#I think I already had a tablet but man the LEARNING CURVE

[weaponizedmoth]

Don't y’all hate how difficult it is to photograph trad art? Anyway, here are pitiful attempts.

[generalluxun]

Crossing Blades: ML fanfiction Chapter 2/3

Second of three. Link here, then full text below the cut!. I hope folks are enjoying it some. introduction of several new heroes this chapter.

Crossing Blades Chapter 2

Two maniacs, no Ladybug, and no akuma; Purrge’s blood was boiling. Her claws dug into the roofing she crouched on, scoring the tar paper in her frustration. She scented the air; Paris had taken a whole new, and disgusting, dimension when she learned she could do this. There was a tang to the minions this akuma used. Their armor smelled of oil, sweat, and age. The largest concentration was ahead of her. Town hall. Daddy.

Purrge tensed, coiling for a leap that would take her down into the plaza.

“Hey! Hey- uh, wait?  Please?”

She turned and struck.

“Heyyaaiiee!” Crack.

Purrge’s fist met something solid that checked her punch. Her senses caught up with her instincts, registering the scale-clad person cowering behind a now-cracked tablet like a shield. The broken screen was framed by a curved case that hadn’t saved it from this impact.

His undignified yelp matched his half-baked outfit. A pale aqua hoodie framed narrow, startled looking features. The thick-rimmed glasses in place of a mask magnified his eyes making it hard to-

Purrge bit the tip of her tongue and shook her head. Snake! A flick of her eyes took in his stuffed-pocket cargo pants. That was a first. If she avoided eye contact it all screamed one thing, dork.

“How many of you are there?” She growled.

He lowered the tablet, flashing a timid smile. “Of me? Just the one, babe.”

The delivery was so forced, that doofus smile so sincere, it made her want to retch. In an act of betrayal, it came out as a snort instead. “Here to try your luck too?”

She flexed her fingers, stepping back to give herself room.

He waved his hands, “Nonono! Ha, no. Well, um maybe? I mean, I was told I was supposed to get the cat miraculous back-”

Purrge coiled.

“-butbut I was never told when, and there’s an Akuma right? Ladybug needs help. I think my little dude is cooked, so I don’t even know if I can use my power. How about we play nice? We help Ladybug, we beat this Akuma, then I can get my butt kicked.”

He cracked that pathetic smile again and spread his hands.

“What do you say, Ms. Kitty?”

Geek.

She snorted again, then growled. Rage ebbed without asking permission. “It’s Purrge.”

“Purrge? I’m… uh, call me Refrain!” He stuck out his hand so enthusiastically he almost fell over.

She extended a hand, but instead of shaking she waggled her clawed fingers near his palm. “As in, Refrain from beating you senseless?”

He jerked his hand back, then rubbed the back of his head, shifting his hood. “Uh, as in the part of the song that you can’t get out of your mind… Man, that sounded cooler in my head.”

Snort. Damnit. “It would have to.”

“It’s my first day. Sooo, whatcha say about us getting that Akuma?”

Did he just finger-guns at me?!

Purrge turned back toward city hall, gesturing. “I was on my way to do that when you escapees from the zoo decided to jump me.”

Refrain stepped up beside her. Purrge forced herself not to tense. He scanned the horizon with a lost look. “On your own, or have you already linked up with Ladybug?”

She gave a desultory shrug, “She’ll show up. She always shows up. I’ll just have it all wrapped up when she does.”

Refrain turned to her with an apprehensive grimace, “Or… or… hear me out. We work with her and it all goes so much smoother.”

“Feh. I don’t need her.”

“Yeah, but, the people of Paris are gonna need her Miraculous Ladybugs.”

She was snarling before the emotion was fully formed, “The people of Paris? What’ve they ever done for me?”

Refrain winced, “I, uh, ooo- um, yeah well I don’t know anything specific, but does that matter? Heroes are supposed to stick up for the little guy, because that’s what makes them a hero. Getting thanked is just a bonus.”

His words disturbed something in the fetid bog of her emotions.

Purrge had him by the throat and bent backwards over the edge of the roof before he could scream. “Don’t tell me how to be a hero! I’m the best hero this town has ever seen- will ever see. I’ve beat three of you now, all by myself!”

He grabbed onto her forearm for balance. She could feel his throat move against her palm as he gulped in fear. He glanced down reflexively, but when he looked back at her the fear was gone. Those big brown eyes held a twinkle.

He flashed that idiodic wannabe grin again. “So that means you gotta drag El-Be and me along; to show us the ropes, right?”

I could drop him. I could do it. No one would see. He’d survive, it's not that far. The snake would protect him.

Purrge gritted through a clenched jaw. “Maybe I will. Keep up, loser.”

She dropped him.

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

“Ninooooo! Adrieeeenn!  I’m gonna kill you guyyyysss!” 

Alya was having zero luck. She ran down deserted streets, dodged into storefront nooks, and took turns largely at random. Luckily the knights seemed more preoccupied with marching up and down the streets than actually chasing people. Still, it paid to be safe. The sound of heavy metal shod feet caught her ear and she prepared to bolt again.

A groan from the nearby alley stopped her.

Someone hurt! She scurried to the mouth of the alley, “Hello?”

A moan answered her, and a shifting of the shadows. As her eyes adjusted a figure emerged, her size, dressed in outlandish green, heaving himself upright to sit against one wall of the alley. “Little girl? You should not be out here. There is-” A wince cut him off.

Alya was busy gaping. An impossibility sat before her, but if Paris had taught her anything, it was the impossible was only improbable.  Still, her analytical mind tried for a justification. As she moved to try and help him up she asked, “Who are you? Why are you out here dressed as the Jade Turtle?”

He had reached up to accept her offered assistance but stopped at her question. “You… know the Jade Turtle?”

Fixation exploded. Alya perked. “Of course I know the Jade Turtle! Who doesn’t know the Jade Turtle?” She counted off on her fingers. “He’s appeared three times throughout history. Once during the American Civil War, and twice during World War II. Each time he appeared it was to protect refugees fleeing violence. His full suit of superpowers is unknown. We don’t have any pictures of him, but your look matches the woodcuts that were made after his appearance in the U.S. His big hat is especially iconic, with some people believing he may have been all the way from China. It does match several of the Qing designs at the time. He gained a very small following amongst the creole he helped save during his first appearance. I actually have one of the hand made turtle shell charms they started wearing.

Accounts describe him as quick on his feet despite being armored, utilizing hand to hand combat against foes armed with modern firearms. It is believed he possessed some kind of barrier powers as well. That would explain the name. Speaking of names- one mystery is how we managed to tie both appearances together, so far apart. Those he saved and led to safety in the U.S. used the name Jade Turtle, but his appearances in Europe were briefer. It doesn’t seem like he actually spoke to any of those he saved over here.”

Alya remembered to take a breath.

The masked man had levered himself up against the wall, and in her pause he spoke wearily, “Carelessness. I saw the headline of my appearance in a Paris paper. ‘The Jade Turtle can’t be seen here!’ I cried. It was ill-fate that the man beside me was a reporter himself, who decided to connect the dots and establish a trail that my pursuers were able to follow.”

Alya was sifting through more of her mental notes when his response sunk in. “You really ARE the Jade Turtle?  But that would make you like… one hundred and fifty!”

He smiled, only to wince, “One hundred and eighty six, actually.”

Reporter mode, “Are you immortal?”

He laughed, coughed, and sagged. “No, clearly not. Time comes for every one of us. It cares not for the burdens we bear.”

The sharp metallic tromp of a formation turning in unison cut into their conversation. Alya caught the knights out of the corner of her eye, three blocks down and marching towards them.  She scooted into the alley just as Jade Turtle pushed himself upright again.

He reached for her, “Hide if you cannot run. I will stop the-”

He flinched and staggered.  Alya dipped herself under one of his arms and lifted. “You can’t fight anyone. How about I get you someplace safe?”

He was heavy -not surprising with that armor- too heavy when his legs gave out. They both fell. He waved her off, “No, I will slow you down. Go.”

Like hell.

Alya scanned the alley. Why did it have to be the one clean alley in all of Paris? Aha!

She picked up a fist sized rock, it wasn’t much.  She turned to face the mouth of the alley as the battalion closed. “If they’re gonna get you, they have to climb over me to do it.”

She heard motion behind her, another rise and fall. The knights were getting closer, maybe they would pass by? The marching stopped. Archaic French commands she couldn’t quite translate were barked out. She doubted her luck was strong enough for that to be a good sign. Alya gripped the rock tightly in her suddenly sweaty palm.

Something was shoved into her other hand. “Wayzz, Shell on. The command. Quickly.”

Alya registered the bracelet and was putting it on at the same moment. Obsession turned into advantage, she didn’t hesitate. “Wayzz! Shell on!”

Energy surged through her, lifting her from her feet. Prepared, she could feel the subtle influence tickling her mind, seeking out her heroic self image. In that moment of perfect rapport she fed it plenty to work with. The light let go and she landed on her feet with a perfect balance Alya Cesaire had never possessed.

She flexed her gloved hands. The weight of the Heater shield on her arm felt good, right, natural. Her world was focused through a pair of sturdy goggles. The chain-and-plate armor encasing her felt like a second skin. The Hobnailed boots on her feet were heavy. She would not be moved.

Black Armored knights appeared at the end of the alley, swords and halberds held at the ready.

Alya Slammed her fist against her shield and bellowed at them, “Run! Run you minions of evil! Testudine is here! This city is my ward, and all who would harm her shall break themselves upon my might!”

The knights raised their weapons and charged.

Awesome.

Testudine met them halfway.

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

Ladybug dipped and swung around towards the north side of city hall. Adrien hadn’t met her at the rendezvous. Worry flooded her mind as she worked to close the circuit and find him.

There! On the next row over, aqua and… Ladybug ground her teeth, black.

She landed and got a second shock on top of the first. Ladybug brought her guard up. Purrge coiled for a pounce. Aqua-boy waved his hands, jumping between them.

Ladybug caught him by the front of his hoodie. “Who are you? Where’s Aspik? Another thief?”

He yelped. “No, no I met, uhm, him. He was too weak to move, he passed off his Miraculous. I’m Refrain. I uh, I brought help!”

He gestured over his shoulder to where Purrge had gone from tense to snickering. The cat waved fingertips at Ladybug. “I’m help now!”

Ladybug weighed trusting this new player. Still, even if he was telling the truth... “Too weak? What happened to Adr- Aspik?”

“I did!” Purrge volunteered, still in a fit of giggles. “Though, he tried to happen to me first, so it’s his fault, not mine.”

“You!”

A red haze rose in Ladybug’s vision. The thought of Adrien somewhere, hurt, and her having put him in harm's way; having not been there for him, again, was too much. She lunged. Purrge leapt to meet her.

Both slammed headlong into Refrain, who interposed himself between them. The Snake hero let out a yelp, but persisted, “She… is here right now. She wants to fight the akuma. You know, the guy messing up the entire city? Can we beat each other up after the bad guys go home?”

Ladybug recovered. She took a deep breath and cast a glare at Purrge.

The cat stuck her tongue out then turned and strolled a step as if the collision hadn’t just happened. She even fluffed her hook-strewn hair, “It’s not my fault. It’s everyone else who is fighting me.”

Ladybug felt a little better when she caught the incredulous look Refrain shot Purrge’s turned back. She untensed, “Fine. Akuma first.”

Ladybug reset her focus, bringing what she had observed on her circuit into focus. “There’s a platform in the square. They’re building something on it. They’ve got half an army marching around in blocks. I haven’t seen the akuma proper yet. It might be the Mayor?”

“It’s that stupid fencing teacher,” Purrge supplied.

Ladybug’s brain digested this new fact quickly without protesting the source. She was in full analysis mode. “D’Agincourt? I guess that kind of explains the knights. Wasn’t he running for Mayor too or something?”

She looked to Refrain who shook his head, “I don’t follow politics.”

Purrge chimed in sickly-sweet, “The big loser lost big to a bigger loser. Now are we going to stop him or what?”

“I still don’t have enough to form a plan.”

“That’s what your lucky charm is for, duh.”

Refrain was moving between them again but Ladybug stepped around him and thrust a finger under Purrge’s chin. “That’s not how it works! I need enough to go on before I-”

“I could do it. Maybe you should hand over those earrings.” That smug expression filled Ladybug’s senses.

“Lucky Charm!” Emotion moved before reason could stop it. In a flash of red down came… a pair of scissors.

Ladybug stared blankly at them, cursing herself for letting the thief get to her.

“Well… scissors…sharp… his sword maybe? It would make sense for a fencing teacher… and the knights. I still need more info though.”

Purrge opened her mouth, but Refrain covered it with a hand. “Great. How can we help, Ladybug?”

Ladybug thought. “You run interference with the minions, Refrain. You can use Second Chance if things go south.”

He yelped and cradled his hand. “Me? Versus an army? I’m not much of a fighter…”

She might not know him, but she needed him and Adrien had trusted him. Ladybug put a hand on Refrain’s shoulder, interrupting his inspection of his hand. “Hey, you’re new to this but trust me. The miraculous will boost your abilities past anything you might imagine. Believe in yourself, I believe in you.”

He still seemed skittish, but the flames of resolve flickered in those magnified eyes. “I’ll try, Ladybug.”

She nodded. “Good. While you do that I’ll engage the akuma.”

“Darkblade,” Purrge quipped.

Ladybug’s eyes drifted to the thief. How does she-? No time. “I’ll engage Darkblade. I’m sure once I’m down there the Lucky Charm will make sense.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Purrge grumbled.

“You, stay here, as backup.”

“WHAT?”

Ladybug shooed Refrain on his way with one hand while turning for the fight she knew was coming. “Look, as the strongest hero here. We need you in reverse, right?” Ladybug laid it on thick, “So you stay here. In the event we are in trouble, we will call for you. Until then just stay here… take a catnap.”

Ladybug backed up slowly, holding her hands placatingly.

It didn’t help. Purrge jumped. Ladybug tensed and blocked… Purrge sailed past her, bounced once on the gutter, and was off after Refrain.

Damn! Ladybug stuck the scissors into her hair and pulled out her yo-yo, bringing up the rear.

Ladybug caught the cat by the tail just as they reached the square. It earned her a backhanded swipe, but she was ready for it. “Wait! This is exactly why I wanted you to stay back. You can’t just go charging in!”

Purrge hissed. With a twitch of her hips that wire-tail in Ladybug's hands lashed painfully. Ladybug let go but stood her ground.

“We need to be careful. If Hawkmoth wins, it’s all over. This isn’t a game.” Ladybug tried softening her tone, “Just let me have a look first. You can smash once I know what we are supposed to smash.”

It rankled, having to make nice with someone she wanted to hogtie; with someone who had hurt Adrien. It bore fruit though. Instead of running off again, Purrge crossed her arms and strode sulkily to the edge of the roof. Ladybug followed and quailed inside at the sight of the square now teeming with knights.

Darkblade was making his way at the head of a procession to the platform. In the middle of the formation the Mayor shuffled along in chains. As Darkblade reached the steps a final structure was raised on the platform beside the flagpole.

No one in France could mistake that silhouette.

Darkblade halted beside the guillotine, turning to face André. He drew his sword but as he did a knight came running up, leaning in close to the akuma. What Ladybug presumed was a report took place.

Darkblade knocked the knight to the ground with a single blow and bellowed, “Fools! One rebel vexes you so?! Take reinforcements and handle it! Go!”

The knight scrambled away and fully half the soldiers in the square began marching off. Ladybug assumed it was Refrain’s doing until she caught sight of the snake hero lingering at the edge of the square two roofs over.

Ladybug was still trying to sort that out mentally when Darkblade’s voice rose again. The akuma had turned to André, and lifted the Mayor’s chin with his sword.“Not that it truly matters. Once we do away with the last vestiges of the nouveau riche I will raise my flag and all within the city will become loyal servants of the rightful ruler of Paris!”

He swept his sword toward the guillotine.

“To the block!”

Ladybug spun up her yo-yo, but Purrge caught it. The cat was grinning ear to ear,”Wait, wait, let’s see how this plays out.”

Ladybug yanked her yo-yo free. “We can’t let him be executed!”

Purrge waved her off, “Your miracle thingy will fix it. It fixes everything. It’s brought tons of people back from the dead.”

“It-!” Something didn’t add up, “It has? When?”

A shrill voice rose from below and dragged itself up Ladybug’s back, “You get away from my Daddy!!!!” She knew even before she turned to look.

Chloé stood at the edge of the square, hands on hips, and face screwed up into a foul little snarl. She seemed to realize too late where she was. Darkblade didn’t even have to give an order. Two knights broke from ranks to rush her. The blonde shrieked and fled back out of the square with them in hot pursuit.

“Interloper!” Darkblade’s voice rose in accusation, but it was too late for Chloe. What now?

Refrain had broken cover, running after Chloé only to seemingly realize that although half the army was gone, but half still remained.  He raised a hand in a timid wave to the blocks of assembled knights.

Ladybug’s heart sank.

Down below, Refrain raised his voice but had to begin again when it cracked. “He- uhm- hi! I’m supposed to keep all you guys busy. So umm…”

He reached for his wrist and twisted the bracelet there. Energy sparked along it, the lights lit up, blinked out, lit, three blinked on, all out again, then intermittent blinking. A wayward spark flicked against the screen of his tablet, briefly lighting it. Refrain tapped the bracelet a few times then gave a sheepish smile. Ladybug could feel the second hand flop sweat.

“Execute him!” Darkblade hissed.

“How ‘bout a song??” Refrain whipped the cracked tool from his waist and ran his fingers over the screen. Ladybug couldn’t make out the display from so far away but the opening chords of a song played just as the knights charged.

They froze. The music stopped. They rewound. The music began again. They charged. The music stopped. They rewound. The music began…

Ladybug let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She caught sight of Refrain’s eyes moving, his expression uncertain. He didn’t stop playing though, didn’t move from the same spot, didn’t alter the loop in the slightest. Another jolt of energy danced along the bracelet. Five lights blinked into being, but one winked out and stayed out this time. That was a timer Ladybug understood.

“He did it, now let’s-”

Purrge was already gone.

Cursing, Ladybug caught sight of the black cat just as she pounced the stage. Either via Darkblade’s power or out of range, the akuma and his followers there were still free to move. Knights charged and went down in a tangle of limbs and ruined armor. Darkblade didn’t though. His first swing lopped inches off Purrge’s mane, severing chains and spinning hooks free.  A follow up lunge nearly skewered her.

Stupid cat! Ladybug swung into the fight. She caught Purrge with her yo-yo this time, yanking the cat back. Claws almost took her head off as thanks.

“Stop!” “Get out of my way!” Their voices overlapped.

Darkblade growled, “What’s this? A melee? I’ll have both your heads as trophies for the city gates!”

He advanced and all of Ladybug’s time for thinking vanished. Slash, Slash, thrust, the next would have her eye. Clawed fingers on her shoulder, Ladybug was pulled aside at the last moment. A claw swipe scored the side of Darkblade’s helmet.  He hammered Purrge to the ground with his hilt. Ladybug leapt over her and aimed a kick at his head -miss. He turned to counter. Purrge lept on his back. Ladybug swung wildly, hoping to connect. Purrge twisted from behind him and kicked her in the shoulder, checking her assault. Darkblade’s sword sliced the air Ladybug would have occupied. He tried to catch Purrge’s outstretched leg on the backswing. Ladybug threw her yo-yo from where she’d fallen and knocked the blade off course. Purrge was shaken loose in the exchange. A breath- and the chaos began again.

They slewed across the stage like some lethal bacchaen brawl. Ladybug’s entire body was tingling with the realization that if this had been a one on one fight, she wouldn’t have lasted the first exchange. D’agincourt was a premiere duelist as a human, as an akuma he was a living weapon. The three way dance was the only thing frustrating him.

The frustration paid off though. He fended off a pounce from Purrge while also kicking Ladybug’s feet out from under her, but in the seconds of respite he howled, “Get That flag up, you curs! We’ll have no more dissenters anywhere in Paris once it’s done!”

*click*

It was almost a physical sensation inside Ladybug’s head. Everything slid into place. She knew what she had to-

A swordpoint flashed before her eyes. Ladybug felt the air splitting before it against her face. The stubby end of a metal baton saved her life.

“Get out of here you stupid, ridiculous bug!” Purrge spun the baton around and lunged awkwardly with it as a makeshift sword.

Darkblade parried and sent the weapon spinning away with his riposte.

Ladybug had time to regain her feet. She moved up behind Purrge. “Go all out. We need to keep him busy.”

The cat let out a bitter laugh and lunged, claws out. Darkblade’s sword swept across. She ducked. His blade hit the thick of her hair this time and she was already rolling her neck. The sword cut, but not everything. Chains and hooks wound it, binding. Her momentum carried her forward, twisting his weapon in his grasp. Claws scored against his chest once- twice. He got both hands on his hilt and yanked.

Ladybug saw her opening. She pulled the scissors from her own hair and threw.

Darkblade twisted aside. His sword came free. Purrge lost her advantage and half her coiffure. The Cat Snarled back over her shoulder at Ladybug, ”What was that?”

“Keep fighting!” Ladybug rushed up beside her, only to have to throw herself aside from Darkblade’s next assault.

To her credit, the thief did. Maybe it was the loose carpet of golden locks now littering the stage, but her attacks went from aggressive to unrelenting. A claw-toed kick sent Darkblade reeling. Ladybug’s own yo-yo managed to ring off Darkblade’s helmet in the opening. Advance, advance, advance. Ladybug thought for a moment they might topple him.

It showed how little she knew about combat.

Darkblade suddenly cried out, ”Match!” and swung.

He’d maneuvered them expertly. Ladybug was hemmed in by the edge of the stage. She stumbled. Purrge collided with her. They both went down in a tangle of limbs.

Ladybug had just enough time to wonder where it had gone wrong as he raised his sword, “Now, the Coup de grace!”

Purrge tried to push her off. The blade came down-

-and dissolved into a wave of bubbling purple energy. Darkblade staggered into the same. Mssr. D’agincourt landed on his backside, blinking in confusion.

Lucky. Ladybug didn’t hesitate though. She jumped to her feet and looked up. She caught sight of the dark shape fluttering away and snatched it from the sky with her yo-yo. The akuma was de-evilized and a white butterfly fluttered free.

Refrain slid down the flagpole. Two pieces of a ruined flag and the lucky charm in his grasp. He was practically beaming.  Ladybug tackle hugged him, stranger or no,  as relief bled from her.

He went down hard and winced but laughed good naturedly, “I got it right!”

Ladybug sat up and huffed playfully, “Well, I tried to make it pretty clear.”

He sat up too and reached up, sticking two fingers through a scissors-blade sized hole in his hood. “I got your point.” He withdrew his fingers. “Did you have to wreck my threads though? I just got them.”

Ladybug giggled. She was giddy from too many near-deaths. She plucked the scissors from his hand. “You bet. I can fix anything with myyy… Miraculous Ladybugs!”

She threw the scissors up and stood as the flood of magical creatures swarmed through the air. All of Darkblade's victims, the stage, everything returned to what it had been, and in some cases where. Refrain’s hood was repaired along with the rest. Ladybug straightened up and beamed with pride.

Refrain rubbed the back of his head, looking around the now mostly empty square, then back at her. “I have so many questions.”

He started and looked around.

“First of which is… where did Purrge go?”

Ladybug went from cloud nine to third basement. She searched high and low, turning in place. “She was right here!”

Refrain mused, “That’s one cat I never expected to move quietly.”

Ladybug dropped her head into one hand, “Another chance to get it back, gone.”

“A- ah- the guy who I got this from mentioned that too. What’s going on with that? Do I give you mine too?”

Two chirps almost back to back punctuated his question. Ladybug reached for her own earrings while Refrain raised his wrist to show down to 2 lights on the snake miraculous.

Mine must be at one. She thought fast. “Keep it, for now. Tell me a place I can leave a message if I need to get in touch with you. I don’t even know where the guardian is, or if he wants it, or anything really.”

Ladybug was already turning to pick out an anchor point for her yo-yo when it struck her how very true those words were. She didn’t have time for a crisis right now though. She spun up her yo-yo.

Refrain answered from behind her, “Uh- Snake Charmer statue in Royal Park, I go through there on my way home from ss-s-s  somewhere… every day.”

Ladybug picked out her point, “Got it, Bug Ou-”

“Thanks for letting me help you today.”

Ladybulk balked, lost control of her yo-yo, hooked the wrong antennae, and was pulled away off kilter. She just barely managed to shout back,”You’re welcome!”

Her feet barely touched the ground out of sight when the red glow enveloped her and she transformed back. Tikki spiraled onto the ground and Marinette collapsed to her knees. She knew she should get up and keep moving, but instead she just flopped down beside the kwami and looked up at the sky.

“Tikki, what is happening? A snake Miraculous? A turtle? A Guardian? What happened to Adrien? Where did Purrge go? What do I do with her? Should I have collected the snake right there?”

Tikki flew feebly over to land on Marinette’s open hand. “I can tell you what I know about the guardian and the Miraculouses, Marinette. I don’t know the answers to the other questions though. I’m a kwami, not a hero.”

Marinette let out a long sigh, still not moving. “I wish I could be sure that didn’t make two of us, Tikki.”

[spectre-fivee]

Over the Moon: Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8081 (wtf this is so close to Anakin’s secret password or whatever, also WOW this is easily the longest piece I’ve ever written)

Warnings: HEAVY smut, both male and female receiving oral, unprotected sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, heavy use of the word ‘master’, dom/sub play, slight brat taming, praise and humiliation kink, edging, slight force play & restraint

A/N: Hey yalllll I’m back with another smut LMAO this is a prequel to let me take care of you, my first obi-wan smut :DD this is LONG asf and includes a small backstory but I promise the majority of it includes smut scenes lol. I hope you guys enjoy and I love your feedback!! much love <3

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You were over the moon when you found out that you would be accompanied by General Obi Wan Kenobi on your next business trip.

Literally. Quite literally, you were over the moon. You had just coincidentally flown over Centax-3 and were now in pursuit to Coruscant's surface in preparation for your oncoming journey, and you were so beyond excited that you found it hard to contain yourself around your personal guards. Just as you entered the planet’s atmosphere, you decided you had enough of the automated briefing and muted the transmitter on your arm. You were too focused on the fact that you were going to be alone with General Kenobi for an entire day.

Well, night really. You had managed to catch that part of the briefing.

You could watch it later. As you packed, perhaps. It was fine.

Feeling like a little girl as you basically pranced back to your quarters, you lugged a small bag out of your closet and began to fill it with necessities. 

Being a senator for so many years had forced you into countless situations with General Kenobi, but never such as this one. When you met the Jedi Knight in the beginning of your career, the two of you clicked almost instantly. Over time, your admiration of the man blossomed into something...different. 

Oftentimes the general would escort you from the Senate Chamber itself all the way to your office on the third floor. He had always been so well spoken and full to the brim with witty charm, enough to make you feel like a total schoolgirl when you locked yourself in your office, squealing and jumping up and down after your encounters with him. Sometimes, you would accompany Obi Wan on walks both inside and outside the building. One time, he was kind enough to show you the gardens outside the Jedi temple on Coruscant. Other times, you were simply by his side in the senate halls, holding your stomach as you just about died of laughter. It was all you could do to keep yourself from absolutely melting when he looked at you with those glittering blue eyes, his lips curved up into a smirk.

Butterflies swarmed in a vicious frenzy as you packed your bag, your cheeks so hot you thought you might explode just at the thought of General Kenobi. You looked up when you heard a soft knock at your door. “Come in,” You had said before a guard stepped inside and informed you that you were leaving earlier than the time scheduled. You nodded and rose to your feet swiftly with a polite smile.

“That’s alright, I’m already prepared.”

***************

The only thing you had forgotten was to finish watching the automated briefing. 

Which, arguably, should have been at the top of your list. But somehow it had just slipped from your mind. Now, you were positioned in between General Kenobi and his commander, CC-2224, but you knew him as Cody. The two men remained quiet and Obi Wan tapped through the data pad in his hand. When you glanced at Cody, you couldn’t tell what exactly he was looking at or if he even had his eyes open under his helmet, he was so quiet. Either way, you cast him a polite smile when you glanced his way.

You felt kind of awful, really. This was, on your part, a mission regarding humanitarian aid, and you were the Galactic Republic’s representative in this instance. You didn’t know anything about this planet you were traveling to, only its name - Lelroth. You didn’t know the people’s conditions nor how much territory the Separatists occupied, that is, unless the citizens had decided to stand their ground.

A clone trooper’s voice came over the intercom of the transporter. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

You tried to peek at Obi Wan’s data pad in hopes of receiving any information. “Have you ever been to Lelroth?” You asked.

He glanced up at you. “No. Frankly, I have no idea what to expect.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” You muttered quietly. His eyebrows quirked up as he stared at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You...received the briefing, correct?” He asked, and immediately your palms began to sweat.

“Of course I received the briefing.” You responded a little too defensively. He gave you a small grin before looking back down at the tablet in his hands.

You glanced over at Cody nervously as if expecting a response. You felt stupid after your eyes fell onto his yellow helmet, hearing Obi Wan step away and enter the pilot’s cabin.

“You didn’t watch the briefing, did you?” Cody asked, his voice hushed and amused.

“No.” You said. “No, I did not.”

You heard his chuckle through the moderator in his helmet as heat rose to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile and punch him playfully, giggling slightly. He leaned closer and began to fill you in quietly, and all jokes fell aside when you learned of the planet’s condition.

