#and much to mine and their surprise i just sat there dumbfounded because apparently nothing came to my mind lol

[bookwormstarwarsfan]

I'm not joking when I'm saying my city is just a continuous alcohol festival.

[basicjetsetter]

The Rise of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Language, Adult Themes, Violence, +18 Smut (If you are under age, please do not read this).

♢ Word Count: 7.2k

☆ A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away. This is such an indulgent mess, I love it to pieces. If you haven’t read The Fall yet, I suggest you read it before you get to this part. It takes a while to setup, but I promise it’ll be worth it.  Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading! (P.S. I like these two characters so much, I might just write some more moments for them).

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

You’re not a great poker player.

In fact, compared to Peter and even Rumlow, your skills are subpar at best. The idea of betting everything on chance rankled the very fibers of your being, and you never could quite remember which hands beat which. But you were excellent at reading people.

It’s how you became New York’s best attorney. That, and because you were sharper than most people assumed you were.

Exhibit A: Rumlow.

You have to give it to him, though. He was initially difficult to read.

Earlier in the game, you tried to gauge his tells as he demolished Peter. Everyone reacts when they have a good or bad hand, whether they’re aware of it or not. As an attorney, you study your clients, plaintiffs, and sometimes the theoretically impartial jury for their tells—how they react to damning information, or rather, how they choose not to react.

The truth is in their eyes. The way they hunch their shoulders. Touch their face. Purse their lips. Breathe. Everything is a tell.

Rumlow’s whole personality screams dominant knowing, and he strategizes that way. Like he’s seen your hand before you even pick up the cards.

He plays too smart. And when he’s drunk, it becomes all the more apparent.

The way he rubbed his bottom lip before bargaining the final bet, slow and methodical, sealed the game against him. It’s not much to go off of for some, but for you, it’s more than enough. It’s a nervous habit—the movement confirming that his hand isn’t crap, but it isn’t the best, either.

You glimpsed down at your hand, then back up to Rumlow with a pleasant expression.

No, you aren’t a good poker player. But Peter is.

“Save your time, sweetheart. Let’s just get this over with,” said Rumlow, leaning back in his chair. It creaked under his muscular weight. “Fold.”

You arched an eyebrow, then crossed one leg over the other, causing the hem of your dress to ride up and show a decent amount of skin. “Don’t I get to place a bet of my own? You know, just in case my hand is better.”

Rumlow’s eyes predictably feasted on your exposed skin before he dragged them back up to your face. “What makes you think your hand is gonna be better than mine?”

“Indulge me, Brock,” you nearly purred, internally gagging as Rumlow’s breathing became labored. “If you know your hand is better, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just want to have a little fun.” 

Part of you is grateful that Peter is handcuffed in the back of a police car, not here to witness your attempt at seduction. You needed to do it while Rumlow is still drunk enough to fall for it.

Rumlow contemplated your words for a split second, eyes dipping down once more to relish the sight of your skin while his thumb repeatedly ran over the top of his cards. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

He finally said, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

Saccharine venom oozed into your words as you held a charming smile. “When I win, you’re going to give me $20 million, all of your inventory and routes to Peter, and I want your promise that the Scorpions will no longer operate in New York. You can go be someone else’s problem.”

The smug light fizzled out of Rumlow’s eyes, and his mouth hardened into a flat line. “Not going to happen.”

“And why not?” you asked innocently. You’re having way too much fun with messing with Rumlow’s head. “What’s so different about my demand from yours?”

“You don’t think you’re asking for too much?”

You leaned forward, letting your eyes slowly roam over his face before settling on his dark eyes, loving the way it made him uneasy, then said matter-of-factly, “Not at all. If you want everything from Peter, then I want everything from you. Only seems fair. That is, of course, if you want to renegotiate your previous proposal…?”

Rumlow sat up in his chair, staring too hard into your face. Searching for a crack in your armor. He wasn’t going to find anything that wasn’t already there. You’re sincere and know next to nothing about manipulating a game of luck, and it showed all over your face, clear as day. He’s got nothing on you.

“What is this?” He looked around the room as if there were hidden cameras on the walls, looked at the clueless faces of people spectating the game.

Tony muttered, “Well, this was supposed to be a party, but I’d say we’re miles away from that—ouch!” He groaned as Pepper elbowed him in the ribs.

“What do you think this is?” you questioned him back using the same inflection.

Rumlow’s head snapped back to face you, his eyes practically pitch-black. “A fucking setup.”

