cauldron in the middle of the night.

Sorry had never been enough and never would be. Azriel was a stupid, foolish idiot.

"Azriel." Gwyn spoke his name softly. He tore himself away from his useless thoughts and looked at her.

She... did not look upset. She did not look angry, nor sad, nor frustrated. Instead, understanding lay in those warm teal eyes.

"I'm not pushing you to share about yourself. You are not obliged to just because I rambled on about my thoughts." Gwyn's eyes were indeed filled with apology and remorse though she had a small smile.

"You will always be my friend. And I will wait for you, even if the day you want to share about yourself never comes. Because I know you will do the same for me."

Somehow, in that moment when even time seemed to have held its breath, when even the Mother seemed to be watching, Azriel felt something in him shifted. In the distant, he could have sworn a phoenix's song filled his veins, a song of smothered flames and shadows.

"Besides, I think the silent, brooding type fits you better than Cassian's I-wrecked-one-tiny-unimportant-useless-building hotheadedness." Gwyn teased.

The distant calling seemed to grow louder, and Azriel could have sworn --

He could have sworn that a faraway glow beckoned him. And his shadows were more restless than ever, nearly tearing away from their master in their excitement.

So when Gwyn grinned at him, he smiled back.

The stars twinkling overhead seemed to beam back too. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt contented. It was a feeling he had not experienced since... Since solstice. And back then he was with Gwyn, too, he realized abruptly. It was this female before him who had brought him not once, but twice such longed-for peace and quiet.

Gwyn was wrong. It was not his shadows who were beautiful.

It was her.

It was the Valkyrie who had walked beside Death -- and never cowered.

Never feared, never faltered.

Gwyneth Berdara was a secret, lovely beauty.

Sorry for any grammatical errors (or just errors in general) since I’m writing on my own right now. Thanks for reading and stay tune for part 2 <3

Updated comment: Hi guys, so I added a new bit about Azriel’s reaction. I was planning out the whole story so it’s taking a while and I’m sorry about the wait. I’m nearly done with planning things out chapter-by-chapter so part 2 is on its way. Thank you for staying with me 

xoxo

Dawn ~

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[princess-of-riviaa]

Dark Minx: Touching the Asset

Training the Asset

Showing the Asset

Pairing: slight Hydra!Steve x OFC (Larisa Antonov), James Barnes x OFC (Larisa Antonov)

Summary: Larisa’s jealousy of James’s sudden success comes to a boiling point.

Warning(s): angsty angst, (sort of) FWB!Steve, Hydra!Steve, James is very good at pretending he knows what he’s doing, dirty talk, fingering, oral (F receiving), slight pain kink (hair pulling), fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Larisa heard the reports whispered between guards in the hallways of Hydra’s base: “The Asset took the Dark Minx’s lessons to another level,” “I never would have pegged The Winter Soldier for the seducing type, but he seemed to do pretty well on his last mission,” “The Winter Soldier is making a new name for himself through Europe with all the women he’s been with.” Larisa knew not to be surprised by this, and deep down, she knew she wasn’t. But she couldn’t ignore the pang in her chest that came with every word spoken about The Asset these days. That wet, bitter feeling in her chest was foreign. She had no idea what it was, only that she hated it. The feeling made her angry. In the weeks that followed The Asset’s first mission since their training lessons, Larisa’s temper stayed on a short leash. She found herself snapping at those around her more often. But no one called her out on it.

Until Steve found himself in her chamber one day, balls deep inside of her. She clenched the sheets between her fingers as he fucked her from behind. The occasional slap of his hand against her ass made her cry out wantonly, but she was otherwise silent. She couldn’t stop thinking about James fucking those nameless women on his missions. Was he rough with them, the way Steve was with her now? Or was he gentle, slow, teasing? Did he lose himself in their bodies, in the way they stretched around his cock? Did those women make him moan and cry out with ecstasy, the way she longed to do?

Larisa was so lost in her torturous thoughts that she didn’t realize Steve had stopped fucking her until the bed shifted with the absence of his weight. She watched him clean himself up. His gaze was curious as he stared at her.

“How often have you been thinking about him fucking you?” he asked suddenly.

Larisa froze. Was she really that easy to read? “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re—”

“You said his name when I was inside of you,” Steve pointed out. Upon seeing Larisa’s eyes widen, he shrugged and added, “I could care less about who’s name you cry out when we fuck. This is transactional to both of us, an itch we both need to scratch.”

Yes, that had been the deal they’d made almost a year ago now. When they needed a release and Steve wasn’t going to find it on a mission, or Larisa with a soldier she was training, they could come to each other. No strings attached. Just sex. Rough, wild, animalistic sex—exactly what they both craved deep down.

Steve went on, “I’m only saying this because I’d rather have you around than not: but be careful. If any of our commanders find out your relationship to The Asset is more than what it’s supposed to be—if they catch word that there’s any sort of emotions involved, they’ll get rid of both of you.” They’ll kill you, is what he didn’t say. “It would be a pain in my ass to find someone else in this place who fucks as good as you do, so try not to let that happen.”

Larisa didn’t know what to say. That was the closest to “nice” that Steve had ever been with her. His edges were all rough, his personality a rough callous. “Sentimental” wasn’t a word she would use to describe him. Yet here he was, warning her to stay out of trouble. Telling her that he would miss her.

“Here I was thinking Hydra’s Golden Boy didn’t have a heart,” she finally remarked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Steve didn’t take the bait, but the look in his eyes said enough. He really would be upset if something happened to her.

She admitted in a quiet voice, “You know that all of that… I’d say the same to you.” She was bad at this, at talking about emotions, at letting herself care about someone. She didn’t really know how to put it into words.

But from the look in his eyes, she knew that Steve heard what she wasn’t able to say. “Until next time,” he said, and then left.

…

“It’s been decided that you’ve more than excelled in everything that I can teach you,” Larisa said to James the next day. She didn’t look him in the eye, nor did she speak to him in the soft tone she usually reserved for him. In fact, she hadn’t uncrossed her arms since he’d entered her room. “So we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh.” Was that… disappointment in his voice?

No. She was reading into things. And even if he was disappointed… it didn’t matter. She’d barely see him after today. Whatever they had was done.

“What did I do wrong?” James asked after a minute of tense silence.

She looked at him for the first time today. God, he was beautiful. She would miss being this close to him every day. But she couldn’t find it in herself to say anything, not when opening her mouth would just bring trouble.

“You’re acting strange,” James noted, taking a step towards where she leaned against the wall. “You’re not normally like this.” He swallowed. “Not around me, at least.”

She looked away from him, bringing her eyes to the floor.

“What did I do wrong?” he repeated.

“Nothing.” Her voice was thick with bitterness. “You did it all perfectly. You fucked those women just like you were supposed to.”

James blinked. “Wait—is this about my missions?”

She didn’t say anything. The look on her face was answer enough, though.

He took another step towards her. His stride was long enough that he closed the distance between them, and suddenly his hand was on her cheek, his thumb brushing along the line of her jaw in a gentle caress. She wanted to lean into it. She wanted to cry.

“Are you… jealous?” he finally asked.

“No!” she said too quickly, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, not believing her for a second. “You sound jealous. You look it, too.”

Her face burned enough that she couldn’t find words.

“You’re jealous of those women,” he realized, “because you want me to fuck you.”

She swallowed. If she opened her mouth now, all bets were off. She’d give into her desire and that… that wouldn’t end well.

But then James’s face was buried in the crook of her neck, and his hands were on her hips, and her vision grew blurry as her heart shot to her throat. “I’ve wanted you since that first day,” he confessed, his words a caress against her skin. “Long before you ever touched me for the first time. It scared me—how much I wanted you, the things I would do to have you. Let me have you, Larisa. Please.”

She tried to push him away, but as soon as her hands pressed against his stomach, she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but bask in the warmth radiating off of him. “We can’t—”

“Give me a bad report, tell whoever you have to that my skills aren’t sufficient enough for you to stop training me.” He brushed his mouth against the space between her ear and neck and it took everything inside of her to keep from moaning. “Because one way or another, I’m coming back here tomorrow. And the next day. Now that I know you want me back, Larisa, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“James…” It came out as more of a moan than a whine of protest.

“Let me make love to you,” he breathed against her skin. “Let me touch you. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum again and again, until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t even see straight.”

Now she was definitely moaning.

He circled his thumbs around her hips, suddenly antsy to touch her somewhere else. “Can I touch you, Larisa?”

“Please.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she didn’t have a chance to take it back before his hand was between her legs.

He leaned his forehead against her own. Their shaking breaths morphed into one as her entire body burned with heat. James moved his hand in circles over her clothed core, providing just enough pressure for her hips to start bucking up with need.

“I want you so bad,” he breathed against her skin.

She moaned. “What do you want?”

“To fuck you. To make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse,” he answered as he leaned down—not to kiss her, but to tug her bottom lip between his teeth.

Her hands jumped to his shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him even closer to her. She had no doubt that her desperation was written all over her face. She wondered if that was what made James catch his breath and curse in another language—Russian, she had learned a few weeks ago. It was the language he reverted back to when arousal clouded his mind past the point of speaking coherently. And the fact that he was thinking it now…

She pulled him in for a kiss. It was quick and needy and messy, a mix of tongue and teeth and shaking breaths. And when he moved to pull away, to kiss down her neck, she pulled him back to her mouth. Because if she didn’t, if she gave herself a chance to speak… She knew exactly what she would say. She would beg him to fuck her. And that would… complicate things, to say the least. So they continued to kiss until her lips were swollen and she was drunk on the taste of him.

When he finally pulled away, it was quick. He was on his knees before she could stop him. He kept his gaze on her as he tugged her pants down, and that darkness in his eyes…

“Fuck,” she gasped, practically whimpered.

He only looked away from her when he was face to face with her sex. James really did figure out the proper way to touch a woman, because he dragged two fingers between her folds with expertise, knowing the exact pressure to apply to her clit as he started to rub it.

Larisa threw her head back. The moan she released could barely be muffled by the hand she clamped over her mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, fuck,” James breathed. And then he shoved a finger inside of her. He looked up at her as he started to finger her, watching her face closely as he increased his pace before backing off and changing to a teasingly slow tempo. “You’re so fucking sexy, Larisa. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this to you—about making you come undone from just my fingers.”

She began to grind her hips against his finger, desperate for him to increase his pace.

“I want you to cum all over my face,” he told her as he threw her leg over his shoulder, and then his mouth was on her clit and—

“James!” she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth fell open.

She’d been fucked by plenty of skilled men before, but this time was different. All of those men… none of them had mattered. She hadn’t cared about any of them. But James… she cared about him, whether she was ready to admit it or not. And that made this so much more intense.

If she thought James had skilled fingers, it was nothing compared to his mouth. He moved his tongue between her folds and along her clit as if he’d spent years doing this, as if he already knew every spot to touch to push her all over the edge. He latched his hands around her hips, pulling her sex even tighter against his face, as if he felt that same desperation that she did—the desperate need to get infinitely closer to him. The sound of his eager tongue lapping up her juices filled the room, followed by her breathy moans and his lustful groans.

She didn’t realize she’d dug her hands into his hair until his moans grew louder. Oh, he likes that. She tugged at his roots slightly. James moaned wantonly in response. His mouth was suddenly ferocious against her pussy and she felt that delicious heat in her core grow. She was close. She was so fucking close.

“James,” she gasped. “I’m gonna... fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He breathed something against her clit in Russian. The vibration of his voice against her heat was the final straw. He continued to eagerly eat her out as she came, soaking his face with her arousal. She couldn’t quiet her moans this time, nor could she stop from crying out his name. James licked up every last drop before he finally rose to his feet.

The look in his eyes made her burn. Not because it was full of lust—which it was—but because there was another emotion there. An emotion that Larisa felt too, despite how dangerous it was.

When he kissed her, she told herself she was moaning because of the taste of her carousal on his mouth, not because he kissed her with such intensity that she knew he had feelings for her.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I think about you every time I’m with someone else?” he breathed against her mouth.

“James…” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Every. Single. Time.” He leaned his forehead against hers and breathed in deeply, as if memorizing her scent, before he reluctantly Stepped back. “I have another mission, but can I see you when I come back? I should return tomorrow night.”

She hesitated. She should say no, she knew that, but… “Come back in one piece, then you can visit me.”

That was the last time she ever saw The Winter Soldier.

...

Tag squad:

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[gubler-me-up]

Missing in Action

Request: Can you write a fanfic where Hotch's daughter gets kidnapped and Hotch and his team have to find her?

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! This is my first Hotch request and I usually don’t write for Hotch but everyone needs a lil challenge here and there right? I’ve decided to make this a two parter because I love suspense and since they asked for a fanfiction imma give them a fanfiction. Hey, it might even be three parts who knows? Hopefully y’all enjoy it, I’ve watched a lot of The FBI Files lately so I’m adding a ~sprinkle~ of that in here as well. I was very nervous while writing this but hopefully it’s decent 😬 p.s. I put y/n still so you can insert yourself as Hotch’s daughter if you’d like or create a name whatever floats your boat

Category: Angst

Content warning: Kidnapping, mention of violence, crime scene, blood

Word count: 2.5k

————-

Hotch packed up his briefcase for the day. He had promised his daughter he would pick her up from soccer practice. He had also promised her and Jack they would go out for dinner since they hadn’t done so in months. He had instructed Jack to meet his older sister at the soccer field after his school book club meeting was over.

He looked at the time on his watch and saw it was quarter to six. The two of them were probably already ridiculing him because of his tardiness. He checked his phone to see if she had texted him complaining yet. There was no notification which caused him to raise an eyebrow. Y/N was usually very vocal about her dad being late when he was the one always telling them about being punctual.

To his surprise his phone started to ring. For an instant, he thought it could have been Y/N calling him but the caller ID said Unknown Caller. He hesitantly answered it, anxious to know who would be on the other line. Before he could even greet the other person on the line, he heard Jack’s voice yelling in a panic.

“Jack, buddy, slow down. What do you mean your sister was taken?” Hotch asked.

The next few words Jack told him sounded unreal to him. His mind couldn’t process even the slightest possibility of Jack’s story to be true. Jack had seen a black car pull up at the corner of the sidewalk where his sister was standing waiting for him. He was just a block away when he saw a man jump out of the backseat and grab Y/N. He shoved her in the back and then the driver sped off.

“Jack, where are you right now? You’re at school? Okay, stay there for now. The police are at the scene right now? Okay, okay, I’ll be there soon. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and for once didn’t know where to begin. His mind was racing in overtime trying to think of who it possibly could be, if Y/N was okay and how long he had to find her. He ran out of his office to go towards the bullpen. He watched as everyone stared at him in confusion as he tried to form the right words to tell them.

Everyone had already packed up for the day and were almost on their way out by the time Hotch came to them. The look on his face was one they hadn’t seen since Haley’s death. They anticipated the worst to words to leave Hotch’s mouth.

“Y/N was kidnapped. We have to act now.”

Every single team member’s face filled with dread as they realized how little time they had to find Y/N safe. With no other words exchanged between anyone they made their way to the briefing room. Hotch let everyone walk in front of him as he still tried his best to comprehend the whole situation.

He felt someone gently touch his shoulder. He turned around to see Rossi looking at him with his famous look of determination. It was visible to him Hotch was in a place of discouragement that he had to break out of if he wanted to get his daughter.

“We’ll find her, Aaron,” Rossi said.

“We realistically only have two and a half hours before the possibility of finding her alive becomes slim. We have to make a move on these sons of bitches now,” Hotch said.

Rossi nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They made their way into the briefing room as soon as Garcia pulled up phone records from Y/N phone. Hotch sat down as he analyzed the screen in silence, checking every phone number to see if there was one out of place. His eyebrow raised as he saw a number he didn’t recognize and it only showed up once in her call log. She had ignored the call and according to the time the call was made she was taken about five minutes after.

“Garcia, can you check if the last number on her call log is anywhere else in her call or text history?” Hotch asked.

“Of course, sir,” she said before searching for the number.

She pulled up a text message sent to Y/N. It was an attachment. It was sent recently which confused everyone considering they already had her in their grips. Garcia went ahead and opened the attachment to reveal the picture. It was a letter addressed to Hotch.

Aaron Hotchner,

Expect a call from us around 7 p.m. You have my word your daughter will be safe until then. It’s up to you to agree or disagree with our demands which will ultimately determine her fate.

“Garcia, can you trace the number?” Hotch asked.

“It’s a burner number from an app. It’s out of service now, but I will trace Y/N’s location on her phone,” she said.

“We have about half an hour to go over possible suspects who could be responsible for this,” Morgan said.

“It seems personal, so it’s more than likely that Hotch and the perpetrator have come into contact. It seems especially personal since they want to call Hotch to tell him what they want from him instead of detailing it in the ransom letter,” Reid said.

“It seems whoever wrote the letter is the leader since he says ‘we’ and ‘our’ but only says ‘my’ when referring to keeping his word of keeping Y/N safe,” JJ said.

“Jack said there were two men who had abducted her but it’s less than likely the leader of the group would be one of the two doing the kidnapping. For now, we know there are three suspects but there could be more. Morgan, Prentiss and Reid will go to the kidnapping scene while the rest of us wait here for the call to come. Please bring Jack here when you’re done at the scene. He’s at school waiting to be picked up,” Hotch ordered.

Morgan, Reid and Prentiss nodded as they got up from their seats. They left the room in urgency as the time was slowly ticking away on Y/N. Hotch didn’t take his eyes off the screen as Garcia did her best to search for the phone. JJ and Rossi looked at him as they tried to remain calm for him. They knew as soon as Hotch found out he had his daughter it would send him over the edge. They wanted to avoid a possible repeat of the Foyet situation.

A map popped up on the screen with a red dot pinging on the location of Y/N’s phone. It was pinging in a lake not too far from the area Y/N. was last seen. Garcia touched her throat as she felt it run dry as she thought of the worst. She looked over to Hotch who was already looking in her direction. He looked calm and collected enough for the whole room.

“Don’t worry, Garcia. She’s still alive, they just dumped her phone, so we can’t trace them. Don’t give in to their fear tactics,” Hotch said.

Garcia took a jagged breath. “Of course, sir.”

“JJ, call Prentiss to inform them to go by the lake just off highway 66. Let’s pull up the street footage to see if the camera’s caught the getaway car.”

————

“Agents.”

Morgan, Reid and Prentiss looked over at where the voice had come from. They saw detective Broderick of the Arlington police department walking towards them. Morgan and Prentiss held their hands out to greet him with a handshake while Reid waved. He walked them over to the area where Y/N was taken from.

The area was riddled with pylons to identify every piece of evidence. They saw there was a trail of shattered glass on the road. Morgan went over to look at the pieces. He took out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket to put on. He picked up a shard to examine it.

“We sent samples of the glass to the FBI forensics lab in D.C., so hopefully we can determine the make of the car that way,” detective Broderick said.

“Our tech analyst is looking through street camera footage to see if the car was caught driving through this area. Y/N must have kicked out the backseat window, so someone could see her. Dangerous move, but helpful,” Morgan said.

“We should also get some of your officers down to the lake off highway 66. Y/N’s phone’s there but there could be other evidence there as well,” Prentiss instructed.

“You got it. You think they’re going towards the D.C. area? Should I send units out that way?” He asked.

“Not exactly. They could have just dumped her phone there and other items to throw us off. They’re most likely still in state because they still have to call Hotch. Whatever exchange that needs to take place has to take place nearby,” Reid said.