Few months prior, Lelroth had fallen under separatist control after the population had been forced under Count Dooku’s submission. The Republic Senate had been receiving reports of just about anything you could think of to describe a humanitarian crisis. You stumbled into Cody a bit as the ship landed.

“We’re here.” The pilot announced as the hatch lowered with a loud, steaming noise.

You squinted as bright sunlight poured into the cabin, raising a hand up to block the sun as Obi Wan stepped out. Lelroth’s atmosphere was thick and humid as you followed him, listening to the dirt crumble beneath your feet as you stepped out. You gazed around the enclosing woods with a small smile, the saturation taking you by surprise after being stuck on Coruscant’s smoggy surface for so long. Though it was muggy, the air felt clean and fresh as you took in a deep breath. You swore you could almost taste the moisture on your tongue.

“Preferably tomorrow morning, yes. I’ll be contacting the council tonight and…” The general’s voice came in and out of earshot as you glanced over at the assault carrier you arrived on. You watched as the clones nodded swiftly at the Jedi’s words, saluting him one last time before the hatch closed and the ship descended through the trees. It was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived.

Obi Wan sighed and pulled the data pad back out of the abyss of his dark cloak before tapping at the screen again. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?” He murmured.

You laughed slightly. “Is my presence such a bother?” The tablet still held his attention as he flashed you a grin.

“Oh, yes. That’s definitely the reason.” He joked.

A sickening feeling started to grab at your stomach after hearing Cody describe the condition on Lelroth. You were unnerved, and regardless of the fact that you had a Jedi Knight as your company, you two were members of the Galactic Republic isolated on separatist territory.

“We should get going.” You murmured. “They’ll be expecting us soon.” you watched Obi Wan pull his large hood over his head as he murmured something under his breath, stepping forward and heading deep into the thick forest with you on his tail.

****************

The Lelrothians were a kind people. Their reaction to your arrival with the general was rather pleasant - they went so far as to throw a feast in you and the general’s honor. After meeting with the chief of the village you would reside in, you finally got a real understanding of the Lelrothians’ situation. You and Kenobi shared a grimaced glance as the chief went on to describe the state of his village alone.

He explained how a large percentage of the newfound members in his village were forced to flee the capital city after falling under a dark hand. You assumed the state of the capital was even worse than this small village as he reported substantial amounts of depleted resources. Running water had been cut off to many families and citizens could no longer supply food on their tables. The chief even mentioned the punishments some experienced for resisting - you weren’t surprised in the nearest after hearing tales of the wicked actions of General Grievous and his clanker army, but still...it was hard to hear.

“We were neutral ground,” You gazed over the chief’s descending head tails as he spoke. Dinek Kev was a twi’lek himself, his account thick and common amongst most of his species. When you glanced around the table, there had to be over fifteen different species in just the room alone. Sullustans, Ithorians, even a few Gungans and a Wookiee occupied a seat at the table. You smiled to yourself and returned your attention to the orange skin of Chief Dinek as he spoke.

“A peaceful people. Nearly everyone in this room is an immigrant or comes from one, somebody who was seeking peace. Other pacifist planets such as Mandalore seem to have been fine as they’ve remained neutral.”

“Believe me, Chief - Mandalore has been experiencing a great deal of their own internal conflict.” General Kenobi spoke.

“Forgive me, Jedi.” Dinek murmured quickly. “I’m just...desperate. I would have never taken the role of chief if it weren’t for Grievous and his army - I only want to protect my family and my home.”

You reached out and took Dinek’s hand, staring into his eyes sympathetically. “I’ll open it up for discussion in the senate as soon as I return to Coruscant. I promise you, Chief Dinek, we’re going to provide Lelroth with humanitarian aid and drive the separatists out of here.”

“I’ll speak with the council tonight.” The hood of Obi Wan’s cloak hung lazily around his neck as he murmured, stroking his beard in his typical fashion. His delicate blue eyes were glued onto his empty plate. Dinek squeezed your hand and began to thank the two of you profusely. You bit your lip, hesitant to discuss the requirements in order for any agreement to come through within the senate.

“Chief Dinek,” You started. “The villagers are going to have to learn to defend themselves.”

All you got from him in response was a simple blink,  a common reaction among those the Jedi come to aid. Most planets that fall under separatist control hold peaceful populations, those who don’t believe in waging war and therefore seeing no need for a military. You desperately wished it didn’t have to be this way. It was heartbreaking seeing simple, innocent lives dragged into the Clone Wars, and one day, you hoped that the galaxy would evolve into one where war could be completely evaded.

“Defend ourselves? You mean train us to fight?” Dinek asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

“That is why we’re here.” Obi Wan explained. The chief finally slid his hand from yours and seemed to recoil at the words spoken. “The Jedi can only aid so much, Chief. The Lelrothians need to learn to defend themselves in order to be sure of complete safety from the separatists.”

After a moment of watching the chief calculate in silence, he looked up at you two with an entirely different expression on his face. He glanced around the dim room and gazed over his people with a small smile curved upon his lips. His eyes darted to yours before Obi Wan’s as he spoke.

“You’re right. The Lelrothians are never going to evade this if we don’t take matters into our own hands.” You smiled at Dinek’s words.

“Good.” Obi Wan stroked his beard again.

“I’ll leave for Coruscant at dawn and begin discussion in the senate.” You announced.

“Yes, and that is when training will begin. Tonight I will get an idea of when reinforcements will arrive on Lelroth. We’ll have a very short timespan to train, I suspect.” The general uttered.

“General Kenobi and I will stay in contact and you’ll be the first to know the senate’s decision.” You concluded. Dinek took your hand again and smiled/ 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” As he spoke, music began to sound from the instruments held by those up on a small, makeshift stage. The villagers began to cheer and rose to their feet, clapping along to the tune that billowed out from various horns. You grinned as the chief stood and joined his people, taking a woman’s hand delicately and spinning her in delight.

You looked over at Obi Wan with a smile. He looked up at you and met your gaze with the rise of an eyebrow. “What?” He asked.

“Wanna dance?” You giggled. He merely scoffed.

“That would seem a bit unprofessional.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Oh, lighten up, General. They threw an entire feast in our honor, surely we can dance with them.” 

He smiled at you sarcastically. “I’ll pass.”

“C’mon. You know you want to.” You pressed, nudging him playfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answered simply.

“Just relax. It’s not like you’ll get kicked out of the order or whatever. It’s just dancing!” He glanced up at you in his seat as you stood, grinning down at him.

“You can be very nagging, did you know that?” He asked. You offered your hand, the same stupid grin plastered onto your lips. He scoffed again and reluctantly took it, rising to his feet slowly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He muttered with a grin as you pulled him over to the crowd and were instantly submerged by cheers, laughter, and celebration, having the time of your life with Obi Wan at your side.

**********************

The celebration soon came to an end and after a brief escort from Chief Dinek and a few of his men, you and General Kenobi arrived at the motel you would come to stay at briefly. The neon lights of the vacancy sign cast a bleached hot pink color onto the gravel beneath your feet. It crunched and crumbled as you stepped, tuning out of Obi Wan and Dinek’s conversation as you were led into the cramped lobby.

The wallpaper was faded and chipping in the room surrounding the front desk. A small Sullustan woman sat in an organically shaped velvet chair with a book open in front of her. Dinek stepped forward and quickly informed her that you and Kenobi were the reinforcements sent from Coruscant. You listened as she told the chief that there was only one room available, in which you and Obi Wan shrugged off. She thanked the two of you, passed over the room key and sent you on your way. As you trudged up the wooden stairs that led to the second floor, you heard Obi Wan sigh.

“Tired from all that dancing, General?” You chuckled. “You sure know how to get down.”

“Yes, but you on the other hand…” He trailed off, and when you looked back at him with a dramatic expression on your face, he chuckled.

You smiled and swiped the key card through the slot outside the door. “Whatever.”

The two of you didn’t think much of the fact that there was only one room available. It didn’t matter to either of you, because all motel rooms generally contain two separate beds, right?

Wrong. Apparently, all hotel rooms except this one contained two separate beds. Your jaw wanted to hang open at the sight of it, really. Obi Wan froze in his tracks when he entered the compact room.

“Not even a sofa?” you commented. The door still hung open behind you when Obi Wan turned and met your gaze almost frantically.

“There has to be a mistake.” He said.

“She said this was the only room available. Dinek said this was the only lodge in the village.” You mumbled, finally shutting the door.

“Right, well.” The general uttered and stroked his beard once again, beginning to pace as he did so. “I guess I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sleep on the floor, you have to train in the morning.” You watched as he traveled over to the chairs seated at a tiny round table in front of the window. They were a brilliant orange in contrast to the faded, once flamboyant green walls.

“No. The chair will do.” He said as he sunk into the cushion. “See?” He planted his feet onto the stem of the table, pushing it back so it allowed him to stretch his ankles over the surface. You only stared at him with your eyebrows raised.

“It beats the floor.” Obi Wan shrugged. You shook your head, smiling as you sat on the edge of the bed. You were facing forward, looking at the painting that hung on the wall before you. The sheets on the mattress were an ugly plaid that was laced with oranges, reds, greens and browns. It was very dated, but at the same time it almost felt...homey.

“We’re adults, aren’t we?” You chuckled. “This is only a business trip, General. Stars, if we have to we can just build a pillow wall between the two of us.”

When you didn’t get an immediate response, you glanced over at him only to see the amused expression on his face. But it was the kind of amused look that nearly belittles you and makes you feel completely and utterly ridiculous.

“Yes, and a business trip it will remain.” He uttered. “I do hope you’re joking.”

Your cheeks grew hot in flustered embarrassment. “Uh - I mean, yeah. Totally kidding.” You darted your eyes to your feet and began to swing them back and forth childishly. You heard chuckling from the general’s end but didn’t dare look over at him. You didn’t need to, you already knew he was sitting back and staring at the data pad again.

Moments passed and you had nothing else better to do than sift through the dusty magazines that sat below the bedside table. The lamp atop the metal surface cast a warm, dim yellow light through the room. It made you feel almost cozy as you flipped through the old pages, reading the articles and gazing at some of the most beautiful alien models you had ever laid eyes on. “Wish they had a holonet in here.” You muttered, bored and wishing for some kind of noise instead of this awkward silence that hung in the air.

Time continued to drag on and it grew late enough for you to decide to head into the bathroom to change your clothes. You turned the handle and listened as the faucet began to run while staring at yourself in the mirror. The general seemed grumpy after your comment, and you weren’t sure why. It was easily played off as a joke, you thought...besides, you only wanted to save him from a little back pain and stiffness in the morning.

You were only trying to be polite. And, well...you were secretly hoping for a little more than that.

As you splashed warm water onto your face, you heard Obi Wan’s voice from the other side of the door and watched as his figure cast shadows across the tile you stood on. The automated voice of Master Yoda and Master Mace Windu echoed around the small room as the general began to discuss with the council.

When you stepped out of the bathroom and crawled under the covers, you tried your best not to eavesdrop on his conversation. You stared at the magazine in your lap blankly.

All he was doing was pacing, it was rather distracting. You wished this place had a radio or something, or that it was safe enough to take a short walk. The meeting between Obi Wan and the other Jedi Masters seemed to last eons as you found your eyelids growing heavy. You stared at the cover of the magazine, it showcased a twi’lek woman posing in front of a ship. You yawned, cast it aside and allowed sleep to take over completely.

******************

When you woke up, it was still dark outside. The lamp beside your bed had been shut off by Obi Wan, but the one hanging above the chair he sat in remained lit as he set down the data pad with a sigh. You weren’t sure what had woken you up, and as you gazed at the general while you laid on your side, you didn’t really care. 

You could tell he was weary as he blinked slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. Glancing away, you felt slightly creepy as you stared at him for so long. But, I mean, could you really blame yourself?

After moments of silence, Obi Wan was the one to break it. “My apologies. I didn’t realize that the meeting would take so long.” His voice was deep and a bit croaky as it came out.

“It’s okay.” Was all you said as he reached for the light above him.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the bed?” You made sure it was apparent that you were joking as you smiled and chuckled, gazing at him as you did so. He paused for a moment, staring at you before his lips curved up into a grin.

“I see that pillow wall is still up for discussion?” He teased, and you laughed again.

“C’mon, it won’t bite. Besides, I’m only trying to save you from a little back pain.”

“Senator, are you implying that I’m old?” He chuckled.

“No, but I do understand that the dancing was already a step over the line for you.” You giggled, smirking. “Hurry up with that decision making please, I’m tired.”

Obi Wan laughed slightly before reaching up and turning off the light. To your disappointment, he didn’t stand up from his chair. You sighed softly and shut your eyes, letting go of the situation as you focused on falling asleep again.

Just as your mind began to wander, you felt a weight sink into the mattress beside you. Your eyes flew open as Obi Wan climbed into bed next to you, only to stare at the complete darkness that surrounded.

You grinned. “Did you change your mind?”

He sighed as he settled in. You could feel him, mere inches away from you as he relaxed. “Don’t make me regret it, Senator.”

You chuckled as darker thoughts began to consume you, reminding yourself that this was a business trip - strictly business. You wondered if Obi Wan thought the same, but you shot that down with another reality check as well.

You wanted to say something, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were worried that Obi Wan was actually trying to sleep, and you didn’t want to disturb him, or worse - make things even more awkward like earlier. Now, more than ever, you knew you were never going to fall asleep with Obi Wan Kenobi lying next to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

“I can practically feel how restless you are at the moment.” He murmured.

“Am I moving too much or is it your spooky voodoo magic?” You asked. He began to chuckle softly.

“Do you mean the Force?”

“Yeah, that.”

“It doesn’t take a Jedi to feel you staring at me.” The grin in his voice made you feel even more embarrassed as you rolled over onto your opposite side, your eyes squeezed shut.

Obi Wan hesitated for a moment before murmuring, “I never said stop, darling. I don’t mind.” His words ignited a spark that released trillions of butterflies swarming in your stomach, and you couldn’t stop the gigantic smile that was forming on your lips.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” As you responded, you felt the general’s weight shift behind you.

His voice came from above you now. “Oh, you didn’t hear me clearly?” You felt his hot breath against your ear as he spoke his next sentence. “I said, I don’t mind your staring. I just wish you would stare at me when I could see you doing it.” His mumbling spiraled into your ear and descended down your body, pausing right in between your legs. You crossed them tight in instinct, nearly gasping.

“I thought you said this trip was strictly business, General.” You breathed.

“Like you said, I already crossed the line when you forced me to dance.” He joked. “Besides, I think we’ve both waited long enough for this moment.” His voice was hushed and gravelly and Stars, sexy as it rumbled into your ear. You turned until you felt his lips were hovering over yours in the darkness, the mattress creaking as you did so.

“You didn’t seem to think that way earlier.” You mumbled, a fat smirk on your face as you teased him. He sunk himself closer to you and you swore you felt his lips brush against yours for a second.

“Nobody needs to know,” He whispered. A moment of silence passed before he dove his lips into yours, drawing out a small sound of surprise from you. You felt his forearm come down beside your head and he let out the tiniest of groans. You knew this was coming judging by your previous dialogue, but you were still in shock. For a moment, you seemed to be dead weight as Obi Wan crawled on top of you. The only thing that moved was your lips against his until realization finally kicked in.

It started with your hands, which rose up swiftly to grab the sides of his face. His beard felt scratchy beneath your fingers in the best way as you hooked your legs around his waist. You had always wanted to touch him like this, to feel and move with him as your mouths were connected and one was on top of the other. It was something you could only fantasize about for the longest time until you had to tell yourself it was never going to happen. But now, it was happening.

His lips were as soft and welcoming as the pillows beneath your head as he kissed you. It was deep and passionate and almost aggressive, and that alone confirmed to you that Kenobi wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

Following your hands came your tongue as you pressed it between his lips gently, silently asking for entrance into the warm cave of his mouth. He granted permission and you felt his hand entangle in your hair when your tongues met. You sat up slightly, pushing yourself into him further as you dragged your teeth across the pink valley of his bottom lip. The grip nestled in your hair tightened in reaction and you giggled softly into him.

He tasted of fresh mint, and you found yourself wondering if he had brushed his teeth mere moments before this. He was dominating and absolutely thrilling as he rolled over, allowing you to straddle his waist and dip your chin down to his neck to leave a series of pecks down his flesh.

“Someone’s eager,” he commented, and in response you bit down slightly into his skin. He made a small startled noise in response before chuckling, abruptly flipping you onto your back. He left you breathless as his lips collided into yours again, and he groaned when you arched into him. His hands were absolutely everywhere. They ran from your jaw to your neck and then down to your forearms, back up to your shoulders and down to your breasts, down to your waist to grab at your hips...seemingly all at once.

He squeezed his fingers into the meat of your thighs and you groaned, raking your own through his hair. You felt like his touch was all you needed as your tongue slid against his. 

Darkness still engulfed the two of you. Obi Wan’s skin was on fire when he caressed you, the heat between your legs was set ablaze as he dipped his chin down, his lips traveling down your neck slowly. You wanted to see him, his face when he looked down at you, his blue eyes clouded with lust. You wanted to look into his eyes and absolutely moan his name, you wanted to -

Obi Wan’s lips left your skin just above the hem of your shirt. He paused for a moment, holding himself before you and panting. “What is it?” You asked.

“Take off your clothes.” He commanded. You felt him lean to the side and squinted when the lamp was switched on. You didn’t respond as your eyes adjusted to the light, you only peered at him rather dumbly. You watched when he dragged his tongue across his lower lip. His eyelids looked heavy when he stared down at you.

“Did I stutter?” He asked. Your heart picked up pace and you grinned when you grabbed the neckline of his robes and yanked him forward.

“Why don’t you take it off for me?” You mumbled, blinking innocently. You felt your wrists fly above your head, elbows bent slightly as they tied together under an invisible grasp. You were confused for a moment as the general began to run his hands underneath your shirt, caressing your sides and traveling over your breasts briefly. It took a moment before it finally dawned on you that he was using the Force as your restraint.

He slid the fabric up ever so slowly and stared at your stomach when it was slowly revealed. He continued, his big warm hands sliding up your skin and pausing just as your breasts were revealed. He murmured something inaudible before tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you down on the mattress so his lips were level with your nipples. You moaned quietly, biting your lip as he began to kiss them. Your cunt was throbbing at this point and the muscles in your arms grew tired from being in such an unfamiliar position. You shut your eyes, but all at once the sensation on your breasts was removed as Obi Wan straightened his posture and finished ripping off your shirt. It came over your head quickly and was tossed to the side as if it were nothing.

“Can I have my hands back?” You giggled, breathless as he gazed at you.

He left soft, sweet kisses on the inside of your arms, his eyes twinkling as he had you paralyzed by the Force. “Not yet.” He said, and you didn’t have time to read the expression on your face before his lips were on your breasts again. You pushed your hips up against his chest as he continued, whining as he bit down gently onto your nipples. His lips descended down the center of your stomach, leaving slow, wet kisses on your skin before pausing just above the waistline of your pants. His blue eyes finally blinked up at you, and he was smirking.

Your cunt was throbbing so damn hard you wondered if he could feel it at this point. “Please,” You breathed. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet,” Obi Wan repeated before curling his fingertips around the hem of the fabric and dragging it down your thighs.

“This...isn’t fair.” You grunted as you tried to pull your wrists from their restraint. It was no use, it felt like your arms were paralyzed in this position. Your pajama pants were now being thrown to the side just as your shirt was, and the general was leaving small pecks up the length of your legs whilst holding strong eye contact.

“Please, general - “ your cunt felt like it was on fire when he lifted his chin to look at you.

“Did you...seriously just call me ‘general’ in this setting?” He paused, chuckling.

“Well, I - “ you were flustered and frustrated at this point. “I don’t know, what should I call you?!” You had snapped. He only grinned with a shrug before he continued, pulling at your skin with his teeth. 

He dug his fingers into your sides, and in between slow kisses, he said, “Doesn’t matter...whatever feels...most...comfortable.”

You thought about it for a moment. Yeah, you supposed referring to him as General Kenobi was a bit strange as he was actively stripping you of your clothing. But it still didn’t feel right calling him Obi Wan, either. You weren’t sure why.

Your wrists were finally released as his lips reached the corner of your inner thigh just below your flaming heat. Your panties still hugged your hips when Kenobi glanced up at you, seeming like he had forgotten to hold your arms in place.

Without giving him any chance of reaction, you slid out from under him and pounced on him like a fucking animal. You giggled and he shared your smile as you sat on him and began to rid him of his robes.

Once they were off and you finally got to shower every possible centimeter of his skin with kisses, but he was quick to flip you back over so you were trapped beneath him again. You struggled to get atop of him with a grunt, but it was useless. He was already pinning your wrists to the sheets again and barricading you with his own weight. 

“Behave.” Again, his voice rumbled right into your ear, hot and thick as he nipped at your earlobe. In response you arched your back into him and whined, digging your fingernails into his back.

“Let me touch you - “ you grunted. “I want to...to make you feel good. I can make you feel so good, Master.” You moaned, letting the words fall from your mouth without even a second thought. In an instant, his fingers were around your chin and you were being forced to look into his pretty eyes.

“What did you call me?” He asked.

You giggled. “You heard me.” 

A minute went by before he moved his hand from your chin downwards, slowly tightening around your neck. “Say it again.” You smiled and tilted your head back, shutting your eyes and moaning the word again.

“Master.”

He let out a sound similar to a growl before he rolled over, positioning yourself on top of his lap. You could feel his large erection beneath you, and it was in the perfect spot as you rolled your hips forward and crouched down, allowing your lips to meet his.

He kissed you aggressively, placed one hand on the back of your head and forced you into him while the other snaked underneath the fabric of your panties, finding your clit almost instantly. You whimpered against his lips and continued to grind against his cock before using your own hands to remove yourself from the barricading fabric. 

You were so desperate to feel him inside of you. He grabbed your chin again and forced your lips to part, staring at you with dark eyes and a wicked grin as he pressed the pad of his thumb to your lower lip. “So desperate for it, aren’t you?” He mumbled. 

You huffed and tossed your underwear to the side before pressing your lips against his ear and murmuring, “Can you feel how wet I am for you, Master?”

He grunted and moved his hands to your hips, forcing them down onto his cock. You rocked them forward, letting the tip slide over your clit and through your slick folds with a moan. Fuck, this felt good. You lapped at his earlobe and giggled before continuing. “Just imagine how good it’ll feel when you put it in, so warm and wet and tight - “

“You’ll want to shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work.” He growled, and a wild grin spread over your face before you positioned him below your entrance. 

You took him in slowly with a long moan and straightened you back, your breasts high and prominent for him to see. “Fuck,” you moaned. Your eyebrows furrowed as he filled you up.

Obi Wan grunted. “Stars, can’t you go any quicker?” He was frustrated as you giggled again.

“I think this feels fucking good.” You moaned again. “Your cock is so - “ you were cut off by his hand on your throat, forcing him down to his own face. He didn’t say anything, just silently forced your lips against his. It made you lose control of your pace, plunging down onto his entire length at once, drawing moans from both of you as you kissed.

“That’s better.” He mumbled against you. “Now do it again.”

You brought your hips up once more and slithered your tongue into his mouth, allowing them to fall back down, your cunt swallowing him whole in one stroke. Just as you started to kiss his neck again, you were flipped onto your back for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Would you just let me - “ The familiar grip on your chin cut you off, and your eyes were forced into his. With his other hand, he brought your knees to your chest and positioned himself at your entrance. He absolutely rammed himself inside of you without any issues, and your eyes widened when you gasped. 

“I thought...I told you...to behave.” Obi Wan grunted in between his thrusts. Your fingers found their grip in the sheets beside you. Your back arched and you moaned while he pumped himself in and out of your wet cunt.

“If this is what I get for misbehaving…” you panted, tears pricking at your eyes from them being shut so tight. “...then I guess I’ll have to do it more often.”

General Kenobi let out a low groan as he continued thrusting into you, remaining his quick, hard rhythm. Your eyes met his as the two of you moaned, and his hand found its way back into the roots of your hair as he muttered, “Say it.”

“Master,” you mewled as he tugged on your hair, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he thrusted into you. “Master, your cock feels so good - “ his thumb was on your lip again when he interrupted you.

“Such filthy words coming from this pretty little face,” he murmured. “You like being dirty, don’t you? You enjoy being choked when you misbehave, hmm?”

You didn’t respond, your eyebrows only curved up when you moaned. His hips rolled forward and his cock was still sliding in and out of your folds. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, Master.” Your hand released its grip on the sheets and traveled down in between your legs to gently play with your clit, but Obi Wan stopped you, removing your wrist sharply.

“If you want it, beg for it.” He said slowly.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “Please play with it - Master, please just touch my clit and…” you trailed off with whine as you felt his thumb slowly circling around it, agonizingly slow and so, so hot. You whimpered and rolled your head back into the pillow, tangling your hair against the cotton.

“Does that feel good, darling? Tell me how it feels.”

“Yes, fuck, it feels so good,” You panted, your eyes squeezing shut again. “It feels so fucking good, I might...I might cum,” you continued in between whimpers and moans. “Master - please let me cum.”

“Good girl.” He rasped before removing his thumb completely. You let out a sob as he pulled his length out from you, watching as he began to stroke himself when he lowered his head between your legs. “Such a good girl, asking for my permission.” He murmured before sliding his tongue up your heat ever so slowly, stopping at your clit to circle around it.

You whined, bucking your hips against him, grinding on his face as you babbled. “Fuck...this feels so good, your tongue, shit, I want your cock again - “

“You’ll have to wait for it,” he mumbled against you. Whining, you sat up and propped yourself on your elbows as you panted. You were a mess, and you continued to plead with him until he had enough of it and grabbed you by your shoulders. He forced you onto the floor, sitting on your knees as he sat on the mattress in front of you.

“If you won’t shut your mouth, I’ll just have to do it for you.” He muttered before pushing your head down onto his large cock. You let out a satisfied moan and made sure he was staring at you, remaining eye contact. You lifted a hand to stroke the base as your tongue swirled slowly around the tip, bobbing your head back and forth steadily.

Obi Wan moaned and shut his eyes. “Stars.” He murmured.

You released the tip with an audible pop, allowing a string of drool to fall from the edge of your lower lip. “It feels good, doesn’t it Master?” You planted your tongue to the base of his shaft and slooooowly dragged it up prior to rolling it over the tip and taking him into your mouth again. His breath hitched in his throat.

“You’re so filthy, do you know that? You’re so...good at this, you must have...had - practice...Stars, pretty girl...how are you so good at this?” He mumbled, grunting and moaning between the words that spilled from his mouth.

Again, his shaft left your mouth and you spit on your palm before using it to stroke him up and down. You blinked at him all innocent and doe-like. “I like it when you talk to me like that. Will you cum on my face, Master?”

Obi Wan blinked and grunted, thrusting his hips up into your palm. “You’re obscene.”

“But you like it, don’t you?” You planted a kiss on his tip before gliding your hands along his thighs and rising to your feet. You leaned forward and lifted his chin using your index and middle finger, smiling. “You like seeing me like this. You like making me your dirty little slut, don’t you, Master?” You blinked again and smiled sweetly before swinging your leg around his lap, straddling him.

He was absolutely mesmerized. “Don’t give me that look.”

You did it again, smiled softly. “Or what?” You challenged.

Just as your cunt was about to swallow his length again, you were thrown onto your back strongly and the general’s hand was once again tightened around your neck. His lips were on your ear and his fingers were dancing around your clit as he rammed himself inside of you. Your eyes filled with tears when you cried out, savoring the sudden sensations engulfing you. You moaned, feeling your voice vibrate against his hand.

“I like punishing you, you know.” His voice was low, and you moaned as he licked your ear. “You’re such a good girl when you want to be.”

“This isn’t...much of a punishment.” You grunted. He bit down onto your earlobe and you whimpered.

“Oh, we haven’t gotten to that part yet.” He rasped into your ear. His pace quickened and his fingers felt glorious against your clit. Your movements synced with his perfectly. You could feel yourself quickly approaching your climax as he kissed the skin on your neck, hitting all the perfect places when he pumped into you. It was as if he knew exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it.

You felt yourself caving in and desire dripped from your tongue as you moaned, “I’m gonna cum.” Just as the words fell, everything stopped. Obi Wan’s fingers and his cock left your cunt all at once, and you let out a cry just before his eyes met yours.

“Like I said before,” his lips brushed against your own as he purred into your mouth. “We hadn’t gotten there yet.”

You already had come down almost completely from your previous euphoric state when his fingers glided inside of you. You writhed and moaned under his touch and Stars, this man sure knew who to put his hands to work. When he lowered his lips back down to your clit, you thought you would just about lose your mind. “Fuck.” You moaned. “Please, Master. Let me finish.” You pleaded.

“Quiet.” He muttered before continuing. You obeyed and only continued to moan under his force, biting your lip and rocking your hips against his face as he pleasured you. His free hand slithered up your body and intertwined his fingers with your own as he worked in between your legs. You squeezed his hand so hard that you thought it would just about snap off. Obi Wan finally paused, blinking up at you from in between your legs.

“Are you going to behave now, darling?” He asked, still slowly working his fingers in and out of your cunt as he spoke. You nodded quickly.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes. I’m going to behave, I-I’ll be a good girl for you.” You said then added, “Master.” The general chuckled before instructing you to get on your elbows and knees, to which you obliged and rested your front end onto a cushy pillow. You arched your back, ass raised, and giggled when you received a slap on your ass before Kenobi positioned himself.