“It’s just a game, Brock. That’s all it is.” You’re surprised at how serene you sound because your heart is leaping around in your chest, about ready to burst free and fly away from the excitement of it all, but you’re conscious enough to keep the surprise off your poker face. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He filled his lungs with a ragged breath, expelling it out of flared nostrils. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Strategized. “$25 million. Everything else stays the same. His routes. His connections. You.”

You nod once. “And you accept my wager?”

Rumlow begrudgingly nodded. His knuckles turned white from clenching his cards.

“On three, we show our hands,” you said and waited, giving him one last chance to object. He doesn’t; he just keeps his hawk-like stare trained on you.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

You both turn your cards over at the same time.

Rumlow’s hand shows a Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven, all clubs. Straight Flush.

Peter’s hand shows a King, Queen, Jack, Ten, and an Ace, all hearts. Royal Flush.

“Bullshit!”

Rumlow shot up from his chair, threw his cards to the floor, and snatched the gun from one of his men, aiming it at you.

Gasps filled the room, and you’re certain you heard Tony shout your name in alarm. Just as they’d done with Peter, the venue's guards raised their weapons at Rumlow and his men. 

You broke out into a fit of giggles. There were uncontrollable, bubbling from your lips and almost doubling you over. Maybe it was your nerves finally getting the best of you, or perhaps it was the dumbfounded shock on Rumlow’s face as he pulled a gun on you. Either way, you didn’t have a hope of taming them.

Rage intensified the crimson flush on Rumlow’s face. He barked out, “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

You struggled to pull it together. “Di-Did you honestly think you could beat Peter at poker, of all things? Seriously? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I knew you were dense, but geez.”

“He cheated. Ain’t no way he got that hand. Ain’t no fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying hard to stifle the giggles. “You said it yourself. Peter's a lucky son of a bitch.”

Rumlow took a minute to process the loss, eyes spacing out while the gun remained pointed at you. Your giggles died down as you sat patiently, drumming your fingers against your thigh and staring right back at the gun, uninterested. He wouldn’t shoot you. Not if he valued his life.

If Peter were here, you knew he’d be proud. Furious, yet proud.

At last, the arrogance returned to Rumlow’s smile, and he scoffed, “Congratulations, I guess. But um, I don’t really have to give you anything, you know. All bets have been word of mouth, nothing written down.”

Your smile never faltered. “Don’t do that, Brock. That isn’t how this works, and you know it. You were fully expecting Peter to hand me over to you with a nice, shiny gift bow taped to my ass and $25 million. Right? Or are you pointing a gun at me just because you feel like it?”

Rumlow shrugged with one shoulder. A hint of his anger traced his features before it faded back into an impassive mask.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you shit.”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. Be that way. But this is how it’s going to play out, regardless. You have three choices.” You ticked them off on your fingers. “One: You give me what I won and leave New York. Two: I sue your ass until you have nothing. Three: You get to deal with Peter. That last one won’t bode out too well for you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, snickering. “And what you gonna sue me for, sweetheart? Gambling?”

Your eyes firmed into a severe gaze as you spoke. “I had a nice little chat with Miss Shuri Udaku earlier.”

The dark look passed over his eyes again. A thick mask of indifference tried to hide his culpability before you could spot it, but you didn’t even need to see it in his face. The guilt in his tightened shoulder blared like a blinking neon sign.

Bullseye.

You forged on. “Now, if what Shuri told me is true, which, guessing by the look on your face, it must be, you’re in deep shit. And I’ll take an educated guess and presume she isn’t the only one you’ve…spoken with.”

You paused for him to defy your assumption. He remained silent, his jaw grinding.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you inquired with a faux mask of concern. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Rumlow’s eye twitched as he lowered the gun. Defeat heavy in his furrowed brows. “I’m gonna make you pay for this. You and him.”

“Just be sure to run me my money, first,” you said. A sly smirk curled up the corner of your mouth. “I want the whole amount by tomorrow, and I want you out of this state by the end of the week, got it?”

A snarl rumbled in his chest. “Got it.”

“Good,” you smiled brilliantly. “Now get your ass out of here. And take the Dynamic Duo with you.”

Everyone lowered their weapons as Rumlow and his two shadows stomped out of the Terrace Room. You watched their backs until they were no longer in your eyesight. It’s over. You won. A rise of applause swelled after the threat ultimately left the room, catching you off guard as you moved to retrieve Peter’s cards from the ground. You curtsied for them and offered a humbled grin.

A rush of adrenaline is humming through your veins, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You’re positive you could scale the Empire State Building without so much as a harness, just running on pure pent up energy. Maybe you should do this kind of stuff more often.

Steve was the first to come up to you, confusion laced in his blue eyes. “We’re letting him go? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“He pointed a gun at you!”

You brusquely scanned your unscathed body. “No harm, no foul, Lieutenant Rogers.”