“Makes sense. I’ll send some cops down to that area for you.”

As detective Broderick radioed in for police officers to the location of where Y/N’s phone was, Reid noticed something on a piece of glass. He took out his latex gloves to put on before crouching next to the shard. He picked it up and saw what appeared to be blood. Then he noticed another shard with more of the red substance on it.

He called over an officer to give him an evidence collection bag. The officer handed over a bag to him. Spencer put both shards into the bag. As he tried to look for any more shards on the ground that could potentially be evidence, he saw Prentiss walk into his sight. She crouched down close to him but she looked at a completely different area of glass shards.

“I think that might be a partial print,” she said.

“Where?” Reid asked.

She pointed at a shard in front of her. She carefully picked it up to show Reid in the reflection of the dim sunlight a possible partial print. Reid nodded his head in agreement to the fact that it could be a partial print.

“Let’s get this to the lab along with the other shards in this specific area. Maybe we can find another shard with the rest of the fingerprint or even a palm print somewhere.”

———

Hotch, JJ, Rossi and Garcia waited around the round table for the call to come through. They were informed of the evidence being processed at the FBI forensics lab in D.C. for clear identification. They had also been informed that the area where Y/N’s phone was found also had her soccer bag tossed into the river as well. They were still actively combing the area for any further evidence.

Garcia managed to identify the car as a black 2002 Mercedes Benz C Class sedan. The license plates weren’t visible on camera due to the angles they were taken. She didn’t have any success finding that type of car registered to anyone in the Arlington area who had been near the abduction site.

All the information Hotch was receiving was sticking in his mind and he continuously thought of who could be behind his daughter’s kidnapping. He would have honestly rather they have shot him and spare her of any trauma. He swore he would never let anyone harm his family again and it seemed as if no matter what he did nothing protected his family from the demons of his job.

The clock struck 7 p.m. and his eyes darted to his phone on the table. Everyone else’s eyes also followed his gaze. They were anxiously waiting for the call too. They wanted to find Y/N in one piece just as much Hotch did but they couldn’t even fathom the agony he was in being helpless in this situation. His daughter’s fate laid in one phone call.

JJ jerked in her seat as she felt her phone vibrate. Her anxiety towards the situation was heavy for her that it almost felt as if she was in his seat. Her heart still pounded as she looked at her phone even though she knew it was probably only a text from Prentiss updating her about the situation. Which she was correct about but her heart still pounded and her hands still shook from the sudden vibration of her phone.

“They found a tire track, so they’re going to run that by the lab as well,” she said.

Hotch’s phone rang. The sound of everybody in the room taking a deep breath was the only sound next to Garcia typing away as she got ready to track the call. Hotch calmly picked up the phone even as the burning rage inside of him tried its best to come out. He had to resist any hostility during the call at all cost.

“Hotchner,” Hotch said.

“Aaron Hotchner. Glad you picked up,” the distorted voice said.

“What do you want for the safe return of my daughter?” He asked.

“Is this the same guy who doesn’t make deal with people like me? Isn’t that what you said when George Foyet wanted to cut a deal with you? Why the sudden change in song?” The voice asked.

“And look how that turned out,” he said.

“I wouldn’t harm your daughter but if you try to find me as I know your team already is I’ll have no choice to.”

“Tell me what you want and we’ll stop hunting you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“I need $500,000 dropped off at 3600 17th street north by 9 p.m. and your daughter will be returned safely to you. She will be in the forest nearby waiting for you. If you deviate from this plan I will not hesitate to inform my partner to shoot her. Are we clear, Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not want to hear your daughter? It’s chilling knowing you don’t want to know for sure if she’s alive or not.”

“I know she’s alive. You can’t fool me with your fake confidence. You and I know you’re going to keep me playing this count and mouse game until 9 p.m. when you realize you messed with the wrong person.”

“Charming, Aaron. We’ll chat later.”

They hung up without another word exchanged. Hotch looked over at Garcia but she slowly shook her head in defeat with tears gradually forming in her eyes. She wasn’t able to ping a signal to the call.

“I think they’re blocking the signal because I can’t find a tower they’re boun-”

“That’s okay. I have a feeling I know who it is,” Hotch said.

Everyone raised a curious eyebrow to what Hotch had revealed. Though the conversation was short and mainly to the point, Hotch had listened out for a few key aspects. The most telling aspect he noticed made him confident in knowing who it was.

“You know them?” JJ asked.

“Yes. I know from the way they said, “charming, Aaron,” Hotch explained.

“Okay, so who’s the guy?” Rossi asked.

“It’s not a guy. It’s a woman.”

—–

MASTERLIST

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[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 13

part 1 | part 12 | part 14

A/N: Here’s a cute little part. Occurs in ‘the headband’ episode, but doesn’t encompass the whole episode, just the important parts :)

Y/N sat there in silence after Aang told her what he had learned in just one day at a Fire Nation school. What did that mean for her education of five years at one? She tugged one of their blankets around her shoulders because even next to the fire she was shivering. She felt like she had been punched hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of her. 

“I don’t know about this,” Aang whispered. “It feels wrong to steal someone else’s clothes.”

Katara and Y/N exchanged a look. “I call the silk robe!” Katara shouted as she jumped over the rocks they had hidden behind. 

“But I guess if it’s for the good of humanity… I call the suit!” Aang followed her. 

The rest of them joined and ran between the lines of clothes looking for anything that might fit. Y/N was reaching for a pair of pants when Katara stopped her. “Pick something else.”

“Why?”

“People are used to seeing you wear Fire Nation clothes. You’ll be more recognizable if you pick something you always wear.”

“Fine.” Y/N wrinkled her nose and pulled a deep red skirt from the clothesline. 

“This too.” She whipped a shirt at Y/N’s face. When she caught a look at it she shook her head wildly. “No way!” Y/N worked to keep her voice low so the man they were stealing from couldn’t hear her. “It’ll be hard enough to fight in a skirt, Katara. I’m not wearing it.”

---

Y/N poked at the bare skin of her midriff. “I mean seriously, Katara. I have to shrug this shirt on like it’s a robe and it ties in the back. If a bad guy gets ahold of that I’ll be half-naked.”

Katara pulled her hair out of its braids and hair loopies and didn’t spare a glance at the other girl. “You complain almost as much as Sokka.”

Y/N huffed and crossed her arms. “I don’t.” She unwound the leather tie around her braid and let her hair hang loose down her back, tying a similar top knot to Katara’s. “Let’s just go find the others.”

“How do we look?” Katara asked the other three. Y/N gave a very unenthusiastic twirl. Y/N turned back to notice how Aang’s eyes widened and he blushed as he looked at Katara. Y/N raised an eyebrow and glanced at Katara’s face, who was looking back at Aang with soft eyes. What is going on here? Y/N hummed in thought.

“You look like a girl,” Sokka said as his eyes bounced from Y/N’s skirt to her face. 

“Thank you for that astute observation. I am a girl,” Y/N replied drily. 

Sokka was blushing furiously. “No, I mean–”

“Oh, Katara. Your necklace,” Aang interrupted. 

Katara rubbed the carved bone. “I guess it’s pretty obviously from the Water Tribe.”

“Don’t worry,” she patted Katara’s shoulder. “We’ll get you something else in town so it doesn’t feel like you lost it.”

 ---

Y/N slid the new bracelet she had bought around her upper arm while she listened to Aang talk. All of them bought something to make their disguises more authentic, while also being able to feel more like themselves; a new Fire Nation necklace for Katara, a flame pin to hold together Sokka’s top knot, a headband for Toph and the bracelet to help hide the burn scar on Y/N’s bicep. 

“I used to visit my friend Kuzon here a hundred years ago. Just follow my lead.” Aang confidently turned the corner of the building they were behind and winked at a guy on the street. “Greetings, my good hotman!”

Toph pulled on Y/N’s elbow. “Is this really how they talk in the Fire Nation?”

“Uhh.. you know, I didn’t go into the city much but I’m almost one hundred percent positive that no they don’t,” Y/N whispered.

“Spirits, do not stop him. This is hilarious,” Toph laughed as Aang tipped his head to another man walking by, calling him ‘hotman’.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I wish you could see the looks people are giving him.” 

The five of them stopped in front of a restaurant. “Oh, I didn’t know we were going to a meat place,” Aang said a little dejectedly

“Everyone here eats meat!” Sokka exclaimed. “Even the meat!” He pointed over to a cow-hippo who was eating meat off the ground. Y/N’s stomach turned at the sight. Maybe she didn’t want to eat meat today either. 

---

Aang left, promising to meet them in the same spot outside after he found something vegetarian. Ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of him. Katara was beginning to pace with worry. 

“He could have gotten lost looking for something to eat, right?” She asked the rest of them.

“We could go look around for him?” Y/N offered. When she noticed the hint of fear in Katara’s eyes, she added, “Nothing happened to him of course. He probably just got lost! Or he’s looking at some shop. How about you and Toph stay here, wait for him to see if he comes back. Sokka and I can wander the town looking for him.”

“We can?” Sokka asked. 

Y/N nudged his ribs. 

“We can,” he confirmed. He popped the last bit of his elk-caribou kebab in his mouth and threw the stick away. “Aang will come back and we’ll feel silly for being worried about him.”

“I hope you’re right, Sokka.” Katara said. 

---

“Ooh, let’s look in this shop,” Sokka marveled, pulling Y/N along with him. It was only a shop full of little trinkets and bags but everything Sokka saw excited him. 

“What do you think of this bag?” Sokka tossed the strap over his shoulder and posed. 

“You have an Earth Kingdom bag back at camp that looks the same,” she retorted.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but now that we’re here, I need a Fire Nation one.” 

Y/N shrugged and Sokka took that as her statement on what she thought of the bag. He placed it back on the table and picked up a ceramic box. “What about this box?” he asked.

She took it from his outstretched hands and inspected it. It was a black box with a golden Fire Nation flame on top. “What are you going to put in the box?” she asked as she handed it back to him.

“I–um, cool rocks that I find?”

Y/N hummed, amused. “And what are you going to do with the box full of cool rocks?”

“Put it in my bag,” Sokka muttered. “Fine! I won’t get it!” 

---

“You’re not very fun to shop with.” Sokka said when they left. 

Y/N looked up at the sun to check the time. “We’re supposed to be looking for Aang, not shopping.”

Sokka waved his hands. “Aang is fine. He’s the Avatar, he can take care of himself.” 

“I’m assuming by the way Katara reacted that he doesn’t necessarily go off by himself a lot.”

“Katara–” he paused to think of the right word, “–she mother-hens us.” He held up his hands defensively. “Not that I’m saying we don’t need it, because sometimes it’s nice, but she worries entirely too much.”

Y/N stopped a fruit stand and picked up a ripe peach. “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice.” She passed along a few coins to the merchant and handed a second one to Sokka. 

“How is it nice?” Sokka asked, then bit into the flesh of the peach.

“I don’t know. The way I grew up there was never anyone worried about when I would come home, you know? I just came and went as I pleased and then when I moved to the palace it was the same way.”

“You lived at the palace?” Sokka blurted out.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Y/N watched as Sokka cut the pit of the peach out with a small knife and tossed it into the road. He nodded at her to continue. “I moved to the capital to go to school and about a year after, I moved into the palace.” She bit into the peach and wiped the juice off her chin with the back of her hand. 

“Why though? Why not live with your parents?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” Sokka stuttered. 

“Why?” Y/N giggled. She abruptly stopped when Sokka blushed and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. 

“I just want to,” he finally said. “We don’t know anything about you.”

“Well, if you must know–it’s embarrassing–but my parents encouraged it actually. They were ecstatic that I was able to get close to the Royal Family and even though we weren’t nobility they had this absurd fantasy that I could marry Zuko.” Y/N covered her face in humiliation. 

Sokka shared a look of disgust. “Fire Prince Ponytail, huh?”

She smiled at the joke, but it faded quickly; the hurt of Zuko’s betrayal still heavy on her heart. “He wasn’t always like that.” Y/N ran quickly to his defense. “I knew him when he was still good.”

Sokka collapsed on the ground and leaned up against a wall. “So tell me about it.”

Y/N sat next to him and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “About what?”

“Your palace life, Princess.”

---

The sun was setting when her and Sokka headed back to the cave. The streets were lined with paper lanterns and Y/N could hear lively music being played somewhere. It was busier than it was during the heat of the day and Sokka and Y/N were frequently bumped into from all sides, right into one another. Finally, after losing him twice in the crowd she looped her arm through his. She felt him tense up under her touch, but immediately relaxed. 

“Oh, hey, what’s that?” She pointed off in the distance to a wooden board that looked like it had pictures posted all over it. She weaved them around the crowd to stand in front of it. It was a bulletin board full of advertisements, lost items, found items, and wanted posters. Her eyes ran across the assortment of them–The Blue Spirit, an Admiral named Jeong-Jeong–until her eyes landed on one in particular. 

“Yeah, they put these out when we first started traveling with Aang.” Sokka poked at a yellowing poster of Aang in his airbender clothes. “Luckily they won’t be hunting for him anymore.”

“Yeah. They aren’t hunting you,” Y/N pointed at the only poster that drew her attention. The one with a similar likeness to her face. “But I think they’re hunting me now.” 

Sokka peered around them to see if anyone was watching and ripped the poster down and shoved it in his pocket. “We need to tell the others.”

They only stopped running when they reached the mouth of the cave, the sun low in the sky. 

“Where were you two?!” Katara scolded. “We waited for you to come back but you never did!” 

“We looked around for Aang but–” Sokka started. He unfolded the poster from his pocket. 

“Well did you find him?” She asked.

Sokka and Y/N shared a look. “You mean you didn’t?” Y/N fretted. 

“No and Toph and I came back here when we couldn’t find anyone–”

The four of them jumped a noise outside. Y/N reached back instinctively to grab the hilt of her sword just when Aang strode in with Momo perched on his shoulder. His clothes were muddy and there was dirt on his face like he’d been chased through the woods but he was smiling. “Hey guys!” 

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” Katara raced to pull him into a hug. 

Aang sheepishly pulled off his headband. “I got invited to play with some kids after school.” 

Sokka’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “After what?!”

“I enrolled in a Fire Nation school and I’m going back tomorrow.” 

“Enrolled in what?!” Y/N thought Sokka was going to pass out. 

“Let’s just sit down and talk about it,” Y/N suggested. 

“I’m learning about all the propaganda they teach–”

Behind her, Y/N knew that Sokka was still talking, still flailing his arms around but she couldn’t hear the words he was saying because–

“Propaganda?”

Everyone froze, unsure of what to do next. Y/N could hear Toph behind her by the fire. “Oh no.”

“Um–”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to think. “No, don't even think about not telling me! What do you mean they teach propaganda at Fire Nation schools?”

---

Y/N sat there in silence after Aang told her what he had learned in just one day at a Fire Nation school. What did that mean for her education of five years at one? She tugged one of their blankets around her shoulders because even next to the fire she was shivering. She felt like she had been punched hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of her. 

What did Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph think of her as they realized that these were the things that she grew up learning? That she had foolishly believed that the Air Nomads–known pacifists–had created an army big enough to destroy the Fire Nation so they had to be taken out first. That the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, after hearing of the destruction of all the Air Temples and supposedly the Avatar, had joined together and invaded the Fire Nation. That she had believed in and supported the idea that the Fire Nation was doing the right thing, that cleansing the world of troublemakers and creating obedience and peace in the villages was ‘the only way’. 

In the back of her mind, Y/N was trying to reason with herself, You knew the whole time. That’s why you left, that’s why you're trying to do good with the Avatar; to right the wrongs of your Nation. But it didn’t matter. She’d believed long enough for it to be harmful.

“Not to take away from the frankly alarming things we just learned but–” Sokka handed Aang the poster. “–we also found this when Y/N and I were in town.”

“What is it?” Toph asked. 

“It’s a wanted poster for Y/N,” Aang muttered. 

Katara jumped up to join him in reading it. Y/N didn’t need to see it again. She’d memorized it the first time she laid eyes on it. 

And suddenly, her day was ruined. She couldn’t remember the taste of the peach she had eaten that afternoon or the feeling of the sun on her face. She couldn’t remember what the music sounded like as her and Sokka wandered out of town or what it felt like to spill her life story to someone who wanted to listen. 

“Maybe I should go,” Y/N said numbly. 

“What?” Katara said looking up from the poster. 

“I’m putting you all in danger by being around you. Without me you’d be free to roam without the fear of being caught in the back of your minds all the time. It would be better for all of you like that!” Y/N was starting to get mad. Why couldn’t they see it? Why couldn’t they understand that this is the best option for everyone? That she was trying to save them?

“Why would you say something like that? How is that better?” Toph argued. 

“Because you don’t need me here anyways? How could you want me around after hearing what Aang learned at school. Mind you, up until ten minutes ago, I believed every one of those things to be true!” Y/N stood up and paced around the cave, no longer able to be sitting still. Their campfire threw wild shadows of her form on the walls. 

Y/N was beginning to feel like her outburst was due to more than just learning about Fire Nation propaganda but she couldn’t stop her mouth from moving. She stopped in front of them all for a second. “Tell me exactly what purpose do I serve on this mission?” 

She took their silence for an answer. “Exactly,” Y/N growled. 

Sokka stood up with her. “Not everything needs an exact purpose! You just fit with us!”

“But I don’t!” Y/N shouted. Her eyes and nose were stinging with unshed tears. Y/N rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands to keep the tears at bay for just a second longer. “I need a reason. I need a purpose. I have to have one! I don’t know how to describe this feeling. I’m just... lost. And–and I don’t even know how to explain it to you. How do I try and explain that my life has no meaning when I have no one to serve? I sit here with you guys and I’m wondering how you even wanted me to come when there was no reason for me to be here? I can’t even be your Fire Nation guide because I’ve never even seen most of the cities and apparently, I don’t even know my own history!”

Y/N looked at Katara. She blinked and twin tears traced down her cheeks. “I told you. I’m weak. I care about someone who wants me dead so badly she made me a wanted person. And all I want is to make her better so I can go home and I just can’t get past it all.”

Y/N put her head in her hands and sobbed. She felt two arms wrap around her waist and a head lay on her shoulder. Two more arms wrapped around the both of them. And pretty soon all five of them stood huddled in the cave in a group hug. 

Y/N sniffled. “Why are you all comforting me like you’re my friends?”

“You are our friend,” Katara murmured into Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to be friends with us?”

Y/N whimpered. “I really do. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”

“If it makes you feel better. I have no problem bossing you around.” Toph’s voice was muffled from the pile they were in. 

Y/N smiled through her tears. “Thanks, Toph.”

---

A/N: listen, I don’t care if I made you cry, because I cried while writing that scene more than once and that’s all that matters. 

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @astroninaaa​ @aangsupremacy​ @beifongsss​ @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx​ @littlefluu​ @lozzybowe​ @thebluelcdy​ @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey​ @fanficdepot​ @teenbiology​ @13-09-01​ @riespage​ @davnwillcome​ @naanlianid​ @creation-magician​ @lunariasilver​ @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng​ @rockinearthbending-marauders​ @francesciak​ @thia-aep​ @aphrcditeee​ @milk-n-cheese​ @solarsuki​ @sendnuwudes @humbleseame​ @my--shitty--art​ @lovingcupcake51002​ @loganrwebb​ @celia-not-cecilia​ @treestarrrrrrrr​ @p--e--a--c--h--e--s​@velveteencurls @izzieserra​ @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak​

[neokids]

Fortune's Fool: Act XI

Masterlist (read previous and future ones here!)