He grabbed at and pulled your hair, raising your head so you could see him out of the corner of your eye. He planted a kiss onto your temple before murmuring, 

“Pretty, pretty girl.”

Then, he rammed into you so hard and unexpectedly that you gasp and cry out his name. He clearly doesn’t catch it, and you shut your eyes as a single tear falls, continuing to cry out and whimper beneath him. Fuck, it’s amazing, and it’s everything you had ever fantasized it would be. You swear you see stars as he continues, pumping in and out of you again, again, and again...this position seems so much better than before, you thought. His grip is so tight on your hips that you think it may leave bruises, but hell, you love it. You want him to leave marks on you.

You think of all the times before that were filled with nothing but harmless flirting and charm. Now, everything will be different. You giggled at the thought of changing in the morning and seeing the bruises he left on your skin. You could feel yourself approaching your climax just at the thought of knowing that in this moment, you were his.

You almost didn’t want it to end, but you were so desperate to finish after having it ripped from you at the very edge. You were sweating, panting, and groaning the word “Master,” over and over again. “I’m gonna cum,” you said heavily.

“Go ahead.” Obi Wan seemed to gasp. Another tear fell down your cheek and you cried out louder than ever before as you crashed down onto him, all around him, everywhere. Absolutely fucking everywhere, and if it weren’t for the Jedi’s weight holding you up, you would’ve collapsed down into the mattress already. It hit like a fucking train wreck, and he remained his steady pace as your walls closed in onto his cock. You assumed he could feel your shaking, and when your breath heaved in and out of your lungs as you slumped against the pillow beneath you, you smiled a lazy smile.

The sound of Obi Wan Kenobi grunting and letting out a long, high-pitched moan as he came undone inside of you was just about the sexiest thing in the entire galaxy. He collided into the bed beside you, panting as he stared at the ceiling. You finally allowed your hips to fall and rested on your stomach, you head turned to face him. Beads of sweat rolled across his skin when he looked at you, and your thighs still quivered against the sheets.

He dragged two of his fingers softly underneath your chin. “Beautiful,” was all he could make out as he huffed beside you. You shut your eyes, that lazy smile still plastered to your face.

“Do you...think anybody heard us?” You asked, opening your eyes again. You gazed over his beard and his strong features as he peered at you.

“Oh, without a doubt.” He began to chuckle.

“Whoops.” You giggled. He rolled over and pressed his lips to yours briefly before responding.

“If I’m being honest, I really couldn’t care any less.” His voice was husky when he smiled as you pulled him back down, kissing him again and again until you fell asleep in your blissful state.

****************

Tags: @ifvckedurmom @thingsistan​ @lizajane3​ 

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[randombtsprincessa]

Brush His Picture

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright​ for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining​ for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub​ for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?” 

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games? 

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms. 

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

[helgabatwrittings]

When your world comes crashing down don't cry

His mind kept racing between everything he had learned. It was all he could think about lately. Alya and Nino are Rena Rouge and Carapace. They know about each other. Ladybug knows that they know. Ladybug was the one who gave that secret away. Ladybug didn’t tell him. Because they must keep their identities a secret. And they all think he is annoying. That’s why Ladybug doesn’t tell him anything. Because Chat Noir is annoying, and he can’t be trusted.

AO3

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

Pretending everything was okay was becoming the most strenuous task each day.

Especially when one hasn’t slept for almost a week.

A week…

A week has passed ever since Nino told him just how annoying he was. It made sense actually, the more he thought about it, the clearer it got.

Adrien was annoying, that was a fact, he has always been like that and that is why his father never wanted to spend time with him, it was why his parents have never let him go to school, they always said they were protecting him, and now Adrien knew exactly why…

They just did not want him to realise how bothersome he was.

It was why Ladybug… why she-

Prrrrr Prrrrrr Prrrrrr

The alarm interrupted his jumbled thoughts. Adrien sighed. Getting out of bed was also becoming the most strenuous task each day.

“Are you going to turn that off so I can proceed to sleep?? I was in the middle of eating this amazing piece of camembert” Plagg grumbled, his nasal voice still thick with sleep.

Adrien turned to his side and with a heavy hand, he grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm, the missed texts from Nino not going unnoticed. He just couldn’t find any strength to engage in any conversation his best friend was starting. Not that it mattered anyway, he would probably only bother him and then Nino would just get sick of him just like everyone else did. Just like Nino already had with Chat Noir. And Adrien didn’t want that. Adrien would never want that. He had lost too many people already, so he might as well try to save the few relationships he still has, even if he must keep them at arm’s length. It’s still better than nothing, right? Even if that crushing void of loneliness was growing inside him every day.

It was with an increasing effort that Adrien finally managed to get out of the bed, his limbs feeling like lead. He walked to his bathroom, not noticing the black blob staring right at him with downcast eyes and dropped ears.

After going through his usual routine, Adrien just stood in front of his mirror checking for any imperfection that might put him in trouble, like he did every day. A paler, skinnier version of himself looked right back at him with heavy dark bags under vacant eyes. His lower, chapped lip trembled slightly, but he quickly managed to get a hold of it, the same couldn’t be said for the lump that had settled itself in his throat for a couple of days now. Adrien suddenly broke eye contact and fumbling through the top drawer, without really looking at it, without really looking at anything, he finally felt the familiar shape of his concealer. And with a professional mannerism, he applied it on every imperfection, carefully moulding that sickly looking boy in the mirror into the face of the Gabriel brand.

Breakfast was, once again, all by himself, and Plagg of course, but he had to remain hidden in case anyone was to suddenly enter the dining room. For some reason, Adrien kept staring at the main door to the room, still hoping that his father would appear just to spend some time with him before school, but as usual, no one interrupted the suffocating silence that was becoming more and more unbearable each day. He even found himself hoping that Nathalie would appear, in all her stoic presence, with her tablet in hand to inform him of his schedule, even though he was perfectly aware that she was currently bedridden for some mysterious illness everyone was trying to hide from him.

He missed Nathalie, he still heard her every day through the tablet, but it wasn’t the same. At some point, his mum would only speak to him through a tablet when she got so sick she couldn’t leave her bed, and no one dared to explain to him what was happening.

The sight of his food got blurry as Adrien blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape. He took a deep shaking breath to fight the nauseating wave that crushed him. Once again, his appetite was absent, he sneaked the cheese under the table for Plagg and with that, Adrien went to the car, to start another day.

School was… School used to be the highlight of his everyday life, it was finally something Adrien had fought for and won. His first ticket to freedom. School gave him a chance to finally live in the real world, outside the four massive walls that made up his bedroom, and that for the longest time, had been his whole world. But now it just seemed pointless.

For the first time since he started attending public school, Adrien was actually feeling on edge at the idea of going there and meet his friends. His stomach was constricting itself, accentuating the ever-present nausea that had settled since that day, and the feeling seemed to worsen at each kilometre the car got closer to the building.

His mind kept racing between everything he had learned. It was all he could think about lately. Alya and Nino are Rena Rouge and Carapace. They know about each other. Ladybug knows that they know. Ladybug was the one who gave that secret away. Ladybug didn’t tell him. Because they must keep their identities a secret. And they all think he is annoying. That’s why Ladybug doesn’t tell him anything. Because Chat Noir is annoying, and he can’t be trusted.

Do they also think Adrien is annoying? Do they also rant about him behind his back? Is that why Marinette doesn’t seem to stand being around him for too long? They have talked about it, and she assured him that they were friends. Marinette has done a lot to help him, like convincing his father to let him go to New York. But again, she does help everyone she knows. Of course, she would help him, even if she finds him annoying. Marinette is that nice.

How should he act around them? The knot on his stomach was becoming unbearable. How was it that he was feeling hot and cold at the same time? That there was this electric sensation running all over his body and making the tips of his fingers go all fuzzy, while his chest was beginning to burn as well. The lump on his throat was making it hard to breathe, no matter how much Adrien gasped for breath, it seemed that no air was reaching his lungs, which were blazing with the effort. Oh, God! Is this how he’s going to die? At the back of his father’s limo, on his way to school? His face felt wet for some reason. Was he crying? Why was he even crying?? He’s so ridiculous, crying for no reason whatsoever. This was the reason why everyone seemed to get tired of him fast, he was just an unstable mess. Why would anyone want to deal with that??

“…rien…” Adrien felt something press against his cheek.

“Adrien!” Apparently that something was Plagg. Thank goodness the divider was up so Gorilla couldn’t see the shameful pity party Adrien was throwing at the back of the car.

“C’mon kid, breathe with me…” Plagg was floating right before his eyes, taking deep exaggerated breaths so that Adrien’s sluggish mind could follow his request.

Emerald eyes connected as Adrien’s trembling breaths evolved to more stable ones. The knot on his stomach was starting to untie itself, although Adrien knew that it would never go away completely. He was used to it anyway. He blinked rapidly, successfully containing the tears that had started to leak during his episode.

“Adrien…” Plagg rarely used his name, “Maybe it’s better that you stay home, you can still ask Gorilla man to turn back…” Plagg was looking at him with concern, sad eyes and dropped ears complementing his worried expression. He hated that he was the cause of it. He hated that he was dragging everyone down with him.

He shook his head wildly, not trusting his voice to sound secure. He had to go to school. How would he even explain why he skipped school? His friends would ask, his father would ask, and he really didn’t have the energy to come up with any excuse. Adrien just had to pretend everything was alright, he was used to it, pretending was as natural as breathing for him. Even if it was becoming harder and harder each day to seem detached by everything that was happening to him lately, not that he would ever tell anyone what exactly was happening to him lately.

Shaky fingers searched through his messenger bag, looking for the small mirror he carried with him almost all the time, along with the concealer that for sure had been washed down by his ridiculous crying.

Once again, Adrien hid all his imperfections and insecurities behind a fresh layer of concealer.

“Adrien…” Nino was talking to him. When had he left the car and entered the classroom? The blackboard Miss Mendeleiev was writing on, was filled with fresh formulas, of a different subject from the last lesson. Which meant that they had already gone through the correction of homework and had started talking about a different thing. When had they done that? Adrien was in the car, having just barely recovered from a panic attack, and now he was in the middle of Physics class. The time between those two moments was lost to him.

A nudge on his left side made him flinch.

“Woah, dude, calm down, it’s me!” Nino whispered, while defensively raising his hands.

Trembling lips curved to form a shaky smile. It was the best Adrien could do for now.

Unfortunately, said smile didn’t seem to be enough to reassure Nino, as the latter raised his eyebrows in concern, silently asking Adrien if everything was okay. Adrien nodded quickly, his eyes immediately drifting to the blackboard ahead, putting an end to their silent conversation. He should try and pay attention to the lesson anyway. Physics was his favourite subject so it shouldn’t be hard. He could at least pretend to be paying attention to class. Adrien was getting sicker and sicker of pretending…

[pluviophile-imagines]

Shiggy hand 🕴🕴

I gotchu anon

You think, maybe, that you’re being a little heavy-handed (pun absolutely not intended, but hilarious nonetheless).

Really, it’s the oldest trick in the book. You used to scoff and roll your eyes at the girls who would do it with their crushes in high school—oh, if they could see you now, a secret villain trying to make a pass at your infamous boss.

To be fair, Shigaraki’s hands are quite nice, large and slightly veiny but in a nice way, with long fingers that aren’t quite spindly or skeletal but just thick enough. They’re deadly, though; if his touch were less lethal you’d have done this weeks ago. Instead, it’s taken days of planning with Magne and Toga to get a solid plan in the works. But you’re certain it’ll be worth it—it’s an investment, a present you’re hoping both you and he will be thankful for in the future.

Magne informs you as you walk into the bar tonight that the package you ordered had arrived, and that Toga had already delivered it to Shigaraki. He’s not out in the main area with the others, but he’ll make his entrance now that you’ve arrived. You’re pretty sure past the first week of joining up he’d never missed a single day you’d visited (and to be fair, that could be written off as simply being a good leader, considering your appearances are a lot more rare than those of your other associates save perhaps for Dabi, but you like to think he wants to be around you).

Sure enough, not even three minutes after you make yourself comfortable at a small table in the corner away from where everyone else is sitting, Shigaraki stalks into the bar with a small package held in one hand, pinky up like always; you’ve always found that cute.

“What’s that?” You try to act coy as he comes to find a chair across the table you’re seated at. You’re pretty sure he knows you’re behind this; he’s not a fool, and Toga’s not the quietest of your colleagues (though none of them are exactly quiet right now as they greet their leader quite loudly and he solidly ignores them in favor of, well, you).

“Toga gave it to me.” He’s willing to play along at least, and you’re fairly certain that’s a good sign. Occasionally when you set him up like this he’ll be a bit more amused. If anything, he looks more nervous; he’s not wearing Father, but he’s keeping his head low, letting his hair drape over and provide some cover for his crimson eyes.

Five fingers brush against the shipping envelope, quick and efficient, no need for a knife. A single sealed package is left on the table in the dusty remains. He picks it up, two fingers raised this time, and inspects it.

“She said they were anti-fouling gloves.”

“Artists use them.” You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand and looking up at your boss through your eyelashes. “They reduce smudging for traditional mediums, friction with tablets…”

They’re black, made of nylon, covering his pinky and ring finger and velcroing around the wrist. Costing less than $10, you’d actually gotten three pairs, because you’re pretty sure there’ll be a bit of a learning curve getting them on.

“You seem to know an awful lot about a present Toga got me.”

He definitely knows you’re behind this, then, but still no clear indication of if he’s put two-and-two together as to why, or even if he’s more excited or nervous for what you have planned.

Instead of getting yourself worked up thinking about that, you reach forward and gently take the packaged gloves from his hands, busying yourself with opening them.

“I think they’ll suit you.” It’s a bit of a struggle; kind of embarrassing, but you play it off by ignoring it as you take out your pocket knife and cut the package entirely, leaving you with a pair of identical black swaths of fabric. “There we go.”

You don’t allow yourself to hesitate or give him a chance to take them from your hand. Dropping on, you reach forward to take hold of his left wrist, pulling it towards you so that you hold his hand over the table right between the pair of you.

Shigaraki’s hands are weapons, this you know; you’ve seen him in action plenty of times between sparring and watching the news. You’ve never quite had the chance to touch them like this—actually, now that you think of it, you don’t know if you’ve ever really touched them at all. He’s not the most tactile person; even when you’ve sparred with him he hasn’t bothered to help you up.

This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have thought you could get away with it.

But when you pause halfway to pulling the glove over his fingers, he doesn’t let you retreat. His free hand comes up, three fingers holding you hostage so you can’t set down the glove.

Your breath hitches. You glance up to see him staring at you, face no longer hidden behind that blue hair and eyes locked on yours, and the intense look in those irises makes your heart beat a little faster. You can’t quite place what emotion he’s trying to get across, something like anxiety or anticipation or excitement. He doesn’t say anything, but the message is loud and clear: don’t stop. Keep going.

So you do.

You pull the glove all the way onto his wrist and velcro it closed. His gaze moves to it now, and you watch as he slowly moves to plant four fingers onto the top of the table, then solidly presses his thumb down. Nothing happens. There’s a little hint of a smile that quirks his mouth as his eyes dart back up to you, then immediately to where your own hands lay laced together on the table before you.

That’s enough of an invitation, you decide. You lift your right hand just as Shigaraki removes his left from the table—you’re pretty sure he’s caught on—and raise it so that it hovers, almost touching.

Then you press your palm to his, fingers bowed back so they still don’t touch. He’s warmer than you expected; you’re not sure why you expected his hands to be cold, but somehow you did, and it’s a pleasant surprise that they’re not.

His eyes never leave where your hands touch, anchored there, but you’re captivated by his face. You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow and decide to go further.

One by one, you press your fingertips to his (or rather, as much as you can, because his are long and on a notable few yours don’t quite reach), pinky and then ring, followed by middle and pointer, and then thumb. Still gauging his reaction, you let your fingers rest fully, hand entirely pressed flush to his.

You hear him sigh; a quiet sound, one you’re pretty sure you weren’t meant to hear but cherish nonetheless. He’s stark still, stiff and unmoving, and you’re floored by how much you like this simple touch.

Is it intimate? You can’t really tell. It’s strange; you’re pretty sure those high school girls who flirt this way aren’t this stunned by it, but to be fair none of them are doing it to an S-class villain whose hand could kill them with a simple slip-up. Your heart is beating fast; you wonder, fleetingly, stupidly, if he can hear it. Now that your fingertips are also pressed against his, his warmth is more obvious, sending gooseflesh rising up your arms.

It’s dumb, you think, insecurity sinking into you. Shigaraki probably thinks you’re a fucking airhead. But the words come automatically; you’re possessed by the spirit of those little high school girls you used to envy as a first year and they spill out as if drilled into your mind.

“Wow. Your hands are so big compared to mine…”

Behind you, all the way at the other side of the bar, Dabi lets out an emphatic groan. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You whip around towards him, shooting him a glare and flipping him the bird to get a lazy eye roll in response. Ordinarily you’d get at least a little huff of laughter from Shigaraki for that, but he stays uncharacteristically silent, which pulls your attention solidly away from Dabi and back to the man you really want to be talking to because damn if that didn’t make you all the more insecure.

You’re not sure if you’ve given Shigaraki or yourself too much credit, but this was clearly a bad idea. Either you’re too awkward to pull this off or he’s too awkward to pick up your signals. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. Either way, you can feel your face burning.

You move to pull away, removing your palm just barely, but Shigaraki’s hand stops you. It follows, as if desperate to keep you there, and in the same motion his fingers shift.

He moves them to the right just slightly, aligning with the gaps between yours, and then tentatively threads both of your fingers together, resting the pads of his on the back of your hand.

Your gaze shoots up from your now linked hands to his face. His Adam’s apple bobs again. He might not have Father to cover him, but he’s tipped his head further downward so that curtain of pale blue hair shields his whole face from you—you can’t tell if he’s still staring at your joined hands or if he’s moved on, but you’re decently certain he’s still looking at you.

“I can’t wear them often or I’ll get out of practice going without them, and I can’t risk that,” he says softly, almost reverently; you get the feeling he might be talking about you. His head tilts up slightly and you decide, quite suddenly, that you’re very glad he’s been covering his face. He’s giving you a look that takes your breath away. The way his red eyes are wide and blown and soft like a villain’s should never be is not something you think you want anyone else to see. It’s yours; you want to keep it all to yourself.

He gives a little squeeze and you swallow thickly as his mouth quirks up, just barely. “But maybe I’ll keep them on just a bit longer.”

[soukokuwu]

! urgent! Hello Rachel Can I request just an comfort cuddling in bed scenario with Dazai? I'm so done with everything at the moment Everything is too much, the work , the school I'm so stressed out. My best friend (TW self-harm & suicidal thoughts/attempt?) told me she cut her self again and swallowed like 15 tablets..... I wouldn't say that it triggers me anymore but I'm feeling so bad because I don't know how to help her. 😔

THE PERFECT ESCAPE.      genre. fluff, just pure fluff      synopsis. he strives to be everything you give to him.      word count. 1.4k      author notes. hi! i’m so sorry to hear that, i really hope that on your side that you can find comfort in this. my fluff isn’t too good but i do hope it makes you feel at least a little better. and i know the overwhelming feeling all too well, if you ever need to vent/talk my dms are open okay, anony? <3

favourite book in one hand with the other twirling in his own brown locks, he hums a tune he’s made up in his head while his eyes gloss over the page he’s flipped to. it’s a book he’s read countless times and he already has the whole thing memorised by now.

still, he’s addicted.

one other thing he’s addicted to?

your love.

it’s been on the back of his head for a while now — what makes him so attracted to you? it’s different with you. how is it that someone like you, who’s so simple to understand, so, in lack of better vocabulary, ‘layman’, manages to pique his interest? he thinks of it all the time. everyone is normal in his mind, with the exception of ability users, of course, but then, why is it that only you manage to retain his interest?

more often than not, you’re the only thing that remains a constant in his mind, occupying a permanent spot in every thought that crosses it.

it had taken a while, but how is it that you’ve managed to stop making him question how much he deserves every ounce of happiness you’ve bestowed upon him? sure, people might find dazai osamu a remarkable man, one they’d both fear yet crave as an ally. but the man in question finds you absolutely exceptional.

when he thinks of you he thinks of jovial footsteps skipping across the hardwood floors of your shared apartment. he thinks of cotton candy smiles accompanied with contagious laughter. he thinks of bright, alluring eyes brimming with determination. he associates you with the sun in winter, and how good the warmth feels against his skin. he associates you with the calm after the storm, the reward for every hardship he’s been put through.

which is why the moment he hears the keys jingling outside the door, his eyes shoot up, staring up ahead at nothing in particular; at the random dust motes floating through the air. something is off about the way you unlock the door. it’s you; there’s no question about it, he can hear the familiar click-clack of your heels as they uncharacteristically trudge in, any of their usual mirth missing.

and when he watches you pass through the bedroom doors, flinging your purse harshly against the dresser, he knows he’s right. something’s happened with you — he can usually tell at one glance what it is, but today the possibilities find themselves all jumbled up in his mind, like information overload.

oh, that must be it, isn’t it?

your habits are usually followed through each day, but not today. today you don’t even make an effort to get a change of clothes first before heading for the bed (where dazai’s usually already waiting before you get home). so now, dazai doesn’t let you slump down onto the bed. he catches you before you hit the mattress, allowing your head to find purchase on the comfort of his chest.

just like a switch, instead of overflowing determination, tears start spilling from your eyes, dissolving into the cotton of dazai’s plain white shirt; the one you got him as a moving-in-together present. he had felt bad about not getting you anything (he didn’t even think it was a custom to, which you agreed, but you had just felt like you wanted to give him something). it’s very soft and comfortable, which is why he wears it almost everyday.

soft and comfortable — just like you.

now he wants to be that for you. to be the warmth that you envelop and let yourself go in. the safety amongst unknowns and the shelter from the storms. it’s hard considering he’s typically known for being the exact opposite — the one who stirs trouble instead of soothing anyone from it. but for you he tries, because you’re the only one alive capable of making him want to bring out the good in himself.

but he knows better than to ask you about it, he knows it’ll just make you even more frustrated. besides, he’s smart enough to realise the ‘information overload’ he felt earlier is the catalyst for your mood. dazai always knows, and in this moment it is no exception. he can hear from your suppressed sniffles and the subtle clenching of your jaw that you’re trying to hold it in, trying not to cry so much. now this, he doesn’t understand why. do you not feel comfortable around him to let yourself go?

“cry as much as you need to, belladonna, i’ll be here for you, all the way.”

you’re receptive to it, as he can tell by the way you clutch on to his shirt tightly, your nails bound to leave crescent-shaped indentations on your palms. you continue to pour your emotions out through your eyes, with dazai patiently waiting, one arm round your back and the other pulling locks of your hair away from your face.

he never once thought that he would ever associate tear-stained cheeks and humid heat with perfect, but that’s what he thinks now. but no, that’s inaccurate. he thinks the crab dishes you make and the way the sun hits your face is also second to none.

“hey,” dazai calls out your name, planting a kiss upon your eyelids before flashing you a confident grin, “whatever it is, i know you’ve got this, okay?”

in comes your self-deprecating laugh, a sign of your inherent doubt in your own abilities, or rather, the lack thereof. “i just feel like i’m screwing everything up and that everything’s just piling one on top of the other and…”

dazai lets you ramble on, lets you get that weight off your chest. doesn’t interrupt you with pointless, empty sugar-coated consolations. instead he makes sure you tell him of every single thing that’s bothering you now (of your own volition, because he never forces you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with). and when you finally fall silent save for the sound of your heavy breathing, he knows that there is something that’s still stuck in the back of your head. something that surpasses the average problems that school and work proposes.

but he doesn’t press. instead, you find him baring his soul. a different kind of comfort, the most effective one in your book, and it’s still comfort all the same.

“i think, despite everything i’ve been through,” he lets his digits caress down from your temple to your chin, curving his index finger and tilting you upwards so he can look into your eyes as he tries to tell you of something important, “you’re one of the strongest people i’ve ever met.”

your mouth is slightly agape, as though you wanted to say something but you decide against it midway. dazai chuckles knowingly, “you know i’ll never say things i don’t mean, belladonna —” a peck on the lips, and he licks the saltiness away — “never to you.”

everyone can remind you of how strong you are, but none of them will ever carry the weight that dazai’s brings. with him you know he means it, you know he’s serious. because he never takes these things — or you, for that fact — lightly. and you can’t seem to think of how good you must have been in your life to deserve someone like him; someone who knows to be patient and makes you an exception although he’s not one to be known for doing so.

you feel special, wanted, significant.

and he doesn’t let up on it for the rest of the night. he leaves you for just a moment, so you take the chance to slip out into something more cosy. this means oversized sweaters and shorts. and you are pleasantly surprised when your boyfriend comes into the room armed with snacks and hot chocolate, which, in his head, represents a delectable heat to shelter through the storm.

he even has all your favourite movies and series lined up in a folder on your smart television, choosing one at random to start with while he lets you settle into his arms. all through the shows, he does subtle things like feed you a piece before feeding himself, and lightly squeezing your arm in a constant pattern (which you later learn on your own is morse for ‘i love you’). it’s in these little things that surprisingly touch you the most.

it’s in how he doesn’t — despite knowing many things — actually know how to be the least bit comforting yet he tries anyway, even to go so far as to act like he knows what he’s doing. it doesn’t escape your notice. you know that dazai osamu is many things; a suicidal maniac, a feared enemy, a questionable lover (to others but never to you). but one sure thing is, to you, he’s a perfect escape.

he’s perfect.

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @smoochi-dazai @animatedarchives please ask me to be added/removed! <3

[bedlamsbard]

Part 12 of the other side AU concept, the second epilogue sequence!  At least one more sequence after this before I either start revising or just keep on going as concept writing.

Previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

About 4.6K below the break.

***

Humidity made the rock of the cliff face slick against his fingers, forcing him to pay extra attention as he made his way up it.  He clung to the seemingly sheer rock with his fingers and boot-toes stuck into grips too small for most humans to manage for more than a few meters, relying on the Force to keep him from falling.  Heights had never bothered him, but he still didn’t look over his shoulder at the vast spread of jungle beneath him; he needed all his focus for the climb itself.

“Sure,” Ezra Bridger muttered, the words so soft that they were closer to being a thought than voiced, “ninety-nine percent of the time it’s ‘sit in this cell until we can think of something better to do with you,’ but it’s that one percent of ‘you’re a Jedi, please do this incredibly dangerous thing that no stormtrooper can pull off’ that gets you.”

The unfamiliar weight of both the sniper rifle and the pack slung across his back made the climb a little more awkward than he would have preferred, but he didn’t mind it.  Going anywhere without a weapon right now would be a bad idea, not to mention the fact that he was still a little impressed that Captain Pellaeon had given him one at all.  More than one, as it happened; he had a blaster pistol holstered at his hip and a couple of vibroknives secreted elsewhere around his person.  Pellaeon didn’t know about the blades.

Despite the fact that the humidity was so thick that the growing fog was just short of being rain, Ezra couldn’t resent his current position.  If he fell – and it wouldn’t take much – then not only would it be an ignominious end, but it was likely that no one back at Chimaera Camp would even notice his absence for a few days.  If they did, Pellaeon would probably assume that he had made a break for it.  It was an option that Ezra had considered and discarded given their current circumstance, but he was keeping it open if those circumstances happened to change.  He knew roughly where they were in relation to the Chimaera’s crash site, but he was also aware that there was nothing space-worthy left on the star destroyer. Aside from the ships back at Chimaera Camp, there was only one other option to get offworld, and Ezra wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

It felt good to have his hands on the living stone of the planet, to feel fresh air – and yes, the fog – on his bare skin, to lick his lips and taste the slight tang of the moisture of a new world.  He had spent nearly all of the previous six years on the Chimaera; the Force was everywhere, but it was different in space than it was planetside.  After spending his entire life on Lothal, the months the Ghost had spent with Phoenix Squadron in deep space had been a shock to him.  It had been at least a little preparation for all those years on the Chimaera.

This wasn’t Lothal, but he was still attuned to the Living Force and he could still feel the thread of wrongness that ran through it here.  As far as they knew, this planet didn’t have a name, just the designation it had been given when they entered the star system; if it had an indigenous sentient species, they hadn’t run into them yet.  Ezra had no way of knowing what the planet should have felt like in the Force, but he could tell that there was something badly wrong here and getting worse by the day.

A few minutes later, he pulled himself up over the top of the cliff with a grunt and crouched there, breathing hard, then took out his water flask and drank sparingly.  The Chimaera’s scientists were monitoring the water in the stream that ran past Chimaera Camp and had found that its chemical content was changing by the day; Ezra had water purification tablets with him, but there was always the chance that whatever was leaching into the water table was wouldn’t be affected by the Imperial-issue tablets.

He put the flask back onto his pack and took the sniper rifle off his back, using the scope the same way he would have done a pair of macrobinoculars.  The scope was the reason he hadn’t brought a pair of macrobinoculars; if he had to he could remove it from the rifle to use on its own, and he might need the weapon.  While he had never been formally trained as a sniper the way that some of the stormtroopers and death troopers aboard the Chimaera had been, given the time needed to set up a sniper’s shot he could use the Force for nearly the same level of accuracy.  If not, well, a sniper rifle was still a rifle – this one was reconfigurable, so Ezra could always break it down into an assault rifle or a heavy blaster pistol.  While most death troopers used the BlasTech E11-D and DLT-19D that were standard issue, they often had the liberty to carry other weapons if desired, which was how Ezra had gotten his hands on the A280-CFE that was commonly used in the Rebel Alliance.  