“Jesus, you and that kid are a match made in Heaven,” Steve mumbled, shaking his head in shock.

“Wouldn’t be marrying him if we weren’t. And thank you for reminding me…” You trailed off, heading in the direction of Tony and Pepper.

You had to tell Tony the truth about you and Peter before your nerve wore off, or else you’d never find the courage to ever say it straight to his face. Even as you trudged over to him, a leaden ball of anxiety smothered your chest.

Shuri sprang at you without warning, tightly hugging you and jumping up and down as she squealed, “That was so awesome! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you said mirthfully.

“It was everything! That man’s been breathing down my neck for months about those weapons. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing him. I can’t thank you enough.” As you broke apart, she handed you an embossed card. “If Peter is interested, I would love to have a meeting with him. Maybe we could all catch lunch.”

“He is definitely interested. I’ll be sure he calls you,” you assured, beaming her a friendly smile.

She nodded in agreement then waved her goodbyes, walking away to find her companions.

Everything always falls right into place for Peter.

You shook your head in awe as you made your way over to Tony and Pepper again, this time scanning your surroundings to ensure no one else ambushed you. Once you were close enough, they both threw their arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a protective embrace. 

“We’re so glad you’re okay, sweetie,” said Pepper as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back.

“Don’t you ever pull something like that again, you hear me?” Tony chastised, his tangible relief choking up your throat. He pulled away to look into your eyes thoroughly. “I almost had a heart attack watching that. How could you just stare at the guy as he held a gun to you? You didn’t flinch or anything. I swear you’re turning into a different person right before my—”

You blurted out, “I’m marrying Peter.”

Tony blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the floodgates bursting open as you spilled everything.

“He proposed three months ago, and I said yes because I am in love with him, Tony. I am in love with Peter Parker, and I know you hate his guts because of what he does, but I don’t care. And…” you stopped, sucking in a deep breath to steady your trembling words. “And I don’t care if me loving him means you hating me. You’re like a father to me, and I respect you, but I won’t continue to let you badger me about being with Peter.”

Tony interjected, “Woah, woah, woah, pump the brakes. Where did you get the idea that I’d ever hate you for being with Parker?”

Both you and Pepper raised an eyebrow at Tony, a universal look that easily translated to Your words said it all.

“Alright, sure, I never really liked the kid. He’s this devious little mastermind who circumvents the law to get what he wants and somehow even got you. But I can hate him and still love you, hon.”

You coughed up a laugh partly because of your relief and partly because of how ridiculous Tony was. “I want you to tolerate him at least. That means no more bringing up the fact that I am his Personal Attorney, no more threats of arrest, and no more nicknames.”

Tony sighed and said, “Okay to the first two, but I can’t make any promises for the nicknames. Baby-faced Criminal has a nice ring to it.”

Your smile brightened. “Deal.” You stepped back into his hug, pressing your face against his shoulder and exhaling. Finally, having the truth out in the open felt like releasing a breath you held in for three long months.

You heard Tony add, “ ‘Sides, I already knew you were engaged.”

“What?” you screeched, stepping back. “What do you mean you already knew?!”

“First of all, ouch,” Tony groused as he rubbed at the ear you accidentally screamed in. “Second of all, Pepper is not really that great at hiding wedding preparations as she thinks she is. And Parker came to me about four months ago.”

You’re so shocked you forgot to breathe, involuntarily pulling in a long drag of air as it dawned on you that your tormented lungs screamed for oxygen. “What—what do you mean Peter came to you?”

“Your young man thought it proper to ask me for my blessing before popping the big question, and I may have expressly told him to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle.” At your expression, he quickly added. “Well, he didn’t!”

“It’s just—He never told me that he asked.” You omitted the part where Peter held your refusal to tell Tony about the engagement against you. Tony wouldn’t understand Peter’s motives any more than you could. But you were going to make him explain himself. 

A brief impression of chagrin flashed in Tony’s eyes. “I admit I wasn’t that forthcoming about it. He probably thought it’d be better to keep it to himself than tell you I said no.”

That’s not what it was, but you hummed in agreement anyway.

“Welp, my party mood’s long gone,” Tony stated, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie. “Anybody else up for some Shawarma?”

| Next Morning  |

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

One of the guards, a new hire with a tag reading Lang, shadowed you as you walked out of the detention center’s lobby and into the bustling dayroom, then up to Peter’s cell. An untrained eye wouldn’t notice the guard’s careful proximity, and an untrained ear wouldn’t hear his trepid footsteps. You knew better. 