Act XI

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

“Miss Hwang,”

Yeji turned around to see a messenger awkwardly standing, he was oddly keeping his distance as if she carried the contagious madness.

“Yes?”

“Your parents ask for your presence in their office. They would like to speak to you right now.”

And they didn’t even bother to check what had happened downstairs in their own house, how thoughtful.

“Regarding what?” Yeji asked, anticipation building up causing her to fiddle with her fingers behind her back. “They did not say. They just asked for your presence. Immediately.”

Yeji let out a sigh as she made her way upstairs, she glanced back at the pool of blood all over the living room, how on earth would they clean this up. She also noticed her relatives talking so casually amidst the scene, as if nothing happened. As if it wasn’t contagious.

As she approached her father’s office, the door immediately opened. Yeji was taken aback by the sudden appearance of her father holding the door for her, it was as if he was waiting for her all along.

“You asked for my presence? Are we to discuss recent matters?” Yeji asked as soon as she sat across from her father and mother. Lord and Lady Hwang only looked at each other as Yeji noticed something in her father’s hands. He held a creamy white envelope sealed off in a rich gold stamp. She eyed it as well before glancing back to her father.

“How are we going to get rid of the bloodstains downstairs?” Yeji asked again, leaving her first questions unanswered.

“We’ll call for someone to clean it up.” Her mother said, dismissing Yeji’s current worries.

“Mama, it’s the madness. It’s in our house now, who knows who else will suffer. It could be a viral contagion, we should ask the other servants if they made contact with the ones who tore their throats out.” Yeji explained, ultimately regretting the decision seeing as her father narrowed his eyes at her in confusion while her mother eyed her quizzically.

“What made you assume it was viral?” Lady Hwang asked simply, no tones of suspiciousness in her voice.

Yeji froze as soon as she realized she blurted out a piece of information she found out from Jeno, but she had to remain calm. Her mother wasn’t the type to stay silent when she finds something suspicious, she was the type to confront someone directly.

“Hearsays,” Yeji replied calmly, “At this point, anything is possible.”

“Moving on,” Lord Hwang said firmly, clearly wanting to dismiss the current topic. “Summoning you here to talk about this madness wasn’t the reason we called you here.” He pushed the thick white envelope he was holding towards Yeji.

“What is this?” She took it, observing the intricately written gold letters curve with elegance. It was heavy as well.

“An invitation,” Lady Hwang explained, “To a masquerade ball from the Chinese.”

Yeji opened the envelope recklessly, wanting to get it over as soon as possible. She read that it was indeed an invitation from the Chinese, specifically signed by a man named ‘Xiao Dejun’

“It’s going to be held next week in the gazebos,” Lord Hwang added as he redirected his attention to the other stacks of paper on his desk. “They want to celebrate the joined forces and powers of Korea and China!” He recited flatly as Yeji read the exact same lines on the invitation.

We are extending our warm welcome to all of Viper-gang members, it reads in royal blue ink.

Yeji heard her mother scoff, causing her to tear her attention away from the invitation and towards her mother. Lady Hwang had a clear expression of distaste on her face, obviously not buying whatever the Chinese had written on the invitation. “If they wanted to celebrate, then they should start remembering that this is our country, not theirs.”

“However,” Lord Hwang added, as if he didn’t hear what his own wife had to say, “If they wish to celebrate, then let us celebrate.” Her father said sternly, he looked up to his daughter staring at him with a mouth opening and closing, finding the right words to say. “Also I believe there is another invitation somewhere in that envelope?”

Yeji rummaged through the invitation to reveal another card, this one bright red in color and had silver lettering,

It was from the Lius.

But it wasn’t for Yeji, it was for her father. Mr. Liu was requesting another meeting despite how many times they have been turned down. A few weeks ago, Yeji turned him down only for her to turn down his son as well. She didn’t know why they were so adamant about selling their product, they weren’t prominent nor known whatsoever. In fact. Nobody knew who they were or where they came from.

“Well,” Yeji said as she slid the envelope back to her father’s hands, “Why should this concern me?”

Something about the silence irked Yeji, the silence contained unleft words from both Lord and Lady Hwang’s mouths. They were waiting for something, an answer, a follow up.

“Well,” Lord Hwang began, “I would greatly appreciate it if you were to go with me,” He finally said as he folded his arms against his chest.

“You’re not certainly making me go to this ball, right?” Yeji asked to confirm, eyes shifting to her father who had a serious expression on his aging face to her mother who looked like she wanted to end this conversation immediately.

“It’s always your choice, Yeji.” Her father said flatly. Something to know about Lord Hwang is that he never took no for an answer, especially when it came from a family member. Better yet, his own daughter. “But I prefer if you would.”

“Appa,” Yeji whined, “I did enough partying in America to last me the rest of eternity. Surely the Chinese could discuss and bargain all they want, but in the end we always know they will never have the final say in this country.”

“Yeji,” Lady Hwang scolded.

“What?” Yeji retorted, righteous.

“No, she has a point.” Her father said as he raised a hand to stop Lady Hwang, “They only wish to mingle and propose their products to me, I would let you go if it weren’t for a certain someone requesting your presence.”

Lord Hwang had his gaze pinpointed on her. Yeji however, remained silent. She blinked once, then twice. She already knew where this conversation was heading towards.

“I see,” Yeji decided to say plainly, she didn’t want to press on whoever requested her presence. Judging by the sent invitation from the Chinese, and a separate invitation from the Lius, it was already a dead giveaway.

Yangyang Liu.

“We need all the power we can get. We need the forces, the allies, the security and comfort knowing that we will continue our reign in this city. I need you to be my little translator when they mutter something in Mandarin, thinking I can not speak their mother tongue.”

Yeji made a disgruntled groan from her throat. “As you wish, appa.” She stood up and took the letter from her father’s hands once again. “I’ll go as you wish!” She exclaimed as she tried to walk outside Lord Hwang’s office. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, her mother suddenly spoke up. “Wait,”

So. Damn. Close.

Yeji turned around as she cocked a brow, “This….Yangyang,” Lady Hwang started “Why is he requesting you?”

Lady Hwang said his name as if it held meaning to her. Lady Hwang thought that it had some effect on her, she didn’t know that that effect would be her getting annoyed more than anything.

Yeji pursed her lips into a thin line, “He is Mr. Liu’s son, obviously.” she replied, apathetic. “I believe the main reason why they requested for another meeting is because they are still trying to sell their product to us.”

“Is he handsome?” Lady Hwang asked, curious for herself rather than her own daughter.

“My god, mama.” Yeji replied as she tried to stop herself rolling her eyes. She walked towards the door again, hopefully able to leave this time. “He is just using me, this is just business. If you would excuse me, I have to–what the hell are you doing?”

The latter part was directed to Hyunjin, who was standing right in front of her as she opened the door.

“Relax,” Hyunjin smiled a very much fake smile, “I was on my way to the balcony.”

They both knew it was a lie–Hyunjin not bothering to try and make a more believable expression. Yeji closed her father’s door with a loud thud. She waited for her cousin to say something, but he only stared back, his plastic smile not leaving his face.

“Well do you have anything to say to me, Hyunjin?” Yeji asked, crossing her arms. Hyunjin’s smile only grew wider.

“Only one,” He said as he eyed the door, knowing full well that Lord and Lady Hwang could hear their conversation, “I just can’t wait to go to this party, jiāchǒu bùkě wàiyáng.”

Yeji stiffened, satisfied with the reaction he had caused, he turned around merrily and left. He shoved his hands to his pockets as a whistle from a song left his lips.

The family’s shame shouldn’t be exposed.

“Méiyǒu shé me kě jiēlù de,” Yeji muttered. She stomped as she went down the stairs, glaring at the relatives who were still near the crime scene, happily going on with their latest gossip they just had to share. She made a beeline towards the kitchen to see Karina seated on the counter chomping down on an apple. She had no idea how Karina managed to find an appetite when she was seated right in front of a huge stain of blood.

“So?” Yeji asked as she tapped the counter beside her cousin.

“What? Oh, I gave up trying to remove the stains ten minutes ago.” Karina answered as she took another bite of her apple. After chewing for a while, she tilted her heads towards the side as she looked at the stain.

“It kinda looks like a dog, don’t you think?” She asked as she looked at Yeji who looked at her with a concerned look on her face.

Yeji only stared at her as she swallowed her bite. “Too soon?”

“Way too soon,” Yeji replied, shaking her head. “You busy? I need your Rover ties.”

“For the nth time–” Karina answered, rolling her eyes as she tossed remnants of her apple towards the trash bin, “I do not have Rover ties. What am I finding though?”

Yeji grinned, one thing she loved about her cousin was her eagerness to play spy and to go to unknown grounds. “Jinyoung Park’s address.”

Karina only needed to wrinkle her face, not quite surprised for the sudden request. Yeji could ask her to go get the weirdest most bizarre things, and she would still oblige. Yeji didn’t need to reason out her request as Karina leaped from the counter and feigned a salute to her cousin, her lips turning into a quick smirk. “Yes sir!”

…

“Lice?” Jeno echoed in disbelief

“Lice-like,” Kun corrected, head shaking in the process. He examined a strip of skin he collected from the corpse Jaemin and Haechan brought back to them. They could see the tiny bulges of pockets where the dead insects resided. Jaemin was turning pale while Haechan had his fingers placed on his mouth.

“They jump from one host to another like lice through the hair, I believe they only die when the host dies.” Kun went on as he further pressed onto the membrane, beside him was Doyoung audibly gagging from the sudden autopsy they had to perform. Nevertheless, the Neos had seen far stranger things.

“Oh good heavens,” Jaemin suddenly blurted, feeling dizzy as he gripped onto the table. “We could have been infected.”

Haechan made an exaggerated groan, “They’re dead already,” He said as he motioned towards the insects and the dead body.

“And yet you made me dissect that,” Jaemin retorted, recalling the previous scenes. He shuddered, suddenly remembering how disgusting it was. His body was on full vibrate mode, “How–”

“Gentlemen,” Jeno prompted, his fingers drumming the table he leaned on. He suddenly felt like all the oxygen from the lab was being sucked out, he couldn’t breathe. He had already woken up with a throbbing headache since he wasn’t able to get a good sleep. He tried to redirect Jaemin’s and Haechan’s attention back to Kun, but it didn’t work.

“I told you, my hands were full.”

“You were holding two knives, you could have easily slipped them in your goddamn pockets.”

Jeno gave an apologetic smile to Kun, there was no way he could get Jaemin and Haechan to stop. When the two weren’t busy discussing theories or other normal things, they would argue. Most of the time, it would be about nonsense things that shouldn’t be worth debating over. They would get so engaged in each other until you could see one of their faces going red, or vines starting to pop out from their necks.

“As I was saying,” Kun continued, realizing the two men infront of him had no signs of stopping anytime soon, “since we have much more advanced resources in our facilities than all of Seoul, I could try manufacturing a cure, if that sounds good to you.”

“The only thing that sounds good to me is when you finally shut the fuck up!” Jaemin suddenly exclaimed to Haechan, causing Kun and Jeno to turn their attention once again to them.

“Yes,” Jeno pleaded, making Kun smile a boring smile to him. “That would be great. Thank you, Kun–”

“Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Lee.” Kun tutted, “I can’t manufacture anything without you and your friends’ help.” Kun’s last statement effectively made Jaemin and Haechan to stop fighting. They exchanged glances and slowly turned towards Kun, who was serious as a priest giving a sermon.

“Anything,” Jeno promised, making Jaemin quirk a brow as Haechan nudged him to prevent hearing his whining. “I need to run live experiments,” Kun nodded to himself, “Yes, a live victim. You must find me a live victim.”

“A live–”

This time it was Jeno’s turn to nudge Jaemin’s side.

“Noted,” Jeno said quickly, hoping his two friends would stay silent, “we’re on it. Thank you, Kun. Truly.”

When Kun nodded to them, Jeno pushed himself off the table he was previously leaning on. He quickly dragged both his friend and cousin towards the exit. Jeno was rather quite impressed when Jaemin managed to stay silent the whole time they were making their way towards the doors, not hearing a single whine nor complaint leave his lips. It was only when they were under the dark sky clouding the city did Jaemin finally burst.

“Ya! What the hell?! How the hell are we supposed to find a live victim?! Who the hell would be our live victim?! You know what, don’t answer that. I volunteer in Haechan to be the experimental–Ow!” Jaemin’s rant came to a stop once he felt Haechan’s palm smack him on the head. Jeno sighed as he continued to walk, kicking a few pebbles blocking his way. Jaemin, full of energy as always, was bouncing.

“Careful,” his cousin warned. “Might trip on a pebble.”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Jeno replied as he turned around.

“How are we supposed to know a victim is a victim?” Jaemin went on as he ignored them both, “We only know they were infected once they have succumbed to it! Not to mention they only have a solid five minutes left before they die.”

Jeno shut his eyes momentarily, when he opened them again he felt like he could fall asleep that instant. “I don’t know.”

The walk home was just Jaemin and Haechan bickering once again. Jeno barely contributed to their usual debate for his headache only grew worse. Once they reached the entrance of the main mansion, Jeno could only muster a quiet farewell, leaving Jaemin and Haechan to stare at him. They understood him though, they knew Jeno always got silent when he had too many thoughts clouding his head.

Jeno meekly opened the heavy entrance doors. All he needed was a quick nap and maybe a few pills to ease his throbbing headache so that he could come up with a plan for Kun’s–

“Jeno,”

Jeno’s head jerked up to his father looking down on him from the top step of the staircase. His eyes narrowed at him per usual, his lips forming into a thin line.

“Yes?”

Without saying a word, he extended his hand to give Jeno a piece of paper. He thought that his father would come down to meet him midway, but Lord Lee only remained where he stood. This caused Jeno to hurriedly come up the stairs to keep his father from waiting. The piece of paper turned out to be an invitation with a name and address written in reflective silver ink.

“Find him,” Lord Lee sneered when Jeno looked up for an explanation. “I have heard from my advisors that the Rovers may be the center of all this madness.”

Jeno’s fingers tightened on the invitation he held, “What?” He asked, quite taken aback on the sudden request, “But the Rovers have been trying to be on our side for years–”

“Yet we push them away everytime,” Lord Lee refuted, not interested in what his son had to say, “Obviously they are changing strategies, trying to side with the Vipers seeing as we lost them. Before they could do anything we must counter them immediately. Stop them.”

Was it simply the Rovers’ strategy? Were they trying to kill all those in a gang or mafia so that the violence could finally stop? Were they trying to panic the crowd so that the crowd would listen to them? So they could rule over?

“How am I to stop a whole political party?” Jeno murmured quietly, “How am I to–”

Before Jeno continued, his father had slapped him on the head causing him to grip on the stair’s railing to prevent him from falling down the stairs. He moved away from his father, hoping he could avoid a second hit. He shouldn’t have countered his father vocally when he was an arm’s length away.

“I gave you a name and an address, did I not?” Lord Lee snapped, growing impatient with his own son. “Go. See how true the word on the street is.”

With that, his father returned to his own office, not even bothering to glance back at his son. He gripped the piece of paper tightly, his head throbbing worse than before, Jeno inhaled before muttering bitterly,

“As you wish.”

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter Three (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: Din struggles internally with the loss of Grogu and finds work in the woman that employs him to find her son. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: discussion of nightmares and discussion of child loss. 

Author’s Note: This chapter sits at about 2.5k words and is told from Din’s point of view. Feel free to reblog and comment :)

CHAPTER THREE - THE REMINDER

The first light from the twin suns peers through the open hatch of the Idrionna. Din briefly glances over at the girl, asleep in the cot he offered. Her face is peaceful, but he still remembers waking up to her crying out in her sleep earlier in the night.

She had mentioned her broken memories. When Din had first laid eyes on her, he could tell that she had been through hell and back. What kind of hell he didn’t know, but she had identified the dark saber on his belt. Most others he had come across hardly had a clue of what kind of weapon he was wielding. Even Din himself was unsure of the weapon. He only knew that Bo-Katan wanted it more than he did and yet she refused his offer to just take it from him.

It needed to be won in combat, he had been informed. At the same time, he was vulnerable. His Creed was broken, helmetless, and just having let go of Grogu. Bo-Katan only saw an opportunity in his time of weakness, and he needed to leave, to get some distance between the two of them. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to defend himself over some saber.

The girl mentioning her son only tugged at what he had just lost. He had promised himself he would move on, find work and throw himself into only work. Instead, he had seen the same look in her eyes that he had seen in himself. Desperation.

A change in her breathing caught his attention. She was waking up. She blinks, the light disturbing her.

“It’s dawn,” she says. Sitting up, she looks up at him, “I hope I didn’t disturb you last night?”

You did, Din thinks. It was no different than when Grogu was fussy during the night. Most of the time the kid just missed his company and Din would indulge him, even sleeping in his helmet to not break his Creed. He debates on whether it’s worth keeping his helmet on, Grogu had seen him without his helmet. Still, it’s his belief to honor his fallen brothers and sisters and to remain true to his Creed. Whatever was left of it.

Hearing her cries last night only made him debate it longer. Would she have even seen him in the darkness of the ship? Ask him to make the same choice a year and a half ago and he would’ve thought himself crazy. There were no exceptions to the Creed, he could not remove his helmet in front of a living thing, even in darkness. By the time he had made his choice to pull on his helmet, her cries had stopped, and she had settled the nightmare herself.  

“You didn’t,” he lies. “Did you…did you have a nightmare last night?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately, “I saw him again. He was younger this time. No more than three. I think it’s when his abilities started showing,” she trails off, distracting by the frayed fabric of her pants.

Din pauses. Abilities, a word he had used to describe Grogu’s unexplained powers. The Force, as Ahsoka had told him. Grogu was off receiving the training he needed to master his powers, to become a Jedi, like Ahsoka. And Luke Skywalker.

“Do you remember anything else?” he asks her. She shakes her head, and he nods. He wants to comfort her, he knows her pain, but he suppresses the feeling. He’s merely transportation and a high-end detective for her. She’s not looking for a therapist. “There’s a refresher just down that way, feel free to use it. Peli’s expecting us to leave soon. I’ll see if she has any information.”

She nods, scooping her belongings into her arms as she stands from the cot. He watches her go and the way she carries herself, the quiet pad of her feet disappearing down the hallway. He turns to walk to the center of the hanger, approaching Peli and her droids. She distributes a stack of cards amongst the group, before settling on her stack.

“Where you headed now, Mando?” the woman asks, licking her finger as she places a card down to start the game.

“I don’t know yet. She’s,” he pauses in his words, unsure of how else to describe the girl. “she’s seen some things. In her dreams. Says she has a son, somewhere out there. I’m not even sure where to start but—”

“She reminds you of the womp rat?” Peli finishes, licking her thumb as she lazily places a card down in the pile. “You know I miss him, used to keep me company when you were off doing Mando things…” she trailed off, mumbling to herself as a droid places a card down to counter her move.

He brushes off the comment on Grogu, instead focusing his attention on the girl. “The nightmares she describes, I think that’s just the beginning of something more.”

Peli hums at his statement. At first, Din thinks she’s only stringing him along, pretending to pay attention so she can focus more on her game. Then she sits back and places her cards down.

“Don’t peek,” she warns her pack of droids. “She sought you out for your help. You’re the bounty hunter here, there have probably been times you’ve found clues from worse situations.”