The view from the scope showed him only the seemingly impenetrable tree cover of the jungle he had come through.  Ezra knew that there were a number of clearings in it, some large enough for a light cruiser like the Scylla or the Charybdis to put down in – and in fact the Seventh Fleet’s remaining cruisers were parked in two such – but even with the scope they were impossible to see.  It had a range of five kilometers on a clear day, which this wasn’t; a heavy blanket of fog mixed with the tall native trees of the planet, turning the view beneath him into a grayish-green sea.  With a sigh, he straightened up again.  He kept the rifle in the curve of his arm rather than returning it to his back, wanting to have it quickly to hand if he needed it; the few seconds it would take to swing it around could cost him his life.

The jungle began again a few meters from the edge of the cliff.  Ezra eyed it dubiously; having spent his entire life to the age of fifteen in grasslands he still found forests both disconcerting and distasteful. When he stretched out with the Force, though, he could feel the life within it – confused by the changes being wrought upon the planet, but still present.  The wildlife, he knew, would be his first hint of real trouble.

Right now it told him that there was nothing to be concerned with except for the planet’s native dangers. Still, Ezra hesitated, looking at the edge of the jungle and fighting down his nerves.  Annoyed by his own reluctance, he sank down into a tailor’s seat, resting the rifle across his knees.  He fell quickly and easily into a light meditative trance; he had years of practice, after all.  He didn’t let his attention roll out the way he had done when he had meditated the previous night at Chimaera Camp, but turned it inwards instead.  He just wanted a few minutes to clear his head.

He was, he realized, afraid.

The fight on the Chimaera had been one thing, as had the handful of other skirmishes he had been involved in over the years, but this was the first time in more than six years that Ezra had been completely on his own, whether on an alien worlds or back on the Chimaera.  If he had died then, at least Grand Admiral Thrawn and the other Imperials would have known, assuming the whole Chimaera hadn’t been destroyed at the same time.  There was no real difference in being out here than there was being back with the Imperials, who had more reason to want him dead than anything else on this world and had come close a few times; Thrawn had twice had his own men shot over two such incidents.  Ezra had scars from the attempt that had come closest to succeeding.  On this world only Captain Pellaeon and a handful of other acquaintances – not quite friends – amongst the Chimaera’s complement really cared if he lived or died.  Some days Ezra wasn’t entirely sure that he himself did.

Kanan had lived like this for years, Ezra reminded himself, and often in worse situations than this one after his entire world had died.  So had Zeb.  Ezra could do no less than either of them, and refused to fail them.

It hadn’t been left to him to make any decisions one way or another for a long time now – not the kind of decisions that actually mattered.  He had been volunteered for this particular mission rather than volunteered himself, but hadn’t bothered to argue it even though others had.  It was something to do, at least.

Years ago he had asked Captain Rex about the Clone Wars, which Kanan only ever talked about when forced or when he had been drinking, which wasn’t very often.  The old clone had gone quiet, thinking about the question, and then said slowly, “When you go into battle – whether it’s a major push like Geonosis or a five man black ops mission – you go in understanding you’re already dead.  You can’t be afraid of dying.  You accept it – you take it inside of you.”

Rex hadn’t said whether or not he had learned that from the Jedi he had served with, but Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.  He let that knowledge fill him now, the reminder that in the Force he was both living and dead at once, and even if he was still drawing breath now, it was a state that could change at any point.  There was no point in being afraid of the unknown: what would happen would happen as the Force willed it. ��All he could do was the best that he knew how.

He opened his eyes and got to his feet, tucking the rifle against his shoulder as he went into the jungle.

It was slow going. The undergrowth seemed to be thicker up here than it was in the lowlands around Chimaera Camp.  The tree cover was so thick that it blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving Ezra to pick his way through the jungle in greenish gloom, trying not to trip over creepers on the forest floor, which had leaf litter so thick that in places he sank into it up to his ankles, or hang himself on the vines that passed from tree to tree.  Many of the tree trunks were so wide around that it would have taken a dozen men holding hands to encircle them.  Nor was it silent.  Animals – he saw avians and snakes, along with some kind of small red-scaled reptile and the quick flash of a furry mammalian tail vanishing up a tree – called out constantly.  They weren’t much bothered by his passage, as animals usually weren’t, though more than once he heard them go quiet in response to some native predator passing through.  He sensed disquiet among them even as they went about their normal routines; they were as aware of the changes happening on the planet’s surface as he was.  More so; this was their home.

Mid-afternoon brought the downpour that Ezra had learned to expect after the past three days onworld. Rather than press on, he spent the time crouched on the upturned root of one massive tree, sheltering as best he could beneath leaves the size of his cell door back on the Chimaera.  The rain seemed to come down in sheets, like a solid wall of water despite the fact that by the time it reached him it should have been disrupted by the tree canopy. Ezra managed not to get drenched this time – the first day he had gone out to stand in it, to the horror and disgust of the sailors assigned to guard him.  Most members of the Imperial Navy hated and distrusted uncontrolled weather at best and planets entirely at worst.  This time getting soaked would be a hindrance – and besides, it wouldn’t particularly aid his already slow passage.  Ezra watched the rain fall from the dubious shelter of the tree and let his mind drift out in something that wasn’t quite a meditative trance – while most of the native wildlife had gone to shelter at the same time he had, it wasn’t a guarantee that the enemy would do so as well.

When the rain had passed and the sun had reappeared, Ezra recommenced his slow trek through the jungle. He hadn’t stayed completely dry in the downpour, but the scout trooper’s undersuit he wore was more or less waterproof; it still left him feeling uncomfortably like he had gone through a sanisteam in his clothes.  He paused twice to eat, the tasteless emergency rations that stormtroopers carried as a matter of course, and once to refill his water flask at a stream after he had tested the water with the Force and decided he didn’t need to use one of the water purification tablets.  By the time that dusk fell, casting the jungle into even further gloom, Ezra had, he guessed, advanced within a kilometer or two of his goal.

The advent of darkness slowed his progress even further.  He took out the night vision goggles he had gotten from the Chimaera’s death trooper captain – promoted from the ranks two years ago after the remaining death trooper officers had died – and put them on, blinking as the shadows of the jungle resolved into only moderately more penetrable shades of green.  While he had a glowrod, using it would be just as good as sending up a beacon, not something he wanted.  He could have passed through the jungle without needing to see at all, except that would leave him vulnerable to something he wouldn’t have thought possible six years earlier.

By the time he sensed the final setting of the sun sometime later, the jungle had been the next thing to pitch-black for more than an hour.  Ezra was silently arguing himself out of trying to find somewhere to sleep for a few hours when he felt the nearby animal life go silent, then recommence its noisy outcry.  The negation and recommencement of sound shifted in his awareness of the Living Force, and he swore wearily to himself.

Something was coming towards him.

He settled the rifle more closely against his shoulder and touched a finger to the night vision goggles, making certain that they were as firmly affixed to his face as possible. He had learned the hard way that what was coming left no trace in the Force – not of itself, at least.

Ezra could have gone up a tree, but he was city born and bred and could count on one hand the number of times in his life he had actually tried to climb a tree.  Even in this unfamiliar environment he felt far more comfortable on the ground that he would have perched on a branch – he was sure he could get up to one, but not positive that he could stay there, a hesitation he would never have had on a cliff edge or a high-rise.  He was absolutely certain that trying to fight on one would end with him flat on his back on the ground, and that was a best case scenario.

Instead he settled himself in the soldier’s stance he had learned from Rex, letting the rifle rest loosely against his shoulder as he let his awareness spread out.  Animals, frightened by the alien sight and scent of the intruders, fled their approach; plants flinched away from the heavy tread of feet.  Ezra felt them come closer and closer – a near-silent passage to anyone but a Jedi. The air felt close and heavy around him, the night sounds of the wildlife vanished into stillness or flight. Ezra let his mind fill with the blazing clarity of the Force, until in every way that mattered Ezra was the Force itself.  The Jedi were the sword hand of the Force, Kanan had said more than once; with or without a lightsaber Ezra was still a Jedi.

He fired even before he saw the flicker of movement in his night vision goggles.

The crack of the blaster shot broke the stillness of the night air, sparks flaring at the laser bolt struck armor it couldn’t penetrate. Ezra threw himself sideways, feeling the rush of air as the thrown thudbug just missed his previous position. He rolled and came up on one knee as he fired again, twice in quick unison, relying on instinct rather than the little his vision showed him.  He got one more shot off and then had to reverse his grip on the rifle, slamming it upwards two-handed to block the amphistaff blow aimed at his head.  Quick as the serpent it resembled, the amphistaff lost its staff form and lashed out, its jaws gaping wide.  Hissing, it spat poison at his eyes.

The night vision goggles cracked as the poison struck.  His vision blurring – knowing he had only seconds before they broke entirely or the poison dripped down onto his skin – Ezra thrust out with the Force.  The amphistaff’s bearer didn’t release the living weapon, but his arm and the amphistaff both swung wide, away from Ezra as he threw himself into a backflip, ripping the night vision goggles off as he did and letting them fall.

Darkness closed over him.

He pulled the rifle back to his shoulder and fired again; once more, sparks briefly illuminated his enemy as his shot struck uselessly off armor.  Then the warrior was on him; Ezra swung the rifle like a club, feeling it connect with his enemy’s skull.  Undaunted, the warrior lashed the amphistaff like a whip; the serpent slashed down across the barrel of the rifle, cutting the weapon  in two.

Ezra didn’t hesitate, just flung the remaining half of the rifle at his opponent even as he flung himself sideways again, avoiding the amphistaff’s attempt to get its teeth into his throat.  He twisted and came up with his blaster pistol, firing as fast as he could pull the trigger – a steady stream of blaster bolts, nearly all of which sparked uselessly off vonduun crab armor.  Only one penetrated between the joints of the armor, making his opponent grunt in pain.  His ears ringing from the blasterfire, Ezra thought he heard it echo oddly in the jungle, but he was already moving, grabbing one of his vibroknives with his left hand and slashing backhanded in the same motion.  With the Force behind it, the vibroknife cut through the amphistaff in the vulnerable place just below the head.  Halfway through the blade stopped, jammed against the creature’s seemingly indestructible internal structure.  It thrashed in the warrior’s hand.

It couldn’t cry out, but he could.  Ezra could neither understand the words nor sense the emotions that underlay them, but he released the vibroknife and got both hands on the grip of his blaster again, firing at the place he thought he had seen a vulnerable point between helmet and breast plate.

The blaster jammed.

Oh, karabast, Ezra thought – he didn’t have time to voice the words before his opponent’s free hand shot out and closed around his throat. He was lifted off the ground, armored fingers like durasteel cutting off his breath.  The blaster fell to the ground as he clawed at that implacable arm, fingers scrabbling over the plates of living armor that covered his opponent’s forearm.  He felt it twitch beneath his fingers, lending its strength to the enemy.

His opponent snarled something in his native language, his fingers tightening.  Ezra reached for the Force as his vision started to gray out, knowing that if he wasn’t dead yet then it was because the enemy intended to take him alive.  After enough suffering to make up for the death of his amphistaff.

Light flicked out like a whip, coiling around the warrior’s body.

Ezra had just enough time to feel astonishment before the brief flash of a jetpack’s repulsors heralded the being who slammed feet-first into the warrior, knocking him sideways. He dropped Ezra, turning to grapple with this new adversary as the glowing line of energized whipcord vanished. Ezra hit the ground, gasping for air but already reaching for another of his sheathed vibroblades.

Even now his enemy was absent from the Force, but the new arrival wasn’t.  Ezra didn’t bother to think, just drew his vibroknife, thumbed the switch on, and waited – with his amphistaff dead, or at least out of commission, the warrior was left with only whatever razorbugs or thudbugs he was carrying and his dagger-like coufee.  He heard the living weapon scrape against – or possibly through – what could only be beskar, and a grunt of surprise.  The brief burst of a short-distance repulsor sent the warrior stumbling back a step and Ezra struck in his moment of confusion, slamming his vibroknife up beneath the skirt plates of his armor to the vulnerable place on the inside of his thigh where most humanoids had a major vein.  He felt the weapon dig in and dragged it down as far as he could before the warrior cuffed him aside, sending Ezra flying to strike a tree.

He hit hard enough to black out for an instant, but was dragging himself upright as soon as he could, reaching for his fallen blaster through the Force.  The grip smacked into his palm hard enough to hopefully displace the jam and he raised it, aiming at the spot he thought the enemy was.

There was a blaster shot, not his, and in its flash he saw the warrior on his back in the undergrowth. It also illuminated the injured amphistaff making its way like a sidewinder through the leaf cover, with Ezra’s vibroknife still stuck into its neck.

Even as the flash faded Ezra fired.  His own shot wasn’t aimed at the creature, but at the hilt of the vibroknife, slamming the weapon those last few precious centimeters forward to sever head from body. Ezra heard it thrash briefly, dying, and then there was silence.

He would have liked nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week, but he braced himself against the tree with his free hand and kept the blaster in his other hand.  His head was pounding; he knew he’d have bruises the next time he looked, to go with the bruises he still had from the Chimaera’s final battle and crash.

“Who –”  He coughed as his abraded throat protested. “Who’s that?”

Light sprang into being, the thin artificial life of a glowrod illuminating the Mandalorian woman standing by the warrior’s corpse.  After four years living with one, Ezra was hardly going to forget that particular silhouette.  His gaze traversed the slopes of painted beskar armor, noting the fresh scars on it from the coufee blade before settling on the helmet before the woman reached up to remove it.

“Ezra?”

He stared.  Then he tried to take a step backwards and couldn’t, his shoulders already braced against the tree trunk.  His mind didn’t seem to want to come to terms with what was in front of him, even as he lowered the hand with the blaster in it.  He slumped back against the tree, letting it take more of his weight.

“Hey!”  She crossed the space between them with a few quick steps and grabbed his shoulder, her grip solidly human and real. “Don’t you dare pass out on me now!”

Ezra reached up and closed his free hand around her forearm, staring into her face. “I’m not going to pass out,” he said. “They usually patrol in threes –”

“Yeah, we met the other two. They’re dead.  You want to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” Ezra said, or tried to say, but was already folding up.  He sat heavily, belatedly holstering the pistol he was still holding. “You changed your hair,” he said inanely.

“Yeah, I do that,” Sabine Wren said. “So did you.”

Ezra touched a hand self-consciously to what remained of his hair – long on top and pulled into a tail wrapped with strips of thin leather, close cut at the sides, because he had spent the past six years with sailors and stormtroopers who thought a buzzcut was the height of fashion.  He stopped with his fingers hooked through a strip of leather, stared at Sabine, and felt himself start to shake. “You’re real,” he croaked, even though the Force had already told him the answer. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah,” she said, her hand still on his shoulder. “I’m really here.  We’re all really here.”

When he looked up again, he felt as much as saw them ghosting out of the shadows at the edge of the glowrod’s illumination like the spectres they had been named for.  Ezra was too tired and overwhelmed for further disbelief; he pushed himself to his feet with Sabine’s help and stumbled into Kanan’s arms.

“I felt –” he said shakily, his voice muffled by the fact that he had buried his face in the other man’s shoulder.  He fisted his hands hard against Kanan’s back, aware of how gloriously alive he felt. “– in the Force, I felt something change, six months ago.  I felt you come back.”

“It’s me,” Kanan said, his voice gentle. “Yeah, Ezra, it’s me.”

Hera put a hand on his shoulder, smiling, and Ezra turned into her embrace, then Zeb’s.  He was shaking so badly that Zeb had to help him to a seat on an upraised tree root, one hand folded over his shoulder as though he couldn’t bear to let Ezra out of his grasp.  He wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t hallucinating – that he hadn’t been taken captive after all and this was some new torture.  Then he looked at Kanan’s calm white eyes and touched the Force again, gingerly, like prodding a sore tooth, and knew it wasn’t a trick.

“You’re going to explain that,” he said, a little wildly. “You were – I thought – I saw – I felt –”

“Yeah,” Kanan said again. “It’s a long story.”

Meaning not now.  Ezra took a shaky breath and leaned back into Zeb’s reassuring grip, watching Sabine crouch to inspect the fallen warrior.  She touched the scratches on her breast plate gingerly, then her eyes widened as a hand-size piece of beskar broke off in her hand – the coufee had cut nearly through it and the slight pressure of her touch had freed it. “What are these things?” she demanded.

Ezra sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Long story.”

“We saw the Chimaera,” Hera said, sitting down on his other side. She kept her blaster in her hand, resting across her knee, which under the circumstances Ezra thought was the wisest thing she could have done. “We were on our way to the rendezvous coordinates when Kanan sensed you, but we had to find somewhere safe to put down. Chopper’s with the Ghost about two kilometers away.”

Ezra rubbed his hand across his face.  “They’re from beyond the Unknown Regions – beyond our galaxy, maybe – and they’ve been making a push towards the Empire since it was still the Republic,” he said. “They’ve been tracking the Chimaera and the rest of the Seventh for months – years – and finally cornered her here. They’re warriors – shapers, they call themselves; everything they use is organic, alive – their armor, their weapons, their ships.”  He nodded at the warrior’s corpse and the dead amphistaff beside him.  “They’re called the Yuuzhan Vong.”

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 9

Read on Ao3

Adrien blinked as Marinette’s bright pink bag thumped down on his desk, right on top of the tablet he’d been about to slide into his own bag.

“Lunch. You. Me. Talk.”

The colour was high in her cheeks and her eyes were bright. If he didn’t know better he’d guess she was embarrassed, but there was a slightly frantic air to her that told him there was nothing romantic in her invitation. If it could even be called that.

“Here?” Adrien glanced around at their class maters, some of which were eyeing them as they talked. He’d never been happier with the secrets between them gone, but privacy was harder to come by than ever.

“I have it on good authority we’ll be left alone,” Marinette said as she hefted her bag back onto her shoulder.

As if on cue, Chloe and Alya herded their friends through the door. Adrien caught whispers of ‘the meeting of the minds’ and ‘debriefing’.

“What exactly goes on at those sleep overs?” Adrien asked as he watched them go. Too late, he realized that in any other context, he’d be in trouble.

But Marinette only laughed, a carefree sound he realized he only just realized he missed. 

“Team building exercises,” she said as he stood and joined her. She paused for a moment and then continued, “We had a vote on whether or not Chloe would stay.”

Adrien’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought that had already been decided.”

Marinette shrugged and fiddled with her purse. “It had been, but…one thing led to another, and it can’t just be our choice. We have to be able to rely on each other. We all have to choose her.”

As ugly as the truth was, Marinette was right. They couldn’t make anyone trust her, and they couldn’t beat Hawk Moth if there was any doubt.

“I guess it went in her favour,” he said as he watched them disappear into the cafeteria. Just before going through the doors, Chloe paused and threw him a smile over her shoulder, one with genuine warmth and love, and just a little bit of cunning. Happiness looked good on her.

 “Mostly,” Marinette said as she lead him not to the cafeteria, but down to the school doors. “Mylene, Kagami, and Alix all voted no.”

“Kagami and Alix don’t surprised me,” Adrien said as he mulled it over. “Those two aren’t the type to forgive easily. But Mylene…”

“Forgiveness isn’t the issue,” Marinette explained. “It’s the trust thing.”

“Ah,” Adrien said, nodding. “I get it.” They all knew what Chloe had done for Marinette, but that didn’t mean they could necessarily appreciate the cost of it - and if they did, it didn’t magically cancel out the rest. Trust was hard. It couldn’t always be rebuilt. But better to be aware of that weakness in their team than to lose because of it.  “So that’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Marinette took a steadying breath and shook her head as they entered the park near her flat. It was nearly empty in the middle of a work day. A few people walked dogs, some read the newspaper, but no one was close enough to overhear them. Marinette slipped a hand inside her purse and he thought she might pull something else, but she didn’t, and after a moment, her shoulder slightly relaxed. He abruptly realized the purse must be where Tikki hid, and that Marinette was seeking reassurance from her kwami. Reassurance about him. 

“Have I…done something wrong?” Adrien asked, trying to squash the thousands of worst-case-scenarios that were suddenly tripping over themselves in his head to be acknowledged. 

“No!” Marinette grabbed his hand with her free one, squeezing his fingers to emphasize her words. “You haven’t done anything wrong. There’s something I have to tell you. Something that happened a long time ago. Something that never happened.”

Adrien frowned, confused, but didn’t interrupt, unable to help himself as he laced their fingers together. He knew what Marinette looked like when she was trying to find the right words; it was a variation of her lucky charm pout. So he focused on that, on the endearingly familiar curve of her lips, the little ‘v’ that appeared between her brows, the warmth of her hand in his, anything but the foreboding weight pressing down on him. They’d faced worse. They’d face this, too. 

“You were akumatized.”

Adrien couldn’t help it - he laughed. “I’m not trying to be rude, it’s just…I think I’d remember if that happened.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Marinette said. She hadn’t so much as cracked a smile. “Bunnix helped me make it not happen.”

And just like that, there was nothing funny about it anymore.

Adrien’s emotions rushed, but he smothered them, just as he always did. Yelling, making demands, fear, none of it would help Marinette figure out how to tell him what she was trying to say. So he simply said, “Tell me all of it.”

And she did. 

Ladybug in his room, he remembered. The fifth’s name day gift, too, the beret with the embroidered hearts that was sitting in the back of his closet, untouched. But other than that, the day remained insignificant to him.

But not to her.

“Chat…Blanc,” Adrien murmured when she’d finished. Marinette tried to hide a wince and failed, as though hearing him say the name himself was somehow worse than the story she’d told. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stared at her purse. “I should have told you a long time ago, but I just thought - ”

“It didn’t happen,” Adrien said. “So there was nothing to tell.”

“And then everything happened with the miracle box, and there was no point. I wasn’t Ladybug anymore.” Marinette’s fingers had gone cold in Adrien’s hand a long time ago as they’d walked rings around the park, but he felt them stir now, as though she might pull back.

And as upset as he was, Adrien wasn’t ready to let her go just yet, so he tightened his grip, just enough to ask her to stay.

“I thought I’d adverted the future,” she said. “Chat Blanc said it was our love that destroyed the world, but it didn’t matter, because I was in love with someone else, anyway, more than I was in love with my partner. And then…it turns out they were the same person the whole time.”

She said it so nonchalantly he almost missed it, as though part of him had always known Marinette felt that way, because a part of him had always felt the same. Or maybe he’d just grown used to it in the past few months. He didn’t know anymore. All he knew was that he was in love with the girl in front of him, the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, the girl who was still learning how to ask for help and rely on others.

And that she was apparently in love with him, too. 

“So that’s…why…” Adrien stopped, and Marinette stopped with him, blushing furiously as he worked through every moment through new eyes.

“And it still doesn’t matter, because I know that’s not how you feel about me,” she rushed on. “I know Ladybug wasn’t who you thought she was, and…”

Adrien’s heart was breaking. How could this wonderful, amazing girl, who he loved so much, who was so smart, say these things? He had to get her to stop talking. He had to convince her she was wrong. He had to let her know he loved her, too. 

So he cupped her cheek, tilted her face up to his, and captured her lips in a kiss that lit every nerve in his body on fire.

And despite the horror story she’d just told, despite the disaster it might cause, after only a moments hesitation, Marinette had wrapped her arms around his waist and was kissing him back.

“I love you, Marinette,” Adrien breathed when they finally broke apart. She hadn’t let go of him, so he rested his forehead against hers, just happy to be close. “I’m <em>in</em> love with you. I have been for a long time. I might love Ladybug, but only because she’s a part of you, the part I got to know first.”

“I’m sorry I kept so much from you,” Marinette said as he pushed her bangs back and pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead. “I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“It seems pretty obvious now why you felt you couldn’t,” Adrien murmured against her skin. “Pretty heavy stuff. I just wish you’d let me help you before now.”

“But this is exactly why I couldn’t,” Marinette sighed as he pressed another kiss to her temple. “I knew this would happen. And I knew, when the time finally came…that I’d let it.”

Adrien paused as her words sank in, taking in the truth of them.

“You’re still afraid of it,” he said. “Of…me.”

“Not you,” Marinette said fiercely. “Of Hawk Moth. It’s always been him. It’ll never be safe for any of us until we beat him.”

She was waiting for him to protest, he realized. To insist that the future was already different, and that they were strong enough to thwart any future in which he was akumatized. But not only were they the untrue protests of a man desperate in love, but Marinette was afraid of that future coming to pass regardless - and she was tired of trying to prevent it. He could tell in the way she leaned on him then, the way she allowed him to hold her, the way she kissed him back. He knew if he pushed her, she’d let him convince her, because the beautiful truth was, she wanted this as much as he did. 

And it didn’t matter one bit, because Adrien had made the same choice, time and time again, and he wasn’t about to make a different one now.

“I understand,” he said, stepping back out of the circle of her arms. 

Marinette blinked, confused, one arm still extended toward him as though he’d taken part of her with him. “I…what - ”

“I love you, Marinette,” Adrien said again. “More than anyone or anything. More than being Chat Noir. I’ll be your friend, and your partner, but nothing else. Not until you’re sure. Not until you’re not afraid anymore.”

For a moment he thought she might protest, and he had a moment of panic; he was no where near as strong as her. He’d crumble at the first ‘please’.

But she didn’t, and as their phones went off, alerting them to an akuma attack, Marinette simply gave his hand one more squeeze and said, “Thank you, Adrien.”

And then she let go. 

[something-tofightfor]

Ransom - one

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader (Ink AU)

Word Count: 7462

Rating: NSFW (Talk of kidnapping, actual kidnapping, language, sex, scheming)

Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping

Author’s Note: This is a direct result of a conversation that I had two weeks ago with @the-blind-assassin-12​. This one got away from me a little but I think you’ll still enjoy it. It’s gonna get kind of dark, but when we get there, you’ll understand why.

Summary: You and Logan head to Westworld to test out a new narrative before it launches to the public - one where Logan gets to play the hero... but will everything go as planned?

“So it’s a… a kidnapping narrative?” He was bent over the tablet on the tabletop, his  eyes moving over the images as fast as he could scroll through them with one long finger. “The Hosts actually abduct the Guests?” 

“Yep.” You were perched next to him on the edge of the table, your bare legs crossed at the knee. “It’s different from the other types of narratives we offer, because with this one, there are actual stakes, Logan.” He glanced up and you smiled at him, shrugging your shoulders. “Still can’t get hurt, not really aside from being scared, or with some bumps and bruises and scrapes, but according to the people here, the ones that designed it? It’s a lot more intense, so not all Guests can participate, you have to be cleared to do it during the intake interview and then they flag you somehow.” He reached over with the hand that wasn’t on the tablet, fingers moving up your leg slowly as he stroked the skin there, his attention torn between what he was looking at and you, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Lucky for me, Logan, I get to…”

 “They’re gonna grab you, tie you up and throw you onto the back of a horse?” He looked up again, his eyes darkening as you nodded. “Gun to your head, or knife to your…” 

 “Mmmmhmm.” You bit down on your lip and put one of your hands on top of his, staring at him. “It’s meant to be a big thing, when they take someone. The narrative builders worked really hard to make it so that even though we’re aware of what the stakes really are and that we can’t lose, we stay immersed in it, no matter how long it takes to be rescued or for us to get away.” And they’re usually pretty good with that, so… “So that’s the narrative I’m going to test, gotta make sure that -”

 “Who’s gonna rescue you?” He was smirking, tongue moving over his lower lip to wet it. “Another new Host? Some random -”

 “Well I’d hoped it would be you, Logan.” You reached out to run your fingers through his hair, shaking your head. “I know you’ve been working hard lately, and you’re looking forward to this trip. What could be better than saving the damsel in distress from the -”

 “You’re the furthest thing there is from a damsel,” Logan replied as he pushed up from the chair he was sitting in, his hand pulling away from your leg and moving to your side, the other one flattening on the table on the other side of your body. “But I can’t wait to shoot those things and see how grateful you are to me for it.” You laughed, leaning and and kissing him slowly, your legs uncrossing so that he could step closer. “How am I supposed to find you?” His breath hot on your cheek, Logan kissed his way toward your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and pulling back. “And how long am I supposed to wait?” 

 You raised both hands, your fingers skating over the bare skin of his arms and settling over the thin, inked lines on the inside of one of them. “I donno, Logan, it depends on…” He bit down and you hissed, head tilting to the side and Logan’s mouth dropped again, moving over your jaw and then to your neck. He doesn’t wanna talk about this now, he… “You know how this goes, Logan.” You sighed, humming quietly and stroking his arm again, the fingers of your other hand curling around the roots of his hair and tugging. “Delos.” He pulled away slightly at your use of his last name, looking up at you through long lashes. “We’re gonna be sleeping on God only knows what for the next couple days, and as much as I’d like to let you have your way with me on this table... “ He grinned, straightening up and before you knew it, Logan had scooped you into his arms and was carrying you toward the large bed against the far wall of the room you were sharing. A lot had changed between the two of you since he’d opened up to you for the first time in the Mesa suite, but as he tossed you onto the bed, lowering his body onto yours, pressing you down against the mattress, you realized that one thing was still the same. He still makes the most of these beds every time we’re here. 

