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leanderfields · 1 year ago

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kintsugi ch. 02⦂

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SYNOPSIS: Life as a Highborn noble can be as lavish and extravagant as one makes it out to be. After all, money talks in these parts of Eridia. Every interaction is transactional. Even relationships, a horrible realization that you had when turning down one too many marriage– or rather, business– proposals. But when all hope in love is lost, a thief breaks into your bedroom in the dead of night. He’s charming and easy on the eyes, but is your heart the only thing he’ll take?

C/W: vague mentions age gaps, but nothing too detailed or gross; see series masterlist for general warnings

A/N: Enter Elyon!! This chapter is mostly focused on introducing him and setting up the plot, but don't worry Leander is still mentioned ♡

Sunlight poured into your bedroom, illuminated the crevices of your bedroom and pried your drowsy eyes open. You reluctantly sat up and rubbed your eyes, catching a glimpse of the sun peeking out from Eridia’s horizon. You grimaced as a knock graced your ears. Staying up late and rising early was a routine at this point, but it was not often that you regretted the choices made the previous night. Whenever you would wake up after sleeping at an absurd hour, you felt tired. However, today was a bit different. Today, you felt like death. You were on the verge of collapsing. You were seated far from your vanity, but you did not need to look into a mirror to know that the bags beneath your eyes were dark and heavy.

“Come in,” you called.

On cue, Adaline swung your bedroom door open. She beelined towards your balcony window and drew the curtains, letting the daylight flood your room. A few other ladies in waiting followed her inside your chambers like little ducklings, wheeling in racks of dresses. You yawned while she put her hands on her hips.

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning,” you replied sheepishly, shrinking deeper into your sheets. It was apparent that she was eyeing the flower vase beside you. And how could she not? Leander’s gold work shimmered and shined now that the sun was out. Many things in your room had gold accents, but Adaline had seen that vase for years. It was different to say the least.

But the dreaded question never came. Instead, Adaline presented you with the usual: “Did you sleep well?”

“I suppose,” you said nonchalantly.

She sighed, “You can take a nap when you are done with the Duke of Cromwell.”

You pressed your lips together. He almost slipped your mind. Almost, that is. He was always on the back burner, a thought you did not want to acknowledge until it came back to haunt you. To remind you of your place in high society. To remind you that love was a prospect not a promise.

Your father described this meeting as a simple luncheon except for the fact that it was everything, but a simple luncheon. He was a passive man in all regards. He never arranged anything with anyone, always letting them come to him. This was the case even for the Duke of Cromwell. He personally reached out to your father unlike your other potential suitors who wrote directly to you, piquing the interest of your father. And who would be a fool to turn down a Cromwell?

The Cromwell’s were a distinguished family with a status much higher than yours— or most families in Hightown for that matter. The duke was their pride and joy, a young man that ran the most esteemed brothel in Eridia. Well, as esteemed as a brothel run by nobles for the nobles could be. Lords and ladies would come to get away from their loveless marriages. One single night full of bliss and then it was back to normal. One single night and the Cromwell’s were able to rake in thousands of dollars. Those nights happen every night without fail.

‘What would the duke know about love?’ you mused as the maids helped you into a dress.

One fluffed out your petticoats. Another cinched your waist with a corset. Your father probably had the dress tailored for today. You had never seen this dress before. Moreover, the maids typically asked you what you wanted to wear, letting you pick from the racks they wheeled into your room that day. Suppose they wanted to give you the illusion of choice. You could not blame them though. Your father’s words were absolute despite them being your ladies in waiting. You held your arms out as Adaline ushered the sleeves up your shoulders. She then spun you around, allowing you to face your reflection in the vanity mirror.

The dress was a lovely royal blue color with delicate black lace trimming around the neckline, but when Adaline collapsed a silver necklace adorned with sapphires around your neck, it was not as lovely as you thought. Beautiful as your ensemble was, you could not help but frown. You were a walking Cromwell crest. The duke was the one that proposed this meeting yet it seemed like you were the one trying to win him over. Or rather, your family were the ones trying to win him over.

From a business standpoint, having a relationship with the Cromwell’s was fruitful. The pros outweighed the cons. Well, technically, there was only one con— you and your feelings. Other than that, there was truly nothing to lose for both families. Only things to gain.

Your family, the Sciarra’s, were tycoons of the Eridian perfume industry. The Cromwell’s brothel was located by the outskirts of the Amaryllis District which was glazed with sweet, floral fragrances. You did not need to know the specifics of whatever your father and the duke talked about in order to know that a union would benefit both parties. You were certain the Sciarra’s would take a slice of the Cromwell’s pie all while their profits would skyrocket as they would have access to the finest artisan perfume in Eridia for dirt cheap. Or perhaps access to your factories?

Adaline put a hand over your eyes, spraying a touch of perfume behind your ears. You resigned yourself to today’s schedule when she tilted your chin downward, forcing you to look your reflections in the eyes, and just like that, you were ready for your outing with the duke.

“You look lovely, my lady.”

“All thanks to you.”

She smiled and took your hand, “You will do just fine.”

You squeezed her hand, allowing her to guide you towards the door and down the hallways of your estate like a child on her first day of school. Not a single word was exchanged between you and your maid as you waltzed your way towards the foyer. You bit your bottom lip.

Though it was the crack of dawn, it was still too quiet for your liking. You had so many things to say, so many thoughts to voice, but none of them came out. What was Adaline supposed to do if you cried your eyes out and threw a tantrum, demanding that you marry for true love even though you hardly left your manor to meet– let alone love– anyone? Console you with lies? Tell you it will be alright? Tell you that the one for you is out there somewhere? There was nothing she could do for you. She was your servant and you were her lady. Lady… Lady Cromwell… you shuddered at the thought. It was too soon to be thinking about such things. Even if they were inevitable.

Adaline held your hand a little tighter as you descended the grand staircase that led to the foyer and the front entrance of the Sciarra estate. At the bottom of the steps, there stood a man with the most peculiar pair of eyes you had ever seen. His irises were a piercing electric blue, but his sclera were pitch black. Your breath hitched as he smirked at you.

“Forgive me, your grace, but I thought you were going to wait outside,” Adaline quipped, letting go of your hand.

He chuckled and extended his hand towards you. “I realized that it would be improper to let a lady be escorted by a maid while I twiddle my thumbs in a carriage. First impressions are important, mind you.”

You took his hand without a second thought, allowing him to press a chaste kiss on your knuckles, searing your skin hot with his lips. Albeit, it did not leave the same impression as the kiss Leand– you frowned.

“Then, I will leave you to it.” Adaline turned to you and brushed off the sides of your sleeves, “Take care, my lady.”

Her back was facing you before you could reply and bid her farewell yourself. You turned your attention back to the duke.

“Shall we get the formal introductions out of the way?” he asked.

“We shall.”

“Then, ladies first.”

“Greetings. I am Lady (y/n) of the Sciarra household in the East of Hightown. Delighted to make your acquaintance,” you said with a curt curtsy.

He returned the gesture with a bow, “And I am Duke Elyon of the Cromwell household in the Southwest of Hightown. The pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled. He smiled. Then, you both walked outside to the carriage in silence. Your footsteps were loud and echoed throughout the front yard. The heels of his boots clicked and clacked against the cobblestone. As you got closer to the carriage, the coachman hopped off the driver’s seat and opened the door for you both as you. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, a hand over his heart like a knight swearing an oath. His head was perpendicular to the ground.

Elyon hummed, almost as if he acknowledged the coachman’s bow and climbed in first. He then turned around and then held a hand out to you. You gathered your skirts in one hand and took his with the other. He squeezed your hand as he pulled you to your seat.

You smoothed your petticoats out while the carriage shook slightly as the coachman climbed onto the driver’s seat. With the crack of a whip, the horses started trotting. You folded your hands together, feeling his stare on you. Or perhaps he was not staring. The carriage was small. He was seated across from you. His only options were to look out the window or straight at you. You opted for the former, leaning against the window. You held back a sigh as you watched your estate get smaller and smaller in the distance. You hardly lived a life and now you were doomed to marry a man you hardly knew. Your eyes flickered to Elyon.

To your surprise, he was not staring at all. His eyes were closed. His lashes were long, brushing his cheeks ever so slightly. His hair was as long and dark as night with the tips dyed a chestnut brown. He wore a single silver earring on his right ear, a stark contrast to the rest of his royal blue and black outfit. He sported a suit-like ensemble though the dress shirt was a little odd. It was left open around his collarbone and there were two ribbon chokers around his neck. He also donned a cloak with an enormous amount of fur trimming. Your brows are knitted together. It was summer. Eridian summers were sweltering and unforgiving. Even the early mornings were hot. You pursed your lips and looked down at your sumptuous dress. No matter. Aristocrats adored flamboyance one way or another.

You turned your head back to the window. Your fingers found their way onto the black lace of your dress and ran their way across the dainty fabric’s bumps and grooves in a smooth back and forth motion.

“You should rest, my lady. It will be a while before we reach our destination,” Elyon said as you jolted up from your seat.

“Is your manor really that far from here?”

“No it is not. It is only a thirty minute carriage ride, but we are taking a detour.”

“What for?”

His eyes fluttered open. His black sclera held the carriage atmosphere with an iron grip. He crossed his arms.

“Have you not heard?”

“Heard what?”

He chuckled, “There is a thief running around Hightown as of late. The city police have been pursuing him, but to no avail. All anyone knows is that he only steals from manors and caravans like this one. Your neighbor, the Earl of Sinclair, was his most recent victim. He was robbed last night. I’m not sure of the details, but my social circles have been saying all that he lost was a few magical artifacts in his antique collection.”

You blinked. That must have been Leander. The one who said he was not looking for trouble…

“So we are taking a detour to avoid this thief?” you asked, trying not to let your voice waver.

“Yes.”

“But would a thief really strike in broad daylight?”

He chuckled again, “Who knows? It is better to be safe than sorry, no?”

“...You have a point.”

Elyon closed his eyes again as the conversation ceased. However, unlike the silence that occurred during your walk to the carriage, this one was comfortable. It felt natural. Less awkward. A little more peaceful.

You would like to join him and rest your eyes but you were ruminating again. Leander. Leander. Leander. You shifted in your seat. What to do? Turn him in? He was a thief. One that targeted aristocrats. He stole from your neighbor and possibly many other families. But… Elyon never mentioned anything gruesome. So was it safe to assume that Leander was only a chivalrous thief with no blood on his hands? You dared not to press Elyon for more details. The last thing you wanted was to be a criminal’s accomplice. You could already imagine the headlines already: Lady Sciarra Aids the Hightown Phantom Thief’s Great Escape and is Now on the Run! The Sciarra Family Name is Now Forever Tarnished! Oh the Tragedy!

“My lady?”

“Yes?” your voice cracked.

“Is this carriage not to your liking?”

“Not all, your grace.”

“I see. Forgive me then. You seemed rather skittish,” Elyon said, eyes fluttering open once more. A stern expression crossed his face.

“Nerves, I suppose.” You tried your best to make your smile reach your eyes.

“I do not bite, Lady Sciarra.”

“How reassuring.”

“But it is true.”

“That it is.”

“I am not looking to trouble you, my lady.”

Your posture stiffened. Did all the men in Eridia say that whenever someone appeared to be distressed? Or was it your cursed luck? First Leander. Now Elyon.

“I am not troubled by you, your grace.”

He sighed, “This outing is not a marriage proposal if that is what you are concerned about.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Were you that obvious? Your brows furrowed. No, you were thinking about Leander just now. Not that Elyon would know. Still… for someone so far off the mark, he hit the nail on the head.

“Call it an educated guess. Like I said, you seemed rather skittish around me.”

“I apol–”

Elyon held a hand up. “I am not offended, my lady. Your feelings are reasonable. I made my debut into society nine years ago. Ten years in a couple of months. Yours was fairly recent if my memory serves correctly and I am no manther. So please rest assured– I have no intention of marrying you.”

You opened then closed your mouth. You did not even know his age prior to this conversation. Your father kept every bit of information about Elyon away from you aside from his name and title. The rumors about the Duke of Cromwell spoke for themselves, but none of them ever described him as the type of man who would jump to conclusions so quickly. Admittedly, the conclusion he presented before you was rational. Sensible, even. If it were not for the fact that your mind was plagued with thoughts about your encounter with a certain thief instead of the situation at hand, Elyon would be right. You were concerned about marriage. And if you knew he was almost a decade older than you, perhaps you would be alarmed too.

“So this outing is…?”

“A date,” he said.

“Your grace! You just said you had no intention of marrying me!”

“I do not, but I have a contract to uphold.”

You rested your head in your palms, “My father put you up to this, did he not?”

“Your father and my father.”

“Are you not the Duke of Cromwell?”

“I am more or less the Acting Duke of Cromwell. I may handle affairs and such, but my father is still the Duke of Cromwell on paper until he passes.”

“So this contract…”

Elyon tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, “You seem well-educated. Would you like to take a gander?”

Your breath hitched. You were indeed educated and you did have a guess, but your blood boiled. He raised a brow in turn as you exhaled slowly.

“Your brothel and my family’s perfume. A union between us would profit both parties in terms of business as well as smooth out any legal proceedings with this joint operation. ”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“But that is assuming we are to wed, your grace. You expressed no desire in doing so, but if that is the case, then what were the conditions our fathers proposed?”

A wry laugh slipped through his lips as he leaned against his cushioned seat. “I initially reached out to the Earl of Sciarra about business proceedings between my brothel and the Sciarra’s perfumery. There was no marriage in the first few versions of our business contract. That is… until my father suggested a union. From there, my contract was profusely revised by our fathers. ”

You pursed your lips. “Would it not be beneficial to proceed with the original deal and use your status as a bachelor for another contract?”

“Beneficial, yes. However, I have been using that excuse for years now. I have not courted since my beautillion ball. My father meddled with my affairs in order to find me a bride. I suppose he grew weary of my ‘schemes’ while your father grew tired of you turning down every suitor that came your way,” Elyon said with a strained grin. You stared at his forehead. A vein could pop at any moment.

“Perhaps he wants you to find something else to love aside from money,” you jested, ignoring that last bit about you.

“So I’ve been told.”

“...Do you believe in love, your grace?”

“Pardon?”

“Love. Like true love. Courting someone because you love them. Marrying someone because you love them.”

He gave you a sideways glance, “I suppose I could believe in it. Like how children believe in Saint Nicholas.”

A pout formed on your lips as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were a fool. Of course, he did not believe in such things. Love was only reserved for the storybooks.

“If you were wondering about the reason I have stopped courting, all you have to do is be direct, my lady.”

Elyon was right, but also a tad bit off the mark yet again. You assumed that love was the reason he did not court after his debut like the hopeless romantic you were, but you were more so curious if there was someone out there who was just like you, someone who believed in fairytales and fantasy novels. Not in some measly piece of gossip.

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not want to pry,” you replied coolly. Nonchalantly.

“It is quite alright. I have nothing to be ashamed of. To put it simply, I am bored.”

“Bored?”

“Yes, bored, my lady.”

“Bored of what?”

“Why, courting, of course.”

You blinked. He was beaming. Glowing, even. Almost as if he believed his answer would earn him a gold star. You opened your mouth, but Elyon beat you to it.

“I am kidding, my lady.”

“I am in tears,” you muttered.

“Humor me a little, Lady Sciarra.”

You hummed in response, allowing a silence to make itself known. The chirps and whistles of birds were audible from inside the carriage now that your shallow heart-to-heart with Elyon came to an end. You stared out at the window, catching a glimpse of the cityscape and the ashy blue sky. Was the Cromwell estate near the metropolitan area?

“Do you ever feel like courtship only ever demands pieces of you, but not all of you?” he mused, breaking into your brief moment of solitude.

“I would not know, your grace. This is my first time courting.”

The carriage halted. You planted your heels onto the floor, bracing yourself should you fall. A faint click rang through your ears. You turned your head towards the carriage door and the coachman who stood by the entrance, bowing with a hand over his heart. Elyon rose from his seat and hopped off the carriage.

“Well, perhaps after today, you will go on many more outings and come to know what I mean when I say that,” he said with an outstretched hand.

“I will be the judge of that,” you quipped as you took his hand, allowing him to help you step off the carriage.

Once your shoes hit the pavement, you were quick to let go of his hand and turned your attention to smoothing out any wrinkles on your skirt.

“I thought we were going to your estate.”

“Changes of plans,” Elyon shrugged, “Unless… you want to visit my estate?”

You shook your head.

“I thought so. I would like to believe that almost anyone would prefer a bustling town plaza than a manor with empty halls.”

“You may be right, your grace.”

This time, your smile reached your eyes without you making any attempts to do so. It had been a while since you went downtown. You hardly had any time for leisure after your debutante. In fact, you hardly left your bedroom– let alone your estate. You paused. Ah, but Elyon was here with you. Bookstores were automatically crossed off your to-do list.

“Have you ever been to the Amaryllis District, Lady Sciarra?”

“This is the Amaryllis District?”

You took a deep breath, letting the strong floral fragrances fill your nostrils. Of course. There were only two places in Eridia that smelled this pungent– the Sciarra perfumeries and the Amaryllis District. You scanned your surroundings. You never ventured to this part of Hightown. This district belonged to the “cleaner” side of the river, but it was also too close to Lowtown for your father’s comfort. But despite his warnings, the arts district was not too shabby. It was colorful and lively as any other plaza in Hightown if not more. The only difference was the pink curtains and… your eyes fell on a noticeboard by a building you assumed to be a brothel.

There were many flyers tacked onto the weathered wood, but there was one that stuck out to you in particular. It had a half-body portrait of a man drawn on it. A man with deep, emerald eyes and a dark trench coat. A scar ran down from his cheek to his crossed arms. You squinted. His nose was a bit crooked, but you were certain that was Leander. Something was not right. Elyon said that the authorities could not find the thief yet there were posters of him in the Amaryllis District. You brought a hand under your chin.

“Something on your mind?”

You flinched and Elyon’s eyes widened.

“No,” you said, “Not at all.”

“Come, then. Let us go. I have a reservation at one of the restaurants here. Best not to keep the staff waiting.”

You watched as Elyon’s walk away from the carriage. You turned around to see the coachman crack his whip and the horses trot off. The duke was several paces ahead of you at this point, but your gaze still lingered on that poster. You glanced at Elyon’s figure which became increasingly smaller the more you stared at him then you glanced back at the poster once more. You looked left then you looked right. Then, you tiptoed towards the noticeboard and tore Leander’s portrait off with a clean rip.

You inhaled sharply, looking over your shoulder. Everyone around you seemed to be preoccupied with something or someone. You nimbly tucked the paper into the pockets of your skirt and made haste to catch up with Elyon.

‘You are not an accomplice,’ you chided to yourself, ‘He will clear it up with you this evening as promised and all will be well.’

#touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved leander #touchstarved elyon #leander x reader #elyon x reader #series:kinstugi

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howlingday · 1 year ago

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But How Could He...?

Adrian: Hello, Uncle Jaune. I'm home.

Jaune: As much as I want to say I'm not your uncle, I am. But this is no longer your home.

Adrian: Oh, right. You have a new favorite student. So where is this silver-eyed warrior you've been training?

Jaune: Where they are is none of your business. Leave. Now.

Adrian: So, that's how it's going to be?

Jaune: That's how it has to be.

Adrian: ...

Jaune: ...

With a mighty roar, Adrian charges forward, swinging his blade wide. Jaune caught the blade with his shield, but wasn't prepared for Adrian's foot smashing into his abdomen. As he reeled, Adrian stabbed, sliced, and bashed with blade and pommel, forcing Jaune to dodge, block, and parry as best he could. Soon Jaune was caught in Adrian's grip and thrown through the wall in the house he once called home. Adrian stalking forward, dark as a shadow.

Adrian: I spent the last ten years in prison because YOU were too weak!

Jaune: Listening to your family is never a weakness!

Adrian: You knew I was the supposed to be the next greatest huntsman! The hero! But when Ruby turned me away, what did you do?! NOTHING!

Jaune: You weren't meant to be the hero! That was not my fault!

Adrian: NOT YOUR FAULT?! (Throws photos) WHO FILLED MY HEAD WITH DREAMS?! (Tosses dishes) WHO TAUGHT ME TO TRAIN UNTIL MY BONES CRACKED?! (Lifts case) WHO DARED DENY ME MY DESTINY?! (Launches entire weapons case and shelves)

Jaune: (Blocks weapons, Charges through, Shoves Adrian) It was never my decision to make!

Adrian: (Grabs Crescent Rose from the wall, Smiles) It is now.

Jaune rushed forward again, but was sent to the back foot as Adrian twirled the scarlet scythe expertly around, just as Ruby taught him. The irony was not lost on him as Adrian made short work of both his former home and the distance between them. Jaune caught the scythe in the wall with his shield. Adrian struggled in vain to free himself, pinned between the handle and his uncle.

Adrian: Give! Me! The relic!

Jaune: You'll have to kill me!

Adrian managed to free himself and the scythe with a kick and a shove. As he swung at Jaune, he retaliated and cut through the handle. The last memento Jaune had from his best friend. As he gazed upon the remnants of his friend, he swore he saw rose petals dance over them.