Your fiancé is many things, and cautious just happens to be a large part of his make-up. None of the inmates lounging around the dayroom dared to glance your way, not because of the authoritative figure trailing behind you, but because of Peter and his imposing rap-sheet. 

While Lang’s presence was somewhat reassuring on your way around the crowded cells, you didn’t need the security detail. You weren’t afraid of anyone in this facility. The moment you propositioned to be his attorney, he should’ve known you weren’t one to be easily rattled.

When you stood in front of Peter’s cell door, Officer Lang moved up close enough to smack the door twice, then placed the key in the lock. As the heavy metal door swung open, you weren’t sure what you might see. 

He’s been away from the action, holed up in here all night. A tiny part of you expected Peter to be pacing the floor, running his hands through his hair and wringing them together in distress, beads of sweat trickling down his neck as he counted the seconds to your arrival. You wondered what it would be like to witness God panicking.

What you saw made you smile. Peter, sitting on his squalid mattress with his body propped up against the wall, his eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar, is sound asleep. Some of his brown curls are slightly lying over his forehead, giving him the perfect air of innocence.

Lang took a half step through the door, poked his head in the room, and loudly sang, “Wakey, wakey, Parker! You’re sprung.”

Peter jolted up from his position, looking around as if he forgot his bearings. The moment his eyes landed on yours, a sly smirk slid onto his lips, and the air of innocence vanished.

“Took you long enough.”

He got up from his bed with a low groan, stretching out the kinks in his neck. His dress shirt from last night is has a few more buttons open, exposing his black undershirt, and his shoes are in the corner of the room. The guards didn’t bother giving him a change of clothes because they knew he’d be out in less than 24 hours.

“I could always leave you in here, Mr. Parker,” you said, a small, teasing smile playing at your lips.

Peter grinned back at you, then retrieved his shoes. Lang stood against the wall like a statue, head forward and hands crossed in front of him. 

When he was out of the cell, and Lang locked the door behind him, Peter addressed Lang. “She can take it from here, Scott.”

And just like that, Lang’s stoic face melted into a rueful grin as he mockingly saluted Peter and walked off, leaving the two of you alone. 

Your mouth gaped for approximately two seconds before you caught on. “You hired him to play pretend-cop?”

“Oh no, Scott works here.” Peter slipped his shoes on and unbuttoned the rest of his dress shirt’s buttons. “He just also happens to work for me while working here.”

You wanted to ask how many Scotts he had in this facility but thought against it, deciding to quietly lead him out of the dayroom and into the lobby. No one acknowledged your departure. Every single one kept their heads down and tended to business as usual. 

Peter’s driver, Flash, leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Once he saw you both approach, he stamped it out and immediately opened the back seat door for you and Peter.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, always overly cheerful.

Peter clapped Flash on the shoulder and said, “Hey, man. How you doing?”

“Good, sir. Thank you for asking.”

“Dude, we talked about this. Stop calling me ‘sir’ so much. It’s getting weird.”

Flash automatically nodded, saying, “Right, sorry about that,” before closing the door behind Peter. He’d call Peter ‘sir’ again by tomorrow.

Peter groaned in instant satisfaction as he sank into the leather seat. It’s a low and throaty sound, and you felt its vibrations all the way to your core, leaving a flustered mess for longer than you’re proud to say. Two years you’ve been with this man, and the lust hasn’t dimmed.

Peter got right to the point. “So, how’d it go?”

You smirked contentedly, flattening your hands across the lap of your pencil skirt. “You are $20 million richer. And you have the Scorpions’ trading routes and connections, along with a guarantee eviction by the end of the week.”

“20 million… Damn, baby, I knew you were a hustler, but that’s in-fucking-sane!” Peter whooped, turning in his seat to face you fully. His face radiated with excitement. “I bet Rumlow’s pissed.”

“Oh, yeah. He was pissed, alright. He tried renegotiating, then tried to worm out of it. It was fun to watch him squirm.” You’d never mention the part where Rumlow pulled a gun on you to Peter. Not because you cared for Rumlow’s safety in any way, but because you’ve seen how Peter reacts when someone threatens his loved ones, and you never want him to go down that dark tunnel again.

Peter leaned his head against the headrest and wistfully said, “Wish I could’ve been there. Stark didn’t give you a hard time for gambling, did he?”

The topic shift smacked you with the remembrance of what happened last night, what Tony had said. It shouldn’t have kept you up all night, but you tossed and turned with the nagging fact that Peter both hid his confrontation with Tony and had the nerve to pester you about not telling Tony something that he already knew.

For a while, you stayed up wondering why Peter even brought it up at dinner. What was his purpose? Why act cold towards you if there wasn’t a reason? Or was it even an act? Did he genuinely resent you that much for being anxious about telling Tony? Would you ever see that side of Peter again? So indifferent, so cruel. So quick to discard you.