 --- 

 You woke up the next morning, eager to head down and catch the train with him, but when you opened your eyes, Logan was already out of bed, the light in the bathroom on. Why would he need to… Logan never worried about his appearance on the mornings he caught the train into the park with you, since he’d just be changing into his well loved park attire, but you could hear him in the small room, opening drawers and unzipping his travel case. “Logan?” Climbing out of bed, you stepped carefully into the bathroom, blinking at the brightness. “Why are you -”

 “I can’t ride in with you this morning.” He was dressed in a white shirt, the sleeves undone and rolled up to his elbows, the tails tucked into dress pants. “They just… I have a meeting before…” He curled his lip and you felt your shoulders slump. “I got the email overnight, and just checked it when I woke up, some fucking client is here and wants to meet with me, refuses to talk to anyone else.” Oh. “So I have to do that, and then report back to Juliet, and it’s a thirteen hour difference, so I have to wait.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to take a train in until at least the one at noon, which means that you’ll be a full day ahead of me, and…”

 “Logan.” You reached out to him with both hands, stepping between him and the countertop. “It’s fine. Once I get there, I just have to ride up north toward Python Pass, past the mines. There’s a town there now, and that’s where this all is.” You smiled at him, even though you were disappointed. “There’s more for me to look at and assess before I start with the actual narrative, so I can wait for you, Logan, I -” You shook your head, pushing strands of his damp hair into place as his hands settled on your shoulders, his eyes drawn to the patterns on your skin beneath them. “I’ll need someone to rescue me, anway, so I can’t…”

 “William’s going in with you.” You caught the change in his tone of voice and sucked in a breath. 

 “William? Why? If he’s here, why can’t he -” Logan laughed, looking up and shrugging his shoulders. 

 “No idea. But Juliet said this client was very specific, and they didn’t want to see William, they wanted a Delos, and since I’m here…” You understood; Logan was a hot commodity, and since he was much more stable than he had been in the past, had made a ton of progress and implemented new processes within Delos, people were taking notice. And they should. You were proud of him, but you would have been lying if you said you hadn’t felt a wave of disappointment at learning he wouldn’t be riding in with you. “He’s just going with you, since there has to be someone from the board on the first trip…” Logan shook his head. “It should be me, but I’ll…” He pushed the strap of your tank top down, lowering his head to kiss the curve of you shoulder, right over the lines he’d permanently put on your body. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I know you will, Logan. 

 --- 

 He was seething with anger, staring out the window as the plateaus and desert flew by. That could have been a fucking email, or a phone call or… Logan understood that people wanted to see the face to go along with the name, that they wanted to feel like their investement and involvement with the company weren’t for nothing, but it was frustrating when the people he met with simply wanted to talk - and not about anything new. We could have had the whole day together. Logan shook his head, wondering what you were doing, if you’d reached the new town yet, if you had started your review of the narrative. Wonder what she’s wearing this trip.

 Even though the train ride was short, meaning that he’d get into Sweetwater just as the sun set, and could get on a horse and set out almost immediately, Logan wasn’t happy. The way he felt about you wasn’t new, but it was still unexpected, and each time the two of you went to Westworld or any of the other parks together, the connection between you had strengthened, even more than it did at home in Los Angeles. You’d been a surprise to him from the beginning, and after the night you’d taken him to get his first tattoo - had let him tattoo you - Logan had stopped questioning the way he felt about you, deciding to let things happen as they would. 

 That had been six months ago, and you’d provided Logan with something else to focus on, a distraction from work and from the thing that had nearly consumed his life: finding a way to oust William from Delos, and remove him from Juliet’s life. He was close - he’d found a way to prove that William was manipulating the system, collecting financial data on Guests without the knowledge of anyone at Delos, and even though that wasn’t what Logan truly wanted to remove him for, he knew that taking that angle with the Board was more likely to produce results than trying to find a way to prove that William had simply left him for dead in the middle of the desert. Either way, as long as I can get him out, I’ll… Personal vendetta aside, Logan’s free time was spent gathering and figuring out the best way to present the information while doing everything possible to keep things civil with William so that when he made his move, there was no opportunity for the other man to prepare. 

 But sending you off into the park with William had made Logan uneasy, and without telling you too much - you knew only the basics of what had happened and it had to stay that way until he could be sure he’d be able to use the information he’d gathered - Logan knew he wouldn’t feel better until he had eyes on you again. And then she’s going to get kidnapped, and...but that’s part of the game. He felt himself smiling, watching as the sun set behind the mountains, the chatter of the few other late day arrival passengers barely registering to him. As he stepped off the train and onto the wooden platform, Logan grinned, eyes passing over the scenery and the people milling around. Good to be back. 

 He wasted no time in going to the stables and picking a horse before asking for a map to Lost Spring. Within an hour of his arrival in Sweetwater, Logan had left the town behind him, riding north beneath the rising stars. The stablemaster had told him that he’d reach the town in the middle of the night, and even though Logan enjoyed the open air and the silence, he found himself urging the horse onward, dipping one hand into his pocket to pull out his watch more frequently as the miles passed. Just before midnight, Logan saw flickering lights on the horizon, and knowing that it meant his destination was close, he dug his heels into the horse’s sides, closing the distance more quickly. 

 It’s impressive. He sucked in a breath as the town took shape around him, larger than Sweetwater but smaller and less striking than Pariah, even though there was a lively feeling to it, too. After leaving the horse in the stable, he wandered back toward the saloon, where he’d seen a sign advertising rooms for rent. Logan looked over everything, watching as the Hosts moved through the street and between buildings, a few of them trying to talk to him, asking if he needed anything, but he was focused on the saloon, on the sounds of laughter and music that he heard from within. I’ll look for her, grab a drink and ask around, find out… But Logan didn’t have far to look, because as soon as he pushed through the swinging doors and into the bar, he saw you sitting on one of the stools, hair loose around your bare shoulders. Sleeveless. She’s gonna kill me. 

 Steps quickening, Logan cut through the tables where people were sitting and playing cards, striding to the bar and not even hesitating as he slipped his arms around your waist, letting his lips fall on the skin behind your ear. “Hey, darlin’.” You yelped but immediately relaxed backwards, turning your head and meeting his lips with yours. I don’t know why but I’m relieved. You shifted on the stool, turning your body toward him, and Logan groaned as you teased his lips with your tongue, the faint taste of whiskey and something citrus registering in his mind. It’s only been 14 hours, and I... When you pulled back from the kiss and looked up at Logan, he spoke again, letting out a heavy breath. “What was that for?” 

 “Happy to see you, Delos.” You shrugged, gesturing toward the empty stool next to you, Logan taking it and sitting. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight, thought I’d have to look for you -”

 “Yeah, I made sure that I got on the train this afternoon, I didn’t wanna spend the night alone in our room.” He held up a finger to the bartender, pointing at the whiskey bottle and nodding, and the man quickly poured him a shot. Once Logan had swallowed it down and requested an actual drink, he turned to you again, leaning an elbow on the bar. “This place is really different.”

 “It is.” You picked your glass up, taking a long drink and shaking your head. “I learned a lot today, got to talk to a lot of the Hosts, and…” You closed your eyes. “The people that live here.” Logan rolled his eyes, knowing that you were correcting yourself out of habit, much like Disney employees did. Gotta keep the magic alive. Logan never thought of them as people, but understood why you did, especially when you were around other Guests. “So I guess the story is,” you said, leaning in closer to him. “There’s a gang in the hills to the north, run by a guy that goes by the name of McCray, but everyone calls him ‘Ghost’, because no one knows if they’ve ever seen him.” He saw the excitement on your face, heard it in your voice. “People keep getting grabbed by his men, dragged out of town, and the Sheriff has had to rescue like six people in the last month, because they just keep getting taken.” That’s a terrifying backstory … “But the thing is that when the Sheriff and whoever he’s taken with him find these people?” You shook your head, closing your eyes. “They don’t wanna come back, they wanna stay on with the gang.” Shit. Logan’s eyes widened, his head tilted to the side. “Yeah, the Sheriff told me that  since I’m alone here in town, I need to watch out for three men on gray horses, because…”

 “Alone?” You nodded, mouth hanging open slightly as he cut you off. “Where’s William, he was -”

 “Oh, he left almost as soon as we got here.” You waved your hand, taking another long drink and finishing what was in your glass. “We rode up from Sweetwater together, but we barely checked into the rooms before he was making some bullshit excuse and telling me he’d be back in the morning.” The fuck? “I didn’t question it, because I really don’t give a shit where he went, but…” You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in hours.” You straightened up, smiling brightly at him, and Logan grinned back, reaching out to take your hand in his, linking your fingers together. “Plus, it doesn’t matter, you’re here now, so I don’t need him.” He tilted his head to the side, staring at you, and even though he was dead tired and sore from being on the horse for so long, Logan knew that neither of you would be sleepng for a long time. 

 “You think there’s any rooms left?” He watched you pause, eyes going wide. “I need somewhere to sleep.” You stayed quiet for a second before reaching out and undoing one of the buttons on his shirt, fingertips brushing against the skin beneath it. 

 “I’ve got a bed you can climb into tonight, cowboy.” You leaned in, glancing around as if you were making sure no one was listening. “I don’t think you’ll be sleeping much, though.” He saw the flicker in your eyes and grinned, nodding as he lifted his glass to his mouth, swallowing the last of his drink and licking his lips clean. 

 “Lead the way.” Logan followed you up the stairs, his hands at your hips, and when you stopped in front of a door, your hand on the knob, he reached past you, fingers closing around yours and his body pressing against you fron behind. “Wait.” He was almost growling in your ear, and Logan felt your hips shift back against his, your lips forming his name but barely getting the word out audibly. That’s what I was lookin’ for. “I just wanted to tell you,” he said as his hand moved back from yours and up your arm before it moved to your stomach, his nose in the hair that curled freely behind your ear. “I rode here fast, because I wanted to spend the night with you.” You nodded, and Logan pressed you against the door, the fingers of his hand undoing the top buttons on your vest and then sliding beneath the soft material and against your skin. 

 “I’ll make it worth your while, Logan.” You turned your head toward his and Logan pulled back slightly, giving you space. “We just gotta get int-”

 “Do we?” He kissed you, almost tasting the surprise you felt, and grinned against your lips, the tips of his fingers curling around the swell of your breast, bare beneath the leather you wore. “I think we can -”

 “She’s sure pretty, partner.” He froze at the sound of the voice, both annoyed with the interruption and angry that someone had dared to make a comment about you in his presence. That’s not how this works. “Maybe when you’re done with ‘er you can send -” He swore under his breath and pulled his hand away from your chest, leaving the one at your hip where it was. 

 “She’s not a fucking Host.” His words came out in a hiss as he turned the top half of his body, eyes blazing in the dim light of the hallway. “And she’s not -” The man was dressed in a pair of dark pants and a dirty button down shirt, a black hat perched on his head. He’s good looking. Logan was surprised, but he knew better than to relax, the hand that had been on you going to his hip, where a pistol was holstered. 

 “No need to get upset.” The man held both hands up, his eyes looking past Logan and to you, the smile back on his face. “Even prettier from the front.” Logan was quiet, waiting, and then he heard you whispering in his ear, one of your hands resting against his back. 

 “He’s a Host, Logan. It’s fine.” You pressed your lips to the back of his neck, sighing. “Part of the game, hmm?” You spoke quietly, but then cleared your throat, stepping to the side. “I’m all set.” You took Logan’s hand, twining your fingers together. “Already got the rest of my night planned, but thanks for the compliment.” The second man stayed quiet, regarding you with ice blue eyes for long moments and then he nodded once, reaching up to tip his hat. 

 “You two enjoy yourselves.” After he turned away, heading for the stairs, Logan took a deep breath and returned his attention to you, nodding at the door. 

 “Inside.” No more interruptons. You wasted no time opening the door and walking into the room, and Logan looked around, taking it in. It was simple - very understated, but it looked cozy, and though Logan had seen his fair share of rooms in Westworld, it was always nice to see what the Delos money was paying for. “How were you so -”

 “I think it’s part of the narrative, Logan.” You were sitting on the edge of the bed, removing your boots. “They have to identify someone in town, right? Make sure they’re here? Gotta have someone scouting, even if the other guys ride in.” I didn’t even think about that. He stared at you as you twisted your hair over one shoulder, lips pressed together. “I’m in their sights now.” Are you? God she’s so fucking excited about this. He raised an eyebrow, bending over to pull his own boots off and curling his toes. Finally. “You picked a different outfit this trip.” 

 “I did.” Logan stepped over to the bed, grinning. “I just grabbed shit off the hangers and put it on.” He stood in front of you, reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders. “If I’m gonna be ridin’ out into the middle of the goddamn desert lookin’ for you, I didn’t want to wear layers.” You laughed, reaching out and pulling his shirt untucked, starting to undo the buttons from the bottom up. “Less for you to take off, too.” You looked up at him, not saying anything but still smiling, and he dropped his hands so that he could shrug his arms from the sleeves, the material falling to the floor as your hands worked his belt undone. “All business tonight?” 

 “Just focused, Logan.” You pulled his belt from the loops, letting it clatter to the floor and then lowered your hands, flattening them on the bed and scooting backwards onto the mattress. “And grateful  to you for defending me from that Host in the hallway.” Your lips quirked up as you spoke, but before you could get another word out, Logan climbed into bed with you, letting his body press down against yours, like he’d been wanting all day. “Jesus, Logan, you’re…” He was unbuttoning your vest as he kissed your neck, hands working quickly between your bodies. Once he’d undone the last one, Logan pulled the material apart and sat up, kneeling over your body on the bed. 

 He could see you clearly in the moonlight streaming in through the window, and the night was perfectly cool - Logan’s favorite type of night in the park, and the exact opposite of the sweltering day it had been. “Every time I see you,” Logan said the words quietly as he ran a hand up your stomach, spreading his fingers apart and pushing down gently. “I… just wanna touch you.” He swallowed, leaning down and kissing you hard on the mouth, your heart pounding beneath his fingertips. “I can’t help it.” He nipped at your lip, and though you’d been laying still beneath him, you reached up, one hand gripping his bare shoulder and the other wrapping around the back of his neck to hold him in place. “Yeah? That’s what you…” You arched your back, pressing your chest against his, and Logan’s fingers curled, thumb swiping against the raised peak of your nipple before he swallowed your breath in another kiss. 

 You pushed him away from you only a few minutes later, and though he was surprised, it didn’t last long as he watched you unbutton your pants, pushing them down over your hips along with some ruffled cotton and lace. He continued watching you for a few monents, reveling in the reveal of each inch of your skin, and then Logan moved too, keeping his eyes on you but raising his hips to take his own pants off, followed by the thin cotton shorts that he wore in place of typical underwear. I’m so glad we don’t wear this shit now. Both of you totally naked, Logan grinned at you, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you said you wanted to touch me, Delos.” He laughed, shaking his head back and forth as he moved back toward you, reaching out with both arms to pull you away from the bedding and onto his lap, your protests quiet and totally for show. He ran both of his hands over your back, waiting until you’d settled with your knees on either side of his body, your hands on his chest. “Got the shot this time, Logan.” Your eyes were wide as you stared down at him. “It’s good for a month, so -” Shit. 

 Delos had introduced new medical products onto the market over the previous year, one of them being a new form of birth control that was offered to both male and female guests of the parks just in case they happened to interact with a human instead of a Host during their trip. You had yet to try it out, instead preferring to stick to the methods you’d been using previously both inside of the park and at home. Why now? “What made you…” He cleared his throat, mind racing. That means… His hands moved from your back to your front, pushing both breasts together without looking away from your face. “You -”

 “Wanted to try it, see if I like it better.” You shrugged, leaning down. “Who knows, maybe I’ll stick with it when we go back home.” He squeezed your flesh gently as your hands moved up and into his hair, lips dropping to his ear. “You’ll have to tell me what you like better.” With a roll of your hips, you traced your tongue along the edge of his ear and Logan’s lips found one nipple, teeth following soon after as he bit down. You groaned - louder as his tongue swirled, and then Logan switched his attention to the other side of your chest, opening his eyes briefly and then closing them again as you started whispering in his ear - his name, pleas for him to keep going, and then as one of his hands made its way between your legs, you swore, pulling hard on his hair. Exactly. It was rare that Logan felt comfortable enough with a partner to go without protection, even when they were on a secondary form of birth control, but at the thought of burying himself in you with nothing between you for the first time? I can’t wait. 

 But he did wait, wanting to be sure that you were ready for him; one finger and then two slipping in and out of you with a practiced ease, Logan curling his fingers slightly without moving his wrist, mouth still on the skin of your chest. “You ready for me?” You nodded, patient as Logan’s lips made their way back up your neck and he removed his fingers from you, sliding the hand around to your hip and pulling your body down tight against his. “I hope so.” He kisssed you again, his hips jerking upward and causing you to cry out as he connected with the sensitive skin he’d been touching. No more. Been waiting all goddamn day for this. “Lay down.” 

 You were moving before he was finished speaking, trading places on the bed so that he could kneel above you, the fingers of the hand that had been touching you wrapped around himself, slowly stroking. “Logan, let me, I want…” But he shook his head, watching as your chest rose and fell, one hand resting on your stomach as the other gripped the blankets beneath you. “C’mon, Logan, I -” 

 “Not tonight.” He ran his tonge over his lower lip, reaching up with his free hand to push his hair back and out of his eyes, head shaking slowly back and forth. “Tonight I wanna enjoy this, what you’re… what we’re gonna…” Your eyes widened, and he could almost feel the excitement radiating from your body. She wants this, too. “You sure? There’s condoms in the drawer, they’re in every room, I -”

 “If you don’t trust the shot, Logan, that’s fine, but …” Your head moved slowly back and forth, hair spread out over the pillow. “I trust it, because I trust Delos.” He felt a flash of apprehension, thinking of William’s scheming and the collection of data, but pushed the thoughts away, again focusing on you. Not tonight. Not now. 

 “Oh, I trust it.” He watched your eyes leave his face, your gaze focused on his hand, on the way that his wrist twisted, his thumb moving slowly over his tip. “Just wanted to ask you again.” Logan took a deep breath and then let go of himself, using both hands to widen the spread of your legs before he settled between them. Won’t matter, her legs’ll be around me in… With a smile, Logan reached down again, guiding himself to your entrance, and with a long, low groan he pushed into you, fighting not to close his eyes. Look at her face. You lost the battle, your eyes sqeezing shut and your mouth dropping open as he filled you, one hand reaching out toward him and the other gripping the bunched sheets below you tightly. Holy shit. You felt incredible, muscles tight around him, and he’d been right, one leg wrapping around his thigh and the other around his waist as Logan settled in. Fucking perfect. 

 The two of you found a rhythm, Logan’s body covering yours, your nails digging into his back as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, lifting you off the bed slightly, the other hand pressed into the mattress to brace himself. Logan’s past partners had wanted more from him; more than the places where their bodies had connected with his, more than the muffled moans and groans, more than the minutes of pleasure, but he’d never been willing to give it to them, at least not the way they wanted. He’d kissed his partners, sure. He’d touched them, of course, knowing that his skilled fingers and tongue were almost as high in demand as the rest of him, but with you, the bare minimum wasn’t enough, and he knew it never would be. Not again. In the span of time that he’d known you, Logan had done the impossible: he’d fallen for you, even though he didn’t know how to tell you. 

 He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that it had started out as simply sex, seeing you in the halls at Delos and being physically interested, but the peeks he’d gotten into your life - starting with your tattoos at the Christmas party and then your wit in the interactions you’d had at work and then on the night you’d allowed him to take you to dinner had made him more interested, and well before the night of his admission in the suite, he’d decided that he wanted more with you. So Logan kissed you at every opportunity, even as his hips were rocking against yours and you were leaving long, red marks on his back. He touched you, the grip on your shoulder anchoring the two of you together, his other arm still supporting some of his weight but the fingers of it stroking the side of your face at the same time. I want to tell her, but it’s not… I need to deal with William first. He didn’t want to complicate things, and though he knew you knew he was being faithful and you didn’t expect more, Logan wanted to give it to you nonetheless. “Fuck, Logan.” You groaned quietly, the ends of your nails moving against the back of his neck. “You feel…” I know. 

 Logan slowed the movement of his hips, lengthening his strokes, and you responded accordingly, meeting his thrusts with tiny ones of your own. She always… It was never a race to the finish with you, never an attempt to draw things out to impress each other; when he was with you, Logan let things happen as they were meant to, and enjoyed every second of it. He felt some lingering soreness from the horseback ride in, and knew that you’d come before he did that night; he could feel how close you were with the changes in the way your leg was wrapped around him, the grip you had on his bicep. “C’mon.” He mumbled the word against your throat, teeth grazing against the skin. “I feel it, but I wanna feel you…” His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of your throat as you swallowed and he tasted sweat, even though it was still chilly in the room. You’re right there, I know it, I… He was taken by surprise as you moved the leg that was around his thigh and planted your foot on the mattress, moaning out his name, and Logan felt his tightly wound body snap, emptying himself inside of you with a few more faltering thrusts of his hips as he bit down on your shoulder, teeth sure to leave a bruise that no one would see beneath the embedded ink. Fuck. 

 It only took a few more seconds - he thought it might have had something to do with the jolt of pain from his bite - and then you came too, muscles seizing around him, the leg that was still holding him in place going limp. “Jesus, Logan, I…” You were beathless, lying beneath him, and though spent, Logan refrained from pulling out of you, focusing on the slickness he felt, the heat between your bodies. “Get offa me, Delos, I wanna…” He groaned, taking a deep breath and then, even as he slid out of you for the final time, Logan sighed out your name, rolling onto his back and reaching for the drawer on the table, where he knew that a stack of folded handkerchiefs would be waiting. Standard issue Westworld. He handed you the first one and  then pulled out another for himself, and the two of you spent a few minutes cleaning up before he rolled onto his side, waiting for you to do the same. 

 Neither of you made any move to get beneath the blankets, and as Logan stared at you in the still-bright moonlight, he smiled, reaching out to run his fingers over your shoulder, the faint indentations of his teeth still present. “I’m sorry, I got…” You laughed, moving closer to him and returning your hand to his side, stroking over the skin atop his ribs. “You’re a surprise.” You smiled, half of your face hidden by the pillow. “You know that, right? I never -”

 “Gonna get sappy on me now, Logan?” He watched a you widened your eyes in mock surprise, pinching his skin. “Was it really that good for you?” He laughed too, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face back to his, muttering the words “shut up” before he kissed you soundly, tongue gently prodding your lips for a brief second before it entered your mouth again. Maybe I am. “Damn, Delos.” You sighed as the two of you separated, both of your heads falling back onto the pillows, eyes still on each other. “If this is how it’s gonna be, I’ll keep getting that shot, Logan.” You yawned and the movement of your hand slowed, but Logan didn’t speak again, instead just watching you as you drifted off. “Blanket, Logan.” You sighed but made no move to reach for it, and Logan instead sat up, pulling the blanket over the two of you without bothering to get dressed. Won’t matter, we’ll just be taking everything off again in the morning. “G’night.” You yawned again, and beneath the blanket, you moved even closer to him, tucking your forehead in against his neck, cheek pressed to his chest. Goodnight. 

 In the time before he fell asleep, Logan was only dimly aware of his own body’s movement, the arm not trapped beneath his body winding around you to hold you close. 

 --- 

 He’d been right about waking up. After what seemed like only a few short hours of sleep (but had actually been the whole night), you’d woken Logan, your hands exploring his body, and before getting dressed and heading downstairs, you’d tired each other out again, this time by the warm rays of the early morning sun. Leaving the saloon, you walked across the street and to the small restaurant, settling in at a table together and letting a cheerful female Host take your breakfast order. You asked for coffee, but Logan reached out, his fingers wrapping around the woman’s arm as she left the table. “Can we get a pitcher of water, please?” She nodded once at him, her eyes moving over his face before she turned and stepped away. Logan returned his attention to you, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side to loosen his neck. She needs it. “You need to drink water, and a lot of it. If they’re gonna take you out, who knows…” He swallowed. “You get thirsty real quick out there.” 

 His mind wandered back to the days he’d spent in the desert with William, the days he’d spent there after William had left him, wishing for water and hoping for death. It’s just a game, for her, but still… “Of course, Logan.” You reached out and squeezed his hand. “That’s smart.” You talked over breakfast, but Logan was distracted, both by you and lingering thoughts of William, as well as by the aching of his muscles from his time in bed with you. What is wrong with me? “Want to go for a walk, I can introduce you to the Sheriff, and…” He was grinning, up and out of his seat at your words, a hand extended. You took it, smiling back at him, and within a few minutes, you were walking down the street again, the sun blazing down even though it was barely midmorning. “Sheriff's right down here, we -” You gasped as you pointed, your eyes on the hills at the end of the street. “They’re coming, Logan, it’s…” He turned to look at you, hearing the excitement in your voice. “I can see the dust rising, the horses…” 

 His heart pounding, Logan did the only thing he could think of - he pulled you in and kissed you, a hand on the back of your head, the other settled low on your back as your hands pressed against his chest. It’s just a game, but… When he pulled back, you were smiling at him, but he saw the surprise in your eyes at his behavior, and he was almost sure it was mirrored in his own. Who am I and what have I done with Logan Delos? He released you as the sound of hooves became louder, and the two of you turned to look in the direction of the noise, along with others that were on the street. He watched the two horses, their feet kicking up dust as they stormed in, and before he could even react, the animals had stopped in front of the two of you, one of the men dismounting and pointing his gun at you. Shit. 

 Logan’s hand went to his waist, fingers twitching over the butt of his gun, but he watched you shake your head, eyes wide. “No, Logan.” You swallowed, playing along, one hand held upto halt his movement. “It’s alright, they warned me…” 

 “She’s comin’ with us.” Logan noticed for the first time that the man still on horseback was pointing his gun at him, and as his eyes moved back and forth, he felt a slight tightness in his chest. Just a game. She’s not in danger. “My partner’s gonna toss you a rope, and you’re gonna tie her hands together.” The gun didn’t waver from where it was pressed to your neck, but Logan watched as you fought not to whimper, knowing that it would cause him to take action. “An’ then she’s gonna get on this horse with me, and we’re gonna ride up into the hills and see the Boss.” A coil of rope fell at his feet, and Logan glanced around, watching as the people and the other Hosts looked on, none of them even thinking about interfering. “I said tie her.” Logan finally heard you gasp at the sound of the gun cocking, and he bent down, picking up the rope. This isn’t gonna go over well, this is too intense, no one’s going to… “Both wrists, make it good, cowboy.” 

 “I’ll find you.” Logan spoke quietly as he reached you, taking one wrist into his hands and then the other, knotting the rope around them tightly before he curled his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I promise, I’ll...”

 “I know.” He looked in your eyes and while you looked scared, you were still excited. “I know you will, Logan.” I don’t like this. The man on the horse instructed Logan to step back and so he did, reluctantly letting go of you. “I’ll see you soon, Logan.” He nodded, taking two more steps away from you and watching as the man holstered his gun, using one arm to lift you and waiting until you’d gripped the saddlehorn with both hands to kneel down, giving you something to brace yourself against. You put one foot in the stirrup, swinging your leg over the broad back of the black horse and he followed you, swinging easily up behind you. Logan felt disgust watching as he reached past you, taking the reins and settling his arms on either side of your body, chest pressed against your back. I don’t like this at all. 

 “You thinking about comin’ after her?” Logan’s attention was pulled away from you by the second man, but he only turned his head partially, keeping you visible. “Playin’ the hero?” With a laugh, he continued. “Good luck findin’ us up in those hills.” He heard you call out to him as your horse turned and began galloping out of town, and Logan caught the fear in your voice as you bounced in the saddle. I’m coming. “You come before sundown, and she dies.” Logan didn’t have a chance to speak before the second man took off after the first, the sound of hooves fading after long seconds as the three of you rode out of view. Shit, I should have… but no. She wanted to be taken, this is the narrative, she has to… 

 “Hey, you there.” Logan turned at the sound of the voice, noticing a man in a badge striding down the street toward him. “Who wa-” But he was cut off by the sound of more hooves, this time coming from the opposite direction. This place is fucking busy. Logan turned his head to look in the direction of the new noise - three grey horses, a single man atop each. Wait a minute… Brow furrowed, Logan watched as the three men tore through town, pausing only long enough for one of them to reach out and grab the arm of a lone blonde woman, pulling her off of the ground and onto the horse with him before they continued down the street, following the tracks of the first horses, the woman screaming loudly for help. What… Staring after the men, Logan felt himself freeze. Three men, not two. 

 “Who were those men?” He turned his attention back to the man with the badge, raising one hand to point. “The men on the grey horses, that grabbed …” The horses...

 “Those are McCray’s men.” Adjusting the brim of his wide white hat, the sheriff shook his head. “Was tellin’ your friend about ‘em yesterday, and…” Wait, if those were… who… 

 “Then who…” Logan pulled his own hat off, tapping it against his hip as he felt the panic rise in his chest. “If those were… where did… who…” He shook his head, pointing. “Who the fuck were the two that…”

 “I have no idea, son.” The sheriff stared at Logan, shaking his head. “Never seen ‘em in town before in my life.”

---

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[saundraswriting]

Interior Design Chapter 2: Arrival

SUMMARY:You get to the Compound. You get a run down of what you are begin offered. You get the promised tour and meet-N-greet, and make a fool of yourself. But this is your dream job.

WARNINGS: NONE

NOTES:This is an everyone lives/no one dies, Living in the compound, Non Civil War compliant, No Sokovian Accords AU.