Adrian didn't leave him much time to reminisce. Swiftly disarming Jaune, the battle shifted to hand-to-hand as punches, kicks, grabs, throws were tossed in the remains of Jaune's kitchen before the older fighter was thrown out of his house. Adrian leapt upon him, hoping to pelt his uncle as much as the rain was doing that night. Jaune managed to block the hits and free himself to his feet. As the door slammed shut from the wind, Jaune grabbed hold of Adrian, amd he rushed to make his way back inside, using Adrian as a battering ram. However, Adrian swiftly turned and caught Jaune instead, using him to bash his way through the door until it eventually caved and skidded across the kitchen floor.

Jaune rolled inside, disoriented from the battle. He managed to grab hold of his sword, but found his shield of reach. His shield was in Adrian's hands. Swiftly disarmed, Jaune's aura took blow after blow from his enraged nephew.

Adrian: ALL I EVER DID, I DID TO MAKE YOU PROUD! TELL ME HOW PROUD YOU ARE, UNCLE! TELL ME! TELL ME!

With a final slash that drew blood, Jaune rolled into his bedroom. In front of the closet. In front of the relic's resting place. With wheezing gasps, he spoke to his nephew. With tears in his eyes, he spoke to Adrian.

Jaune: I... I've always... I've always been proud of you, Adrian. Ever since I first saw you, I've... I've always been proud... And it was my pride... that led you down this road. And I... I was too blind to see who you were becoming. What you were becoming. And I... I'm sorry...

Adrian stood there, looking down at the mentor, the father figure that was his uncle. He held many regrets in his life, chief among them was what led to this moment. His love and his pride left him bloodied and crying on the floor. Adrian tossed aside the sword, and pressed his uncle's shield against his throat.

Adrian: I don't want your apologies. I want my relic!

As Adrian pressed, he peered into the closet and found it was empty!

Adrian: The relic! WHERE IS IT?!

Jaune: Th-The silver-eyed warrior has already left with the relic! They're probably halfway across Remnant by now! Y-You'll never see it again! N-Never...

With the last of his strength, Jaune's vision blacked out. Slipping from this world. Perhaps, finally, for the last time...

???: HEY!

#rwby #kung fu panda #jaune arc #adrian cotta arc

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umaficwriter · 4 months ago

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“You know, I don’t remember ever opting to be the odd man out,” bitterly she declares. Her back to him as she goes through his books.

The library reverberating the sounds of the French Quarter down below.

Elijah didn’t want to say he was the one who did so.

Katherine turned around slowly, her movements somehow calculated, so to now go out off of script. The memories and hurting still too fresh not to have every syllable rehearsed.

“I heard you go for your brother’s leftover now, but haven’t you always?” Elijah felt the venom dripping from her tongue. He had hurt her and she was striking back.

Katherine wouldn’t only let him cop out from their pro missed seis in the dark, vulnerable and truthful to an extent somebody has yet to witness coming from her.

“Now you’re only aiming to cruelty, Katerina,” Elijah tried his hands in his trousers’ pockets, not moving from his spot across from her, on the other side of his study.

She scoffed, her hair moving from one shoulder to the other, the ringlets shone with the sunlight signalizing the twilight.

She clicked her tongue “guess I’ve founded the club she heard oh so great things about,” her feet moving sideways, the long fingers adorned of well-manicured nails touching the end he of his table, as to testing its quality.

“After all, she worked for me when we were together, before you leave me in order to…”

She wasn’t going to say it.

“Maybe she wanted to know you better after we-“

“You’re not being fair-“ he interrupts her.

Half laughing, mockingly no less, she strides the few steps that separate them both, invading his personal space, she stares into his brown eyes.

“You don’t deserve fairness, Elijah,” her hand touching his suited chest “you threw that away when you left me in Mystic Falls,”

He looked sideways.

“You didn’t leave me any choice,”

“And how’s that, hm?” She questioned chin up, eyes shining with something he couldn’t pinpoint. “You threw our second chance away, like it was nothing!” Her fists now in balls holding his jacket. “You didn’t even spare me a glance, gave me the choice of following you!”

Pushing him way, Katherine turned around taking a. Deep breath. She willed herself not to cry.

Elijah still said nothing. He never considered she’d have.

Regret started growling into his chest like vice. The fire of chagrin burning like the sun, flooding his heart and mind as what ifs swirled behind his eyelids at every blink.

“I never-“ he started tentatively “you never left my chest, Katerina”

Katherine sneered blinking rapidly and turning around to face the Original again.

“You left me, instead, right? How dare you even consider it romantic or noble?” Pointing a finger in his direction she continued “you left me standing safe and sound, so you say, but you broke me!” Her voice louder now.

He shook his head facing the hardwood before saying himself “you think you never did just that to me?!”

Disbelief washed her features, how dare he?

Nodding, the fake smile contoured her next words “maybe we both drew blood Elijah, but you can’t say those cuts were remotely equal, because they weren’t,”

“I tried to save you, back then, but you ran!” Defending himself he approached her but Katherine stepped back.

“You’re a coward!” Accused “never even considered you should inform me of things instead of assuming you already knew my opinion,”

“And how on watt was I supposed to know when you Dan from me at every chance, Katerina?” He questioned his hands coming to comb his hair back, pulling at the edges. “If at every chance I got to catch you, you ran further?”

“I was afraid of you!” She confessed and that made me pause in mid stride.

He looked at her astonished, it took him an instant to completely process what she’d just said.

“You killed them…” the feminine whisper broke him as soon as he connected the dots.

Katerina thought he’d been the one who killed her entkre family back in 1492.

The realization broke something inside of him. For all their almost encounters and after that their brief plenitude, had she suspected he had been the one to murder her relatives? If so, how had she bared to even look in his face?

“I could never…” he professed almost begging her to believe him.

Her eyes sought his as if to be sure he spoke the truth.

“I could never…” he repeated and slowly approached her form. Fingers touching her shoulders first, sliding down her arms, pulling her to him.

His words were disavowal go all her accusations.

He would never love another.

He would never wrong her purposely.

He could never.

#this is not a fic just some Drabble #kalijah #katherine pierce #elijah mikaelson #katerina petrova #the vampire diaries #tvd #katherine x elijah #nina dobrev #kalijah au #daniel gillies

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spencerberkeley · 5 months ago

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DON'T WORRY, BE HAPPY:

Look, you know what happens if you don't spice up the dash. People die. Mistral's doesn't get enough love so...let's do this to it I guess idk. Features Spencer, Cassie, Nora, a bunch of NPCs and a vaguely referenced dude. Date: Evening of 21/8/24. Warnings: Kate up to her usual ish.

“I hate French food so fucking much. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Laurent recommended the place, and I said I’d—”

The initial disgust present on Cassandra’s face dissipated in an instant, instead replaced by amusement, and all he could do was grimace in annoyance that he had somehow ended up calling her his best friend. There was no point finishing what he was about to say. Slowly, she lifted her hand from the thankfully (in her humble opinion) foodless table, giving him a dramatic thumbs-up.

“Don’t start this shit again.”

“Ooh friend!” The blonde cooed loudly.

Too late.

“French friend!”

This time it was Nora who chimed in, and he shot her a look that very much said ‘traitor.’

The reference earned a few sniggers from the others gathered around the table—Jessica and Llewellyn, in particular—and worse, drew the attention of several onlookers. Spencer didn’t care enough to offer them any attempt at an apology for bringing literal farm animals to dinner, but tried to hush the pair of idiot blondes for his own sake.

They were a party of eight and he regretted almost every choice intensely. Cassandra and his former girlfriend, Jessica Mirzoyan, sat opposite, smirking like school girls at his expense. His two sisters flanked her new partner, his cousin, Llewellyn, to his left. Camilla’s husband, Philip, and his childhood friend, Jack, were engaged in their own conversation, entirely separate from the mess at the table, to his right. They were down two, though. Jasper and his new girlfriend—or old, if they were going to get technical about it, he supposed—were also supposed to be in attendance, but given her apparent reticence sparking concern during their vacation earlier in the month, Spencer suspected it was for the best that they weren’t being subject to whatever the fuck this was.

“You know when you lecture me about being too busy with work to socialise with you?” Spencer began, pointing a finger at Cassandra accusatorily. “Maybe it’s because you’re shit.”

“I’m actually a blessing, but okay.”

“A blessing,” Nora repeated for emphasis, taking a very ladylike sip of her champagne. “Speaking of blessings, though, where is Alexis? You better not have left her at home with the kids so you can get drunk on a school night…”

“Nah, some shit came up with Gaius. Mum is babysitting.”

“Mine, too,” Camilla added.

“She’s watching all of them?! You realise dad has the larger inheritance, right? This better not be some morbid tactic to send the woman to an early grave…”

The conversation was light-hearted, and he appreciated it given the weight his day had landed squarely on his shoulders. A meeting with Elizabeth Acton had left him reeling so spectacularly, Spencer had almost cancelled last minute so he could go home and try to figure out what the fuck he was going to do. As much as he pretended the people surrounding him were nothing more than irritants, however, the reality was that in that moment, he was more grateful for the distraction than they could begin to understand. Particularly when he was no longer sure that this could be as regular an occurrence as he’d like going forward.

Eventually, the food was delivered by a very proud looking waiter. Most displeased was he, upon returning to check on their progress, to see Cassie pushing hers around the plate like a petulant toddler who would’ve been better suited to chicken nuggets.

It was the first time everyone had been relatively quiet, though; a contrast to the otherwise bustling restaurant around them.

Until the ambience was disturbed by a shrill shriek coming from outside.

Spencer checked his Rolex. 19:39.

In typical British fashion, everyone’s eyebrows pulled into a frown, though none commented aloud. It was more an annoyance—how dare somebody mildly inconvenience their evening with such unbecoming behaviour—as opposed to concern for what may have caused the outburst. The only one seated at their table that seemed to be worried about what might be happening outside of their little bubble was Nora, typically enough, and she attempted to steal a glance through the window they were seated beside.

“It’s South Ken, Nora. Somebody was probably spotted wearing last season’s Chanel,” Jack brushed it off, though not without attempting to get a look, himself.

Spencer almost huffed out a laugh at that, but it died in his throat before it ever reached the others.

Suddenly, something just…didn’t feel right.

A few people around them had got up from their tables with similar intent to be nosy; perhaps, when they noticed the normal evening crowds making their way down the street begin to disperse in what was almost certainly not a reaction to somebody’s poor fashion choices.

It wasn’t his first time being caught up in a situation like this, but given how he reacted, one could’ve been fooled into thinking so.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds between the first scream and the sound of gunshots ripping through the comfortable normality of Kensington and Chelsea. The onslaught was so loud it couldn’t have been anywhere else but right outside, and as much was confirmed as the sounds of nearby windows shattering intermittently pierced the panicked screams of the diners.

Champagne and fois gras was sent flying as people sought cover beneath their tables. Threw them aside in an attempt to get away from the room and the stray bullets finding the interior, entirely. Except it didn’t much seem like they were strays. It seemed like someone was aiming them directly at the fucking restaurant.

Pick a table by the window, Laurent had said… It’ll be fun, he’d said…

Spencer reflexively grabbed for Nora, attempting to drag her beneath the table to take cover, but she was attempting her own rescue on Cassie, and she was out of his grip before he ever truly had it. Philip was trying to pull his wife to safety, but the continuous shots in their direction made it hard to tell where was safe, and where was directly in the fucking firing line.

What were they supposed to do? Where were they supposed to go?

Glancing around for something they could all duck behind, every single sense heightened by the immediate shot of adrenaline, he took note that a woman a table over had clearly been struck. Though he could see her moving, the blood pooling around her seemed so swift in its escape, he probably would’ve wondered if her demise was an inevitability had he not been so focused on trying to help the people he loved avoid a similar fate.

Everything was a blur, eerily reminiscent of another time he’d been showered in glass at the hands of murderers.

Why here? Why now?

A Frenchman lying limp on the blood-stained pavement outside answered both of those questions, but nobody present beneath the table could’ve known that.

It felt like an eternity of ragged breathing and thumping hearts until it finally stopped.

The screaming didn’t, though. Nor did the wails of pain. Grief, in some cases, he didn’t doubt.

“What the fuck—” Jessica, always the calm and collected one, was utterly betrayed by the wavering in her voice. Spencer was surprised she could string a sentence together at all.

“What’s happening? Is everyone all right?” Camilla, then.

Cassie was practically catatonic, and he realised quickly, this was not her first encounter with a firing squad. It seemed she was even less equipped to deal with it than he felt. Maybe in some cases, experience wasn’t always such a good teacher…

“I think I’m bleeding,” Nora said shakily.

Spencer’s head shot up immediately in spite of the fact everyone else was too scared—rightfully so—to stray from their hiding spots. What was to say whoever had done this wasn’t just fucking reloading? What if this wasn’t really over as quickly as they thought it was?

“What do you mean? Where?”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“It’s just—” His sister’s attempt at an explanation was cut off as she gasped out in pain, Llewellyn attempting to place pressure on the wound. “It’s just my arm. I think it hit my arm.”

“We need to get out of here. Is everyone else good?”

“There’s blood on me, too, but I think I’m—” Philip started, his slicked-back hair dishevelled for perhaps the first time in his existence, before he was looking right at Spencer. “It’s not mine. Spencer, you’re bleeding.”

What?

Maybe it had been a mistake to assume he felt so detached from that moment because of stress, or anxiety, or pure fight-or-flight reflexes. In fact, he hadn’t felt a fucking thing until he’d looked down at himself, the faces of the others around him paling. It didn’t require too much searching when ‘you’re bleeding’ suddenly felt like the biggest understatement in the world. Evidently, when he’d jumped to his feet in an attempt to grab for his sister, he’d exposed himself to the window.

He hadn’t felt a fucking thing then but he sure did now.

The blood was soaking into his dress shirt at a terrifying speed, and he was suddenly very aware of an intense pain growing just beneath his ribcage. Oh, fuck.

One hand reached for his upper abdomen, another for the table.

One missed and he found himself falling to the ground, body suddenly weak as though it took seeing it with his own eyes for his brain to fucking register what was happening.

It was enough to break Cassie out of her trance, though.

Might’ve laughed at her crawling toward him hurriedly on all fours like something out of a horror movie if he hadn’t felt himself starting to fade a moment later.

Maybe he hated French food now, too.

And maybe, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about Elizabeth propping him up to be the next Leader of the Conservative Party if he was fucking dead.

#self para

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grimweaver · 2 years ago

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"Flowers for Cousland" ("Meravas" 4x2) FULL IMAGE AT DA

Excerpt from "As You Wish" P2:

(...) “You are in just about every way a treasure beyond anyone’s deserving,” said Sten. “You have gone to such great lengths for others–not just myself and your other companions, but complete strangers– and yet I don’t recall you ever even hinting at a want for some gain on your end. Your every decision has been guided by wisdom and a true moral compass, instead of an insatiable appetite for power, titles, and material rewards.”

Aithne was thrilled to tears, and almost didn’t believe she was hearing him say all of this. She clutched the fabric around her chest and tried to work out the intense swelling in her throat with hot, near-dry swallowing.

“That terrible thing I had done to that family can never be undone," Sten continued. "However, I know that if I perish at any point during this quest–even before I see you to the slaying of the Archdemon– I will die with my honor fully restored. For one cannot achieve a higher honor than that which comes from fighting by your side. And, though I will likely never see the shores of Par Vollen again, I will always feel at home in Ferelden if you will keep me by your side and… allow me to serve you in any way you wish. You are more than just the Warden that I vowed to serve. You complete the part of me I used to believe was lost forever. You haven’t just given me purpose… you are my purpose. You are my strength… and my soul. It is my duty and my want to ensure all of your needs are met... all of them. Do you understand what I am trying to say to you?”

“Y-yes... I think so. B... but I'm--what'cha-call-it-- bas. I'm not qunari. I didn't think that you would... feel that way, or could lawfully... render yourself up like that to someone such as myself."

"You are basalit-an, a non-qunari worthy of honor," Sten corrected. There was a brief pause, but only to draw in a long breath. “I have gone to the Qun countless times to make sense of feelings inspired by your beauty– what is within and what is on the surface– and know what to do with them. At first, it was my belief that the Qun called for restraint… but now I know that the Qun demands that I– with the unbearable want I am not supposed to nurture– profess my will to submit myself completely to you-- the only one in this country proven to have immeasurable worth."

"Maker-still-my-heart!" Aithne cried into her hands. "Saying that I'm overjoyed is an understatement! I’ve been wanting to tell you something along those lines…I… I’ve tried to think of how– dreaming many nights of ways– to tell you…”

“I believe you expressed yourself quite well last night,” Sten said with the faintest, almost unnoticeable smirk. "It was all I needed to hear to eliminate even a shred of doubt that this is a wise choice. It was what I had longed for you say for almost as long as I have known you– but the Qun teaches that we're to never embrace words spoken from the inebriated as truth."

“You mean that wasn’t a dream? I really said all of those things, and–??” As if she wasn’t shaky and feverish enough, embarrassment had increased it all by a tenfold. “I said a lot that I shouldn’t have– about the Joining, anyway. There are no regrets about being honest with you about how I felt, but the way I behaved… I am so sorry for any discomfort or humiliation it might have caused you–”

“I am not demanding an apology from you. I want only an answer to this question– this time from a mind that is clear of distorting influences, so that nothing stands in the way anymore...” Sten removed one of the hair ties from his braided locks and used it to bind the floral arrangement together, then brought them up to the level of Aithne’s eyes, gesturing for her to take them, and asked her "What is your wish, Kadan?"

Aithne drew in a shivery, tear-dampened breath as her smile widened. The many words that came to mind hung in her throat, arid and lumpy. It felt as though every breath she drew in was pulling fire into her chest, and her entire body hummed with a tingling warmth. She labored to steady her breathing, and fought the urge to jump up into his arms and kiss him right then and there, fearing it would be too much and too soon for him. Instead, she–in a slow and sensuous way– clutched Sten’s arm with her left hand, while she bent her head down to breathe in the fragrance of the flowers. Sten’s facial expression hardly changed, but hot waves of gratefulness and pleasure roared through every part of his body, this time with a power that stole away half of the strength in his legs. Aithne, feeling the echoes in his arm of his whole body trembling, smiled with the satisfaction of having this affect on him. “We’ll first get started on those bandages, because that cannot be ignored for anything,” Aithne purred, as she took the bouquet from Sten’s hand. “Then… when that is finished… I will answer that question. ”

“As you wish,” Sten replied, widening his grin. Without uttering another word that might hinder what was set in motion, he picked up the lantern with the hand of his free arm and followed Aithne’s lead into her tent.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age romance #qunari #stenoftheberesaad #f yeah qunari #dragon age romances

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skepticalkoi-catastrophe · 2 years ago

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𝚆𝚊𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

Pairing: Reaper!OC Crimsyn x Nephilim!OC Jaesyn

Summary: High school graduates Crimsyn and Jaesyn prepare to spend the next four years of college together when strange goings on start occurring on and off campus. Jaesyn keeps having nightmares of Hellfire and Crimsyn can't get her supposed dead mother's voice out of her head. Nothing a little investigation and summoning circles can't fix.

Trope: Frenemies, Friends to Best friends, Best friends to Lovers, Devine Paring, Prophesized Relationship, Monster au, College au, High School au flashbacks.

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️: Each warning will be tagged at the top of each post. Parental abandonment, mentions of devil worship, infertility, self-harm, manipulation, physical + mental abuse, body shaming, body dysmorphia, bullying, detailed blood + gore, body horror, mentions of depression/anxiety/suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, absence of parents, character deaths (Major + Minor).

Status: ongoing

Taglist: OPEN! COME ONE COME ALL!

Updates: Every 4 weeks

Word Count : 1,427

Chapter 1. Lavender Power Lines

Up top, the roof of Rutherford High sat a boy and girl. The gated outer boundaries of the secluded area had the occasional bird chirp or the low chatter from other students below in the athletic field.

Taking down his graduation cap, he looks up at the sky as the girl sat beside him. Minutes away their high school carrier would end, sunlight beams down onto them the same as any other day they'd come to the roof. If not share the poorly made food from the cafeteria then exchange words. Emotions.

After all, this is how they met some time ago. Last he remembers she stumbled upon him doing as he does now. Soaking in the quiet. His sense of peace in his presence; soon in hers. He inhales deeply, the faint smell of Petrichor drew him down to her level.

His hands rested behind his head while the girl stretches turning to lay on her side to face him.

"And to think you used to sit up here sulking." Crimsyn slyly chimes. "You almost hated being here as much as you hated me."

"I didn't hate you. You were persistent and stubborn and I wasn't a fan."

Crimsyn lightly shoves him. "And what of it? Somehow I made your teenage dirtbag wannabe ass worth being around."

"Unfortunately, yes. But I didn't doubt you for a second."

Clouds moved across the sky slowly. Its baby blue backdrop mingles together with the sun piercing through. Jaesyn draws in a breath, shrugging to himself.

Her soft hand rubs his shoulder.

"We still have the summer left after graduation, Jace. Both our acceptance letters from the same college came so us sticking together after the fact is foolproof."

"Yeah I know, it's just..." Jaesyn strays off. "Four years went by like it never happened Crim."

