#// especially with my new muses I just get kind of nervous introducing them to people

[strxngertogether]

// I'm prob gonna take a few more days off and try to chill out and also work on adding some new muses I've been writing on discord to my muse page, but then I'm gonna try to get on and see if I can get some new threads and stuff going!

[froggysoup]

wowee

Alrighty I’m just gonna ramble on about my thoughts on the new quest (and things in general because I talk too much) and pray that at least some of it ends up coherent. Spoilers, by the way.

I’ve had this first theory since the last archon quest but got nervous and didn’t share, so here it is now. Maybe it’s an obvious thing that I’m just in the dark about, but I’m fairly sure that Dainsleif’s “Boughkeeper” title has a large part in explaining why he knows so much about things he really shouldn’t. From the newest quest, we learn that he is actually cursed with immortality, which could explain some it, but the guy still knows too much for it to simply be chalked up to his age. He’s literally the designated narrator for half of the official videos and knows a lot about what and who he talks about.

I suspect that the ley lines serve as an information network of some sort, and that Dainsleif’s position as Boughkeeper allows him access to it in one way or another. The only other places we really see the whole tree/branch thing is with the ley line branches, Irminsul trees, the Frostbearing Tree, and the tree who once had roots that spanned the whole continent (which we know the ley line branches were once directly a part of), all of which are connected in a way that I haven’t quite figured out yet. 

Now, from those screens that come up while the game is loading, we know that supposedly, the intertwined roots of the Irminsul trees far beneath the earth determine the pattern of the ley lines above, and we also know that ley lines are a “mysterious network that links the whole world together” and that they are said to remember everything that happens in the world. From this, I don’t think it’d be that much of a reach to say that Dainsleif can access that somehow.

Next. I do think there’s a pretty good chance that the Archons were involved in the destruction of Khaenri’ah. The Viridescent Venerer set actually tells us how the former Dendro Archon died during the cataclysm while in Khaenri’ah, which. Uh. That’s kind of really incriminating. 

However! Obviously, we’ve only heard this from Dainsleif’s point of view and he’s pretty biased considering his whole thing. We don’t know how much control Celestia has over the Archons’ actions, either, and I’m about 98% sure that some of them weren’t into it, and likely didn't even have a choice. Like, look at the Tsaritsa. Her whole thing is that sometime during the cataclysm, she witnessed something so view-shattering and unjust that her whole thing now is to “burn away the old world” and overthrow Celestia. 

I also can’t see Venti and Zhongli going along with the destruction of an entire nation with no hesitation. Like, obviously, again, Dainsleif is going to be biased, but from what we’ve been told Khaenri’ah didn’t even do anything divine-retribution-worthy. Celestia just seems be into dropping skyscraper-sized pillars and other things onto nations who get too good at being independent, for whatever reason. The new quest is definitely supposed to make us question the current systems of this world but I don’t think we’re meant to hate Venti or Zhongli, at least yet. I think they’re even kind of meant to be seen as the “best” out of the Archons, so to speak. (Not that I think they’re perfect, by any means.)

Like, just look at the way they’ve been presented to us, versus how some of the other Archons have been introduced (Storyline Trailer, my beloved). 

Raiden Shogun is made out to be some self-absorbed divine ass-kisser who doesn’t have humanity’s best interests at heart (which we know is supposed to be a thing you do as an Archon). She’s doing her whole confiscating visions and oppressive rule thing in an effort to be seen as more divine, but, as Dainsleif puts it, “what do mortals see of the eternity chased after by their god?”

The Dendro Archon/God of Wisdom is implied to not actually be as smart as somebody with that title is supposed to be, one way or another, and either has turned a blind eye to or blatantly encourages the “push for folly” in Sumeru. Can’t tell exactly what that would mean or entail (thanks, Dainsleif), but obviously. Doesn’t sound good.

Dainsleif says of the Hydro Archon that she “lives for the spectacle of the courtroom, seeking to judge all other gods. But even she knows not to make an enemy of the divine.” While the not making an enemy of the divine thing I get (I guess, coward), the whole “seeking to judge all other gods” bit seems very “remove the log from your own eye”-y. Like, you’re an Archon, too, what are you trying to prove here?

The Tsaritsa is- well, the Tsaritsa, as we know. While I do think we are meant to sympathize and agree with at least part of her core ideals and motives, she still is the one behind the Fatui and is, by extension, a war criminal. She also apparently has “no love left for her people”. It’s a bit of a complicated relationship that we have with her.

The only ones who Dainsleif does not directly slander in the trailer are Venti, Zhongli, and Murata. While I don’t think we have enough on her to come to any conclusions about her character yet, Venti does say of her that she is a “wayward, war-mongering wretch”. Now, he does also jab at Rex Lapis during this voiceline, but unlike with Murata we know that those two are buddy-buddy and it was very likely that it was “buffoon (affectionate)”.

Venti and Zhongli are also the first two Archons we encounter, which is important for multiple reasons.

Gonna derail for a bit because I don’t know where to start. But. The game very likely will (or at least should) end with no Archons.

Obviously, especially in light of the new quest (although this stuff has been floating around since the Dragonspine update and even before that), Celestia Bad. Like, cataclysmically bad (lmao). In fact, I’m highly certain that you could trace basically every problem in this game back to them, some way or another.

Even our main “villain” groups all seem to be gunning for Celestia. The Fatui obviously work for the Tsaritsa, who’s made it very clear that she plans to rebel against the divine. The Abyss Order, too, has their Deeply Upsetting plan of creating a mechanized god with the power to “topple the divine thrones of Celestia”.

Evidence points to an overthrow of Celestia at some point in the game, and considering how being an Archon or even a god is directly tied to Celestia, yeah. No more Celestia means no more Archons.

But even besides that, there’s a lot there to suggest that that’s where things are going.

I find it interesting how Mondstadt’s our prologue chapter, or that there’s even a prologue chapter of the game at all. Prologues are meant to set up ideas that will be present throughout the rest of the story, and Mondstadt does exactly that. Venti’s let the people of Mondstadt govern themselves and has almost completely been out of the equation for millennia, even if that means he is significantly weaker than his godly peers. When asked why he chose to do that instead of remain in charge and just give them freedom, Venti responds that “freedom, if demanded of you by an archon, is really no freedom at all.” This sentiment is also brought up in the Mondstadt portion of the storyline trailer, and the traveler even has a whole voiceline debating what Venti really meant when he said that.

This idea of freedom and that humanity is capable on its own is further reinforced in Chapter 1, in which Liyue learns to move on from the death of its Archon. Zhongli set up his plan with the intention of testing if his people could stand on their own legs without him there to guide them, and they do. He even expresses how pleasantly surprised he is that the Qixing were able to take advantage of the situation and seize control like they did. Keqing gives us this whole speech when we first meet her about how the adepti and gods underestimate humanity’s capability and how Liyue’s future is meant to be a godless one. This, in a way, extends to the rest of the continent as well.

In the storyline trailer (which I quote too often, I’m sorry. My favorite and only party trick is that I got bored one day and memorized the whole thing), Dainsleif spends the entire Khaenri’ah section musing about something similar. 

“In the perpetual meantime of a sheltered eternity, most are content to live and not to dream. But in the hidden corner where the gods’ gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming,” is obviously about the people of Teyvat vs. those in Khaenri’ah. While a future under the care of the Archons is a safe and reliable one, is it one that allows humanity to chase its potential to the fullest? Khaenri’ah was destroyed for flourishing like it did without gods, both as a punishment and a warning to everybody else.

“Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity.” This is in reference to visions. Throughout the game, this idea that, at least in the eyes of the gods, vision holders are more important than those without them, is constantly brought up.

In the commission “Leaves on the Wind”, Dr. Edith expresses how it often seems as if vision holders are the main characters of this world. From the notebooks we receive during the “Time and Wind” world quest, we learn that the Sumeru Academia actually discourages non-vision holders from conducting outdoor surveys, and how “these days... trying to be an academic when you don't have a Vision, it's really restricting...” Dainsleif even just straight up asks us what we think the gods think of vision holders and people in general during question time in that one quest.

In Lisa’s stories, we learn that the reason for her laziness is that a part of her is afraid of learning or doing too much, after witnessing what “uninhibited erudition” can do to people during her time in Sumeru. She also senses that something beneath the surface is happening regarding the distribution of visions. “For whatever reasons, the gods gave humans the key to changing everything, but they did not explain the cost involved. Lisa grew fearful of the truth.”

I forgot exactly where I was going with that last paragraph, but yeah. There’s definitely sketchy shit going on behind the scenes in regards to visions, possibly to keep people either quiet or complacent. I suspect it may even be to restrict access to certain knowledges or even the elements themselves. Anyways.

I lose track of my thoughts too often. Fuck. Right. Mondstadt and Liyue served as good examples of society under the rule of the Archons, and in Chapter 2 we will encounter our first bad example, showing us the pros and cons of the current situation. However, despite Zhongli and Venti seeming to genuinely care for their people, humanity’s wellbeing shouldn’t be reliant on how their god is feeling that day, and they shouldn’t have to look to the gods for a chance to become something greater than themselves, either.

Um. All that’s to say I’m just very excited to see where the story will go, and if Zhongli’s contract with the Tsaritsa is any indication then it’s gonna go somewhere good. Celestia bad, Archons bad but also not bad but also bad, I don’t know if what I just wrote actually even counts as understandable, thank you and good night.

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 5

Chapter 1    Chapter 4

Marinette laid on Nino’s living room floor studying the stolen Grimoire files on her tablet.  She had been staring at the same page for the last two hours, making little progress.  Just because she could translate the ancient text, it didn’t mean it was easy or quick.  In fact, it was headache inducing and with Adrien focusing on keeping them caught up on homework while she and Chloe were otherwise occupied, she was translating alone.  She knew there were amazing secrets held in the texts, the drawings promised amazing new powers for each of the miraculous, she just needed to decode them.  

She scrunched her eyes closed and rubbed them to clear her vision that had started crossing.  Now, she decided, was a perfect time to take a break.  She looked around the room for a distraction. Adrien was near her on the floor, leaning against the couch and working on the physics assignment they had received that day, having already finished the calculus assignment.  Alya, having already passed her research onto Chloe, was on the couch working on the French Lit homework. Nino was sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on Alya’s lap, not working on anything, staring off into space with a furrowed brow instead.  

Everyone was working quietly except for Chloe who was making her discontent with her surroundings abundantly clear through her frequent huffs and exaggerated movements.  She was sitting in a chair making notes in a notebook referencing her laptop occasionally.  She huffed and wiggled uncomfortably in the chair, “Tell me again why we have to do this here?” Chloe demanded, not bothering to mask her disgust with the middle class surroundings.

“We can’t meet in the hotel because we can’t take the chance the Waynes would see Marinette walking in the lobby or the hallway. We can’t meet at Adrien’s place because Asshole Dad.  We can’t meet at Marinette’s in case they’ve made her already.  That leaves my place or here and my place has the twins who are currently both grounded and bored so… that leaves here.” Alya explained calmly, not bothering to look up from her homework.

“Yeah, yeah, but couldn’t we have met at like a nice café or pub?” Chloe whined, rubbing her arms as though contact with the chair fabric were scratching her.

“And take the texts outside?” Adrien asked with a raised brow motioning toward Marinette.

“Plus until we know how much they know, it is probably best I’m not seen out more than absolutely necessary, hence the…” she indicated the oversized hoodie she had stolen from Kim some time ago she had been wearing all day, mostly with her hood up, completely enveloping her head.

“I thought that was so you could hide from Laurence…” Alya said with a sly grin.

“Or Noelle,” Adrien threw in.

“Or Ignace…” Chloe added, keeping her focus on her laptop.

“Okay stop.  Really, Chloe?  Wouldn’t you much rather talk about the throngs of people throwing themselves at you?” Marinette attempted to divert her to one of her favorite topics, herself.

“Oh sweetie, we don’t have that kind of time.” Chloe said throwing her ponytail over her shoulder.  “We’re just talking about the ten or twenty we know about willing to let you tie them up and beat them like a piñata then thank you for the privilege.”

“That sounds like a regular Saturday night for you, Chlo,” Alya grinned.

“I…I don’t know how to react to that.” Marinette scrunched her face in confusion.  “My first inclination is to say she’s exaggerating, but it’s Chloe and if anything she would underplay it.  Plus I am extremely not happy with that little insight into Chloe’s bedroom, so… I’m going to ignore this entire conversation.” Marinette said turning back to her tablet.

Adrien looked up from his notes for a few moments staring in thought at nothing, “Valid,” he nodded, turning back to his work as well.

Nino had stayed silent throughout the conversation staring instead unfocused at a spot on the floor for the past few minutes. Adrien glanced back at him with curiosity.  “Hey,” he smacked his hand into Nino’s leg, “you okay there?  You completely missed us teasing Marinette about her fans. That’s one of your favorite topics.”

“Ahhh, Laurence… yeah, that dude makes me nervous. Michel is cute though.  I could see that.” Marinette gave an affronted squawk. Nino continued without acknowledging her, “No, I was just thinking… we know Batman’s secret identity.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said uncertainly.

“And he doesn’t know ours.” Nino continued.

��Right,” Adrien encouraged still not sure where the conversation was going.

“And we have you and Chloe, both pretty famous and could easily end up at a party or event with at least one of them…” Nino mused thinking out loud.

“True.”

“So… how much can we mess with him about it without getting killed?” Nino asked raising his brow with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Dude!” Adrien exclaimed excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“You want us to prank the Dark Knight?” Alya looked at him like he was crazy.

“Really?” Marinette deadpanned.

“Yeah, you’re right.  It is potentially fraught with danger.  We might need to bring Alix and Max in on this.” Nino nodded still thinking about how he could manage it.

Alya dropped her head into her hands, “Idiot.” She muttered shaking her head in her hands, not entirely sure if he was joking or not.  Honestly, either option was possible.

“Well, that makes you two perfect for each other,” Chloe deadpanned still focused on writing something down in her notebook missing the withering look Alya shot her.

“Okay Kim,” Marinette rolled her eyes at Nino.  She looked uncertain for a moment then pushed herself back until she was sitting on her heels and spoke hesitantly, “Or… we could discuss if we are still certain we don’t want the Batfamily here.  Are we sure we don’t want their help?”

“Yes, yes we are,” Alya replied, her voice bordering on disbelief that Marinette would even ask.  “We know what the Justice League is like.  We know what they’ve done and we have a damn good idea what they could do given half the chance.  We gave in on Constantine and look what happened.  We cannot trust them.”

“Think about the last few weeks, Marinette.  Think how much worse they would have been if those people had powers to begin with and understood the extent of their powers, how to push them, how to exploit them.  What to ask for from Hawkmoth to do the most damage?” Nino added.

“The bats don’t have superpowers.” Marinette defended.

“But they work with people who do.  They have strategized attack plans around people who have powers. They understand them and what’s most effective…” Chloe added barely looking up from her notepad.

“And they are incredibly well trained in combat and strategic planning… It would be hard enough without them having super powers. With them, we would be fucked.” Adrien added cutting in on Chloe’s statement.

“We are barely keeping up as it is.  If one of the bats of Justice League were to get akumatized…” Nino let the statement trail off, allowing everyone to use their imagination to fill in the rest.

“Exactly!  We are barely keeping up.  Do we need to consider getting help?  From someone with more experience and different skills?  From someone with experience using superpowers against an opponent?” Marinette ran a hand over her face, “I’m just… I’m getting scared. And I don’t know if that is because I’m seeing a pattern or if I’m just frustrated with where we are and desperate for any change.  And the more distance I have from it, the more I wonder if Constantine was right.  Is it time to bring someone in, but we’re just too scared to try something different?”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a banal, obvious statement,” she glared at Adrien, “they have a good understanding of powers, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to strategize around them, which would make them powerful akumas, or incredibly advantageous assets against an akuma.”  Everyone stared at her in surprise.  “Stunned looks terrible on you.” She said making clear she was directing it to all of them.  “The silent awe of me is appropriate though.” She said sitting back in her chair only to immediately grunt and start squirming against the fabric again.

“It isn’t just the powers, I don’t trust them, especially Batman.  If we give them half the chance, I’m afraid they will try to take the miraculous because they think they could wield them and protect them better.” Adrien admitted.  

The group took a second to let both sides of the argument sink in, unsure how to move forward.  Both outcomes could lead to horrific outcomes that nobody wanted to allow. They were all afraid and they knew they were, but like Marinette, they didn’t know if the fear was holding them back from making a mistake or from having a breakthrough.

After a few moments of quiet, Nino broke the quiet in a soothing voice, “We have no way to know which way things will tilt.  Let’s see what we get from the files and reassess then. No reason to introduce more chaos until we know what we have to work with already.  Have you found anything yet?”

“A bit.  Ugh,” she said accepting the change of topic and looking at her notebook with disgust, “this would be so much easier if the kwamis could just tell us all the possible uses of the miraculous were and the ways they could be combined.”

“Yeah, but then Hawkmoth would have known too… and Mayura and Argus.” Tikki pointed out.

“That’s a horrifying thought.  I don’t think we could have taken Hawkmoth and Mayura when we started if they had known all their options.” Adrien shuttered thinking about it.

“That’s why they created the rule that kwami could only tell the very basic powers and responsibilities.  Anything more than that can only come from the Order, so if anyone stole a miraculous, they wouldn’t be able to effectively wield it, making it easier for trained wielders to get it back.”  Trixx said.

“A bit more effective back when there was an Order and masters who actually trained wielders, but you know, times change,” Plagg shrugged with a thinly disguised disgust.

“Okay but let me just say not having known this,” Marinette turned the tablet around for them to see the image of the dragon miraculous she had been studying, “was an option is extremely upsetting.”

“Dibs!” Nino called out, jumping up from the couch before anyone else could call it.

“Fuck you, I saw it first.  I’ve got dibs.  I’ve got plans for it.”  Marinette blew him off.

“No way, you’re going to see all of them first.” Nino pouted.

Marinette grinned at him, “Guardian” she singsonged.  

Trixx floated up closer to the tablet.  “Oh that one.  Yeah, everyone likes that one.  It’s actually just a variation of the power you know already so it is a lot easier to pick up than it looks.”

Plagg floated next to her to check it out too.  “If you like that one, just wait until you find out about…” his sentence was cut off by an overflow of green bubbles falling out of his mouth, causing him to glare at nothing and everything at the same time.

“Okay enough of that.  My turn.” Chloe announced turning her laptop to display pictures of each of the Waynes and their alter egos.

Adrien leaned forward to get a closer look at the images and suddenly his eyes got huge and he gasped, “Oh my God… in the name of all that is holy and good in this world, please tell me the one in the godawful, Red Skull wannabe mask is the one you were making heart eyes at all night.  Please, please, please…” Adrien begged Marinette.

Marinette refused to meet his eyes and pursed her lips, focusing intently on the laptop.  “No comment.”

“It is him! Can I please, please be there when you ‘discuss’ that mask with him before we kick him out?” Adrien said shaking with delight at the thought of it.

Marinette glared at him, “We are going to be focusing on getting them out of Paris without drawing further curiosity or ire, not their wardrobe.” She pointed out turning to Chloe with an expectant look trying to prompt her to continue but couldn’t stop herself from whipping back toward Adrien, “And, I don’t even know if he was even interested in me at all.  It’s far more likely they are concerned about the situation than he is about getting a date.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, “You’re not that stupid, Dupain-Cheng. The honeypotting wouldn’t have worked if he wasn’t interested.”

“I did NOT honeypot him…. And I still don’t know what that means!” Marinette yelled exasperated.

“Yeah, yeah.  But I get to be there right?” Adrien implored ignoring her annoyance and still not giving her a definition.  At this point, it was a matter of pride… or comedy.  Either way, he was dedicated to never telling her what it meant.

“Oooooo and me too,” Alya jumped in.

“You should just leave your com on so we can all hear.” Chloe commented with feigned disinterest.

“We should put it on speaker.  The kwamis will want to hear it too.” Nino agreed with a grin.

“I hate all of you,” Marinette grumbled crossing her arms in front of her as she pouted.

Adrien chuckled at her before putting her out of her misery, “Okay, Chlo.  What did you figure out?”

“So, I focused on Bruce Wayne, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.  I couldn’t get an identity on Spoiler and there is no public information on Cassandra Cain, who is probably Batgirl, so I could only look at her vigilante work.  But if Constantine is right, they are both still in Shanghai.  It is unlikely they would have brought them in just to talk with us.  So for tonight, they don’t matter.”  Chloe explained before continuing with her analysis.

“The rest of the Wayne family are a treasure trove of insecurities, pressure points, and triggers.  I’m just going to go over the biggest ones since we hopefully will only have to deal with them for a few minutes at the most.  These unstable assholes are definitely Hawkmoth’s wet dream. Extremely well trained and no control over their emotions.  All have extreme versions of insecurity complexes, but react differently.

“Bruce Thomas Wayne is a control freak.  His public persona isn’t much help.  As far as I can tell, most of it is a mask.  He pretends to be a drunk, irresponsible, billionaire playboy but we know he’s Batman so all that is bullshit.  What isn’t is that he is a good negotiator and actor, all of which means he can be a good manipulator and we know from his experience as Batman that he is extremely strategic.  Be suspect of anything he tells you.  His intentions appear to stem from a genuine concern with making lives better, but how much he is willing to listen to other people’s opinion of what constitutes better is questionable, especially after what we know of the Justice League’s actions. He has a history of enforcing his vision onto other people, whether they want it or not, of taking control.  He needs to be in control, or feel like he is so he can prepare for what is coming and make sure it doesn’t turn against him.

“The oldest, Richard John Grayson, has a martyr complex.  He’s so devoted to the saving people thing he became a cop in his civilian life as well, by all accounts an uncorrupt one, and that’s saying something in Gotham and Blüdhaven.  Takes on too much at one time trying to fix everything and feels responsible for every bad thing that happens, even if he wasn’t there… especially if he wasn’t there, to stop it.  If he only would have done whatever, then the bad thing wouldn’t have happened.  If only he was better, blah, blah, blah. Sound familiar?” she looks pointedly at Marinette.  “That’s his weakest spot.  He takes the blame.

“The next, Jason Peter Todd has abandonment issues.  He’s constantly waiting for people to walk away from him like his parents did.  There is something more there, I know there is, like whatever happened when he disappeared for a few years, but we don’t have access to that information. Ridiculously protective of kids on the street, I think because he essentially grew up on them himself. But, here’s the catch, he became a crime lord in order to protect them.  He is willing to go dark to protect people, so they never have to feel like he did and never have to do what he had to do.  He’s straightforward and aggressive.  He feels like everyone is going to walk away from him because he isn’t enough for them to stay.  He’s dangerous.

“The next, Timothy Jackson Drake has inadequacy issues. Wealthy, absentee parents who likely never treated him like anything more than a business asset.” She looked sympathetically at Adrien.  “He is a certified genius.  Started running Wayne Enterprises a few years ago.  He likes a challenge and is an incredible negotiator.  He likes working things out on his own.  He’s smart and curious.  He knows exactly what to ask in order to get the information he needs without you even knowing that’s what he did.  Be careful answering any questions or reacting to any statements from him.  He is constantly trying to prove himself so people will love him.  He takes any failure extremely personally because it means he doesn’t deserve love and a reminder that he isn’t who he thought he was and therefore not worthy.

“The youngest, Damian Wayne, known as the Ice Prince in Gotham, has a superiority complex.  Nobody gets close to him and nobody wants to.  He showed up in Gotham at age 10 with a fully-fledged attitude.  Everyone and everything is beneath him.  He also drives himself to extremes in order to confirm his superiority.  He insults and belittles others because he believes he should be superior to everyone around him, but he is afraid he isn’t and if he isn’t better, then he is significantly worse.”

The rest of the room looked at her sympathetically.  They all knew she wasn’t just talking about Damian. That was her up until a few years ago. She needed to believe she was better than everyone else and needed everyone around her to believe it too.  If she was better then she deserved her parents’ love.  If she had everyone else’s love, it made it easier to fool herself into believing her parents loved her as well, or blunt the feeling when she would realize just how much they didn’t.  But years of therapy, a higher purpose, and real friends that truly wanted the best for her but refused to take any shit from her, made her realize she didn’t need to be that person to deserve love.

“Also keep in mind there are likely significant trust issues going on here.” Chloe continued ignoring the looks from the rest of the room.  “There are a lot of reports of violence between Red Hood and Red Robin, Red Hood and Robin, Red Hood and… everyone actually, as well as Robin and Red Robin.  Based on fact that violence is higher immediately after a changing of the guard, I’d say the passing of the mantle from one Robin to another has never been consensual and likely contributed to their complexes.  They are held together by the thinnest of threads.  We can snap that if we need to… but I don’t think we want to go that far.  If we snap that… I don’t know how much damage that will do or if they will come back from it.” She cautioned hesitantly.

“Agreed.  I don’t want to go there.  There is plenty to use without going into the family issues, without causing irreparable damage.” Marinette concurred.  They didn’t want the Bat family in Paris but they didn’t want to destroy them either. She wasn’t willing to let herself or her team become monsters in order to stop them.  At the end of the day, they were ultimately all on the same team, they all wanted the same outcome, they just had different ways they wanted to get there… and different ideas about who got to decide that… and who should lead it…

“God these people need a hug not whatever that ‘family’ of theirs is providing each other.” Nino said aghast at the report.

“Marinette’s already on top of that, at least for one of them…” Alya smirked.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her.

“I’m on top of that one,” Nino grinned, raising his hand.

“Oh God.  Seriously we need to investigate that brain bleach thing,” Marinette groaned squeezing her eyes shut trying to keep that image from appearing.

“Okay,” Adrien announced over everyone, “we all agree after this whole Hawkmoth thing is over, I get to kick Constantine’s ass and we all portal over to the Batcave and hug the insecure, unfairly cute, prickly, little echidnas until they feel better, right?” Adrien asked solemnly.