Previous / Next

At exactly 2pm a broad man with some facial hair opened the door to the car that had just pulled in front of you. "Ms. L/N. I am your driver, call me Happy. I am to drive you upstate to the Compound." He helped you in and tucked your bags into the trunk.

"Hello then, Happy. Call me Y/N. Thank you for the ride." You were trying to hide your nerves behind your manners.

"There are drinks back there if you want. Beyond that sit back and relax." Happy said pulling into the never-ending rush of traffic. You sat quiet, prepared for the slow-moving endeavor that was driving through NYC but Happy moved through alleys and side streets to move through and around the traffic, having seemed to memorizer the traffic light timing. It was impressive.

"Are you sure that you don't have some sort of driving enhancements?" You asked your companion.

"No. I just have spent too many years running errands for Mr. Stark." Happy said. He looked up at you through the rear-view mirror. "Not that you are an errand or anything."

"Happy, that is exactly what I am. Thank you though. I am not exactly on Mr. Stark's priority list to have him come and see me." You tried to ease his concern. You turn to look out the window and gape, Happy had some how driven you out of the city and on your way truly to the Avenger's Compound. You wanted to push on the Driving enhancement but kept it to yourself.

"Oh my. I am really going. I'm doing this." You muttered to yourself.

"Y/N, they are just people. Yes, super enhanced or gifted but still people. People who want a place where they can be themselves. You see superheroes? I see tired people with super burdens." Happy said. "Now, relax."

Happy's  advice helped significantly to calm you down. It was something to remember, you were helping them make their house a home. Someplace for them to turn off. You pulled out your tablet and pulled up your designing program to open a new project. You had a kitchen, living room, media room and about a dozen bedrooms in the project. The rooms were customizable to an extent but you chose to work with what was provided. It was simple but effective to help plan layouts of things. You added comments on each room of things you would need to look at or plan for. The kitchen and pantry needed to support the massive appetites that the team would have and each bedroom needed to be assigned for better focus. You did layout some basic things like beds and end tables such. You knew everyone would like it different, but you figured the rooms would be almost exactly the same build. After about 90 minutes of basic fiddling you saved it.

"Y/N, we are just about there. I believe in you. The idea of what you need to do seems scary and overwhelming but you'll figure everything out in time." Happy said. The car pulled onto a hidden road and you watched as it followed the curves and bends as a gate rose up to meet them. Happy pulled into what seemed the front of the building and helped you out of the car and grabbed your bags.

The two of you entered the empty foyer. "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you tell Pep and Tony we're here? And do you know where Ms. L/N will be staying?" Happy spoke to the open room.

"I already did. They are on the way. Ms. L/N is located in room 12." A disembodied Irish voice rang out.

"Well, you heard the robot lady. I'll leave you here for Tony and Pepper. I will drop your bags off. F.R.I.D.A.Y, introduce yourself. Y/N, it was a pleasure meeting you." Happy took your bags and headed off down the hall leaving you alone and nervous.

"Ms. L/N, I am F.R.I.D.A.Y. I am a artificial intelligence system designed and maintained by Tony Stark. I run the Living Areas for the Avengers and the Iron Man Suits." The voice spoke once more. You looked around for a camera or speaker to speak to but couldn't find one so you looked to the ceiling.

"Oh, nice to meet you Ms. F.R.I.D.A.Y. Please call me Y/N." You told the ceiling.

"Very well, Ms. Y/N. Welcome to the Avenger's Compound." She responded.

Oh, good you two already met. You turned at the voice of Tony Stark.

"Come on, we can continue this in my office." A willowy red-head was with him, who you correctly assumed to be Pepper Potts.

The three of you walked to her office while making small talk. Tony asked about your education and where you came from. You told them about your suspicions of Happy's driving enhancements. The two others laughed and Tony agreed with you. When you finally arrived at Pepper's office, you sat in front of it, her behind it and Tony leaned against it.

"This is going to be a quick as I can make it but there is a lot to cover. First, the contract is a long-term non-exclusive for your benefit. This is just to start, if you chose to extend it then we would make you a permanent employee. You will have to sign Non-Disclosure agreements since you will be dealing directly with the Avengers. You will have the time and means to work with you current and future clientele like I said before. Your current place of living is also your center of operations but we could move all that here for you if you would rather. The contract itself is for the initial decorating for the personal and common living areas for the Avengers. Then also the major holidays and change in seasons or trends or any requests of the Avengers. We would also have you on for light  maintenance and housekeeping mostly for when the Avengers aren't around, like vacuuming and changing a lightbulb. if you see something in disrepair either fix it, put in a work order or order new. We do have a team for more particular fixes, and the team takes care of a lot on their own as it." Pepper explained. You nodded along and made some jotted down some notes.

"What about supplies? Payment? Limitations? Labor?" You asked. Pepper smiled slightly, secretly pleased at your questions, you were thinking, that was good.

"We pay for everything. You have full rein, there are no limitations. Pardon the rooms, that is where you would work with each resident. WE are at your beck and call for anything you would need help with." Tony took over the explanation. "I will be completely honest. I want you to accept this contract, move in entirely and then extend your contract to be a permanent employee. I want that because I like you and I know that everyone else will but we can revisit that later." Tony said. Pepper handed over a copy of the contract. you placed it in your bag and jotted down Tony's comments

"Alright, then I will review this tonight and think about it. I don't like to make decisions in haste but I will tell you that I have no doubts about this. I am attracted to every single part of this including moving in fully. I only am worried about how I would get to and from the city, I make a lot of trips." You told them.

"So do we. Most days we make a trip to the city. But you can always borrow a car and head in. The Tower is SI's still you can park there and do your thing. A minor detail." Tony said. You nodded and shrugged, it was a minor detail. "Now we are going to go. I want to show you around and have you meet one or two people. I will be your personal tour guide while Ms. Potts runs my company." Tony pushed off of the desk and you took it as your cue to go. You held a hand out to Ms. Potts.

"Thank you Ms. Potts. I am grateful for the opportunity." You followed Tony out the door waving to the already busy woman as you left.

You followed Tony to the elevator and down several hallways. He talked a mile a minute about everything, you weren't even trying to keep up. You were sure he just liked to hear himself talk. You tried to learn the layout but you weren't sure. It seemed that the common areas he was leading you to were in the center of the right side of the 'A'. The personal areas seemed to stack on top of that point fanning out.

"So the first level is mostly common areas. Gym and pool and such, the living room, kitchen, pantry the size of a small country, all are down here. Then the next level is the second level is rooms, they kind of fan away from the common areas in groups of 5. The all lead to the small inclines that meet around the living room...like a funnel?" Tony tried to explain.

"Oh, so everything is connected but also has its definition? Good idea to help go from mission to home mentality." You commented. Tony snapped his fingers.

"I knew I like you. Sorry it is a little bit of a walk, Pepper's office is on the SI side, near SHIELD. We are almost there." Tony said. You nodded. "I also had F.R.I.D.A.Y put better more accurate blueprints on your tablet and laptop. So you can better plan. I figured then you can use your app to better prepare the rooms." Tony seemed hesitant. You wanted to be mad but it actually was a help more than a hinderance.

"I don't mind. That helps a lot, but maybe next time ask?" You said. Tony seemed to relax. You knew that he had your entire history but you knew that Tony wanted to help his team and protect them so you weren't upset that much about the privacy invasion.

"Very well. Now, your domain ma'am is everything you see before you. Welcome to the Avenger's Living Quarters Ms. Quartermaster L/N!" Tony waved his arm in a large sweeping motion. You were facing the living room from a behind diagonal, near the kitchen. The floor was an open floor plan. You could see beyond the kitchen was a long hallway. There was a door next to the kitchen, you assumed it was the country-sized pantry. The Living room was a large entertainment area. The kitchen and living room were divided by several couches-or one massive sectional-and on each side of the living room was a slight incline into what you assumed were the bedrooms.

Oh, it is nice." You said. You pointed to each point and Tony confirmed your thoughts, You nodded and beamed. There was nothing done to the space other than the bare minimum. A fresh clean slate with free rein. "I think I have some ideas." You clapped excitedly gathering the attention of the few people in the room. You froze seeing them see you.

"Hello! I am Y/N L/N. I am interviewing to be your Quartermaster. I am in charge of decorating your living spaces." you grinned and waved childishly.

"Oh! We talked about this this the other day. When we asked about who to contact, F.R.I.D.A.Y brought you up as did Pepper." A large blonde blue-eyed man came up to you. You knew the Avengers had gotten new members but you lost track around 2016 or so. Even so, you knew Captain Rogers. You knew that he and Tony had been fighting over his best friend the brain-washed assassin who had killed Tony's parents. but most of the others had fallen through the cracks. "Let me introduce these couch potatoes." Steve led you to the couch, Tony trailing behind. "This is Sam Wilson, Air Force paratrooper, AKA the Falcon. This is Clint Barton, Archery expert and 80% deaf, AKA Hawkeye. This is Natasha Romanov, Super-spy aka Black Widow."

"Hey there, girlie. Welcome to the team." Sam said.

"Well, I haven't accepted yet. There is a lot to consider." You shrugged.

"If you are here, meeting us. You've accepted." A deep voice rasped from the entryway to your right closest to the kitchen. You turned to face them and your breath caught in your throat. His hair was long, greasy and clumpy, his skin pale and dry, the bags under his eyes were deep, and his scruff was unruly. The man made his way into the kitchen barely looking at you.

"Sh. Don't say that too loud. I haven't told Tony yet." You stepped over to the kitchen, you head tilted in curiosity. Steve reached out to grab you but you ducked out of the way. You knew who this man was, you knew everyone considered him dangerous, but he looked so sad and tired. You wanted to try to help. "Sargent Barnes? Thank you, for serving your country all those years ago in the 107th. I am sorry you had to suffer so very much to get here. and well..."You trailed off and lurched into his space before your courage gave out. "Welcome home, solider." you mumbled into his chest squeezing as tight as you could. You felt him freeze under you and you let go instantly. You had pushed a massive line and didn't want to make it worse. You knew a hug wouldn't fix him but it might help in that very moment. You stepped away and saw Sargent Barnes was indeed frozen, looking at you with a mix of awe and relief on his face. His eyes were overly wet and his arms were raised like he didn't know if he should wrap them around you or push you away. You didn't wait for him to thaw before hurrying to Tony's side.

"Mr. Stark, Sargent Barnes was right. I will take the job. Also Captain Rogers, you should get him a plant or two. Coming from someone extremely depressed and still struggles with it, plants help. Something that depends on you to live without major consequences can do wonders for mental health. Sargent Barnes needs to care for something, now that he no longer has to protect you Mr. Super-solider." You tugged on Tony's sleeve realizing that you stepped over the line immensely, the embarrassment and anxiety causing you to shrink on yourself. Tony took the hint and pulled you down the opposite hallway Sargent Barnes came out of. You looked behind you one time to see Steve and Bucky locked in a hug both of them crying silently. The wall then blocked your line of sight.

Previous / Next

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Hello! I am an idiot who thought the key to happiness was another WIP. Let me know what you think!

[andinewton]

Victor x MC(Reader)  Bake My Way Into Your Heart

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: VictorxMC(Reader)

Warnings: None I can think of

Summary:  You ask Victor’s advice on baking.  He doesn’t trust you not to screw it up.  He was right.  

MC - 10.47am: Sorry to bother you…do you happen to have a foolproof recipe for sugar

cookies?

MC - 11.02am: Don’t worry, I think I found one!

Victor - 11.03am: What do you mean?

MC - 11.04am: I mean I found a recipe that looks simple enough!

Victor - 11.06am: You’re trying to cook?

MC - 11.09am: I’m not trying.  I’m going to succeed!  I’ll send you pics when I’m

done, and if you’re lucky I might bring you one!

Victor looked from his phone to his schedule and sighed.  He pressed the intercom on his phone and spoke clearly.  ‘Goldman, cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.’

‘Are you going somewhere, sir?’  Goldman asked as he looked over all the important meetings lined up.

‘Yes.  I’m going to stop an idiot in distress before it happens.’

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You wiped your hand across your forehead as you looked at the dough in your bowl.  It was supposed to be in one solid lump.  The only way you could describe the mess in front of you was crumbs.  Sighing heavily you resigned yourself to starting over, picking up the bowl only to have it slip through your floury fingers, making you squeal as you preempted the crash and mess to follow.  But, to your surprise, it didn’t happen.  The doorbell rang as you stared at the bowl just hovering in the air just a few inches from hitting the floor and you realised why.

‘Come in, Victor!’  You called before plucking the bowl out of the air and putting it back on the counter.

‘What a mess.’  Victor remarked as he looked over the flour-covered surfaces, his eyes finally falling on you as you turned around.  ‘And I see it’s not just the kitchen.’

Wiping your hands on your apron you wished you had a mirror.  You had hastily caught up your hair into a messy ponytail and thrown on torn jeans and a loose t-shirt, not something you would have chosen if you knew Victor was coming over.  It wasn’t that you had a crush on the man in control of your company’s funding, it was that you were all out in love with him.  But that was fine, you told yourself.  It was a professional relationship, you didn’t see him outside of work…except you did…and more than once he had come to your rescue.  He irritated you enough that you knew it wasn’t hero-worship, but damn if he didn’t look hot with fire in his eyes and ice in his words.

‘I’m trying, okay?’  You replied, clearing up as best you could.

‘I know you are.’  He huffed out a breath.  ‘Show me the recipe.’

You pointed towards the tablet on the side, the screen long since locked as you tried to bring the mixture together.  ‘It’s on there.’

‘Passcode?’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘Idiot.’  He replied as he opened the tablet and read over the recipe.  ‘This is incredibly simple, I can’t believe even you couldn’t follow it.’

‘I think my flour is out of date.’  You admitted.  ‘And I didn’t have the right sugar.’

‘Are you trying to kill yourself or just give yourself food poisoning?’  He put the tablet back down.  ‘What exactly inspired this ill-gotten idea?’

‘I used to make cookies to hang on the Christmas tree with my dad.’  You replied with your head down as you concentrated on wiping down the counter.  ‘I thought it would be nice to make some to give to my friends and colleagues.’

Victor knew you missed your father and he couldn’t fault that your heart was in the right place.  Your strategy and execution of the task, however, were incredibly flawed.  ‘I’ll help you.’

Your eyes shot up to meet his out of sheer surprise.  ‘You want to…help…me?’  You never thought you’d hear those words from him, let alone in reference to baking.

‘Of course.  If I let you perish in some baking-related accident then I’ll have to start training some other dummy.’

‘But I’ll have to go buy more ingredients.  And are you sure you have time?’  You offered him an out, knowing how busy he was.

‘You’re good.’  He walked back through to where he had left a bag by the door, full of high-quality ingredients he had collected from Souvenir on his way over.  ‘So you can throw all of that out of date danger food in the trash.’

You blushed faintly at his obvious-to-you concern.  ‘Thanks, Victor.’

‘Don’t thank me yet,’ he replied, ‘I’m not helping you clean up this mess.’  He waved his hand at the countertops and you blushed harder at him having seen your place in such a state.

‘I’ll get on that right away.’

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A little under an hour later, the kitchen was clean, and the dough looked like it was supposed to, coming together slowly but surely.  Victor had supervised, at times having to hold himself back from taking over, knowing this was important to you, but as the mixture began to take shape he could hold back no longer.  His jacket, tie, and waistcoat were long since gone, draped over a chair, and his sleeves neatly folded back above his elbow.

‘Don’t be afraid of it.’  Victor’s voice was suddenly so close to you, the low tone rumbling through you as his arms curved around your body to join your hands in the bowl.  ‘Some things require a more gentle touch, like meringues, but dough can stand a firm hand.  It thrives on it.’

You swallowed hard at the warmth of his body against yours, trying to remember if you had heard him move, if he had made a sound at all, or if you had been too engrossed in your work to notice.  It didn’t really matter which it was, if any of them, but you wish you had had some warning, even as the heat crept up your neck and to your cheeks.

‘Firm hand, got it.’  You nodded to show you were listening, but the movement made your hair brush against him, reminding you once again of his proximity.  And then your mouth spat out what you were thinking without meaning to.  ‘I guess you’d know best in that respect.’

His hands froze in the mixture over your own for a moment before moving it for kneading on the countertop.  ‘And why would that be?’

His breath rustled your hair and your breath stuttered in your throat.  You really hoped he hadn’t heard that.  ‘Because...you know about cooking!’  You replied confidently.  ‘If I had to whip meringue I’d probably give it a good thrashing and completely wreck it!’

Victor swallowed heavily at the image her innocent words brought to mind and he shifted his pelvis just enough to relieve the burgeoning discomfort caused by them.  ‘When are you going to learn,’ he murmured, his voice unusually soft, ‘that if you ever want some pointers I’m more than happy to oblige.’

‘You’re just so busy.’  You replied in an equally hushed tone, making the moment more intimate somehow.  ‘I want to be able to cook better but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your valuable time.’

Victor’s hands slid from the dough to cover yours and you heard him draw a breath, as though he was about to speak, but then he stepped back, his hands withdrawing.  ‘That’s ready to roll out now.’

You swallowed heavily before replying.  ‘Right.’

🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

You made tea while the cookies were in the oven and served it to Victor at the little two seater table that sat in front of the window.  You just couldn’t settle enough to sit as Victor’s actions had both your heart and stomach fluttering.  You had so far asked if his tea was okay, offered him milk, sugar, honey, lemon, and boba; offered to make him something to eat, not that you thought for a second anything you made would be up to his standards; offered to pay him for the groceries he brought with him; and busied yourself clearing up what you had used and preparing the wire rack for the cookies to cool down.  Eventually Victor evidently had enough.

‘Sit.’  He said firmly, and you were in the seat opposite him before you realised it.  ‘That wasn’t an order.’  He smirked before sipping his tea.  ‘Just like this isn’t.  Drink with me?’

‘Sure.’  You smiled slightly before sitting in the seat opposite and picking up the teapot and pouring yourself a cup.  ‘I don’t know if I said already, but thank you for coming to my rescue.’

‘You don’t owe me thanks.’  He rested his teacup down again.  ‘I couldn’t leave you to potentially burn down half of the city, could I?’

‘It wouldn’t have been very responsible of you, it’s true.’

You sat quietly for a few moments when Victor spoke again.  ‘Do you plan on decorating the cookies?’

‘I bought some pre-prepared frosting with a piping nozzle, and some seasonal decorations.’

‘You probably won’t come to any harm doing that.’  He mused.  ‘But I’ll stay and help you, just in case.’

‘If you have somewhere to be, you don’t have to.’  You assured him.  ‘I’m sure I already caused chaos with your schedule because of this as it is.  Goldman is probably sticking pins in a little me voodoo doll even as we sit here drinking tea.’

Victor laughed so suddenly you almost spilled your tea.  ‘He wouldn’t do that.  He likes you.’

‘At least someone does.’  You quirked him a sideways smile.

‘Just because I’m firm with you doesn’t mean I don’t like you.’  He frowned.

‘I think harsh is more the right word.’

‘Sometimes you need a little push.’  He teased.

‘So if it’s only a little push why do I always feel like you’re throwing me into the deep end?’

‘It builds character, and I know you’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for.’

‘I appreciate the fact you have faith in me.’  You said quietly as you stared into your teacup.  ‘But I guess it also makes me feel like I’m not doing a good job if you have to set me straight all the while.’

‘You’re doing a good job, for the most part.  You just need…polishing.’

‘I guess that’s a nice way to put the fact I don’t do a good enough job.’

You didn’t see the look Victor gave you, a gentle one of consideration.  ‘Nobody’s perfect.’

‘You are.’  It was only when the words left you that you realised what you had said, your eyes darting up to meet his as you felt heat rush through you in an embarrassed wave.  ‘That is to say, I mean…’  You stammered, which was when the oven timer went off.

‘Saved by the bell.’  Victor murmured, quickly getting to his feet, and for a moment you thought you saw a pink tinge to the top of his ears.

Swallowing down the panicked lump in your throat, you hurried to grab the oven mitts as you came up with a logical response in your mind.  That logical response, however, turned into a spew of Victor appreciation.  ‘What I meant was you’re an amazing businessman, you can cook, you have an awesome evol, you dress nice, you know your stuff, you’re handsome, you…ow!’

In your rush you lost concentration for a moment and caught the inside of your wrist on the rack above as you removed the first batch of cookies.  You didn’t drop them, thankfully, but your wrist stung like hell.  Depositing the tray none too gently on the stove you shook off the oven mitts and blew on your wrist.

‘Idiot.’    Victor’s voice came from close beside you and you glanced up to find him beside you, his hand reaching for yours.

‘It’s okay.’  You murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but his fingers curved around your hand regardless, pulling you towards the sink where he immediately turned on the cold tap.  You gasped as the cold water hit your tender skin but Victor held you in place, his grip firm yet tender.

‘You need to be careful, pay attention to what you’re doing.’

‘I know that.’  You replied, watching as he concentrated on your burn.

‘I won’t always be there to help you, you know?’

‘I know that too.’  You looked up at him.  ‘But you always are.  Even if it’s with a sharp word or two.’

‘Does it hurt?’  He replied quietly.

‘No more than any of your normal quips.’  You shrugged.

Victor’s lips quirked in a small smile, realising you had misunderstood.  ‘This.’  He tapped your wrist with the damp cloth.

‘Oh!  It tingles more than hurts.’

He examined the mark closer, his fingers warm against your skin.  ‘I think we got water on it fast enough.  It shouldn’t blister.’

‘So I don’t need to dress it or anything else?’

‘No dressing, no.  What’s the anything else you would consider treating a burn with?’  He asked.

‘Uh…I don’t know.’  You replied hesitantly, before thinking of an answer.  ‘A kiss better?’

He raised an eyebrow at how forward your suggestion, realising it was entirely innocent as your cheeks darkened.  ‘You want me to kiss it better?’

‘Oh, no, no, no.’  You shook your head rapidly.  ‘I just meant…’

Words failed you as he looked you dead in the eyes and brought his lips to your wrist, the gentle touch barely noticeable over the burn itself, but it had your heart beating a mile a minute.

‘Did that help?’  His voice was low, impossibly intimate in such close confines.

You swallowed hard and tried to speak twice before any words came out.  ‘It stung a little.’  You whispered.

‘Then maybe that’s not what I need to kiss to make you feel better.’

At that point, you swore your brain melted as you seemed to forget how to function, that or your internal wiring blew a fuse.  Then it blew completely when his palm caressed your cheek, his thumb grazed your skin.  You had a moment of clarity when you realised what was about to happen, then his lips were on yours.  In all the times you had fantasised about kissing Victor, gentle had been the furthest from your assumptions.  Passionate, demanding, fiery, yes, yet nothing about this kiss was aggressive.  He kissed you like you were fragile, as though you could break or disappear at any moment.  Fingers touched your hair like they were the finest silk, lips brushed yours so softly it was barely a touch at all, yet still consistent in their task of caressing yours.  His other hand tentatively splayed on the base of your spine, yet he didn’t draw you closer, rather he kept a respectful distance between your bodies as though he was waiting for reassurance that this was truly what you wanted.  And there was no doubt in your mind that it was.

Your fingers hand found their way to the front of his shirt, grasping the material as much to anchor yourself as to keep him close, and you fought with yourself to keep the kiss as innocent as it was.

His lips left yours on a sigh but you kept your eyes closed for a moment before opening them to find Victor filling your vision.  His eyes flickered from side to side, searching your face for any sign that would clue him in as to how you were responding.

‘That does feel a little better.’  You admitted huskily, making him chuckle.

‘Maybe we should transfer those cookies now.’  He suggested.

‘I think they can wait a couple more minutes.’  You smiled, before closing the distance between you, the smile on Victor’s lips a hundred times sweeter than the cookies you had made.

[copias-thrall]

hiii, I know people dont usually hc copia as a dom but I saw your papa 3 ask and was wondering how he would be with a shy sub? (F)

Hello nonny! 

I actually think Copia would be a perfectly adequate Dom. Just because Copia likes to sub doesn’t mean he can’t Dom you. He’s at his core a shy, awkward rat man—but he didn’t make Cardinal without being able to give orders and put people in their place. 

*D/s; impact play*

He’ll happily bring it to your domestic life, telling you when and what to eat (you need more greens in your diet—have some spinach, dear), making sure you’re not late to services, and that you do your chores (this is an Abbey, not a hotel—it’s your responsibility to do laundry). And if you don’t follow his rules, he’s more than comfortable meting out a punishment. Unlike Papa III—who’s in it for the sexy punishments—or Papa II—who enjoys watching you suffer (how else will you learn, darling?)—Copia’s consequences are all perfunctory. To him sexy spankings aren’t a punishment, and he doesn’t enjoy hurting you to enforce a lesson. He’s more like a headmaster keeping you in line—he wants you to do your best, but he’ll bring out the paddle if he has to.

And he can bring it in the bedroom. It’s just a performance, right? He does those all the time on tour. You want the sexually aggressive front man? He can give you that. 

Being shy himself, he knows that you need clear directions to follow, no surprises. He’ll email you some suggestions beforehand, then a script of what you picked, so you know what’s coming.

When you arrive at his quarters, you’re already expecting that you’ll have to strip, so you’re fully prepared for that. He opens the door, and you see that he’s in his tight red suit, a couple of top buttons undone.

“Come in, pet,” he says, gesturing you inside. You enter, and he closes the door behind you. “We go to the boudoir now, yes?” He ushers you into his bedroom where there is a nightie set laid out on the bed.

“Change into those, per favore. When I come back in 5min I expect you here,” he points to a cushion on the floor, “in position.”

When he leaves, you scramble to change out of your habit and into the lingerie. There’s a filmy, red baby doll top—it covers you from your breasts to just below your hip, yet leaves nothing to the imagination—and matching opaque, crotchless panties. After changing, you fold your clothes—leaving them on a chair in the corner—before kneeling, hands behind your back.

Copia comes back into the room in what feels like at least 15min later, but you’ve kept your position on the cushion. He’s lost his suit jacket, and has his sleeves rolled up—showing off deceptively muscled forearms under his thickness. Your bottom knows from personal experience how powerful they can be.

“What a good girl you are. So patient,” he coos as he runs a hand through your hair. He grabs one of his chairs and swings it around in front of you; he makes himself comfortable on it.

“Now, have you been a good girl this week? Followed all my rules? Or do you want to confess anything to your Cardinal?”

You gulp, eyes cast down. “I was late to service twice, and on Tuesday I ate a wedge of brie for dinner.”

He tsks. “Well, I had hoped you’d warm my cock—”

You moan—you love warming his cock … the easy, mindless task that allows you to shut your brain off and float pleasantly in your subspace.

“—but I guess we start with your punishment, no?” He pats his knees “Up. Up up up!”

You get up as fast as you can on stiff legs, and position yourself over his lap. He runs his leather-clad hand over your bottom.

“Lovely,” he says. “Let’s warm you up, hmm? And then the cane—if you’re still ok with that.”

“Yes, Cardinal,” you say.

“Mmm,” he rumbles, pleased. “I think I will enjoy this.”

He pulls your panties down, giving the curves of your ass another caress before he lands a firm smack right in the middle. You gasp.

“Hmm—I think 20 on each cheek will do. Now, I expect to be obeyed, so do not raise a leg or an arm, or I will add more. Sì?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

“Okie dokie. Here we go.”

His gloved hand comes down firm on your one ass cheek, and then just as crisply on the other. His pace isn’t quick, but it’s steady and constant enough that he’s about 4 in before you draw in breath to gasp at the sensation. At 10 it’s just beginning to sting, at 15 you start to squirm, but by 20 there’s a throb going between your legs.

“Very good, dear,” he says, drawing your panties back up. “Now, go bend over the bed, palms flat down.”

On wobbly legs you straighten up and follow his directions—even though you’re a little self-conscious about having your ass sticking up in the air. Copia runs a gentle hand down your back.

“You are beautiful like this, pet. Sweet and submissive for me.”

You relax a little. If your Dom is telling you that you’re beautiful like this, then you are. You stay like that until Copia appears in your line of sight. He holds out his walking cane for your consideration. You feel a thrill of anticipation.

“Yes, pet?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

He shuffles behind you, a grounding hand on the small of your back.

“You know the number for each infraction. So that is 5 total, yes? Agreed?”

“Yes, Cardinal. Five.”

His hand slides down to your rump to remove your panties again.

“Okie dokie. Please count each one and thank me.”

He rests his cane across your ass before you feel it move away, then there’s a swish and a crack before the sting explodes across your cheeks.

“One!” you gasp. “Thank you, Cardinal”

You’ve barely got the words out of your mouth before the second strike lands, a little lower.

“Two!” you squeak. “Thank you, Cardinal.”

The third hits you on the crease of your legs, and you grunt, leaning forward. After a moment, Copia taps you on the backs of your thighs.

“That’s one more for moving and neglecting to count.”

“Yes, Cardinal,” you say, and you move back into position.

Copia’s hits are sure, but moderate. You pant through the fourth strike, whine through the fifth, and gasp out the sixth.

“Thank you, Cardinal!”

His leather caresses your bottom, and you don’t know whether to press into it or to shy away. You wish he’d address the pounding between your legs. The hand runs up your back, over your neck, and under your jaw to lift your face up.

“Very good, amore. You did very well. I am very proud of you.” 

He raises his cane to your face. You kiss the decorative topper.

“Thank you, your Eminence.”