The rest of the night, you replayed over and over how he ignored you, how he minimized you. That wasn’t part of the plan. Most of what happened before the cards got into your hands played out unexpectedly, and you understood why that had to be at some degree, but the ambiguity of it all ticked you off. Did he not trust you?

When he dismissed you, you actually thought about leaving him there alone. Was that not real?

That ache in your chest was real.

“Babe?” Peter waved his hand in front of your face. “Babygirl? What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his. They strayed to your lap, refusing to move even as Peter hesitantly took hold of your chin with his thumb and index finger. He emphatically called your name a few times, worry intensifying more and more as an unspecified amount of time passed. Peter never dropped his hand. His thumb caressed your chin while he waited for you to speak, knowing you would.

The desire to verbalize took longer than you expected. There just didn’t seem to be a right way to say what was weighing on your mind. Outright confronting him with only inference to go off of felt childish, but so did beating around the bush. You ultimately chose to address the subject of your silence.

In a tense voice, you said, “Tony told me that you asked for his permission to marry me.”

About thirty seconds ticked away. Peter sighed, “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?”

You nibbled on your lower lip, then brought your eyes up to meet his. Mild concern drowns his warm brown eyes, somehow increasing their depth, and frown lines creased his forehead. If this were one of your typical squabbles and he stared at you with those damn eyes, you’d have been a goner.

“No.” You shook your head to clear the effect of his gaze. “I’m upset that you asked Tony and then proceeded to act like I had an obligation to tell him something you already told him. And then you got so mad about it last night…” you trailed off in a whisper, recalling his restrained animosity, something you never thought you’d experience with him.

“I wasn’t actually mad,” he rushed.

“So you were pretending?” You asked lamely, feeling the ghost of last night’s ache lash around in your chest. “All that wasn’t real? Ignoring me? Snatching your arm away from me? Dismissing me?”

He insistently shook his head, brown curls swaying across his forehead. “None of it.” 

To you, the truth is almost as bad as the lie.

“It felt real to me.” Your voice sounds so small, it’s humiliating. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, severing the eye contact again. “The fact that you couldn’t just tell me that that’s what you were doing beforehand makes me feel like… like you don’t trust me. Like you’re willing to sacrifice my feelings for some stupid game. Like I’m a pawn.”

“Fuck,” Peter cursed, running a swift hand through tousled his hair. “No, baby, that’s not it. Come ‘ere.” 

Peter reached over the divider and pulled you into his lap despite your attempt to scoot away. You didn’t want him holding you, consoling you because even if you tried your hardest to resist him, an irrational part of your brain would immediately relent to his closeness.

You stiffened at the touch of his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back, then loudly to clear your throat. “What is it, then?” You spoke to him as if he were one of your clients. Professional. Distanced. But you couldn’t look into those eyes.

“I was giving you an alibi,” he confessed, not fazed by your tone. “In case anything went wrong. We needed to look distant so Rumlow wouldn’t catch on to how coordinated everything was.”

Okay, that’s nowhere near the answer you were expecting. Because, of course Peter would come up with a convoluted explanation that only made sense to him. Irritation rose in you like a brewing storm as you peered straight into his eyes, ignoring the visceral pull as they locked on you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m a grown-ass woman who can handle shit by herself? I didn’t need a fucking alibi, Peter,” you said, indignation souring your tone. “What, did you think I was going to fuck up that bad?”

“No,” said Peter firmly. When you scoff, he persists. “I mean it. I was just—I was just trying to look out for you.” He held your chin again, applying a slight amount of pressure to keep your eyes on him. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, and I love that about you. Sometimes, though, I want to be there for you as much as you’re there for me, if not more.”

You stubbornly held your tongue. You’re not going to cave with a simple apology… no matter how sincere it sounded.

Peter leaned in closer, poorly hiding his smirk as he heard your breath hitch while his lips skimmed up your neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I apologize for not considering your feelings.” He placed a tiny kiss on the crook of your neck, trailing the tip of his nose against your jawline. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark.”

An undeniable heat flickered to life within you, building as Peter’s actions grew enticingly bold. The pads of his fingers glide up and down your stocking-clad thighs, and each motion brought his hands down further and further until his whole, warm palms flattened down to massage your calves and thighs. Unknowingly, you inclined your neck to allow him to access a larger expanse of your skin.

Any resolve you cemented against Peter crumbled as a pair of lips outlined the shell of your ear. His voice comes out hoarse when he speaks, hoarse and deliberate. “I trust you with everything I have. You know that, don’t you?” His lips hover dangerously near yours.