“Ugh, fine but I’m not hugging the gremlin.  Someone else gets that one,” Chloe called out throwing out her arms.

The room stilled as everyone else looked at each other, “Not it!” they all called at almost the exact same moment.

“Damn it,” Nino cried as he realized he had been a few seconds slower than everyone else.

“That’s what you get for being a turtle.  When the confrontation happens, I got the pampered rich kid.”  Chloe announced.  This was her area.  She knew just where to push kids like that, like her.  She knew exactly what to say to get them, her, to hit them at their most vulnerable.  To push just enough to make an impact without breaking them.

“No, Chloe.  We don’t want to tip our hand and we need you guys to stand sentry.  I want you, Alya, and Nino to hang back acting as scouts. This is likely to go bad and I need you guys in a triangular formation a block out watching for akumas.  Adrien and I will talk to them.”

“Alone?” Nino asked tentatively.  His job was to protect.  He didn’t like the idea of not being close enough to act if they should need it.

“They aren’t going to attack us, at least not physically.  And we will take an extra miraculous each.” Marinette smiled gently to placate him.

“Are you sure two is enough, m’lady?” Adrien asked curiously.

“You sure you aren’t just trying to keep it a bit more intimate for you and your boy?” Alya waggled her eyebrows.

Marinette glared at her, “Two should be enough.” She said ignoring the previous statement, “Combined with your two, we should be able to cover what we need to. It’s just the Batfamily.  We should be able to handle them with just one each even if they wanted to attack us.” She grinned at Adrien.  “Magic, gotta love it.”  

“Okay but when he calls you incompetent, which he will, you need to push back.  Point out the ways he’s failed.  He isn’t better than us, no matter what he thinks and the sooner you make him realize that, the sooner the real conversation can start.” Chloe warned.

“He is all of, what, 13?  We are not going to try to emotionally damage a child.” Nino stated flatly.

“As long as he thinks he is better than us, he won’t take us seriously.” Chloe warned.  Nino just glared back at her, not willing to give in on this.  “Fine, if you don’t want to point out his failings, then point out the most impressive things we’ve done that they haven’t.  That should suffice.  Not as effective, but it should get you there.”

“Okay, if we’re going to start discussing strategy, we’re going to need some sustenance.  Let’s get dinner ready so we can start discussing the plan for tonight,” Alya said throwing Nino’s legs off her lap.  Marinette and Nino followed her to the kitchen leaving Chloe and Adrien behind.

“You know, I noticed something with your analysis, Chloe,” Adrien started quietly keeping his eyes on their friends.

“I would hope you noticed more than just one thing,” Chloe chided him.

“Cute,” he said rolling his eyes, “Jason was the only one you said was dangerous, why is that?  

“I thought it was obvious?  The others have a limit.  I don’t know that he does.  And Marinette likes him, a lot.  He has a power to hurt her that the others don’t.  And they are very different.  They are both willing to go as far as necessary to help others, but to her that means killing herself, to him that means killing everyone else and himself,” She looked at him uncertainly, “and I’m not sure how she will react to that.”

“You think he would do that if we let him stay here?”

“I don’t know enough about him to predict what he will do.  He dialed it back to work with the bats again but… There really isn’t that much on him. I can tell you what Red Hood has done and that is bad, but not Jason Todd.  Since he disappeared, presumed dead, hell maybe he was, who knows what happens in Gotham, there is nothing on Jason Todd.  If you want me to try to predict, you can hop on down to Africa and see if you can borrow the kwami of prediction.  Until then, it’s all guesswork.  I need to see him.  See how he acts before I could even try.”

He stared at her for a few seconds a look of utter confusion on his face, “You think the kwami of prediction is in Africa?”

“Do you ever hear any miraculous related shit doing down in Africa?” she fixed him with a knowing stare.

“No,” he said cautiously

“Exactly, because they know what’s coming and they do their fucking jobs.” She winked at him and walked away.

<><><><><> 

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Damian sat in the living area of Bruce’s hotel room in various states of suited up for the night.  They had barely had time to throw their bags in their rooms before meeting up to prepare for the night.  Damian was completely dressed and ready to go on a moment’s notice, as always more than ready to focus on business.  Bruce and Tim were in everything but their masks, choosing comfort until they had to leave.  Jason was sitting in a large chair in just his pants and shirt, attempting to look relaxed and nonchalant about them being so close to the girl he met at the gala. They were all staring at a massive screen linking them to Dick, Alfred, and Selina in the Batcave.  

“So, how’s Paris, boys?” Selina asked from her position lounging in one of the chairs.  “Meet any interesting people yet?  Jason?”  She added with a smirk.

“You know Bruce, all work and no play.  We haven’t gotten a chance to get out and meet anyone.  Doing this instead.” Jason shrugged with a practiced indifference, forcing himself to recline further back into the chair in an effort to seem casual.  

“Haven’t even gotten to see the Eiffel Tower yet?” She asked in mock sympathy.

“Oh, no, we saw it… from the plane.” Jason played along.

“You really should make sure to visit the Eiffel Tower while there, Master Bruce.”  Alfred threw in trying to downplay his amused smile.

“It’s not as impressive as you think it will be,” Tim muttered to nobody in particular.

“We’re here for a reason, Jason.  If we don’t want to lose today, we need to get started immediately…”  Bruce admonished him but upon looking up and seeing Alfred’s unimpressed look added, “We can get lunch near the Eiffel Tower tomorrow.  Better?” He looked to Alfred who switched to small smile instead.  Taking that as approval, Bruce nodded to Tim indicating they were ready for him to start his presentation.

Tim nodded to Bruce and moved to the front of the group and pulled up an image from the Ladyblog displaying five superheroes and their names on half of the screen.  “I’ve found a few local resources on the heroes we couldn’t see back home and have downloaded their contents and sent them back to you guys,” he said nodding toward the half of the screen displaying the cave, “so you can look through the information as well.  I’m not sure what is preventing the data from being accessible from America, but I suspect magic.” He glared at the screen like it personally offended him, “I hate magic.

“I’ve only had about 30 minutes to prepare so this is going to be brief.  I mainly focused on… well actually I mainly focused on figuring out the best resources for information, downloading copies of the site content, and sending a copy back to the batcomputer.  But after that, I mainly focused on figuring out who the heroes are so we know who we might run into and who to look for tonight.  

“The available information indicates a villain named Hawkmoth appeared in Paris roughly five years ago…”

“Huh. Where have I heard that before?” Jason muttered from his seat.

“… and the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared at the same time.” Tim continued a bit louder this time.  “There appear to be five regular heroes and a few heroes that appear from time to time. Here are images of the heroes we know about,” he nodded to the image on the screen.  He switched briefly to another image displaying the lesser known heroes before returning to the image of the main five heroes.  “Not every battle is caught on camera and of the battles that are caught, most of the actual fighting is not caught, making it easy to miss heroes and villains in the fight.  The resources make it clear there likely are more heroes that we don’t know about, which I would say is a definite since your girlfriend didn’t appear on any of the sites.” He nodded toward Jason who just huffed and crossed his arms in response, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“The primary heroes are Ladybug and Chat Noir, with Ladybug as the leader.  Those are the two we need to convince if we want any information.  We know a few identities of past heroes, including a girl who lives in this hotel, Chloe Bourgeois.  She was a bee themed heroine named Queen Bee.  Since then another bee themed heroine has appeared and is one of the 5 regulars.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at the screen, “It looks like the same person.  Could it be her in a different costume?”

“I don’t think so,” Tim answered shaking his head, “When I was looking at her page on the sites I think I saw that she has been seen at the same time as the new bee hero.  I can analyze it more when I get more time, but the local experts don’t appear to think they are.  We don’t know the identity of the new bee.”

“You think they look similar?” Dick asked incredulously.  “You’re crazy.  Their costume, hair color, eye color, height, everything is different.”  Jason looked between Dick and the image of the two bee wielders a few times.  One of them was crazy, he just wasn’t sure which one of them it was.

“Figure out where she lives then you should arrange to run into her tomorrow.” Bruce said nodding toward Tim.

Tim gave a single nod to Bruce accepting the assignment.  “There seems to have been a massive overhaul of heroes about a year into the fight.  All of the heroes except Ladybug and Chat Noir were replaced with new heroes.  No explanation was given… or maybe there is one I just haven’t found it yet.”

Damian scoffed, “There’s one villain and five or more heroes and they haven’t been able to take him down?  Pathetic. These are the people entrusted with objects capable to destroying the world?”

“I haven’t been able to get much information yet so we don’t know exactly what is going on but it looks like there is more than just Hawkmoth.  He might be a leader or mastermind behind the villains.  I’ve seen at least a few other villain names mentioned when looking up the heroes.”

“Do we think they all have a miraculous as well?” Dick asked.

“Not sure.  I haven’t gotten that far yet, but it stands to reason.” Tim nodded absentmindedly.

Jason moved closer to the screen staring intently at the pictures of Ladybug from different years.  There was something familiar about her but there was something else sitting on the edge of his consciousness, he just needed to figure out what his subconscious was trying to tell him.  His eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes trying to block out anything but the images.  His eyes widened as the realization suddenly hit him, “Mother fucker!”  He whipped around to Tim, “Do we have any indication of how old these heroes are?  They look like babies in those older pictures.”

Tim shrugged, “Haven’t gotten that far yet so, not sure.  But I glanced at a section on Ladybug and Chat Noir throughout history so at least for them, somewhere between 5 and 5000.  I should have a better idea tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to read a bit more.”  He squinted at the pictures, “You think they look young?”

“You don’t?” Jason asked incredulously.

Damian examined the images a bit harder as well.  “They do seem around my age in the first images.”

“Really?  I’m with Tim, I can’t tell either.  I can’t get a good feel for age when I look at the pictures.” Dick’s voice came over the speaker.  “That’s strange.  Their faces are at least partially exposed.  I should be able to get an idea at least.” He paused for a few seconds. “Do you think the magic is helping conceal their identities as well?”

Tim stared at the images as well, moving slowly closer to them, “Maybe,” he nodded subconsciously, “I can’t get a feel either.  The longer I stare at them the harder it is to tell anything.”

“Magic.” Bruce shook his head in disgust.  “Anything else to tell us tonight, Tim?”

Tim shook his head “Not today.  I’ll have more tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded a thanks and switched places with Tim.  Damian scowled at Tim and moved to put some distance between him and Tim.  Tim fought off rolling his eyes in annoyance, but only just managed it.  Bruce turned to the rest of the team, “Okay, as soon as we are done here, we’ll start scouting the city to see if we can make contact. We are not looking to be too subtle with this.  We want them to know we are here.  If you catch sight of them, let the rest of us know we will send someone to talk to them about a meeting later tonight or tomorrow.  I want to make this very clear.  Our goal today is to meet the local heroes and set up a meeting in the next few days in order to gather more information.   The primary mission is recon.  We have no idea what exactly is going on here or how dangerous it is.  We are not engaging tonight.  We want them to trust us, think we’re on their side, and get as much information out of them as we can, on the situation and the miraculous.”

“If we want them to trust us, we should leave the rabid squirrel here.  Or better yet, send his petty ass home.  He’s only going to cause trouble.” Jason griped, motioning toward Damian.  Tim did roll his eyes this time.  It was a stupid fight to pick.  Damian wasn’t going anywhere.  Damian wanted to come and Bruce gave in.  They were just on containment duty now, trying to minimize the damage Damian would do.

“You’ve made your feelings more than abundantly clear on the matter, Little Wing, frequently.  Damian is there now.  Deal with it.” Dick reprimanded him, tired of this conversation. Jason hadn’t gotten his way in their discussion in the Batcave.  He hadn’t gotten his way discussing it the next day.  He hadn’t gotten his way in the car on the way to the airport or boarding the plane or on the plane or deplaning or while checking into the hotel, he wasn’t going to get Damian kicked off the mission now.

“Someone needs to be there to make sure you don’t tell them all our secrets trying to impress some vapid, philistine harpy.” Damian snapped turning his back to Jason.  

It was a small miscalculation, but in this family that is all that is needed. By moving away from Tim, he had placed himself close to Jason and by turning, he had left himself open to Jason’s much longer arm reach.  Jason grabbed Damian’s cape and yanked back sharply.  “Watch your mouth, you puerile, creepy, little shit.”  Damian let out a startled grunt before landing with a loud thump on the ground.  He growled at Jason and tensed to pounce on him.

“Jason!” Bruce admonished moving between the two boys.  “Let’s focus on the mission.”

Jason rolled his eyes.  Of fucking course that would be Bruce’s reaction. “Right. Don’t want to prevent the oncoming disaster if it’s coming from inside the house.” He leaned back in the chair with a huff.  “You want to focus on the mission, Old Man?  Fine.  Coming at them with an almost full team that includes this asshole,” he motioned toward Damian, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘trust us’, does it?  Do we really want everyone to show up to this thing?  Maybe one or two of you should stay in the room.”

“Considering your girlfriend threatened to leave us bloody and broken, more is probably a safer bet.  We probably should have insisted on Dick coming as well, maybe have the girls meet us here too.  And do you really want to leave Damian unsupervised?” Tim asked with a raised brow fully facing him.  The only way to attempt to contain Damian at this point was to keep him close and Jason knew it.

“You could stay with him.  We weren’t planning on actually having a discussion tonight anyway.  That way you could get more research done and someone could watch the child.” Jason reasoned. Tim nodded in thought.  Not a bad idea at all.  He would like more time to research before they actually interacted with any of the heroes.  But it came from Jason so there must be something wrong with it.  He just needed to figure out what it was.

Damian growled at the description.  “I am not a child.”

Jason scoffed back at him, “You act like one.”

Damian jumped at him flipping midair and unsheathing his katana, landing with it a few centimeters from Jason’s jugular, “Could a child do that?”

“One just did.” Jason glowered at him, hitting the sword away.

“Jason has a point.” Dick spoke up, breaking the tension.  Damian whipped his head to Dick’s image on the screen his face giving away a flash of hurt before almost immediately schooling his expression into a blank look.

“Did that hurt to say?” Jason asked with a smirk, “It looked like it hurt. That’s okay sometimes the most satisfying things do.”

“Yeah, that’s healthy,” Tim muttered to himself.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued on, ignoring Jason, “Sending so many, especially hostile ones, looks like a power play.  It looks like you’re trying to intimidate them.”

“We are,” Damian snapped at him.

“You aren’t.” Dick corrected him. “You’re trying to get them on your side. You are trying to get them to trust you.  Not scare them.”

“We won’t all show up to meet them.  I’ll take the lead along with Tim.  Jason and Damian will hold back and watch.” Bruce clarified.  “For tonight I want everyone out and about so we can cover more ground and hopefully either run into one of the heroes or make our presence known enough to get their attention for tomorrow.”

“If this” Damian indicated all of them in the room, “is all it takes to scare them, they need our help more than we thought.”

“He didn’t say it would scare them, he said it looks like we are trying to scare them.” Jason responded with a sharp edge to his voice.

“You’re welcome to stay back in the room.” Tim offered annoyed with the conversation.

“I have information I want too” Jason growled at him.

“We are not here to get information on that woman.” Tim rebuked him.

“You aren’t” Jason muttered turning away.

“Jason” Bruce said sternly, “We are here to collect data on the miraculous and the heroes and see how much danger we and the world are in and if something needs to be done.”

“Not get you a date with a girl you don’t know and don’t even know if she is interested.” Tim taunted him.

“This is not about getting a date,” Jason defended himself.

Tim, Dick, and Damian all scoffed in unison while Bruce and Alfred gave Jason a skeptical look.  Selina sat in the background with an amused smile.  Really, the only result she was interested in from this mission was Jason finding his girl.

Jason glared at him before turning to Bruce, “I know what we’re here for…” He wouldn’t turn a date down if it should come up and if he managed to find her, he was definitely going to ask her.  But, his priority was to help her, which meant both finding her and getting information on the miraculous.  If he wanted to achieve both of his goals, he first needed to focus on that the family wanted… for now, so they would be distracted and he could focus on his other mission alone.  “What exactly were you thinking might need to be done?”

“Whatever we have to.” Bruce responded calmly but with steel in his eyes.

Jason furrowed his brows at Bruce.  That explanation was significantly more hostile than the original mission statement.  Not that he was surprised, but Bruce stating it so plainly meant he considered it a higher probability.  “That’s a far cry from the ‘we’re just gathering information’ mission you extolled earlier.” Jason gritted out.

“It’s all related.” Bruce stated.

“Why do you think we’re here, Todd?  We need to figure out if we need to acquire the miraculous and how to do so.” Damian snapped at him.

“You’re planning on taking the miraculous?” Tim rounded on Bruce, his confusion evident, having come to the same conclusion as Jason.  “You said over and over again you didn’t think we needed to worry about the girl that broke into the cave and now you’re planning on stealing their miraculous?”

“We are not going to steal their miraculous!” Jason exclaimed.  What the hell was going on?  He had thought they were making progress.  Bruce agreed to investigate and offer help fight Paris’ villain and now they were planning on taking out the heroes themselves.

“We are going to assess the situation.” Bruce clarified trying to pacify them and bring emotions down to a quiet rumbling rather than a full out roar. Completely content was never an option and Bruce knew it.

“We wouldn’t steal Green Lantern’s ring, we shouldn’t even be thinking about touching theirs.”  Jason yelled.

“We would if he were evil.” Dick reasoned, not at all surprised by the turn of events and long past getting upset when Bruce made plans like these. Bruce liked to be prepared.  The Paris heroes might not ever do anything evil. They might become allies, but that wouldn’t stop Bruce from figuring out their weaknesses and how to take them down should the need arise.

“If they were evil, Constantine wouldn’t be helping them.” Jason argued back, his face starting to turn red, “Not wanting to have you interfere doesn’t make them evil B.” Jason argued back.

“We are not planning on taking anything, but we need to be prepared if things go bad.  We don’t know enough to even begin to guess what could go wrong to cause us to step in. At this stage, we are just trying to get an idea what is going on so we can get a better idea of what to ask later so we can make a plan.” Bruce started moving toward the balcony doors as he pulled on his cowl, “Now finish suiting up.  Let’s go.”

“Oh this is going to go just fucking swimmingly,” Jason muttered under his breath as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his helmet.  Tim hummed in agreement and started bracing for the worst, which was standard practice at this point.

   Chapter 5

  Tags:

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 Note: *Sigh* I honestly thought they would meet again, kinda, in this chapter, but then they didn’t, the unruly bastards.  So very sorry.  Next chapter I promise!  I swear it is the next scene.

[itsamejin]

this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol. 

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail​

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail​ for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

[soulmate-game]

Part1 ... Part2 ... Part3...

Marinette blinked, tilting her head a bit. The streets around them were loud and bustling with bodies and vehicles despite the sun being right at the horizon. Gotham would slow down soon, people being wary of the darkness in the crime-ridden city,but for now it was busy as usual. Marinette and Jon stood outside the stadium that would be hosting the World Fencing Finals, but a familiar face had stopped them right before they entered.

“I didn’t know you liked fencing,” Marinette mused out loud, making Damian tsk and look away. The boy got along with Marinette alright, but that didn’t immediately cancel out his natural standoffish nature.

“Of course you didn’t, I never told you,” he retorted smoothly, the youngest Wayne moving forward to reluctantly open the door for his two friends.

“You hardly talk about yourself at all, actually,” Marinette continued, humming to herself. “Are you keeping secrets?”

Damian scoffed again, even as Jon snickered behind them. “Everyone has secrets. Even a naive child like you should know that.”

Jon couldn’t quite wipe the smile off his face. He had long since gotten used to the strange way the two communicated over the past month since they first met. Marinette always seemed to know when one of Damian’s jabs were or weren’t meant as serious insults, just as Damian was somehow able to always pick up the exact second that Marinette’s caring nature switched from being rooted in kindness to coming from a place of fear.

Yet Jon was the only one of the trio of friends who could hear their heartbeats change pace when they spotted one another, or when their hands accidentally brushed. Neither Damian nor Marinette seemed to realize their own feelings yet, but Jon would be there when they did.

He just hoped their relationship didn’t develop too quickly. Both his best friend and his new sister were dangerously fragile, just in different ways. He didn’t want them accidentally breaking each other.

“Come to think of it,” Jon heard Damian say, pulling the young kryptonian from his thoughts. “You do not talk about yourself quite as much as it seems like you do. You’ve certainly never mentioned liking swordplay.”

“Ah,” Marinette gave Damian a lopsided smile, rubbing the back of her neck. “I like watching it sometimes, but I’m mainly here to see my friend. She’s one of the competitors today, she and I managed to convince her mom to let her sleepover at our place for two nights.”

“But only if she wins,” Jon added sourly. He and his dad had both heard that condition of the deal that Kagami’s mother had made loud and clear. “I’m sorry Mari, but your friend’s mom sounds way too strict and demanding. If she wins this competition, she can spend two days hanging out with you, but if she even gets as low as second place they have to go back to Japan for remedial training immediately?” Jon shook his head. It wasn’t right.

Damian raised both eyebrows at that, but seemed more intrigued than surprised. “I’ve seen stricter,” he commented casually, only succeeding in making Jon glare at him for the veiled reference to his own dark childhood. “But you are right, Kent. That is concerning treatment. Who is this friend of yours, Marinette? Perhaps I have heard of them if they are good enough to qualify for the World Finals.”

By then, the trio had already handed in their tickets and reached the stands. Jon and Marinette glared at Damian when they realized all of their seats were in the front row, right next to each other even, knowing without a doubt that the rich boy was somehow behind it. The two Kents had had much worse seats when they had first purchased their tickets online.

Marinette waited until they all sat down before answering. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you know her. Her name’s Kagami Tsurugi—“

“World class fencer from a long family line of Japanese fencers,” Damian interrupted, nodding knowingly as one of his hands raised to gently grip his chin. “Before Fencing was introduced to Japan, they were famous for their practice of kendo and katana technique. Especially considering their typically untraditional way of insisting that the females in their family take up combat. That, of course, traces all the way back to the ancient female samurai, or Onna-Bugeisha, Tomoe Gozen, one of the ancestors of the Tsurugi family before they split from the Gozen family.”

Marinette and Jon just blinked at the young heir, before Jon’s mouth slowly started to curve up in a mischievous smile. Damian’s eyes narrowed in warning.

“Kent—“

“You’re a fan,” Jon ignored the warning, gleefully grinning ear to ear. “You did your research on her and her family, that’s some hardcore biggest-fan behavior right there. Do you want us to see if she can give you an autographkfgdjgdgj—“ Jon was cut off as Damian lunged over Marinette, the only person separating the two boys, and muffled Jon’s mouth with one hand as his other tried to slam Jon’s head on the chair’s arm. Of course super strength was no joke, and Jon’s head didn’t move even an inch as he laughed through Damian’s hands.

Marinette was somehow able to separate them, and Damian sat back in his chair with a huff and straightened his button-down shirt imperiously.

“I am not a ‘fan’,” he denied primly, but not even Marinette missed the slight pink to his cheeks even through his denial. “I simply acknowledge her skill. As a practitioner of swordplay myself, it is only me being proactive to research her family history. If she is so inclined, I intend to invite her to the manor sometime before she leaves for a casual spar.”

“Oh, she’ll love that,” Marinette agreed, nodding even as the first duel started. “Kagami is always looking for new sparring partners who can keep up with her, but so far only our other friend Adrien and her mom are capable enough. But…” her voice had dropped to a whisper out of respect for the current combatants, but both boys noticed her pause and the way she worried her lip.

“What?” Jon whispered back, worried. Marinette’s nose wrinkled.

“But I don’t know if it’s a good idea to introduce Kagami to Damian. They might end up taking over the world.”

Jon slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a snort. Damian just smirked.

“Now you must introduce us. Perhaps I can finally meet someone who can conspire with me to get rid of my brothers.”

With that, the three quieted and actually watched the fights. Jon didn’t really understand the rules or what was happening, but he liked watching the footwork and the different styles that each competitor used when they dueled. Then, about the third or fourth match, a fencer in a bright red uniform walked out.

“That’s her!” Marinette squealed, leaning forward in her seat. She and Damian had occasionally whispered to one another about what they thought were good or bad calls on points, and critiquing different competitor’s techniques. It was a bit of an eye opener to Jon, who realized that he didn’t know much about what Marinette’s life was like back in Paris despite living with the girl for almost five months. In fact, he didn’t know much about her beyond what she actively showed at home.

Maybe Damian had a point earlier. Marinette had a weird way of making it feel like she spoke about herself a lot but in reality didn’t share much about herself at all. Most of what Jon knew about her came from experience. He knew her tells for whenever she started getting nervous, excited, worried, or was close to an attack. He knew how to tell when she was feeling overwhelmed or started retreating into herself because she didn’t want to intrude. But this?

Jon watched as Marinette stood up and cheered for Kagami when the red-clad fencer scored swift points.

He didn’t know the things that she liked to do besides designing. She mentioned listening to Jagged Stone, maybe that was her favorite kind of music.

Whatever. Jon wouldn’t let himself dwell on how Marinette didn’t open up as much as he would like—it was his job as the older brother for once to put some effort in too. Besides, with everything else Marinette had been through over the months it made sense for her to be a little closed off.

Jon moved his eyes back to the floor. Kagami lunged forward right then, ruthless as she slashed and didn’t allow her opponent a moment to do anything but scramble to deflect. But the red-uniformed woman was too fast, almost violent in her strikes, and she landed three hits on her opponent within one second.

Yeah. Now that he knew what was going on, he knew how to gently, slowly, learn more about his sister. Sorry Kon, but Jon had his eyes on the Best Brother prize.

Kagami won, without her opponent winning a single point against her.

“You know, Kagami’s fighting reminds me of someone,” Jon spoke up, ignoring the venomous glare Damian sent him. His sister looked over curiously as the fighters swapped out and Kagami was led to the back, where a locker room of sorts was set up for the competitors.