He watches as she marches to her office, digging around in her desk, searching for something. A quick look and it appeared to be a junk pile of old holopads and datacards. She finds what she’s looking for and shoves it in his direction.

Taking the datapad, he stares at the woman as she returns to her card game.

“Am I supposed to know what this is for?” Din asks, looking over it to examine if it’s usable or not.

“Datapad—”

“I know what it is, Peli.”

Unphased by his interruption, Peli continues, “she can use it as a journal, write down what she remembers from her dreams. Start adding the dreams together and you line up her memories. Why don’t you explain that to her right now?”

Din turns and the girl is approaching the small circle of droids. She looks better, the soot from Tatooine gone from her skin. He can see it in the way she walks toward the group that she seems to feel better. The travel alone most likely took a toll on her, who knew the last time she traveled between planets.

She’s still, however, wearing the same clothes she slept in. Something that resembled a poncho draped over her shoulders, covering a cotton shirt and protecting her from the twin suns. Worn work pants and leather boots. Din makes a mental note that more clothing may be good for her. The shops on Tatooine wouldn’t do, they’d need to find a more suitable planet for her traveling needs. It was good she traveled light, but the more Din thinks about it, she’s only traveling light because it’s all she has.

“Explain what?” she says, looking between Din and Peli.

Peli returns her focus to her cards, leaving the explaining to Din. He grumbles, glad that the vocoder doesn’t pick up on the noise. He glances at the girl’s confused expression before handing her the datapad.

“It’ll be good to log the nightmares you have. That way we can start to piece together what you do remember in hopes it will give us a clue on where to start.” Din explains, watching her as she tapped the screen, illuminating her face in blue.

“Okay,” the girl agrees, pulling the datapad close to her chest. “I sent a transmission to my friend back on Puvo, just to tell her I’m alright.”

Din can sense that the girl feels the need to explain her actions for everything she does. While he remains on edge for Bo-Katan, he isn’t worried by a simple transmission sent by the girl. It’s the only semblance of a family she seems to have, who is he to cut her off from that?

“Idrionna is all fueled up for your trip. Wherever that may be,” Peli mumbles the last part, setting down her stack of cards. The girl reaches into her pocket, pulling out that damn pouch of credits again.

He had counted the amount back in the Mos Eisley cantina. Half the credits alone could fuel his ship for a lifetime. The girl is willing to give away what’s equal to life savings. How she got that number of credits, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let her just give it all away until she was left penniless. If she did have a son out there, he needed to make sure she still had credits left over to care for her and her son. 

“No,” Din says, his tone stern enough that the girl stops. “I already covered all the fees and I’m sure Peli wouldn’t miss the datapad.” One look at the woman and she shrugs, once again picking up her stack of cards and shuffling through them.

“Right,” the girl hums out. She turns to look at him, then follows as he makes his way towards the ship.

“There’s someone I need to speak to, on the planet Nevarro. Maybe on the way there, you can tell me more about your son. What you remember.” Din offers.

Cara Dune had access to all the New Republic’s data. Maybe she’d have something on the girl. He already had a name, and she couldn’t have been any younger than he was. Cara and he had certainly worked off less information. Even if there wasn’t anything, at least they could start a new record for her. There was even a possibility that her son could be in the same place as Grogu, training to be a Jedi. Given her lack of memories, however, and Din doubts that’s the case.

Idrionna’s flight deck is nothing like the Razor Crest. The controls still feel foreign to Din and it’s a reminder of how much he misses the latter ship. Similar in size and maneuverability, however, he’s just grateful that the ship isn’t falling apart or blown to smithereens.

The hum of the engines pulls his thoughts away. The girl sits next to him, her eyes following his movement as he prepares the ship for the hyperspace jump.

“Your son,” he says at first, unsure of how to start the conversation. “How old do you think he is now?”

The girl is quiet for a moment, watching him as he takes the control column of the Idrionna. The ship shifts as it pushes off the ground, the landing gear retracting. Peli and her pack of droids watch as the ship takes off into the Tatooine atmosphere.

“He can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen,” she finally replies. “He had to have been ten when I last saw him. My memories…they only show up to that point in his life. I get visions of him when he was younger but nothing about him being any older than ten.”

“Do you know…if his father was involved?” He finds himself asking the hard question. She had made zero mention of a father figure to her son. Was it because she didn’t remember that part in time or because there was no father involved.

He thought back to the widow Omera and how long it had been since he had last seen her. Now with a widow on his hands, maybe paying Omera another visit would do him good. He could only imagine the disappointment on Winta’s face when he did not bring Grogu with him.

“No. I—” the hitch of her breath startles him out of his thoughts. “I have no recollection of my son’s father. A part of me wants to think he was in our lives, but it’s like there’s tunnel vision when I have these nightmares. I see my son. Everyone else…it’s a blur.”

Din nods at her response. There’s a possibility of a father being out there, or at the very least, a record of his existence. He remains hopeful despite her answer, that even if he can’t find anything about her or her son, he could maybe find something about the father. These were the small victories Din saw in the girl’s words.

The jump into hyperspace is smooth, but the journey to Nevarro is long. It will be a while before they arrive at the volcanic planet. It would help Din get more information from the girl.

“They said they were searching for people, creatures, anyone who displayed these powers. The Force.” the girl says. The Force. It’s why Luke Skywalker had come searching for Grogu, having felt him through it at the Seeing Stone. It didn’t surprise Din that there may have been others searching for Force-sensitives.

“Who?” Din asks, curious. He had been a part of the population that lacked awareness of the ideology of Jedi and Sith. Life on the Outer Rim had given him that ignorance. Ahsoka Tano had been the first Jedi he had encountered in his entire lifetime and the second Jedi he ever met, Luke Skywalker, had been the one to take Grogu from him. All he had known previously about the Jedi was that they were enemies of the Mandalorians. Enemy sorcerers, he had previously called them. It had taken all of his trust to let Grogu leave with Skywalker, but he knew that Grogu would be able to thrive under the Jedi’s care.  

“In my nightmare, there’s three of them. Their faces are nothing more than a blur and their voices I don’t recognize but they came to my village. Everyone had heard of the defeat of the Empire and that a Jedi was making his way through the galaxy to recruit others like him.” She sighs, looking down at her hands.

Din can now focus his attention solely on the girl and her retelling with the ship on autopilot. Her face is troubled and he can see the frustration in her eyes as she tries in vain to recall the rest of the details in the nightmare, maybe the faces of the men, or something easier, like their voices.  

“When does it stop? The nightmare,” Din asks.  

“It’s the ignition of a lightsaber. I had followed one of them, leaving the other two behind me to watch him. It’s an unmistakable sound, the air around you vibrates with the blade. I don’t remember anything after that. Valara says they tortured me. Whoever they are, I’m not sure.” The girl’s voice grows timid.

The dark saber on his belt burns against his side. He turns to look at the blue streams of light in front of him, unsure of what to say to comfort her. Long before Skywalker had begun his search for force-sensitives, the Empire had already torn so many families apart. Now with the Empire gone, the balance of power was divided.

It’s exactly what brought Moff Gideon into Din’s life. Kidnapping Grogu from him and stealing a vile of his blood for future experiments. Din shuddered at the possibility of the same happening to the girl’s son. Din still remembers the fight with the Dark Troopers and Gideon. The dark saber is a burning reminder of what he had both lost and won that day.

“We’ll find him.” He assures her.

“I’ll hold you to it, Mando,” she chuckles. It’s the sparkle in her eye, however, that tells him she’s trying. That’s all that matters to him.

Read Chapter Four - The Truth here!

[portalford]

I Can Picture You So Easily

AO3

It hits Stan at the stupidest times.

Well.  That makes it sounds like Stan just forgets, when really it never quite goes away — sometimes it’s just more.

Like now.

He’s looking in the mirror — he found it tucked way, way back in a closet (and he’s gonna skip right over that because when he got here the mirror in the bathroom was broken, cracked until you couldn’t see a thing and why was Ford—nope) — and he’s trying out a new look for Mr. Mystery.

Gotta keep it fresh, right?  Accessorize?

Glasses aren’t accessories, unfortunately.  He can’t go without them anymore.

(Really, he needed them years ago, but he was too stubborn to admit it, or too broke, or whatever, but he’s literally tripping over his own feet now.  Needs must).

Ford wouldn’t be caught dead in this getup.  No sense of fashion.  So that’s fine.

The glasses—

(Ford started wearing glasses when he was six.  Stan had laughed himself silly when they went to the drugstore and tried on the biggest, most obnoxious frames they could find.  Ma had scolded, but she’d been too distracted checking price tags to do more than scold.

In the end, they went with some cheap horn-rimmed frames that Stan wouldn’t be caught dead in even now.  Old-man glasses, at six.  But that was Ford all over).

—they bring some stuff up.  The twin thing sucks, sometimes.  

(Looking in a mirror and seeing the changes, the lines in his face, the grey in his hair — does Ford have crow’s feet now?  Is his hair going silver?  It was always unmanageable — is it thinning like Stan’s is now, or is it still thick and flyaway, like it was when Ford was sixteen?  Did he even live long enough to get lines in his face and aches in his joints, or is he forever twenty-eight, dead somewhere in the universe?)

Time to stop thinking.

Notice the differences.

Stan’s ears and nose are bigger than Ford’s, always have been.  He’s heavier and his shoulders are broader.

(Has Ford gotten bulkier, fighting to survive?  Or is still he halfway to gaunt, like the last time Stan saw him?)

Definitely time to stop thinking.

Stan flashes a smile, and yeah, that’s all him.  Cheerful, magnetic, and a hundred percent fake.

Time to work the crowds.

*****

There’s an ad for the nice ink pens Ford saved up to buy when he was fourteen.

Stan turns it off.

*****

Mabel finds a picture, once.

“Grunkle Stan!”  Her eyes are all lit up as she shows him the torn photograph.  “I found this under a floorboard in the attic!”

If Stan ever had any doubts about his poker face, he can lay them to rest now. It’s all on the ropes and his expression is perfectly level, maybe even a little curious.

Mabel is still talking.  “I didn’t know there were pictures of you before you were all old!  Do you have any others?”

Oh.

Stan still forgets sometimes, even after everything, that most people can’t tell him and Ford apart.

He knows better.

The young man in the photograph is unmistakably Ford, taken while he was living in Gravity Falls.  He’s got his head bent over that journal of his, but the photographer managed to catch the eager light in his eye, the edge of his smile.

Stan wonders who that photographer was, all those years ago.

A tug at his shirt reminds him he’s not alone, and he definitely can’t get messed up about this picture of his secret twin brother.

Mabel’s face has fallen a bit.  “Grunkle Stan?  Are you okay?”

Stan gives himself two more seconds to look at the picture — Ford just looks so happy; Stan can’t even remember the last time Ford looked like that, even before it all fell apart — and turns to Mabel.

“Yeah,” he says.  He smiles and ruffles her hair.  “Pretty good picture, huh?”

*****

The name is the worst.

Stan never thought identity theft could involve so little fun.

Usually he can get away with just “Stan Pines,” and that’s fine.  That’s his name.  That’s who he’s supposed to be.

Sometimes, though, that’s not enough for whoever’s asking.

“What did you say your name was again?”

He smiles.  Lays it on thick.  “Stanford Pines.”

“Could you sign here?”

He does.  His blocky, uneven handwriting looks even worse than usual where he’s expecting to see neat, flowing script, the way Stanford Pines is supposed to be written.

“This is Stanford Pines,” someone will say.  “Mr. Mystery.”

Stan smiles some more.  Yes, Stanford Pines is certainly that.

Gideon is the worst.  Stanford this and Stanford that and Stan’s never wanted to punch a child so much in his life.

“Stanford Pines!”

He smiles, and he lies.

*****

Dipper halfway drives him nuts sometimes.

It’s not like the kid’s a mini-Ford — he reminds Stan enough of himself, sometimes, though Stan’s not sure that’s great either — but he’s got the brains and the stubbornness and the love of weird nonsense, for sure.

He’s also got that obsessive edge, the drive that sent Ford right off the metaphorical cliff.

Usually Mabel tags along on the weirdness hunts — they make a day of it.  They go out, just the two of them, and come back laughing and joking and shoving at each other.

That’s enough of a painful reminder, but sometimes Stan will catch Mabel sitting by herself, coloring or crafting with a little less energy than usual, and he’ll realize that Dipper’s buried himself in monster theory again.

He tries to keep the kid busy with chores and hustle, but it’s a losing battle.

It was the first time, too.

*****

There’s this old song that Ford used to love when they were younger.

It’s got no words, and Stan used to make fun of it — what's the point of a song with no words?  But Ford insisted it had Meaning, capital M.

It comes on the radio now and then.

Depending on how masochistic Stan is feeling that day, he might let it play.

He still wonders what Ford heard in this song, and if Ford would hear it now.

*****

He realizes, one day near the end, that he’s been Stanford longer than he’s been Stanley.

What’s the point, really?  What does a name matter if it’s so easy for someone else to take your place?

(Did Ford matter so little, in the grand scheme of things, that not one person could recognize him in a place he lived for six years?

Does Stan, in a place he’s lived for almost thirty?)

If he could just stop catching Ford in his reflection now and then, that’d be great.

*****

It’s not any better once Ford gets back (once Stan brings Ford back, the ungrateful bastard).

“Stanford!”

Stan’s got a smile on his face before he even turns around, and what’s wrong with him that he’s halfway made this lie into a Pavlovian response?  Someone calls him Stanford, he smiles and lies.

(Stanford — the real Stanford — is in the basement right now.  He doesn’t even exist, as far as anyone else is concerned.  Stan is Stanford, Stanley is dead, and Ford is a nonentity.

What a life this is).

*****

“So how was it?”

Stan grunts.  “How was what?”

Ford rolls his neck, wincing a little as he works out the unavoidable crick from hunching over a drawing for twenty minutes.  “Being me.”

Stan shrugs.  “Wasn’t hard.  We’re basically the same person, y’know.”

Ford snorts.  A long time (a lifetime) ago that comment might have gotten him worked up, but he’s steadier now, softer around the edges.  “Very funny.  I saw your lease renewal.  You didn’t even change your handwriting, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ford, I rolled up to town, said I was you, and started a tourist trap.  You had a total personality transplant and nobody noticed.”  Stan grimaces.  That sounded really bad.

Ford’s expression has gone rueful and a little sad at the edges, but he doesn’t seem like he’s about launch into full-blown self-recrimination, so that’s fine.  “Yes, well.  That’s what happens when you isolate yourself for six years and your only friend erases his mind to cope with the mistakes you made.”

And that’s Ford trying to shoulder all the blame again, but Stan keeps his mouth shut.  They’re both too comfortable to argue right now.  “Being honest — for once — it kinda sucked.”  Ford’s looking at him, open and encouraging, so Stan keeps going.  “Everyone thought I was you, and it—I wasn’t.  I didn’t want to be.”  Stan shrugs.  “I wanted you you.”

Ford smiles, and it’s a little more worn than Stan remembers, but it’s real, and it’s him.  “I understand.  I met a few parallel versions of you on my travels, and they were you, but — they weren’t really you.”  Ford closes his journal (his new one) and sets it aside, tipping his head back over his chair.  More playfully, he adds, “I wouldn’t want to be you either, Stanley.”

Stan laughs.  “Yeah?  Couldn’t handle the salesmanship?”

“Have more self-respect than to wear any part of your wardrobe.”

“Says the man who wears sweaters in the summer.”

Ford lifts his head and smiles, and this time it’s almost exactly how Stan remembers — quick and a little crooked.  “Fair enough.”  Ford stretches, rolls his neck again.  “For what it’s worth, Stanley, I am glad to be back.”  A wry look.  “Even if it’s going to take ages to sort out the criminal record you gave me.”

Stan slouches deeper into the couch.  Any further and he’s going to slide off, but that’s a risk he’ll take.  “Yeah, yeah.  Talk to me when you’re legally dead.”

“You did that.”

“And?”

“I legally don’t exist.”

“I was trying to learn theoretical physics at the time, Stanford; cut a man some slack.”

Ford laughs, quiet.  “Did I ever thank you for that?”

Stan cracks an eye open.  He didn’t realize he closed them.  “What, learnin’ physics?  Because I’m pretty sure that’s some of the stuff that’s not coming back.”

Ford rolls his eyes.  “For saving me.”

“Hm.”  Ford’s thanked him several times, but lately it’s been less Ford kicking himself and more Ford cautiously trying to engage in the old back-and-forth they used to have, and Stan can get behind that one.  “I dunno.  Might have to say it again.”

“You’re burning through my gratitude very quickly,” Ford says mildly, “but all right.  Thank you for saving me.  You knucklehead.”

Stan never got called that when he was Ford.  He thinks he’s missed it, at least the way Ford says it — like it means something completely different.

“Uh-huh.”  Stan’s eyes are closed again.  He figures he’ll just leave them closed.  “Missed you too, nerd.”

And maybe there’s something to be said for being your own person.

It feels pretty good.

[z3llous]

Lost in the City

[ Sep 05, 2020 ]

Sanji x reader

Click . Click. Click. One foot after the other. Their shoes had hit the pavement in rapid succession. Around a corner, over a fence, up a building, and on the roof they went. His form trailed  behind them in haste.

Why? They didn't ask for this. Of all the people, why him? Just make it disappear. His existence haunted the deepest depths of their mind, blood pumping alarmingly fast at the sound of his laugh. They wished it would all just wash away.

He just wouldn't give up. Down the building and onto the sidewalk they dropped. As they began to run passed the sewing shop an idea crossed their mind.

"Pervert! He's following me! Help!" y/n yelled loudly in hopes of gaining the attention of some old friends.

Success. The older ladies of the shop raced out to help. They wouldn't let any harm come to their young friend.

---

It had started out as a small crush, easy to ignore. He never fawned over them, barely even looked their way. It was so simple to avoid those miniscule feelings. Keyword being "was".

Y/n was the Straw hat's artist. Their personal art was kept away from prying eyes. Until, he came along.

Early morning sun drifted over the quiet kitchen as their pencil shamelessly danced across paper, one stroke to the right, then a curve to the left. Vaguely aware of his presence, their attention was absorbed in their work.

Unknown to them Sanji had stopped prepping breakfast and was softly approaching. He leaned over their shoulder to see a masterpiece in the making. His hair caressed their ear. Y/n slowed down as realization had seeped in.

"The wispy lines make it look delicate, red ribbons add a nice pop of color, and the soft colorful shading really pulls it all together. It's probably your best work yet." Sanji said examining their work. His breath gently brushed  a strand of y/n's hair.

"Thanks." y/n answered as calmly as possible, refusing to show how flustered they were.

Sanji strode away at an even pace, unknowing of y/n's lingering gaze.

How dare he....

Y/n's face grew slightly warmer as they tried desperately to focus on the drawing.

---

Y/n slowed their speed enough to amusingly glance back at his suffering.

That broom has got to hurt

Hastily y/n took a left turn, rushing toward the bridge.

When they arrived here the crew was surprised to find that it was y/n's home Island.

Y/n wanted to take a small break from the crew and stay there for a month to study under a master artist. Luffy agreed, but decided to make a game out of it.

If y/n could avoid being touched by Sanji for a whole hour they could leave to study for a month.

Then why was Sanji, so determined? Well, they didn't mention it was only for a month.