Admittedly, it was four years for hell for a lousy piece of paper but all the memories and hard work made up for it. She only regretted not becoming friends with him sooner instead of having a year and a half worth of enemies to friends moments with him.

She gets up taking his hand.

"Well, try better remembering these next four okay?"

"Careful with those boxes Jace!" Crimsyn said coldly.

Move-in day was off to a rocky start as London and Jaesyn helped unpack the last of their belongings inside their dorm room. About the size of a small studio apartment, it sat on the fourth floor overlooking the lake.

"I still can't believe this school allows coed dorms," Jaesyn spoke under his breath, shaking his head in misdoubt as he drops to his barren mattress.

Their boxes of belongings were separated via each half of the room by their initials while London let out a huff resting a duffel bag on the floor.

"I don't know 'bout y'all but I'm hungry. Pizza sounds good?"

They nod in unison.

"Great. I'll leave you two alone to tidy up."

London opens the door closing it behind her. Jaesyn lets out a groan removing his pullover hoodie. His chest is adorned in a black tank top as he retrieves the box cutter.

Crimsyn kept getting distracted by whatever she packed whether it be her stationary or her late summer into a fall wardrobe. She didn't think she was spending her next four years living with her best friend. Or moreso she didn't want to think about what would happen if he brought a girl home.

"Bleh!" She stook her tongue out not realizing she did that out loud.

He hoisted a box off the floor, assumed to be his bedding materials. Dragging the box cutter over its taped flaps he pulls out one of his old basketball jerseys and another pullover he thought he'd lost.

"Hey, those are my pj's dummy." She gets up in his face on her tippy toes reaching for it yet he yanks the clothing upward from her. Curse his long arms and tall stature.

Teasingly he smirks down at her, pushing her away by her forehead with his pointer finger easily.

"Aww, my biggest fan kept my memorabilia? How sweet, sweet-tart."

"Shut up just give it back- Woah!" Crimsyn slipped on the hardwood landing in his arms, her face in his chest as he pulled her close.

"Still clumsy, aye klutz?" He smiled, his canine teeth sharp behind his curved lips.

Crimsyn pressed her lips together not maintaining eye contact.

"I'll take that as a yes." Jaesyn lets go carrying the box to her side of the room.

She hated how much he got a kick out of teasing her. Yet she's never seen him do it to any other girl. Not even to humor the girls that did crush on him.

She grabs more boxes cutting them open. Jaesyn does find his bedding but was more concerned about where his pictures of them together were. He wasn't one to smile for the camera but Crimsyn's collection of polaroids was his only exception.

"Looking for these?" In her hand was a photo album covered in stickers. "I knew you'd forget to pack it so I did."

Loud knocks are heard as London enters with three pizza boxes. "Sorry, it took so long. Turns out I'm not the only one hungry for a few slices."

Her eyes look around in disapproval. "You two barely made a dent while I was gone."

Crimsyn found the box with their joining silverware and dishware. She'd wash them prior, handing plates to them both.

"Some of our boxes are mislabeled so the sorting took longer than we would've liked."

London takes a bite of her slice. "No no, it's fine. You've got all semester to figure it out."

Jaesyn chewed scrolling through social media, his bed made and his posters hanging over his bed. Crimsyn's side was done as well but her desk was still empty. She drank some soda brought in, trying not to think about leaving home.

"Any last words before I go?" London asks finishing her second slice. She grabs her bag off of Jaesyn's desk chair.

Crimsyn shook her head. Jaesyn cleared his throat. "I'll keep her safe London. She's in the best hands possible."

"I hope so or else I'll have you fixed, boy." Jaesyn knitted his brows together at her statement. "I'll drop by tomorrow with groceries and goodbyes. Good night you two."

Crimsyn waves her out holding back a laugh. "Night Big Sis."

Night blanketed the sky just as moonlight seeped in through the blinds. Both showered and quickly were in bed. Jaesyn ate what pizza was left while Crimsyn sat arranging her desk. Her cute ocean-theme stationery was almost complete when she swiveled in her chair getting up with the box they were stored in hand.

"You wanna help put up my fairy lights?"

"I thought you said you could do it by yourself." He mocked her using finger quotations.

"I may have been wrong about that...so if you'd be so kind," She folds her hands in her lap. "Please help me. Please?"

"Are you sure? You were doing so well earlier." He raised a brow.

"Jace, don't be a dick."

He relents, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Fine, fine. You're too short anyway."

She backhanded his chest. Jaesyn climbed and stood on her bed, hoisting the lights near the pushpins holding her posters. Crimsyn fed the line to him as he wrapped them around each one. He'd taken care not to tug too hard on them, looking back at her now and again.

It was a warm feeling he'd get sometimes. Whether his chest, ears, or cheeks, she'd set him ablaze. He couldn't let her see it, not ever. He'll take those embers to the grave if he had to. It didn't help that she'd swiped his Aeropostale t-shirt. Her itty-bitty pajama shorts add more fuel to the fire.

Wrapping the last few she plugs them in turning off the overhead light.

Warm champagne coats the room. Crimsyn climbs into bed beside him as he sits down. She yawns, laying down, Jaesyn scooching over. His chest pressed against her back, his arm draped over her waist. She felt his thumb tracing circles on of her hand.

"Go to sleep, Jace." Crimsyn shushed him. Jaesyn turned on his back, toting her closer. She was on top of him, her head resting underneath his chin. Jaesyn inhaled her scent deeply as lonely strings of smoke filtered through his teeth as he exhaled.

"G'night Crim."

If you enjoyed, please comment, like, and reblog! Dm or comment to be added to the taglist ~♡

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countessofravenclaw · 1 year ago

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¿Puede la ondulación cambiar una marea? part four

Have you ever imagined what would happen if instead of of making Ambar Sol, Sharon would have aproached her problem with more level-headedness? What if, instead of throwing her daughter's life into a curve she just fires the Valentes, in hopes that they go back to Mexico and never find out the truth? Well, it was never going to be that easy, "everything you want you can achieve" being the family motto and all the for the Valentes after all. Monica and Miguel, could easily find another job, and so they do, with another family. A family that ends up being a bit of a surprise for Luna and all her friends

“Papa.” Sharon walked into the Mansion’s living room. Her father had been on the phone and sounded very suspicious. She didn’t like secrets in her house. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” Alfredo shrugged, “One of my friends—”

Alfredo, as a man in his eighties wasn’t the most versed in technology, like for example his fancy smartphone was way too big for him. That was an important note, because he just happened to clumsily drop his phone at that very moment.

“What is that?” Sharon asked as the phone landed on the carpet, the screen facing them. The screen read that the phone had just ended a call from…

“Why does that read Luna? Are you talking to the Valentes?”

“I still don’t agree with what you did to them.” Alfredo responded.

“You’re not allowed to have any affairs with people dismissed from this house,” Sharon raised her voice.

“Why not?” Alfredo countered, “I wanted to know where they had settled, that they were doing well.”

“I don’t trust their new employers,” Sharon continued with her frosty tone, “So I don’t trust the Valentes anymore either. I don’t want to hear anyone having contact with them.”

“Icka, I sometimes do not understand you.”

“Mrs. Benson?” Rey walked into the living room after Alfredo had gone to the kitchen huffing and puffing.

“My father has found the Valentes and is in contact with them,” Sharon breathed out. “It needs to be stopped now.”

“So?” Rey fiddled with his watch.

“I don’t pay you for just standing around!” Sharon yelled at him, “We need to act now!”

“You do realize right that what you want to do is very risky and will take a while to put into effect…?”

“Well, then I suggest you start working on it,” Sharon commanded Rey, “Luna needs to be finished. The Peridas can’t protect her forever, and after this, they will regret that they even tried.”

***

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” Nina complained to Luna as they walked along the Blake hallways. “He isn’t talking to me. I can’t stand it much longer.”

“Gastón will forgive you,” Luna placed her hand on her shoulder, “You didn’t mean any harm. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Matter of time when?” Nina sniffled slightly, “I need to accept that I’ve lost him…forever. He won’t come around.”

“We need to take another trip to the land of optimism,” Luna drew an imaginary rainbow on her outstretched arm. “The competition is coming up and I have been so busy, we haven’t had a slumber party in a while.”

“I guess so,” Nina laughed lightly.

“Great!” Luna jumped up, “You are coming to mine after practice.”

“Yours?” Nina stopped on her tracks suddenly.

“Yeah,” Luna turned to look at her, “I’ll text Mom to make a batch of those cookies—What?” She had seen Nina’s face.

“I just…” She looked down, “Your place… It’s Gastón’s house.”

“So what?”

“I don’t think I should—” Nina continued, “—I mean, I don’t think I’ll be welcomed there.”

“He doesn’t need to know that you’re there,” Luna seemed quite unbothered, “We’ll be at the cellar, in my room. You won’t even know the difference.”

“I guess so.”

***

Gastón blew air out of his mouth as he stared at his computer screen. He should be making progress… In what, he wasn’t sure, but he should be doing something.

But right now, he was getting nothing done.

He stared at the screen so intently that he did not notice how the door was being opened and closed.

“Ah!” he jumped on his chair as he was being tapped on his shoulder, “Dad? What the hell, don’t you know how to knock?”

“Were you doing something that would have required a warning?” Marco raised his eyebrow at him.

“No,” Gastón shook his head, “But you might have heard of common courtesy? What are you doing here anyway, it’s not dinner yet… right?”

“No,” Marco shook his head, “I just thought you might wanna talk.”

“About what?” Gastón turned his chair around as he watched his dad sit down on his bed.

“You tell me.”

“I literally have no idea.” Gastón answered. Mom was a master at reading people, but Dad was pretty good at it too. He hadn’t ever been the best at getting anything past them.

“You sure about that?” His dad crossed his arms, looking at him pretty unconvinced. “Because you have seemed pretty upset the past couple of weeks.”

“I have?”

“You don’t notice yourself that you slur your Ds?” Marco looked at Gastón, “You do that when you are angry or sad—ever since you have learned to talk.”

“And we’re nitpicking the accent now?” Gastón rolled his eyes slightly. “Well, I’m happy that me getting in trouble in English class is working for you.”

“That's not what I meant,” Gastón felt his father’s eyes almost pierce him. “Something is clearly bothering you.”

Gastón looked down for a moment. He hadn’t really prepared to talk about the situation with anyone else than Matteo, so he didn’t really know how it should be phrased.

“If it is about the Universities—” His dad continued, “—no one is going to force you to do anything.”

“No?” Gastón decided to raise an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Dad looked very serious, “Obviously, we want to help you and we have some thoughts on what would be good for you… and we’re adults which you aren’t quite yet, but at the end of the day it is your choice. We are not going to contest that—as long as you don’t decide to attend the University of Cordoba, that is.”

“You two really don’t hold any love for your alma mater?” Gastón laughed lightly.

“The best thing that happened there was meeting your mother. Everything else was a necessary evil. Got us where we wanted to go and we made it work, but we didn’t have a choice. We couldn’t afford a choice. You have all the choices—that’s what we always strived to give you—not just for economic reasons, but also because you are extremely smart.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“Because it’s true, but this isn’t what’s wrong, is it?”

“No.” Gastón sighed. For people who were workaholics, and sometimes it had felt like they were never around, his parents knew him extremely well. “It’s pretty complicated, you know…”

“I’m just asking, because it hasn’t seemed like Nina has been around in the past couple of weeks.”

“Uhm,” Gastón knew that his face was giving pretty much everything away at that moment, “We…we haven’t broken up…exactly. It’s just… It’s complicated.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“How can you help?” Gastón shook his head.

“I married your mother,” Marco looked at Gastón, “I think I know a thing or two.”

“Really,” Gastón raised his eyebrow again, “Didn’t she basically force you to propose when you were trying to break it off? I have never understood how that actually worked out.”

“That is not what happened,” Gastón watched his dad shake his head, “She was the sensible one who stopped me from ruining my life. Your grandmother had just died, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Oh, right. That was that…” Gastón stopped for a moment, “Sorry.”

“Well, that was twenty years ago. Now tell me what’s going on now.”

“I guess the best way to say it is that we’re in a fight,” Gastón started. He couldn’t tell his parents what Nina had done… Identity fraud was illegal, and they would have her to court so fast. He couldn’t let that happen to her, even after everything, he still l— “She did something that I am not sure I can forgive.”

“Like what?”

“It is hard to explain,” Gastón sighed, “Nothing dangerous or anything like that… It’s between us, so it’s better that you don’t know but… It was something that made me wonder if I can trust her.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

“I don’t know,” Gastón shook his head and sighed exasperatedly. “I—I hate that I don’t know. I don’t want to be away from her, because I love her. It’s eating me alive but…” He looked up for a moment, “It’s probably stupid for me to say that or something...”

“It is not stupid—” Marco started speaking, “—or surprising. Obviously, I don’t know the full story here, and you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s your decision how you want to handle it.”

“What am I supposed to decide?”

“It probably comes down to if you think you would be able to work through this and are you able to forgive her. You are both smart, but also young and make mistakes. She probably didn’t mean to hurt you on purpose.”

“She didn’t.”

“This will sound like a cliche, but you’ll know what to do if you listen to your heart. You have never seemed happier than you have been in the past months. You can’t get over somebody if you don’t want to.”

***

“I mean I am so excited for the competition, but also like super nervous. I am nervous and excited, nerviced!” Luna flobbed down on her bed, “I don’t know, but I feel like Juliana will come around. she’ll have to at least once we win.”

“Let's hope so,” Nina nodded as she was sitting on the floor. The clock was nearing 11 pm and they had spent the night watching few movies and then Luna had wanted to try—and fail—to braid Nina’s hair. The first hour had been spent by trying, and another went by while they had untangled the coil Luna had made.

It had been fun, Nina had to admit that but… She couldn’t fully enjoy everything because she just couldn’t shake everything that was weighing her down. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t ignore the fact that they were in Gastón’s house. She didn’t like to be there without his knowledge and couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he was doing on the floors above them. He probably wouldn’t want to know that she was there, though.

“You okay?” Nina was shaken out of her thoughts by Luna’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nina nodded. She didn’t want to be a downer when Luna was so excited, “It’s just getting late.”

“Yeee….eepp,” Luna suddenly yawned a big yawn, “Wow, the training must have really gotten to me.” Luna shook her head, “So, wanna watch another movie? I need another romantic comedy right now.”

“Sure,” Nina nodded. Maybe the distraction that the stupid movies provided was just what she needed, “I’ll just grab some water first.”

“Okay,” Luna nodded, and Nina walked out of her room and to the small living room/kitchenette. It was small, but nice, given that renovations were recently new. Isla and Marco never did projects halfway. For example, all the tap water was completely drinkable.

“So, what did you have in mi…?” She asked as she walked back into Luna’s room. Luna on the other hand was lying on her bed, mouth open, eyes closed and dead asleep.

Nina had a chuckle for a moment. Of course. Luna had a miraculous gift for falling asleep whenever, wherever. Nina had heard a thousand times how Luna had fallen asleep with her skates on. And it was quite late, and it wasn't the weekend after all, so maybe Luna had the right idea. Sleeping was a good idea. She should go to sleep too…

…she couldn’t do this. Nina realized it very quickly. Why had she pretended that she could have? She had been sleeping so badly after Gastón had gotten mad at her. So obviously she wouldn’t be able to sleep while IN HIS HOUSE!!!

Only one thing was swirling around in her mind…

“I know you don’t want to see me and that I shouldn’t even be here.” Nina started as soon as she pushed the door open. She didn’t know how she had gotten there or what had gotten into her, but…but she just couldn’t do it. She had to go talk to Gastón, so that’s exactly what she was doing, at midnight, showing up in his room with zero warning. This was going to go well. “But I have to do this.”

The room was dark, so she couldn’t see him, but she could hear shifting around and he probably shot up from hearing her voice. This was probably one of the most daring things she had ever done, and this could go so many different ways.

“I have been here with Luna, I didn’t break in,” Nina continued… She had one shot of this, “I know you don’t wanna talk to me, and you don’t have to, but please hear me out.”

She got no answer, so she took it as a yes or something like it… so she continued.

“I—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore…” Words suddenly started getting stuck on her throat…this was going well. “I know that I messed up, and I never should have gone even near to the applications. I should have respected your own decisions. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I am supposed to say or do for you to forgive me because… that’s all I want, that you forgive me. I love you, I can’t bear this… I’m sorry. If I could go back in time, I would…”

She felt a tear fall onto her cheek. There still was no response. This had been pointless…

The room was still completely dark, and now it was also silent. Nina swallowed the rest of her tears and started to turn back. This had been her last attempt, there was no chance now…

“Wait.” Suddenly a hand closed around her wrist, turning her around.

She didn’t really have any time to say anything to even fully understand as a hand grabbed her from the back of her head and lips were captured in a soft kiss.

“Wait…what?” Nina got out of her mouth. Her head was completely spinning and there was a war inside of her. Only thing she wanted was to melt into Gastón’s arms, but in her head, this didn’t make sense. “You forgiven me? But…”

“I have, yes,” It was still completely dark, no one had turned the lights on, but she could still find his eyes. “Look, I don’t agree with what you did and that you didn’t trust me to know what’s best for me, hurt me.”

“I’m sorr—”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” Gastón continued. “And I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“I was worried you would resent me… I…”

“Hey, I can understand that, but the decision is mine and I’m responsible for my own choices. I can blame no one else. I wish you would have talked to me about this, instead of doing what you did, I can’t know that you’re worried about something if you don’t tell me.”

“I know…I will…” Nina’s voice started trailing off slightly. Gastón had moved his hands to her waist and had pulled her closer. She could feel his breath on her face, and it was making her lose her train of thought. They had been separated for maybe two weeks, over 300 hours. It had been way too much, right now she wasn’t able to quite comprehend how she had ever been able to stand it. She couldn’t really stand the slight separation between their lips at that very moment.

Well, she didn’t need to stand it, not anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck—it was still dark by the way, but she didn’t need to see to know what to do—and kissed him. He responded at once, his arms tightened around her waist as the kiss deepened and he lifted her up in the air.

“Nina?” Luna stirred on her bed. “What’s the time?”

“6:55 am.” Nina, who had been tying her tie on the Blake uniform said.

“Oh, so I didn’t oversleep,” Luna jumped up, “Great! Now…where did I leave the uniform again…?”

“It’s probably in your closet,” Nina suggested.

“No,” Luna shook her head after she had opened the closet and almost halfway stepped into it. “MOM!”

“Luna, what are you doing?” Monica showed up at the door of Luna’s room. “Hey, Nina.”

“Hi.” Nina nodded.

“Luna, why are you still in pyjamas?” Monica crossed her arms, “You’ll be late to school soon.”

“We have time, but I can’t find my uniform.”

“Did you look in the closet?”

“I’ll go up already,” Nina said as Luna and Monica started going through Luna’s closets. She didn’t get a response, but it was probably best that she got out of their hair, so she climbed the stairs up to the kitchen.

“Morning.” She saw Gastón standing in the kitchen. Their eyes locked immediately. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Yes,” She nodded before approaching him, “You?”

“I think I slept better than in a while. Had an interesting dream.”

“Interesting?” Nina responded to his teasing as she walked closer, “Your tie is crooked, let me.”

“Was it actually, or was that an excuse?” She felt his hands go to her waist gripping the blazer as he pulled her closer as soon as her fingers left his tie.

“It was,” Nina nodded and looked him in the eyes. His golden eyes shifted darker as he looked at her.

“Good.”

Nina wasn’t actually even that sure how they made this long in this…conversation…before kissing. Well, it didn’t matter now, as her eyes fluttered shut and she wrapped her arms around Gastón’s neck while their lips met quite passionately. She had to get on her toes, as the school uniform’s shoes were flats with zero platform and she was so short. Not that it had stopped them before, nor would it now.

They were forced to separate as one of the kitchen doors opened and Isla walked in on her phone. Given that their reconciliation had happened maybe seven hours ago, getting caught heavily making out wasn't exactly how she wanted the world to know about it.

“Gastón, I’m going to three meetings up north of Buenos Aires today,” Isla lowered her phone as she had put a coffee maker on, “your father is joining me on the last one and it's possible that it’ll run late. We might have to stay for the night, if we don’t, we’ll be back extremely late. Tell Monica what you want for dinner.”

“I have handled myself alone for years now,” Gastón responded, “I don’t need instructions.”

“I know that, but this came up so last minute, I wanted to let you know. Now you don’t need to stay alone.”

“Okay yeah,” Gastón nodded, “We’ll be at Roller though. We’re training for the competition.”

“In that case, definitely make sure you eat…in a reasonable hour,” Isla stated, before suddenly turning her eyes to Nina. She had been hoping that maybe she would not be noticed, but that was hopeless now. “Hi Nina.”

“Hi,” Nina just nodded back, “I hope it’s okay I’m here. I was with L—”

“Of course, it is,” Isla’s impression didn’t change, “Why wouldn’t it be?” After that she raised her phone back onto her ear suddenly, “Yes, I’m still here. I’ll be hitting the road in a minute. Yes, of course…looking forward to it.”

“Do you think she…?” Nina asked after Isla had gone.

“Saw? No.” Gastón shook his head, “But that’s different from her actually knowing. She always somehow knows… Apparently, it’s something with my eyes that Dad does too. And I kind of do get it,” He reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand pulling her closer to him once more. “It’s kind of hard not to be obvious when I look at you.”