“Really? Who? I’ve only ever seen Kagami fight like that. Maybe her mom, but that’s different.”

Jon smiled, knowing he’d get some shit for this stunt later when he went on patrol with Damien but decidedly not caring.

“Robin. The newest one anyway, you can find videos online from different sightings of him around Gotham. He uses a sword.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, obviously knowing that he partnered with Robin a lot as Superboy but not knowing that Damien was also intimately aware of that fact.

“Huh, that’s weird. Ryuuko, one of the Paris heroes, also uses a sword. But it’s a Miraculous weapon, so it’s a bit different than a normal sword.”

Jon winced. That backfired, he and his dad weren’t quite ready for the rest of the JL to know about the Paris situation. So much for the plan to bring it up later, when Marinette was better settled into life in America.

“Paris has heroes?” Damian asked, eyes sharp. All it took was one glance from the green-eyed boy for Jon to know that this would definitely be brought up to Batman. Great.

At least the next match started, distracting both of the fencing fans from continuing the conversation. For the moment.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was the loudest voice in the stadium, standing on her chair without shame as she cheered for her friend, Kagami’s lips twitching in the slightest hint of a smile before she bowed her head to accept her medal.

Marinette was not surprised at all to see her friend win first place in the whole competition. Damian was pleased, and suitably impressed. Jon was just happy that this meant Kagami’s mother couldn’t keep Marinette from spending time with her friend.

Hopping down from the chair, Marinette turned to her friend and brother with a large smile. “Come on! Kagami and her mom are going to meet us in front of the building once everything is done, but I don’t want to fight the crowds.”

Jon cringed, nodding and standing up immediately. Marinette didn’t do well in crowds nowadays, though it could certainly be worse. Inside buildings like the school wasn’t so bad, it was mainly outdoors. Jon and his parents never missed how Marinette would constantly hold Lois’s hand or stick religiously to the woman’s side whenever they walked outside around tall buildings or through thick crowds. None of them mentioned it.

Damien picked up on it, having observed Marinette’s behavior firsthand during the only time he had went outside with her somewhere other than school. They had merely gone to buy Damian a new tie that Marinette approved of, but the girl had scarcely gone further than a foot away from him the whole time they were outside in the city. Only the stern glances from Jon had kept him from commenting on it.

Moments later, the two had found themselves waiting outside the stadium at almost ten at night, though none of them seemed particularly uncomfortable. Marinette seemed downright at home, besides her occasional glances up at the building next to them and her refusal to leave Damian’s side. They waited a good half hour in the slight chill of the night air before Kagami Tsurugi, completely changed out of her uniform, walked up beside her mother Tomoe Tsurugi.

The older woman was, to Jon’s slight shock (Damian’s research was VERY thorough), blind. She tilted her head when she and her daughter stopped in front of the trio.

“Miss Marinette?” She asked in flawless English. “How have you been?”

Marinette smiled, the expression oddly soft compared to her usual beaming grin. “As well as I can be, Madame Tsurugi. With me are my adoptive brother, Jon Kent, and one of my new friends, Damian Wayne. If it is alright with you, we would like to go to Damian’s house for the night. My guardians and his father already approved.”

Jon and Damian blinked, never having heard Marinette speak so properly before. It truly said a lot about the kind of woman Tomoe Tsurugi was. The woman gave an icy smile, pleased but distant. She raised one delicate eyebrow.

“I am getting old, but not dumb Miss Dupain-Cheng. I know very well who the Waynes are, and referring to his home as a mere house is a gross understatement that you couldn’t hope to fool me with in a hundred years,” the woman remarked with subtle humor. Marinette chuckled.

“It was worth a shot,” she defended herself with a shrug. Tomoe shook her head in amusement before settling both hands on her cane and straightening her posture.

“If you vouch for your… friend…” Tomoe said with deliberate slowness. Marinette was quick to nod.

“I do. Damian is trustworthy, and I won’t leave Kagami alone, Madame Tsurugi.”

Tomoe’s mouth flattened, and she was silent for a moment. “You know that you are one of the few people I trust with my daughter, Marinette. I will trust your judgement this time as well. However, Kagami must still call me in the morning and when she does reach your new home as well. And you remember her vacation training schedule?”

Both boys looked at each other, wondering why Kagami did not even try to speak up even though they had their own suspicions. The Japanese teen found that to be the moment she was done being silent however, and sighed.

“Mother,” Kagami spoke, back straight and tone level and proper. “I am perfectly capable of sticking to my training on my own. I do not need Mari-hime to remind me.”

Tomoe pursed her lips, but nodded nonetheless. “Alright. Mister Wayne? I trust your father is alright with Kagami bringing her fencing equipment?”

Damian nodded, despite knowing that Tomoe would not see it. For some reason he got the feeling that she was fully aware of the gesture regardless of her lack of sight.

“Of course. I am actually a fencer as well, though not competitively. I was hopeful that Kagami would humor me with a spar, our manor has a rather nice gym that would provide a more than sufficient space for such an activity.”

At that, Tomoe seemed rather pleased. “That is, of course, up to Kagami since she has not seen Marinette in quite some time and likely has plans for her time already. But I encourage any opportunity that my daughter finds to hone her skills.”

“The competitors today were skilled, but lack knowledge of real battle,” Kagami added, locking gazes with Damian. “My mother trains me as if I were actually fighting, so I seldom find fencers able to match my reactions. If you believe yourself capable, I would be honored to cross swords with you.”

“Oh no,” Marinette stage-whispered to Jon even as her eyes stayed on Damian and Kagami. “This is where the world domination starts.”

Even Tomoe couldn’t resist a small grin at that, and it wasn’t much longer before the trio were picked up by Damian’s butler, who introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. Inside the limousine, Kagami visibly relaxed. Her back was still straight, though not overly so, and her face was no longer stringently stoic. Once they pulled away from the stadium, she wasted no time pulling Marinette into a tight hug.

“I am sorry I could not be there for you, Mari-hime.”

Marinette laughed, returning the hug enthusiastically. “Don’t be silly! You were at the funeral, and you video chat with me at least twice a week. That’s plenty.”

Kagami shook her head, tightening her hold. “My mother would have been more than happy to take you in. Sometimes I believe she likes you more than me,” Kagami finally pulled away, turning to level a hard stare at Jon. “But that obviously did not happen, so you and your parents better take good care of Mari-hime, or nobody will find your bodies.”

“Kagami!” Marinette immediately reprimanded, aghast. “The Kents are wonderful! And what did I say about the death threats?”

Kagami rolled her eyes. “My cousin’s family still makes traditional katanas. I have plenty of available arms to carry out my promises.”

“Kagamiiiiiii.”

“If they treat you well, then they have nothing to worry about.”

Marinette groaned in despair, dramatically flopping over until she was draped over the side of Kagami like a limp towel. “I’m gonna get you a spray bottle, and every time you threaten somebody with violence I’m going to spritz you.”

Kagami’s eyes narrowed in playful challenge. “You will have to catch me first.”

Damian was smirking, enjoying this interaction a bit too much. “I believe the two of us will get along just fine, Tsurugi. Do you have a favorite katana craftsman, by any chance?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“They’re so tiny!” The man did not seem to realize the danger he was in with that statement. He was apparently one of Damian’s older brothers, Jason Todd. Both Kagami and Marinette, the “tiny” people in question, glared daggers at the man. “Okay, you,” he said to Kagami, “You’re at least intimidating. Don’t unsheathe that sword please. Bruce already told us that you won the World Finals, and I would rather not die today.” He held his hands up in surrender. Kagami just smirked smugly, and crossed her arms.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “And me?”

Jason blinked. “What about you? You’re tiny and adorable, even when you’re glaring at me!” He boldly came forward to rustle her hair. “Like a little pixie.”

Kagami covered her smile with a hand, eyes dancing with amusement. Bruce, who had been the first to welcome them all in and introduce himself to Kagami, was pinching his nose next to Alfred in the background. Damian’s other brothers were also gathered. Apparently they all had wanted to meet his new friend and Jon’s new sister.

“Be careful, I’m not the one you should be worried about. At least without my sword I am not as dangerous,” Kagami warned. Everyone blinked at her, and her expression quickly turned confused. Her eyes darted to Marinette, who was too busy glaring at Jason with puffed-out cheeks to notice. “Mari-hime… you didn’t tell anyone?”

Marinette finally looked over, shrugging. “I mentioned it to Jon, Clark, and Lois.”

“What are you talking about, Miss Tsurugi?” Bruce asked, curious after the warning from the fencer. Kagami looked up, and slowly a devious smile spread over her face. It was small, but sent shivers over Jason’s spine.

“Jason and Marinette should spar. Mari-hime is quite the combatant when she desires to be.”

Jason crossed his arms, raising his brow and looking Marinette up and down. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m about double her size—“

“Hey Jon, why don’t you call Lois?” Marinette interrupted, turning to look at her brother with a small smirk. “We’ve got her a huge story— burly biker is too scared to spar a girl half his size.”

Cackles arose, the other two of Damian’s brothers leaning on each other as they guffawed. Bruce and Alfred even stifled chuckles of their own, and Damian’s smirk was infuriatingly prominent. Jon was much like the other two Wayne boys, nearly bowled over in laughter. Jason, after a brief moment of shock and offense, straightened up and grinned. He shrugged off his leather jacket with a small huff of laughter of his own.

“Alright, that was pretty good. You want a spar that badly, you got one. But you’re gonna have to really impress me if you want me to take back what I said about you being adorable and nonthreatening.”

“I’m putting fifty dollars on Marinette,” Kagami bet loudly, raising her hand. “Who wants to bet against me?”

Jason and Marinette both shook their heads in amusement, the big man leading Marinette to the family fitness room (the public one anyway, outside of the Batcave) as everyone besides Bruce and Alfred energetically placed their bets on who would win the spar.

Dick and Tim were betting on Jason, for obvious reasons. Damian withheld from betting, but it was clear he was hoping Marinette would somehow win. Jon just stayed quiet, refusing to share any opinion on the matter. But once Jason and Marinette started heading to the sparring mat that was already laid out, he stopped her.

“You sure about this?” He asked, pulling her away so that nobody else could eavesdrop. “I know I laughed and everything, but you don’t have to spar. Jason won’t hold back if you tell him not to, but he’s not a pushover in any respect.”

Marinette frowned. She had gotten a little caught up in the moment, but at the same time… she wanted this. “You guys are great,” she replied to her brother, voice equally soft. “But you and Clark don’t focus on combat technique. I haven’t had a real fight, at least not one where I don’t have powers to fall back on, in a long time. I need this.”

Jon sighed, but nodded. He squeezed her shoulder for a moment, before smiling at the shorter girl. “Then show everyone what you can do. And I suggest telling Jason not to hold back, or you won’t be able to show off as much as you want.”

Marinette bounced on her heels happily, leaning up to kiss Jon on the cheek. “I’m winning Kagami some money today!” She yelled with a fist-bump before jogging over to join a very amused Jason.

“Was your bro giving you some tips?” He asked, stretching out his arms as Marinette giggled.

“Kind of! Jon suggested that I ask you to not hold back!”

Jason froze, gaze sliding over to the young kryptonian, who only smiled back enigmatically. He might not have spent much time around the youngest Super, but he hung out with Kon often enough and he knew that Jon was fully aware of what he was capable of as Red Hood. He wouldn’t suggest that Jason not hold back unless he was actually confident in Marinette’s skill.

The rest of his family seemed to pick up on that as well, also frozen in shock. Jason was one of the most ruthless fighters of all of them, fearless and brutal.

“Kent better know what he’s doing,” Damian hissed under his breath, to which his father and brothers could only nod to silently.

“So the pixie wants me to not hold back? Alright,” Jason agreed to after a moment of stunned silence. Immediately most of his jovial manner drained away, replaced with focus as he spread his legs and sunk into a stance that came naturally to him at that point. If Jon and Marinette both wanted him to treat her like a real threat (without forgetting that this was just a spar, anyway) then he would. Maybe the girl had super strength or invulnerability like the other Supers. That would explain why Clark was so quick to take her in.

“Oh I hope we don’t regret this later,” Bruce groaned before stepping into the center mat and raising one hand. “Alright. Winner is whoever can pin or otherwise subdue the other first. Please, don’t break any bones or skin. I do not need an angry Lois Lane on my doorstep tomorrow morning. You can use the whole room as long as you don’t risk hitting or involving any of us innocent bystanders. Ready?” Bruce backed up off the mat. “Start!” He wasted no time backing away to a wall.

There was no moment of stillness. There was no waiting with baited breath or looking for an opening. As soon as Bruce called Start, Jason attacked.

He jumped over the distance separating him and Marinette, bringing his knee up to try and end this in one strike like he would have in the field.

Only Marinette wasn’t there to take the hit. Just as quickly as Jason had lunged, she had jumped. Instead of Jason kicking her in the stomach, the small Asian girl had leapt up, and landed on the upraised knee balanced on only one nimble foot.

Suddenly, they were face to face. They grinned at each other, and then they were nothing but movement again.

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @bigpicklebananatree @thezestywalru @bugaboosandbees @ironspiderstark @mikantsume @marinettepotterandplagg @more-or-less-human-i-guess @myazael @ladybug-182 @buticaaba @dast218 @maribat-is-lifeblood @elspethshadow @fandomsaremylifeline @moonlightstar64 @whats-she-gonna-post-next @toodaloo-kangaroo @maybemanymuffins @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @legendaryneckjudgestudent @goblinwhoships @yin-390

Part 5

This got long, so the majority of the spar will be in the next part so that I don’t get cut off. :D OMG, StOrY DeVelOPmeNT?! Who am I?!

More good stuff next chap.

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Doctor Agent Super Genius (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You’re in a band and you wrote a song about Spencer. 

Warnings: Language. 

Notes: Not me going from posting nothing for months to posting two fics in one day. Nope, I’d never do that. Also this is kinda a Dumbass!Reader x Spencer, but like not really. That’s how I started it but it didn’t really end like that so whatever. Fluff, as usual. Spencer blushes way more than any normal person.

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

You and Spencer couldn’t be more different.

Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re the same age, live in the same city. You both like reading and sci-fi. You both listen to a lot of music and love your jobs.

Of course, you can’t agree on any of those things. He reads classic novels in their original languages, and you read cheesy romance books. He likes Star Trek, you like Star Wars. He listens to classical music, and you listen to rock. He’s an FBI agent with multiple doctorates, and you’re a part time bartender/part time lead singer of a not-so-famous band who barely graduated high school. By all accounts, you two shouldn’t work. But somehow, despite all your differences, you’ve been dating for nearly a year now. 

Your relationship really couldn’t be stronger; you live together, you’ve met his mother, he’s met your parents- but there was still one line the two of you hadn’t crossed. Meeting his coworkers. You know that he’s told them he’s dating someone, after all, they’re profilers. They could tell he was with someone after your first date. But for some reason, Spencer was still hesitant to introduce them to you. You tried not to let your insecurities cloud your thoughts, but well, how could you not? Was he embarrassed by you? Did he think they’d judge you for your lack of education and career? Would he break up with you if they didn’t approve?

You’d brought up meeting his coworkers on multiple occasions, of course, but he always had a reason to put it off. 

“We’re all so busy, we’d probably get called off to a case before they even get to know you.” 

“They’re just gonna profile you, Y/N, trust me, you don’t want that.”

“It’s a team bonding thing, I don’t want you to feel left out. Next time?”

So, when you found out the entire BAU was getting a week off after almost non-stop cases for the past two months, you knew this was your chance. You didn’t care if they were going to judge you, or profile you, you wanted to get to know the people closest to Spencer. So, when Spencer came home that night, he was met with you, holding a flyer for your band’s next gig.

~~~

“What’s this?” He asked, taking off his bag and putting it on the ground next to the door. Normally, you’d scold him for that - “There’s a perfectly good hook right there, Spencer.” - but you let it slide this time. 

“Band’s doing a gig at the bar on Friday. And you have this week off, which means you get to come!” You handed him the flyer, and planted a kiss on his cheek as he answered.

“Of course, you know I never miss your-”

“And so can the rest of the BAU!” You cut him off with a sweet, and convincing smile on your face. 

“Honey…” He started, but you wouldn’t let him talk you out of it this time.

“C’mon Spence! We’ve been together for almost a year now! I want to get to know these people, they’re basically your family! What’s the harm in having them come to the bar?” You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before your next words, “Do you really think they’ll hate me so much?”

“What?” Spencer was shocked you would even suggest that the BAU wouldn’t like you - how could they not love you? “No! They’ll love you!”

“Then why won’t you let me meet them?”

Now it was Spencer’s turn to share his insecurities. “W- I just...you and I are so different,” He started, before you scoffed.

“Yeah, no shit, Spence. Unless you have secret nipple piercings too.” You said sarcastically, enjoying the redness that covered Spencer’s cheeks at the mention of your piercings. 

“Anyways...you and I are really different, and they’ll point it out. And make fun of me. And..and probably make you realize that you could do better than nerdy old me.” Spencer let out a breath at his confession, feeling a weight leave his chest that he’d been carrying for months. 

“Are you insane? Spence, if anyone can do better it’s you!” Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but you kept talking, “I mean really Spencer, you’re a badass FBI agent! You’re a doctor! You’re a genius! Any girl would kill to have a guy like-” Spencer cut you off with an intense kiss. When he finally pulled away, just for a moment, he spoke quietly.

“So Friday, huh? You really wanna meet them?”

“Yes, you idiot. I really wanna meet them.”

~~~

When Friday came rolling around, you were both extremely excited and nervous. On one hand, you were meeting the BAU, who are practically Spencer’s family, and you knew their opinion of you could make or break your relationship. But, you’d written a song this week that you had yet to show Spencer, and you couldn’t wait for him to hear it at the gig. Again, you were nervous for him and the team to hear the song, but part of being a musician is being vulnerable.

You’d been rehearsing the song with your band all week - they were a little mad that you’d wanted to add a brand new song so last minute, but they all agreed it was good enough that it had to be on the setlist - so you hadn’t gotten to spend as much of Spencer’s week off with him as you’d have liked. Hopefully when he heard the song tonight, he’d forgive you for it. 

“Why can’t I go to your sound check again?” He asked you for the fifth time that day, as you were getting ready for your gig. Normally, you’d love to have Spencer at sound check, and he much preferred watching you perform when there wasn’t an obnoxious crowd surrounding him.

“I told you, I have a surprise for you during the show, and if you come to sound check-”

“It’ll be ruined, I know. I was just hoping you’d change your mind.” He pouted, making you almost regret saying no to him. Almost.

“Trust me babe, it’ll be worth it. Go to dinner with the team, and I’ll meet you all at the bar at 8.”

“Are you sure you want to meet them?”

“Yes, genius, I’m sure. 8 o’clock.”

“Okay, 8 o’clock.”

~~~

When you walked onto the small stage with the band, you could immediately spot Spencer and the BAU in the crowd. There was a decent turn out, but Spencer stood out like a sore thumb. At least, he always stood out to you. You gave him a smile and wink, before standing in front of the mic to introduce the band. 

The set started like normal, playing the songs Spencer knew by heart (of course, he only needed to hear the songs once to know them by heart, but it still made your heart soar when you saw him singing the lyrics in the crowd). You noticed the other members of the BAU enjoying the songs as well, which settled your nerves greatly. You saw who you could only assume to be Garcia and Morgan dancing provocatively together, the two other women - probably Prentiss and JJ - dancing modestly together, pausing to talk every now and then. You recognized Rossi from the back cover of his books, enjoying the music with a scotch and a slight bobbing of his head to the beat. The last person, from the process of elimination, Hotch, didn’t appear to be enjoying himself at first glance - but you could see a hint of a smile on his face as he lightly swayed to the music. 

When you got to the final song in your set, you were looking right at Spencer as you introduced the song. “So, this next song is gonna be the last of the night -” A roar of upset came from the crowd, causing you to laugh as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. “I know, I know, I’m not happy about it either guys. But, it is a brand new song, and the inspiration for it is right here in the room.” The crowd grew in excitement this time, looking around at each other as if they could figure out who the mystery muse was. Spencer already felt a blush growing on his cheeks as he realized what your surprise was going to be. “This song is called Doctor Agent Super Genius!” You said with a large smile on your face, as the guitarist began playing the beginning chords. 

Spencer’s blush was even more obvious now, especially since all his coworkers had looked away from the stage and towards him. He only shrugged in response, trying to show that he knew nothing about it. Before any of them could question him, you began to sing.

Most girls go for tall, dark, and handsome

But that’s not how I’d describe you

You’re a little scrawny,

Your hair is kinda funny,

And you’ve got enough brains for two

The music began to build, and you were looking right at Spencer as you sang.

You talk my ear off about random facts

That I don’t give a shit about, but, 

I’ll smile and nod

As you go on and on

Cause I want you to take me out

You laughed a little, then began playing your own guitar along with the lead guitarist before the chorus hit.

You see he’s got 

1 2 3!

PHDs, and he knows exactly what I’m thinkin’ just by lookin’ at me

He knows everything about everything

Especially what to do in between the sheets, hey!

As you played your guitar and did your best to interact with the crowd before the next verse hit, Spencer’s blush had hit an all time high. The team, clearly enjoying the suggestive lyrics and the way Spencer had reacted to them, were now all dancing. Well, except Hotch. He was just laughing at Spencer along with the team.

You claim that you don’t have luck with girls

But I don’t see how that’s true

Cause those ladies are insane if they don’t want an agent

Who’s as fucking cute as you

Yeah, you talk my ear off about random facts

That I don’t give a shit about, but

I’ll smile and nod, ask a question or two,

Cause I’m kind of in love with you

Once again, you played guitar as the crowd got ready to sing along, now familiar with the words to the chorus. Spencer wasn’t looking, but Garcia had pulled out her phone to catch his reaction. (She already had plans to play the video at your wedding one day)

You see he’s got 

1 2 3!

PHDs, and he knows exactly what I’m thinkin’ just by lookin’ at me

He knows everything about everything

Especially what to do in between the sheets

Because he’s got

1 2 3!

PHDs, so he shoulda known better than to be with someone like me

He’ll never forget a single moment of it

I just hope he won’t regret it…

Dear God, please don’t regret it!

Doctor Agent Super Genius,

It’s time to be an idiot and,

Fall in love with me

The lead guitarist had one last moment to shine as the song ended, and the crowd went wild before the band exited the stage. 

~~~

It had been 15 minutes since your show had ended, and you finally made your way out of the back. After a change of clothes, and a small pep talk from the drummer in your band, you spotted Spencer and the team at a table in the back. As you made your way over, you caught the eye of Penelope Garcia, who immediately stood up and pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“Y/N Y/L/N! I am so excited to finally meet you!” She said, letting you go for only a brief moment before pulling you into a chair between herself and your boyfriend. He only got to give you a brief hello before Penelope began introducing you to everyone. “This is Derek, Emily, JJ, Rossi, and Hotch. Oh! And I’m Penelope, your new best friend.” You laughed at her excitement, taking it all in stride.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N. I hope you liked the show!” At the mention of the show, Spencer’s cheeks, which had only just begun to resemble his normal skin tone, turned red again. 

“Oh trust me, Y/L/N, that was the best concert I’ve ever seen.” Derek said, laughing at Spencer’s reaction. 

“You did amazing, as always.” Spencer said, glaring at Derek briefly before planting a light kiss on your cheek. This time, it was your turn to have your cheeks heat up. 

“Please tell me you guys have a CD or something I can buy, I mean honestly, I’d be listening to your music even if it wasn’t for you dating the super genius.” Emily said, causing your face to light up.

“We don’t have any physical CDs yet, but all of our music is on itunes and spotify! We’re hoping to put together an album soon, once we record Doctor Agent Super Genius and a couple other songs we’ve written recently…” And you were off, talking about your music was always something you could do for hours. 

As you got to know the team, and they got to know you, Spencer realized how stupid it had been of him to put this off. Sure, you and Spencer were completely different, but you fit into his life perfectly. He could already tell the team loved you, and knew you’d be a part of all of their lives for years to come.

~~~

When you got home after a long night of talking at the bar, you were surprised to immediately be pulled into a kiss by your boyfriend. When he finally pulled away from you, your could only laugh before you spoke.

“What was that for?”

“Doctor Agent Super Genius.” Was his answer, before he pecked your lips one more time.

“Oh yeah? Did you like the song?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“I loved it. Although, you got something wrong.” You laughed lightly, expecting him to correct some grammar or fact from the song. “Falling in love with you wasn’t stupid. It’s the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” You beamed before kissing him this time, pouring all of your love into it as best you could.

“But you were right about me knowing everything. Especially in between the sheets. Care to let me prove it?” He said once you pulled away. 

You happily let him prove his genius all night.

~~~

taglist: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac @andreasworlsboring101 @rexorangecouny @rosyskies

[chancelloramidala]

Staring at the Sun ➤ Evan Buckley

Chapter Five: Growing Pains.

Masterlist.

Marceline Pierce was trying her very hardest to move on from Evan Buckley. It sucked because yeah, maybe this should’ve happened long ago when it was obvious that he didn’t return her affections, but hey at least she’s learning.

She got tired of waiting, of being filled with sadness and jealousy whenever Abby was brought up (especially whenever the subject of "Abby made me a better person!", god that made her blood boil) or whenever she was around.

It made Marceline feel… ugly if that made sense. She didn’t like those feelings brimming at the top of her surface and sort of gave up on her feelings for Buck.

She went on a few dates, finding that the men, women, and non-binary folk she met were just trying to find a one-time thing. And in most cases, Marceline was fine with that, nothing too serious and just a little fun for one night, but she craved something more than a quick interaction like that.

She wanted to get to know someone, figure out what they like and dislike, what they’re allergic to, what drives them to be a good person, and many other things. Marceline wanted a human connection that lasted longer than one night, one that would be reciprocated instead of one-sided.