Dust and dirt coated his shirt, hair disheveled, and yet his will untouched. He arose from the pavement. Left turn and to the bridge he ran. Y/n was a third of the way across.

---

Slash after slash. He couldn't get close enough to land a decent kick. He'd gotten himself into a fight with a skilled distant to mid range fighter.

Warm crimson dripped down as he panted leaning against a wall. He dropped to the floor desperately to avoid another shot. Failure. Yet another hit had landed. Aggressively the air was stolen from his lungs. His vision grew blurry and sound distant. He'd lost. A gun pointed to his head, it was over.

Blood splattered. Metal hit stone. A knife had embedded itself into the hand of the enemy. A familiar figure rushed in, blade in hand. The deed was done, and the body hit the floor.

"Sanji! Stay awake. I'll get Chopper. Everything will be alright." The shadowy figure said in an echoey voice before quickly disappearing from his sight.

He vision faded as a brown furry blob ran up to him.

Everything hurt. A light peaked in through the window blinding him. He turned his head to avoid the bright nuisance. The door creaked open and the little doctor walked in.

"Don't move around too much, you almost died. If you need anything or help going somewhere just ask." Chopper said as he checked for any reopened wounds.

"What happened? I know I lost." Sanji replied in a stained voice staring at the ceiling.

"Y/n was nearby and took him out. I was too weak after my fight to lift you, so they carried you too. Everyone else is busy and I'm still feeling weak, so y/n will be checking in on you." chopped answered before walking out of the room.

I need to thank them.

A knock came from the door.

"Come in." He said as clearly as he could muster.

Y/n walked in.

"Feelin alright? Need anything?" Y/n asked sitting down in the chair next to the bed.

"I'm doing pretty well for someone who almost died." He joked. "I could really use some water, if you don't mind." He added shortly after.

"Alright."

Y/n left for a moment and came back with a glass of water. His arms weren't in the best condition so y/n had to help him hold the glass.

Water dripped down his chin. Y/n carefully set the glass down. They leaned in and gently dabbed him dry with their sleeve.

Sanji's eye widened slightly and his view drifted to the floor.

"Thank you, for everything. I'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in..." He said quietly voice trailing off. His eye refused to meet theirs and remained glued to the floorboards below.

"It's not a problem." They said smiling. Their gaze traveled to his disheveled hair.

"Your hair is a bit messy. Do you mind if I tidy it up a bit?" Y/n asked finally gaining the attention of his avoidant gaze.

"N-No, go ahead." He said embarrassment filling him at the thought of how much of wreck he probably looked like.

Y/n left for a moment returning with a brush. Soft bristles stroked his hair. The brushing slowed wherever it got caught in a knot. They gently untangled his messy golden locks.

Warmth filled him and his heart fluttered at their whisper of a touch.

I might not have seen it clearly, but damn they looked so badass saving me back there.

---

He caught up to y/n quickly. They dodged his hand for the fifth time that day, sidestepping and shoving a large metal cart off the bridge.

They crossed the bridge as adrenaline slipped away. A lack of footsteps behind caused them to slow to a stop. He wasn't there.

Eyes traveled below to see a soggy Sanji washed ashore with the metal cart pinning him at the waist in such a way that he shouldn't be able get up. Guilt drifted in and so they made their way down.

Rough rocks crunch under their shoes as they cautiously walk up to him. Y/n squatted down to examine him better.

Slowly his head lifts to see them. The dust and dirt had washed away and in return a small scratch on his cheek filled its place. His arm outstretched to touch them, they were but an inch too far. It was clear that he was stuck.

Knowing their win was only a minute away y/n sat down before him. Bitter ticking drifted to his ears as they pulled out a pocket watch.

He couldn't win.

A coldness crawled through him and his heart cried for it to be a lie.

"Y/n, please don't go. Please..." His voice cracked.

They continued to silently hold up the watch  and stare off into the distance as time slowly slipped away from his grasp.

"Stay. Please. I can't lose you!" He cried out as he reached for them.

Tears began to slide down his face.

"Y/n, I love you! Please!" He pleaded, crying harder and reaching out for anything, his head down in despair.

Suddenly a softness made contact with his hand. Looking up, he couldn't believe his eyes. Sanji's hand was nestled into y/n's hair.

"3. 2. 1. Time is up, you win." Y/n said looking up and smiling at him from their now hunched over position.

Carefully the cart was lifted and set aside.

They pulled him up and held him close.

"It's alright, I'll stay." y/n said as Sanji clung on, his wet hair and clothes dripping all over them.

"Come on. Let's head back and get you all dried off." They said letting go.

Sanji lingered a few seconds longer before letting go.

---

The crew happily welcomed them back and the pair headed off to y/n's room to dry off.

Sanji sat on y/n's bed wearing an oversized sweater of theirs, bandage on his cheek. Y/n stood before him gently drying his hair off with a towel as he nuzzled his face into their chest. His hands gripped fistfuls of y/n's loose shirt.

"You alright?" y/n asked looking down to where his face was buried.

"I was so scared." He whispered.

Y/n tensed before wrapping their arms around him.

"I'm sorry...I was only leaving for a month." Y/n's voice escaped remorsefully as they rubbed his back.

He looked up, eyes wide.

"A month?!" He whispered loudly.

"Mmmhmm, I wasn't planning on leaving permanently...but I just couldn't leave a poor, crying,  baby boy behind. Wouldn't have been able focus on studying." They said quietly pulling him in close and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

He buried his face into their neck to avoid their gaze.

"Aww, it's ok. I don't mind staying with. My. Precious. Baby. Boy." Y/n said closely to his ear, slowing the pace to say each word separately for emphasis.

He held them tightly and refused to raise his head.

Y/n's hand slid down to lightly trace the shape of his side. He shivered beneath their touch.

"Do you like that? Would you like more, my love?" y/n said teasing him.

He nodded still not looking up at them.

"Alright then, as you wish, darling. Stop me if I go too far." y/n said with a hint of underlying mischief.

Their finger traced down his side, to his hip, across his thigh, and stopped at his knee for a moment. They began to work back before sliding under the sweater. They slowed to see if he'd stop them and when he didn't an affectionate warmth filled them. His grip tightened and they continued, sliding their hand up his back.

"Sanji, please look at me." Y/n said gently, tracing hearts on his back.

He loosened his grip to look at them. Immense heat radiated from his face and ears, eyes half lidded.

"I love you with all my heart." Y/n said leaning in and stopping a miniscule distance from his lips and looking deeply into his eyes.

He froze before closing his eyes and crossing the distance between then.

Y/n's hand slid down from his back and gripped his thigh lifting the leg up as the other hand was lost in his hair.

Y/n gently pushed Sanji onto the mattress as their kiss reached its end. They couldn't help but loving gaze down at him. He looked so adorable beneath them.

They pulled up the sweater looking repeatedly at him, to check if he was alright with it. He tugged on their sleeve dazedly. Leaning in they left a trail of soft kisses all across his collar bone, down the center of his chest, and worked back up to his neck.

Sanji leaned in to their touch and slowly slipped into a sleepy haze.

"Are you tired?" Y/n asked ceasing another trail of kisses.

Sanji nodded and wrapped his arms around the neck, pulling their face closer to him.

"Alright, you can sleep with me tonight, my precious prince."y/n said placing one last kiss on his cheek.

The couple crawled under the covers. Y/n pulled his head to their chest wrapping their arms around and tangling their legs with his.

He slipped away into a sweet slumber, engulfed in their love.

[simpsiren]

eric sohn x reader

description. Being away from your family for Christmas, you decided to stay at a guest house for a week. Though the time you spent there wasn’t quite what you expected when another person apparently booked the same place as well.

genre. FLUFF, angst, strangers to lovers au

word count. 5.3k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. i wanted to try writing for the boyz so here’s my first one! i’ll try to be as accurate as possible with the personality but please excuse me if its not because im new to their fandom but i’d love to write about other groups than nct sooo

You aimlessly scrolled through the options available to you on the app. The different houses flying in a blur while you scrolled your thumb up and scanned your eyes over the description of each listing.

You would love to spend Christmas with your family but they knew it would be a hassle for you to fly to them and only staying there for a month before flying back. Instead, they urged you to have fun on your own for the holidays, not being cooped up in your apartment.

After browsing for at least thirty minutes, you finally found a house that suited your liking. The house faced a beautiful beach scenery. It was large and spacious. The facilities around it provided you with lots of fun things that’ll occupy your week’s stay there.

After looking over the listing once more to ensure that it’s the confirmed option you wanted, you wasted no time to type in your credit card information and waited for the confirmation email to appear in your inbox.

You were definitely going to have fun here.

The moment you stepped in, you were greeted with places like food courts, cafes, an arcade, and lots more. As a person who liked spending time alone, you appreciated how the facilities would keep you busy and not being bored during your stay.

You made your way over to your assigned house. Just when you were footsteps away from it, you stopped in your tracks when you saw a guy lounging on the couch through the large wall sized window that gave a clear view of the living room. Your eyes flicker to the top right of the window where it showed your house number, looking down at your phone to do a double check.

It was your house without a doubt.

Confused as to what was going on in front of your eyes, you decided to head over to the reception to try and ask for assistance. Unfortunately, it wasn’t too helpful.

“Sorry I can’t do anything about it. Fix it yourself.” The young teenage boy said, chewing a gum in his mouth and fully concentrated with whatever he was playing on his phone.

You heaved a quiet sigh. “Can I at least talk to your manager or something? It’s probably a mix up and-”

You stopped when his eyes flickered up, glaring at you intensively. “I already said no. Have a nice day.” He stated, clearly unbothered on doing his job and exiting out of your sight through the staff’s room.

“I swear to fucking God...” You mumbled under your breath. Your eyes went back to your house where you still saw the guy sitting on the couch and minding his own business.

Your feet stood rooted to the ground with your eyes wondering around the place as you tried to figure out a solution. You took in a deep breath. Although this wasn’t what you wanted to do, you had to do it.

You went in front of the glass, his eyes were still on his iPad. You gulped and knocked on the glass. His eyes immediately shot up to the glass door and looked at you.

Awkwardly, you kept eye contact with him. You could have sworn you were in some kind of staring contest for a whole minute. Not getting a response, you reached your hand up to knock once again.

Another moment of silence passed until he stood up and walked to the window, sliding the glass door open.

“Is there something I can help you with?” He raised a brow in question as his hand was still gripped onto the glass.

“Um sorry to bother but this house is actually the one that I booked?” You said, pointing to the number plate without extending your hand out too much. You watched as his forehead creases and a line appearance between his brows.

He glanced down on the floor before flickering his eyes back to you. “But I was the one that booked this house though.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before opening your phone and showing him your confirmation email. He blinked at you. “Wait what the...” He mumbled.

He scratched his head, signalling that he wasn’t sure of what to do as well. He clicked his tongue before saying, “Do you mind if I try to do something about this?” He lifted his phone up. You could only assume that he wanted to call someone to fix this.

“Sure.” You replied with a slight nod.

You decided to sit down on the bench in front of the house and watched making a phone call. You rested your chin on the palm of your hand, waiting for a long while. You were even shocked at the fact that he suddenly started laughing and joking with whoever was on the other side of the line.

Tired of waiting, you stood up and slide the glass door open forcefully, making him turn his head to you at the loud bang the door made.

“Okay I have no idea what you are doing but I’m tired of waiting for your so called discussion. If you want the house, have it. I’ll spend my Christmas somewhere else.” You snarled.

He wasn’t fazed by your sudden explosion of anger, keeping his eyes on you as a wide smirk was made. He whispered something on his phone before ending the call and shoving his phone in his back pocket.

The two of you remained intense eye contact as he slowly walked up to you with folded arms.

“I was about to let you in and share the house with me since I’m alone but apparently your anger seems to be saying that we won’t get along well. I now have a bad impression of you.” He taunted.

Your face immediately went blank as you blinked at him. “Um wait. I’m sorry for that. I need a place to stay for the week so please.” Your tone hinting a sense of begging.

You were certainly unsure of this decision he offered but then again, you thought about your Christmas, and how you wanted to spend it. This was better than nothing.

Without hearing an answer, you whispered a, “Please.” once again.

He sighed lazily and let out a ‘tsk’. “Fine. Come in.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded, proceeding to drag your suitcase in. You noticed that he sat down at the same place on the couch when you first saw him. You decided to seat down as well, leaving a large gap in between the two of you.

“I’m Na Hyunjin.” You introduced yourself, observing the guy head down. You had to admit, he did caught you at first glance. HIs features that intrigued you became more defined and sharp as you looked at him up close. He had a lean and good looking body as well. He wore a white oversized shirt with grey sweatpants that eventuated his body in an appealing way.

“Eric.” He simply replied back. You puckered your lips as the two of you sat there in silence, awkwardly looking at everything else but each other. You were the first to speak up. “How long are you staying here for?” You asked, allowing yourself to get comfortable on the couch.

“A week.” A smiled unexpectedly appeared on your face. You weren’t sure how that sudden soft smile popped up, but you guess it was because you had something to talk about instead of being awkward with each other.

“I’m staying here for a week as well. Actually, why are you spending Christmas alone here?” You tried to carry on with the conversation. You saw him frown slightly, but quickly covered it with a small smile. “Well my girlfriend broke up with me. I only had her since my parents moved to who knows where for years now.” He whispered as he stared at the blank television. He gulped as he took in a deep breath.

“What about you?” He asked, finally turning his head to look at you. Your eyes widened slightly before answering. “I’m away from my parents and I have no one else so I decided to spend my holidays here for the fun of it.” You replied simply with a shrug. “Sorry about your girlfriend though...” You added on. 

Eric waved his hand in the air lazily, as if swatting away your words. “I’m not here to be sad so you don’t have to talk about it.” 

You nodded immediately and rose from your seat, grabbing your suitcase and pulling to close to you. “I guess I’ll unpack first then.” You announced. He hummed in response, taking his phone out of his pocket and proceeded to play with it.

You got your huge suitcase up to the second floor without a problem. You glanced at Eric who had his eyes on you with his mouth slightly gaped, probably impressed by how much strength you had. You got to the second floor and tried finding an unused room. It wasn’t a surprise to find out that Eric had the largest one.

You peeked inside and saw his belongings that were placed in a way that made his room looked extremely clean and organised. You shrugged and closed the door before finding another room. 

It didn’t take you long to pick a room. It was big, but wasn’t as big as Eric’s. But you were fine with it and got in, starting to take your time unpacking. 

Absentmindedly leaving your door open, you were playing songs on your phone while you unpacked, vibing and dancing around while you put your stuff in its designated places. You guessed your loud volume and singing overpowered Eric’s voice when you suddenly hear him shouting your name at your door, knocking twice. Your head instantly turned and went to off the song that was playing in the background. 

Eric leaned his hip against the door frame, folding his arms while his eyes scanned your room. You would lying if you said he didn’t look good just by standing there.

“I’m about to buy takeout. Do you want anything?” Your eyes immediately widened at his words.

“Excuse me we’re out on a staycation and you want takeout? Let’s just cook something for dinner.” You requested.

Eric glanced sideways as you kept quiet, looking up and thinking about it. “Sure, we can head to the supermarket. I’ll wait for you to get ready then.” He stated. You quickly pulled out whatever’s left in your suitcase and tossing it onto your bed.

While you were sorting out your things, you still felt Eric’s presence and eyes glued to your back. Your turned around with threw him a raised brow. “Are you going to stand there the whole time?”

Eric didn’t reply. You noticed how he was observing you. You weren’t sure of what he was looking for, but suddenly made eye contact with you, boring into your eyes. “No.” He said in a monotone voice before swiftly turning around and going back to his room, hearing the door close.

You let out something that resembled a chuckle by how boring he acted. “He better not be those good looking guys that are cold and distant.” You said to yourself as you stared out to the hall as if Eric was still standing there.

You finally finished packing and grabbed your necessities, walking down the stairs and seeing Eric on the couch once again, this time he had a black hoodie over his white shirt that showed slightly at the end of the hoodie.

You got close to him and poked his shoulder lightly. Without saying a word, he stood up and the two of you went out together and headed to the supermarket.

“Wait, can you even cook?” Eric asked, clearly doubts and uncertainty shining through in his tone. You rolled your eyes and placed a hand on your chest, gasping loudly as you faked a surprised expression.

“You’re going to have to trust my cooking skills since you’re going to be with me for another six days.” You informed him confidently with a shrug as you took a cart and proceeding to take out your phone and headed to your notes app where you had a recipe for pasta in it.

Your eyes scanned down the list and you immediately went to an aisle to search for the ingredients. While you were picking out items off the shelves, you glanced at Eric, who simply followed you behind mindlessly.

You stopped in your tracks and spun around. Due to your sudden action, Eric lost his balance while trying to not bump into you. But instead, he fell forward and immediately supported himself by gripping onto the cart on both sides, trapping you in as the two of you got very close.

You were pretty sure your breathing stopped as you looked into his eyes. The moment went past quickly when he brought himself away from you and stood up straight. “What’s with the sudden stop?” Eric asked, seemingly sounding annoyed.

You let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t seem to be helping me.” You replied with a cocked brow and a slight smile.

Eric shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight onto one leg. “So?” He asked back, tilting his head and copying your expression.

“So get me the rest of the items while I pick out other things that aren’t on the list.” You simply replied, shoving your phone to him. You let him look at the list, his eyes immediately widening. You could tell he looked unsure but he proceeded to look up at you with an arrogant smile. “Alright.”

You chuckled lowly at his confidence and walked away. Obviously you weren’t going to find anything, you just wanted to see how Eric was going to do what he was told.

You kept a large distance between you and him as he grabbed the cart and started strolling around the supermarket. He didn’t pick anything out, constantly looking down at your phone and to the sign above the aisles. You gaped your mouth open in shock when you found him in the chips aisle, grabbing random bags of chips and shoving it into the cart.

You immediately ran up to Eric and grabbed his wrist. He flinched at the sudden contact. “What are you doing?!” You shouted softly, looking down at the cart and seeing three bags of chips.

“I gave up finding what you needed so I went to get chips instead.” He replied nonchalantly, motioning his hand out towards the chips.

You placed a hand on your forehead, facepalming before snatching back your phone and faked an exasperated face. “Go queue up. I’ll find the rest of the ingredients.” You immediately looked down on your phone and dashed away.

You were quick to gather up everything that you needed and headed to the paying area. You widened your eyes when you saw Eric standing in front of the cashier as they started to check out the items one by one. You ran there quickly and dropped the items on the conveyor belt.

“Damn you’re good.” Eric complimented. You looked down and noticed the chips being scanned. “Why are the chips still there?” You questioned.

“Chill i’ll need it in case I want a midnight snack. Oh and I bought sweet drinks too.” Eric pointed his head towards the plastic bag where you saw two big bottles of what seemed to be peach tea.

You sighed and shook your head. “Okay, okay.” The cashier finished checking everything out. Just when you were about to take out your wallet, Eric held your wrist. You jumped at the sudden contact, looking up at him and nodding his head slightly before saying, “I’ll pay.” in the most cliché way possible.

You gulped and forced your hand out of his grip before nodding quickly. Eric paid for the groceries and insisted on carrying it all, though you consistently insisted on at least carrying one bag.

The two of you headed back to the house and placed all the groceries om the kitchen counter. “I’m going to assume you can’t cook so leave it to me and do your own things. I’ll call you when I’m done.” You informed Eric, proceeding to take out the groceries and lining them up on the counter.