Nina rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face into his neck for a moment, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” She felt his fingers brush through her hair. “It was impossibly hard to stay away from you.”

“I’m sorr—”

“I’m not taking any more apologies—”

“Nina! Did you go up? Where are you?” Luna’s voice rang from below the stairs.

“I’m here!” Nina yelled back after reluctantly detaching herself off of Gastón.

“I already ate, so I’ll go grab my stuff from upstairs,” He turned toward the door.

“Monica hasn’t come up yet.” Nina noted.

“I can handle my own breakfast,” Gastón shook his head, “It’s kind of this deal we have, to keep me from losing my mind. You can tell Luna that the car leaves in 15 minutes.”

Gastón kissed Nina on her hand and slipped out of the door right before Luna walked up the stairs with her mother.

“It was on top of the closet!” Luna started complaining. She was still buttoning her vest up. “I have no idea how it got up there.”

“Good thing is that we found it in the end,” Monica opened the fridge. “What do you girls want to eat?”

***

“So, please recap the plan again,” Gastón asked Matteo as they were walking in the hallway. “You wanna do what?”

“It’ll work,” Matteo started speaking, “Right before the competition… I’ll put the drive in, and I’ll need help—”

“I’ll help you, don’t worry.” Gastón nodded.

“Hopefully it actually will work,” Matteo sighed.

“You just said that it will,” Gastón pointed out, “Are you being optimistic or not? Make up your mind.”

“I am optimistic,” Matteo said more confidently.

“That’s the spirit!” Gastón patted Matteo on the shoulder.

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood,” Matteo looked at Gastón, “What’s going on?”

“Well, I might have had a pretty good night.” Gastón could help himself from smiling.

“What made the night good?” Matteo was eyeing him quite suspiciously, “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Gastón shook his head, “I just, uhm… I forgave Nina.”

“You did?” Matteo looked shocked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know I was going to, until I did,” Gastón responded, “But I got some good advice and realized what’s really important. I just couldn't stay away from her any longer.”

“Well, your good mood makes sense then,” Matteo patted him on his arm on his turn, “Hopefully this brings me some good luck. We can do a double date once this all is over.”

***

“I still don’t understand how on earth my skirt ended up in the bottom drawer,” Luna rambled on as she and Nina were walking toward their next class.

“You probably just forgot you put it there,” Nina noted.

“Yeah, maybe…” Luna scratched her head, “Sorry I fell asleep last night. We never watched the movie.”

“It’s okay,” Nina reassured her, “It was getting late.”

“I will never understand how all of that works,” Luna shook her head, “I mean my dreams are always all over the place and stuff. I mean I think I maybe woke up at some point and you weren’t there at the room—”

“Well, actually…” Nina started.

“—but I was just dreaming.” Luna continued and didn’t allow Nina to get a word in. “Where would you have gone?”

“That’s the thing…” Nina tried again. She wanted to tell Luna, but she wasn’t allowing her to get started.

“Well, it does not matter,” Luna kept talking as she started rummaging through her bag, “Do we have math next? I think I did the homework… Usually if I am not late, I also have my homework done. You know, really nice for Gastón to still give us a ride, because otherwise it would have taken us forever to get here.”

“Uhm, what do you mean? Doesn’t he always drive you?” Nina looked at Luna confused. She didn’t understand what Luna was really getting at. They had all gotten a ride together—Nina had intentionally sat behind the driver, and when Luna had not been looking, had sneaked to touch his arm or hair. It was hard to keep her hands to herself.

Gastón had sent her a pretty lengthy text afterwards about driving safety and how distracting the driver was not allowed, in a manner that very much transferred that he actually hadn’t minded at all. This had sparked extremely flirty back and forth conversation which in the end had made her blush so furiously that it had been a miracle that Luna, Jim or Yam had not noticed anything during their first class.

“Well, I mean it’s great that you two are on terms enough that he was willing to do that,” Luna continued.

“Uh, Luna,” Nina started once more, “We’re not on that kind of terms.”

“What do you mean?” Luna stared blankly.

“I have to tell you something,” Nina continued, “What I meant by not on terms is that, we’ve…we have made up.”

“What?” Luna stared again, “Wait? What? When?”

“Last night,” Nina felt a smile grow on her face when she thought about it. “You weren’t dreaming, I wasn’t there. I went to talk to him after you fell asleep and we...”

“That is so awesome!” Luna exclaimed and jumped to hug Nina. “I told you he was going to forgive you!”

***

“Woohoo, we just did it!” Matteo celebrated as the team rolled off the rink and grabbed Gastón’s shoulders.

“We did it,” He nodded. “But this was just the start. You more than did it.”

“I pulled it off,” Matteo nodded nervously, “And Chica Delivery hasn’t killed me yet, so that’s a good sign.”

“Has she said anything to you yet?” Gastón asked.

“No,” Matteo shook his head, “We need to talk.”

“If she still refuses to talk to you—” Gastón started, “—come to mine. We can lock you two into your room and then you’ll be forced to talk.”

“Good idea.”

“Congratulations!” Suddenly, Nina came behind them and jumped into Gastón’s arms. Matteo had to shuffle back for a moment to give them some more space. He was happy that Gastón and Nina had been able to reconcile since Gastón had been absolutely miserable. It had been a few days, and they already were all over each other like always. “I knew you could do it.”

“Well, we didn’t win.”

“That doesn’t matter, you qualified, that’s what’s important.” Nina continued, and turned to look at Matteo, “You did well too. It was very brave.”

“Thanks,” Matteo nodded, “Has…has Luna said anything to you?”

“No,” Nina shook her head, “You two should talk.”

“Don’t I know it.” Matteo remarked.

***

“After you.” Gastón opened the gate to his house for Nina and she walked in.

“Thank you,” She giggled as Gastón pulled the gate shut. “Do you think Luna and Matteo will actually sort it out?”

“I think I might be able to be positive about it,” Gastón turned to look at her, “Overthinking is always the problem. But from personal experience…” He pulled Nina by the arm closer and wrapped his other arm around her waist, “...it’s not that hard in the end.”

“I’m sorry I complicated things,” Nina started saying and she placed her hand on his chest.

“You don’t need to apologize anymore,” Gastón looked at her disapprovingly, “I told you.”

“I know. I’m sorr—” She was interrupted by a seething kiss that made her mind go completely blank and she almost lost her balance.

“I’m gonna do that every time you try to apologize,” He smirked after they separated.

“I love you.” Nina placed her forehead on his.

“I love you.” Gastón responded and kissed her again. “We should go in. The broadcast promised rain and it hasn’t come yet, so it can be any minute now.”

“Yeah,” Nina nodded as they started walking toward the door. “Wait, are your parents home?”

“Yeah, they are.” Gastón furrowed his brow as he looked at her. “What is it?”

“Just that, they don’t know so should we…?”

“Should we nothing.” Gastón seemed to laugh, “Let's just go in, there they’ll find out, if they already don’t know. Mom might, and that means Dad does too. It’s not a big deal, you know they love you. It’s impossible not to.”

Nina looked down, blushing for a moment. Same time she was trying to process the feeling of surprise on Gastón's statement about his parents knowing if the other one did, because of course they did. That was how it should have been, what he was used to. Gastón had one home, two parents who loved him and were deeply in love with each other. Anyone with eyes was able to see that. No one was fighting over petty things or trying to one up each other. They loved each other, understood each other and worked as a team and a unit.

That had been a bit of a culture shock for Nina, even when that should have been the norm. She had never experienced that. Her parents apparently had been in love and happy at some point, that’s what they had told her, but she had no memories of it, couldn’t even imagine it. The best her parents had ever gotten along was right now, as Dad was literally in a different—not just a country—continent.

“We’re back!!” Gastón yelled as he opened the door that led from the entry to the kind of the crossroads of a few hallways leading to the library and the living room. As they walked forward, Nina saw that both Isla and Marco were sitting on a couch in the living room. They turn to look when they entered and didn’t even bat an eye at seeing Nina.

“You had that competition today, correct? How’d it go?”

“Good,” Gastón nodded nonchalantly, “We didn’t win the round, but we qualified. So, we're in the next round, that’s all that matters.”

“That’s great.”

“Well, we’re going up.” Gastón nodded and they started climbing the stairs. Nina was kind of taken aback by the nonchalant back and forth about the skating, but it seemed like that was just how it was. Gastón’s parents weren’t really involved with his hobby, and he didn’t seem to mind. Nina herself had hated her own parents hanging around Roller.

Ding!

“Wait.” Nina’s phone suddenly rang with an incoming message as they were about midway up the spiral staircase and pulled her phone out. “It’s Luna.”

Luna: Girl get ready. I’ve got some great news. I’ll give you a hint. Lutteo. Yes!

“I think they did it,” Nina showed the text to Gastón smiling.

“Thanks to every good force in the universe,” Gastón laughed, “Maybe this will actually work. Good for them.” He learned down and pecked her on the lips. “Well, we have a lot of reasons to be happy then.”

***

“Luna, can you hand me that tray?” Monica asked Luna as she walked up to the kitchen. Apparently, there was some sort of party held that day, at least from all the noise and talking she could hear from coming all around the kitchen. Apparently, Senora Isla and Senor Marco had a bunch of friends who were all over.

“Yeah sure,” Luna grabbed a tray that had some sort of small pastry and handed it to her mother. She had been all over the kitchen in full force the whole day but seemed to have fun.

“How are you doing over here?” Miguel walked into the kitchen and kissed Monica on the cheek.

“Busy, even with the hired help,” She responded while giving instructions to one of the waiters, “but I like a challenge.”

“This won’t be a challenge for you,” Miguel remarked.

“Is there something else I can help with?” Luna asked.

“Well, if you take those plates and move them to the counter under the microwaves,” Monica pointed toward a cabinet. Luna walked there and took out a pile of plates and started carrying them toward the counter Mom had said when—

“Wow, you back in the food service Chica Delivery?” Matteo’s hands helped Luna to steady the pile of plates before she was able to drop them. “Don’t want to shatter the fine china they have over here. Isla and Marco don’t take kindly to people messing with their prized possessions…like these plates.”

“Thanks, Chico Fresa,” Luna rolled her eyes laughing as she put the plates into the counter, “I didn’t realize they care about plates…”

“Oh, just messing with you,” Matteo grinned, “These are probably from Ikea. But you still don’t wanna go around breaking stuff.” Matteo swiped a little bit of hair off Luna’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Luna crossed her arms after she got the plates organized.

“Broke in…” Matteo looked around like he was delaying a conspiracy, “...heard that there was food.”

“You’re messing with me again.” Luna tilted her head affectionately.

“Maybe,” Matteo rolled his eyes, “My parents were invited, so I came with… You know, for the food.”

“For the food?” Luna raised an eyebrow.

“And for other things as well,” Matteo kissed Luna on the cheek before grabbing her hand. “Come on.”

“What do you mean?” Luna tried to question, but Matteo was already pulling her toward one of the kitchen doors, and out of it.

“Just trust me.” Matteo pulled her out of the kitchen and beyond.

“Matteo, I’m not allowed to be here!” Luna protested again as Matteo pulled her into a room in a hallway that looked like a library…

They had a library in this house? No wonder Nina liked this place so much.

“Who’s gonna care?” Luna turned around and saw Gastón and Nina standing there as well.

“Oh, you were here as well?” Luna had not even known that Nina was here. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re escaping the crowd and you’re coming with us.” Matteo noted.

“Escaping where?” Luna was still a bit confused.

“Upstairs,” Gastón pointed toward a narrow spiral staircase behind him. Why were there stairs in the library? Luna felt like this extremely fancy modern house was actually a medieval fort sometimes. “But I just realized that these stairs just got painted yesterday… so we need to take the others.”

“How did you almost forget that?” Matteo asked Gastón as he pushed the library door back open.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Luna whispered to Nina.

“Gastón asked me to come yesterday,” Nina explained, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Where are you going?” They stopped suddenly as they came across Senora Isla—Who was looking extremely glamorous.

“Up,” Gastón responded to his mother, “Mom, please. I’ve said hi to anyone who might ask about me. Let us go.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Gastón grabbed Nina’s hand and they started climbing the stairs.

“Aren’t you coming?” Matteo turned around to look at Luna.

“Oh yeah,” Luna nodded and grabbed his hand. As they climbed up the stairs, Luna realized that she had never been in the upper floors of the house. She had barely been on the main floor, where the living room was.

The stairs led to another floor, which had more of those giant windows at the end of the hallways. There also were more photos on the walls. There also were more doors. The stairs also kept going, so there also was another floor? How big was this house?

Luna had no idea where they were going, but Matteo apparently did. They turned left from the stairs and Matteo pushed some sliding double doors open, into a dark room. Gastón and Nina were there too.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Matteo asked.

“I haven’t turned it on yet,” Gastón pushed a button on the wall and suddenly a bunch of flames shot up the other end of the room, which made Luna jump. Why was she so jumpy with fire?

“How does that work?” Luna asked. Her vision was focusing again, and she saw that there hadn’t just been a free inferno in the room. The fire was contained in a fireplace, behind glass. But how was a button able to do that?

“It’s gaslit,” Gastón explained while sitting down on one of the big couches in the room and Nina sat next to him leaning her head to his shoulder, “So the flames are actually coming from burners, no actual wood is burning. So basically cheating, but we don’t have time to set up a real fireplace and an open flame feels like a fire hazard.”

“Are you gonna look at the flames all day?” Matteo pulled Luna to sit down on the couch on the opposite wall next to him.

“Oh, nope,” Luna shook her head.

“So, what do you think about the Vidia thing?” Matteo started talking. “I mean I already signed up but wonder who else is going to.”

“I think I heard that Yam is signing up,” Nina noted.

“Uuu, and Simon is too!” Luna turned to look at Matteo, “This will be super fun!”

“Oh great,” Matteo seemed to roll his eyes for a moment, “I get to compete with Guitarista again…”

“Matteo be nice.” Luna frowned at his direction.

“OH, Ambar has signed up,” Nina had pulled her phone out and was probably reading the Vidia’s website.

“Ambar?” Gastón raised his eyebrow. “She wants to win the record contract now?”

“You never know with Ambar,” Matteo shook his head.

“I think I saw her and Simon rehearse together actually,” Nina looked pensive for a moment.

“Simon and Ambar?” Gastón shook his head, “That is a bizarre thought. You’d think I’d seen everything from her at this point…”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked at her turn.

“I have known her since the third grade,” Gastón started talking, “I think I have actually known her for the longest. Longer than Delfi and Jazmin at least.”

“Seriously?” Nina turned to look at Gastón, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not that relevant. We’ve never been friends exactly.”

“I still can’t process an image of Simon and Ambar together,” Matteo scratched the back of his head, “Didn’t Jazmin like him too? I can’t keep track.”

“Like you said,” Gastón continued, “You never know with Ambar. I think she probably dated every guy in our class in middle school.”

“Every?” Nina slowly turned to look at Gastón again.

“As in everyone else,” Gastón quickly corrected himself. “No, not me. We never…trust me.”

Luna wasn’t that sure what happened next, but it kind of seemed like they suddenly had a completely nonverbal conversation, which ended up with Nina leaning back into him and Gastón kissing her onto her forehead.

“Well, that’s enough about Ambar and her love life,” Matteo sighed, “I feel like the competition is a good opportunity for me to show my dad.”

“Why do you need to show him?” Luna asked, confused.

“He is insistent on that music isn’t a “proper job” and I need to do something worthwhile with my life,” Matteo made mock quotation marks, before pointing in Gastón’s direction “that’s your fault by the way.”

“You’re acting like the whole Oxford thing wasn’t your doing?”

“I think we fell off the wagon,” Nina noted.

“Okay, what we mean by that is that there has been some cross contamination of some views between our parents,” Gastón explained. “I mean Mom and Dad got the whole Oxford thing in their head from Alexander.”

“And the whole Gastón’s parents thing has spooked my Dad,” Matteo laughed, “Now I need to get a proper job, because that is only way forward.”

“Your Dad’s ignoring the fact that the problem was, at least the way I understood it, it was Cordoba’s bad economy and almost all of my grandparent’s dying. The problem was generational, that Mom and Dad have worked to stop.”

“They’re all dead?” Luna questioned.

“Grandma’s alive,” Gastón explained, “She lives with my aunt’s family. Mom’s dad, Joakim, my grandpa died in a car crash when she was 14. Dad’s parents, Katherine and Darío, both had cancer, and didn’t survive. They died when Dad was in college.”

“Well, not to cut the sob story,” Matteo interrupted, “Can we go get some snacks because I am starving.”

“Where should we go from here?” Luna was staring a picture of her necklace on the computer screen.

“I don’t really know,” Nina shook her head, “If we want to find out where your necklace comes from, maybe we should do some jewelry research. I don’t know how that’s done though. I know nothing about jewelry.”

“Me either,” Luna placed her forehead on the table for a moment, “I mean, Mom and Dad said that it was made here, but the maker was sketchy…”

“Who’s sketchy?” Gastón suddenly walked into the kitchen and placed his hand on Nina’s shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hadn’t had the time to tell you yet,” Nina responded while looking up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Uhm, it’s actually something quite personal,” Nina started saying. Luna could appreciate her valuing her things over her boyfriend, but...

“I don’t really think you should hide anything,” Luna piped up, “We can trust him. We are looking into my past.”

“You’re past?” Gastón raised an eyebrow. “What is there to look into?”

“Quite a lot actually, because I’m adopted.”

“Wait, you’re adopted?”

“I thought everyone knew,” Luna shrugged, “I don’t hide it.”

“I didn’t know that,” Gastón noted, “What have you been doing?”

“Kind of nothing,” Nina sighed, “We set up a website for clues, but there has been no activity after Perception.”

“The what now?”

“We met up with some woman who claimed to have knowledge about my necklace, but she turned out to be some sort of a psychic who just wanted to sell us her book,” Luna laughed.

“Wait what?” Gastón’s grip on Nina’s shoulder tightened as he looked alarmed, “You met up with some crazy person from the internet? Please tell me you stopped.”

“It was a long time ago,” Nina placed her hand on top of his, “My Dad came with us. Although, it was weird.”

“I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”

“You’re the one to talk to, though,” Nina looked at him a little more humorously, “You were the one who was insistent on setting up dates with a person you met over on the internet.”

“Which led me to think I was in love with a 40-year-old woman for a week,” Gastón stated his point, “Thanks for that by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I think that might have been my idea,” Luna cringed for a moment, “Sorry.”

“What were you talking about a necklace?”

“Well, this is the only thing I have from the time before I was adopted,” Luna raised her moon pendant up, “We have been trying to figure out its origins. Mom and Dad apparently found out it had something to do with a person called Victorino Wang, but apparently, he’s dangerous, so we can’t go any further with that.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Gastón nodded.

“How so?”

“Higher you get in class here in Buenos Aires, the sketchier it gets. Why do you think Mom and Dad pretend I don’t exist?”

“They do that?”

“Anyways,” Gastón shook his head, “You might wanna ask Mom about that.”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s pretty into jewelry, at least has a lot of it and she knows about a lot of those sort of things.” Gastón explained, “Ask her, especially if we’re talking about a Buenos Airesian jeweler.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Nina looked at Gastón again, some sort of twinkle in her eyes.

“I don’t wanna bother your parents.” Luna shook her head.

“You won’t bother her,” Gastón shook his head, “You know, they like you, a lot.”

“They do?”

“Yep,” Gastón nodded, “Also, these sorts of things and stuff are actually quite personal for Mom.”

“Wait why?” Luna furrowed her brow, “She’s not adopted herself is she?”

“No,” Gastón shook his head in a manner that wasn’t fully convincing, but no one noticed it, at the time. “She’s not. That’s not it, exactly… There is little more to it, but that’s not in my liberty to tell people. Anyways, trust me, she will want to help. I’ll leave you to it, I have some things to get to.” He kissed Nina on the cheek, “See you later.”

“You didn’t need to tell him,” Nina said to Luna after Gastón had gone. “if you didn’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” Luna shook her head, “I don’t want to make you lie to him, plus he was able to help us.”

“That’s true,” Nina nodded, “He is right. Wang seems like a person for the upper classes, so Isla really might know something, maybe even have something from him. Or she might know somebody who knows. Why didn't I think that myself?”

“I guess it doesn’t hurt to try,” Luna nodded.

“Have you told Matteo about any of this?” Nina asked Luna.

“No,” Luna shook her head again, “I mean… I have been thinking that maybe I should, but he has been acting so off after he won the competition. I feel like we don’t really understand each other. Not like you and Gastón do.”

Later that night Luna was lurking in a hallway. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea in the world, but she couldn’t wait and wanted this done.

She perked up as she heard a door open from the hallway where the office was, and footsteps started approaching. From the sharpness of the clicks, it was clearly heels.

“Senora Isla?” Luna walked forward.

“Luna?” She turned around, “You don’t need to call me that. You don’t work for us. Just call me Isla.”

“Okay, well,” Luna nodded.

“What is it?”

“I wanted to ask if you could help me with something,” Luna started.

“Well, depending on what it is,” Isla looked at Luna.

“Okay, so, I’m adopted,” Luna started. She had realized she would probably need to give a little more context to this and not get straight to the point like when talking to Nina.