And that’s how she met Elena Chavez. A beautiful Argentinian-American woman who's easy on the eyes and had the ability to make Marceline actually laugh without trying too hard. They’ve been on a few dates, namely four, and kissed for the first time towards the end of their third.

It was strange for Marceline to be dating again after several years of remaining single and then the several months quietly pinning over a goddamn oaf, but she was proud of herself. She realized that Buck was just never going to love her back in the same capacity she did and decided that she deserved better, even if it wasn’t with him like she initially hoped.

Even if something crucial was just… missing.

Nicolette was ecstatic to see her moving on from Buck. She even helped set up many of Marceline’s failed dates, but she was glad that Marceline was leaving her options open to people other than Buck. Nic has spent the better half of her days listening to her best friend go on and on about her unrequited love for Evan Buckley, and watched her cry when he attended her get-well-soon party with his new girlfriend.

Plus, it helped Marceline think Elena was actually there for her when she watched the other woman interact with Gemma and Nic. Because if there was anything you had to know about Marceline Pierce was that her friends and somewhat co-parentship to Nicolette and Gemma Pierce were an added deal into dating her.

And after the sixth date, Marceline worked up the courage to introduce Elena to another set of important people in her life: her team. Even if they didn’t know they were that important to her.

“Hey, guys, uh,” Marceline cleared her throat at the table whilst Bobby laid out the food with the help of Chimney and Buck. “Can I talk to you?”

“Hm?” They all turned their attention to her, and at that moment she kinda wanted to disappear.

“So,” she pressed her lips into a thin line as she recalled the dialogue she made up last night. “I know I haven’t been the most… open person here with my personal life, but I do consider you to be people I hold very close to my heart.“ she paused for a moment, her green and brown eyes glancing around the table to find they were all looking at her with soft expressions and a small smile tinged on their lips. ”So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce you all to my girlfriend?”

“Of course,” Bobby nodded without any hesitation and smiled softly at Marceline for taking a step at opening herself up to them.

“Aw, so the Ice Queen does have a heart.” Chimney jokes, thus earning a smack to the back of his head from Hen. “Hey, hey, I was joking, I’m very excited to meet her, Mars.” He winked at her as he rubbed the back of his head and shot Hen a playful glare.

“Great,” then she checked the watch on her wrist, “she’ll be here any moment. She’s bringing a pie.”

Marceline then led Elena towards the table after she arrived, and gestured to each person as they introduced themselves. “This is my dysfunctional team, El,” she said with a small firm.

Elena smiled brightly at everyone and waved, “It’s great to finally put faces to the names, Mars talks about,”

“Please, sit,” Bobby gestured to the table, specifically at the open spot next to Marceline.

Chimney, ever so the man to break the ice eyed the tin towards the end of the table. “So, what kind of pie did ya bring for us?”

She grinned as pink tinted her cheeks. “I baked you guys some peach pie,”

Bobby was instantly intrigued. “You made it yourself?”

Buck laughed, “We’ll you’ve already sold, Bobby huh?”

“Yes, I’m a baker and owner of Delicate Taste Buds downtown.”

Then, for the majority of the meal, Elena and Bobby exchanged their favorite dessert recipes with Marceline smiling softly at the woman next to her. It didn’t go unnoticed that the two women were holding hands at this point. Their clasped hands could be seen on the table when Elena talked about herself and grew nervous, wanting to make a good impression for the 118. So Marceline carefully reached over and put her hand on Elena’s, and gave it a gentle squeeze

Hen and Chimney whispered conspicuously to one another, smiling at Marceline and Elena’s display of affection and talking about how cute the two women were.

Buck sat there, nodding and listening to Elena talk about herself, and would add his own inquiries every so often. Then his eyes would flicker to Marceline who seemed to be only staring at the woman beside her with this soft, gentle gaze that matched how he felt he looked at Abby.

Evan Buckley never thought he’d see Marceline Pierce like this. So entranced with another being. But perhaps he wasn’t looking hard enough, to begin with.

Because if Henrietta Wilson knew the long, pining gazes of Marceline Pierce, it certainly wasn’t directed to Elena Chavez. While Buck, Bobby, and Chimney were busy talking with Elena, they never caught Marceline staring at Buck with heartbreak in her heterochromatic eyes.

The facade of warmth she thought she was holding together for her own sake slipped whenever she even spared a look to Evan Buckley.

Eventually, Elena had to go stating that she had errands to run and a business to manage. The team gave Elena and Marceline some time to say their goodbyes as they cleaned up from their meal before smirking at the woman as she walked up the twisting stairs.

“What?” she asked, dubious as to why the hell her coworkers were acting so goddamn weird. “Do I have something on my face or…?”

“We’re just happy for you, that’s all.” Bobby cut in before Chimney or Buck could make a fool of themselves.

“Oh,” Marceline replied, dumbfounded at how her team seemed to enjoy Elena’s company. “Well, don’t be too happy,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked over to the sink since it was her turn to wash the dishes.

As she rolled up her sleeves, Buck slid beside her with a red rag in hand. “You wash and I’ll dry?”

For a moment, she eyed the other man strangely, knowing very well that they had a drying rack for this very purpose but whatever, to each their own. “Sure,” she mused before turning the water on.

Silence washed over the two firefighters by the sink, one passing a wet plate or fork the other’s way as they dried it with a dishrag. But just because it was quiet, didn’t mean it was uncomfortable. Marceline and Buck were in sync with each other’s movements, the only sound coming from the splashing of water from the sink or the small squeak from the cloth against a plate.

This gave Marceline a lot of time to think about where she was in her life right now. And the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. In the end, no matter how hard she tried to get over Buck, he would still tug on her heartstrings and linger in the back of her mind, and that was in no way fair to Elena. Even if she was the perfect person to be dating, Marceline had too much shit to work through and Elena didn’t deserve to be used as a distraction of sorts.

(In short, her efforts of shoving her feelings for Evan Buckley into a box locked away deep within her wasn't going so well.)

After they finished washing and drying each and every dish in the sink and the epiphany she was having, Marceline took a blue rag nearby and wiped her hands before turning to Buck. “I think I’m going to break up with Elena,”

“What?” Buck was absolutely floored to hear this because he thought Marceline was head-over-heels with Elena.

She shrugged lamely as she threw the towel onto the counter after she finished drying her hands, “She’s a great person, but… I lack that spark with her, you know?” she turned her head to look at him, curious to know if Buck would understand.

Buck tilted his head to the side for a moment, pondering at the word spark. Because if anything, he’d think that he has that special spark with Abby. She brought the best in him, Buck 2.0 which was the best Buck, so that had to mean something, right? “Yeah,”

But then Abby’s mom died and that spark he thought he had with her started to dwindle when she walked past the glass doors and into the airport.

@skyslowalking @beelarson 4 u <3

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ AUTHOR’S NOTE: we in season two now bitches

[dreams-got-dimmer]

New Girl Pt. 2 (Bolin x reader)

Okay here’s the thing I haven’t seen enough steamy Bolin fanfics yet and while I would rather be reading them, I thought maybe I’ll just write one and help out the others who desperately want to read about their fav thicc earth bender.

Summary: multiple part fic?? + AU kind of

(The reader is 18, Bolin is 18 and mako is 20)

Reader desperately needs a place to live and finds an advertisement for two brothers who need a roommate. Maybe more than just living arrangements may come out of this deal... (reader x Bolin) (slow burn)

Disclaimer: I’m changing the story from first person to second as it would make more sense to the reader. If I ever plan on doing POV for Bolin, which I want to it will be in third person. I know it’s a switch up, but I think the story will flow nicer using second and third opposed to using first

Word count: 2399

Warnings: slight angst?

PART 1 PART 3

“so uh, yeah, this is your room,” Bolin rubbed the back of his neck, “I know it’s not much, but hey it’s something right?” he started to fidget on the balls of his feet.

“So bashful, now are we?” you couldn’t help but notice Bolin’s nervousness now that you two were alone. Mako was only on his break when you had arrived and had to get back to work so he left Bolin to show you where everything was in the loft, especially your room. Red heat started to seep into Bolin’s cheeks at your words. As much as you wouldn’t have minded teasing him more you decided to save him the embarrassment.

“I’m just joking,” a small laugh escaped your lips, “I know how hard it can be to meet someone new, especially when you end up alone together,” started to walk around your new room taking in everything it had to offer, which wasn’t much. But that was the best part about it. It was simple and you could make it your own in no time. The poster wasn’t lying when it said the loft had a view of Air Temple Island. Even being a fire bender, watching the wave push and pull was always calming to you. You could see yourself spending hours just drinking in the sounds of the ocean. You turned back to Bolin and smiled, “You seem pretty outgoing, but I can understand how it can be easier to meet new people when your brother is around,” saying that reminded you of all the times you’ve been on your own meeting new people. Sure, it was going just fine now, but it hasn’t always been this way.

“Y-yeah of course, definitely because my brothers not around, heh,” Bolin went back to rubbing his neck. He didn’t do a great job at assuring you that his brothers’ absence was why he was nervous, but you weren’t going to pry. “Anyway, how do you like the loft. I hope it becomes your home as much as it became mine and Mako’s,” The warmth in Bolin’s cheeks finally started to fade as he smiled at you, “It’s better that I could have ever dreamed of,” you admitted. Your parents house was nothing too extravagant, but it was able to hold you and your family somewhat comfortably. The shelter did it’s best to be welcoming and you couldn’t be more grateful to have a warm place to stay, but it couldn’t beat what you were looking at now. Thinking of the shelter reminded you that there were still items of yours at the shelter. It wasn’t much, but you still didn’t want to leave them behind.

“Do you want to come with me to the shelter so I can pick up the rest of my things?” you changed the subject. Bolin seemed nice, but you weren’t too sure how willing he would be to help you with your things, “I would love to go!” he nearly shouted it, “Then you can tell me more about yourself and I can show you my favorite restaurant,” He broke out into the same smile you saw earlier when Mako agreed that you could move in. It was genuine and precious, and it made your stomach tie in a knot.

Bolin might singlehandedly be the sweetest and goofiest person you had ever met. He insisted on going out to eat first and as you both walked and made it his mission to keep you laughing. The nerves he had before were practically non-existent now. He told you all about pro-bending and even though you’ve been to matches and knew the rules you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything because of how enthused he was to talk to you about it. He even promised to bring you to practice and matches. And even though he was an earth bender he wanted to show you moves you could use in a match and maybe he could even get Mako to show you something too. You happily agreed to everything Bolin offered because 1. It did seem really fun and 2. You couldn’t wait to show Bolin what you were actually capable of with your bending. It’s not like he was trying to be rude, but maybe Bolin assumed you didn’t know how to do much since your parents restricted it. The thing is strict parents cause sneaky kids and you were the sneakiest of them all. You had been sneaking out since the young age of eight and you had learned a lot more than anybody even knew. So, maybe it was a good thing that your parents were that way. If they weren’t you may have never had the knowledge of bending that you have now.

Even though you were going to pick up your things the day was starting to feel like a date. Bolin had brought you to Narook’s, which he happily told you had the best noodles in all of Republic City then proceeded to eat three bowls to himself. You were beside yourself that you had never gone here before. Bolin wasn’t joking that these were the best noodles in all of Republic City and you almost wanted to get mad at him because he just introduced you to your newest money pit. It would be so worth it, though. Especially if you got to have days like this with Bolin. He even refused to let you pay no matter how hard you tried to get the waiter to take your money. If it was a date, you wouldn’t have been angry in the slightest. He was charming you by the second and the way his eyes would shift from jade to emerald within seconds did nothing to stop you from being lost in everything that Bolin was.

The sugary sweet feeling you had in your chest soon turned sour. The feeling wasn’t even caused by the two of you facing the shelter it was what Bolin said that made your insides curdle and all the happiness of the day went numb.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to Korra! She’s the avatar and everything about her is amazing,” he looked at you with lovesick eyes and it made you wish that you were Korra, “She’s beautiful and talented and she’s even on the Fire Ferrets with me and Mako,” a blush crept back onto Bolin’s face and you wanted more than anything that it was you who was making him blush. You wanted to slap yourself in the face for thinking this way. You just met him. He wasn’t anything to you. You tried not to think about how he himself helped you have the best day you’ve had in years, maybe in your life. You’ve been with guys, but none of them have ever made you feel this happy, especially within the first hours of meeting and you and Bolin hadn’t even kissed. You weren’t about to let some boy you just met control your emotions like this, even if he was impossibly adorable.

“I’m thinking of asking her out. I’m just so nervous,” Bolin confessed as he began rubbing the back of his neck, which was oddly attractive by the way. No, stop you can’t keep thinking like that. You tried your best to shake away any thoughts of jealously and the minute attraction you had for the earth bender, “you’re a girl, what would be the ideal date for you?” He pleaded as his lip jutted out into a pout. You gulped. If it wasn’t bad enough that you misread this day so far, this day was the best answer you could give him. Scraping together every ounce of courage you had, you decided to be honest, “My ideal date,” you pretended to muse even though you didn’t even have to utter a single thought to know what it would be, “Honestly just do what you did today and I’m positive she’ll love it,” you breathed out as Bolin’s eyes widen. That was enough honesty for the day. You looked away from him quickly trying to ignore his lips parting.

“We should go get my stuff now,” you shrugged, “There’s not much anyway, so it should be easy,” you didn’t wait for his answer as you rushed into the shelter. Bolin trailed in moments after you and you kept your head down not wanting to talk to him yet. Maybe you just ruined whatever friendship you had with Bolin by telling him the truth. Your thoughts came to a halt as you crashed into something, actually someone.

“Spirits I’m sorry,” you sputtered looking up. You eased when you saw it was just Anzu one of the volunteers at the shelter. Not only that, she also had become one of your close friends during this month stay. The two of you were complete opposites and it was hard to understand how the two of you clicked so well. She was everything you weren’t.  She was perfection and grace. Anzu embodied everything that was ethereal. She was golden and her strawberry blonde hair flowed in a way that made it seem like she was underwater. Anzu grabbed your arms to steady the two of you and began to smile.

“Always so clumsy,” Her laugh tinkled in your ears, “and who is this?” curiosity lined her voice as her eyes shifted to look at Bolin.

“shut it Anzu I am not,” you grumbled crossing your arms, “And this is Bolin he’s my new roommate along with his brother Mako,” happiness spread through you again, “Bolin this is Anzu she’s my best friend, but she also volunteers here,” You motioned between the two and Bolin waved enthusiastically. “No way!” Anzu exclaimed, “You found a place to stay?!” She grabbed a hold of you nearly shaking you, “I’m so so so happy for you. I’m going to miss you, though,” She frowned a bit pulling me into a hug, “Please visit all the time, how am I going to stay sane without you?” you pulled away from each other.

It was a bittersweet feeling because Anzu was right. She had made staying at the shelter bearable and not only that, she had gotten you out trouble too many times to count. She’s even responsible for you being able to stay at the shelter even though you burnt part of the living quarters down out of anger and frustration when you first showed up.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to survive, but I’ll make sure to visit as often as I can,” you assured her.

You both hugged again not really wanting the moment to end, “I’ll let you two get your things, It was nice meeting you Bolin, I hope to see more of you soon,” Anzu breathed out as she glided away down the hall.

You started down the hall thinking about how much you were actually going to miss not seeing Anzu every day. “what happened here?” Bolin stood wide eyed as you approached your room and you didn’t even have to look at what it was, “I did that,” you muttered, glancing at the burnt hallway. Your parents had the audacity to show up at the shelter after a week of staying there. They had more to say about what a horrible monster you were. How they wished you were never born. It was a disgrace to them that a bender was born into their family. The staff was kind enough to force them out of the building, but it only did so much to aid your already broken heart. That interaction was the last straw for you and it precedented the substantial breakdown that caused the burning of half of the bedrooms. No would could get close to you no even Anzu. You had no idea what to feel. It was too much the hate, frustration, and brokenness of it all. It caught up to you and the only outlet you could use was destruction. The next day you apologized profusely to everyone at the shelter and promised that once you started making steady money you would help pay to rebuild that section of the quarters.

“You,” he paused, “Did that?” Bolin was in utter disbelief. You were desensitized to the area having to look at it for the past weeks, his words made you look at it with fresh eyes. There was no denying that it was a gruesome sight. Most of the walls were charred through and there were tarps to keep the outside elements from getting in. All the furniture was pretty much disintegrated and looking at it too long just made your stomach sick, “can we just get my things?” you pleaded feeling small, “I don’t really want to talk about it,”.  You pushed your door open and before you could take a look for the last time at the place you had been staying, Bolin pulled you into a hug. He bowed his head into the crook of your neck and let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry for whatever happened,” He drew back and looked at you earnestly, “Me too,” his hug felt like warmth and hot tea on a bad day. He was surprisingly gentle for how muscled he was and even if you didn’t want it to end you plastered a smile on your face, “Let’s get my things so we can get the hell out of here,” You motioned towards you room. It didn’t take long to gather your extra clothes and odds and ends and before you knew it you were spending your first night in the loft. You looked out at the ocean and let the sounds of the tide help you mull over what happened during the day. You were able to close a chapter in your life that you didn’t think was going to end and as for Bolin he was your roommate and hopefully friend and you weren’t going to jeopardize that just because there was some semblance of attraction for him. Besides, he seemed to really like Korra and that’s what mattered, not the inconsequential feelings you might have for Bolin. You were sure you’d wake up in the morning and the tiny crush would dissipate, for you had bigger things to worry about, like finding a job and actually making friends with Bolin and Mako instead of pining over them.

-------

a/n: wow guys I'm amazed at myself that I have written this much. But if you have made it this far thank you! I wanted to do a slow burn for this fic and it’s actually a lot harder than I thought, but I am trying my best. I’ve never really wrote fiction before so if you guys have any advice on how to improve my writing, please let me know! again thank you so much for reading this far (: I hope to see you again soon 

-S

Taglist:

​ @yellowoctvber @doubtedbus409

[distractedhistotech]

Lewis Joins the Gang (Again)

As usual, Arthur was the first to wake up.  He felt like he’d taken too much pain medication before going to bed and…there was something on top of him that was not Vivi or Mystery.  It felt smooth and warm.  He sat up.  “What.” He stared at the pile of purple ghosts covering him, Vivi, and Mystery.  On a purple bed.  In…a large room.  It looked like the entrance room of a mansion.

Wait, wait, wait…He was starting to remember.  “Uh, ghost guy, you there?”  Arthur started shaking Vivi.  “Hey, hey, Vivi.  Wake up. Something crazy.  And ghosty.  And maybe cursy.  And I think you’ll need to drive today.”  He picked up one of the Deadbeats.  “Why are you not scaring me?”

Vivi groaned.  “Five more minutes.”

“You are literally covered in ghosts,” Arthur said as he attached his prosthetic.

Vivi almost immediately shot up.  “Oh my gosh! They’re so cute!”  She started scratching one on the top of its head.  “Yes, you are, yes you are.”  She paused.  “Hey, where are we?”

“Haunted house,” replied Arthur.

Vivi blinked.  “Huh.  Why don’t I remember that?”

“Ghost guy said…” Arthur paused and looked around.  “Actually, where is he?”  One of the ghosts popped up holding a pretty blue heart with orange filigree all over it.  “Huh. Why does that seem familiar?”

“Hm…”  Vivi picked up the heart.  “Why is the color-”

Vivi was interrupted when purple fire shot out of the heart and formed a familiar ghost.  Well, familiar to Arthur anyway.  “Hey, ghost guy.”

Lewis blinked.  “Uh, hey.”

“Whoa!  You look so cool!” crowed Vivi.

Lewis blushed a little.  “R-really?”

“Yeah, the suit, and the skull, and the fire, it’s awesome!” said Vivi.  She frowned.  “Uh, did you do something to our memories?”

Lewis quickly held his hands up.  “Not on purpose!  I tried to introduce myself, but whenever I said my name, you passed out and forgot stuff!”

Vivi frowned.  “Maybe it’s a safeguard?  Knowing someone’s true name can give you power over them…”

“But I really wanted to tell you my name!” protested Lewis.

“And we appreciate that, but given the side effects, you probably shouldn’t,” mused Vivi.

“And-and there was that other thing,” said Lewis.  “See?” Lewis put his glamour back on.  “This is supposed to be what I looked like when I was alive, and that’s what I see when I look in the mirror, but Artie said that’s not what I look like!”

Both humans winced. “Oof, yeah, that’s not a human face,” agreed Vivi.  “Could you…” Lewis dropped the glamour.  “Thanks.  Okay, that makes less sense.  Glamours are specifically for blending in.”  Vivi hummed in thought for several moments.  “This could take a while to figure out…But we need to get to Techno Con.”

Lewis blinked.  “Techno Con?”

“I’ve got a booth there to show off my prosthetics,” explained Arthur.  “And I’m hoping to pick up a few new things myself.”

“Oh, congratulations,” said Lewis as an idea started to occur to him.  “But…Maybe…If it’s a not a problem, I could go with you.  Then you’d have plenty of time to figure out what’s wrong.”

Arthur’s mouth fell open in shock and nervousness.  Vivi thought a moment.  “That’s a tempting offer, but I have some concerns.”  She pointed at Arthur.  “Firstly, Arthur has to agree.”

Lewis nodded.  “Of course.”

“Secondly, how do we know you won’t try to kill us or drain our energy?” pointed out Vivi.

“I could’ve done that while you were sleeping,” pointed out Lewis.  He paused.  “Not that I would!”

“Hm…”  Vivi nodded.  “Good point.  Secondly, why would you want to come with us?  Most ghosts are tethered to a place.”

Lewis winced.  “I didn’t want to stay there.”

Vivi winced.  “Ah.  Sorry.”

“And…I was lonely,” admitted Lewis.  “I don’t want to be alone.”

“What about these guys?” asked Arthur, holding up a chirping Deadbeat.

“The Deadbeats are more like cats.  I can talk to them, but they don’t give me a response,” explained Lewis.  “They are my friends, and they helped me stay sane, but I missed being able to talk to people.”  Especially these people.

“Bit of an unusual motive, but I can believe it,” commented Vivi.  “But why us, haven’t you run into other people before?”

“I’ve only been dead for a few months.”  At least Lewis thought it was months.  He hadn’t been able to keep track of time during his trek to civilization.  “And I kind of died in the middle of nowhere, and it turns out it can take a while to find a road if you don’t have a map or compass.”

“I think I saw an episode of Mythbusters about that,” commented Arthur.

Vivi nodded.  “Okay, you want friends, but if you haven’t been dead that long, wouldn’t it make more sense to return home where your friends and family are?  Or are you worried about how they’ll react?” she asked.

“Oh, I actually was on my way home,” said Lewis.  “I just ran into you first, and I figured I could hitch a ride with you since I’m from Tempo too.”

“How do you know we’re from Tempo?” asked Arthur.

“You guys are kind of infamous.  I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in town knew who you were,” explained Lewis.

“True, random strangers will walk up to me and ask me tips about ghosts and stuff,” agreed Vivi. “What about you?  Any chance we’ve ever met before.”

Lewis perked up. “Yeah!  I was a chef at Pepper Paradiso!”

Arthur frowned. “Pepper Paradiso’s a restaurant?” he asked in confusion.

“Yeah, it serves pretty spicy food so you wouldn’t like it,” said Vivi.  It was why she’d never taken him there for a date.

“Huh?  You’ve both been there plenty of times though,” said Lewis.

“Nah, I can’t stand spicy food,” said Arthur.  “If it’s mostly spicy stuff I’d avoid it.”

Oh, this was so much worse than Lewis had thought.  “A-And we went to the same high school!”

“Were we in the same grade?” asked Arthur.

“Uh, I was in the grade below you,” said Lewis.

“Then you might be in some of our yearbooks,” reasoned Arthur.  “Of course we don’t exactly carry those around.”

“Ugh, yeah, and it’s probably been long enough that you can’t look at it online,” muttered Lewis. “I went to Tome Tomb all the time…Why don’t either of you remember me…” Lewis finished sadly.

“Well, in one’s day-to-day life you don’t remember every single person you run into,” pointed out Arthur.

“I’m seven feet tall though!” shouted Lewis, getting frustrated.  “I stood out like a sore thumb!”

“Okay, yeah, that’d be pretty memorable,” agreed Arthur.  “You’d think we’d remember someone like that.”

“Hm…You know, I don’t remember anyone talking about a chef at Pepper Paradiso going missing,” mused Vivi.  “I wonder if any memories were erased from everyone’s minds.”

The thought was so horrifying that Lewis could just stare at them in horror.

“Whoa, that’s a bit of a big leap!” pointed out Arthur.  “I mean it’s weird neither of us have heard about a local giant, but we might just be clueless. Heck, maybe we could call home and ask while we’re traveling.”

“True,” agreed Vivi. “Although even if that’s wrong, I’d like to help this guy.  Something really odd is going on with him.”

Arthur bit his lip and studied the nervous looking Lewis.  He weighed the pros and cons.  He sighed.  “If you can’t disguise yourself, you can’t really go out in public.  You okay with that?”

“Well, I could turn invisible,” pointed out Lewis, doing so for a moment to prove that was a thing he could do.  “If I didn’t let other people know I was around, would that be all right?”

Arthur thought for a moment before sighing.  “As long as you let us know where you are, yeah.”

Vivi gave Arthur a startled look, not expecting him to support this.  Still, if he was okay with it, she wasn’t gonna give up this opportunity to get a ghost teammate who would maybe help them out on investigations and let her study him a bit.  “Okay, so if you and your Deadbeats (Heh, funny name.) agree to behave and stay out of sight, you can travel with us until we got back to Tempo.  Deal?”

“When will you be going back to Tempo?” asked Lewis.

“Well, we have like 8 days funds, but depending on if we earn anything we might travel around a bit longer,” explained Arthur.

Lewis was familiar with this traveling plan, so he nodded.  “It’s a deal.”

“Great!  Now we should probably head out,” said Vivi.  “We don’t want to fall too far behind in our plans.”