Eric only shrugged. You turned your back and began to cook. Though once again, just like when you were in your room, you felt Eric’s presence. Glancing back, you find him playing with his phone while sitting on a chair at the counter.

“What are your plans for the week? You know, if I wasn’t here.” You asked, wanting to strike up a conversation as you kept your back on Eric.

“I would have gone out and have a meal outside. I’d probably spend the week playing at the arcade or the lounge area. Just... exploring the place I guess.”

You hummed, happy with his answer. “Looks like we have a similar plan.”

You didn’t hear Eric reply. A moment went past before you heard him let out a breath. “Why? You want to spend your trip here with me?” Eric asked with a tone of cockiness.

You scoffed and turned around after turning of the heat. “Would you like that?” You tilted your head with a wide grin. You were checking through the drawers to find plates. You heard Eric saying something but you couldn’t hear it since it was overpowered by the clanking of the glass plates.

“What?” You asked again, putting the pasta on the plates and grabbing two forks before bringing your readymade dinner in front of Eric. He glanced down at the meal before looking at you.

“I said I’ll be fine with that.” Eric whispered before digging in with no hesitation. “Holy shit this is good.” He hummed dreamily and he went in for another bite, chewing with a smile as he looked down at his plate. You couldn’t help but find him cute for that.

After the two of you finished your meals, you spent the night in your separate rooms, not a single form of communication was made. That is until you started to suddenly grow hungry at three in the morning and decided to steal some chips that Eric bought from the grocery shopping.

You slid your phone into your sweatpants and opened the door cautiously. Luckily, no sound came from it so you proceeded to walk down the dark hallway where the only place that was lit was the small light at the corner of the living room.

You tiptoed your way down, taking small steps down the stairs till you reached the kitchen. You chose not to turn on the lights because you were afraid it would produce a loud sound that might trigger Eric. You didn’t know if he was a light or heavy sleeper and you didn’t want to take your chances.

You opened the fridge and noticed how one bag of chips was opened. Specifically the spicy flavoured one. You were definitely intrigued by the chips and snatching it immediately.

You made the decision of sitting on the kitchen counter instead of your room so that you wouldn’t need to go back and forth.

While you were munching on the goods, you suddenly heard a loud bang. Your head instantly turned to the direction of the noise, realising it came from the glass door that lead to the backyard where you could get a clear view of the beach.

You squinted your eyes and tilted your head in awe. You didn’t see anyone there. Not being too bothered by it, you went back to reaching your hand into the bag of chips and stuffing it in your mouth.

While chewing, you heard the fridge open. Once again your head turned to the fridge, seeing a large figure standing in front of it.

“Eric?” You called out. He hummed in reply, taking out the large bottle of peach tea and closing the fridge before turning to you.

“Are you that lazy that you couldn’t at least go to the living room and eat instead of sitting on the counter?” Eric held the large bottle in one hand and taking a sip from it, his lips not making contact with the tip of the bottle.

“Yeah, I am.” You absentmindedly did a double take at him, noticing how the figure of his body looked amazing despite it looking like just a shadow in the dark. You looked at down on your phone, continuing to scroll through your socials.

Oddly enough, Eric sat on top of the counter as well, his body getting close to you as he peeked at your phone. Your heart raced at the small amount of space in between the two of you. It felt like the incident at the supermarket but this time, it wasn’t.

“Oh my god he did what?” Eric whispered shockingly, his eyes reading over what was on your phone. You were reading a story from an online website. “I find it funny.” You let out, hiding your soft laugh by covering your mouth with your arm.

“Hurry up and scroll. We need to keep reading this.” Eric whined, slamming the huge bottle on the table lightly.

You dropped the bag of chips beside you and took the drink, proceeding to down a few gulps while your lips made contact with the lid. It was a habit of yours to do that. “Are you saliva cautious?” You asked, completely forgetting that you were sharing the drink with someone.

Eric simply let out a shrug. “I’m fine with it.” Eric proceeded to take bottle back and take another sip.

“What should we do tomorrow? There’s so much to explore...” You suddenly asked as your mind went to the brochure that had a map with all the activities and such that the place provided.

“You got a clear plan?” Eric asked back. You shrugged. Kind of like the same way he did moments ago. “Not exactly.”

“Then we’ll just figure it out on the spot.” Eric answered nonchalantly. “Sometimes it’s nice to head somewhere without a map or destination. Who knows where you’ll end up.”

You let out a soft laugh in response. “That’s sounds... Amazing. But also terrifying.”

“It’s not like you’ll die here.”

“Never thought of you as a deep person...” You mumbled.

“How was that deep?”

“Travelling without a map and not knowing where you’re headed? That’s something deep to think about.”

You paused to think for a moment. “Is this your three in the morning feels or something?” A small smirk appeared on your lips as a brow cocked up.

Eric scoffed, seemingly in denial but quickly grew quiet as he didn’t give an answer until at least twenty seconds later. “Probably because of the reason I came here in the first place.”

You then remembered what he said in the evening about his girlfriend that he broke up with. You slowly nodded your head and frowned, thinking about how you would do the same thing.

“It’s an escape trip.” You stated with a soft sigh. “Don’t worry. I don’t like having people with a negative energy around me. Let’s make this a fun trip.” You nodded with affirmation.

Eric rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he nodded as well.

You woke up peacefully at eleven in the morning. Yes, it was your habit to sleep early and have more hours of sleep than what is considered normal. You were still laying in bed despite being wide awake, rolling around in your bed and playing with your phone. As the clock struck twelve, you finally decided that it was time for you to head down and find something to eat.

You flinched back in shock when you found Eric silently sitting on the couch. It looked like he was going out since he was wearing jeans and a sweater. Once again, his clothes suited his body well.

“Well you look pretty.” Eric greeted, his eyes glued to his phone. You furrowed your eyebrows. He probably saw you come down while you were still half asleep.

“Are you going somewhere?” You asked, rubbing your eyes vigorously with one hand while the other went to the fridge to grab a cup of sweet drink.

“Didn’t we agree to spend time here together? You do realise it’s afternoon, right?” He placed his phone down and looked at me.

You yawned, accidentally but also not. “I am well aware. You’ll have to put up with this.” You took a sip and gulped it down. Before you were going to walk back up to your room, you looked at Eric who had his eyes on you.

“Give me thirty minutes.” Was all you said before heading to your room to get ready.

Since you didn’t want to keep Eric waiting, you quickly showered and threw on wide legged jeans and tucked in a random sweater before putting your necessities in a sling back and went back down.

You went to Eric as waited for him as he stood up as went to the door. You clipped your hair up in a lazy bun as the two of you went out.

Eric shoved his hands in his pockets as he swerved around to look at you. “What should we do first?” He asked, with a gentle and warm smile.

“Let’s go to the arcade.” You replied with excitement, jumping a little in your spot as your finger immediately went up to point at the arcade.

Eric chuckled with a wide smile. A smile that unexpectedly resulted in butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For once you actually felt and understood the feeling that every romance novel expressed.

If you could describe the day you had with Eric in one word, it would be special. The two of you did a lot of things that day. Going to the arcade, having a delicious lunch at a restaurant and discovered one of the few small theme parks they had. Since this was only day two of your stay here, you two decided it would be best to not explore the whole place too quickly.

To your surprise, Eric was way different from when you first met him. He was bright and cheerful as the two of you constantly made jokes and played around like kids. You felt happy to have someone you could enjoy your time with instead of being alone most of the time. It was something new to you grew to love it quickly.

“The sunset is pretty.” You whispered as the two of you sat at a random beach chair, looking out to the far distance where the sun started to set.

Silence filled the space between you and Eric. But this time, the silence was a peaceful one. One where you didn’t feel the need to break the ice like you did when you first met Eric.

“Should we do this everyday?” Eric asked, turning his head from the view and to you. You looked back, answering with a soft smile and nodding your head. “I’d love that.”

As the days went on, you and Eric got close to each other quick. It felt like you instantly clicked with each other despite being different. Seemingly enough, you two followed your plan of exploring the place without an actual idea in mind. And to be honest, you felt extreme happiness. You tried places that you didn’t see before the first time you went to explore and you ended up liking it. You didn’t know whether it was because of the place itself or perhaps having Eric there with you. You liked how Eric was around you. And to be honest, it made your stomach churn, as well as making your cheeks blush a light pink whenever you were with him. 

Eric was the same too. You noticed how to would steal glances at you whenever the two of you walked silently and he always had his eyes on you. Though you sometimes caught him looking at you, he brushed it off and made up an excuse to deny it. That was another thing that you grew to like about him.

It was now day six of your trip. You felt as though this trip was ending too quickly and time flew by too fast for you and Eric.

“Hey, do you actually ever believed in the mistletoe thing?” You asked Eric as the two of you walked down a path where there was a mistletoe at the end of it. Once again you have spent your day with Eric well as you surprisingly got through all the activities and amusement parks provided. “I did it with my girlfriend once. Supposedly, it was suppose to mean that the one you confessed to would be with you for a long time. But look at where that got me.”

Well, that answered your question. 

“Stop.” You said in a firm tone as you lifted a hand up in front of Eric. He did as he was told, standing in his spot. You moved so that you were standing in front of him, one hand holding his wrist.

Eric was confused by your sudden action despite giving a blank face. “We’re above the mistletoe.” You pointed out, jerking your head upwards. Eric glanced up and hummed in response. 

You didn’t know what came over you, but you suddenly went in and give Eric a quick peck on the cheek. You watched Eric’s expression. To be fair, you were just as stunned as he was by what you just did.

He remained silent for awhile, his eyes were widened ever so slightly as he blinked his eyes slowly, looking at you in somewhat a disbelief face. He finally processed the situation and gave a light chuckle. “That was cute.” Eric admitted. 

You smiled at his response. You for some reason thought that he would react in a different way. Maybe in disgust or discomfort. But you also felt that you shouldn’t be surprised since the way he treated you throughout the trip has definitely grown to be more affectionate in a romantic manner, to which you reciprocated wholeheartedly.

Surprisingly (but also not), you now found yourself on the bench at the backyard at two in the morning, lightly snowing as you admired the night atmosphere of the beach in front of you, with Eric’s head on your lap while you played with his hair between your fingers. You guessed that you grew physically attracted with Eric as well throughout this week.

“You like my hair that much?” Eric asked, his eyes were closed while he admired your touch, but opened it slightly as he turned his head to look up at you. You let out a quiet laugh and nodded. “It’s soft.” You whispered. “I’m also picking out the snow that’s stuck.”

As you gently brushed strands of hair that covered Eric’s eyes, you couldn’t help but think that you wanted to stay in this moment for a long time. You liked the peaceful atmosphere and scenery to set the tone. And importantly, you liked just being here with Eric.

“You’re pretty.” Eric whispered back after a moment of admiring each other’s faces. “You say that every morning when I wake up with my ugly hair and face.” You whined softly.

Eric let out a low chuckle that never failed to make you feel something. “Because you’re still pretty nonetheless.”

“How should we spend our last day here?”

Eric didn’t reply, his eyes glancing down to your lips for a second before taking in a deep breath.

“Can you extend your stay?”

You were taken aback by his request. But you were thinking the same thing as well. “I’d love to. But we basically explored the whole place. What if we get bored?”

Eric lifted his head up from your lap, his hand extending out to cup your cheek in his palm. With his warm touch, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t care. As long as I get to spend all my time with you.” Eric’s hand swiftly traced your jawline before placing two fingers on your chin, tilting your head down as he went up to place a soft kiss on your forehead, his other hand going up to your hair and seemingly brushing off the bits of snow that laid on your hair

Eric didn’t pull back, his lips still on your skin. You didn’t know how long he was going to stay there, but you made sure to treasure every second of it till he pulled away.

“Then I guess I’m stuck with you for another week.”

[mintaka14]

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Five – Apothéose

 The sight of Luka on her doorstep in the morning always caused Marinette’s unruly heart to stutter, but that morning the new memory of the feel of his mouth on hers sent a heady rush through her. Unconsciously, her hand lifted to touch her lips, and his eyes caught on the gesture.

“Come back to the Liberty with me tonight,” Luka coaxed, that husky note in his voice sending shivers down her spine as they started towards the metro together. His fingers tangled with hers, his thumb tracing a line down the edge of her palm. “Just to hang out. Or not.”

“I wish I could,” she sighed, trying to gather the thoughts he was scattering. “But I have to finish fixing the Florine costume I stole before tomorrow morning, or they’re going to find out it’s missing and kick me out of the company and I’ll end up going to jail for the rest of my life, or have to leave the country and go on the run.”

Luka missed a step and came to a stop, pulling her up short.

“Wait, what?”

He was staring at her, his mouth open.

“You stole your costume?”

“After Lila snuck in and damaged it,” Marinette said sourly. “I had to, to fix it.”

“You stole it?” he repeated as if he were stuck on a loop. “When did this happen? How didn’t I know?”

“It was after Lila put glass in my shoes. You were busy being an idiot and avoiding me.”

He jolted into motion again at that, and Marinette found herself engulfed in a tight embrace.

“I really was an idiot,” Luka told her apologetically. “I did suffer for it, though, thinking you were seconds away from telling me you were with Adrien.”

“Good,” she muttered. “It wasn’t exactly a picnic for me, either.” She glanced up at him as they started walking again. “The whole time I was crawling through that ceiling, though, I was wishing it was you there with me.”

“Crawling through the… I have to know, what on earth were you doing in the ceiling? And how the hell did you get up there?”

So she told him. By the time they reached the Palais Garnier, he was wheezing with laughter.

“Melody, you were born to be a Couffaine,” he said, his voice shaking. Marinette shot him a provocative look from under the sweep of her eyelashes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, mister. Before anything else, I need to fix the tutu and find a way to get it back without anyone noticing.”

“That’s all the motivation I need,” he told her a little unsteadily, then the laughter in his eyes became something more intense, and when he bent to kiss her, all thought of the tutu left her in a rush as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“I’m not going to get anything done if you keep doing that,” she complained breathlessly as his hand came up to brush her cheek. “I already lost one night of work last night, and you’re very distracting.”

He grinned down at her. “I promise, no distracting until you’re not facing imminent arrest.”

True to his word, when he climbed through the trapdoor into her bedroom that night he had his acoustic guitar in his hand and Juleka right behind him. Marinette lowered the intricate beading she was reconstructing and raised an eyebrow at the Couffaines, and Juleka rolled her eyes.

“I’m here to make sure there’s no distracting going on,” she said drily. “And I told you so. Dumbasses, the both of you.”

“Ignore her,” Luka told Marinette, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her upturned face. “She’s just being unnecessarily smug. Whatever we can do to help, we’re here.”

“Luka said you need help with a heist,” Juleka said with a faint flicker of enthusiasm.

“More like a reverse heist. I have to break a valuable tutu back into the costume department at the Palais Garnier.”

Juleka’s black lipsticked mouth curled up in a smile. “Awesome. I’m in.”

“None of that’s going to matter if I don’t get it finished first.” Marinette looked down at the heap of glittering beads and satin in her lap and sighed.

“Then you focus on that,” Luka said calmly.

Even with the prospect of ruin staring her in the face, Marinette felt happier than she had in a long time. The pattern of glittering feathers was starting to emerge again, and she threaded another sequin into place, stitching it down.

“Is it weird that I’m actually enjoying myself?”

“Yes,” Juleka muttered.

“No,” Luka answered, and settled himself on the floor with his guitar.

“Are you going to stay with the company after all this?” Juleka asked. “Or are you going to quit?”

“I’m not backing down. I’m not going to give Lila the satisfaction,” Marinette growled. The tune that Luka was idly playing shifted into something a little dissonant.

“If you’re doing something that makes you unhappy just to spite Lila,” Luka said, his attention on his fingering, “then hasn’t she already won?”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just let her get away with everything she’s done.”

“Leave or stay with the ballet company, you know I’m with you. Just don’t let it be because of Lila. That’s giving her too much power over you.” He played an idle chord. “And besides, there are other ways to deal with her.”

“The Seine is deep,” Juleka observed darkly. “No one would find her.”

The Couffaines looked at each other over Marinette’s head.

“No!” she told them forcefully, then added, “Lila can’t spend the rest of her life regretting that she ever messed with me if she’s at the bottom of the Seine.”

And Luka burst out laughing.

“I think we’ve had a bad effect on you, melody,” he managed eventually, and Marinette tilted her nose at him.

“I was perfectly capable of murder and mayhem before you came along, Luka Couffaine.”

Juleka shrugged. “She was. Remember when we first met her?”

“I remember,” Luka said softly, his eyes on Marinette.

“I wonder what happened to that kid who was picking on me, the blonde one who seemed to think she owned the place?” Juleka said, spinning lazily on Marinette’s desk chair. “We never did see her at any more of the arts competitions after that.”

Luka’s guitar drifted from one song into another while they talked and Marinette sewed. It was somewhere around one in the morning when Marinette finally set the last stitch and sighed, holding the costume out to inspect the bodice critically.

She gave another sigh.

“Done.”

She carried it over to her desk and carefully laid the tutu in the linen bag, and came back to collapse onto the couch. Luka set aside his guitar and slid in beside her. He lifted her hand, the feather-soft blue tips of his hair brushing her wrist as he bent to press lingering kisses to the abused fingertips.

“Done,” he echoed tenderly. “Brilliant girl.”

“Gross,” Juleka muttered on the other side of Marinette’s bedroom.

Luka had always been one for casual hugs and touches, at least with the people he truly cared about, but Marinette hadn’t realised how much he’d really held back with her. He ignored Juleka and wrapped himself around Marinette, his face buried in her shoulder, and Marinette sank back into his embrace with a blissful sigh.

“Oh god, you two are going to be completely disgusting from now on, aren’t you?” Juleka groaned.

“Yup,” said Luka into Marinette’s hair.

“So what now?” his sister asked.

“I have no idea,” Marinette said, distracted by the feel of Luka’s lips against her neck. “I have to figure out how to get the costume back before the dress rehearsal tonight, but how on earth am I supposed to do that? I can’t just wander in with a bag full of tutu and say ‘Oh, look what I found!’ ”

She could feel Luka’s chuckle rumble in his chest. “You’re the one with the brilliant ideas. Jules and I are just here to do your bidding.”

She didn’t feel terribly brilliant at that moment, but it was hard to work up much concern about it with Luka’s fingers tracing patterns along the edge of her shirt and his mouth pressing kisses into the sensitive corner of her jaw. Her gaze drifted around the room.

“Oh!“ Marinette sat bolt upright, and Luka complained as she pulled away. He fell backwards into the couch cushions. “Oh, I have a plan. Or… more a start of a plan.”

“Of course you do, melody,” Luka said fondly, still sprawled across the couch.

She reached for her phone.

“Who are you calling?”

She waited for the other end to pick up. “I think Adrien can make himself useful, if he’s really serious about saving everyone’s careers,” she told them, her attention elsewhere as the call connected.

“So… you’re planning to ask the guy you just turned down to help you commit a crime,” Juleka pointed out, just as Adrien answered. “Nice.”

“Marinette?” her partner’s voice said sleepily as the silence grew awkward. “Are you there?”

“… yes, yes I… here. I’m here.” She really hadn’t thought this through. Luka was still stretched out on the couch behind her, but he’d flung his arms over his face and his shoulders were shaking. She gave him a shove, the unhelpful idiot.

“It’s past one a.m. Is everything okay?”

“Adrien, I need your help.”

There was another silence.

“You… need my help?”