You exhaled out a breathy, “Yes.” You do know that. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to hold those cards but you, wouldn’t trust anyone else bargaining with his assets but you.

Peter held your lowered gaze steady as he hooked his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up so you fully straddled him, your pencil skirt elastic enough to permit marginal movement. A low whine emitted from your throat as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, then pulled away to stare at you, using the full force of his immorally brown eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

It’d be as simple as sin to whimper out a pathetic affirmative and let him off scot-free. Excruciatingly simple. You knew he meant every word, and you were glad he let you express your anger before apologizing. You wanted to forgive him. But your mind currently wasn’t on the same circuit as your mouth, refusing to utter a single word, wondering where that would get you.

“Hmm,” Peter hummed pensively, contemplating while a predatory grin crept onto his lips. “Guess I gotta work for it, then.”

♢ ♤ ��� ♧

Your back arched up off the bed, and you toss your head back as you gutturally cried out Peter’s name for the fourth time.

The moment you two entered the house, Peter was on you, guiding you to the bedroom with his lips attached to yours and his hands groping your backside. His hands never left your body, and once they did, it was only to tear off his clothes. You weren’t sure what you signed up for, but something glinting in Peter’s eyes, an erotic passion you’ve encountered several times in your relationship, bespoke of an intense afternoon headed your way.

Before you could even guess what that might entail, you were lying on your back in the middle of the bed, and Peter was parting your legs open.

Currently, his grip on your bucking hips remains vice-like as he keeps his face planted between your quaking thighs, still lapping up the rest of your orgasm and staring you dead in the eyes with wicked lust.

Each time he made you cum, he’d huskily ask, “You forgive me?” The first time, you were cheeky, shaking your head with a tiny pout on your lips and eagerly wiggling your hips and tugging on the silky strands of his hair for more. The second time, your body ached wonderfully, and you lazily nodded your acceptance of his apology, but he didn’t stop, tightening his hold on the swells of your hips and delving his tongue through your silken folds. By the third time, you were religiously chanting, “I forgive you,” grasping the sheets for dear life as Peter solely sucked on your clit and salaciously groaned into your core.

On the fourth orgasm, your whole body is aflame, your fingers are desperately clutching Peter’s wrists, and you’re a blissed-out, gibbering mess with tears of ecstasy streaming out the corners of your eyes.

“You forgive me?” Peter rasped, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. He alternately kissed your inner thighs, sometimes gently sucking the skin until he left stinging love bites.

Knowing words were well beyond your reach, your jerkily bobbed your head up and down, gulping in air to calm your heaving chest.

A whine of relief breaks free when Peter finally lets go of your hips and leads a sloppy trail of kisses up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, along your neck, your jawline, until he claims your lips in a sensually slow kiss, one that stole away your regained breath. You mewled into it, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. He lowered his body on top of yours, deliciously suffocating you with his body heat and his scent—an intoxicating aroma of smoky spice you only associate with Peter.

Your brain treads on a fine line near oblivion. All your mind can comprehend is Peter. His soft little grunts in your mouth, his toned chest brushing against yours, his hardened cock against your stomach as he ruts into you.

“I want you,” you panted, wanton need thick in your voice. You’re entirely spent, but you couldn’t help but crave more of Peter, couldn’t help but want him to thoroughly build you up only to tear you down all over again. 

Peter teasingly nipped at your lips, mumbling, “Where do you want me?”

You let out an impatient, low-pitched groan. “Inside me, baby. Please, Peter.” Your hips angled up on their own accord, grinding your dripping core against his cock. “Please, fuck me.”

His eyes rolled back, mouth slightly agape, and his face pinched in pleasure—what a pretty sight. Your eyes drank him all in. You loved the way he squinches up his eyes, almost as if all the sensations are too much to process. You loved how the flush creeping up his neck turned his skin a lovely scarlet. You loved watching him try to be attentive to you while being so engrossed in his own bliss.

Unhurried, Peter took himself in his hand, then slid his length through your folds before guiding his tip to your entrance. He always liked to draw this moment so he could hear the desperate noises you’d make for him. Your whole body sang out for him, from the broken moans spilling from your lips to the constant, stuttering pitch in your hips. 

At an agonizingly slow pace, Peter slid inside of you, hissing out a drawn-out Fuck. You jumped and gasped at the slight sting as he stretched you out, gripping onto his biceps and clenching around him as the sting built up to a toe-curling burn of ecstasy. 

He stroked into you with painstaking emphasis, hitting a deep spot within you that brought stars to your vision while capturing your lips in a blistering kiss. Your hands held his face as the kiss deepened, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths in carnal abandon. Yeah, it definitely tops the sex you had on the night he proposed.