Lewis nodded.  “Sure thing.”  He then proceeded to collapse the entire house into fire and absorb it into his anchor.  He paused as he saw the other three staring at him in shock.  “Uh, did I forget to mention I could do that?”

“Yes,” squeaked Arthur.

“Oops.”  Lewis chuckled nervously.  “Well, yeah, I can make houses.  And other stuff.”  He coughed nervously somehow.  “So, that’s your van, right?  I’ll just go settle into the back.”  He zoomed off.

Arthur turned to Vivi. “I feel like we might’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”

Vivi shrugged.  “Well, nothing we can do now.  Wanna go grab some waffles?”

“Hm…I’d rather just have some yogurt and fruit.  Not that hungry,” said Arthur as they walked back to the van.

[hauntedflxwers]

Two People You Never Piss Off

Or as I like to call it: Luka rips Lila a new one

This is the first story I’m posting on here and it’s very Lila bashing and takes place after the season 3 finale has happened so spoilers!!!! just in case

Word count: 2965

With all that out of the way, I hope any of y’all who read it enjoy it!

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Luka sat some distance away from his sister and her friends, perfectly content to listen to them having fun while he played his guitar and watched. Something nagged at his mind, however: he recognised everyone there - Juleka, Rose, Alix, Mylene and Alya - except one girl. With two ugly sausages on the side of her head - he really had no clue what type of aesthetic she was reaching for with those, but either way she failed miserably - and a meek expression on her face as she spoke that seemed too carefully crafted to feel real, he could already hear what sort of melody he associated with her. It was sour and impure, a garbled mess of everyone else’s melodies and, quite frankly, it made him feel a little bit queasy. 

That wasn’t the main problem, however. He couldn’t help but be painfully aware of Marinette’s absence, and the way no one seemed to care about it either. Ever since Chloe had been akumatized on her parents’ anniversary, he’d been worried for her. He’d spoken with Juleka a few days after Ladybug had set everything back to normal, and he’d asked her if she’d noticed whether something was wrong with Marinette. Her answer hadn’t been very assuring. 

“Well,” he remembered her starting, dragging out the word as she thought. When she spoke again, her words had been slow and careful. “Marinette has had something against Lila since she came back from Achu, and she never normally hates someone that much. She keeps saying she’s lying but whenever she does Alya just dismisses her and says that she’s just jealous because Lila is close to Adrien. I always thought that was a bit weird, because she helped Adrien go on that date with Kagami even though it hurt her, but that’s not the point. I don’t know if Lila did something to her, but I think Marinette has a point, even if Alya would kill me for saying that - I mean, she knows Jagged Stone personally.” Juleka looked out of the window nervously before continuing. 

“But ever since Chloe and her parents got akumatized, she’s been acting really strange. It’s almost like she’s mourning someone, she’s been that upset. Whenever we ask her to hang out she either blows us off because she’s so busy or she comes but she ends up on her own. Alya asked her why she was so upset once and she just said she’d lost something important. Alya assumed it was because Adrien and Kagami were getting closer. But Rose thought she meant she’d lost something valuable, like an earring or something.”

Since then, he’d seen Marinette once or twice when he had to deliver something to the bakery. Every time, she seemed well. Happy, but reserved. Her melody was more subdued, but it also seemed more mature, like she herself had had an experience that made her wiser. It was unusual, but he’d just been happy that she’d been handling herself well. 

So seeing her friends without her, he was inclined to believe that she was just busy again. He was also inclined to believe that the sausage-girl was the Lila that Juleka told him Marinette didn’t like. The girl who could be lying. He focused on his guitar again and began to strum Marinette’s new melody softly. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he was interrupted by someone holding their hand out to him and quietly saying, “Hi.” He let his final chord finish playing before he looked up to see Lila in front of him, a warm albeit nervous smile on her face. “I’m Lila, and you must be Juleka’s brother Luka. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Before he replied, she scooped up the skirt beneath her legs and sat next to her, making a point to flash him another smile. “The others have just gone to go and get some stuff, but they were so considerate of my arthritis that they told me to just wait up here so I didn’t injure myself! So I thought I’d come and introduce myself to you.”

As unpleasant as her melody was, he didn’t have any reason to distrust or dislike her yet, so he pushed those feelings aside in favour of watching her very carefully. “Well it’s nice to meet you too, Lila. Although, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

She laughed with a wave of one hand. It was a pleasant, bubbly sound but there was something slightly off about it that he couldn’t place. “That’s because you haven’t seen me here before. See, Juleka has invited me here a lot but I’ve always been so busy fundraising or talking with leaders of charities or catching up on schoolwork I’ve missed while away for my mama’s business that this is the first time I’ve been able to accept it,” she explained. Immediately he noticed that she was someone who spoke with her hands, gesticulating and gesturing in random directions to make her explanations seem larger. Whether it was natural or something she’d learned to manipulate people, he wasn’t sure. She hadn’t done anything to indicate she was lying yet. 

He tried to hide his skepticism as he spoke, opting for a neutral, “Well, I’m glad you could make it this time, Lila. I’m sure you must have been upset to miss those first few times.”

Her face dropped and she gathered her hands in her lap, staring down at them pointedly as she replied, her voice quivering as she spoke. “Oh, I was really upset about it, but Juleka and the others were so nice about it, they didn’t even get mad when I told them I already had plans. You’re so lucky to have Juleka as a sister, you know. I’d kill to have someone as understanding as her in my family, but you know how it as an only child - you can only emulate those sorts of relationships. It makes me sort of envious of you and Juleka. You guys have always had that, while I’m going to have to search for someone who will trust me the same way I would.” Then she looked up at him, eyes going wide as if she realised she’d done something wrong. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry for unloading on you like that, especially when we don’t know each other that well!”

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, despite the conflicting feelings in his chest. On one hand, if she was genuine, he knew he would feel sympathy for her - a mixture of guilt due to inadvertently upsetting her and worry due to how scared she was of upsetting him - but if she was a liar like Marinette said, he knew he would be furious with her for trying to manipulate him into feeling bad, probably to butter him up for a lie. Both mindsets fought the other. “We all have something we need to take off our chest sometimes.”

She sniffled, head in hands before she looked up, cheeks pink and eyes wet around the edges and stared up at him for a moment before her face split into a wide grin and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, thank you Luka!” she hiccupped, tightening  her hold on him. “How can I repay you for being so kind and understanding?”

“Repay?” he asked. Where was she going with this?

“Well, you- you like Jagged Stone, don’t you? I could get you a ticket to his next concert!” she offered, pulling away and clasping her hands in front of her chest. Her voice was hopeful. “It wouldn’t be hard!”

His gut squirmed as he contemplated what to do next. This is it, Luka, he thought. This is where you find out whether she’s lying or not. “How would you do that? I don’t want you paying money just because I listened to you rant about your feelings.”

“It’ll be no trouble at all!” Lila waved him off, her change in mood a little jarring. “I don’t know whether Juleka told you or not already, but Jagged loves me - I’m like his . honorary daughter! He even wrote a song for me once!”

“Really? What song?” There was something suspicious about the way she paled. “If you say it, I’ll know which one you’re talking about.”

“Well,” she spluttered, picking at her nails sheepishly. “I said he wrote a song for me,  but I didn’t mean he published it. It would seem a bit weird to praise a 15 year old girl…”

“Actually, that depends on what he’s praised you for,” he countered. “Jagged Stone loved Marinette’s designs so much that he wouldn’t stop promoting her for another two months at least, but no one thought it was weird because he praised her designs, not her. Was he praising you for something you did or was it in a creepy, ‘this random girl is nice, she’s a minor, I’m an adult’ way?”

“I’m guessing Juleka didn’t tell you then?” she asked forcefully, eyes darting to where Juleka and her friends had gone. He shook his head and her shoulders tensed. “Well,” she dragged the word out as her melody began to go even more sour in the back of his mind. “Well, he made the song for me because I did something for him.”

“What did you do?” he asked curiously. “It must have been something dangerous if Jagged has had to keep quiet about it though, because he’s never mentioned you before on any of his social media.”

“I saved his pet from being run over at an airport once,” Lila admitted after what felt like ages, getting visibly nervous - tapping her foot against the floor and hunching her shoulders so that she was smaller, both of which were red flags for him. “My mama and I were on our way to another country for her work and I saw his pet nearly get run over by a plane so I saved it. I’ve had really bad tinnitus ever since.” As if to prove a point, she cupped her left ear with both hands and whimpered slightly. “It hurts, but I’m trying to be brave for everyone.”

“That doesn’t make sense though,” he mused out loud, watching as Lila froze. “Jagged loves Fang so much that he would never let him get anywhere close to somewhere he could be run over, so unless Fang escaped this would have never happened.”

“No, no!” Lila interrupted him hastily, waving both hands in front of her. “It wasn’t Fang, it was his kitten.”

He blinked in disbelief, then any sympathy he had for her was lost. She really had been lying to him and Juleka this entire time, without a care in the world. He took a deep breath before he said anything rash. Once he was calm, he continued. “Jagged is allergic to kittens, he said so in one of his interviews.”

“This was before he realised!”

“He said in his interview he found out about his allergies before he was an adult, and I’m pretty sure you weren’t born early enough to save his cat while he was a teenager.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no reason to lie to me, Lila. Not if it’s just to impress me.”

“I’m not lying!” she protested, voice raising in volume. “I don’t know why you’re attacking me like that!”

He shuffled away from her, raising his hands in the air to prove a point. “I’m not attacking you, Lila. I told you that you shouldn’t have to lie to impress me, that’s all. I’d much rather know the real Lila over the Lila who lies about Jagged Stone.”

“Oh, why do you care so much?” she snapped, meek demeanor disappearing. “It’s one lie!”

“Yeah, and that’s one lie you’ve told my sister, her classmates and Marinette. For all I know, you could have told more,” he countered evenly, struggling to contain his anger. “I’m pretty sure you were on the Ladyblog as well, with an interview about Ladybug being your best friend. Was that a lie too?”

“It’s only what Alya wanted to hear!”

“People want you to tell the truth, not get their hopes up.” He stared her down. “I want my sister to know that everything she’s being told is genuine. I want her friends to know that everything you say is the truth-”

“They all think it’s the truth anyway,” she hissed. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is you’re lying,” he said cooly. “And if you’re reacting like this to me knowing, god knows how you reacted to Marinette knowing.”

“It’s always about Marinette, isn’t it?” Lila all but yelled at him. Her eyes glared daggers at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I bet with your crush on her, she convinced you into believing I lied and you just went along with it, didn’t she?”

“Of course she didn’t. Marinette doesn’t like liars but she’s not cruel like that. I drew my own conclusions based on your inconsistencies. Besides, if Marinette wanted people to know you were a liar, she’d go about it in a way you wouldn’t expect her to. She’s not dumb.”

“Of course she’s not dumb!” Lila shot back. “If she’s smart enough to see through my lies she can’t be as dumb as this class! It’s why she’s so annoying!”

He folded his arms. “I’m guessing Ladybug doesn’t like you either?”

“How the hell do I know?” Lila shrugged viciously, expression getting more and more sour by the second. “She’s a bloody superhero, she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve! I don’t even know if she has one! She has a brain where her heart is and a cavity in her head that makes her dangerous, because she could hate me and I’d never know because it’s stuck in her stupid head and not on her face! All I know is that she hasn’t called me out yet and every time she sees me she just encourages me to be honest instead of yelling at me, like she realised her mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Doesn’t matter. But no, we’re not friends. There, you happy?” She was so angry that it was almost amusing, but he shoved that feeling down. “I hate her, she ruined my chances with Adrien and then gave me a half-assed apology like I was supposed to just accept it? Does she think I’m an idiot?”

“What you’re missing, Lila is a crucial piece of advice if you’re going to continue playing this stupid game.” He ran his fingers over the strings of his guitar as Lila opened her mouth, then closed it, then glared at him expectantly. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re an idiot or not. There are two people in this world that you never piss off.”

“And who would those people be?”

“I think you already know,” he smiled in vindication at the way her expression fell. “But just in case, I’ll remind you. There are two people you never piss off, and they’re Ladybug and Marinette.”

“And why might that be?” Lila was tense as she waited for his answer, eyes darting to and fro. They both knew Juleka could return at any moment. “What’s so special about them?”

“Ladybug has her mind, her Lucky Charm, her word and Chat Noir on her side, while you don’t even have your own word, you just have a reporter who blindly follows you, but even she’ll believe Ladybug over you. Marinette is your class representative, it wouldn’t be hard for her to expose you, especially considering she can contact Jagged Stone whenever she wants.”

“She can?” Lila spluttered. “But she’s a minor! Isn’t that illegal?”

“Not when it’s purely professional, or when his number is on her parents’ phones, or when her parents consented to it.” Lila paled. “Besides that, Marinette is as smart as Ladybug, maybe even smarter. If she wanted to, it would probably only take a day for her to take you down, like you did when she nearly got expelled, except she knows how to cover her tracks.”

At that, Lila scowled. “They still believed it.”

He shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, it was circumstantial at best, you just had so many disabilities people had to cater to that there was no way you could have stolen the papers, or planted the necklace to anyone who didn’t know. Besides, if they believed that, who’s to say they wouldn’t believe Marinette if she did the exact same thing to you, but with real, indisputable proof?”

“They haven’t believed her yet!”

“They haven’t, I’ll admit it, but what has Marinette done to you besides say you’re lying? She hasn’t even begun to gather evidence because she’s playing nice, god knows why.” Lila swallowed at that. Then her eyes widened as she looked past his shoulder. 

“Well, I hate to cut this short,” she said, gritting her teeth into a smile. “But Juleka and her friends are back, so I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Luka.” She stood up hurriedly, brushing any dirt off her skirt before she hurried over to his sister and her group of friends.

“It was nice meeting you Lila,” he murmured with a smile, knowing he’d won. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he returned to playing Marinette’s melody, noting somewhere in the back of his mind how similar it was to the one that played in the back of his mind when he met Ladybug when Desperada attacked as the sun shone across his face. 

There were two people he knew to never piss off, and their melodies were so similar he knew exactly why that was the case.

[georgemackayhey]

More Than A Night Out

warning: Explicit content 18+ Only

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat behind the roped off a section of a smoke-filled bar in one of Vegas' most hectic hotels, sporting a fancy dress and feeling a bit anxious.

"I'm George. And you're who I'm supposed to be introducing myself to, right?" He stood leaning in close before you clad in a casual leather jacket with his hands shoved in his pockets. Reading body language had become a much more important part of this job than you'd once figured. But there was a difference between assessing and staring. And you had to catch yourself on the edge of openly gawking at the lean beauty who called himself George.

"Yes, yes, thanks for sparing some time for a chat." You smiled warmly, scooting to the corner of the curved red vinyl booth. George let his nervous grin flicker into a warmer expression as he slid in to meet the opposite corner of the table.

You were a writer for an independent magazine based out of New York. Your publisher had sent you all over America to interview all kinds of talented people of current pop culture. You were used to celebrities and their lingo, and you were used to the pseudo niceties these interviews came along with. After answering your questions with nothing but pride, your subjects would leave and go on being popular. It was your job to make them seem like normal human beings, with an overload of charm.  

In your lap, a hardback notebook held all your hastily scribbled questions that you thought up in preparation for this moment. You were meant to ask George MacKay how his latest film had changed his life and about his rise to fame. You were supposed to get him to gush about acting and tell you some beautiful antidote no other interview had managed to hear the likes of. Your job tonight was to focus on George's latest project, 1917. But George asked the first question.

"So you've been doing this a while, huh?" The man with sky blue eyes asked. A waiter had breezed by, sliding a list of drinks for you pair to choose from.

"I only ask because the bio in your email was like, really impressive. I don't know if I'm worthy." George laughed, gazing at the beer list as you shrugged. You had conducted conversations with the likes of many old, jaded stars. Tonight was different. A young, spirited man sat across from you and his eyes were shining right into yours. You were completely unworthy.

"Don't worry. I'll only write exactly what you say." You smiled, eyeing the mixed drinks, but only ordering water when the waiter came back by.

"What's been your craziest interview?" George wondered, propping his chin in his hand as he looked to you like a boy in school, and you were a fireman on career day. You laughed out loud, because yes. You laugh because you were supposed to be asking the questions.

"I made Axel Rose cry." You grinned, peeking behind a strand of your hair to ensure this wasn't something you went around telling everyone. "He was the guest during a benefit for our magazine. I asked about his family and he just sort of lost it."

George laughed out loud, beaming at you. So far, this felt more like riffing with an old friend of a friend. You nearly forgot about the list of questions in your lap. But even after you cracked open your notebook, George still had more to say.

"With the right questions, I bet you get a lot of dirt." He rose a pale brow as if there was something he was trying to get you to understand. A code he wished you would crack.

"You should let me ask you a few." You mused, leaning in a little closer to establish your longing to get this show on the road. Not that you wanted the night to end sooner. You could have basked in the glow of his blinding smile for all time. But you were on a clock...

George watched your mouth move as you asked him about 1917. He looked you in the eyes when he told you his favorite memories from set. You watched his hands move around as he explained the impact that acting out such a tumultuous time period had on his personal and professional life. In the lulls in between conversation, when he paused to sip his lager, your eyes met each others. It was by far one of the more enjoyable nights of your career. He was easy to listen to and very lovely to look at.

When the clock struck midnight, and your notebook was filled with more information than you'd even consider finalizing, the night ended. With smiles and genuine thanks, you parted from the grotty Vegas bar. But as you made your way through the casino, you turned back to see George lingering near the elevators, watching you disappear into the crowd.

___

Up in your luxurious room, too nice for someone to stay in all alone, you checked your phone. You had a flight to catch in the morning, travel that would put you home right in time for the weekend.

But a dark email loomed at the top of your notification bar. Your flight had been delayed due to weather, a wicked snow storm had taken residence in New York. Seriously, this late in February? The airline had given you a limited few options for later flights, and you slumped on the downy hotel bed, booking the soonest flight out of this trashy city.

Looked like you'd be spending another day hanging around the hotel that felt more like a small city of its own. Luckily, you had something, rather; someone to write that would keep you pleasantly distracted.

___

Last nights silky was totally worth sporting in front of your modern-day movie star crush, but you were glad to be more comfortable this morning. After a long scalding shower, you slipped into reasonable leggings and an old band shirt that was a few sizes too large. This could pass as sporty, right? With thoughts of fashion draining from your head, you grabbed your laptop and started a lazy shuffle toward the lobby of the hotel.

You usually wrote in coffee shops, back home, but the lobby swarmed with tourists was a little too hectic for your liking. Luckily, you wandered to the opposite wing of the lodge and found a relatively cozy nook outside of a casino. It was too early for the swarm of gamblers to distract you with drunken cheers, but the stead buzz of well-groomed patrons coming and going from the bar was white noise music to your ears.

You nestled into a chaise lounge chair by a window and ignored everything besides your laptop screen. There was nothing that could stop you from spending a little too long scrolling through George's fan tag on Instagram. When you finally started to outline the story based on his interview, you were one hundred words from your limit of one thousand, and you still hadn't said everything you wanted. You could have gushed over his polite and charming nature long enough to take up every page of the magazine you worked for.

But you reigned yourself in, reworded for a while, and started to finalize the article when a passer-by disrupted your work for the first time in a couple of hours.

"Is that about me?" It was him.

"Oh my God." You laughed, clutching onto your laptop like an instinct. You were shocked to see George again; dressed in a fine-looking sweater that made your heart buzz with a silly warmth. You cursed your leggings and wondered why you were stupid enough to wear your old thrift store Bowie tshirt in public.

"Can I read it?" George grew a wicked grin, moving to sit at the foot of the chaise you occupied. You scrambled to straighten your poster as your heart speed up in search of an excuse. You really shouldn't let him do that- but you couldn't say no to his sweet face, especially when he was smiling right at you.

"Uh..." You glanced between George and the laptop you'd been staring at for far too long. You realized that you were one spell check away from sending the damn thing in. You pressed the spellcheck button in a flash, so you wouldn't have to lie. But no errors were found, and you were left with zero choice.

"Just know I shouldn't be doing this." You warned, scooting your laptop away with a cringe. George, in all his charm, waggled his brow at you as he leaned in a little closer to read your story. You held your breath at his silly expression and ceased to breathe the entire time his eyes locked onto your laptop screen.

"This..." George spoke up after a very scary bout of silence. He shook his head as his eyes scanned the page on your laptop, and you felt your heart begin to stall.

"You actually, like... listened to what I had to say," George smirked in unmistakable disbelief. "It's so much more than a Q&A. You drew conclusions and made our conversation into a story. It's perfect." George glanced up to you for the first time in a while, and his eyes were searing into yours.

"Geez," You chuckled nervously, digging your nails into the stitching on the cushion below you. "Thank you, George. I never really get feedback like that from anyone I write for." You realized. Sure, you're articles we're promoted by the people featured in them, but they hardly ever had a direct comment on your work.

"When is it coming out?" George wondered, leaning on his elbow, looking up toward you. You leaned toward the laptop that was the barrier between you and the pretty man, but were closer to him than ever before.

"I just have to change the font..." You noted, pressing buttons as you spoke.  "open my email..." George's eyes eventually flickered from your face back to your screen. "and send it in."

"Would you like to do the honors?" You grinned, moving the cursor over the send button on the screen. George gazed back to you with a hearty chuckle but didn't waste much more time before clicking the send button for you.

"And now we wait." You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your waist as the handsome man smiled your way. Oh if you'd only put on a little lipstick...

"How should we pass the time, then?" George wondered in a curious lilt. "Oh, let's go drink one of those thirty-four-ounce margaritas to celebrate. It's the perfect occasion to day drink." Was he kidding? Because you weren't entirely sure if you were being punk'd or not, you tried to hide your wide-eyed reaction as you responded.

"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." You grinned, shutting your laptop.

"If it's any consolation, that bar is empty right now, besides there's a lady asleep in the back in her clothes from last night." George pointed across the way. There we're people flooding the casino and taking their drinks to gamble. There was no way you were about to pass up this opportunity.

In the blink of an eye, you were sitting at a bar top, turned toward each other to share a ridiculously overpriced thirty-four-ounce strawberry margarita out of honest to God silly straws.

"This should actually be illegal."

"Do you remember the prohibition, George?" You laughed, watching the blended ice travel through the purple looped straw as you sipped.

"Of course not." George laughed incredulously. "Just because I lived through the war doesn't mean I'm that old."

"Ha ha." You mused, wondering why it was so easy to be around George. You'd just met him, but from the moment he opened his mouth, it was like you'd been chatting together for years. It was like he saw past the questions you were being paid to ask, and heard you asking them. Maybe just because you really did want to know his answers.

"I want to know what you've lived through," George demanded, taking a turn to drink out his straw from the margarita you'd been sharing. He'd been asking questions like that since you'd met him, and your chest blossomed with nerves as he peered up at you through his lashes. In your nervous scramble to give George an answer, your brain settled on a story about the first time you met Will Smith.

"Wait, wait, wait." George broke away from his green silly straw and held a dismissive hand out in front of you.

"We're off the record now, y/l/n. I want to know the real shit! Ya know, the last time you cried. Your Chipoltle order." George was waving his hands as if his questions were obvious. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back and relishing the moment you realized how lucky you were to be living in this moment.

So you reluctantly told him some things. You couldn't justify giving your best details away, but you liked the idea of a stranger knowing you the worst thing you did in second grade, and a silly trademark your family coined. George kept his brilliant gaze set on you, and you could almost see your own stories coming to life in his eyes. He was actually listening to you.

The focus on you was becoming a bit too overwhelming, so you shifted to ask George a few more questions, tipsy enough to pry for a few of the same antidotes George had asked you for. After laughing over a few fun facts about his hometown and the time he ran away from his mum in the supermarket, you both settled into silence. You were busy trying to compute how wild this afternoon had turned.

"How long are you staying?" He asked after a beat. When he caught your attention, you realized he'd never lost it and you'd been staring at him like you longed to do last night.

"Oh uh-"

"I was gifted tickets to one of those Cirque shows and my friend's flights got canceled.. So... I thought maybe... you'd wanna..."

"I... sure." You sit up straight, trying to bite back the cheesy grin on your face. You weren't sure how you ended up here in Vegas, sharing a drink with a stunning boy, but you thanked your lucky stars as George went one telling you the details he'd roped you into tonight.

___

The storm in New York had only gotten worse, as you scrolled through updates on your cities local website. Your flight was supposed to take off tomorrow morning, but the storm hadn't let up since the last flight got canceled. You decided now wasn't the time to worry, and went about tearing through your suitcase praying you'd find something nice enough to wear.

You exchanged room numbers, agreeing to meet up at George's tonight. You had more than enough time to get ready but still scrambled to present yourself as perfectly as possible. Agreeing to a night out with George was as lucky as you'd ever been.

After shimmying into a pretty outfit and fixing your makeup just right, your phone buzzed with a notification. Your editor had sent you the final edit of the story you'd written for George, praising you for a job well done. You couldn't help but giggled as you skipped down the hall on the way to George's room, three stories higher.

"Hello, love! You look wonderful." George smiled wide as he opened the door, gesturing for you to come in. His single room was much like yours, a living area and kitchen big enough to house a family, and a bedroom off down the hall. Vegas confounded you.

You rested your room key on a desk near the door and watched George slide into a sharp blue jacket, bringing out the shine of his matching eyes. God, how did he get better looking by the minute?

He escorted you from his suite with a coy grin as if your outing was scandalous.

"Your interview should be published next week. My editor loves it." You informed, walking in step with George to the elevators.

"Of course they do, you're an incredible writer." George pulled a face as if this were a fact everyone knew. You pushed the elevator button with a roll of your eyes, unsure how to handle his outlandish flattery.

"All because of the answers you gave me. You're an incredible subject." You fawned, feeling brave enough to in one fleeting moment.

"Then we make the perfect pair," George smirked at you, keeping his eyes on yours as you passed into the elevator doors. Your legs must have figured out how to move on their own because you felt a bit stunned still by the look in George's eye after his soft comment.