“Or your father’s help.”

“My father’s help?”

“Well, not your father in person, because obviously we couldn’t tell him about any of this, but he is Gabriel Agreste and he did design the costumes, so he’d have access to them, and you’re his son, so it’s practically the same thing, and I only have a few hours to work out how to get it back otherwise I’m screwed, and the wardrobe staff are going to be in trouble, and –“

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted her babble, “what do you need?”

“Fake paperwork from Gabriel that needs to be signed by the costume director,” she said in a small voice. “By eight o’clock tomorrow morning. It doesn’t matter what it is, it just needs to sound plausible enough to give someone a reason to be up on the sixth floor.”

There was a long silence, then Adrien’s voice said, “I’ll have something for you tomorrow at eight. I’ll be at the stage entrance then.”

After Marinette hung up, she sank down onto the couch and Luka wrapped his arms around her again. She drew in a deep, ragged breath.

“I just woke Adrien up at one in the morning to get him to help me reverse heist the tutu I stole. I’m going to get myself kicked out of the company and arrested and thrown in La Santé to rot, and they’ll bring tour groups through as a warning to anyone who even thinks about stealing a tutu, while the rats nibble on my feet, and Lila’s going to gloat because she won.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Luka said, deep and sure. “What do you need us to do?”

“I’m going to need a distraction,” Marinette said, tilting her head to look up at her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. That was going to take some getting used to, in all the best ways. “Something to get the staff out of the workshops and draw their attention for a few minutes.”

Luka’s soft smile sharpened to a roguish grin, and Marinette felt a moment of apprehension. There were times when she forgot that he was Anarka’s son.

“I can do that.”

“No explosions,” she cautioned, and his grin grew wider.

“Don’t you trust me? No explosions, no fire, I promise.”

“O-kay.” She gave him another mistrustful glance and turned her attention to Juleka.

“How do you feel about becoming an employee of Gabriel?”

Juleka’s eyebrow rose.

“I can do that,” she said, sounding very like her brother.

“Adrien’s getting paperwork that’d give you an excuse to be up in the costume department – you need to get Mme Marchand to sign something for Gabriel. She’ll be in Costume Central getting everything organised to go down to the dressing rooms before the dress rehearsal. All you need to do is walk the covered tutu up to the sixth floor and stash it near Costume Central, walk in with the paperwork and stall until the distraction gets her out of the room, and then get the tutu in there while no one’s looking.”

“What about the security cameras?” Luka asked.

“As long as we can get the tutu back in with no sign of damage and no sign that it was ever gone, then hopefully there won’t be anything to trigger a security check into what’s on the cameras.”

Juleka shrugged. “By the time anyone checks the cameras, I’ll be out of there. And what are they going to do anyway? There won’t be anything missing, unless we completely botch it.”

“I can get the tutu into the building, but I can’t go anywhere near the sixth floor and the ateliers, particularly not with a tutu bag in my hands, without raising suspicions,” Marinette said. “And neither can you, Luka. You’re orchestra. But there’s nothing to connect Juleka to any of this, particularly not if she goes in disguise.”

“And if they look for me at Gabriel, they won’t find any trace of me there.” Juleka’s mouth curved up in a smile. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Fun was not the word that Marinette would have used. She smothered a yawn, and Juleka pushed herself to her feet.

“Come on, Romeo,” Juleka told her brother. “Mari needs at least some sleep, and you’ll see her again soon enough.”

Marinette followed them down and let them out into the street. Juleka wandered off after a quick hug, but Luka delayed on the doorstep. He reached out to brush a stray piece of hair back from her cheek, and his fingertips lingered.

“You have the most gorgeous blue eyes,” he said softly.

“Luka!” she protested weakly, and the besotted look on his face brought a blush to her cheeks.

“I’m allowed to say things like that now,” he insisted. He ducked his head a little to catch her gaze. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. You’ve fixed the tutu and done brilliant things, and we’ll get it back where it belongs. And then you can figure out where your heart belongs.”

“My heart’s right here,” she sighed. She cuddled into his arms, and let herself breathe in his warm, familiar scent. “If I’m not a ballet dancer,” she said into his shirt, “then what am I?”

“Melody, you are so much more than that.”

Down the street, Juleka called out impatiently, and Luka reluctantly let her go.

“Get some sleep,” he told her. “We’ll figure the rest out in the morning.”

~~~~~

When Luka arrived at the bakery door in the morning, he had Juleka with him, toting a large bag and dressed more conservatively than usual in black pants and a business-like shirt.

“What do you think?” Juleka asked as they headed towards the metro. “I’ve got blonde, red, or a hot-pink razor cut.”

“Why on earth do you have so many wigs?” Marinette asked, and was interested to see Juleka blush. On Marinette’s other side, Luka snorted.

“I bet Rose knows why,” Luka told no one in particular. Juleka reached around Marinette to punch her brother in the arm. “Ow!”

“Is the red one firetruck, or auburn?” Marinette asked, ignoring the sibling violence.

“Auburn.”

“Then go with that. People are more likely to remember the hair than any other detail about you, and once that’s gone, they’re less likely to recognise you again.”

Adrien was lurking inside the stage doors as they arrived, and if anyone had been around it would have been obvious to them that he was up to something. Fortunately, the entrance hallway was empty. Any early morning preparations for the dress rehearsal that night were happening elsewhere, and most of the company dancers wouldn’t be arriving for another hour or so.

Adrien handed Marinette a sheaf of papers, with a stealthy glance around the hallway.

“This should do it,” he said in a stage whisper. Marinette glanced down at them, and they seemed to be something to do with creative intellectual property. “You can just say Natalie misfiled it and needs to be signed again, if anyone asks.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said sincerely. “And I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

“My father is going to kill me if he ever finds out,” he said enthusiastically, “and I don’t even care! I still don’t know how you came up with all this on the fly like that. I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” Adrien told her. He looked over at Luka and Juleka, waiting near the doors. “So you worked it out with Luka, then?”

“Yes,” Marinette admitted, and Adrien nodded.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, and it almost sounded genuine. He glanced ruefully at the papers in her hands. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” she said again. “Really, Adrien, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done.”

He gave another short nod. “I’ll see you in class.” Then he pivoted and strode away.

Marinette drew a deep breath and turned back to Luka and Juleka.

“Right, let’s do this.” She steered them both towards the ladies’ bathroom that hardly anyone ever used on the second floor, trying not to think too hard about what they were about to do, or how heavy the tutu bag hooked over her shoulder suddenly felt. Luka’s hand settled on the small of her back, solid and reassuring, and she glanced up at him.

“Are you going to tell me anything about this distraction of yours?” Marinette wheedled, and Luka kissed the tip of her nose.

“I’m just going to use the fact that most of an orchestra always thinks that the violins are overrated,” he said unperturbedly. “Just text me when you’re ready to go, and give me five minutes to get things moving. Jules, you’ll have a little less than a minute once the alarms go off.”

Juleka nodded, but Marinette’s eyes widened at that. “Alarms?”

~~~~~

Juleka hooked her hand through Marinette’s arm and dragged her away.

“Should I be worried?” Marinette asked, her eyes still on Luka as Juleka pulled her into the ladies’ bathroom with her.

“Too late now,” Juleka told her. “You knew what he was like before you kissed him.”

“That’s not what I meant. Wait here,” Marinette said, and disappeared out of the ladies’ bathroom. Juleka pulled her makeup case out of the tote bag and got to work. She leaned in towards the mirror, carefully putting dark brown contacts over the recognisable golden hazel of her eyes, before she twisted her long black hair up and pinned it. It all disappeared under the auburn bob of her wig.

She was busy outlining her mouth in unremarkable pink when Marinette burst back into the bathroom.

“I got a clothes rack for the tutu,” Marinette said a little breathlessly. “You just need to walk it up to the sixth floor and stash it near Costume Central until Luka does whatever he’s got planned.”

Marinette started unzipping her tutu bag, and Juleka put away the lipstick, reaching for her mascara wand. She shot her friend a sly look in the mirror.

“So, you and Luka. I’m just warning you now, I do not want to know any of the details.”

Marinette sputtered, “I wouldn’t –“

“Oh, he’s so dreamy!” Juleka quoted in a teasing, squeaky voice. “Hasn’t he got the most amazing –“

“Juleka!”

“I’m just saying, some things I really don’t need to hear about my brother, not even from my best friend.” Juleka thought about that for a moment. “Especially from my best friend. It’s bad enough sharing a bedroom wall with him.”

“Oh god,” Marinette was looking horrified, and Juleka couldn’t help smirking at her reflection as she carefully brushed mascara onto her eyelashes.

“And you do go all gushy when you’re in lo-ove. I was there for the Great Adrien Crush, remember?”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

“You know this is different, right?” Marinette asked, sounding a little anxious. “With Luka… It’s… Back when I was seventeen, and Luka had been seeing that girl he met at summer festival, I don’t think I could ever have put it into words at the time, but it felt safer to let myself fall for Adrien like that. It was like a rollercoaster, a fun ride that turned me upside down, and it might have made me want to throw up sometimes, but it was never going to break my heart.”

Marinette’s voice dropped to a whisper that Juleka didn’t think she was meant to hear. “Not like losing Luka would.”

Juleka took pity on her and said, “You know you’re stuck with my idiot brother now, don’t you?” She put down her mascara and turned to Marinette. “He’s all yours, and you get to deal with the sappy songs and him stealing your eyeliner all the time, and his crap all over the place.”

The slow beam that spread over Marinette’s face was every bit as dopey as Luka’s had ever been, and Juleka sighed deeply.

“Let’s get this done before I hurl from a sugar overdose. How do I look?”

Marinette subjected her to a critical investigation. “Unrecognisable.”

They left the bathroom, and Marinette hooked the tutu in its covering over the mobile rack outside, and helped Juleka steer it into the lift used for moving props and costumes. The doors closed behind her.

“Right,” Juleka muttered, and stood straighter as the doors opened again on a corridor of glass windows and workshops and people hurrying past with arms full of shoes and bundles of prop swords. “This is just like performing. Own the stage.”

It wasn’t hard to work out where Costume Central was, and Juleka parked her rack with the tutu nearby, telling herself to just act like she was meant to be there. The one person who gave her a curious glance got Juleka’s best goth glare in return, and turned away as Juleka strode past.

Juleka’s bootheels sounded loud on the wooden floor of Costume Central. The woman who looked up and gave Juleka a cool stare over the top of her glasses was clearly Juleka’s target, and Juleka made her way around the counters and stands full of costumes.

“Mme Marchand?”

“Can I help you?”

Juleka held out the sheaf of paperwork.

“I’m from Gabriel. I’ve been asked to get your signature on these forms.”

While the woman turned over the pages, reading quickly through them, Juleka let her eyes wander around the room. She caught a glimpse of a rack with six or seven linen-covered tutus, and a tag with the words Soloist Dressing Room just visible. That was obviously her best bet for returning Marinette’s tutu.

“I’ve already signed these,” the woman said impatiently, and Juleka jolted back to attention. “M. Agreste should already have these.”

“Maybe they got lost or something.” Shit, what was the name Adrien had said? “All I know is, Natalie said she can’t find the paperwork, and we needed to get another copy signed, like, now.”

“Natalie?” the woman said with a frown. “Natalie Sancoeur? It’s not like her to lose something like the intellectual property contracts. Was she the one who sent you here?”

Juleka tried to look bored rather than nervous, like this was all above her pay grade and she didn’t care as long as no one was blaming her. She gave a shrug, hoping that the nerves didn’t show, and pointed at the sheaf of papers.

“They just gave me those, and said get your signature.”

That was the moment when the alarms went off at the other end of the floor, and they both whipped around to face the disturbance. Juleka let out the breath that she’d been holding as Mme Marchand almost ran to deal with this new crisis. She could have kissed her brother for his sense of timing.

Now she had a matter of seconds, and a contraband tutu to restore, before they all got caught.

~~~~~

“Alarms?” The way that Marinette’s beautiful blue eyes went wide was adorable, and Luka gave Marinette one more lingering kiss before Juleka hauled her away and he was left to his own devices.

He wandered in the direction of the staff cafeteria. He was counting on finding enough of the orchestra there, even this early in the morning, and he let his gaze drift over the scattered tables. He settled on one of the louder groups, and sauntered over to join them.

Luka might be the calm one, the port in the storm, but Marinette needed a distraction and Couffaines knew all about chaos and how to stir it up.

He dropped into an empty seat, grinning as one of the percussionists tried to get the timpani soloist in a headlock, and he threw a comment or two into the usual bragging going on. Most of his attention, though, was on his phone, and when it buzzed he glanced down at Marinette’s message before he slid it back into his pocket and leaned forward on his elbows.

“Yeah, yeah,” he told the young French horn player that he knew vaguely from the post-grad program at the Conservatory. “You say you guys have wind and stamina, but you’re all talk. You couldn’t keep up with me.”

He laughed, leaning back while the French horn took the bait, puffing out his chest.

“No way, violin boy! All you string monkeys have going for you is a bit of wrist action.” The horn player made a crude gesture. “Us brass guys can go all night.”

“Prove it,” Luka said with a lift of his eyebrow. “Doesn’t even have to be all night. Let’s see if you’ve got the wind to outrun me.” He swept a mocking glance around the table. “Anyone else think they can keep up with the string monkey? Loser buys the drinks tonight.”

And that, as he knew it would be, was the magic phrase. Half a dozen chairs were shoved back, and a handful of musicians were on their feet, all talking over each other and jeering and laughing.

“So where’re we gonna do this?” the French horn player challenged him, and Luka pretended to think about it.

“Up the emergency stairs, through the sixth floor, back down here. Last one back here buys the drinks.”

There was more laughing and jostling, and someone yelled Go! And they took off in a scramble of elbows and knees. Luka grinned as he jogged down the corridor just behind the horde.

The echo in the emergency stairwell was deafening as they panted and gasped their way up the stairs, and the door alarms shrilled with satisfying volume as the horn player at the front of the pack shoved the sixth floor doors open and belted into the costume department corridor. Staff came to the windows and boiled out of the doors in confusion as the musicians clattered past, and a woman with an air of authority emerged from the Costume Central door, striding towards them with a look of fury.

“Be careful of the costumes!” the woman yelled over the noise.

Costumiers and dressers yanked racks of clothing out of their path, shouting after them, and in the chaos, Luka was relieved see that no one seemed to notice his sister whisk the large round linen bag off one of the mobile stands and into Costume Central.

Then Juleka was out of sight and the runners were thundering down the staircase at the other end of the corridor. No need for Plan B. Luka put a hand to the stair railing, and vaulted over the side.

He hit the fifth floor and came to his feet just as the horn player yelled, “Hey! That’s cheating!”

“No one said there was a rule against it!” Luka yelled back, and kept going down the stairs at a breakneck pace. After a lifetime climbing all over his mother’s boat in all sorts of weather, a solid staircase held no terrors. On the second floor he blew a kiss to the adorable dancer with the startled blue eyes as he passed her, and skidded into the cafeteria.

He dropped into a chair and leaned back nonchalantly, his hands behind his head, as the French horn player collapsed and puffed and the rest of the horde staggered over to the table.

“I think we said something about loser buying tonight?” Luka said, surreptitiously glancing back in the direction of the corridor where his girlfriend and his sister would be.

“No fair,” the horn player gasped.

“Nobody said anything about fair,” Luka said, and grinned. “Good race, though. Drinks are on you.”

~~~~~

“Distraction,” Marinette muttered as her boyfriend raced past her and threw her a kiss. The sound of alarms were still echoing down the main stairwell, and she flattened herself against the wall beside the ladies’ bathroom as half a dozen other young men ran past. “I suppose that was pretty distracting.”

She glanced up at the staircase nervously, and tried to calm her breathing. Juleka was taking a long time, wasn’t she?

“What are you doing? Hiding in the toilets? That seems appropriate,” a voice said, and Marinette startled badly, clutching a hand to her chest.

“Lila,” she grimaced.

The Italian girl sauntered closer. “Anyone might think you’re not happy to see me,” she said sweetly.

If Marinette’s heart hadn’t jumped when Lila startled her, it certainly constricted as Juleka in her auburn wig swung around the turn in the staircase. Juleka stopped as she caught Marinette’s look of wide-eyed panic, her head tipping in a quick nod of understanding as she took in the girl facing Marinette down, and she retreated silently.

Marinette just had to make sure that Lila didn’t see Juleka coming down the stairs from the costume department. She backed up a step, turning to draw Lila’s attention, and she didn’t have to pretend too hard to be afraid. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets to hide the trembling, and closed her fingers around her phone to still them.

“What do you want, Lila?” she said. She backed up a little further, putting more distance between her and the bathroom door. Lila stalked her, giving a little laugh when Marinette bumped into a wall and was brought up short. She was too close for Marinette’s liking.

“Isn’t it obvious by now? And I thought you were supposed to be so smart.”

“I really don’t understand, what on earth do you think you’re going to get out of this?” Marinette voiced the question that had been at the back of her mind since Lila had started her campaign of intimidation. “You’ve only been in the company for less than a year so you weren’t seriously up for the part that I got, and you’re not even understudying me, so it’s not like you’re going to step into my solo if I’m not there. And getting rid of me isn’t going to make Adrien more interested in you. What do you think is going to happen if you force me out of the way?”

“He’ll change his mind fast enough once he’s not distracted,” Lila said with dismissive conviction. “And once I’ve convinced him I’m the one he wants, then it’s only a matter of time until I’m getting the roles and the promotions as his partner. Watching you suffer is just icing on the cake as far as I’m concerned.

“And yet you hate me enough to risk your whole career just for a bit of petty vengeance on my costume,” Marinette asked a little incredulously. All it would have taken was for one person to check the cameras and Lila could have been facing criminal charges.

“It wasn’t that much of a risk though, was it? You were never going to tell on me. You smile sweetly and pretend to everyone that if you just work hard and wish upon a star all your dreams will come true, but underneath it all, you’ll do anything to get ahead too. I may have ruined the costume, but you knew about it and didn’t say anything to anyone because you didn’t want to get into trouble. So unless you’ve waved your fairy wand and magicked it all better, the shit is going to hit the fan soon when they take out your tutu for the dress rehearsal. I’m going to enjoy watching you try to talk your way out of that one.”

“You don’t think they’ll notice you on the security footage too?” Marinette asked.

“I think they won’t have any evidence which one of us did the damage. It���ll be my word against yours and you’ve made it so easy for me to convince everyone that you’re losing it under pressure these past few weeks.” Lila gave a smug little smirk. “You never said anything when you found out about the tutu. How do you think it’s going to look now if you turn around and start accusing me now?”

Marinette thought about Mme Marchand’s kindness in allowing Marinette glimpses of the new designs, and turning a blind eye to Marinette’s frequent illicit presence in the ateliers, and the way Lila’s sabotage would fall back on the costume designer. She thought of Adrien, the third person on the security footage, and how his father would probably react if that came out. Marinette’s fingers curled tightly around the phone in her pocket.

She said, “Is it worth it?”

Lila stared at her as if she didn’t understand the question.

Before this season, Marinette might have felt the same way. Of course it was worth it. The glittering goal of Danseuse Étoile was worth any price. She would never scheme and sabotage as Lila had done to get what she wanted, but Marinette had worked and driven herself to her limits and sacrificed so much that it made no sense to waste it all now, except… except…

The stupid thing, the really stupid thing, and Lila would never know this, was that all Lila’s machinations were far more likely to make Marinette fight for a life she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore. But, as Luka had pointed out, if Marinette stayed with the company just to spite Lila, then Lila had already won.