Peter broke the kiss to dip his head down and favor the skin on your neck. His voice is a low murmur when he speaks, barely louder than your gasping breaths. “You forgive me?”

You practically sob out, “Yes! Yes, baby, I forgive you.” The flames are multiplying, licking up from your lower region and engulfing you as his strokes rock steadily. 

“You know you’re my everything,” he grunted, sucking down hard on your skin and laving it with his tongue after you yelp his name.

Your heart flutters as you moan, “Yes.”

“Say it, baby,” Peter mumbled, an undercurrent of firmness in his voice. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m your everything.” The things this man does to you…

“Good girl.” Peter’s hand wedged between your entwined bodies, reaching down to rub your overstimulated clit, watching the tremors shaking through your body as your mouth hung open in a silent moan. “I want you to remember that,” he ordered. “You’re my everything, and I’m sorry I”—grunt—“Fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He carefully collects you in his arms before rolling over and putting you on top, wrapping his arms around your back so your bodies remain pressed together. Some of your twists cascade on either side of Peter’s face, but he doesn’t mind, keeping his head buried in the crook of your shoulder as he pumped up his hips, deeply thrusting into you. 

“You feel so good, babygirl,” Peter said roughly, his hips picking up into a bruising speed. “So wet for me.” His hands slide down your back and squeeze your ass. “Always take me so well.”

All you could manage were needy, shameless whimpers in response as his dirty words, his scorching touch, his soft lips, his slick body against yours all sent you reeling towards a rapturous release. Every stroke brings you closer to the edge, and you know Peter isn’t far behind.

With some effort, you drag yourself up to sit on Peter’s cock and brace your hands on his chest, lolling your head back as the new angle allowed him to hit a deeper spot within you.

Peter admired you through half-lidded eyes. “So fucking beautiful.”

You mustered up a beaming smile for Peter, then set your focus on riding him with the little energy you had left, slowly bouncing up and down on his thick length and loving the quick hitch in Peter’s breath as you took control. You wanted to see him writhe underneath you as he came inside you, wanted to see his pretty lips part as he called out your name. You’re so close, it’s maddening, but you’re waiting for Peter to fall off the edge with you. 

As soon as Peter’s hips began to chase yours in a broken pattern and a repeated mixture of your name and fucks streamed out of his mouth, your climax slammed into you, slightly choking you up as you came with a high-pitched, quivering gasp and cried out, “Peter!”

Peter’s crashed down on him with the same force. His hips stalled for an instant before jerking up into you one last time, your name tumbling from his lips in a hoarse groan as he filled you with his hot, sticky cum. It feels as if you’re riding the wave of your orgasm for hours, and you blissfully drown in it. Savor it. Bask in the absolute pride of knowing that this man is yours and yours alone even though you have yet to seal it with the promise of ‘for as long as you both shall live.’

The comedown is a sluggish process, like trying to swim the length of a 10-foot pool of honey. Your heart rate is the first to slow down into a stable rhythm, then the raucous hum singing in your body simmers down to a delicious buzz whose sole purpose is to remind you of the five breathtaking orgasms Peter drew out of you. Every part of your body aches when you merely think about moving, so you cave and slump onto Peter’s torso, eliciting an amused oomph from Peter as he wraps an arm around your waist. When he pulls out of you, his cum smears a sticky trail in between your thighs.

Peter brushes away some of your twists from your face to press a gentle kiss to your perspired forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo back, leaning up a little to peck his jawline. You snuggle up closer so your head rested on his shoulder. “And I really do forgive you. Your intentions were pure, and I know you were just trying to protect me.” You reach up and grab his chin, making him look into your eyes. “But I want your complete trust, Peter. Trust that I can handle things on my own.”

“From this point on, you have my whole trust,” Peter promised. He took hold of your hand, entwined your fingers together, and then put your hands over his heart. Its slow thud matched yours. “You have my word. No more alibis.”

You laughed tiredly. “Thank you.”

For a while, you two just stayed in each other’s embrace, your eyes falling as Peter’s finger lazily traced an infinity sign around your knuckles. You’re still buzzing, and you know you should roll out of bed to wash up, but you try to save these soft moments in your memory, to help remind you of the kind man who can be, at times, too cruel for words. That’s when he’s Deus. Right now, he’s your Peter.

Seconds away from succumbing to sleep, a thought occurs to you, and you quietly ask, “Hey, babe?”

Peter sounds wide awake. “Yeah?”

“Did Tony literally tell you to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle when you asked him for his approval?”