The Cirque show was just across the street in another hotel. But because Vegas was insane, it took you a solid fifteen minutes to cross between traffic and a packed hotel lobby to get to the venue inside. By the time you and George settled into your seats, you felt all too unworthy of what was happening.

"Thanks again for bringing me along. I don't know how I got so lucky." You huffed a nervous laugh, trying not to openly swoon over how close you were to the boy. His leg was just barely far enough away from brushing against yours, and you were meant to sit there like it was totally cool for the next hour.

"Trust me, I'm the lucky one." George nodded, turning his head toward the stage as the lights went dim. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and during the first few minutes of the show, all you could truly focus on was how close George was to you. You felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, and reprimanded yourself for letting your feelings get this way.

But halfway through the show, something astounding happened. It was more thrilling than all the acrobatics and dance numbers happening on stage before you. George let his fingers bloom across your palm before they fit perfectly between yours. He sat holding your hand with his eyes fixed on the show, while you tried to keep from melting off the seat into a puddle.

The show ended and you walked out of the theater together, quietly flooding out into the street that was somehow busier than before.

"Thanks for that. I've only been to Vegas for work and have never had time to do the cheesy trashy fun bits."

"Me either." George looked to you and you could tell he was brewing some idea behind his sparkling eyes. Just then, his full name was called out from somewhere beyond your shared gaze. That's when you realized you were still holding his hand. You took a step back, untangling your fingers when you realized a group of drunk college students were excitedly asking for George's photo. You watched from a few steps away and swallowed the silly blooming crush you couldn't shake. What happens in Vegas stayed, right? Maybe you were both just blinded by the ancient ideal.

But when the fans disbanded, George didn't waste a beat slipping his hand back into your grasp.

"Let's go have some fun." He waggled his brow the same as he had hours ago, smirking all the while.

You proceeded to drink and laugh and gamble and dance into the early morning. Your evening became a blur of flashing neon lights and booming bass notes. Even in your alcohol-fueled daze, you fully felt George's fingers linger on your shoulder as he led you to and from the dance floor. His touch was warm and steady and the only thing that made sense in the night full of fast-paced fun you had no time to process.

On the walk back to the hotel, reality threatened to seep in as your feet burned in your heels. When you realized you left your room key in George's room, you felt no shame in taking your heels off and walking the hotel carpet with a little more ease. "I'm all for a movie night in but that was so much fun."

"Me too. Let's have a movie night next." George grinned, wasted as you were.

"Yes!" You fawned in exhausted excitment.

He led you into his room where your room key sat waiting where you'd left it. But the thought of walking one more step made you want to cry. So you asked if George minded if you sat for a moment; settling on the tiny loveseat giving your feet a break and talking yourself into the last bit of walking toward your room.

Yeah, big mistake. Before you knew it, you were totally passed out there and slept soundly on the sofa in a room that wasn't yours. When you woke up and noticed your shoe's near George's by the door you felt so embarrassed for having crashed like that, your weak hangover trumped by shame.

"Shit." You mutter, quietly moving to sneak toward the door. Your cellphone rested on the counter next to your room key. But as you reach for your things, you hear George shuffle into the room. He's dressed for a new day in a plain button-up and suit jacket.

"Oof, I'm really sorry for falling asleep." You cringed, grabbing your room key, a little afraid to look right in George's eye.

"It's alright really." He nodded. "It was so late, I don't know how you slept on that little thing. But  I didn't want to move you and make it weird." George kind of grimaced, hoping his comment wasn't as equally unwelcome as he seemed to think the action might have been. "I'm sorry you don't have to leave just yet."

"I have a flight, actually." You frowned suddenly, wishing you didn't have to leave this place you hated a day ago. But as you unlocked your phone to make sure you weren't too late, there we're a slew of emails from your flight agency, canceling your morning commute again.

"And now I don't have a flight."

George's phone seemed to buzz to life at the same moment, it was a new day after all. He glanced at his notifications frowning the same as you just had.

"Well I was going to invite you to breakfast but I've got another meeting added to my list of a ridiculous amount of things to do today." George sighed.

You knew the fun would have to come to an end sooner rather than later, he was a busy guy, an increasingly important, beautiful, busy guy. And you were stuck in Vegas all over again, without much to keep you occupied from how much you'd grown to love it here, just a little.

"Maybe we can have that movie night if I get back early enough." George smiled, leaning over to retrieve his shoes from the doormat. You couldn't believe George had remembered your off the cuff remark from early this morning, but somehow his comment felt more like a raincheck, than an invite. And whether you were hungover or paranoid, you couldn't tell.

So you took the cue to gather your things, opting to carry your shoes and stood in the doorway.

"You know where to find me, then." You offered, too afraid of agreeing right off and seeming too desperate to spend more time with him. You wished George good luck with all his movie star duties for the day and sulked on the long walk back to your shitty matching room.

___

Your day was spent ordering room service, exhausted by the idea of going back out and about in all the madness that made up Vegas. You scrolled through a measly list of flights to take, opting to stay another night and hoping the storm would pass soon. Soon, the sun was setting and after a long bubble bath, you slipped into your favorite pair of pj's, planning to listen to some podcasts to make the most of this evening. But just as you finished cleaning up, a knock came at your door. You hadn't ordered more room service, and there was a sign dangling from your door handle warning away the maids.

You were surprised to find George on the other side of your door, looking happy to see you. You honestly hadn't expected to see him again, you thought your luck had run its course. And you spent the whole day trying not to reminisce over the way you'd grown more comfortable near each other as the night went on.

You greeted him with a smile, comfortable enough in your pj's when you noticed he was wearing joggers now, too.

"You shed the suit?" You laughed.

"I figured if we're having a movie night I better dress for the occasion," George smirked. You hung your head to hide your blush and opened the door wider for him to come in all the way.

Okay, so maybe you had failed to plan this far ahead, but you hardly cared what happened next. You and George floated to the sofa in front of the television, and he reached for the remote.

“Have you memorized the tv guide yet?” George prodded as you sat next to him, leaving a sliver of space for good measure.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been far too busy running around the city this weekend.” You smiled, turning your gaze toward the television, too skittish to meet George’s baby blue eyes this close up.

He clicked his tongue as if to say “what a shame” all while flipping through channels. He landed on Hallmark, tossing the remote down ceremoniously. You couldn’t help but laugh as the movie seemed to just begin.

“Is that Betty White?” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome.” George boasted over getting lucky finding this film queued up perfectly for the two of you on this spontaneous night. You spent a little bit laughing over the cheesy musical flares and dramatics that made up every great Hallmark film, this one included. But as the film played on, you couldn’t help but notice the bits of genuinely good storytelling peeking through.

George kept you laughing throughout the film, but near the end, both of you got quiet and watched in silence until the credits rolled.

“Damn. That was actually just a little bit good.” George spoke up, a little quiet. That’s when you noticed how close he’d gotten to you. The sliver of space you’d left at the beginning of the movie was now barely noticeable.

“Yeah.” You laughed, amazed by more than just the film. “This whole weekend has been surprisingly wonderful.” You spoke softly, daring to glance right at George, who had already fixed his eyes on you.

You couldn't tell who made the first move but the next thing you know, you're kissing him. You and George took turns sharing feather-light pecks, each of you chasing each other kiss after one ended. George was definitely the first to place both strong hands around the back of your head and kiss you like he meant it. You were nearly too stunned to kiss him back, but once you started the floodgates broke off their hinges and there was no turning back. You climbed into his lap and latched on for all it was worth because surely this was a dream and you weren't ready to wake up at all.

You savored the steady build of his fingers trailing down your arms while your kisses grew deeper, mouths pushing against each others like you’d been doing this for ages. Your hands had a mind of their own, creeping softly under the hem of George’s soft tshirt to his hot skin below.

"Hey," George gently broke your kiss and cupped your face in both hands. You practically held your breath as his shimmering eyes searched yours. "You okay with this?" George seemed to genuinely wonder. His voice was dripping with lust and his body was warm underneath yours. It didn't take a detective to read George like a book, but he still had the self-control and gentle heart to make sure you were comfortable. It only made you want him more. But you were still far too shy to say so, no matter your actions. So you bit your lip and hummed in sweet agreeance, wrapping your hands around George’s neck.

You watched George’s face stretch into a smile before he ducked his head to the crook of your neck where he let out a contented sigh before grazing his teeth along your skin. You squealed with delight when he swiftly pinned you down on the sofa to playfully pepper your face with kisses like something less heated was taking place.

"You know, now would be the perfect time to carry me from the couch to your bed." You rose an encouraging brow, reminding George of just this morning when he was too afraid of disturbing your sleep on his sofa that matched this one. George let out a laugh as he peeled himself off the top of you and picked you up bridal style in his impressively buff arms.

"Right this way, madame." George teased, carrying you through his bedroom door.

You had thrown the covers into place the best you could the last time you woke up here. George rested you gently on the bed, much like you were sleeping and he was afraid of waking you up. But your heart was beating fast enough to win a race, somehow increasing when George rested beside you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You’re very pretty, you know?” George blinked, whispering to you.

“I’m glad you think so.” You spoke back even quieter, reaching out to touch his face. He was so handsome it nearly stopped your heart. George leaned in for another kiss, this one slow and steady. You hadn’t felt so content in ages, you could have laid there kissing George forever and been happy. But then his fingers trailed down your side to grab your hip, and you swore you saw stars. George pulled your leg over his and now you were pressed against one another, kisses growing deeper still.

“This alright?” He asked almost timidly, as his fingers crept below your nightshirt.

“Yeah,” You breathed as George moved his kisses down your neck, and his hand to your chest. Your fingers splayed through his hair as he reached around your back to find the clasp on your bralette

“It’s in the front.” You giggled, feeling George smile against your skin.

“Very cute.” He hummed in your ear before kissing your jaw and finding the button. He shoved your shirt most of the way off, and you had to move out from under him to remove it all the way. Before settling back against the pillows, you pulled off George’s shirt so you could revel in the warmth of his skin.

You settled in his lap, each knee on either side of his hips throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again, somehow still enjoying each brush of his tongue against yours like it was the first time. George signed into your mouth, each pleasant groan traveling straight down your spine. You rolled your hips against his, and George’s groans grew darker.

His fingers were lost in your hair and you found a steady pace to rock against him, drawing out longer whimpers from his lips with each new movement. Soon, his hand toyed with the drawstring of your shorts and he had to break away from your kiss to ask if he could take them off you could only muster an encourageable nod as your breath got caught in your throat. George laid you back, keeping those stunning blue eyes locked on yours all the while, only breaking away when he slid the last of your layers off. His fingers slid slowly between your legs as he laid next to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. How’d I get so lucky?” George spoke, you could feel his breath ghost across your lips while he went on building up the tension in your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to fill with fire, a contradictory chill shooting through your system. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“George,” You sighed, opening your eyes to look at him again, “need you.”

You watched his eyes go dark as he slowly moved away from you, slipping his joggers off and slotting himself between your legs.

“You’re sure?” He asked one final time.

“Please.” You groaned, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. With one last kiss on your lips, the Disney prince type, he pushed into you. If you thought the noises George had made before were beautiful, the ones he was making now could’ve moved you to tears. He found your hand and held it with one of his while the other slipped below your belly button.

Your heavy sighs and desperate moans synced up and you rode your highs on the edge of one another. George didn’t move off the top of you right away, instead, he stayed there with his face buried in your hair soaking up the quiet moment.

“That was wonderful, love.” George whispered in your ear as he fell to your side. You turned to face him, biting back a yawn.

“You’re wonderful.” You sleepily smiled. George pulled you against him then, and you rested your hand on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. The steady rhythm puts you to sleep in no time.

___

The next morning came late, and the Vegas sun shone brightly through the space between the curtains you forgot to close.

George was still by your side, but you’d drifted apart in the night. So upon noticing his eyes were open and glued on you, you felt no shame curling up next to his side.

"This has been the longest one night stand of my life." You sighed dramatically, comfily resting your head on his broad shoulder. George was quiet for a beat and you were a bit worried you’d upset him. But then he spoke up, with a gentle voice saturated in sleep.

"Wanna see how long we can last? I don’t think I wanna stop waking up to you."

How could you say no? You’d spent the whole weekend saying yes to George, and look where it had gotten you. So you agreed to stay one more night in Vegas, hoping what happened there would last a lifetime.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 5

Depression hour has arrived.

Helia reveals what went down on Shizukana to a confused Team ZRCN, and a new recurring character finally makes her long awaited appearance.

Many thanks to @neopoliitan for offering to proof read once again.

XANTHOS

The group had headed out to Cordovan’s home in Mantle after a quick call to Professor Velour to confirm that the Sabyrs had been dealt with and give her a brief rundown over what was happening. It was hard to ignore Helia’s warning.

“You’re in danger.”

But danger from what exactly? Xanthos was desperate for someone to ask, but even he had deemed it inappropriate to press the issue - especially given the urgency in Helia’s voice when she had requested somewhere safe to talk.

Depending on who or what they were in danger of, going to Cordovan’s house might not have been the safest idea in hindsight, but it was their best option outside of the Academy - which wasn’t exactly private. 

Xanthos came to a halt as they approached, having spotted someone sitting on the steps leading up to the porch, and made a show of pointing them out. “Um, who is that?”

“Who are you talking about?” Cordovan questioned as he pushed forward to get a better look. His confused expression quickly furrowed to a more annoyed one as he let out an exasperated sigh, “Rosie…”

Stepping ahead of the group commandingly, Cordovan approached the young girl who was sitting on the steps. Her head was buried in a magazine, but when she heard someone approach she looked up immediately - a glare of suspicion swiftly softening with apparent recognition.

“Hi Corduroy, what are you doing here?” She asked cheerfully, jumping to her feet.

“What are you doing here, Rosie?” Cordovan fired back, folding his arms as he spoke. “Shouldn’t you be staying at Mrs Clearwater’s house?”

“I should,” Rosie confirmed with a sly smile. “But she smells funny and I don’t like the way her cat looks at me. It looked like it was going to eat me. Probably could too, the ugly thing was big enough.”

Cordovan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what was the plan here, Rosie - were you just going to wait for me or my mom to come home and maybe freeze in the process, or was it something else?”

Rosie looked up at him blankly before shrugging her shoulders. “I dunno. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

As he and the others closed the distance between them and their teammate, Xanthos was struck at the similarities between Cordovan and the girl; both of them shared the same messy reddish-brown hair, brown eyes and fair complexion. The only notable difference was the girl had freckles, while Cordovan did not. She wore a slightly oversized flannel shirt, half tucked into a pair of cropped, faded jeans.

Sensing the two could have gone back and forth for a while, Xanthos stepped up and interrupted the pair with a light cough. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he asked.

Cordovan hesitated for a moment, and Xanthos saw him glance nervously towards Rosie, who in turn met his gaze. “This is Rosie. She’s my, uh, cousin -- from my dad’s side... hence the hair.”

The girl looked down at the concrete between her white canvas shoes. “Yeah, what he said - we’re... cousins.”

“Anyway,” Cordovan cut in, looking around at the gathered party and withdrawing a key from his pocket. “Shall we go inside?”

He unlocked the door and the six of them all shuffled inside. Cordovan made a brief, mumbled comment about making some drinks for everyone, then swiftly disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, closely watched by Rosie. As they waited for Cordovan, the four of them headed to the living room to make themselves comfortable, though no one seemed in much of a hurry to sit down. 

This wasn’t the first time Xanthos had been in Cordovan’s home, but it was the first time he had noted some subtle changes. It remained as cluttered as ever, but it appeared as though there had been a conscious effort to at least neaten things up. Books that had once taken up nearly all the spare space in the living room had now been neatly stacked on newly built shelves. Niche decorative items that had once filled the mantlepiece were now replaced with more tasteful decor  though Xanthos noted a small pink cat figure lingered behind, and he assumed that was at the behest of Rosie. He wondered if many of the changes were due to her presence around the home, as opposed to general desire of wanting the place to look tidier.

Silence filled the room for what felt like several minutes. It was not interrupted by Cordovan’s return, but instead by heavy breathing coming from the doorway. Instinctively turning to face the source of the noise, Xanthos saw the girl - Rosie - stood there, staring intently at Helia.

“You’re Helia Vines.” It was said as less of a question and more of a statement. Xanthos wondered if she hadn’t paid much attention as to who was present when talking to the Cordovan.

“Yes, I am.” Helia confirmed, with a small nod.

Rosie let out a little squeak of excitement before she started babbling incredibly fast, an action which Xanthos could only describe as fangirling of the most extreme kind. When she had finished rambling, she seemed to settle, and directed a question at the veteran huntress in a more restrained tone. “Would you sign my doll?”

“Sure.”

Clearly thrilled at the response, Rosie did a small fist pump before turning on the spot and darting upstairs - likely to retrieve the aforementioned doll.

Once the girl had left the room and was out of earshot, Helia turned to Xanthos, Neela and Zelde and gave them a nervous smile. “You know I’ve had a lot of merchandise made for me, but I don’t remember dolls being one of them.”

“She reminds me of my sister.” Xanthos said softly, a faint smile forming on his lips as he thought of Marisol. It had been a long time since he had spoken to her - with the CCT being down - but he hoped she and their mother were okay.

“Don’t tell me your sister owned potentially creepy homemade dolls too.” Neela teased.

“I was referring to the enthusiasm actually, Nee,” Xanthos responded with a wink. “But if you must know, Marisol prefers plushies.”

Cordovan reappeared carrying in a tray of drinks for them all. He seemed to time his reappearance poorly - Rosie also reappeared at the exact same time, nearly tripping him up as she tried to jump ahead of him.

“Rosie!” Cordovan exclaimed, only just managing to keep his balance. Xanthos lifted himself slightly out of his seat to aid his friend - a reflex informed by Cordovan’s recent handicap - but the other student righted himself. He stepped further into the living room and set down the tray on the coffee table, before turning to face his cousin.

“What were you doing running in front of me like that? Surely you could see me coming.”

“Helia said she’d sign my doll!” Rosie responded, quickly showing everyone the doll in question. In truth, it wasn’t as bad as Xanthos had been expecting; he could at least see what the doll was meant to be. If Helia had electric green hair and disproportionate limbs,  it might have been a perfect match.

“You can do that later,” Cordovan said, trying to usher her away. “We’ve got grown-up things to talk about.”

Rosie had been co-operating until he referred to her age, which prompted her to stop and put her hands on her hips. “I’m eight, not seven!” She chided. “You don’t have to speak to me like a child.”

“I’m not - “ Cordovan paused to groan. “I didn’t mean it like that. Listen, I’m not trying to be rude, but there really is something urgent we need to talk about. Something that you don’t need to hear right now. When we’re done you’re welcome to come and pester us again.”

“Do you promise?” She batted her eyelashes at him expectantly.

He seemed taken aback by this question before shrugging his shoulders. “I guess so. I made you a hot chocolate if you-”

“Does it have marshmallows in it?” Rosie asked, suddenly perking up with interest. She had already begun to move towards the table, eyeing up a pink cup as she approached.

“No, it doesn’t have marshmallows in it.”

By the time Rosie had turned to respond she had already grabbed the cup with her spare hand. “Well, next time you owe me marshmallows -- but I’ll let it slide as your friends are here.” She smirked. Running past him and hurrying out of the room, she called to the others. “Bye Corduroy! Bye Corduroy’s friends!”

“‘Corduroy’, huh?” Xanthos mused, scratching his chin as he spoke. “I may have to use that.”

“Please, don’t.” Cordovan said, shooting him a warning glance before he eventually took a seat in one of the armchairs like Helia, with the rest of ZRCN once again huddling onto the sofa. There were a few minutes of awkward silence before Zelde got the ball rolling on why Helia had been so urgent to find somewhere to talk.

“What did you mean when you said we were in danger?”

Helia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, leaning forward to grab her drink. She traced a finger around the rim of the cup before looking up. “Do you remember what happened when we confronted Farron on Shizukana?”

Save for Cordovan, everyone else in the room had been present during the final confrontation with Farron’s people. It had been over six months now, but the event was still easily recallable to Xanthos. After a moment, he, Zelde, and Neela all nodded their heads, allowing Helia to continue.

“Do you remember what Wisteria said to him?” She asked. “Her ‘reveal’.”

“She said she didn’t work for him…” Zelde’s voice trailed off softly, already beginning to understand what Helia was trying to say. Xanthos was a bit slower on the draw.

“The people she worked for are the ones who are after us?” He questioned, looking to Helia for confirmation. “But why? We didn’t do anything to them! If anything, I got the impression we’d helped them take out a competitor of sorts. Why would they want to hurt us?” There was a brief pause before he quickly added, “Did they send the robots? Why?”

“Because you know too much.” Helia said.

Neela snorted a little. “Do we? I thought this was all resolved.”

“So did I,” Helia agreed before Xanthos noted her crumpling into her chair. It was only then he noticed how defeated she seemed in that moment. “But I was wrong.”

It was Cordovan who dared to ask the final question. “What happened, Helia?”

The huntress sniffed loudly, tears forming in her eyes. “My team and I had been talking about reuniting for months - a few weeks ago we finally agreed to meet up on Shizukana. It was the first time we were all in a room together after we went our separate ways... I was so excited to see them all again. It was only our third night when it all went wrong.” 

She lowered her head and took a long steadying breath before looking back up at them. “The real people Wisteria was working for decided to make an appearance - Wisteria, too - and they literally blew apart Leyla’s house. Leyla herself was knocked out, and the rest of us were dazed but we could still fight. Anthea and I tried to hold off two unknown attackers, but they were stronger and got the upper hand on us. Alcyone was the only one left standing by the end. We told her to stop and give up, that fighting would get us nowhere, but she was always stubborn - always thought she knew best.” 

Helia looked away, and Xanthos noted she had a pained smile. “Then a white-haired bitch skewered her with a spear.” She revealed grimly.

“Fucking hell,” Xanthos cursed aloud.

Helia was beginning to cry, but she was too determined to finish her story to succumb to tears. “I should have stayed with her in those final moments. I’ll always regret that I didn't. But I was confused and angry - who were these people, why had they come here and done this to us? 

“Other than Wisteria I had no connection to them, and the only thing they had told us was that the whole thing was a warning. A warning for what though? Why? Over and Over again I asked them. Eventually Wisteria knocked me aside like I was nothing and I was too weak to stand back up. She warned me against rising to my feet and I listened to her.” 

She took a shaky sip from her cup. “I’d like to say the white-haired woman took some pity as she approached me, but there was no pity in those blood-red eyes. Only malice and pleasure. I think she actively enjoyed seeing me suffer. And then she told me that this was all a warning. A warning for me and Leyla, but mostly for you. Anthea and Alcyone were just a nice little ‘side dish’. They had ‘other things’ to do first but she warned me that eventually they’d come for you too. Then they just… left. By the time I got back, Alcyone was gone.”

Helia didn’t need to elaborate on what she meant - by now they all knew the fate Alcyone had succumbed to, what these foes were capable of. Xanthos had always thought Wisteria might have been one of the largest challenges they would face, but it was becoming apparent she was just a piece in a much larger puzzle.

Zelde was the first to move, rising to her feet and standing in front of the window in silence, clearly deep in thought. Cordovan had leaned forward and was running his hands through his bowed head. Xanthos and Neela were silent and unmoving, still trying to process what Helia had told them. 

The silence in the room was soon filled by the increasingly loud sobbing of Helia, a sound that would have melted even the coldest of hearts. Neela was the first to rise to her feet and approach the veteran huntress, quietly wrapping her arms around her comfortingly. One by one, the rest of ZRCN followed suit; Cordovan, then Xanthos, and lastly Zelde. And that was where they stayed for a while, just holding and comforting each other, only breaking apart when Rosie finally ventured back downstairs again.

[mrs-berry]

AU Day

By mrs_berry

Read it on AO3!

Part 6 of ML Love Square Week 2020

@lovesquarefluffweek

Summary: Marinette is just too damn short to reach what she needs at the grocery store. Classic short people problems... how will Marinette solve this one?

Word Count: 2245

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette always prided herself on being independent.

She had been single for most of her life, only having had two boyfriends, neither of which worked out. However, she was glad those had at least ended on amicable terms.

She really did enjoy the single life, though, and while she wouldn't mind a boyfriend (and, hopefully, one day a husband), there was one thing she truly hated about being single.

She hated being short and having no one to help her reach things at the grocery store!

Perhaps that was a silly reason to hate being single, but Marinette couldn't deny the awful truth of it.

Especially as she was currently being reminded of it at this very moment.

Try as she might, even as she stood on her tippy toes, she just could not reach the damn vanilla extract (and the last one, by the look of it) that she wanted to purchase for her desserts.

One time, she had even tried wearing 7-inch heels to see if that would help her dilemma with reaching grocery items.

It did not.

(It actually made things a lot worse as she nearly broke her ankles and tripped every few seconds.)

Was it really too much to ask that the shelves not be so tall? Or for there to be a step ladder nearby? Or for there to be a store clerk available at all times for short people like her?

Did the people who designed grocery stores hate short people?

Whatever the reason for the high shelving, Marinette was bitter and found it very discriminatory against vertically-challenged people.

As she continued hopping and trying to climb the shelves, she grew more and more frustrated.

It certainly didn't help that she was upset with her employer and had just had a day from hell.

Just as she was pretty sure she was about to reach it, a masculine hand appeared from behind her and plucked the very item she had been pining for.

She quickly spun around to scold the thief.

"Hey, that was mine!" she remarked accusatorily, pouting angrily.

Suddenly, she realized she was staring at a broad chest instead of a face.

Craning her neck up, she was faced with an extraordinarily handsome blond fella.

He was so dreamy, she was pretty sure he'd be appearing in her dreams tonight whether she wanted him to or not.

Still, supermodel or whatever, she was not forgiving him just because of his good looks.

The green-eyed Adonis chuckled awkwardly (and stared at her adorable expression) for a moment before explaining.