“If you spent even half of that time and energy on working on your dancing -”

For one short second, Lila’s sly smugness cracked. “You think you know so much,” she sneered, hard and bitter. “It’s just so easy for you, isn’t it?”

“It really isn’t,” Marinette whispered, taken aback by the look in Lila’s eyes.

Past Lila, Marinette could see Juleka coming out of the bathroom, the tote slung over her shoulder and the red wig gone. Black and purple hair fell over her hazel eyes outlined with black kohl again, and there was no trace of the fashion house lackey left. Marinette let out an imperceptible sigh of relief as Juleka joined them.

Juleka turned a look on Lila, and tilted her head.

“This her?” she asked Marinette. She subjected Lila to a considering stare.

“What –?” Lila was saying indignantly, but Juleka ignored her to mutter to Marinette, “With the right weights, the Seine goes deep enough. No one would ever know.”

“Was that meant to be scary? Did you bring your goth friend here to try and scare me?” Lila’s contempt was scathing. “That’s pathetic. Whatever you think you’re going to achieve here, you and your –“ she swept a glance over Juleka “- friend, I’m not scared. Although you should be.”

The curl of Lila’s smile became secretive and sly, a reminder of glass and gossip.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Marinette said, and she was pleased at how calm her voice sounded. Marinette knew it was silly, but she could feel the space between her shoulder blades prickle as she turned her back to Lila and walked away.

“I still think you’re missing an opportunity here,” Juleka said beside her. “We have a boat, and I’m pretty sure Ma has a bale of chicken wire in there somewhere.”

“What does Anarka need chicken wire for?” Marinette asked, momentarily diverted. Juleka shrugged.

“Don’t know. I think she had some idea of making a giant papier-mâché thing and burning it for the next music festival.”

Marinette’s mouth hung open as she contemplated that.

“I don’t know if I’m more terrified, or inspired,” she said eventually.

Juleka muttered, “Welcome to my world.”

“Just a minute.” Marinette came to a stop, checking behind her to make sure that Lila was out of sight, and drew her phone out of her coat pocket with a hand that she was surprised to notice was still shaking. Juleka raised an eyebrow as Marinette pressed play, and Lila’s voice sounded, a little muffled but perfectly clear and perfectly recognisable. She quickly backed it up to her email, and stuffed her phone in her bag.

“You got all that?” Juleka asked admiringly.

“Most of it.” Marinette let out a breath. “I fumbled a bit when Lila caught up with me, so I missed the first part, but I got all of her telling me how she’d cut up the costume. If she tries anything else, I have the proof to stop her. Now, let’s get you out of here before I have a complete meltdown. I’m not built for a life of crime.”

“Uh-huh,” Juleka said sceptically, but she didn’t argue the point.

~~~~~

Classes and rehearsals ended early for the dress rehearsal, and everyone scattered for an early dinner before the hours of makeup and hair and warming up began. Marinette managed to snatch a few moments and a few more kisses with Luka in a quiet corner before she had to head for the dressing room she shared with the other female soloists.

And there it was, her tutu shining softly in layer upon layer of perfect, frothy blue gauze on its stand behind the long row of old desk-like dressing tables. Marinette let out a sigh of relief, and began to unpack her things.

She lined up four pairs of ballet slippers along the shelf that topped her dressing area, with the ribbons dangling over the edge, and her makeup remover, water and sewing kit on the tiny shelves beside the mirror.

The room grew noisy as more of the soloists arrived, calling out greetings to Marinette and gossiping as they claimed their dressing areas and began to get ready. Marinette sat down and started the laborious process of hair and makeup. She warmed up in the Foyer de la Danse with the music of Act One drifting back from the stage, and then it was time for the final preparations. The dresser helped her into her costume, hooking up the endless row of fastenings in the back and pinning the tiara firmly in place, settling the crystalline blue pendant over Marinette’s smooth dark hair. The dresser moved away to help the next girl.

In the long mirror at the end of the dressing room, Marinette saw herself reflected, her eyes huge in her pale face and stage makeup. She was a jewelled princess, young and proud and willing to take flight if it meant escaping her prison.

The loudspeakers crackled with the call for Act Three starters. It was time to do what she’d trained for since she was old enough to put on her first pair of ballet slippers. Time to go and show Lila, and everyone that she’d dripped doubt and poison into, exactly what Marinette Dupain-Cheng was capable of.

Marinette walked softly through the darkness backstage and smiled serenely at Lila as she passed.

“What do you know?” she said artlessly, and spread her arms, giving a little turn to show her tutu. “I just waved my fairy wand and magicked it all better.”

The girl turned almost the same shade of green as her court costume.

Marinette reached Adrien’s side.

“Are you ready?” she whispered, and he turned, giving a start as he took in her azure tiers of feathered chiffon and gauze that caught the stray gleams of light from the stage. His eyes gravitated to the smooth, unblemished satin and the shimmering beadwork of her bodice.

“You’re staring, Adrien. Eyes up here,” she teased, and he jerked his gaze up to her face, his own face turning fiery red.

“You… I can’t even tell it was damaged. How…?”

She dimpled at him. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Just ahead of them in the wings, the White Cat settled her mask more firmly and Little Red Riding Hood’s Wolf gave a quick spring to loosen up his limbs.

“Seriously, thank you, Adrien,” Marinette whispered. “I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

From the orchestra pit, she heard the fanfare that heralded the fairytale characters.

“That’s our cue.”

Adrien took a breath and stretched out his hand. “After you, Milady.”

And they stepped out into the brilliant lights of a sumptuous, glittering court.

~~~~~

The elation of a perfect performance lasted until Marinette came off stage after they ran the curtain calls. Backstage was alive with noise and congratulations, and dancers clattering back to their dressing rooms, while the stagehands reset the stage. Dark clothed figures hauled set pieces and ropes back into place and shouted down from the gantry overhead as Marinette made her way past.

An arm shot out of the velvety darkness of the wings, yanking Marinette around, and she found herself confronting Lila. She jerked her arm free and shot a frantic glance after the crowd of dancers ahead of her, but no one seemed to have seen what was going on.

“Just because you managed to fix that somehow,” the Italian girl hissed, her hostile eyes raking over Marinette’s costume, “doesn’t mean that you’ve won. I’ve only just started.”

For a moment, Marinette thought the girl was going to lunge at her right there, and she stepped back before she could find out if Lila really intended to do anything to her.

“I got you on record,” she told Lila, watching the Italian girl carefully. “This morning, when you admitted what you did to the tutu, I got it on my phone.”

Lila grew still. “You’re lying.”

“I can send you the sound file if you don’t believe me.” Marinette tilted an eyebrow, her spine stiffening now that the initial shock was wearing off. “I’ve saved it, in case you were thinking of doing anything.”

“You play that to anyone, and you’re admitting that you did something to the costume too,” Lila spat at her.

“Yes, and it’d probably get me kicked out,” Marinette admitted, “but I will gladly hand it over and take the consequences if you hurt me or anyone else ever again. Mutually assured destruction.”

Lila made an abrupt movement towards her.

“Is everything okay?” Adrien’s voice broke in, and Lila’s motion was aborted. Her hands quickly clutched at her chest, her eyes widening, as Adrien came towards them, his gaze shifting uneasily between Lila and Marinette.

“Oh, Adrien!” Lila said a little breathlessly. “I was just telling Marinette how impressed I was by your pas de deux tonight. She’s so lucky to have you as a partner.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Adrien said, his tone polite and only a certain stiffness betraying his scepticism. “Marinette makes it easy.”

Lila’s façade slipped for a fraction of a second, then she pasted her smile back on.

“Some of us are going out for a late supper before we head home. You are coming, aren’t you?” she asked, completely ignoring Marinette, and Adrien’s smile grew stiffer.

“Thanks for the invitation, Lila, but I really have to get home, otherwise I’ll be a wreck for opening night tomorrow.”

“Maybe another time,” Lila called after him as he and Marinette moved away. Adrien stayed close to Marinette, protective and silent, until they were out of earshot.

“What was that all about?” Adrien glanced back at Lila with a frown.

“Lila is a little unhappy that my tutu is intact,” Marinette told him.

“You still think that was her?” he asked, but he didn’t sound disbelieving.

“I know it was. I have her on tape admitting it.”

Adrien’s eyebrows shot sky high. “Then… you have to tell someone!”

“And confess what we did too?” Marinette asked, and Adrien’s face turned pale. “Not unless there’s no other choice.”

They’d reached the door of Marinette’s dressing room, and Adrien closed his mouth on whatever response he’d been about to make as she put her hand on the door.

“It’ll be okay,” she told him with more confidence than she actually felt after the encounter with Lila. “It’s not going to come to that. She won’t try anything while I’ve got that recording. We’ve got opening night tomorrow, and we just need to focus on that.”

Any growing hope that they might have got away with it evaporated when she stepped into the dressing room and found the costume director herself there instead of the dressers who usually oversaw the minor role costumes. Mme Marchand was helping the other soloists out of their delicate tutus and gowns, returning the outfits to their hangers for cleaning and gathering up sweat-soaked undergarments and tights with calm method, and Marinette waited with growing apprehension for her turn.

Marinette was the last. Mme Marchand unhooked her briskly and whisked the costume away with a practised twist as Marinette stepped out of it and reached for her lightweight dressing robe.

“I know about the repairs,” Mme Marchand said coolly, and Marinette felt her heart clutch in panic. She glanced at the other girls, but no one was close enough to hear, and no one seemed to be paying attention anyway. “Was that your work?”

All Marinette could do was nod dumbly.

“I knew there was something odd this morning when that girl turned up with paperwork that I’d already signed and confirmed with M. Agreste. I imagine you had something to do with that stampede, too.”

Marinette stayed silent.

“I couldn’t think what the point of it all was, until I took a closer look at your costume.” Mme Marchand flipped the bodice inside out with a careful hand, showing the almost invisible line of the repair.

“Of course, once I watched the security footage it wasn’t hard to work out who was behind it. Three days ago, there were three people who went into Costume Central who weren’t supposed to be there, and it was your costume that had been mended. I still can’t work out how on earth you and Adrien Agreste managed to take the tutu out without anything showing up,” she mentioned.

“It also wasn’t hard to guess why it needed to be repaired, once I went back a little further and saw Mlle Rossi where she wasn’t supposed to be. I know you, Marinette, and I know what she is like. Although, of course, there is no proof that she actually did anything.”

The silence in the pause grew thick, and Marinette could feel her own heartbeat pulsing furiously.

“There is no proof that any of you did anything,” Mme Marchand added with emphasis. Marinette stared at her. “The costume is where it should be, and I only knew you’d done anything to it because I know every square inch of this garment. As do you, obviously.” She shook out the gown, eyeing it critically. “This is exquisite work. I can’t believe you managed this in three days.”

“Two,” Marinette amended faintly, thinking of the night she and Luka got together, and Mme Marchand looked up in astonishment.

“Two? Two days, in between rehearsals?”

Marinette nodded, and her head felt wobbly.

“Well.” The costume director’s eyes held a new measure of interest. “If you’re ever looking for work in the wardrobe, come and find me.”

She slid the linen cover over it and hung it carefully on the rack of costumes to be cleaned before opening night, leaving Marinette staring after her and trying to grasp that the axe hadn’t fallen.

It was only when Marinette gave a convulsive shiver that she jolted out of her abstraction and realised that she was still standing around in only a thin robe. She untied her worn out pointe shoes and set them aside, her mind lost in the idea that had taken a hold of her at Mme Marchand’s words as she pulled on her street clothes.

Out in the courtyard, Luka took his earphones out and straightened when he saw her. Marinette broke into a run, and threw herself into Luka’s arms.

“Did you get into trouble about this morning?” she asked anxiously as soon as he set her down, and he gave a casual shrug.

“I got a slap on the wrist, and told to never do it again.”

“I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”

His soft smile broadened into a full-blown grin. “I’m not. And Ma will be so proud – she was beginning to worry that I didn’t have anything on my record. I’ll have to apologise to the costume director, but she doesn’t seem that terrifying.”

“No,” Marinette said slowly. “She’s not.”

Luka pulled back a little to look at her properly. “Melody, are you okay?”

“I think… I think she offered me an opportunity tonight.”

“One you want?”

“… yes,” Marinette breathed. “I think so.”

This was starting to feel like the thing that had been missing, in all her unsettling discontent over the past months. She hadn’t felt this sense of rightness about the path she was on in a very long time, and now that the panic was fading, she could feel a growing excitement. Plans began to unfold, and grew in her mind with astonishing speed. “Oh, yes, I want this.”

She pulled Luka down to kiss him in a burst of fervent energy that left him reeling and looking dazed, and then, her forehead leaning against his, she couldn’t help giggling.

“I hate to say it, but I think I owe Lila for this.”

~~~~~

The last night of a production always had a different energy to the first night gala. The company was buzzing with that peculiar rush of exhilaration, melancholy and exhaustion that set in after the last curtain call and after the auditorium had emptied of the rustling dull roar of the audience. Marinette’s parents had seen her performances earlier in the season, and so had Anarka and Juleka, so she didn’t rush through removing her makeup at the line of mirrors in the dressing room she shared with the other female soloists.

“You’re taking forever!” Alya complained from the doorway. “We’re going to leave without you if you’re not quick.”

“You can go on ahead without me,” Marinette suggested. “I’ll get my own way there.”

The company party would last for a few hours, and then whoever was still standing would drift off to spend whatever was left of the night at various clubs and bars and smaller private parties. Marinette was honestly just looking forward to going home and sleeping.

“I don’t think so, girl. If I don’t drag you there myself, you’ll find an excuse to not even go. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since performances started,” Alya added, sounding a little hurt, and Marinette looked past her to where Lila was hovering, sharp-eyed and calculating, in the corridor. There was the reason she’d been avoiding Alya, because everywhere Alya went, Lila was glued to her side. And Marinette was fairly certain that everything she told Alya would get back to the Italian girl.

The one time she’d tentatively hinted at what Lila had done it hadn’t gone well, and Marinette had backed off because, really, she couldn’t produce the proof without opening a whole can of worms. Lila had kept up the campaign of insidious whispers against her, Marinette was fairly certain, but at least she’d stopped the physical attacks, and they’d reached a sort of stand-off.

The dressers had already taken away the costumes, and Marinette stood up in a rustle of skirts.

“Wow.” Alya’s eyes widened as she took in Marinette’s gown. Her eyebrow shot up suggestively. “So who are you all dressed up for tonight? The ballet partner you’re not crushing on anymore, or the musician you’re just friends with?”

“Oh, that dress is just too cute for words,” Lila chimed in, but it sounded like she was spitting glass. “Adrien is going to love it.”

Marinette’s own eyebrow rose at that, but she didn’t respond. There was no way in hell she was going to give Lila more fuel. She picked up her beaded evening bag and came out to join them. She would collect the rest of her things from the dressing room later.

The Foyer de la Danse was filling up with company members as they emerged from the dressing rooms in their celebratory street clothes. The light from the rows of huge chandeliers shone on the polished parquet floor and glittered on the gilded pillars, but Marinette didn’t spare a glance for the splendour around her, or for the painted glory of the vaulted ceilings.

She smiled at Adrien as her blond partner made his way through the crowd towards them.

“Congratulations to my partner in crime and ballet,” she said with a smile, and he leaned in for a hug.

“You were incredible,” Adrien told her, and his palms slid down from her shoulders to take her hands in his. “It’s been wonderful dancing with you, and I think we made a great team. I hope we get a chance to partner again.”

Marinette squeezed his hands gently, and stepped away.

“You were a fantastic partner, Adrien. It’s been an honour to dance with you, but I’m leaving the company.”

“Leaving! But… why? Everyone thought you were amazing on stage, and I know the director loved you. Every ballet dancer dreams of the opportunities you’re going to have in front of you after tonight.”

“This isn’t what I want anymore,” she told him. “The Costume Design Director here has arranged to take me on in the residency program here while I go back to study for a degree in Theatrical Design and Costuming, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve learned a lot dancing in the corps, and I’ve made a lot of contacts, but this is what I want to do with it.”

Adrien was staring at her in complete incomprehension, and she sighed. Very few of her friends in the company would ever understand wanting a life that didn’t happen under the stage lights.

“But… leaving?” he repeated blankly.

“You’re leaving?” Lila’s voice rose dramatically behind her, drawing far more attention than Marinette had wanted, and she heard Alya’s squawk of astonishment from somewhere close by. Marinette turned reluctantly just as the Italian girl threw her arms around her. “Oh no! Marinette, but we’ll miss you so much! The corps just won’t be the same without you.”

Marinette tried to recoil from the embrace, but Lila had a firm grip. The girl clutched her closer.

“I knew you wouldn’t last,” Lila whispered poisonously in her ear. “It’s wise of you to run while you can, before I completely destroy you.”

“Yes, yes, you won,” Marinette said absently. Over Lila’s shoulder, she could see a tall young man in a formal black tailcoat, with a mess of blue and black hair and a violin case, his eyes scanning the chamber. She felt herself light up with a smile as he found her, and she broke Lila’s hold, stepping away from her. “Good luck with that, Lila.”

She patted Lila’s arm as she drifted past the Italian girl, ignoring Lila’s smothered hiss of outrage.

“Wow,” Luka breathed as she drew closer. “When on earth did you find the time to make that?” He gestured at the soft, azure-blue skirts that flared out from the smoothly fitted bodice, and the crystal beads that twinkled like feathers falling through a twilight sky. “Is that based on your Florine gown?”

Marinette beamed at him. “You recognised it!”

She spun around slowly, showing off the dress, and tilted a smile at him over her shoulder.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s beautiful, and that you are beyond incredible, melody,” he said in that husky voice that always did things to her.

She reached up and straightened his white bow tie, letting her hands linger on the lapels of his black tailcoat. The severe cut really did do very fine things to his lean, muscled frame.

“I like your usual look, Couffaine,” she told him, “but I have to admit, you do scrub up nicely.”

“Girl, you’re with Luka?” Alya appeared at her side, almost vibrating with intense curiosity. “And you didn’t tell me?! When did this happen?”

Marinette bit back the response While you were cosying up to the girl who glassed my shoes and wrecked my costume before the words could slip out.

“It just happened,” she said vaguely.

“And you’re leaving the company? You are going to tell me everything,” Alya insisted, and hooked her hand through Marinette’s arm. “All the details!”

Marinette gently disengaged Alya’s hand.

“We just need to drop some things off at my place, and then we’ll catch up with you all at the party,” Marinette said, and Luka bent to press a kiss just behind her ear. “Half an hour.”

“Maybe two,” Luka murmured into her hair, and his voice sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Alya rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not going to make it to the party are you?” she said.

Marinette could feel the blush rise in her cheeks, and the soft rumble of Luka’s laugh. “I will call you tomorrow,” she promised Alya.

Marinette circulated through the crowd, saying her goodbyes, and Madame stopped her to offer austere praise on a role well executed. There were kisses and congratulations, and Marinette moved from person to person until she arrived back at Luka. She took his hand, and took one more look around the Foyer de la Danse in all its gilded splendour, then the world narrowed down to the warm, callused fingers that closed around hers, and the warmer smile of the man that she loved.

“Are you ready to go?” Luka asked her gently.

Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her, and she heard the faint catch of his breath as her own smile widened, full of promise.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”