“You’re welcome, my pet. Now, up on your stomach.” He pats his bed before moving away.

You slowly slither prone onto his bed and pillow your head in your arms. A sudden cold lays across your ass, and you hiss at the sensation.

“Relax,” coos Copia as he slides off the panties. He reappears in your vision. “We will let that sit for the moment, yes? Now, please.” He offers up a bottle of water and two tablets of ibuprofen, which you greedily take up. “Slowly,” he chastises as you gulp down the liquid.

Once you’re done, he sets the glass aside and crawls onto the bed, resting his back against the backboard. He arranges your head onto his meaty thigh, and you notice his bulge. Following your gaze, he chuckles.

“I guess cockwarming is out, eh?”

You nuzzle his thigh and work an arm around to pet at his hardon through his pants. He tips his head back and closes his eyes..

“Mmm … that is nice, pet. Thank you. Such a good girl.”

You flush at the praise.

His hand comes around to massage your scalp as you slowly massage him. You squeeze your thighs a little to get some stimulation on your clit, the slight pull at your sore bottom adding to the arousal. Forgetting yourself, you start rocking slightly into the bed. Copia cracks an eye open.

“Ah ah ah, pet,” he says wagging a finger at you. “You know I control your pleasure tonight. Or is my naughty girl asking for more punishment?”

You still immediately still. “No, Cardinal. Sorry, Cardinal.”

“Hmm. I won’t punish you further, but I think waiting will be punishment enough, no?”

You bury your face in his leg, your clit giving a frustrated pulse. “Yef, Kerdinal,” you mumble into his thigh.

“What was that, pet?”

“Yes, Cardinal,” you say as you turn your head.

“Very good. I should like you to pleasure me orally, I think. But first things first.”

He grabs up the arnica from his night table and pats his thighs. You shift to crawl over his lap, the now warm ice pack slipping off your ass onto the bed. He yanks his glove off with his teeth and runs that hand over your cheeks. You twitch at the contact before he dips a finger between your folds. You moan.

“Hmm. Must not have been much of a punishment, eh? You are very wet, mia cara.”

He plays a little at stroking your clit and rubbing up and down your slit before yanking off his other glove in the same manner. Fumbling a little one-handed, he squeezes some cream from the tube into his palm. When his hand makes contact with your sore bottom, you hiss and press into his finger.

“Easy now, pet,” he soothes. He proceeds to spread the cream evenly over your cheeks with one hand, while the other plays with you. You melt into both sensations until they are suddenly removed. When you whine, Copia just taps you on the back.

“None of that now. You knew the rules. Now, hands and knees over me, please.”

You obey quickly, scrambling to reposition yourself. Copia licks you off his fingers—rumbling in pleasure—before he unzips his pants and takes out his fat cock and his balls, which he cups. He settles himself back into his pillows against his headboard.

“Please,” he says, gesturing at his cock.

Eagerly, you dip down and suckle the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head. Copia moans and begins to roll his balls in his hand.

“Yes, amore. Yes, just like that.”

You take him deeper—as deep as you can in your position—making sure to press the flat of your tongue into the vein on his shaft.

“Ah! Yes, right there.”

You work him like that—teasing his cockhead and hollowing your cheeks out on his shaft—until he’s giving little abortive thrusts, and your limbs are trembling. He cups your jaw so you have to look at him.

“I will fuck your face now, yes?,” he growls lowly. “Say I can. Please, can I?”

Usually you shy away from this act—self-conscious at the ugly noises you make—but it had been an option in his script, and he’d assured you that nothing could sound lovelier to him than you taking his cock. But you say so, and we stop he’d promised you.

You give a tentative nod, and he closes his eyes chanting, Thank you thank you. He gets a grip in your hair and starts with a slow guide of your head down shallowly onto his cock. He does this a few times—trembling with the effort of not thrusting up into your mouth—then begins to push you a little deeper, a little faster. You give yourself over to his control, making sure to hold your limbs steady.

“So good, so good,” he moans as he begins to incrementally increase his speed.

Soon his gentleness is replaced with a frenetic desperation, and he holds your head in place as he begins to thrust up into your mouth, his hard cock hitting the back of your throat over and over.

You know you’re making Those Noises, but Copia moans out, “So gorgeous, so lovely. So good for me, my beautiful one.”

A sudden hardening of his already stiff cock is the only warning you get before he shoves your head down as he thrusts up. Any sound of surprise you would have made is cut off by his cockhead down your throat. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he breaths out in time to each spurt of cum as his cock throbs against your tongue. And then suddenly the hand at the back of your head is gone, and you pull off his dick, coughing and sputtering. Copia grabs at you, pulling you up his body to kiss you soundly, his lips insistent and his tongue unrelenting.

“So good, so sweet,” he coos when he comes up for air, resting his forehead against yours.

“Did I please you, Cardinal?”

“Yes, mia dolce.”

He puts a finger under your chin. “I am going to devour you now.” You shudder. “Do you wish to stay as is, or can you lay back?”

“I can lie down,” you say.

“Good. Scoot to the end of the bed, pet.”

You go to lie down on your back—carefully arranging your nightie to best affect—as Copia stands up to hastily shuck his pants. He gets one leg off, only to hop and teeter on the other, bumping into his nightstand and knocking some of his belongings off.

“Ai, cazzo di merda!”

You bite your lip hard to refrain from laughing.

He finally removes the other leg, then shakes them out and tosses them onto a chair with a flourish.

“Ta da!”

You do giggle at that, and he turns to grin at you.

“I enjoy hearing you laugh, pet. Such a lovely sound.”

He kneels down at the edge of his bed and arranges you more to his liking. There’s still a subtle pulse of pain on your ass, but it’s manageable. Copia leans in between your legs and takes a deep breath, eyes closed.

“Ah, such a delicacy.” His eyes snap open, mismatched and seeing into your core. “I can’t wait to lick all of it up.”

He dives in, messy and artless at first—the flat of his tongue lapping you in great sweeps, warm and rough over your folds. You moan—anything on your sensitive area feeling wonderful—and grip the sheets. Then he wiggles his tongue into your slit and begins to flick in a steady motion over your clit. You cry out, tossing your head back and forth at the sweet feelings his motions elicit.

The pad of a finger rests on your hole, and when you don’t protest, Copia slips it slowly into you. Your eyes roll at the feeling, and you press down; when you do, the sting from your ass jolts through you—but it just makes your pussy spasm in pleasure. Copia hums into you, and takes your clit in his lips to suck as he tongues at you in a press press press of glorious pressure.

You’re moaning and gasping as Copia circles his tongue around your clit, then flicks it with the tip. At some point a second finger entered you, and he’s slowly thrusting both in and out—a sweet pass that’s aided by how slick you are. You feel your orgasm right there, and you back arches with the tension.

“Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,” you moan out, and Copia speeds up the flick of his tongue and curls his fingers to press into your sweet spot. You tense further, the pressure of your bowed back sends a throb through your sore bottom, and suddenly you’re cumming, screaming out as your pussy pops and your clit pulsates. You feel yourself clench hard around Copia’s fingers, and he lets out a tiny moan.

He licks you through the aftershocks even after you relax back into the bed. After he removes his fingers, he gives them a long, hard suck. His eyes meet your hooded ones.

“So sweet, mia cara.”

You just reach your hand down, and he grabs it, stroking the web of your thumb. Then he gets up, his knees cracking.

“Rest for a bit, pet. I’ll run us bath.”

You roll over and rest your head in your arms, dozing lightly until you feel him lean over to whisper in your ear.

“Come now, amore. I used those Epsom salts you like.”

[sophcaro]

Back in Time | WMatsui - Chapter 15

 Two months later.

Rena walked into the entrance vestibule and retrieved her coat from the hanger, dressing up and slipping into her shoes. She shut her eyes close, as if to mentally prepare for what was to come. She felt a sudden shiver of apprehension. For the past two months, those visits had turned into a routine. Nevermind how fragile and shattered they always left her, for nothing in the world she would put an end to them. Rena was extracted from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps approaching. She took time to recompose herself and slowly glanced over her shoulder, making eye contact with Akane.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Akane offered, conflicted. “I could come with you.”

“Thank you, but I already called a taxi,” Rena said, reminding her. “And you have to be at work in half an hour, remember?”

“I can afford to arrive a bit late,” Akane said, with gentle insistence. “I don’t have any important meeting this morning.”

“Arrive late? What would the CEO think of her chief operating officer behaving in such a way?” Rena said, attempting a light, joking tone. Her friend didn’t seem fooled by it. “Thank you, but...” she added in a weak murmur, a forced smile curving her mouth but not reaching her eyes. “I prefer to go alone.”

Rena saw her hesitating, her mouth opening and closing as if she wished to add something, but she didn’t say anything. Yes, she preferred being alone during those visits. Tears always fell with great ease, too hard to contain, and she refused to offer such a sight to her friends again. They had already witnessed her sorrow far too often for her liking. She wanted to retrieve a semblance of dignity.

When did she come out of her state of torpor and inactivity? It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment. At first, she went downstairs to share meals in common, returning to the darkness of her bedroom straight after. Progressively, she went out an hour, and two, slowly back to interacting with the other members of the household.

Alice, the family’s domestic robot, had been the easiest to start with. Rena didn’t feel ashamed to look like a mess in front of her. She patiently listened as Rena spoke. Her replies were always tainted with a certain innocence and naivety, characteristic of her robotic conception, but she never asked questions more than necessary. Rena felt comfortable in her presence; Alice was a simple but easy company.

Gaining confidence, Rena allowed herself to engage in conversations with Akane and Airi. A few minutes at first. As the weeks went on, it turned into an hour, then two. Conversations were light and trivial. Mostly non-important. But the renewed socialization enabled her to slowly come out of her shell. Shizuru, Akane and Airi’s quiet and good-mannered daughter, occasionally took the initiative to engage a conversation with her, mostly to share her everyday life at school.

The only person Rena hadn’t managed to interact with was her own distant daughter. During meals, Natsuki focused on her plate and barely said a word. When they found themselves in the same room, Rena sometimes caught her daughter staring at her. As soon as their eyes met, Natsuki looked away hastily.

Right now, as Rena finished preparing herself for her departure, and she observed the two children playing in the living room, her eyes suddenly locked with Natsuki’s. Rena distinguished a flicker of hesitation in her expression. These last few weeks, it wasn’t the first time she witnessed it. Her attitude had changed ever so slightly. She refused to talk to her, but the visual exchanges lingered, as if she was… torn? Yet, this time once more, the brief visual interaction ended as every previous one. Her daughter’s reproachful and upset look: Rena would never get used to it. And it made her heart clench in pain every single time.

“You should tell her the truth,” Akane said tentatively. “It’s not right… It’s not right to make her hate you for this.”

Rena took a deep, shaky breath. It wasn’t the first time she brought up this topic. “It would only make her suffer.”

“Because it’s best to let her believe her mama abandoned her? Don’t you think she could believe it’s her fault if she left?”

Rena’s eyes widened. “No, she wouldn’t…” she stammered, words failing her. “She believes it’s my fault. She wouldn’t think…” At Akane’s serious expression, the realization hit her. A pang of shame swept through her. Her wish was to protect Natsuki from the harsh truth, and she had been more than willing to put all the blame on herself. All this time, this eventuality hadn’t crossed her mind.  

Rena turned away, not wanting her friend to witness the indignant tears that threatened to come suddenly to her eyes. “I know I have to tell her the truth. Trust me, I do.” Her voice was husky with despair. Deep down, Rena was aware she couldn’t lie to Natsuki eternally. But how could she consider having this conversation when she felt herself breaking at the simple idea? “I just don’t know how…” With an effort, she lifted her eyes and gave Akane a pleading look. “I need a little more time. Please. I promise I’ll tell her.”

“Alright,” Akane said, offering her a sad but friendly smile. She wrapped her fingers around Rena’s palm and, feeling it shaking, gave it a light squeeze. “It’s fine. On your own terms. When you’re ready.”

Rena was secretly relieved when she didn’t insist, and turned on her heels. “Ah, wait!” Akane sounded urgent behind her back. “Before you leave, could you sign this? It completely slipped my mind.” Akane retrieved a digital tablet from her briefcase. “It’s for the launching of the new project. The board of directors approved it; it only requires your signature.”

Rena’s gaze dropped to the tablet Akane was handling her. She skimmed through the text and, without second thoughts, added her signature at the bottom of the page.

“By the way….” After a moment’s hesitation, Akane continued. “When are you planning on coming back to the office?”

Rena tried to hide her unease with a fake smile. “From what I’ve seen, you’re managing the company very well without me.”

“I’m doing my best to run it in your absence and I’ll gladly continue as long as needed,” Akane said, trying to sound reassuring. “But the board of directors have raised concerns. They are understanding of the situation, but they fear an impact on our partners and investors on the long-term.” She swallowed, and her expression turned apprehensive. “The last thing I want is to rush you into going back to work if you’re not ready. I hesitated a lot to mention this, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. The board needs to be reassured, and my words have limited effect. I’m afraid only the CEO’s presence will manage to put them at ease.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to…” Rena’s voice trailed off weakly.

On a few occasions, Akane and Airi had suggested her to consider going back to work. They seemed inclined to believe that, the slow and progressive regain of an activity would do her some good. She had difficulty sharing their view on the subject. It already caused her great effort to leave the confinement of her bedroom. Even more to interact with others. She hadn’t hesitated to delegate the reins of the company to Akane, having no doubt it would be in good hands. Hearing the issues Akane was going through made her feel slightly guilty, fearing to have placed a heavy burden on her shoulders.

At the sound of her watch beeping, she read the message she had received. “The taxi is here. I should be back in an hour or two.”

“Take all the time you need,” Akane assured her. “I’ll drop Natsuki and Shizuru at school on my way to work. Airi has an appointment at the office this morning, but she’ll work from home in the afternoon. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to ask Alice if you need anything.”

Rena nodded silently and opened the front door, but couldn’t help stealing one last glance in the direction of the living room. She lingered on her daughter, attentive to her every move, watching her play with Shizuru. Pain tore at her heart at the deterioration of their relationship. When would she be able to be a real mother to her? When would she find the strength to confess the truth about her mother’s death? Despite the uncertainties placating her, Rena felt a twinge of reassurance. Natsuki wasn’t alone. In this household, she was surrounded by people who had undivided affection for her, especially an adorable friend by her side.

 **********

Matsui family vault.

Rena’s footsteps came to a halt, and she read the golden inscription carved into the black marble façade. Despite its majestic, imposing stature, the grand funeral building was located in a quiet, isolated area of the cemetery, preserving it from needless attention. Its Roman architecture, sharp contrast with the modern technology of Tokyo, was a direct influence from her great-grandfather’s legacy. Rena wasn’t a capricious child. She didn’t raise her voice in presence of adults. She always obeyed her father, following his instructions to the letter. At her great-grandfather’s passing, and her father suggested to reduce his body to ashes and place him into a cremation site, she refused to stay silent.

Her father and her great-grandfather didn’t get along. Their conflictual relationship went back to the time when she was a young child. Rena never got to learn the official reason behind their dispute, but as the years went by, and she became more attentive of her environment, she figured her father’s frequent infidelities, added to his lack of paternal love, were not innocent to it. In the professional field, no one could match Akihide Matsui’s pioneering spirit and talented skills as a business man. It had propelled Matsui Corporation in the top 10 companies of the country after one year of existence.

But not the same could be said of the father figure he represented. Rena had learned to grow up without a mother, and with limited contact with her grandparents. Raised by nannies, her education taken care of by knowledgeable but dull private tutors. Ignored by an absent father who gave more attention to his work and fleeting conquests, Rena was a smart but lonely child. Her only sources of happiness resulted from the times when her father, in his rare moments of leniency, allowed her to visit her great-grandfather on one of his archeologist’s sites.

Consigning her great-grandfather to oblivion in one of the dozens cold and soulless cremation buildings that abounded around the city was out of the question. She had spoken up, staking her claim, refusing to give up until he accepted to erect a site worthy of his heritage. To her surprise, the conversation didn’t turn as heated as she feared. Maybe her father had been caught off guard by the unexpected moment of rebellion. After a long silence, during which his expression proved unreadable, he had calmly stated it was a waste of money but agreed to her request, under the strict condition that she took care of all dispositions.

Rena didn’t let herself get discouraged by the challenge.

At the age of 15, Rena surrounded herself with the best in their field of expertise. She brought her input into the elaboration of the construction plans, and undertook the building of the family’s vault.

For a little while, Rena stayed in front of the entrance, feeling a sense of pride at what she had accomplished. After 15 years of existence, the vault still stood proudly, preserving the remains of the members of the Matsui family.

Extending her hand, Rena placed her palm flat on the rectangular panel located on the left side of the door. A light scanned her hand, and Rena saw her picture and name pop up on the screen. “Matsui Rena-san,” announced a robotic voice. “Authorization granted.” The door opened up, and Rena walked inside.

Over the years and the evolution of society in terms of robotics, Rena had taken the liberty to make a few changes to the original building. Securing the main access had been her main concern, followed by the customization of the interior’s design. The vault was divided into separate rooms, one for every family member, each space arranged carefully to allow visitors a proper time of reflection.

Rena had stopped counting how often she came to visit Jurina. Her knees weakened and her chin trembled at the sight of the coffin positioned in the middle of the room. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and progressed further inside. The walls were decorated on all sides with the virtual projection of a forest landscape, accompanied by the light rustle of wind in the branches, and the melodic chirping of birds.  

Rena wasn’t an adept of excessive technology, but she didn’t regret implementing those modifications. They contributed to create a peaceful and relaxing atmosphere to the sad and cold place. Separating her from the white coffin, was a transparent glass window, secured by another control panel. Rena repeated the process and placed her hand on it, the quick scan confirming her identity, and allowing her to enter.

“Hello, my love.” Rena slid her fingers along the polished surface of the white wooden coffin. “I miss you. I miss you so much.” Her voice cracked; her eyes grew large and liquid. “But I guess you’re tired of hearing that week after week? You probably prefer if I tell you about my day? I’m afraid it will lack originality.”

Rena staggered a few steps away from the coffin and glass window, the door closing automatically at her passage. Feebly, she sat down in the chair behind her. Not taking her eyes from the coffin, she wondered when those conversations became a habit. The first time she passed that door in Akane’s presence, her insides had exploded into pieces, a wail of excruciating sorrow bursting from her throat at the sight of what remained of her wife. As seconds transformed into minutes, and her pain showed no sign of diminishing, her best friend hadn’t waited any longer to pull her out of the place.

The second visit hadn’t gone any better. Rena had taken the initiative to flee the room as soon as tears rolled down her cheeks. Airi, who had accompanied her, hadn’t said a word and drove her back home, but the renewed failed experience had left Rena devastated. A few weeks went by before she gathered the courage to make a new attempt. She could literally feel the anticipation emanating from Akane when the door slid open, almost as if she was ready to drag her out at any instant.

To Rena’s relief, she managed to stand on her feet without breaking down. With unsteady steps, she had approached the glass window, holding her tears as best as she could. She hadn’t been able to stay long, overwhelmed by emotions, but when she left, Rena realized the important step she had achieved. The following visits marked a further progress. Not only was she capable of going alone without Akane or Airi’s assistance, she had formed a sort of routine. Talking to Jurina for an hour about everything and anything. Somehow, those visits became less painful, even bringing her some comfort, almost as if Jurina was still present and hadn’t completely left her side.

Rena’s gaze drifted to the picture frame of her smiling wife and the digital tablet disposed on a small rounded table. The tablet contained a list of files, pictures and videos, memories uploaded by visitors. It was a way of honoring the deceased, transmit the memory of the one who had left this earth but remained in people’s hearts and minds. Friends, co-workers… So many had contributed to preserve Jurina’s memory, and Rena was almost sure to have viewed all of them.

During her visits, Rena often watched at least one video. The painful and complex nature of her relationship with her daughter pushed her to play one in particular. One of the videos that Rena had herself uploaded. “Play memory n°11.”

“Playing memory n°11.” A robotic voice repeated. The forest background dissipated on the opposite wall, giving way to the video’s projection.

“Come on, blow your candles!” Jurina, who was wearing a silly blue birthday hat, could hardly contain her enthusiasm, clapping in her hands. On the opposite side of the table was seated Rena, who was doing her best not to laugh at her wife’s childish behavior. As of Natsuki, she was positioned between them, staring with envy at the chocolate cake. Four white lit candles were disposed as a circle and surrounded a larger one in the middle, representing the letter 4.

As if preparing for a complex challenge, Natsuki’s expression grew serious. Leaning over the table, she inflated her lungs and exhaled, blowing out the candles. All white candles extinguished, but not the one in the middle. The flame wavered left and right, but didn’t go out.

“Ah, Natsuki didn’t blow hard enough,” Jurina said. Her teasing tone didn’t escape Rena’s attention. She exchanged a look with her, and understanding crossed her face at the mischievous wink she received.

“I did!” Natsuki glared at the rebellious candle. With a great gasp, she filled her lungs afresh and blew with all her might. The candle flame flickered, a smile of victory already playing on Natsuki’s lips, only to vanish when the flame didn’t falter. The candle flame stood proudly in the middle, unaffected by Natsuki’s second powerful but failing attempt. “No!! It’s not… It’s not possible!”

Natsuki stared at the cake with anger and frustration, and Rena decided to put an end to her misery. “It appears your mama played a trick on you and bought one of those old vintage candles, didn’t she?”

Natsuki’s eyes widened and she looked at Jurina in shock. “W-What does it mean! How do I blow it?!”

“You can’t.” Jurina’s face split into a wide grin. She reached for a secret switch behind the candle. The flame, that had given Natsuki such a hard time, extinguished by magic.

Natsuki’s mouth dropped open.

“Taste your birthday cake.” Jurina cut the cake and put a slice on Natsuki’s plate. “Your mommy baked it especially for you.”

“Y-You did?” Natsuki tilted her head in Rena’s direction, incredulous.

“Yes, I did,” Rena replied, finding her reaction entertaining. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Natsuki could not hide her embarrassment. “It’s just that mommy is always so busy.” She lowered her voice, fumbling for words. “I didn’t think she had time to…”

Rena didn’t feel offended. Her daughter was only stating the truth. As CEO of a major company, her high position required a lot of personal investment and charged her with great responsibilities. However, this job she loved also had its disadvantages. Amongst them, enough free time to spend with her family. “Yes, mommy works a lot.” Rena drew her chair closer and reached for Natsuki’s face, stroking her left cheek gently. “But Natsuki must never forget how much I love her.”

Natsuki blushed and nodded, smiling shyly.

“And I love you too!” Jurina exclaimed, and kissed Natsuki’s other cheek. “In an hour, aunty Airi and Akane will be coming over with Shizuru. I’ve been told your girlfriend has a special present for you.”

Rena shot her wife a slight disapproving look.

Natsuki went scarlet. “S-Shizuru is not my girlfriend!” Her gaze quickly dropped to her plate and she took a piece, lifting her fork to her mouth. She opened her mouth and tasted it, her whole face beaming with the liveliest, happiest smile.

Rena watched her eat her cake, the way she gulped it down in barely three bites, soon requesting another slice. Rena looked over the other side of the table, and exchanged a subtle look of amusement with Jurina. Rena didn’t hesitate to comply to her daughter’s wishes, cutting another slice for her. Natsuki ate the second slice almost as fast as the previous one, emptying her plate in no time. Natsuki turned in her direction and placed a spontaneous kiss on her cheek, and Rena felt the warmth of pleasure fill her chest. Each day that passed, she realized how fortunate she was to have such a wonderful family.

The video had some footage left, but Rena wasn’t paying attention to it anymore, tears blinding her vision. Those precious family moments reminded her of what she had lost, and how strongly she wished she could go back in the past. She got extracted from her thoughts by the sound of the front door beeping. Caught off guard, she swung around, a robotic voice refusing the entrance to the new visitor. A second attempt was made, only for the control panel to deny access.

Rena heard footsteps receding, and she hesitated. The fact that the visitor wasn’t granted access only meant one thing: their identity wasn’t recognized by the system. Curiosity getting the best of her, Rena stood up from the chair and moved towards the entrance. As she slid it open, the stranger faced her back. It was a long, dark-haired slender woman, dressed in a long brown coat and a matching pair of boots. She wore light makeup, and her lips were slightly red. Her whole appearance was quite elegant and graceful, and Rena figured she had to be in her late twenties.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance,” the woman said, bowing respectfully. “I hope it’s not inappropriate, but I was wondering if I could pay my respect to Jurina-san.”

Rena studied her, and tried to figure out who she was. One thing was certain: she wasn’t part of Jurina’s close friends and colleagues. Otherwise, she would have recognized her immediately. The woman didn’t give her a bad impression, and struck her as sincere in her intentions. After a short moment’s reflection, Rena gave her a nod of consent. “Yes, of course. Please come in.”

Rena lead the way, the woman’s hesitant steps following her. Rena entered and realized the video was still playing. She switched it off hastily. The frozen image of the happy family faded on the wall at once, replaced by the peaceful forest scenery. Rena stood at the back of the room, using the opportunity that the woman was approaching the glass window to observe her attentively. A multitude of questions piled up in her head, one more pressing in particular. Who was that woman?

“Where are my manners. I didn’t introduce myself.” The woman turned around, and gave her a half-embarrassed smile. “I’m Iriyama-san.”

“Matsui-san. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Rena replied politely.

“Yes, I know who you are,” the woman said and, witnessing Rena’s confusion, added. “It would be hard not to recognize the face of the CEO of one of the top 10 companies in the country.”

“Right…” Rena murmured, feeling a little silly. “Sometimes, I forget anonymity is a luxury I can’t afford.”

The woman’s face became sober, and somewhat uneasy. “I want to express my sincere apologies for your loss.”

Rena’s features darkened. “Thank you, I appreciate your kind words.” She recovered quickly and smiled, but it just barely made it to her eyes. “Forgive me, but I don’t think we’ve ever met?”

“No, we haven’t. I lived abroad for many years, and came back to Japan recently. When I heard about this tragedy on the news… I could hardly believe it. Jurina-san and I didn’t part on good terms, but I knew I had to come and visit her. My eternal regret is that I’ll never have the opportunity to tell her how sorry I am for the pain I caused her.”

Rena was destabilized, unsure how to react to the confession. And what about the strange familiarity she had used to call her wife? For a while, they didn’t speak, and the woman redirected her attention to the casket visible through the glass window. “How… did you know Jurina?”

“We met in college. For two years, we studied in the same class. Until my actions caused our paths to drift apart,” Iriyama-san replied, with a sad undertone in her voice. “I was young and foolish, and hurt someone I truly cared about. It took me too long to realize my mistake and, once I did, Jurina and I had already lost contact. And now… Now I’ll never be able to ask for her forgiveness...”

She trailed off, and silence stretched between them for an eternity, before she added with a twinge of embarrassment. “I’m sorry for interrupting your moment of reflection. Once more, I want to express how deeply sorry I am for your loss. I couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the video, and I can see you formed a beautiful family. I can’t even imagine the degree of your pain.”

Rena stayed quiet, noticing from her peripheral vision the other woman walking towards the exit. That’s when it clicked. “I know who you are.”

Iriyama-san tilted her head back. The look in her eyes betrayed her surprise.

“Jurina spoke about you,” Rena started, putting pieces of the puzzle together. “The way your relationship ended hurt her a lot, but…” Rena was a bit ill-at-ease broaching this particular subject, but kept on, wishing to convey as much honesty as possible in her words. “Eventually, she managed to move on and forgave you. She found happiness again.” Rena offered her a small, tentative smile. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to live the rest of your life with regrets, so I hope you’ll be able to forgive yourself and put the past behind.”

It was a long while before Iriyama-san summoned the composure to speak.

“Thank you. Thank you for saying that,” Iriyama-san replied, with a flare of emotion in her voice. “And yes, I can tell she was truthfully happy with you.” Her face softened slightly. “It might be difficult to hear such a thing during those times of hardship you’re going through, but once your sorrow will have decreased enough, I hope you’ll find a way to move forward and rediscover a taste for life.”

Those were the last words they exchanged.

Iriyama-san offered her a polite bow and withdrew from the room, her last words lingering in Rena’s mind.

 **********

 It was 6 in the morning when Rena tiptoed out of her bedroom, careful to make as little noise as possible. The house was plunged in darkness when she walked down the stairs, and settled down in the kitchen for a light breakfast. The moment of quiet and solitude was the occasion to contemplate her decision. Fear and uncertainty crossed her features. What if she was going too fast and making a huge mistake?

The sound of feet clattering on the tile floor caught her attention and she looked up from her bowl of cereals. A pair of blue eyes were shining through the kitchen’s dim light and approaching her position. Rena lowered her gaze to the ground. Alice, the family’s domestic robot, was staring fixedly at her.

“You’re up early, Miss Rena-san. Is something wrong? Do I need to warn the mistresses of your presence?”

“No, it won’t be necessary,” Rena said, whispering back. “I have to go somewhere, but Airi and Akane don’t need to know about it yet.”

The female robot looked confused. “Mistress Airi and Mistress Akane need to be aware of everything that happens in the house. Not to mention, my role is to look over you. My mistresses were very explicit on that. I cannot disobey a direct order.”

Rena couldn’t help but flash a nostalgic smile. Alice’s sense of dedication and stubbornness reminded her of a special robot who used to share her daily life. It had taken her a little while to adapt to Alfred’s presence. Now that he was gone, Rena realized how much he had come to mean to her. Almost effortlessly, the adorable, helpful little robot had left his imprint in her heart.