"Sorry, I was just trying to help you. It looked like you needed a hand," he said as he offered her the vanilla extract.

The outrage immediately dissipated and a smile instantly replaced her frown.

"Oh, well, thank you," she replied, embarrassed by her previous assumption and outburst. Somewhat shyly, she accepted the bottle from his hand. "Sorry for my rudeness. I was just... a little bit stressed."

"That's okay, I'm sorry I snuck up on you like that and helped you without asking if even wanted my help," he smiled and rubbed his neck a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, well, I forgive you," Marinette said. "And I'm sure if you hadn't gotten me on a day where Mr. Agreste gave me an earful, then I probably would have reacted a lot less dramatically. He's a brilliant designer, but he doesn't have the greatest attitude."

"Oh. Are you talking about Gabriel Agreste?" the man asked, his expression indifferent.

"Yes, that's him. He's truly something. I've always wanted to work with him. But I'm having some regrets about it. He is so difficult to work with. Sometimes I wonder if I should just quit and try to make a brand on my own," Marinette rambled. "But I'm just worried that I will fail and end up jobless and homeless. Well, I guess I wouldn't be homeless, since my parents said their home is always my home. But still, what 25-year-old would want to go back to their parents? Not me, that's for sure. I love them, but I want to live my own life and be independent."

Marinette suddenly became aware that she was chatting his ears off. She did tend to prattle on and on when she was nervous. And, boy, did this man make her nervous.

The blond just smiled sweetly at her, not interrupting her or even looking fed up. Still, Marinette felt a little guilty making him listen to a complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, here I am ranting to you and we don't even know each other's names. I'm Marinette," she introduced and offered a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Marinette." He gently grasped her hand, and then bowed down and gently brushed his lips against her knuckles. "I'm Adrien. And no need to apologize. I was quite enjoying your life story, Princess."

Marinette's eyes widened and she felt her cheeks burn at the kiss and nickname. And seeing him more up close, he looked even more beautiful and... oddly familiar.

"H-Hi Adrien... um, has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Gabriel Agreste's son?" she observed innocently, not at all thinking that it was, in fact, Gabriel's son.

(Because that would be an awful coincidence.)

Adrien smiled wryly, then looked down as if he was trying to avoid her stare.

"I have heard that before," he admitted with a shrug.

"I'm not surprised. You could be his doppelgänger," she mused.

He sighed, figuring he probably shouldn't lie to this very honest stranger who was quite attractive.

"Or... I could actually be him."

"Hmm, I would believe it," she murmured. Then, something clicked in her mind and she gasped. "Wait a second, your name is Adrien? And Gabriel's son's name is Adrien... oh my goodness, you're Adrien Agreste, aren't you?"

Adrien laughed awkwardly and nodded. He always hated when people recognized him. They usually started acting very differently around him once they learned who he was and who he was related to.

"Wow, I'm so sorry. I just bad mouthed your father. What I said was true, but I shouldn't have said it to you. I'm so sorry for being such a jerk!" Marinette groaned, covering her face with her hands, as she freaked out over how horrible this whole meeting was going.

Adrien must hate her. She accused him of being a food thief, then rambled on and on about herself, not to mention she insulted his father!

She was never going to be able to show her face at this grocery store again. She would probably need to move cities just to ensure she would never accidentally encounter him again.

She was startled to hear him laughing again. Did she say something funny?

"Actually, it's refreshing to hear some honesty for once. Usually anyone within my hearing distance only sings him—and me—praises. It's kind of tiring being around fake people who lie to get on my good side," he reassured her. "I like you, Marinette. You seem like a good and honest person."

Marinette peeked at him between her fingers.

"Really?" she timidly asked.

"Really, really." He winked. "Hey, if you're interested, maybe we could get a coffee together?"

Marinette felt herself flush. Was this handsome son-of-her-boss really asking her out?

Removing her hands from her face, she tucked a hair behind her ear and clutched her purse nervously.

"I'd love to."

They exchanged numbers and adoring stares.

"Hey, um, there's a few other things I couldn't reach. Would you mind...?"

"I'd be more than happy to offer you my services again, My Lady. Just lead the way," he said, giving her a 'lady's first' gesture.

Marinette giggled, then made her way to other parts of the store.

As they walked, they chatted some more.

"So, Adrien, what brings you to this grocery store? I've never seen you here before."

"Well, to be honest, up until now I've had staff who cooked my meals. But recently, I grew tired of it. I want to do things by myself and do what I want to do. So, I finally quit my modeling job that my father forced me to have, found a different job elsewhere, and moved into an apartment that I chose for myself. So, I'm completely new to this area. And new to buying groceries. And new to cooking... and new to mostly everything that comes with being an independent adult," he explained. It was a little embarrassing to admit how helpless he was after being coddled (trapped) for years under his father's strict care, but Marinette did not seem to be judgmental so he felt safe divulging this information.

Marinette paused as she pointed to the next high-up item that she needed.

Adrien stepped closer to her to grab the item.

Marinette mutely gasped at their close proximity.

He smelled so good.

Her brain short-circuited for a moment and then she shook her head to regain focus.

He offered her the can he grabbed off the shelf.

"Thanks again for your help," she smiled sweetly, taking the can of soup that she had been trying to reach last time she went grocery shopping. "And it sounds tough. If I may speak frankly, I know firsthand how difficult your father can be, so I'm glad you were able to move out and make your own decisions. If you need any help—any at all—you can always ask me. I've been on my own for years and I love it. But it can be a little bit... lonely sometimes, so I'd be happy to have you over and give you some pointers. Uh, but only if you want to, of course!"

Marinette blushed again at her boldness. This man was still basically a stranger and she was already inviting him over to her place. It was as if all sense and reason flew out the window when it came to Adrien.

"Thank you, Marinette. That is so thoughtful and means a lot to me. Hopefully, after we get to know each other a little more, I can take you up on that offer," he replied with a grateful smile.

Marinette wondered how anyone could be so considerate, sweet, good at listening, and attractive at the same time. If her first impression was anything to go on, Adrien was husband material. He was so sensitive, easy to talk to, honest, kind, generous, helpful and understanding towards others... not to mention a total dreamboat...

"Do you need anything else?" Adrien asked, abruptly snapping Marinette out of her daydream.

"Oh! N-No I have everything now, thank you," she stammered, embarrassed to have been entirely lost in thought about a man she just met. "What about you, require any assistance with dinner tonight?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I have everything I need for a recipe I am trying out tonight," he said proudly as they made their way towards the checkout.

"Is that right? Are you considering becoming a chef?" Marinette quipped.

She gave the cashier a quick and friendly greeting as she began placing her items on the cashier belt. Adrien helped her and then placed the few food items he had picked up on the belt as well.

"Hmm, who knows what the future holds for me now?" Adrien pondered sombrely, but with a forced smile so as not to worry Marinette. The future held so many unknowns now that he had fled from his father's cage. He would need to do a lot of thinking and planning to decide where exactly to go from here.

"Well, I'm sure you would make an amazing chef," Marinette reassured cheerfully, taking notice of his clearly fake smile. Finished scanning the groceries, the cashier told Marinette her total and she paid with a quick tap of her debit card. "I bet with some practice, a little guidance, and a lot of diligence, you could be anything you put your mind to!" She winked.

"With that level of support, how could I not?" Adrien chuckled, feeling encouraged by Marinette.

Marinette giggled distractedly in response as she began clumsily struggling to pack all her food into her reusable grocery bags. Adrien took the opportunity to help her, which she was grateful for.

After they finished packing her purchases, Marinette came to the unfortunate conclusion that she might have bought a little more than she could comfortably carry.

Seeing Marinette's slight predicament, Adrien offered gently, "Do you need any help bringing those to your apartment?"

"Oh, well I—wouldn't—oof—want to bother—ugh—you," Marinette spoke between groans as she tried lifting all of her heavy bags.

Yeah, she was basically screwed if she tried to do this on her own. But she didn't want him to feel forced to help her.

"It's not a problem at all," Adrien laughed, tapping his credit card after the cashier gave him his total. "I can help bring the bags to your car, then I can follow you to your apartment to help bring them inside. If that's okay with you, of course."

"Thank you, that would be a huge help," Marinette responded appreciatively and a little sheepishly, picking up some of her bags.

Once Adrien had loaded his bags onto his muscular arms, as well as the rest of hers, they made their way out to the parking lot.

One thing was for certain about that night: Adrien would definitely be appearing in Marinette's dreams!

[ryuukenden4]

Do What Makes You Happy

(Okay fair warning, this is a very long post with some seriously personal stuff in it.)

I know I don't usually open up on here, but I think it's time I finally do it to get it off my chest. This has been a topic I often find myself thinking about. It usually makes me feel really shitty when I do, but I don't ever talk about it with anyone. I think I need to let all of my thoughts air, even if no one listens.

This post is about "cringe culture." Basically, judging someone for something they love. Not criticizing or internally judging, but shaming. This is a topic that sits badly with me on both ends of the spectrum. I both have judged people and been judged, and both sides feel bad.

Let's start off with why I'm even making this post. I've thought for a long time about myself and the stuff I enjoy. I know it isn't normal, and I know a lot of people in my age group can't relate. I love anime, it's been an outlet for me and my weird fantasies (like dragons and swords, not the other kind) for almost 10 years now. Video games are some of my lifeblood even though I guess gamer girls don't exist?? I immensely love making characters, fan and original. Fictional characters are my cornerstones where real people (usually) tend to fall flat. Let me elaborate.

Anime has helped me cope with many difficult things over the years. It helps me connect with family and friends. It gives me a creative outlet for not just drawing and writing, but thinking. Even cliché anime always make me see the world in new ways, and I love it for that. It's helped me develop myself and my style for such a long time that I can't imagine being parted from it any time soon.

From anime especially comes my love of fictional characters. I have always loved them (my first favorite characters were Jim Hawkins and Bilbo Baggins, and I'll never forget that fact about myself), but that love became intensified as I grew older. I don't necessarily see myself in them, but I enjoy getting to know them. It's almost a personal connection with the characters. My favorites are almost always established from their introductions because something with them and me just...clicks. Even if I have no clue who or what they are, there is something there I feel. Like they're an old friend or something. They make me feel not alone, as strange as that sounds. Like for instance, take Mirio, my current muse on here. His sunshiney personality and goofy nature brighten my day. His selfless nature and general goodness make me strive to be a better person. As soon as he was introduced, I knew he was gonna be one of my favorites, I could just tell. He feels like a friend to me, and I really feel a connection with him.

Moving from characters, video games have allowed me to explore new worlds and escape the mundanenss of our own. I'm not trying to sound deep, but having a way to escape this life for a little while is nice. The interactiveness of video games is so wonderful, and it really feels like I'm shedding myself and becoming someone else for a spell. I especially love games that either have an awesome protags who is loveable and you root for them, or ones that you create your own character and save the world.

Which brings me to my last and most sensitive topic; my characters. I have made characters since I was able to. From my warrior cats to my anime side characters all the way up to my completely original ones, my characters have always had an influence on me. Rarely do I make self-inserts, but when I do they are versions of me I wish I was. (My first warrior cat was pretty much me as a cat, I'll admit. And my first anime OC was also loosely based off me.) But I have come so far with them from what I used to do. Now my characters all have their own lives and I'm just telling their stories. Yes this sounds cheesy, but I hear that this is what makes a good character. When you sit down and "chat" with them and they are separate from you. I don't want to say none of my recent characters are like me, because obviously new characters are still forming from MY brain, but I do my best to develop them like functional, separate people and not fictional versions of me. And yes, often I do end up shipping my characters with other characters (my own or canon), but I never make it about me. It's about two fictional characters that are fun to imagine going to see a horror movie or taking a walk or cuddling under the stars.

As much as I love all of this, I'm terrified to talk about my interests with others. This post has been extremely hard to write so far, but I'm forcing myself to do it so I can finally be at peace with my negative thoughts. I find it hard to talk with others for fear of being labeled "weird" or "cringey." And it's not even that I mind their comments, I mind and worry about what they DON'T say. I always get nervous talking about stuff with people because I worry they're silently judging me. And sure, I understand what I do isn't everyone's cup of tea (nor do I expect that literally at all, especially shipping OCs and canon characters). I just worry it actually affects how people view ME as a person from what I like. That's why I hide my interests in my pysche, I try to avoid making others uncomfortable with me, even if I feel uncomfortable hiding myself. It all stems from my lack of self-confidence and fear of being hated. Judging and being judged are very stressful things to undergo, especially for someone not happy with who they are 90% of the time.

I mentioned earlier I've experienced both ends of this. So let me discuss. I had a very judgmental mindset of people for a long time based upon what they liked. I judged people hardcore for liking things that were ridiculous to me. I never said it to them, but my thoughts were mean and malicious. Looking back on myself for that, I find it disgusting, and I'll be the first to say I was wrong. I honestly think my spitefulness stemmed from my own bad experiences I'll describe later. What people like doesn't usually harm me in anyway, and so what makes me the one who dissuades them from doing what they love? I am a devout Christian, and one of my life-changing takeaways from those experiences was to step back and let God be the judge. My judgment ultimately means nothing to someone's life, and so they should be allowed to do as they please and God can decide if it's wrong or right at the end. Again I say, if it makes you happy, DO IT.

On the other end, I have been ridiculed for what I like. It's been little things like disparaging comments from family members or even anon hate (old Tumblr accounts now deactivated). I still remember my worst experience was on a platform called Flipnote Hatena. Basically, you drew little animations, often to music, flipbook-style on your DSi and posted them for others to see. I made a Flipnote for my Spyro fan character (very much a self insert...I was like 10) and Spyro to the song "Listen to Your Heart." I was so proud of my work, and it was my best yet. I posted it, not expecting much, as my stuff wasn't very popular. Then I got a notification for a comment. I was so happy to see what someone said, praising my art. Turns out it was another user telling me I was wrong for shipping my dragon and Spyro because he only loved HER character. She peppered in death threats and told me to kill myself. She proceeded to make Flipnotes about wanting to fight and kill my main avatar (my warrior cat at this point) to prove she deserved Spyro. Obviously I was distraught. I just wanted to share my love for Spyro and what I thought was my best animation, and I got told to die and threatened to be killed all for what I enjoyed doing. I know nothing would have come of it in hindsight, but being a 10 year old, that really scarred me. I caved and deleted my Flipnotes with said characters and never posted them again. I let that person win, and erased a portion of myself from my heart.

This is the event that usually makes me question if what I'm doing is "okay." I get bouts of negative thoughts toward myself and my "weirdness." I find myself wanting to delete all my characters and writings and everything. I tell myself what I'm doing is wrong, and it would make so many people angry and mean if I posted it. And then I tell myself I don't NEED to post it to be happy. I don't need validation on my stuff. I don't need fans of my characters or for people to ship my couples. I just need someone to affirm I'm okay, that I'm not wrong. I need someone to tell me "if it makes you happy, do it." I need to be reminded I'm also a person with feelings that matter. I'm uncomfortable deleting all of my hard work. I'm angry for deleting that character I put hours of research and thought into. I'm mean when I think of someone being so bothered by what a stranger does that they have to verbally abuse them for it. That's why I'm extending that for anyone listening. If you need to hear this, you are valid. If it makes you happy, please do it. Know that someone out there is rooting for you. I am 100% behind you.

That old show you watched with your middle school best friend? Watch it and relive some great memories! That cute idea you have for a scenario between your Naruto OC and Kakashi? Draw it, it's probably super cute! That idea for a for a story based solely upon platonic love and not romantic? Hell yeah, we need more of that content!

Basically, do whatever makes you you. True happiness seems like it's becoming hard to find nowadays, so if you find it, hold onto it. Never change for what you expect people want from you, and that doesn't just extend to hobbies. Be your awesome self. One day, someone will come along who loves what you do too, or will love you for being you. :)

Do what makes you happy.

[remasteredinnuendo]

Blue Bayou: Epilogue

Synopsis: Ben is nervous as he prepares for Bohemian Rhapsody. But just as he thinks nerves will get the best of him, he’s introduced to a woman who might just be the muse he needs. Inspired by the song Blue Bayou by Linda Ronstadt

Warnings: Nostalgia

Info: This is officially the last part to Blue Bayou. This part kind of closes the gap of what Emmy (OC) means in the story, not just to Ben. Rami Malek features heavily. I’d love feedback!

Epilogue:

Rami stood with his Oscar in hand, his weight shifting from foot to foot. The microphone in front of him demanded his voice, and the hundred-strong media presence in the room pressed with their questions. He couldn’t help but answer awkwardly, but the pride in his shoulders never faltered.

“I have to thank so many great artists who have brought me to the point where I’ve felt confident in my work,” Rami said into the microphone his free hand moving as he spoke. Like the feeling behind his words were too strong for him to stand still. “But it was the confidence that one person especially imbued in me that made me think I was capable of taking on this challenge of playing Freddie Mercury.”

 The post-ceremony interview was meant only for the winners. But Rami had let the cast stand offside of the little stage. At least some of them. Ben was in awe of all Bohemian Rhapsody had accomplished. With all his fears, he had done his best. And now he was so proud of the film and that the hard work put into it was being recognized by the world. Finally.

He smiled to himself, listening to Rami’s speech. Joe and Gwilym were over his shoulder, filming their best friend with their cellphones. This was a moment of a lifetime. And Emmy was here to share it with them.

Somehow, Ben had managed to talk her out of her hotel room and into the limousine. He didn’t once let go of her hand when they stepped onto the red carpet, and she didn’t once pull away. It was a warm feeling that washed over him whenever she was near. And even when she seemed to get nervous, pressing beneath his arm as the press shouted, asking for her name and wondering why she was here, she stood with her chin up. Smiled for the photos.

It was almost like a family photoshoot for them all. The entire cast stood in front of the white flashing lights, arms over shoulders. Not a single soul was going to be forgotten about. And when Brian called Emmy over for a photo with her and Roger, Roger gave Ben a firm handshake. Told him he did a good job. And to look out for his niece.

There was trust in those words, and Ben took them to heart. And now he had a hand on her hip, her back against his chest as she leaned against him. Blissfully at peace with the unpredictability of the world. Because even though it was as fragile as if it were made of sugar, she still was reaching out to taste it.

Now, because of her, so was he.

“I don’t know how this person thought a young man who felt so profoundly alienated with social anxiety could ever play Freddie Mercury. But I began to discover that in this audacious, wonderful, powerful icon….there was this sense of loneliness and a sense of anxiety and I could relate the two together.” Rami paused, a small smile on his face as they all listened intently. “I want to thank this person for discovering that in me.”

Ben encircled Emmy’s waist and held her tightly. He knew exactly who Rami was speaking of. Gwilym and Joe did, too. But she was oblivious, simply watching her new friend with happiness. The man who portrayed her father. The man who, really, allowed her to embrace herself, too. This win was so much bigger than all of them.

“Everyone, now is the time I’d like to present to you the heart of the Mothership. The woman who carries the last breaths of Freddie Mercury and Jim Hutton in her lungs,” Rami turned his head toward where they stood and grinned. “Emmanuelle Mercury.”

Beneath his touch, Ben felt Emmy freeze. Her entire body seemed to lurch, and then stood completely still. Through her spine he could feel her heartbeat thud as the gasps and whispers erupted in the room. Reporters stood from their seats, waving their hands in an attempt to get the first question in. But they all shared the same bewilderment. So did Emmy.

“Miss Mercury?” Rami called, outstretching his hand toward her.

Ben understood fear of judgment. Of not being able to live up to everyone else’s expectations. But the wisdom inside of her and the kindness she offered people from her lips had pulled him tight. The only reason he was able to be in this movie was because of her.

She hadn’t allowed him to miss this opportunity.

Now he was going to repay the favour.

Ben squeezed her tightly and leaned down to kiss her neck. The closest he had been to her skin. And she exhaled at the contact, giving him exactly enough time to pull away from her and gently nudge her forward with a hand at the curve of her back.

Emmy stumbled, if only for a moment, hand covering her mouth as her glassy eyes began to spill tears. The moment she revealed herself from the sidelines the cameras flashed like a fireworks show. Shutters clicked so loudly that none of them could hear as Rami moved his mouth and motioned for her. She reached her hand toward him like a blind woman trying to find her way.

And she found it.

Rami took her hand and pulled her toward the mic, and folded her fingers around the Oscar statuette. Joe and Gwilym whistled behind him as the reporters hushed themselves to bring applause to her name. To her meaning.

He turned back to the crowd. “Settle down,” he warned, and waited until they rumbles subsided and it was quiet enough for him to speak again. “This woman right here has taught all of us involved in the film to love the parts of ourselves that no one claps for. She gave every part of herself to make Bohemian Rhapsody possible.”

With a flourish signature to the film, Rami stepped back from the microphone and allowed her to step up. Tears glittered on her cheeks and her eyes were turned toward the ceiling. As though she was wondering if Freddie and Jim were watching her now. If they were proud.

When she hesitated to speak, cradling the award against her yellow gown, she turned toward them. Ben blew her a kiss, but her brows remained pulled low. Unsure of herself. Unsure of the room. Until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder and watched as Roger Taylor stepped forward. Still hidden, but nearly on the stage.

Emmy drew a small X shape over her heart with her finger, and he reciprocated. Just like they had both done that day in the studio. And whatever meaning it held, she took a deep breath and nodded to herself. And spoke.

“It is empowering to step outside of ourselves,” Emmy began, wiping a tear from her cheek, looking out at the ocean of journalists. “But my two fathers taught me that when we shed our doubt, we can become someone new.”

As she steadied herself, Ben took the moment of quietness to lean toward the drummer. “Excuse me, sir, but what does this mean?” he wondered, and when the drummer looked at him he drew an X over his chest.

Roger chuckled, turning back to the most beautiful woman in the room. “Whenever she needs reassurance, she’ll cross her heart, asking me to cross mine. Silently she’s asking me if I think she’s capable. And, of course I do, so I draw the X.” He gave a soft smile. “I silently promise her that I won’t let her fall. Neither will Brian, or Joe, or Gwilym, or Rami or the rest of us. And certainly not you.”

The answer made him blush. Of course she was as gentle as a flower, no matter the strong front she put on; everyone needed someone. So he turned back to Emmy, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“We are not tarnished,” Emmy said, holding conviction in her words as she pushed her shoulders down. “In fact, we are pure, even if we can’t fathom it in the moment. And we get so lost in our heads and drown in our problems so often we never take a step back to appreciate the things around us. Within us.”

She allowed herself a smile.

“We fall off the mountain that took us forever to climb and we think it’s the death of us, but who can say it’s not just us being reborn? We begin again and again because we know it leads to something new. Something better. And my parents taught me that we should never let the flames determine our ending.”

With a little nod of finality, Emmy took a step back from the microphone and Rami immediately began to clap. The sound filled the silence, and then Roger added himself to the applause. Ben, Joe, and Gwilym couldn’t quite pull themselves from their awe fast enough to beat the burst of energy from the journalists, but soon they were clapping, too.

“Home is where the Mothership is,” Rami said to them all as he passed the mic to kiss her cheek.

She handed him back the Oscar statuette with a bow, her lips forming a dozen thank-you’s before she turned on her heel and gave him back the stage. Emmy, hands no longer shaking, leaned in to Roger’s embrace and the proud arms of Joe and Gwilym.

But when she turned to Ben, he found himself completely unprepared. She pressed her lips to his and it obliterated every thought. For the first time in a long time, Ben’s mind was locked into the present. The worries of everything and anything evaporated like a summer shower onto a hot car. His usual mode of running was suddenly suspended, and he didn’t want this kiss to end.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. He was drunk on her, and all he wanted to do was touch. And within moments, the soft caresses became firm, and he savoured her lips and the quickening of her breath that matched his own.

A kiss like this was a beginning. A promise of much more to come.

“Thank you,” Ben said as he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers. He didn’t care that everyone was watching them.

Emmy smiled at him, hands on his shoulders. “For what?”

“For being you.”

And he leaned in to kiss her again.

[gatesofember]

Frailty and Fortune: Chapter 2

PJO Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU Part 10

Rating: T | Pairing: Solangelo

Prev | Next | AU directory | Read it on AO3 (Recommended) | Arranged Marriage AU Masterpage

Summary: A few months have passed since Prince Nico’s wedding to William of Solace. Even with his husband at his side, Will sometimes feels lonely as he settles into his new life. He misses his home, his family, his friends, and his studies in Venadica. Meanwhile, Nico is uncertain how to help him, awkward about expressing himself, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to truly make his husband happy. As time goes by and Will continues to feel lost in his new home, Will and Nico must both learn how to make their marriage work.

Nico spent the majority of the trip to Phrygia holding Will’s hand and dozing on his shoulder.  When he opened his eyes, he saw Mellie and Hedge similarly cuddled together while Reyna sat plastered against the carriage wall as far from Mellie and Hedge as she could get.  Nico had a feeling that she was tired of being surrounded by newlyweds.  

When they reached Phrygia, however, Nico began to feel agitated.  He wondered if bringing Will along had been a good idea.  Will had seemed strangely excited the whole trip, but he would probably find the visit boring and would have enjoyed himself more if he’d stayed in Divitia.

But more importantly, Nico didn’t want Midas to go anywhere near Will.  He didn’t want Midas near anyone he cared for.

Although he rarely went anywhere without his dog, Nico had purposely left Asterion behind and had encouraged Will to do the same with Bonnie.  Midas had apparently repented after the bating scandal came to light nearly a decade ago, but Nico didn’t believe it.  Midas was clever; when Nico listed his name as one of the contributors in his old tutor Minos’ baiting ring, Midas had known exactly what to say to save himself.  Nico could still clearly recall the fake remorse in Midas’ voice when he admitted his involvement in his hearing.  He’d done it for his dying wife, he’d claimed.  Midas had spun a tragic tale for the jury about the agony he’d felt when his wife had been diagnosed with the Scarlet Delirium, how he’d depleted his wealth to find a way to save her, and how, in his despair, he’d turned to betting on dog fights to support her.  The next day, whispers all over Divitia quoted his statement: “People do shameful things to save the ones they love.”