“Yes, I know that.”

“We’re trying to look into my past,” Luna continued, “and kind of getting nowhere… Anyways, this necklace is the only thing I have from the time before the adoption, the only clue I have.” Luna was grasping her necklace in her hand. “Uh, Gastón said that you know a lot about jewelry and we’re trying to figure out where this has come from. Can you help?”

“Well, I can try,” Isla seemed to look at Luna’s hand, “Can I see it?”

“Yeah, of course.” Luna handed Isla the necklace and she looked at it hanging off the chain.

“Well, I can tell it’s clearly well made,” Isla said while eyeing the charm, “you can tell it from just the weight alone.”

“There’s a sun that went with that,” Luna started talking again, “but I lost it.”

“A sun and a moon?” Isla looked at Luna again, “Quite charming that you have this. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything like this, so I won't be able to tell you that much.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Luna looked down.

“But do you mind if I take a few pictures of it?”

“Yeah, take away,” Luna took the necklace back. “Thanks.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.” Isla responded to Luna.

“What was that about?” Marco walked behind Isla after Luna had gone.

“She just asked for some help,” Isla explained as she was looking through the photos on her phone, “Apparently, she’s looking into her past, for her biological parents. She asked me to look at a necklace she had pre-adoption.”

“Well, good for you to help. Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Isla looked at her husband, “You know how I feel about this. Everyone should have the right to find out where they have come from, or the right to choose not to know, if they don’t want to. Of course, I’d help…even if—If Gastón ever wanted to find out, I would, even when I have never—”

“He won’t,” Marco interrupted her, “I sincerely doubt he would ever want anything to do with that man. Not after what he did to you and your mother.”

“I know that,” Isla smiled before frowning again, “Marco, how does a three year old girl in an orphanage in Mexico City have that sort of a jewel?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not a professional, but that necklace was clearly expensive, extremely expensive. I don’t think they know that themselves. The fine metals, the craftsmanship and artistry… I would almost bet it’s a custom-made piece. The chain wasn’t just plated, it was solid gold.”

“Right, I understand,” Marco nodded, “Makes you really wonder where she has come from.”

“And what was she doing in an orphanage?” Isla shook her head, before looking at the photos again, “I’ll send these to Maria, she might be able to make a better sense of them.”

***

Ambar found herself humming while she walked down the stairs in the Mansion.

“Are you sure about this Mrs. Benson?” Ambar stopped as she heard Rey’s voice coming from the living room. She had to roll her eyes. Why was Madrina always stressed by something…

…honestly, Ambar felt quite relaxed at the moment. She had her house back, no Lunita bothering her every hour of the day. Actually, the little girl had actually become a tad bit more tolerable at the rink as well, not that she would ever actually admit it.

“How many times do I need to repeat myself Rey!” Sharon’s voice rang out. “Do as you’re told. We’re losing time.”

“Very well,” Rey’s voice sounded a bit defeated. “And the risks…”

“I am done hearing about risks! This is what we're doing…” Sharon’s voice faded for a moment, “We’ll see who is laughing after this. Their arrogance won’t save them now. They claim they have no weakness, but I know better than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“What they try to hide is what they fear … The child.”

“What you’re implying would be a hundred times riskier and more dangerous…”

“You think I don’t know that?!!” Sharon’s voice got angrier. “I don’t want to go there. That’s why, this has to work, otherwise we will have no option.”

Ambar started walking away as fast as she could. She could only guess what Madrina had been talking with Rey about, but something told me that she didn’t want to know. She didn’t like what she had heard.

She didn’t know who they were talking about and who they were trying to bring down, but… was it about the Valentes? Ambar didn’t care about Lunita and her family, she didn’t, but she didn’t understand why Madrina was so concerned about them. Not their problem, good riddance…

…but, if she wasn’t sure how much she liked the idea of trouble coming into anyone’s way. Mostly because… she had known Gastón for a long time, and they were kind of friends. In some way she did care for him, and she would never admit being envious, but his family seemed pretty great… for people of their status.

Ambar didn’t want them to get mixed up in any sort of trouble, just because they were involved with losers like Valentes. That sort of sensation was pretty new for her.

***

Gastón put his phone back into his pocket as he heard…the gate buzzer go off? No one ever rang that. Most of the people who came into the house either had clearances, keys and fingerprint access, or someone knew they were coming. If someone needed the gate to be opened, they called whoever they were coming to see.

In other words, this was weird.

He wondered for a moment if he should just ignore it as spam, but there was no foot traffic on their street. He walked to the window and pushed the curtains open, so he was able to see to the gate—

What?

“Mom, Dad—” He pushed the office’s door open.

“Can it wait for a moment?” His dad interrupted.

“No, it can’t really wait,” Gastón continued, “There are police at our gate.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Gastón nodded, “What have you done?”

“Nothing,” His mother almost laughed. Given, on paper, this kind of was a comical situation. “This has to be a mistake.”

“They probably got the addresses mixed up,” Marco continued, “Windlows down the street have probably gotten caught from all the tax fraud they’d been doing.”

“Or they’re on their way to Castillo house again and decided for their sanity that they couldn’t do it, so they are pretending to be lost.”

“Well, that doesn’t really change the fact that they're still at OUR door,” Gastón repeated.

“Don’t worry, we’ll handle this.”

“Now we have seen everything,” Isla remarked as she and Marco walked toward the gate of their house. There really was a police car parked in front of it and two officers in uniforms were standing at the gate.

“Excuse me?” Marco asked as they got to the gate. “Can we help you?”

“Police, good afternoon.” One of the officers showed his badge as Marco opened the gate. “Are you the owners of this property?”

“Yes, I’m Marco Perida, this is my wife Isla. Are you sure you’re in the right location?”

“Do Miguel Valente and Monica Aguilar-Valente live here?” The other officer asked.

“Yes, they’re our in-house employees,” Isla responded, “What is this about?”

“In that case, we need you to let us in,” The police officer pulled out a document, “We have a warrant for their arrest.”

“This has to be a mistake,” Marco started saying, “What are they accused of?”

“That is classified information,” The officer stated, “We have a court order, they have to come with us.”

“This is ridiculous!” Isla exclaimed, “They haven’t done anything.”

“Like we said, we have a warrant…”

“What’s going on?” A voice came behind them.

Isla closed her eyes for a moment. This really wasn’t a situation Gastón should be inserting himself into.

“It’s okay. Go back inside, we’ll handle this.” She turned to her son.

“It’s clearly not okay,” He argued, “What is going on?”

“I won’t repeat myself again,” The police officer continued, “We have a court order, ordering the arrest of Miguel Valente and Monica Aguilar-Valente.”

“What?!”

“Go back inside.” Isla turned toward Gastón again.

“I suggest you don’t resist if you don’t want any problems,” The officers started to become frustrated. “Otherwise, we will have no choice but to arrest you as well.”

“Mom, Dad…” Fear flashed into Gastón’s eyes and Isla looked at Marco.

They couldn’t… It didn’t feel right, but they had no option. They couldn’t let the situation escalate and get ugly, not in front of Gastón. Definitely not get themselves arrested in front of him.

They couldn’t risk it.

“Follow us.”

{}

Well, how's that for an ending...? What gonna happen, we don't know yet. But honestly, would you let yourself get arrested in front of your child to save your employees, which it also would have probably not worked. Of course not. Well, what else happened here? Gastina obviously got back together, because of course they did. We were not gonna dragg that out. This is how it should have happened. We also gotta sweet scene with Gastón and his Dad out of it since there's no daddy issues in this house, Matteo has enough of them. Lutteo took off, flew, crashed and burned... All in the same chapter, but what were you expecting? I am not a big Lutteo person and like I said last time, where Luna lives doesn't stop Matteo from being an idiot. Their issues are inevitable. And Like Luna is not the main character here, so her love life can be unimportant. There is no main character in the fic, the focus is more the "change" it self or like the house. Luna's investigation is raising some eyebrows, we'll see how that will go what she will find out this way. Some people are probably wondering who on earth is Maria, so let me clear that out. Maria Aguirre is an OC who has originated from SI, mentioned in chap 2 and appeared in chap 6. She has also been mentioned in GOS and other works, but I don't blame anyone if you don't remember her. She is a close friend of Gastón's mother and a jeweler who made Gastina's wedding rings. Also, I am very much aware how confusing the discussion between Gastón parents was about Gastón not wanting find something out. This is a classic case of characters knowing something that the reader doesn't. I will not be cleared it up here, since it's not plot relevant and will be explored in a future work. If you know you know, since it has been actually mentioned before. But I wanna clear some things up, given that it sounded super sketchy and is prone to misinterpretation. Gastón is not adopted and he is biologically both of his parents' child. I mean, it been said million times how much he looks like his Dad. I also am thinking maybe bringing Ambar's redemption into this, but we'll see. Even if she turns her life around, maybe helps with all the Sharon scheming, she still has burned the rink. All that said, what do you think will happen next?? Things are getting interesting.

#Soy Luna #soy luna fanfiction #Gastina #Lutteo #Soy Luna Season 2 #Gastteo #Au #Twist #This was just a stupid idea #But I am rolling with it #And having fun

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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lubdubsworld · 3 years ago

Text

GIFT .

Genre : Brother-in-law Jungkook x OC!

Warnings : Yandere Jungkook! Non Consent. Manipulative behaviour. Explicit Sexual Content, Violence, Murder

Author's Note : I love reading Yandere fics so I just wanted to write one!! Its very different from what I usually write... So proceed with caution.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time I met Jungkook , it was five years into my relationship with Namjoon.

Namjoon had told me all about his baby brother, a final year student in SNU. Jungkook majored in Business , training to take over the company business . Namjoon often mentioned that it was Jungkook's offer to switch majors that had helped him pursue his own dream of being a music producer.

So when he told me that Jungkook was on a break from university and his parents were looking forward to having a proper family dinner with all of us, I was excited to meet the boy , I'd heard so much about. Namjoon was endlessly fond of his little brother and I wanted him to like me just as much.

Namjoon and I had met seven years earlier in the University Library and had become fast friends. We were both quiet, intellectually driven individuals, preferring to spend our time in the library as opposed to partying with our friends. And yet, in a twist , against our family’s wishes, we had chosen not to pursue an academically driven career either. I’d always felt out of place in my own friend group, most of my friend from Journalism being extroverted and fun loving. Namjoon for his part had only two very close friends, Yoongi and Hoseok and preferred spending time by himself as well.

So it was only natural that we fell in with each other with ease. His beautiful dimpled smile tugged on my gut, even as his gentle nature and gorgeous mind made my heart pound. I fell in love with him, between the late night laughter in the library and the soft secrets whispered against my skin, in the privacy of his bed.

“Nervous?” His voice drew me to the present, fingers inking with mine as he lightly knocked his shoulders against mine, staring down at me with a dimpled smile. I shook my head quickly, squeezing his hand gently.

“Of course not. I just want him to like me.” I whispered and Namjoon chuckled.

“Jungkookie isn’t very expressive so don’t worry if he isn’t very vocal in his affections. He’s very shy with new people but I’m sure, he’ll love you.” Namjoon reached out and lightly, brushed the hair off my face before leaning down and giving me a quick kiss.

I gripped his waist, pressing in closer, lips parting instinctively , eager to chase the taste of him. He groaned and gripped my elbow, pulling me around to press up against the tall , lean strength of his body and this was it, this endless need to touch him even after seven whole years of being together. I moaned when he bit down on my lips, my back arching a bit to press into him.

“Hyung?”

We parted, surprised and I felt my face flame, lips slicked wet and no doubt red from where Joon’s teeth had sunk in.

What a first impression.

“Ahh… Jungkook-ah… You came out?” Namjoon looked a little flustered, dimples peeking out in an abashed smile as he laughed embarrassedly I found myself smiling at Jungkook, who looked nothing like I’d imagined.

I’d been expecting someone cute and friendly.

Jungkook was dressed in all black, tall and intimidating. He was also almost surreally beautiful, gaze piercing and steady as he stared at me. I felt an instinctive urge to hide, not missing the way his gaze trailed up and down my body, lips parting gently to reveal a pair of bunny teeth that looked jarringly adorable on a face that was , quite simply put, arrestingly gorgeous.

He hummed, still standing in the doorway, eyes trained on me and I swallowed when he smiled , wide and open. His tongue darted out, lightly licking his lower lip .

“Hi, Hana.” He said softly and I startled.

“Hana? I’m sure you mean noona…..” I laughed nervously and even Namjoon looked surprised and Jungkook merely smiled, shrugging.

“You don’t feel like a noona.” He said casually.

I merely stared at him, not sure what he meant. Namjoon laughed a little as well, moving over to lightly hug his brother.

“Yah! You’ve just met her. Isn’t it too soon to start being a brat?” He ruffled his hair playfully before turning to me.

“Come on, Hana. Come say hi to my parents.” Namjoon walked in and I rushed to follow him, pausing when I reached the doorway. I smiled at Jungkook, holding a hand out slowly.

“I’ve heard so much about you Jungkook, I hope we can be friends…” I said sincerely and he stared at my hand, not taking it. Instead he gave me another soft smile. Before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, making me jump .

“You don’t feel like a friend either.” He said with a shrug , before moving away, leaving me stunned on the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years later :

“Seven months? Namjoon we’re getting married in seven months! How am I supposed to plan a whole wedding , with you away from the country?” I asked desperately, watching as Namjoon sat with his head in his hands. He looked stricken, regretful and pained and I felt terrible for being unreasonable but it was impossible not to feel hurt.

“I know.. I know hana, I’m so fucking sorry. But this is such a huge opportunity and its not just me : Hoseok and Yoongi depend on me. I can’t screw things up for them too.” He whispered and I exhaled.

Namjoon had been offered a chance to produce for a very high end recording label based out of the US and they wanted him to stay there for a minimum of seven months. The offer had been a complete surprise, out of the blue and the timing couldn’t have been worse. I’d been accepted into an internship at a popular magazine and it would be impossible for me to go with him. And I was so desperate to go.

We’d never been apart for more than a few days, in the entirety of our relationship and the thought of not seeing him for months made me want to throw up.

“I’ve spoken to Jungkook. He’ll help you with all the things that have to be done. And I swear that I’ll be back at least a month before the date, alright? No matter what happens.” Namjoon said firmly. I swallowed, nodding nervously.

It was true that I didn’t like the idea of being away from Namjoon. But the thought of keeping him away from a dream that he had worked so hard for, was almost unfathomable.

Besides, Jungkook was reliable and sweet. The perfect gentleman. Especially now that he’d taken over as his father’s Executive Assistant, Jungkook was incredibly good at organizing and planning things out.

With his help, I could plan out our wedding to perfection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next five months were spent in a haze of appointments and fittings and bookings. Jungkook had arranged for a shift in my internship hours, so he and I could spend a solid four hours every day, visiting different vendors, picking out the perfect floral arrangements, napkins, brocade and what not. And for once, I found myself completely enthralled by the idea of spending money of frivolously pretty things. Whether it was the florists or the patisserie, the dress fitting or the invitations, I felt my excitement bubbling over , amazed because marrying into Namjoon’s family meant an unlimited budget and for once, I didn’t mind being extravagant.

What was more, I didn’t miss Namjoon nearly as much as I thought I would. Because deep down , I knew that he wouldn’t have enjoyed this all that much. And I would have felt guilty , dragging him everywhere.

And Jungkook was the one to thank for all of it. He picked me up everyday for an early breakfast , followed by hours of combing the streets for ideas and appointments. He was funny and enthusiastic, eager to help me in every way and I was so grateful that I couldn’t thank him enough.

“I owe you so much, Kookie. You’ve been a life saver.” I groaned, collapsing on the couch and dropping my head back against the backrest. Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on one of the Turkish ottomans and lightly grabbing my ankle, pulling my foot onto his lap. I flushed a little, still not used to how touchy he was.

Jungkook liked wrapping his arms around my waist when we were out and about, fingers fluttering up my sides or brushing hair off my face with easy familiarity. I didn’t mind. He reminded me of my little brother back in Ilsan.

Most of the people we met assumed he was the groom and Jungkook told me it would be better to keep up the ruse because wedding planners were more comfortable when couples came together and I’d agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. I missed Namjoon and I wondered if he would mind. But when I mentioned it in passing to him during one of our daily video calls, he’d merely laughed it off.

“You’re so tense, Hana. You should relax. Everything is going to be okay.” Jungkook said softly, soft fingers digging into the curve of heel before brushing the arch of my foot. I smiled when he tugged my foot close, placing it down on the firmness of his thigh.

I gazed down at him, feeling uncomfortably nervous. This whole thing seemed oddly intimate somehow and I felt the first tendrils of guilt begin to curl around my gut. I swallowed, hating myself for tainting something that was no doubt innocent. I ought to be grateful that my future brother in law was this kind to me.

“I know. Thank you. I just miss him sometimes.” I said softly. The fingers stilled on my foot.

“Only sometimes?” He teased, eyes narrowed and tone just a little colder and I hesitated.

“I don’t miss him when you keep me company. You help me forget that I’m doing all of this by myself.” I said honestly. Jungkook inhaled sharply, his gaze flicking to mine, holding mine with an intensity that made me balk a little.

“You mean, that?” He asked quietly and I laughed at how serious he looked.

“Of course I do. I was so sure this whole thing would be me being miserably lonely but you’ve kept me laughing and happy. I’m going to ask Namjoon to buy you something expensive and amazing when he comes back.”

“He already has something amazing. It’s the only thing I really want.” Jungkook said quietly, fingers stroking up, gently massaging my foot all the way up my calf. I groaned at how good it felt.

“Really what is it?” I asked curious.

Jungkook squeezed my knee before carefully placing my foot down , reaching for the other one.

“You’ll know soon, Hana.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, Namjoon called me exactly a month before our wedding date.

“Guess who’s leaving the God forsaken place this weekend?”

I felt warmth flood my insides, heart racing with pure joy, tears brimming over because I’d honestly resigned myself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it back on time.

“Monday i, I’ll be there. Can’t wait to kiss you, my love.” He whispered and I nodded, laughing.

Finally, Everything would be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon’s flight was due to arrive late night ,somewhere between twelve and one in the morning. I’d taken a nap in the afternoon, so I could be up to welcome him back. Jungkook arrived at around seven with Takeout and flowers.

He didn’t ring the doorbell, letting himself in with the spare key I’d given him for emergencies. I found myself scrambling for my robe because I’d taken a nice long shower and slipped on a silk negligee, short and ending just over my knees . I could feel his eyes on me as I hastily tied the sash together, flustered. The robe wasn’t long either and I felt absolutely exposed, even worse than when he’d stepped into the dressing room during my fitting, offering to help me with the zipper.

“ Jungkook, what are you doing here?” I asked nervously and he shrugged, eyes still trailing over my legs, the skin bare. I felt his gaze like a caress and some instinct told me I was in danger. I shook my head to clear it. How ridiculous.

This was Jungkook. Sweet, wonderful Jungkookie. My best friend these past few months. There was no one else I could be safer with.

“I knew you’d be excited, what with hyung coming back and all. So, I thought I’d drop by and at least make sure you’re well fed.” He grinned, holding the tae out up. I smiled and nodded, moving to get plates and glasses from the kitchen.

I heard Jungkook moving around in the living room and when I went back in , I found that he had two glasses of wine ready on the table, an expensive bottle of merlot opened nearby. I smiled a bit, shaking my head.

“What are we celebrating?” I asked curiously and he shrugged.

“Namjoon hyung is coming back right? It means I’ll be getting my amazing gift tonight.” He said softly, picking his glass up and taking a sip and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re such a child. You can’t wait for a day to get your gift?”

Jungkook hummed. He looked ethereal in the dim golden light of the apartment. Like something out of a fairytale. All dark ebony hair and porcelain skin. I wondered, again….why he never dated. He was easily one of the most beautiful humans I’d ever seen in my life. And that voice.

The voice of an angel.

“I’ve been waiting for years, Hana. I’m sick and tired of waiting.” He said softly, voice low and eyes somehow dark and I tried to hold my smile.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.” I grinned and he smiled, all teeth.

“Oh, I intend to. Thoroughly.”

I took my own glass and took a deep sip , before holding it against his.

“To no longer waiting and finally getting what we want.” I said cheerfully, thinking of the long months without Namjoon and the few hours till he would be back in my arms. Jungkook chuckled and clinked his glass against mine.

“To you, Hana.” He said simply and I blushed, surprised and flattered.

We ate the take out but just a few bites in, I felt my eyes getting heavy which was so unfair. It was barely eight. And I’d slept in the afternoon. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be up till Namjoon came home.

“You alright, love?” Jungkook asked sweetly , getting out of his chair and making his way over when I almost knocked the glass of water over, fingers trembling. I pouted, even as his fingers curled over my shoulders, gripping lightly.

“Why am I so drowsy?” I whined in desperation and he leaned down, lightly resting his chin on my shoulder.

“You need to rest, hana. Come on, let’s get you to bed…. “

Eyes heavy and limbs turning to jelly, I could barely blink as he reached down and scooped me into his arms , carrying me into the bedroom. I felt his fingers tug on the sash of my robe, a protest building up at the action but he shushed me gently.

“I’m just helping you out of this, Hana. Rest now… Namjoon hyung will be here soon and we have a long night ahead of us, you and I.”