“I thank you for taking good care of me.” At the memory of Alfred’s absence, Rena’s faint smile contained a note of sadness. “And you’re not disobeying any order. I was planning on leaving a note. Your mistresses will find it on the living room table as soon as they wake up and come downstairs.”

“Oh, alright.” Alice bobbed her head in agreement. “Thank you for this information. In that case, I can allow you to leave the house.”

Rena followed Alice’s retreating form as she retraced her steps back to her favorite stance by the sofa, the blue glow of her eyes slowly diminishing. Rena redirected her attention to her unfinished breakfast, and brought a spoonful of cereals to her mouth. Putting aside her brief encounter with her morning visitor, a knot formed in Rena’s stomach. She didn’t know if she was ready, but she had to see for herself.

 **********

 It was raining. Of course, it had to be, Rena cursed the droplets of water hitting her face when she stepped out of the taxi and arrived at her final destination. The weather was fine when she left her friends’ house, but it appeared misfortune decided to strike her. A few months ago, she would never have trusted the weather forecast, and systematically brought her mini collapsible umbrella each time she left home. Her carelessness left her both bewildered and slightly ashamed.  

“Matsui-san, please take shelter.”

Rena’s heart skipped a beat when she heard a male voice addressing her from behind, soon seeing an umbrella above her head. She spun around to look at him, her features slowly relaxing when she recognized the male guard. “N-Nakamura-san. I didn’t expect to see you. What are you doing here so early?”

“I always start work at 6 am, Matsui-san,” the guard replied, in a tone of mingled calm and politeness.  

“Oh, that’s right...” Rena showed some uneasiness and hesitation. Was her brain so muddled from being cooped up at home that she couldn’t remember the work schedule of one of her employees? “Tell me. Has… anyone arrived at floor 22?”

“Fuji-san, Minamoto-san and Tamura-san have arrived at floor 7. Mori-san and Haradara-san at floor 2. And a few other employees at floor 5 and 9. But no one from floor 22. You’re the first, Matsui-san.”

A wave of relief washed over her. It was the answer she hoped for. “Thank you, Nakamura-san. I won’t delay you any longer.”

The male guard opened the door for her, and stepped aside. “You’re welcome, Matsui-san. It’s a pleasure to see you back.”

Rena entered the building and didn’t dwell upon the receptionist’s surprised look, getting in the first elevator. Pressing the button 22, she tried to keep her focus on the change of floors numbers as she felt a shiver of unease stir deep down inside her. The feeling was strong, oppressing her chest, and she had to hold onto the handrail to brace herself for fear of losing her balance. Nevermind how hard she tried not to think about it, this place unleashed a stream of memories.  

It was the place where she and Jurina had first met, the latter soaked from head to toe in search of a new job opportunity. It was the place where, as soon as the elevator emptied and they found themselves alone, they had exchanged so many kisses and words of affection. It was the place where Jurina had asked for her hand in marriage, and she had immediately said yes. It was also the place where Jurina had showed her proudly an ultrasound, revealing the arrival of their first child.

The changes of floors felt interminable. 7, 8, 9. Rena panted, every breath burning through her throat. 11, 12, 13. It felt as though this nightmare would never end. 16, 17, 18. The idea of pressing the emergency button crossed her thoughts. Her hand clutched more tightly the railing, so hard her fingers hurt. 20, 21, 22. At last. The opening of the doors felt like a deliverance.

Her feet inched forward and she stepped outside, feeling herself tremble as she heard the doors closing behind her. She marked a long pause and tried to recollect herself, steadying her breathing. When she felt calm enough, she forced her legs to move. She walked forward, her movements stiff and awkward, until she stopped in front of the door leading towards the large office of floor 22.

As she entered, her first instinct was to sweep the place. She was grateful for the emptiness of the floor, mentally thanking Nakamura-san for his reliable memory. If she had opted for coming to the office at such an early time of the day, it was for a good reason. She wanted to avoid meeting people, fearing she wasn’t ready for any further social interaction. Making small chats at home with close friends, was one thing. Being able to hold a proper, civilized discussion with employees was a whole different matter.

She crossed the room, taking time to look around. The location of the desks. The decoration. The names of each employee, that she read and recognized, indicated on the upper right side of the window panel of every desk. Nothing seemed to have changed a bit since the last time she set foot in floor 22. Her path led her to her own private office, only to reach the same observation.

Here and there, there were some subtle signs that her office had been occupied by someone else. Rena recognized a few of Akane’s belongings, from a picture frame of her family, to her own computer. Some files were properly piled up on the left side of the desk. The place hadn’t been rearranged or redecorated, and was as tidied as she left it. Rena stood at the back of the office, feeling a warm, nostalgic feeling fill her chest.

Against all odds, her previous, almost traumatizing, experience in the elevator had vanished from her mind to give way to a more calm, peaceful sensation. When, a little while later, she left her private office and floor 22, Rena found herself conflicted. She thought it wiser to use the staircase, and the long, slow descent gave her plenty of opportunity to reflect on her next course of action.

She had felt at ease within the space of her office, surprising herself in missing her job and responsibilities, but returning to work implied more than sitting behind a desk. She would be required to attend meetings and conferences. Interact on a daily basis with employees, work partners and associates. Today, she had taken an important step forward. But was she ready to return to public life for all that?

I hope you’ll find a way to move forward and rediscover a taste for life.

The words Iriyama-san had pronounced replayed in her mind. These past two months, she had slowly emerged from her torpor. She had learned to appreciate again some aspects of daily life. Her palate became sensitive again; the food didn’t taste bitter anymore. She was capable of holding, as small and trivial they remained, bits of conversations with Airi and Akane. She didn’t feel a mere shadow of her former self anymore, and the light and outside world didn’t frighten her as much.

But she couldn’t get the picture of her wife’s body lying at the morgue out of her mind. Her chest was tight with emotion each time the memory resurfaced. She had to swallow hard to bit back tears and keep control over her feelings. Jurina’s face haunted her thoughts. She wanted to make her smile and hear her laugh. Embrace her and kiss her again. How could she move forward, when her brain refused to accept that Jurina had passed away?

Rena’s feet slowed down, and she halted in front of floor 11. It was one of the offices invested by the Research and Development Department. The department Jurina had managed, and developed so many groundbreaking projects for the past five years. All nervousness and apprehension slipped back to grip her. Every fiber in her body warned her against the idea of entering that floor.

Rena closed her eyes, trying to steady the sudden wave of fear that filled her. She had gathered so much courage to come all this way. She couldn’t turn back. She needed to overcome this new challenge. All her senses were in alert when she stepped inside the office grounds of floor 11, attentive to any noise, any sign that someone might be present. Just as Nakamura-san had stated, this floor was thankfully also void of employees. Rena’s heart was beating with an uneasy, irregular rhythm and she didn’t dwell in the main open space, taking it straight to Jurina’s private office.

Rena stood in front of the entrance, unmoving, and took a deep breath, summoning the last vestiges of her strength. Her hand tremored as she placed it onto the scan, a robotic voice granting her access. She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her, and she leaned heavily against it. Her gaze wandered around the room, in search of something out of the ordinary, but everything was the way it should be. Jurina’s office remained untouched, as if frozen in time.

Her black leather office chair. Her desk, with her computer and digital tablets. The square table in a corner of the room, with maps and files and other documents scattered over it. The walls decorated with a blue ocean scenery. At last, the large picture frame hanging on the wall opposite the desk, and representing Jurina’s family. Rena forbade herself to tremble and pushed herself away from the door, stepping closer to the middle of the room. Pulling the office chair, she sat down gingerly, fighting to keep her fragile control.

She tried to ignore the tightening of her stomach muscles, and let her fingers ran across the surface of the desk. She did not actually touch, merely passed the flat of her palm over her wife’s possessions, one after the other, slowly, carefully. When she felt her hand shaking, she withdrew it, and clutched her hands together in her lap. She dragged her eyes away and attempted to stand up, but her whole body felt heavy, refusing to respond, as if it no longer belonged to her.

Rena raised her hand and passed it over her face, closing her eyes, growing despondent as she could feel the tears wet on her cheek. Why on earth did she decide to come back to the office? Airi and Akane only meant well, but she remained too emotionally fragile. She wasn’t in physical and mental capacity to resume work, and this place brought back too many memories.

Absentmindedly, Rena pulled a drawer open, discovering a number of documents stuffed inside. A faint smile crossed her lips at her wife’s slight disordered desk. Jurina’s work was always so perfect and meticulous, that Rena wondered how she achieved such a miracle with her own personal conception of organization. She opened a second drawer, finding another stack of pages. Her attention was grabbed by a white envelope laying on the top of the pile. Blinking in confusion, she retrieved the mysterious envelope, and her body grew rigid as she read the inscription.

Rena.

She almost dropped the envelope; her fingers shook so. She ran her fingertips across the smooth edges and, for a long moment, stared at her name penned in Jurina’s handwriting. What words could be within? Why did she feel so afraid of opening it? She pulled out a letter, carefully unfolding it. It was an old-fashioned style of paper, slightly browned with age, crackling to the touch, just like an ancient parchment. The letter was bordered with a pattern of delicate flowers, that Rena recognized as pink freesias.

Happy 30th anniversary.

Yes, I know. You said you didn’t want to receive anything special. But did you truly expect me to listen? Today is the 30th anniversary of my beautiful wife. And nothing could have stopped me from making this moment unforgettable. For months, I thought a lot about what kind of present to give you. The idea of writing you a letter, and using an old style of paper from this vintage shop you love so much, was the first that came to my mind. I can even imagine your smile right now as you read this letter.

I knew I had to do something significant to mark the occasion. I’m sorry for hiding you the truth for so long. All those evenings, when you kept asking me what was delaying me at work, I had a difficult time to not revealing everything. You are so smart and persuasive. It’s a hard task to conceal anything from you. To be honest, I didn’t even know if I would achieve my objective. During months, I worked relentlessly on this project, as discreetly as possible to not alert anyone.

I did it, Rena.

I finished the plans of the time machine.

Right now, as I’m writing those words, I’m not sure how you will receive the news. I hope you won’t be mad at me for doing it behind your back. I know you said you had put that dream behind, but certain dreams are too meaningful to give up on. I want you to go back in time. Revisit all those wonderful, ancient civilizations you so often speak about. Please accept my gift. Please build the time machine. No one should live their life with regrets, and I never want to see that fire of passion extinguish from your eyes.

With love,

Jurina.

Rena could hardly breathe.

She held the letter between her shaking hands, her eyes transfixed on the words. Over and over, she ran her gaze across them. She had a hard time believing what she was reading. Adrenaline suddenly shot through her as she realized what Jurina had accomplished. A miracle. There was no other way to name it. Rena straightened her shoulders and, tilting her chin up, wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Her eyes gleamed with a newfound determination.

[ivebeenmade]

Tyrelliot; Quarantine, Day- whatever (the basics)

They both agree that the kids needs these skills. It’s not quite ironic that they need them just as much, if not more.

“First of all,” Tyrell begins, flour in his hair, a ring of sugar around his feet in a perfect circle. He looks like he’s in the midst of a sacrifice. “Why are recipes ever written like this?”

“They’re always written this way, babe.” Elliot smirks, eyes watering from the ingredients of one batch. They’d either used too much *something* in the mixture or he was allergic. Maybe it was just the look of the contents of the little stack of metal bowls. Signifying, not their failures, he’d reminded his husband throughout, but a skill they were learning to pass on to their children.

“If they want them put together in a certain order, it should say so, up there.” The blond replies stubbornly.

“Don’t disagree with ya, but I think the idea is so whoever is putting themselves through this bullshit has everything they need in their panty.”

“I really hope the world doesn’t end.” There’s a slight smirk on the taller man’s face, but Elliot knows that’s not far enough from his ‘I’m about to flip tables’ expression to push him too hard. And, he has a point.

“Me too.”

A few hours later, after the boys have finished their workbooks in their rooms, they bounce down the stairs. Homeschooling had otherwise been easy; the last class of the day already looked like a nightmare.

The neatfreak of the two, Rex, quickly cleans the table while Milo holds out a tablet, volume low. In 20 minutes they’re functioning together as they always do, and better. Their bedtime is extended (quite a bit), but by the end of the very early following morning, there’s several fresh baked loaves of bread.

Elliot and Tyrell agree they don’t really get to take credit for this, they’re just immensely proud that their sons are so adaptive so easily. It’s a skill both of them have, but apparently there’s a really strange data point in the learning curve when it comes to life skills. They silently blame their own upbringings, and move on, high-fiving their (less than themselves) exhausted children on the way to bed- finally.

[killmongerkink]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Erik, your roommate and friend, comes home from work drained and sick. After heading off to bed, you awake to strange noises and follow them back to his room. Little did you know what you would find behind closed doors.

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens X Black!Reader

Warning: masturbation, dirty talk, a dash of smut.

Length: 4k

BTW: idk why this is so long, but i hope you all enjoy & please show this some love bc i’ve re-written this like 10 times already smh. sorry if there’s any spelling errors

Part 2

MASTERLIST

You stayed silent, swirling your fork continuously in your plate of spaghetti as you watched your roommate sniffle roughly for the tenth time, his eyes fighting to stay open. It really didn't make sense for him to be fighting his fate with sleep, yet here he was ... holding back yawns and rubbing his nose roughly with the back of his hand. "Well that's ... disgusting." You mumbled, sighing heavily as you reached over to grab him a tissue. "Why don't you just take some medicine and sleep it off?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

You really had no idea why this man insisted on being stubborn. You figured you could just ignore him for the rest of the night and go on about your business, but you knew you were way too nice to do that. If you did, you'd just be staring at your door the whole time, fighting the urge to make him some ginger tea or get him extra blankets. But you knew Erik. He wouldn't allow you to take care of him in the slightest. He was too big-headed, way too arrogant .. and simply a dumbass if you were being honest. He could be on the floor dying and he'd still tell you to leave him alone. You didn't understand his logic most of the time, but figured he was grown enough to make his own choices ... as dumb as they may be.

"You gonna stare me down all night?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you blinked quickly and look back at your food. Another sniffle met your ears a second later, this one making you cringe at the sound of thick mucus filling the kitchen.

"That's it." You said more to yourself than him.

You moved towards the cabinet and opened it, hoisting yourself up on your tippy toes as you tried to reach for the top shelf. You really weren't thinking when you allowed him to talk you into getting this fancy ass condo together. While it was nice, the cabinets were way too tall, you could never clean the floor to ceiling windows and god forbid you even attempted to change a lightbulb around here. In the back of your mind, you figured he had purposely chose this apartment because it would allow you to need him. He was weird like that. As much as he would huff and puff when you would ask for his help with a simple task, you knew that he liked the feeling of being needed.

When you came to the conclusion that you were just embarrassing yourself, you plopped back down on your feet and looked at him.

"Are you gonna even help me?" You rolled your eyes, watching as he stared at you with a half bored, half amused expression.

"I'm good."

You were this close to telling him off, but decided against it. Fights with Erik never ended in your favor. Somehow he was always able to flip the script and make it your fault, having such a way with words that you would start to second guess yourself and your stance in any given situation.

"Well you better pray I don't fall and bust my head open, you know the cops won't hesitate to snatch your ass up."

Ending your smart ass of a comment with a smile, you turned back around and raised your leg, resting a knee on the counter as you struggled, but finally succeeded in pulling yourself up. The countertop dug into your knees painfully, making you sway back and forth in effort to not be on them too long and you snatched the medicine pack from the cabinet. Huffing out a sigh, you made zero effort to sit down lightly as you fell back onto your butt and turned your body, sitting down.

As you were checking the expiration date on the half empty box of DayQuil flu pills, you didn't notice Erik's gaze on you.

Matter fact, you never noticed his gaze on you.

You had seen the women he would associate himself with and you were the exact opposite. While they all had long hair down their backs, you opted to rock your natural hair in your usual braid out or space buns. While they all wore tight clothing that excentuated their curves and hips, you felt most comfortable in a big oversized t-shirt and sneakers. They would be bold and blunt with what they wanted from the world, while you just stayed in the cut and let life drag you wherever it wanted to. To say you were the opposite of his type was an understatement, but you learned to deal with it. Everyone had their own type and you just weren't his.

Although you wish you were.

Throughout your months of living together, you tied to date around and make him jealous, hoping that Erik would magically realize that he wanted you to himself and demand that you see no one else but him. And you would've happily obeyed to his demands, but once again .. that was a fairy tale you had conjured up in your head. You knew that he could never like someone like you, and after a while you began to accept that.

Erik had wanted to fuck with you the first day he ran into you. You had this innocent glow that he wanted to corrupt in the worse ways. He would notice you on campus being the perfect little student that everyone knew you to be. Other people, including himself, would walk into class late with just a pencil behind their ear and their phone. Yet, you'd be one of the few with a large book bag next to them as you had notes, paper, and books spread out in front of you ready to learn. While everyone stood at the university bulletin board looking for the latest club flyer, you were pulling off babysitting and tutoring ads.

You were different and he liked that. He knew that his chances of getting with you weren't really slim. He'd seen the way you'd look at him when you thought he wasn't watching, but you were one of the few females he was cool with. Fucking up a good friendship just for a quick nut was dumb, didn't mean he didn't think about you though.

Your body is what caught his attention at first. Short and super thick, like real thick. Smother me with your thighs thick, but you seemed to not appreciate your extra curves. You liked to cover up and wear baggy clothes, something that he found cute but also hated. On one rare occasion, you came to him and asked for his opinion on your outfit. There was some important presentation you had to attend and the attire was business casual. You walked into his room, giving him a complete 360 of your white blouse and fitted gray skirt, the dimples in your ass pronounced. He probably jerked off to that imagine about three times that night.

Honestly, you were his dream girl in every aspect, but you were too good for him. You actually had positive things going on in your life and a future that rivaled his own pointless one. One day you'd be some successful ass doctor, while he was still scrounging around and doing the same ol' same ol'.

"Here, take two of these and go lie down. Don't even try to say you're fine, because that damn snot bubble you're trying to keep down is saying otherwise." You said before he could even get out a breath and placed the tablets on a napkin for him.

You left the box on the counter, figuring that he would need some later and started to pick up the dirty dishes and place them into the sink. After about 30 minutes, all the leftovers were packed away, the dishwasher was running and the stove and counters were cleaned. Erik has mumbled under his breath all the way to his room after helping, but you could care less. Atleast you could go to bed knowing you had tried to help him get better.

After your nighttime routine was completed, you dropped own onto your bed and cuddled your pillow as you waited for the sandman to come and whisk you away for the night.

3:57 am

You stared at your phone as you laid still. The sound of a loud thump had pulled you from your sleep approximately 15 minutes ago and you had been hearing strange noises on and off since. It couldn't have been an intruder, could it? If you remembered correctly, Erik made sure to lock the door after he came in from work.

Still, someone could've been experienced with locks and was now roaming the apartment. Or maybe it was your neighbors who had kids? What if someone was attacking them? You decided to play it smart and text Erik first, for all you knew it could’ve been him.

Minutes went by without a reply back and you rolled your eyes. Every other night he was up doing god knows what, yet the one time where you needed him to be awake and alert, he wasn't?

"Answer your fucking phone." You whispered to yourself.

When you finally came to the conclusion that he was going to be of no help, you quietly got out of your bed, wincing as it croaked underneath you. Damn boxspring. You opened your side table and pulled out your bright pink taser. It was a gift from one of your girlfriends that was given as a joke, yet now you were thankful for her crazy ass. She'd definitely be proud to know that you were about to put it to good use. Bracing yourself, you said a silent prayer and cracked open your door, holding your breath as you waited for movement to catch your ear.

THUMP.

Being the dumbass that you were, instead of waiting for the intruder to come to you, you decided to be a bold bitch and leave the safety of your room. If this was a horror movie you would've been cursing at the lead. You never leave where you are, always let the killer come to you. Not thinking, you continued to follow the noise until you were stopped in front of a door ... Erik's door to be exact.

Was he hurt? Was someone in his room? Was he currently taking his last breath as you stood frozen in front of his door? With your finger on the trigger of your taser, you quickly opened his door hoping to catch whoever it was by surprise. Little did you know how much of a surprise you were actually in for.

Erik sat in front of his desk, headphones in both ears, eyes unmoving and trained on his iMac screen. His nostrils flared as his bottom lip was lodged under the top row of his teeth, the air releasing from his nose coming out loud and heavy. Trailing your eyes down lower, you were met with his naked upper half, the screen illuminating on his skin and making his scars look as if they were glowing. You tried to distract yourself by looking at his computer screen, but that was a mistake. The screen showed a girl that looked a lot like you on all fours, one of her hands underneath her she pumped her fingers into her pussy roughly, her face contoured in pleasure as you heard her moans through his headphones. You looked away, eyes fixated back on Erik's face and you fought internally not to look lower. A part of you deep down knew that there was no going back once you caught a peek, but you couldn't help it. You had to.

Taking a quick breath, your eyes shifted and you felt your knees buckle beneath you, your taser falling from your hands. Your eyes twitched momentarily as you blinked, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Was this a dream? Was this all some sick, twisted, extremely sexy dream that your mind had conjured up?

Erik's large hand was moving up and down in even strokes, his hand gripping the black fleshlight tightly and creating a vile squelching sound each time it swallowed his dick. Every once in a while the fleshlight would hit against the desk, creating the loud thump that had you worried earlier. His other hand was gripping his base, his fingers cupping his balls underneath as his hips started to roll upwards. A second later he pulled the toy off of him, opting to use both of his hands instead as he increased his pace, your eyes finally getting to see what he actually looked like. The view was better than anything you could've guessed. A thick broad vein ran along his shaft, the glare from the computer causing it to glisten and look as if it was dipped in sugar syrup, the fluid motion of both his hands gliding up and down with a good amount left abandoned every time he reached his head letting you know that it was big enough to choke on.

"Fuck baby.."

Your eyes snapped up and met his, his lip now released as he smirked at you, staring in your eyes. You shuffled back slightly, your hand gripping the doorknob tighter as another grunt met your ears. You were slightly embarrassed at being caught. Any normal person would've apologized profusely and slammed the door behind them, yet here you were. Your mouth opened to spill whatever random excuse you could think, your mind going into overdrive.

"Eri- .. I didn't mean to .. I was just-"

"You got a sexy ass mouth." He mumbled, turning his body suddenly so he was facing you head on. Slouching down in his chair, he spread his legs causing his sweatpants to lock around the top of his thighs, almost as if he was silently begging you to step forward.

Your mind was telling you leave and just deal with the awkward repercussions in the morning, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as you slowly walked towards him. No words were said between the both of you after that. He simply nodded down to the floor and the next thing you knew, your knees were digging into the plush carpet. It was almost as if he was a puppet master. With the flick of his finger or nod of his head, you were following his silent commands with no resistance. He kept looking at you as he reached over and pulled his headphones from the computer input, the sounds from the girl filling the air around you. You couldn't front, between her moans and his glare, you were turning into mush. Watching the grip he had on his dick had you desperately yearning to play with yourself, you hand rubbing against your thigh catching his attention and causing him to lick his lips.

He leaned his head towards you, his dreads casting shadows over his face.

"Bout time you came. I been waiting for you."

Having him so close to you made you want to shrink away and disappear. You had been around Erik long enough to see the kind of effects he had on girls. The amount of drama that females had gone through the get his attention was wild. Switching up on their friends, changing their appearance, one even went as far as quitting her job just so she could spend the week with him in Miami. Bitches were crazy, or maybe it was Erik who was making them that way.

"You came to take care of me again? Always going out of your way to make sure I'm straight. You a good lil bitch huh?"

You mouth hung open, the thoughts in your head mimicing someone smashing their hands on a computer keyboard. If anyone else was to talk to you like this, you were pretty sure you would've gave them a dirty look and tell them to back the fuck up, but for some reason, hearing those words come from Erik's mouth made you moaning mess.

Literally.

Catching what you were doing, you felt embarrassment bubble inside of you. What was wrong with you? Were you really getting turned on by this man calling you a bitch? Coming to terms with it, you accepted that you were. There was a tiny part of you buried deep down that always fantasized about someone calling you names, treating you like a rag doll as they filled every hole you had. You just didn't think this someone would be Erik.

"You like that?" He watched as you nodded your head, a chuckle leaving his lips and his hand quickly gripped your face, causing your lips to pucker like a blow fish. "Always knew you were a freak."

Without another word, he pulled you forward causing you to shuffle quickly and grab onto the handles on his desk chair in order not to fall. You were pulled right up to his dick, the large statue staring back at you menancingly before it was being rubbed against your lips. You let him entertain himself for a while, enjoying the feeling of him getting off to your plush sets. You fixed them into suction cups, sucking the skin as he bucked his hips up and down, your tongue pressing against him and your lips spreading the wetness around him.

It was then that a sniffle met your ears, causing you to remember the events from the night before. You looked up at him, holding back your smile when you saw his red nose, which was extremely cute if you had to be honest. You moved back, softly moving his hands away and grabbing him fully in yours. He hissed when you started twisting your hand around his length. He was warm .. almost hot. How long had he been masturbating?

"You sick and all you could think about was jerking off?"

"All I could think about was you. I caught what you were doing earlier.” Caught of guard, your hand halted for a spare second, face twisted in confusion. All you did earlier was make dinner, like you usually did since he couldn't cook anything more than rice and ramen. You went to reply and ask what he was talking about when he rested his hand over yours, the both of your hands now working together over his length.

"Climbing up on the counter in just your t-shirt, ass hanging out at the bottom. You think you slick?"

"I didn't know it was out.."

He chuckled, like a real genuine chuckle, as if it was the funniest thing he'd heard all day.

"Come here girl."

You assumed you were moving too slow, because only a second or two later he was lifting you up and situating you onto his lap, your thighs pressing against the chair handles. You remembered when he had ordered this big ass gaming chair, claiming the plushed back support was worth the grand he'd spent on it. There were so many things you could've spent a thousand dollars on and it for damn sure wasn't no chair, but it did come in handy. With its wide handles and large seat, you were more than comfortable even with your large thighs pressed against the sides. He bounced his legs roughly, the force causing your breast to bounce against your chest. If someone were to tell you that you'd be sitting in his lap, hand wrapped around his dick on a Tuesday night.. you would've laughed. A real hearty one as if you were watching a Katt Williams special. Yet, here you were. You couldn't believe it.

"What are we doing?" The question came from your lips in a soft whisper, almost as if you were scared for his answer. A part of you were. Maybe he would sit back and realize just how crazy this whole situation was before pushing you off and telling you to get out. Maybe he'd realize that you were still the same girl you'd always been and ask you what the fuck you were doing in his room. All of the negative things he could've responded with ran through your head. Why did you have to ask that?

"What you think we doing?" He leaned his head back, eyeing you. Before you could think of what to say, he reached and started scrolling on the computer.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." You looked at him annoyed, going to grab his hand away from the mouse, just for him to move it quickly. Here you were trying to talk to him and he thought the computer was more important?

"I don't want us regretting this in the morning. We fucking live together Erik, we’re supposed to be friends. This is gonna be so awkward.. oh my gosh."

Looking past your lust momentarily, you realized just how messy this was. Everyone knew that friendships couldn't work after hooking up. Sure, people would fake the funk and act like they were buddy buddy after, but you knew the truth. It would be weird and uncomfortable. You'd slowly start hanging out less, one of you always busy and out the house, no longer able to hold conversations with one another. Eventually one of you would have to move out, there was no question about it. God forbid you had to move back in with your parents, not even to mention how many questions they would have. Maybe you could find a new place, or try to get something on campus .. or- sound coming from his speakers caught you off guard.

You turned to the right and watched as the PornHub logo popped up before the video started. It was of a black couple, the girl sitting on the guys lap as he rubbed her ass. They started making out heavily, the girls moans ringing through as the man started to roughly grope her.

"Nothing's gonna go left. I ain’t gonna let you get away from me so easily, trust me. Just relax and let me take care of you like you take care of me. Now start stroking." Erik wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him as he kissed your forehead, casting them down towards your nose and lips before detouring towards your neck.

Your blurry eyes set on the large screen, taking in the sight before you and realizing he was pretty much mimicking them. When a loud slap rang through the room, Erik would make sure to follow it up with a slap of his own. When the couple would kiss loudly, Erik would grab you by the neck and kiss you roughly, tongue all in your mouth and down your throat as his lips pretty much covered yours.

"How many times have you watched this?" You trembled, goosebumps forming against your skin as your eyes closed momentarily. Your body was way too worked up and you could tell he was too by the amount of pre cum that had leaked from his head onto your hand, his wetness coating him everytime you caressed him. He was too busy fondling with your pussy from the back to answer. His middle finger dipping perfectly between your lips and leaving barely there touches against your clit.

"Enough to know I wanna fuck you like that." His finger bypassed the material of your underwear and finally slipped in, your body shuddering as you started rolling your hips. One finger wasn't enough and you were pretty sure two would just barely itch the scratch you had built up. His command to “open your fucking eyes” caused you to look back at the screen, seeing the couples positions now flipped. The girl laid back on the seat, her legs in the air as the man positioned his dick at her entrance, one long stroke allowing him to enter as the girl cursed profusely.

"Dreamed of fucking you in this chair, your ass hanging off it as your knees press against your chest, big ass titties bouncing for me."

"Must be a dream cause I'm not that flexible." You joked, earning a bite at your earlobe.

"You'd be surprised what the body can do when the right one handles it."

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