Nico, who’d acted as the primary witness in most of the baiting cases, was one of the few people Midas hadn’t managed to charm.  Nico had seen the dogfights firsthand.  He’d touched Asterion’s wounds and nursed him when he was too weak to even stand.

But Nico had still been a child at the time, unable to express himself and not even half as charismatic as Midas.  He could do very little to convince the jury of Midas’ cruelty—especially not after he his temper in the middle of the trial.  When Divitians weren’t too busy sympathizing with Midas, they were gossiping about the tantrum that the little prince had thrown in the courtroom.

Midas had gotten off too easily.  He’d paid a fine—one he could easily afford with the money he’d earned on dog fights—and he’d cooperated with Artemis’ investigators to help identify and arrest the others involved in the baiting ring.  And that was it.  After that, it was like it had never even happened.

Nico knew that Midas wouldn’t dare to harm Asterion, but he would never allow his dog to be in the presence of a man who had pitted animals against each other for profit.  Midas would always be cruel and corrupt, no matter how much he insisted otherwise.  Although he had failed to bring Midas to justice, Nico would never fail to protect Asterion again.

They rode past sprawling fields of grain and grazing livestock before they reached Phrygia’s gates.  “What a beautiful city,” Will mused as he watched the buildings roll by.  “Large cities like this usually have more problems with sanitation, but the streets look clean.”

Nico was only half listening and didn’t fully realized what Will had said until Reyna replied, “Phrygia has an advanced sewage network for a Plutonian city.”

Nico turned his glare from the window to Reyna.  “For a Plutonian city?” he repeated.

Reyna nodded, ignoring Nico’s irate tone.  “Most haven’t had the funds to introduce such modern systems.”

“The mines must have helped with reconstruction a great deal,” Will commented.

Nico snorted.  Will was too busy looking outside to hear him, but Reyna eyed Nico warningly to remind him to control his temper.  Nico averted his eyes.  

Truthfully, Phrygia was a beautiful city, which only agitated Nico more.  He wished he could have found more to pick at to stick the blame on Midas, but it was in remarkable shape.  Divitia paled by comparison.

Midas’ estate was located outside the southeastern wall of the city.  The manor would have been dwarfed in size by the Palatium de Divitae, but it did not lack in grandeur.  They entered the property through a gate before pulling into the main courtyard.  The mansard roof gleamed like silver in the late afternoon sun, while the yellow brick and white stone ornamentation of the manor shone like gold and ivory.  The manor itself consisted of two wings that came forward from either side of a central building, with tall windows and beautiful terraced gardens.  The earl and his household stood outside, waiting to greet them.  

As the carriage came to a halt, Nico tried to cool his temper.  Reyna tried to catch his attention, but Nico ignored her.  He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing to distract himself from his anger.  And he waited.

Too soon, he heard the carriage door open and he looked down in time to see the step pulled out.  “I’ll go first,” Reyna said.  Nico could feel her eyes on him, like she wanted to exchange one last glance and one final warning, but Nico refused to meet her gaze.  When he heard her shoes hit the road, he looked up at Will and gestured for him to exit first.

And then Nico couldn’t delay further; it wouldn’t be appropriate for a guard and a maid to exit before him.  He considered asking them to do it anyway, but only for a moment before he gathered his courage and stepped outside.

When Will took his hand to help him down, Nico kept his chin held up.  When he was escorted to the doors of the manor, Nico looked forward.  When they stopped in front of the earl, Nico held Midas’ eyes.  

Midas looked exactly how Nico remembered him; perhaps his hair was grayer and his face more lined, but other than that, he looked the same.  He was a heavyset bearded man—a horrible choice, as far as Nico was concerned.  Facial hair hadn’t been fashionable for a century.  Then again, nothing about Midas was tasteful.  His clothes—scarlet and gold with diamonds sewn into the embroidery—were lavish to the point of ostentation and served as an obvious statement to announce his wealth.  A man like Midas did not deserve such opulence and luxury.  He had always been wealthy; even during the Scarlet Delirium, he’d continued to amass a great fortune from betting and baiting.  The fines he’d paid for it had barely dented his wealth. 

“Your arrival is an honor, Your Highness,” Midas said.  When he bowed, the rest of the household followed suit.

“Midas,” Nico said.  “It’s been some time since we last met.”

“Indeed,” Midas answered.  “Last I saw you, you were still a child.”

“I think you’ll find that I have grown and learned much since then,” Nico said.  He paused, just long enough to enjoy the expression on Midas’ face.  He looked nervous.

Good.  He ought to be.

“I have brought my husband, Lord William of Angelus, and my adviser, Lady Reyna,” Nico continued, nodding to each of them in turn.

“A privilege,” Midas said.  “And you remember my son, Lityerses.”

Nico forced himself not to scowl in distaste when Midas gestured to the young man beside him.  “Of course,” Nico said.  He nodded politely when Lityerses bowed, but avoided meeting his eyes.  He was not afraid of Midas, but as for his son....

Well, Nico did not fear Lityerses, either, but he felt an unexpected twinge of apprehension.  Nico shuddered to think of the teasing he’d endure if Will found out that Midas had once offered his son as a potential marriage candidate.  Nico had turned Lityerses away without even bothering to meet with him.  He’d had already known what kind of person Lityerses was; they had met on a few occasions when Midas brought his son to the Lotussium to watch dog fighting matches.  Lityerses was just as greedy as his father, and even more merciless.

“Shall we retire inside for dinner?” Midas suggested.  “You must be hungry after your journey.  Afterwards, I would love to give you a tour of my home.”

“Yes, thank you,” Nico said.  “Will your daughter not join us?”

“Not during this visit,” Midas replied.  “She is currently studying abroad.”

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for wealthy families to send their daughters abroad for schooling, but Nico glanced at Will to gauge his reaction as Midas showed them inside.  Will usually studied that time of year.  Nico knew he missed it, even if he didn’t mention it often.  He couldn’t be sure what Will was thinking, however; Will didn’t appear upset or envious, but Nico noted that he also didn’t inquire about her studies further.  Usually, Will would be interested in other people’s schooling.

Nico would have liked to critique Midas’ skills as a host, but he was disappointed when dinner was set out for them almost immediately after they sat down.  Midas had timed their arrival perfectly and the meal was inconveniently delicious.

Nico did not avoid meeting Midas’ eyes when he addressed him, but he also was careful not to look in Midas’ direction much at all—enough to show that he was not afraid of Midas without letting him think that he was at all worthy of Nico’s attention.

But Will did not follow Nico’s lead.

Nico had been so wrapped up in his own apprehension that he had forgotten one important detail about his husband: his infuriating and incessant kindness.  He’d never heard Will speak ill of anyone—save Octavian, but that hardly counted—and he couldn’t think of a single time he’d witnessed his husband greet someone without a smile.  Perhaps Nico had assumed that considering Midas’ despicable nature, Will would make an exception to his usual routine of kindness.  But no—Will wore his brightest, prettiest smile and acted as charming as ever.  He talked and talked and talked until Nico thought his ears might bleed if he didn’t stop.  Nico gripped his tableware so tightly that his nails left marks on his palms, and still Will and Midas talked.  Nico knew his flaring temper was to blame; Will wasn’t trying to bother him.  But even still, he found Will’s voice loud and obnoxious.  Nico had to bite his tongue to keep himself from snapping at him to shut up.  

“Lityerses has become a talented swordsman since you last met,” Midas said.  “He remains unmatched in every fencing.  I hear you enjoy fencing as well—perhaps you could have a friendly spar during your visit.”

“I did not come here to spar,” Nico answered cooly.  “I came to review your mine.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Nico saw both Will and Reyna turn to him.  Nico ignored their shocked expressions.  He knew that later Reyna would lecture him about at least acting polite and he would regret acting so callously in front of Will, but he felt too angry to care just yet.  He had not come to be friendly with Midas and Lityerses.  Midas should not expect otherwise.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Midas said after a moment’s pause.

Nico didn’t bother to respond.

For a few moments, the only sounds were that of tableware scraping against plates.  Then Will suddenly cleared his throat.  “Your city is beautiful, Lord Midas,” he said.  “We had the privilege of admiring it as we rode through on our way here.”

“All compliments ought to be directed to the mines,” Midas said.  “It is due to the hard work of Phygia’s citizens that the city has recovered so well.”

Nico tried not to snort.  He didn’t believe for a second that Midas didn’t revel in every compliment.  Phrygia was doing admittedly well, but perhaps the reason they weren’t experiencing the economic depression so harshly was because of Midas’ questionable sources of income—Nico knew too well how lucrative baiting could be.

When dinner was over, Midas brought them to view the gardens before the sky fell to dark.  Will and Midas commented on the newer Juvian styles and how Midas planned to introduce them to his grounds.  They discussed construction and design and gardening, and all the while, Will held that foolish smile and innocent charm.  Nico didn’t notice that he’d been clenching his fists and jaw until Reyna fell in step beside him.  Her presence—and the look she gave him—both calmed Nico and reminded him to remain poised.  Nico could not allow himself to seem frustrated in front of Midas.  He could not appear weak or young or less than perfectly composed.

“Has the estate been in your family long?” Will asked when Midas brought them back to the manor to continue the tour indoors.

“Four generations, but only about half the manor is original,” Midas said.  “It’s constantly under construction.”

“I thought so.  There are pieces that look historic, but others are quite contemporary.  The entire estate is beautifully designed.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Nico barely contained a snort.  Beautifully designed?  Everywhere he looked, there was gold.  Gold filigree embellishing the walls, gold squares tiled across the ceilings, gold wrapped around the base of marble columns.  It looked nothing like the Hall of Gold in the Palatium de Divitae—that had been artfully designed, and for all its riches, the Hall of Gold radiated a sense of modesty and restraint.  Midas’ home was designed to be ostentatious and boastful.  Nico felt sick to his stomach.  He had his doubts about how honorably Midas had attained such vast amounts of gold.

But Will didn’t seem to care about that.  He happily complimented every room they walked though.  Nico could have expected Will to act civil with almost anyone, but so friendly?  How could he be so needlessly charming to a person like Midas?  Nico knew Will’s opinions on baiting—they’d discussed it on multiple occasions.  Didn’t Will realize that....

Unless he didn’t.  Gods, Will didn’t know.

Nico had assumed that Will would’ve been aware, especially considering how passionately he felt about baiting.  Hadn’t Nico told Will about Asterion?

But no.  He hadn’t.  He’d mentioned that Asterion’s first master had been cruel, but he’d never offered more information than that.  He hadn’t told Will about Midas or the others, and he certainly hadn’t said much about Minos.

Nico bit back the urge to curse.  This was exactly what everyone had kept telling Nico—he needed to talk to Will.  Hestia had told him.  Reyna had told him.  Even Percy and Jason had told him.  Talking was difficult, especially when the subject of conversation was something Nico desperately avoided thinking about, but he couldn’t keep expecting Will to understand everything automatically.

Nico looked at Will, wondering if he could somehow send a silent signal to say, “Don’t trust him,” or at least, “I have something to tell you,” or maybe even just, “Gods above, stop smiling!”  But Will was too engrossed in his conversation to catch any of Nico’s subtle cues, even when Nico wrapped a hand around his arm.

Nico didn’t find an opportunity until later that night, after Midas had invited them to sit and talk over refreshments.  When Midas sent Lityerses to bed, Nico saw a chance and pounced on it.

“Actually, I was thinking that we ought to retire soon, as well,” Nico said.  “Will, why don’t you head to bed?  I will continue talking a while longer with Lady Reyna and Lord Midas, but there’s no need for you to stay up with us.  You must be tired.”

Will frowned.  For a moment, Nico worried that Will would argue, but then he nodded.  “Yes, Your Highness,” he said, getting to his feet.  He turned to Midas and bowed.  “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Lord Midas.  I look forward to speaking more tomorrow.”

“Likewise,” Midas said.  He called for a manservant to escort Will to his room.

Will touched Nico’s shoulder as he walked by.  “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico started to answer, but it died in his throat and he felt the blood drain from his face when he realized what Will had done.  Nico.  Will had called him Nico.

Of course liked it when Will used his given name, but it was intimate.  It showed a vulnerability that Nico had chosen to share with Will.  That vulnerability wasn’t meant to be put on display for others—especially not Midas.

Nico clenched his fist, but did nothing.  He waited for Will to leave them, took a sip of his tea, and pretended that Will hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.  Perhaps Midas hadn’t even noticed.

“I suggest we leave early tomorrow to reach the mines before noon,” Nico said.  

“Yes, Your Highness,” Midas agreed.  “I was about to say the same thing.”

Nico made an unimpressed noise.  “I’m looking forward to reviewing them.  I hope I will find everything up to my standards.  I’m particularly interested in the wellbeing of your workers—including those of the four-legged variety.”

Midas was quiet.  He looked nervous.

He should.

Eventually, Midas cleared his throat.  “Will your husband join us tomorrow?” he asked.

“I will invite him,” Nico answered.  “I’m sure he’ll be just as eager as I am.  You know, my husband has exceptional veterinary experience.  I expect that he’ll be a good judge of the working conditions of your animals.”

Midas said nothing, but Nico thought he seemed pale.

“Perhaps we should all retire for the night,” Midas suggested.

“Yes,” Nico agreed.  “Perhaps so.”

*   *   *

Will had taken off his coat and cravat, but otherwise had not moved to ready himself for bed.  His guest chambers consisted of two separate rooms—one for sleeping while the other was a small sitting room for his own personal use.  He’d tried to keep himself entertained by sitting and reading, but that hadn’t lasted long.  Will had already spent a considerable amount of time sitting and reading in the carriage earlier, so he was quite tired of it.

He didn’t want to go to sleep, either.  Why was it that people always insisted that he needed rest after traveling?  Will hadn’t done anything but sit all day.  If anything, he usually felt restless after long journeys.  They were tedious and boring and within the first half hour of any trip, someone invariably announced the need to relieve themselves at the least convenient moment.  Often, that person was Will.

The point was, Will wasn’t ready to sleep and he was ever so slightly annoyed that Nico had suggested it.  He’d spent a significant deal of his life in carriages and he was sick of people telling him that he was a weary traveler when he’d really spent hours doing absolutely nothing.

Of course, that didn’t keep annoyed Will for long.  The real reason Will still felt bothered by the whole thing was the way Nico had said it.  As soon as Midas had sent his son off to bed, Nico suggested Will leave, too, as though Will was a child and the real adults—Reyna, Nico, and Midas—were trying to have a serious conversation.

Admittedly, Will knew very little about mining and wouldn’t have been much use anyway, but he didn’t believe that warranted an early bedtime.  Perhaps he’d done something else to offend Nico.  Nico had been irritable most of the day, after all, so it wasn’t unlikely.  Had Will spoken too much earlier that day?  Perhaps Nico felt like Will had stolen their host’s attention.

But then again, perhaps Nico hadn’t meant anything by it at all.  Will could be imagining the entire thing.

Will nodded to himself.  That was probably the case.  He’d ask Nico to be sure, but there was no sense working himself up over something that could be nothing at all.

He wondered if Nico would come see him before heading to bed himself.  They’d been given separate suites, of course—no sensible host would ask royalty to share their room with someone else.  Fortunately, their rooms were adjacent to one another, but the arrangement felt lonely.  He slept beside Nico most nights.  Nico always invited Will to join him in his room.

That was, unless he went looking for Will only to find him already sleeping.  Will sometimes unintentionally fell asleep with a book in his private study or curled up next to Bonnie for a nap that ended up lasting until morning.

That wasn’t likely to happen that night.  Will usually fell asleep quickly and easily, but his present restlessness denied him even the inclination to go to bed, so he was still up waiting to hear Nico arrive next door when there was a knock at the entrance of his chambers.  He sprang to his feet to answer it, but was surprised (and a bit disappointed) to find Midas on the other side of the door rather than Nico.

“Lord Midas,” Will greeted with a respectful bow of his head.  “Pardon my appearance.”  Thankfully, he still wore his waistcoat and could pass as decently attired, but he’d at least have put his coat back on if he’d realized that he wasn’t opening the door for his husband.

“Not at all; pardon the lateness of my visit,” Midas answered.  “I saw that the room was still lit and thought I’d check to see if everything is to your liking.”

“Yes, of course,” Will said.  “Would you like to come in?”  He would have rather asked Midas to leave so that he could go next door to check if Nico was in his room yet, but that wouldn’t have been proper behavior for a guest.

Unfortunately, Midas took him up on his offer and entered.  He shut the door behind himself, which Will thought was odd, but he didn’t have the opportunity to think about it much before Midas sat down and asked if he found his rooms satisfactory.

“Yes, very much so,” Will answered, sitting across from him.  “Every part of your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Midas said.  “I hope you feel welcome here.  I’m honored that the Prince’s consort chose to join him for this visit.  You already have quite the reputation here in Pluto.”

Will was surprised.  “Do I?”

“Of course,” Midas answered.  “You are a consor, as I understand?”

“I am,” Will said proudly, sitting up a bit straighter.  “I spent most of my summers studying in Venadica.”

“An awfully long way to travel from Diana,” Midas commented.  “Why didn’t you study in Delphi instead?”

“I often spent winters in Delphi, but my aunt invited me to study Venadica when I was a child.  My father sponsored me.”

“Of course, the Matestra,” Midas said.  “You come from an impressive family, Your Highness.  Does your father still sponsor you?”

Will faltered, but collected himself quickly.  “Unfortunately, my studies are on hold for the time being as I settle in to Divitia.”

“Unfortunate indeed, but understandable.  I’m sure it won’t be long before you continue.  You primarily research medicine, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, under the mentorship of Asclepius.”

“Another impressive name—even I have heard of him.”

Will swelled with pride.  He knew that part of the reason Asclepius had taken an interest in his studies was at first because of Will’s relationship with the Matestra, but he’d long since earned his place as Asclepius’ pupil.

“I must confess that I have an ulterior motive for discussing this with you,” Midas suddenly said.  “A private matter.”

Will blinked and glanced at the door, now understanding why Midas had closed it.  “Ah,” he said.  “Is it a problem with your health?”

“No, not mine,” Midas said.  “It’s my daughter.  This evening, I said she was studying abroad, but she’s actually here, in the manor.  She’s ill.  Very ill.”

It had been a long time since Will had last had a patient, but slipping back into the role of healer felt natural and comfortable.  “What have the doctors said?” he asked.  

“They’re at a loss,” Midas admitted.  “None of the doctors in Phrygia have your education.  I know it isn’t proper to ask this of a guest, but I’d hoped that you might examine her during your visit.”

“That won’t be any trouble at all.  I can examine her tomorrow.”

“I will be in your debt,” Midas said.  “And if it’s not too much to ask, I would appreciate your discretion, Your Highness.  She’s always been sickly, but we’ve kept her health private to avoid panic.  Since the Scarlet Delirium, people in Pluto have been especially prone to hysteria when it comes to disease.”

Will nodded, but he didn’t think it was that it was fear of hysteria so much as fear of scandal that worried Midas.  Illness carried a heavy stigma in Pluto.  In general, Venadicans were well-informed about matters involving health, but in his years as a healer, he’d had several run-ins with paranoid Plutons.  Some would only meet with him in private and would swear him to secrecy.  A few had gone so far as to disguise themselves before going to the sororal infirmary.  A cough could send a family into panic and anything less than perfect health brought a burden of shame.

“I understand,” Will said.  “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” said Midas.  “Tomorrow, I can have my son escort you to her while I meet with your—”

Midas halted at the creak of a handle turning and they looked up to see Nico opening the door.  He was still wearing his shoes, but had removed his coat and waistcoat and instead had covered himself with an open dressing gown.

“Your Highness,” Midas greeted.

Will might have seen Nico’s eyes narrow.  “I thought I heard voices,” Nico said.

“Were we keeping you up?” Midas asked.

That time, Will definitely didn’t imagine the coldness in Nico’s voice when he said, “No.  I intended to visit my husband anyway.”

Evidently, Midas picked up on Nico’s mood, as well.  “Right, well, I’ll leave you to rest,” he said.  “It was lovely speaking to you, Your Highness.  I’ll see you both tomorrow.  Sleep well.”

Midas didn’t wait for either of them to answer before he left.

Nico closed the door behind him.  He didn’t turn to look at Will before he spoke.  “You met with him alone,” he observed icily.

“He came to check in,” Will said.  “It would have been rude not to invite him for a chat.”

Nico made a dissatisfied sound.

“I didn’t want to, though,” Will added as an afterthought.

That didn’t seem to lighten Nico’s mood.

“Why have you been so angry today?” Will asked.  “Have I done something wrong?”

Nico sighed and walked into the room further.  “No,” he said, taking a seat next to Will.  “It’s Midas.  I don’t trust him.  Be careful around him.”

“Nico, I don’t understand why you have such a grudge against him,” Will said.  “You’re not...certainly you’re not jealous?”

Nico’s frown deepened.  “What?”

“Because if so, I’ll remind you that he’s old enough to be my father.”

Nico shook his head and curled his lip in disgust.  “That—gods, Will, no!  I didn’t even...no!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem—the problem is Midas.  He’s a dirty, lying, cheat and yes, it’s upsetting me that you’ve been so chatty with him but I am not jealous— ”  Nico broke off and cursed.  “ Now I’m jealous.  Damn it, Will, why did you have to say that?  I was perfectly not-jealous until you suggested it and now I can’t get it out of my head.”

Will doubted jealousy could manifest out of nowhere so suddenly, but he decided not to fight Nico on that detail.  “While I am wholly uninterested, I think it might be excessive to call him a ‘dirty, lying cheat,’” Will said instead.  “I thought he seemed friendly.”

“Friendly?”  Nico scoffed.  “Yes.  So friendly that he managed to talk his way out of one of the worst criminal scandals that Pluto has seen in the last decade.”

Will blinked.  “What criminal scandal?” he asked.

Nico sighed.  “So you don’t know,” he said.  “I suppose you wouldn’t have been in Pluto at the time—it must have happened while you and the other Venadican children were taking refuge in Delphi.  For a while, it was all anyone would talk about.  Midas was one of several noblemen discovered to be involved in an illegal baiting ring.  He made animals fight each other to the death for entertainment.  That’s why he’s so wealthy, Will.  He barely felt the economic crisis after the Scarlet Delirium because he made so much money betting on fights.”

“Baiting,” Will whispered in disbelief.  “But that’s been illegal in all the Romanus Terris since long before we were born.  How is he not in prison?”

“Because he’s friendly, just like you said.  He shed a few tears for the jury, identified a couple more conspirators, and paid a fine.  And that’s all.”

“Gods,” Will murmured.  He rubbed his face.  “You mean that all day long I’ve been chatting with a...a....”

“A greedy, selfish animal abuser, yes,” Nico said bitterly.

“But at the very least he shouldn’t be an earl.  How can he still have a title?  Why didn’t you take it away?”

“At the time, I had very little real power,” Nico answered.  “I was too young; ‘Duke of Angelus’ was more of an honorary title than a real position.  My father could have taken away Midas’ claim to the county, but he chose not to go against the wishes of the jury.  Now that I’m older, I have the authority to strip his title, but I still can’t.  Midas is very well-liked.  The public hates me enough as it is already, so imagine how they would react if I deposed him.  Believe me, I’ve discussed it with Reyna and it’s not a viable option.  The point is, he’s not in prison, he’s still an earl, he’s very wealthy, and I don’t know what he’s capable of.  If he has no problem sacrificing animals for a few extra coins, what else could he do?”

Will swallowed.  Should he tell Nico what Midas had asked of him?  He didn’t want to keep it secret, but regardless of what Midas had done, he and his daughter were entitled to medical confidentiality.  Plutons were especially private about their health.  It would be wrong of Will to disclose that information without permission.  

“I will be more cautious around him from now on,” Will said.

“You can’t let yourself seem at all vulnerable,” Nico said.  “Don’t give him anything he can use to manipulate you.  Did you talk about anything in particular?”

“He asked about my studies,” Will answered.

Nico nodded in satisfaction.  “Then he could have just been greeting you as a host.”

Will chewed his lip.  He didn’t like lying, but he took the issue of confidentiality seriously.  Anyway, what would Nico say if he knew?  Would he ask Will not to do it?  Will would never abandon a child in need of healing, no matter who her father was.

“Anyway, you don’t have to be jealous,” Will said abruptly.

“I know.  Midas has to be well over twice your age.  I’d worry about your judgment if you were interested in him.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t what I meant,” Will said.  “You don’t have to be jealous of anyone, ever.  You trust me, don’t you?”

Nico’s frown faltered.  For a second, he looked like he was fighting a smile, then he gave up and lost.  “I trust you.”

“Good.  Is that all that was bothering you today?”

Nico nodded, but then hesitated.  “Well, there was another thing,” he said.  “You used my given name in front of Midas.”

Will didn’t remember doing that.  “I did?”

“As you were saying goodnight.”

“Oh.”  He still didn’t remember.  “I must have said it without thinking.  Did I cause a problem?”

“Not really,” Nico said.  “I know this is the first appearance we’ve made as husbands and you’ve grown accustomed to more familiar forms of address, but I’d rather keep that private.  Especially around Midas.”

“I understand,” Will said.  “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Nico nodded.  “Thank you.  I wanted to talk about visiting the mines, but that can wait until morning.  We ought to rest.  The journey here was tiring.”

Will let out an annoyed puff of air.  The journey hadn’t been tiring.  All they had done was sit.  They’d even napped in the carriage.  Why did people always insist that long carriage rides took so much energy?

Will didn’t say that out loud.

“Would you like to stay with me?” Nico asked.

Will looked at him.  “Stay?”

“In my room.  To sleep.”

Will blinked, then he smiled.  “Oh.  Um, yes.  Yes, I would like that.”

Maybe resting wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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