I could feel my mind churn at that, confusion warring with apprehension because why was Jungkook inserting himself in tonight? What did he have to do with Namjoon and I ?

Sleep beckoned and I found myself slipping into the darkness before I could fully ponder on his words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up sweaty and damp , body overheated and my head foggy. I made to move and felt my heart pound when I realized my hands were tied up to the headboard. I blinked, only to be met with darkness because there was something tied around my eye as well.

“Jungkook?!” I called out panicking and there was a low chuckle.

And then a very familiar scent.

Namjoon.

I sagged in relief.

“Joon…it’s you….” I breathed out . “ Come on, do we really have to do this right away? I wanna see you…” I whispered desperately.

Fingers brushed over my ankle and I jumped.

“Namjoon?” I whispered . The bed dipped next to me, and I felt the brush of his shirt against my bare arm. It was soft and silky , familiar because I’d bought it for him for his birthday and he’d sent me a pic of him wearing it, from the airport today.

“Okay… I’ll play.” I laughed softly. “ Just untie me… I wanna touch you..”

“Sshhh…..” A finger pressed against my lip and I startled. Throat dry, I gulped.

But I didn’t say anything, biting my lips nervously as I felt him climb over me, one knee on either side of mine, fingers curling on my thighs, lips pressing against my cheek. I sighed, relishing the soft press of his lips, up and down my neck, the damp wetness of his tongue as he licked the skin right after, teeth nipping gently and then with more force.

I trembled as soft fingers tugged on my negligee tugging the fabric up and away from my body, raising it up till it pooled near my chest. I felt the tug on my panties, yanking the fabric off and then the weight of him went away, a breathy exhale that sounded both calm and somehow desperate, his body moving down to lightly hold my knees, parting my legs.

I bent my knees, spreading my thighs the way he clearly wanted me to, hearing him groan in return. He used his thumbs to gently part the damp folds of my centre and I felt my entire body shudder at the press of his tongues against the most intimate parts of me.

Choking, I could only lay there and take it, his tongue licking the slick folds, over and over again with an almost curious insistence, like he was tasting me for the first time and I could feel his body trembling on the bed as he did. I felt his teeth tug on the hardened nub, bruising hard and yet somehow almost playful and cheeky and I found myself squirming in pleasure, wetness seeping out of me .

The tip of his finger found my slit, running up and done the length of it in a slow, gentle caress, gathering the moisture there and I trembled when he reached my clit, gently rubbing circles on the little bundle before moving back down to trace my entrance. I was so wet, getting wetter by the second and I’d never wanted to be fucked so bad.

“Please…..baby… I want you ….in me…” I choked out and he chuckled, a little mischievous and unlike him.

The finger dipped in, shallow and barely in and I whimpered in desperation.

“More.. Please…. I want more.. Want you… Its been so long…”

I felt him move back at that and then he was there, right between my legs. I felt the clink of metal as he unbuckled himself, the sound of his zipper and the rustle of fabric as he pushed his trousers off. I could feel the hard muscles of his thigh against the back of mine as he scooted closer, felt the brush of his hard length against my center, the head dipping in just lightly.

He pushed forward, driving in with so much force that my entire body shuddered in shock. And in just that second, I knew, with dawning horror…….

This was not Namjoon.

I screamed, so loud my own ears rang and a palm pressed down into my mouth, forceful and unrelenting. And terrifyingly unfamiliar.

“Hana…” Jungkook’s voice near my ear made me choke on my tears, my mind splintering in shock and betrayal, body going rigid in terror as he pulled out , only to slide back in.

“Knew it would be worth it, keeping myself pure for you….” He crooned against my skin and I whimpered, wetness spilling over my eyelashes as I tried to squirm away, my mind body and soul only screaming for the man I loved.

“Don’t worry about anything ….Hyung’s in a better place now. “ Jungkook chuckled deeply and I felt my skin go ice cold at the implication. He moved his hand away and I coughed, choking.

“Jungkook….”

The blind fold came off and he kept pumping into me, hips moving erratically, no rhythm or grace and it was obvious he’d never done this before, obvious in the way he looked : blissed out and feral, eyes unfocused as he stared down at me. I felt him tremble and shake, before going still . I felt warm wetness flood my insides and bile rose, nausea making breathing difficult. He stayed on me and inside me, his body so large and immovable, heavy and suffocating over my own.

“what are you doing Jungkookie?” I sobbed out in disbelief and he glared at me.

“What does it fucking look like I’m doing? I’m taking what I fucking deserve….” He snarled. “ Two fucking years…. He doesn’t deserve you. Spends all his days and nights holed up in that studio of his with his friends….leaves you to fend for yourself. You deserve to be waited on, hand and foot… you deserve the world, hana…and he wouldn’t let you experience any of it. Fucking bastard….

“No… No.. God …no..” I choked out. It was the shirt.

He was wearing Namjoon’s shirt. And his cologne. The shirt I knew my boyfriend had been wearing today. How did he get it??

Jungkook brushed his fingers on my cheeks .

“What’s wrong baby? Are you worried about him? Wondering where he is…” He chuckled. “ I told you..he’s in a better place right now..”

“No… you’re lying..you wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t I? You know me that well , hana?” He teased.

No. No I didn’t I didn’t know him at all.

“How about this? If you marry me…. If you let me have this dream wedding with my dream girl…. “ He smirked,” If you let me love you the way you deserve , maybe I’ll take you to visit him…someday. ”

I closed my eyes.

I couldn’t process what I’d just heard… I didn’t know… if he was bluffing. What if he had actually killed-

I couldn’t believe that. I couldn’t. It would break me.

“Okay… Just…please don’t hurt him…” I whispered.

Jungkook smiled.

“Just relax Hana. Everything’s going to be okay.”

AUTHORS NOTE : THIS IS LITERALLY MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS PURELY OUT OF IDLE CURIOSITY

~~~~~~~~~~~

#YANDERE JUNGKOOK #YANDERE BTS #yandere jungkook smut #bts smut

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years ago

Text

Chloe’s Lament Part 3

She didn’t know how long she spent ruminating. What drew her out of those thoughts was the sudden shouting from behind her and the exclamation of Bustier ordering Ivan to go to the Principal’s.

…wait…

Yes! Yes, this was it! This was the start of Stoneheart, the first akuma!

This was the start of the previous Ladybug’s debut!

And it would be the beginning of her own!

Chloe was almost squirming in her seat as Ivan was ordered to go to the Principal’s office. She watched eagerly as he stormed out of the room.

Soon, she reminded herself.

Soon…

So caught up in her own plans and imagining all the things she would do with the Miraculous, she didn’t even notice when class was over until everyone was leaving.

That’s right! She had to go, too! Her Miraculous awaited!

Sure, she didn’t know where it would be, but it was supposed to show up when Stoneheart appeared, right?

All the more reason to head out now to start looking!

Or she would if it weren’t for Bustier calling her before she could get out the door.

“Chloe. Do you have a minute?”

No, she didn’t! She had a Miraculous to receive and a city to adore her!

But at Bustier’s expectant look, she turned back with a sigh and walked up to her teacher’s desk. This was just a minor and temporary obstacle. Surely her Miraculous would wait! It wasn’t like there was anyone else fit for the hero role.

Her thoughts shifted to Marinette briefly before she waved them off. Certainly not!

“Did you need something?” She asked. As much of a rush as she was to get her Miraculous, Bustier was her favorite teacher and had always been on her side. The least she could do was allow her a bit of her time.

“I wanted to check in with you before school, but it seemed you had gotten here before I did.” Bustier smiled but her expression seemed tense. “I heard there had been an argument before class started?” She asked gently.

Perfect! Just the opening she needed.

Chloe fixed a hurt expression. “It was awful! Marinette was dictating the roles for the work study and she was going to make Adrien work in the kitchen!”

There! Let’s see how that wannabe responds when the school calls her out on this!

Bustier listened to her cries and nodded in sympathy, so Chloe was sure she had this set.

“What did Adrien say?”

…except for that.

“Pardon?”

“Did Adrien say he didn’t want to work the kitchen?” Bustier asked curiously.

Did he?

“Marinette didn’t give him a chance!” She argued, though truthfully she didn’t remember how he responded at the time. She had just been focusing on calling out Marinette and getting back at her for everything.

“Did you ask Adrien what he wanted?” Bustier asked.

A long pause followed.

The teacher looked at Chloe almost pityingly.

What? What was that look for?!

“I already knew!” Chloe defended. Because she did! Of course she did! She didn’t have to ask! He was her best friend! Of course she knew him better than anyone! So of course she knew what he wanted! “I was just looking out for him!”

It was just to help him! It wasn’t about herself! Wasn’t that good? Didn’t that make her the good guy here? Where was the outrage at Marinette?

“Were you looking out for him or against Marinette?”

Silence.

Bustier sighed.

“Chloe, I know it’s difficult coming back after what happened. And I know you want your feelings to be justified.”

Because they were. Chloe’s feelings were justified, but no one could possibly understand why. She was the only one who knew about the previous reality.

“—don’t know what you were doing in her locker, though I’m sure you had a reason, you know that wasn’t the right way to go about it—”

How could she even begin to explain what had happened? Of everything she had suffered while Marinette had gotten to play the hero and deny her what was rightfully hers?

“—though I’m sure it was an accident, but the things you said before and afterwards gave everyone the wrong idea—”

No. There was no point trying to explain. Even Bustier wouldn’t get it. Especially not at a time before magic was shown to be real.

“—really tried to argue on your behalf, but you were caught on camera—”

Though it seems like she at least is still on Chloe’s side. Plus there was that time she believed Marinette cheated on the test and did whatever, so clearly her trust in the girl wasn’t that great.

“—have already talked to Marinette about it and she’s willing to try to forgive—”

Plus Bustier was a bleeding heart. She never punished her for anything. Even looking the other way with some of Chloe’s plans. Getting bi-colored hair out of the way so she could be in the class photo next to her Adrikens. Her methods to win the Class Rep position. She never even made her do anything as the Rep. Surely that meant she was on her side, right?

“—but her parents are still very upset. It took a lot of effort to get them to agree to—”

Whatever this ‘probation’ was, it wasn’t like she’d be held to it.

“—advocated to keep you in my class along with her to prove you can do it. I have faith in you—”

Chloe nodded, not really listening, her mind busy formulating new plans.

It didn’t matter that Chloe was starting at a slight disadvantage. She could work around this.

“—so I hope you can understand—”

It meant that she just had to keep under the radar as Chloe.

And complete her revenge through the mask of Ladybug.

All the better.

After all, what better irony would it be than to ruin Marinette by using her own former hero persona against her?

“—what your counselor has been telling you—”

Chloe shook her head, realizing she had missed out on what Bustier was saying. And one word in particular stuck out to her.

“Counselor?”

Bustier looked surprised at Chloe’s own surprise, then worried. “Please tell me you haven’t been skipping your sessions, Chloe. Those are part of the requirements per the agreement for you to continue coming to school here.”

Chloe blinked in shock.

“What?!”

“I was able to argue for you to stay in my classes, and the administration agreed to keep you on a probationary period, but these are part of the conditions, Chloe.” Bustier explained. She sounded particularly anxious about it, causing it to really hit Chloe just how serious this was. “You need to see your counselor weekly and you need to not antagonize any of the other students, especially Marinette. Her parents were willing to accept the arrangement and not demand a hearing with the school board to have you expelled, but there is only so much the school can accommodate.”

No…no way…

How could she start off with things this bad for her already?

Wait…was this Marinette’s fault, too? Had she framed Chloe somehow?

Bustier rested a hand on Chloe’s shoulder in some attempt at reassurance.

“I want to continue to work with you, Chloe. But please…you need to at least try.” She said more than asked, but was still pleading. “Marinette has been willing to forgive, but if her parents hear anything more about you antagonizing her, this will be your last strike and they may very well demand your expulsion. Maybe even press charges.”

“Press charges?!”

But no one had ever pressed charges against her! She had never even had a detention before! And now she was facing this immediately?

“They aren’t going to!” Bustier assured her. “Believe me, no one wants that!”

Clearly Marinette did, the evil bit—

Bustier crouched, just enough to be eye level with her.

“Chloe, things aren’t over yet. We want you to have the best chance for your future. That’s why I’m working with you this year and why you have a counselor to help you with all these feelings you’re having a hard time with. And that’s why you need to take this as a new chance and do your best with it.”

Bustier looked at her hopefully.

“Do you understand?”

Yes, she understood clearly.

She understood that this world was ridiculous, UTTERLY RIDICULOUS!

This was not at all what she had wished for and she would be having words with that little kwami as soon as she got the Miraculous!

But as she couldn’t exactly explain any of that to Bustier, she simply nodded numbly and returned to her seat. There, she looked over her notebooks. And when Bustier wasn’t focusing on her, she glanced over her phone. Really, she should have done that first thing as soon as she woke up, and she regretted not doing so sooner.

What she found was…illuminating…

Chloe had gotten it completely wrong.

It wasn’t that Marinette was a threat. Or that she was abusing her power to bully Chloe. Or just doing any of the things that Chloe had assumed she would.

It was that Chloe herself was on thin ice for a history of bullying and harassment. And this time around, as a normal girl without her former clout, people were not as inclined to overlook her behavior. Especially when the girl in question being targeted was the daughter of the Mayor and also unexpectedly well regarded (not loved, because surely it had to be the position that made people hate Chloe originally, right?)

Marinette may not have been willing to demand punishment for whatever reason--probably to look good to the peons, but the school administration, being the cronies that they were, would hardly risk the liability of something happening to the child of an official under their care.

She left the class but honestly didn’t know where she was going. She was running on autopilot at this point as everything finally started to sink in about the new reality she was in. Nothing was as she expected. If anything, it was worse!

She just needed her Miraculous! Everything would be fine when—

“Chloe?”

Speak of the devil…

She had nearly bumped into the very girl her thoughts were raging against.

“Chloe?” Marinette asked. “Are you okay?”

No! No, she wasn’t! Everything was wrong and nothing was how it was supposed to be and it was all her fault!

“What do you want?” Chloe demanded sourly.

Marinette held out a hand but hesitated. She drew back but instead pressed on verbally. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed confused earlier, and—

Yeah, cutting that nonsense off right now! If she thought pretending to care would spare her once Chloe became the Ladybug hero, she had another thing coming! And there was no way she was going to let the traitor use her to try and make herself look better by acting nice.

Chloe sharply cut her off. If Marinette hadn’t pulled her own hand back, it would have been slapped away with Chloe’s motion.

“Stop faking! There’s no way a spoiled brat who is given everything by her parents would help others! You’re just as crooked as they are!” She shouted.

Because that’s what Marinette had to be! What she always must have been! Why else would she hoard all the Miraculous to herself and not give Chloe what was hers?!

Marinette looked at Chloe almost…pityingly.

That witch was looking down on her!

“I don’t know what is upsetting you, Chloe. But I’m not responsible for your problems. You can lash out for as little as it actually makes you feel better, but I don’t have to take it.”

Don’t have to—DON’T HAVE TO—!!!

Chloe pointed at her angrily. “It’s because of you that I’m having to see a counselor!”

And Marinette sighed! Sighed! Like she was the one being put upon here! Bad enough she stole Chloe’s life, but now she was trying to act like she was the wronged party, here!

“Chloe, the alternative was a restraining order and another fine. And I’m pretty sure your dad can’t keep paying them. All things considered, I think you got off lucky.”

Chloe broke off sputtering, wanting nothing more than to put the other girl in her place but having no way to do so without revealing anything.

Marinette stared her straight on, unperturbed.

“Whatever you’re facing now is a result of your own actions.”

How dare she?! Like she knows anything!

Who was she to talk?!

“Oooh!” Chloe stomped her foot before storming off.

She’d show her!

Just wait! Once she got her Miraculous, she would tear her down in every way possible and she would enjoy it! And THEN Ladybug would be sorry! She would regret ever denying Chloe!

She just needed—

From a distance, she could hear crashing and the sound of screams echoing through the school. Many people ran past her in terror. And peeking out, she caught sight of what could only be Stoneheart rampaging through the school.

“No doubt looking for what’s-his-name.” She muttered. She hadn’t really cared to know the details of that first akuma attack aside from her involvement in it.

But still, there was an akuma, just as expected! Which signaled the first appearance of the heroes!

She smirked.

This was it! That meant she should be getting her Miraculous at any time now! She just had to wait for whoever to deliver it to her!

So she waited in place, grinning with excitement the entire time.

And waited.

And…waited.

Waiting…

…

…but nobody came.

“WHAT GIVES?!”

How was she supposed to become a hero if her power-granting jewelry didn’t show up? How did Marinette get it originally anyway? She seemed close to that old guy…wasn’t he supposed to show up by now? She hasn’t seen any old guy!

“Where is it already?!”

Well, someone had to deliver it, right? Maybe they just didn’t know where she was and left it somewhere she could find…which meant she had to be the one to search.

“I can’t believe this!”

Nothing in her locker.

“What kind of service is this anyway?”

Her desk was empty.

“Is this how you treat your hero?”

With little other options, she stormed home in a huff—not like classes would happen anyway with a giant stone monster running around. She didn’t even need to bother checking, as it was what happened last time. And if the way everyone was running around was any indication, it would no doubt be the same now.

She couldn’t afford to waste anymore time. Her moment had come! And that meant her Miraculous was here!

She flung open the door to her room.

…somewhere.

“Where is it?”

Not on her desk.

“Where is it?!”

Not on or under her bed.

“Why would they make it so hard to find?!”

Really, she should be handed it on a golden platter as everyone begs her to save them! It shouldn’t be this difficult! And she shouldn’t be having to actually have to search herself!

That’s what the servants were for! Or Sabrina.

She was determined, however! Nothing would stop her, even a messy room! So she continued her search, throwing this or that aside—they weren’t a Miraculous, they didn’t matter.

She didn’t even notice that one of the items she tossed was a remove, which landed in such a way that it turned on the nearby TV.

“Maybe it’s in my closet?” She wondered.

That made sense. After all, once she got all the Miraculous, she’d be able to switch them out as easily as a pair of shoes. She would probably need to leave them in the closet when she’s not using them.

She opened the closet doors, giving a grimace at the small space and her much more limited wardrobe. It was so much smaller than her old one!

She briefly mourned the loss of the space and all of her top-brand designers as she forced herself to dig through the various clothes and accessories.

Not this.

Not that.

Ew! She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that!

“—stone monster has been defeated!”

Chloe froze.

What?!

But she hadn’t even made her appearance yet!

Chloe spun around, nearly tripping over some shoes in her escape from the closet. All to get a closer look at the screen because clearly it was some cartoon or show or something. It was a mistake! It had to be a mistake!

But no, there was that news anchor—whatever-her-name-was. And behind her was a video of her classmate—Jim? Ryan? Whatever the rock monster had been, now back to normal—or as normal as anyone could be in THAT tacky shirt and getup!

And next to him…

A boy in black—blond but in a distinctly different getup from her Adrikens.

And a girl.

In red.

Red and black.

Ladybug!

It wasn’t the Ladybug she knew. It couldn’t be. She had just seen the now Ex-Ladybug in the halls!

The new hero’s hair was as red as her suit with a black headband—almost like a tiara. Her mask was a mix of red and black. Her suit was a black bodysuit with red accents—with her hands covered in gloves that seemed to be red and red boots that reached just above her shin. And the collar of the suit seemed to expand into a sort of dress that lengthened in the back, which when she turned appeared more like a cape that was red in color. Like a Ladybug’s shell.

And of course, the outfit was sparse with spots of differing colors, with multiple black spots on her red cape and single red dots center on her gloves and the peaks of her boots.

And looking closely—to the point she was literally pressed up against the screen, she could swear that the spots were all…in the shape of hearts, of all things? How juvenile!

But there was no mistaking it!

That was Ladybug. Maybe not the same Ladybug as before, but still the Ladybug Miraculous! It hadn’t been waiting for her like it was supposed to. It had gone to—been stolen by someone else!

They had made her tear up her room for nothing!

“—day has been saved thanks to the combined efforts of Red Queen and Cheshire! Paris’s new heroes!”

Chloe felt something crack. It may have been her TV.

Not only did this upstart steal her place as the city’s hero. And her rightful victory over the Ex-Ladybug by taking her place…

She took her title as Queen!

“How dare she?!”

Bad enough to injure her this way, but to insult her, too?!

At this point, she didn’t even know whether she was more angry with this faker or with Marinette!

She froze at that as the realization hit her…

Chloe didn’t have the Ladybug.

She wouldn’t be able to fix anything.

Her Wish had switched her with Marinette so she could make the other girl experience the burdens of her life while she could become the hero and make her suffer for her past life’s crimes.

But rather than hated, Marinette was actually well liked by their classmates and just in general. A few internet searches had pulled up Marinette using her power over others much as Chloe had in the past, so it wasn’t like they were any different! But apparently cancelling talks to make a new building for a corporate gym chain in order to keep a lame old skating rink open was good somehow! And forcing people to do backbreaking labor to plant trees on a Saturday! And that work study program at her Dad’s hotel! That was just free child labor!

The fact that Chloe had done the same thing in the previous timeline only with putting people in the suckier jobs had no bearing on this!

Chloe growled, clenching her fists and shaking at the injustice of it all.

And while Marinette was getting to live it up, meanwhile, poor Chloe herself was despised and about two steps away from a criminal record for things that weren’t even her fault! She couldn’t even enjoy the one nice thing about Marinette’s original position of becoming a hero and being popular! And any attempts to call out Marinette for her evils only made HER look like the bad guy!

Becoming Ladybug had been her only chance to fix this. She could have used it to promote herself. To tear down Marinette. Even to go back to the previous reality where she could still be Miracle Queen if nothing else! But now she didn’t even have that! Whatever stupid power in charge of this must be broken somehow!

This meant…

Marinette had won before Chloe even had a chance to do anything.

And now there was nothing Chloe could do about it.

She didn’t have the Ladybug. She was going to need a new TV. She didn’t have any of her previous life’s accommodations or riches to replace them. Nobody liked her. Her Daddykins had no influence to help her. Her Mother was still in New York.

There was only one thing she could count on, she realized as she picked up a picture frame.

“At least I always have you.”

The picture of Adrien stared back at her, flat and unblinking.

________________

Once upon a timeline, son of a fashion mogul, Adrien Agreste, was a popular model who was sad and cut off from the world, being isolated except for his only friend: daughter of the Mayor and the Style Queen, Chloe Bourgeois.

But someone didn’t like that story, so they changed it.

So once upon a timeline, son of a fashion mogul, Adrien Agreste, who only sometimes took part in his fathers business had two friends: daughter of the Mayor, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and daughter of the Style Queen, Chloe Bourgeois.

He was sad and cut off from the world for a time, true. But the current Mayor was a big believer of children having normal healthy childhoods and was not as inclined to ignore child labor laws. And her daughter, while happy to be his friend, was similarly a big believer of healthy childhoods and not as inclined to be Adrien’s only friend.

Being on good terms with the family, Sabine and Tom convinced Gabriel and Emilie to cut down on the modeling and activities for their son to let him go to school and spend time around kids his age. And being on good terms with Adrien himself, Marinette convinced him to interact with his various classmates and introduced him to a number of peers.

What followed was the beginning of beautiful—if not headache-inducing friendships.

A couple of years made all the difference. So much so that by the time that particularly Miraculous school year started, Adrien had already been going to school for a good couple of years. Long enough to become settled, join clubs, and make his own friends. Ones outside of Marinette and Chloe and their social circles.

Adrien Agreste was popular. Not the kind of popularity that comes with hundreds of fans chasing him down the street, thankfully, which he would certainly appreciate if he knew about. But rather, his popularity was the general school variety that came with a guy who was good looking and kind to everyone.

Adrien was, to put it simply, quite happy. And not at all alone.

He would play sports with Kim and Alix. Study with Max and Sabrina. Geek out over books and anime with Marc and Jean. Play games with Max and Nino. Blabber on about heroes and comics with Nathaniel and Mirelle.

And of course, there was Marinette.

Adrien would be lying if he said he never had…some feelings for Marinette.

She was the one who had helped to convince his father to let him join public school three years ago. While it may have been possible for the man to argue with an hour long presentation complete with a fifty slide PowerPoint explaining why public school was beneficial for children including statistics and psychological studies, it was substantially more difficult for him to argue with the girl’s mother when she was both the Mayor and a close enough family friend. It couldn’t be sure which of the two had been the final push that had convinced Emilie, but once she was on board, Gabriel couldn’t help but cave soon after.

Either way, Adrien was grateful to his friend.

…and a bit smitten. Not that he could tell her that. Especially the way she would stick her tongue out when she was so focused on a drawing. Or how beautiful she looked when she took charge of a project. Or how cute she was the way she would get annoyed when she’d catch him wearing the worst possible combination from his closet, which was made all the better partly because it made his Father look ready to have a coronary as well. Plus it helped that she’d drag him to her house at the first opportunity to salvage his outfit into something bearable. He didn’t have to, but he let her every time.

She was adorable like that. And at least he wasn’t alone since it seemed many of his other friends had admitted a crush on her at some point that never went anywhere. He doubted he’d be different.

After all, he was admittedly a sucker for the childhood friend to lovers trope in anime—which made him all the more bummed that they hardly ever worked out.

And since he was apparently the equivalent of an anime protagonist now if his new little companion was any indication…

He looked down at his bag, where his new little friend smirked up at him.

…yeah, he didn’t want to risk it.

Especially given some of the things the little cat-god had told him.

“What do you mean we’ve done this before?” Adrien asked, rather confused to say the least.

“Yeah, it didn’t work out last time.” The creature—Plagg, replied. Though not actually answering his question in any way.

He looked up at Adrien with a smirk.

“But things will be different this go around. We’ve made sure of it.” He then turned away, muttering darkly something Adrien couldn’t hear about some “brat” and a “surprise”.

“O…kay?” He didn’t get it, but okay?

Plagg shook his head before turning back and floating up to eye level with him. “Just change up your suit, ditch the bell, and don’t call yourself Chat Noir and things will be fine.” It told him.

“But why?” Admittedly, his first thought had been “Wild Pussycat” due to his current favorite fandom, but Chat Noir actually sounded really cool.

“Trust me, kid. It’ll help.”

And apparently it had, since he’d met his partner and they’d defeated that monster easily enough.

Plus Adrien did rather like the Wonderland theme they agreed on.

He had been excited about the adventure—what teenage boy wouldn’t be? Still, it was a relief to return to the school the next day and find everyone safe and sound.

Mostly.

Ivan admittedly wasn’t having the best time, unfortunately. He was being crowded by everyone and questioned about the incident by the time Adrien had arrived. Everyone was clearly worried and no one knew for sure what had happened. Marinette in particular was being supportive.

Chloe was…not.

“—monster!”

“He’s not a monster!” Marinette countered defensively. “He doesn’t even remember what happened!”

“He could just be saying that!” Chloe yelled, pointing at Ivan. “Once a monster, always a monster!”

“Hey, back off, Chloe.” Alya said, stepping in front of her. “It’d not like Ivan asked to become a stone golem, and besides, any damage was erased and he’s back to normal.”

Adrien sighed. He was going to have to play mediator again, wasn’t he?

“Hey, Chloe?” He asked benignly, stepping up to her. “If you’re worried he’ll transform again, maybe upsetting him isn’t a good idea? We don’t know what caused it or if it was a one time thing.”

Actually, he did know. But given what Plagg had told him about how the akumas worked, he didn’t want to risk Ivan getting reakumatized. And he couldn’t very well come out and say any of that until this Hawk Moth guy revealed himself and the city as a whole had a better idea how his powers worked.

“Of course, it—” She suddenly cut off, as if realizing something. “Whatever!”

With that, she turned and stomped off.

What was her deal?

Still, everyone else was uncertain of what else to do and with class about to start, several other classmates chose to leave as well. Soon, the previously larger crowd had only a couple people left. Adrien, for his part, figured he should step back and give Ivan some space.

Marinette took advantage of the opportunity the lack of crowd gave to push Kim forward. The taller boy began nervously apologizing while Marinette sat by Ivan as support.

Adrien sighed in relief as he walked away.

Marinette was a wonderful friend.

Chloe, on the other hand…

___________________

Speaking of Chloe, the girl in question had realized a few minutes after she had stormed off that in her anger, she hadn’t kept track of where she was going and had apparently gone the complete opposite direction of her next class.

Seriously! She knew more than anyone! They should be flocking to her for answers and instead, everyone was focusing on Kim! Or what’s his-name! Rocker boy! Sure, he was only going to be the first of many akumas, but nobody else knew that! She thought she could use that to boost her status by confronting the “threat”!

Last time, she had led the crowd by calling him out for what he had done. Yet much like many things, that had gone wrong this time as well! Instead of rallying behind her against the clear threat only she knew about, most of the people were giving her the side-eye. And of course Marinette freaking Chang had to be the one to act against her!

Really! She was the victim here and nobody even knew it! Thanks to that new Red Queen stealing her rightful place, Chloe had lost everything! And she couldn’t even TELL anyone! Now what was she supposed to do?

She growled, smacking a wall with her fist.

And now she would have to walk all the way back! And she couldn’t just skip classes for the day to make them suffer without her presence for siding against her; the school wouldn’t allow it. Which meant she would have to face everyone again. And walk in these old shoes that were murder on her poor feet!

Oh, the life of suffering she lived!

She trudged back through the hallway the way she came, taking a slightly different route—just in case the others were still where she left them. She didn’t want it to seem like she was intentionally coming back or anything. That would just be letting them think they were right.

“That was something earlier, huh?”

“Yeah. Poor Ivan.”

She paused. Up ahead was a connecting hallway that led to another path to her classroom. And she could hear voices from around the corner.

One of them was Adrikens!

She almost felt herself floating forward, her feet no longer in pain and her shoes no longer a trouble to her. Adrikens always made things better! And surely he of all people would understand her misery!

She peaked. Sure enough, there he was. Her precious friend! The only one she could count on!

But she didn’t recognize the other boy with him. It wasn’t Nino. She couldn’t not know if it was him due to how his name was engraved upon her psyche with how much Adrikens would talk about him.

The other boy grumbled, though Chloe barely took notice of what he had to say. Not until he started talking about her.

“I can’t believe Chloe. Well, I can, because that’s nothing new for her. What a…”

Gasp! How rude! Who did he think he was? He was luck he cut off or she would have had his parents’ jobs!

She winced, remembering that she couldn’t do that anymore.

…well, she’d cause him some repercussions, anyway.

But unaware of her, he kept going, turning to Adrien.

“Dude, why do you even put up with her?” The loser asked.

How rude! She wasn’t someone he had to ‘put up with’, she was a joy to be around! Of course her Adrikens adored her! And he would no doubt admonish that low class nobody for talking about her in such a way!

‘Because I’m his best friend,’ Chloe thought smugly.

Of course Adrien would be on her side.

Because she was his best friend.

Because they were each other’s only friends for years.

Because they’re the only ones who understand each other.

Because even if everything else changed, that was one thing that would remain true.

He would never abandon her.

Chloe Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste—them against the world!

“Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.”

She froze.

"I mean, we used to be friends, but that was more because her parents were friends with mine. Right now her Mom is my Dad's business associate and I kind of have to be nice to her or she could complain or something."

"Oh yeah. She did threaten to run to 'Daddy' earlier. Stands to reason she'd use 'Mommy' the same. But do you really think her Mom would care that much?"

"I don't want to risk it. Being in school the past three years has been like a dream. The last thing I want is to lose it all because Chloe threw a tantrum."

He sighed.

“Besides, I do feel bad for her. I mean…she’s alienated pretty much everyone she’s ever been in a class with and I’m the only one who will even talk to her.”

“The only one who can, you mean.” The other said snarkily. “She insults anyone else who even looks at her.”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t have any friends. And it’s just…sad.”

“Dude, that’s not your fault.”

“I know that now. She was always a...” He hesitated for a moment before spitting it out, “well...a brat. I’m honestly not sure I ever liked her. I just hung out with her at the time because she was the first kid my age to interact with and I was told to. Back then, I thought that was enough to make us friends. That that was what friendship was supposed to be.”

“Thank God for Mari and her mom.”

“Tell me about it!”

His words were like a blade piercing her heart from behind.

One after another, they stabbed her.

And he—her only friend, completely unaware, he just kept going.

“When we were kids, neither of us knew better. But while I grew up, she…didn’t.”

That…that wasn’t right!

None of that was right!

Adrien sighed. “And I really wish she would.”

Chloe didn’t even realize she had lost all feeling in her legs until she had slumped to the ground.

He…

He really thought that?

About her?

“I try to step in and help her when I can. Partly because I feel obligated to since we were close once, but mostly because I know she would just make things worse if I didn’t. I mean, you know what she did with Mari when she got mad. But honestly…I’m really tired of it. Of having to pacify her, the way she grabs me, her stupid ‘Adrikens’ nickname, and just…dealing with her. All of it.”

He sighed again.

“But who knows how much worse she’d be otherwise?”

“Dude, you’re not some sacrificial lamb here.” The other boy assured him. “And besides, you heard, didn’t you? Chloe’s been reprimanded and she’s only still in school on a trial period. If she does anything and people complain, she’ll be out of here and you won’t have to deal with her anymore.”

A weak chuckle. Her Adrikens—Adrien actually laughed at that.

“I’d feel bad if I said I was looking forward to it.”

The other boy laughed at that. “Y’know, I had a dream last night where she announced she was leaving Paris.”

“Sounds like a good dream.” Adrien replied, not even missing a beat.

“I know! I almost didn’t want to wake up!”

The two left, with Adrien just…continuing to chat and laugh and joke like they were best friends and like they weren’t making fun of Chloe who was supposed to be his best friend whose side he was supposed to be on no matter what…

But…

Where was he just then? Where was his defense of her? Where was his declaration that he was still her friend no matter what? Where was his insistence that she wasn’t as bad as people think? Where was his lecture of that boy for speaking ill of her? Where was his disappointment of the others for being mean and wanting her gone? Where was his promise?

...Where was her Adrien?

That was what finally broke through.

Chloe sobbed.

It wasn’t just Adrien. That was simply the last straw.

Marinette had Chloe’s life and was apparently happier than she ever was in the previous life—happier than Chloe had been even! Someone else was the Ladybug hero and had taken her title as ‘Queen’. She didn’t have a Miraculous. She didn’t have Pollen. Her Father wasn’t the Mayor. Her Mother was still in New York. And everything was…

Everything that had made Chloe Bourgeois who she was was gone.

What was she, after all?

Chloe Bourgeois was rich.

She was the Daughter of the Mayor.

She was the Princess of Paris.

Without that…who was she?

Who was this new Chloe Bourgeois she had become?

She wasn’t feared. She wasn’t respected. She wasn't in any way liked. She was an annoyance at best. An irritant. A bug to them. Someone to be avoided.

And in Adrien’s case…pitied.

That, more than anything, was what hurt the most.

Adrien didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her.

And maybe…

“…I hate you, Chloe.”

…he never had.

…

“You’re the sort of person who is never satisfied with anything.”

…did he ever care about her at all?

“Whatever you do. Whatever world you create. My feelings won’t change.”

Had he…been trying to warn her?

“It won’t be real, Chloe. Whatever we had…whatever you would call it is already gone.”

She slowly pulled herself up. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going at this point, but she didn’t want to be there anymore. She was deaf to everything but the pounding of her own heart and the memory of Adrien’s words.

“Chloe, you don’t know what friends are!”

…

“And I didn’t know better before because I only ever had you. But since I’ve started school, I’ve learned what friendship is!”

…

“I wish I had learned it sooner.”

Well…it looked like he had gotten his wish. Seeing him now, surrounded by people in a way he had never been before. Not even just Nino this time, but others from other classes.

He looked happy.

…had he ever looked that happy when he was with her?

She bit her lip.

That liar.

He…he was a traitor!

Just like Ladybug!

Just like all of them!

She looked up to the sound of cheers.

From the angle she was at, she could see her classmates gathered close to the doorway of the classroom. Apparently rocker boy and rainbow-haired girl were together now? Oh yeah, that had happened around this time like time, hadn’t it? Wasn’t he supposed to have been akumatized a second time first, though?

It didn’t seem to matter. They were holding hands. And the others were going on about how great it was. And Adrien was congratulating them just as much as everyone else. And they were all just so damn happy.

And there was Marinette, in the middle of it all. Smiling.

And not once did she even look at her.

Chloe could only watch on as they ignored her. As Marinette brushed her off like it didn’t matter while she got to carry on with what had been Chloe’s life. Still kind. Still friendly. Still popular. And somehow even more despicably perfect than before now that she had taken Chloe’s place.

All that…having everything that made Chloe who she was, and somehow, she was still so…disgustingly happy.

Not despised. Not unloved. Not a hateful, selfish person. Not…anything like Chloe.

“Marinette is a better Ladybug—a better person than you ever will be. And that’s because she chooses to be kind! Regardless of the circumstances!”

…

“Even if your positions were switched, that wouldn’t change.”

It…

It wasn’t fair.

IT WASN’T FAIR!

_________________________

The Universe is a director. It doesn’t alter the script, merely the parts. When someone demands a different role, the most it will do is swap people around to put them in places that best fulfill the demand. And if the ones who saw fit to make demands didn’t like their new roles...well...

The Universe didn’t particularly like critics.

So the critic wanted the baker girl’s life? That was fine.

After all, the critic’s father had two roles.

One for two. Two in one.

Why not split the difference and see what comes of it?

At least, that was what it figured. And it turned out pretty well in its not so humble opinion.

The city had a steadfast leader. The hotel had a caring manager. The bakery had a decent owner. The heroes were both the same and different. The sad male lead would get to display greater range. The former hero got to take a break after carrying the entire production previously. And the invisible actor would get a chance to step out of a shadow and finally shine.

And if the little critic didn’t like it, maybe she shouldn’t have complained?

Some people just didn’t appreciate what they were given.

The Universe nodded to itself and turned its attention to the new heroic duo, curious as to what would come of this new dynamic.

It was getting bored of the old love square anyway...

#chloe's lament #chloe salt #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #plagg #kwami swap #sabrina raincomprix #sabrina deserves better #marinette gets a break #chloe has a hard time #Be Careful What You Wish For #chloe is not careful #chloe is a horrible person #miracle queen

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slashbitch2 · 4 years ago

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Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here? It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

#lorraine warren x reader #vera farmiga x reader #lorraine warren

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Yellow | Draco Malfoy

Hey lovelies, here’s another Draco. I don’t know why but right now he’s all I have the motivation to write for. I hope you don’t mind!

Description: Y/n and Draco falling in love with the color yellow and each other

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: It’s a little angsty, a little smutty, very fluffy, and way too long

Word count: 6k

Tags: FLUFF, angst at times, the ending hints at smut

Tag list: @fashionably-crying , @draconisxcaput

Yes, I’m using this gif again, sue me

Yellow. Sunshine, flowers, freshly pressed gold. Everything that’s eternally happy and pure and good.

Yellow. Sickness, potions gone bad, poison. Bile when there’s nothing left to throw up.

Yellow. Kissing, and fighting, and doing. The color of life itself.

The color of the pumpkins growing in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse and of her nails as she writes notes on information long ingrained in her memory.

“Can anyone tell me the name for what is in front of you all right now?” Professor Sprout’s jolly voice rings through the greenhouse and you can’t help but smile as you raise your hand.

Sprout nods at you, a smile on her face too, knowing quite well that you’ll tell her what she wanted to hear and more.

“It’s a cucurbita pepo, also known as a pumpkin. They’re grown during the summer months and then harvested in autumn, just in time for the muggle celebration of Halloween. They are used in cooking quite often however they are rich in tryptophan, which is converted to serotonin upon consumption, which in turn causes fatigue. Thus cucurbita pepo seeds are used in certain forms of the sleeping draught potion. It’s also why we get sleepy after eating pumpkin pie.”

You giggle at the end of your spiel and the sound trickles through the greenhouse and wraps around a certain blonde at the back of the class who is furiously writing down everything you just said. You don’t notice, though, you’re too busy revelling in Sprout’s approving nod. She begins speaking in depth about the facts you shared and you hurry to write them in your journal, the one that you keep specifically for herbology. It’s filled with plants of all kinds, each with detailed notes and sketches that you drew yourself.

When you flip to your page on pumpkins you begin adding notes you don’t have, just a few details here and there. You aren’t gifted in every subject, not like Hermione, but you are proud to admit that you excel in herbology and know that you will keep the notes you have been working on for many years to come. You brush your sunshine nails across the page as Sprout rattles on about the antioxidants and other nutrients found in Pumpkins. Vitamin A, magnesium, potassium. You already have it all written down.

“Those are well done,” you’re startled by a voice emanating from over your shoulder, “no wonder you’re so good at this class. Your notes are amazing.”

You’re shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind you, towering over you and peering curiously at the sketches that you made of some pumpkins a few days earlier. You know the Hufflepuffs share this class with the Slytherins but usually your groups don’t mix. As in they never do. It’s well known throughout the school that Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs. A lot. So it’s only natural that you, one of the softest Hufflepuffs in the school, cower slightly in the presence of the prince of the Slytherins.

“Oh, um,” you shuffle closer to the table, putting some space between you and him, “thank you, Draco.”

His eyes widen when you say his name and the entire class goes silent. Even professor Sprout ducks her head, stopping her rambling and busying herself with watering a patch of sunflowers behind her. Regret immediately floods your system and you feel slightly sick. Every eye in the class is on you and him, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. You almost expect him to slap you by the way everyone is acting. You curl into yourself, pulling your hands into your sleeves. You’re undeniably terrified.

What happens next though astounds everyone, most of all you. Draco doesn’t quite smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and he reaches his hand out, curling his fingers around your shoulder gently. Your head springs up at the contact, fuzzy and spinning. What is he doing?

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at the sound of your name coming from his lips. Since when does he know who you are?

He lets go of your shoulder and looks around the greenhouse, as if noticing the eyes on the two of you for the first time, “what are you all staring at? Mind your own bloody business.”

And just like that the sound and bustle of the greenhouse returns to normal, if not a little more forced and with a few more whispers than before. He nods at you, your entire face burning this time, and walks back to his spot, falling into conversation with his housemates like nothing had happened.

You run a hand through your hair before returning to your notes, trying to fend off the peppermint scent still clinging to your jumper.

The color of the potion that earns his house ten extra points.

You have never been good at potions class. You can try to blame it on Professor Snape, claim that he has it out for you and is the reason all your potions bubble a puke green and smell of death, but that would just be avoiding the truth. The horrible, disheartening, and cruel truth that is, quite simply, that you are absolute garbage at brewing potions.

Draco, on the other hand, is the best chemist Hogwarts has seen in years it seems. Even better than local witch prodigy Hermione Granger. Again, you could blame it on your professor. You could argue that since Snape was also a Slytherin that he gives special favor to Draco. But that wouldn’t be fair to him.

You pout from your seat in potions class, watching the clock tick too slowly and too quickly at the same time. It’s much too slow given that this is your last class of the day and dinner is calling your name. It is, however, much too quick as you only have forty minutes left to complete the dreaded invisibility potion. In front of you lay the ingredients, taunting you relentlessly. The invisibility potion is among one of the more difficult potions you have to master before the end of year exam and, so far, you’ve had no luck.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy. This is the fifth time you’ve completed your potion first and without error. ten points,” at the sound of Snape’s voice, and the cheering from Draco’s housemates, your head slumps, “perhaps now in your spare time you could help Miss. y/l/n. She seems to be having,” he clicks his tongue sharply, “difficulty.”

Your head snaps up, turning to face the blonde boy across the room, your cheeks fiery. His blue eyes, in turn, are wide, much like your own. You’re a deer caught in the headlights of the freight train that is Draco Malfoy. You’re frozen at the thought of having to speak to him and of having him answer you. As he starts to get up, textbooks in tow, you finally thaw. You think back to the greenhouse, and his hand on your shoulder, and feel the color draining from your face.

“Professor that isn’t necessary, I can-”

Snape silences you with a flick of his wrist, “you can fail on your own instead of take help when it’s offered?”

You just lower your head, mumbling a “no, sir” and pretending to search your textbook. Your heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde boy joins you. He places his own textbook next to yours, his long fingers skimming the pages. Your eyes are drawn to the rings on his fingers and you want to ask him about them but the two of you aren’t close like that and you don’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. The same peppermint scent floats around you, stronger this time. You swallow tensely, feeling once more the eyes of your peers.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble more into your cauldron than to him, “I know you don’t want to help me. You can just pretend if you want and I’ll figure out this mess myself.”

You stare at the bubbling, black potion and hold back the nausea. It is very much not the sunshine yellow that it’s supposed to be. You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears. You begin crushing chameleon scales in silence. You can feel his stare on the side of your face, searing into your cheekbone. You do your best to stay focussed but you can barely concentrate under the weight of his gaze. Being this close to the Slytherin boy still makes you nervous. What kind of nervousness, that is though, you aren’t so sure.

You’re startled when he takes the ingredients from your hands, his fingers brushing yours lightly, “I never said I didn’t want to help you.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile, one that makes his eyes widen and his fingers clench. That’s all it takes for the two of you to begin fixing your botched potion. You work side by side, silently except for when he asks you to hand him some ingredients. It’s hypnotic, watching him take what you ruined and make it all better. You feel almost special for a moment before you shake your head slightly, clearing the silly thought. You don’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, his lips slightly turned as he notes how flustered you are.

By the end of the class your potion is it’s proper sunshine yellow again and you feel entirely relieved. Although you can’t help but worry about tomorrow's class and how you’ll have to do it all over again.

As if reading your mind Draco turns to you, his hand on your book preventing you from darting away, “do you want to be partners?”

Oh boy.

The color of the scarf she wraps around him when she finds him asleep in the courtyard.

It’s mid October and the days have already begun getting shorter. The air is crisp and stings your ears as you walk through the courtyard, admiring the changing leaves during your spare period. You’re the only person there, the chill in the air having deterred the other students from crowding the benches and tree stumps. You don’t mind. You needed a little bit of quiet today.

You’ve been a little out of it all week. Some Slytherins had been making your life a little hard, goading you in the hallways and talking loudly about you whenever you were in ear shot. You have no doubt that it’s about Draco helping you in potions. You don’t talk to him outside of class. Merlin, you barely speak to him in class. You just copy his notes and let him guide you through the potions. You definitely don’t deserve the torment but you can’t do anything about it so you’ve just been trying your best to ignore it.

You take a corner, rounding a rather large oak tree before you suddenly halt. You come inches away from a boy slumped against the base of the tree. His eyes are shut and soft snores fall from his gaped mouth. Upon further inspection, that is noting his green and silver jumper and white blonde hair, you realize that it’s Draco. Your pulse picks up as soon as you see him, your eyes taking in the school books scattered around him. He must have been studying, or trying to at least.

Your heart aches for him. You wonder what on earth could have possibly made him exhausted enough to fall asleep in the freezing courtyard. As if on cue, the wind picks up and you ring your hands together to create some heat. You move around him quickly, closing his textbooks and piling them next to his bag. You put the cap on his ink bottle and tuck his quill next to it and the books.

You step away from him. You don’t want him to wake up and have him find you hovering over him. For just a second, though, you admire how peaceful he looks while he’s sleeping. Usually his forehead is creased and his lips pursed. Right now, however, he’s relaxed. He looks his age for once: seventeen and alive. Alive, just asleep. You sigh as you look at the boy, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

As you go to walk away, you take one last look at his face. Your heart pangs again at his rosy nose and cheeks. His ears are also a bright red, bitten from the cold and definitely painful. You don’t think before you act, you just take the grey and yellow scarf from around your neck and carefully wrap it around his. You make sure it covers his ears and nose, sofly pulling the ends to wrap around his hands as well.

You take one last look at him. You don’t know what comes over you but you lean down and press a soft kiss to his hair. He smells like green apples today and your heart aches more than ever.

The color of the first snitch he caught as captain and the color of her sweater from the front row.

It’s the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you’re more excited than you can say. There have been rumours spreading that Slytherin has a new captain and everyone has been dying to know who. They’ve kept it under wraps, no doubt wanting to stun Gryffindor during the match. The stands around you howl in anticipation, practically vibrating from all the voices speaking at once.

The wind whips around your ears, loud and bone chilling, and you think for a moment to the scarf you left with Draco. You blow in your hands, warming them before wrapping them around your ears. Hogwarts really needs to work on bettering the stands or at least accommodate them for the colder months.

You’re with a few of your friends, each one of you more high on adrenaline than the last. You stand in your bright yellow jumper at the front of the stands, gripping the railing and watching the field for any signs of movement. You’re more excited to see the Slytherin team than anyone else. Perhaps that’s because Draco has been on the team since second year and you now get to stare at him for an entire game, uninterrupted. You shake your head quickly. Where did that come from?

“Y/n, where’s your scarf? It’s freezing out here!” you turn to your best friend, Luna, and give her a small smile, your cheeks red but not from the cold.

Luna has a lion hat on her head and you can’t help but giggle. It’s definitely protecting her from the cold.

“Someone needed it more than I did,” you rub your hands together again.

She smiles at you like she knows you gave it to Draco but that would be impossible. She pulls you into her side, letting you share her body heat again. You speak a little about the upcoming match but ultimately end up doing more teeth chattering than talking. Soon there are trumpets blaring and you can’t stop yourself from leaning against the railing of the bleachers once more, your heart pounding in your chest.

Everyone holds their breath, the only sound throughout the stadium is the howling wind. Your head pounds, not from a headache but from the blood rushing through your body, electrified. You grip the railing right, the cold of the metal stinging your fingertips. The hairs on the back of your neck raise instinctively. They’re so close, you can feel it in your bones.

You blink and the next thing you know the sky is streaked with green, smoke billowing around the players who fly in a tight ‘V’ formation. You squint your eyes, just like every other student and professor around you, trying to make out who is leading the pack. When you catch a glimpse of his white blonde hair your mouth drops. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re cheering like mad. The wind picks up your hair, whipping it around your face as you throw your hands up and scream like you don’t have a care in the world for what anybody else thinks of you. And you don’t, not right now while the boy you think you’re falling for has just been announced as the new Slytherin captain.

Before you know it Luna has joined in, screaming with you, not for the sake of Draco but because you look like you’re having fun for the first time in weeks. She grabs your hand, waving your arms in the air and shouting into the wind. With the two of you screaming together it’s just enough for Draco to hear over the wind. He turns his head, his eyes easily pulling your yellow jumper from the sea of blue around you. He smirks and your heart stops. Before you can even begin to process the glint in his eyes he’s in front of you, hovering over the railing on a broom that looks like it costs more than your life. He’s biting back a cheeky smile.

You let go of Luna’s hand, stepping towards him, “Draco, you made captain!”

You don’t know where you gained the sudden courage to talk to him like you’re friends but right now you don’t care. All you can see is the boy on the broom, smiling at you like you’ve never seen him smile before. The stands around you roar but you can’t hear them. They don’t exist, not right now at least.

“You know it, pumpkin,” your heart stops, you mouth gaping at his casual use of a nickname, and he laughs, a real and absolutely mind melting laugh, “I can’t stay but I got something for you. I noticed you look a little chilly.”

He pulls the green and silver scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around yours but keeping hold of the two ends. The stands fall silent but it doesn’t matter, you still can’t see or hear anything but Draco. He tugs on the ends of the scarf, bringing your face inches away from his own. You almost think he’s going to kiss you for a moment. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for him to kiss you right now. Anything, you would give absolutely anything. Instead, though, he leans down and rubs his nose against yours and you giggle easily.

He lets go of the scarf, flying off to start the game but not before turning around and shouting, “wish me luck, pumpkin!”

You giggle again, your face flushing, “you don’t need luck, Draco!”

He winks and flies to meet his teammates. The game is fast paced and intense. Your eyes stay glued to him the entire time. His nickname wraps around every part of you, his voice echoing in your ears, warming you better than any scarf. You aren’t at all surprised when he catches the golden snitch. No one in the stands cheers louder than you do.

The color of the bruises on his cheekbone and his knuckles and on Zabini’s fucking stomach.

Your back is pressed against the stoney wall of the castle, his chest almost touching yours. You’re backed into the corner, not daring to even breathe. His breath is hot on your face and you cringe backwards, your head cracking against the hard surface behind you.

Blaise Zabini pushes you closer to the wall, if that’s even possible, and you feel like an animal, trapped and frantic, “who do you think you are, puff?”

“I-,” you glance around his head, looking anywhere but his murderous eyes, “what are you talking about?”

That is clearly not the answer he is looking for, practically growling in your face, “what did you do to Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” you cower away from him, your blood turning cold at his accusatory tone.

You squeeze your eyes shut. If he’s going to hit you, you don’t want to see his fists before they land on you. Tears drip down your face relentlessly and you don’t care. They aren’t going to change anything. Blaise Zabini hates you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your mind goes immediately to Draco, something that doesn’t shock you anymore. All you think about these days is him.

Blaise’s breath smells like liquorice and death as he gets up in your face, “stay away from him, y/l/n, or you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

Just like that, Blaise isn’t touching you anymore. The cold air of the castle wraps around you and you snap your eyes open, watching his retreating form stalk out of the hidden hallway he dragged you into. You sag against the brick behind you, finally letting the full on sobs that you had been holding in rise to the surface. You collapse, sliding down the stone, not caring as it scrapes and rips your shirt as you do so. You curl into a ball, letting all the pain from the last few weeks consume you.

You get lost in the memories. You see Pansy pushing you down the steps outside of the great hall and Crabbe lacing your soup with a puking potion. You hear all the insults and slurs that have been thrown at you ever since Draco complimented you in the greenhouse and it stings. Your chest and throat and wrists burn and you grip your hair in your fists, hoping that if you just tug hard enough then you can make every bad word said to you and every bruise disappear. Of course you can’t, but if you don’t try then you might lose yourself right here, right now. Well, more than you already are that is.

No matter how hard you tug, you can’t stop the cries from spilling out of your mouth. They mask the footsteps pounding towards you. You slam your fists into the marble floor repeatedly, your palms bruising. Your blood rushes through your ears, muffling the sounds of the castle and everyone in them. You hear your name being called but it sounds like whoever is shouting is underwater. Are they shouting, though, or are you just losing your mind? You hear your name again and you scream. You just want the voices to stop. Please, someone make them stop.

Gentle hands grab your fists before you can do any more damage to yourself, pulling you into a chest and wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders, “y/n, what’s going on? What happened?”

Draco’s voice is panicked. That’s the only word for it. He sounds absolutely terrified. His voice soothes you for a moment but soon you’re pushing against his chest, Blaise’s words in your ears again. Your palms collide with his chest as you shove him with all strength you have. It isn’t enough. Of course you aren’t strong enough to knock away a quidditch captain. His green apple scent clings to you, wrapped in his arms, and you cry harder. You clutch his shirt in your hands now, clinging to him for dear life. You cry out his name and his heart shatters.

“Y/n please, pumpkin, tell me what happened,” he kisses your hair hard, like he’s hoping it’ll magically calm you down.

And it does, sort of, but only when he trails kisses down the sides of your face and along your cheekbones as well. His lips are like a gift from the heavens, working quickly and easily to draw your attention from your showdown with Blaise and place it on him, and him alone. Soon your sobs have stopped completely. You’re still crying but you can breathe and that’s more than you would have been able to do on your own. When you finally wrap your arms around his neck he stops, pulling his head back to look into your eyes.

You swallow hard when you see his face, more importantly the tears slowly trailing down his creamy skin, “I’m sorry, Draco, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Stop,” he shushes and runs his hand up and down your back, trying not to grimace when his fingers slide over the rips in your shirt, “I’m just glad I found you. Now tell me what happened so I can’t beat up whoever made you so upset.”

You want to chuckle, because you know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t, because you also know that when you tell him he’ll probably push you away too. You tug your lip between your teeth, looking over his shoulder and then back at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t look at him while you say it. You can’t see his face when he drops you.

“I don’t think you want to beat up Blaise, Draco.”

He lets go of you. Of course he lets go of you. Your veins sting as the cold air rushes around you again. You clench your fingers into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Your throat aches, like you’ve been poisoned and the antidote is walking away. You open your eyes to Draco at the end of the hall, just about to turn the corner. You do your best to choke back the sobs again but you can’t and even if you could what would be the point? He clearly already thinks you’re pathetic so honestly why bother anymore? You need to just let it all out.

When you do though, cry that is, he stops, his shoulders and back going rigid as he listens. He turns quickly and his eyes widen when he sees you. You take a step back, gripping your shirt, or what’s left of it, and smoothing the material beneath your fingers, doing your best to keep it together. This was the final straw, the last kick to a foundation that has already been crumbling, and you’re just waiting for everything to come caving in now so it can take you with it.

You don’t realise that your eyes are closed until there are hands on your body and you’re forced to open them again, “Draco, what are you doing-”

He smashes his lips against yours, fast and hard and unrelenting. He tastes like peppermint and desperation and, by god, does it breathe a new life into you that you cling to. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down exactly where you had. His hands tangle through your hair, tilting your head slightly and tugging. You can feel his rings against your scalp and it’s the epitome of bliss. You have to to grab his cloak to keep from falling over, your entire body clay in his hands. He pulls back, barely so but in any way it’s still too far.

His lips brush yours as he speaks, his fingers massaging your scalp slightly, “I’ll be back, pumpkin, I promise,” he kisses you hard one more time, “but I really need to go beat Zabini into next month now.”

The color of the fireplace they fall asleep beside on Christmas Eve.

Your dorm is dreadfully empty and you feel a little bit alone, even if it’s only for a week or so. Your parents are renovating the house and decided it was best if you spend the holidays in a place that isn’t covered in dust and smells like paint. You know it’s for the best, and that you more than likely would have been miserable, but the Hufflepuff common room just isn’t the same without it’s usual life.

You pull a sweater over your head, grabbing your notebook before heading out to breakfast. The corridors are empty and it’s eerie, the only other faces being the ones held in frames. They smile at you as you pass and you wave politely, hurrying to the great hall.

When you step through the grand doors you finally see some real people, but not many. You see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table and a few familiar faces in the Ravenclaw section, but none you know enough to join. You sigh, tucking your hair behind your ears. This is going to be a long week. As you turn to the Hufflepuff table, however, your eyes skim over a familiar blonde head buried in today’s paper. Your heart races as you switch courses, heading straight to the Slytherin table and trying not to lose your nerve.

You round the table, walking up behind Draco and stopping quietly. Whatever he’s reading has his full attention because he has yet to notice you. You take the moment to play with him a little.

You lean down, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering, “broomstick stocks are up three percent. That’s good I hear.”

Draco drops the paper and you giggle as he turns his face to look at you, the shock mixing with something gentler in his blue eyes. He jumps out of his seat immediately, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers through his hair and melting into his warmth. The worry you felt walking into the great hall disappears at his touch. You press your face to his neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you went home,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his lips brushing your sensitive skin.

You hold back the shiver. It takes all your willpower to not tilt your head and give him better access to your sweetest spot. You tighten your hands instinctively, forgetting they’re wrapped in his hair. You don’t mean to tug on the strands, and you almost feel bad about it, but at the noise that leaves his lips you almost do it again. It’s low and primal and, Merlin, you want to hear it again. His arms tighten around you and all the nerves in your body are painfully aware of every place his body meets yours.

And every place you wish it is but it isn’t.

You clear your throat lightly before you speak, clearing the lump but doing nothing to make your words any less breathy, “I could ask you the same thing, don’t your parents usually hold large parties during the holidays?”

His hands find your hips as you talk and the end of your sentence comes out as a mere whisper. You squeeze your eyes tighter, his touch driving you crazy in the middle of the damn dining hall. It’s not even ten yet!

“That’s exactly the reason I stayed,” his voice is strained, his hands squeeze your hips and you barely bite back the moan between your teeth, “however, pumpkin, now I see that it’s a fucking gift from Salazar himself that I did.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and meet his eyes, gasping at the sight. His pupils are blown wide and his lip is between his teeth. His hair is mused from your fingers running through it, pulling it, and it makes you want to do it again and again until he does something other than look at you like that. Like he's a starved lion and you’re his next meal. Or maybe you just want to tug until he does something about it.

He squeezes your hips again, harder than the last time, and this time you can’t hold back your moan. It’s quiet, thank Merlin, but he hears it. It wraps around him, like your scarf, and something in him snaps. Soon he’s dragging you into the hallway and you’re tripping on your feet trying to keep up with him. The few people in the great hall openly stare but, as has become your new norm, you don’t care. All you can think about is Draco and all the possibilities of where he could be taking you.

He drags you to an area of the castle you’ve never been to before: the dungeons. Your blood pumps quickly through your veins and you’re filled with adrenaline, each step feeling more like walking on a cloud than the last. His hand in yours is warm and strong, sure of himself and of you and, most importantly, that you want him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you in a way that makes you almost push him quicker down the halls. You glance around, noting the empty corridor. What is it people always say?

Fuck it.

You stop abruptly and he looks back at you again, only this time concerned. His expression doesn’t last though, probably because you push him against the wall and pull his lips to yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, your palms splayed against his flushed cheeks as you take your turn in pulling his lip between your teeth. You bite down gently and he moans into your mouth, a deep and masculine sound that makes you want to rip his clothes off right here in the middle of the hall. You press your body against his, needing to feel as much of him as you can get. Of course it isn’t enough. It never is.

He pushes back against you, clearly having enough of his passive position. He flips the two of you, pressing you deliciously into the stone behind you. His hands glide along your hips but, unlike in the great hall, they don’t stop there. No, Draco’s hands find your bare thighs and his fingers wrap around them, the cold metal of the rings biting into your soft flesh. You say a silent prayer to whoever up there was looking out for you enough to sway you to put a skirt on this morning.

His lips are still on yours and, when he all of a sudden lifts you and presses you harder against the wall with his hips, he swallows the moan that rips from your chest, matching it with an equally fierce groan. For the first time all morning he’s exactly where you need him and it’s absolutely breathtaking. You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you can get him. He doesn’t protest, rolling his hips against you and edging your vision with stars.

“Draco, common room. Now,” even as you say it your hands are on his shirt, already working at undoing it.

He wastes no time, rushing down the stairs with you still in his arms, still working on the buttons. He breathlessly murmurs the password before pushing through the door. You grab his face again, hungrily pulling his mouth to yours again as he sets you on a table. His hands find the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head before tossing it aside. You finish opening the last button quickly, pulling his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it as well. You don’t think twice about letting it hit the ground.

You look back to him and feel breathless, the wild look in his eyes mixing with something so heart wrenchingly soft. His hands smooth up your exposed back, igniting your skin with a fire you’ve never felt before. He leans his face into your neck again, his lips finding where your shoulder and neck meet and pulling your skin between his teeth. The only thing you can think to push past your lips is his name, crying out into the room lit only by some embers in the grand fireplace.

“What do you want, pumpkin. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You push him back slightly so you can look into his mesmerising eyes, “I want you to make love to me on every surface in this room.”

And he does just that.

Yellow. The color they fell madly in love to.

#draco malfoy #Draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hufflepuff #slytherin #slytherpuff

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breathings-of-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--” 

The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

“Hello, Levi.”  

~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.  

Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.  

To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.  

“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”  

“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).” 

The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--” 

“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.

 He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.” 

He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.  

You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  

“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

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