He snickered. “I believe his exact words were, ‘Go to hell, Parker. Better yet, why don’t you do us all a favor and take a swim in the Bermuda Triangle, and become a cold case?’”

Geez, Tony. You bit your lip. “And you still asked me to marry you anyway, even though he didn’t approve?”

“I was going to, regardless,” Peter murmured, and you could hear a smile in his words. “I just wanted to try and, you know, see if I could make you a little happier. Me and Stark bump heads a lot, and I saw how it upset you, so I thought asking him for his permission would get us on the right track to some sort of civility. Wanted it to be a surprise if he did say yes.”

Unexpected tears gathered in your eyes, and your chin wobbled. He tried for you. Had been trying for you. He even noticed how his and Tony’s bouts caused you to be anxious about your future together and tried to mend the stupid rift between them, for your sake. You aren’t going to lie and say that you’re glad Tony refused. You wished with your whole heart that he could clearly see how much you loved Peter. But, from now on, you’re no longer going to be scared of what Tony thinks of Peter. You love him, and he most certainly loves you, and that’s all that matters.

You scooch up a little more and capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He’s only caught off guard for a second before kissing back, wrapping both of his arms around your waist. When Peter felt the wet tear tracks on your cheeks, he brought up his hands and wordlessly wiped them away.

As you pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his and said, “I can’t wait to marry you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter lightly rubbed the tip of your nose with his, replying, “I’m already yours, Mrs. Parker.”

[animeyanderelover]

Hello!,if you don't mind, could i request Prompt no 120. With Ronald? 😳😳 Thank you!

Clingy baby.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, clinginess, possessiveness, manipulation

Prompt 120: “Jealous! Jealous! Jealous! Mine! Mine! Mine”

You must have looked quite pitiful right now. You guessed so at least from the way people kept glancing at you, eying you with those eyes that told you that they felt sorry for you. It didn’t really help you right now, instead it only led you to feeling more and more embarrassed and abandoned. And from the way you hunched over, trying to hide yourself from their gazes which only led to them staring more at you, you knew the pressure and discomfort was getting to you.

He hadn’t come. It was not the first time, he was a busy man. But it was the first time he had let you waiting for so long without making his abrupt appearance. He would need a very good excuse for this one, letting you sit and wait for him in this damn bar like a complete fool.

A short glance at your pocket watch told you that he had been already for nearly an hour too late which made you wonder what the heck had him that occupied to come that late. Or had he simply forgotten that he was supposed to meet you today? That would really make you feel stupid and like you weren't that important to him which was why you hoped that this wasn't the case. Or else one whole hour you had sat here for nothing.

For a short moment you listened to the people around you, to all the lulling, laughing and the music in this place. People making toasts, talking and joking together, getting drunk and flirting with each other. The atmosphere around you was so happy and carefree. You clearly didn't fit in right now, an outsider with a gloomy heart watching longingly from far away. You didn't think you could be able to mix in, not when everyone was aware that you had been rejected and waited for still nearly a whole hour.

You drowned the sigh that was crawling up your lips with a huge gulp of the drinking glass in front of you, alongside with your tears of frustration and irritation. You hadn't drunken too much, your tolerance for alcohol was pretty good and so the three drinks shouldn't affect you too much. You slammed the pot angrily down, the burning feeling of the liquid in your throats starting to cause you to feel rather pissed than hurt. That damn bastard would have to do some good explanation or otherwise you would guarantee to give him your own handmade hell.

Without a further word you stood up, wiping your wet lips with your sleeve and throwing some money on the counter. Maybe the man behind the bar wanted to say something, but he quickly shut his mouth when seeing your grim expression, only quickly wishing you a pleasant night which made you scoff. You simply grabbed your coat and stomped quickly out of this place, throwing everyone who seemed to want to speak with you a silent and warning glare that it would be better to leave you alone right now.

But the true thing that had you nearly going berserk was that as soon as you had rushed outside, taking notice of the dark clouds in the sky and the rumbling of the thunder, only shortly after you felt the first raindrop hitting you. Followed by another. And another. And one after that. And shortly after it was pouring buckets out of the sky, leaving you in only a short time completely drenched. You hadn't taken an umbrella with you, you had simply forgotten it because you had feared that you would come to late. Now look where you were.

"I should have just stayed at home snuggled up in my bed.", you thought darkly, pulling the collar of your long coat a bit higher to get a bit protection. Right now you really thought about cursing out loud and letting all of your frustration out, but if someone would hear you they would probably think off you as a drunk creep and you didn't want to make yourself appear even more of a fool. You had enough embarrassement for this day. You didn't need more.

"Stupid Ronald.", you cussed silently, starting to run to reach your house faster and to save this rather unlucky day of yours. And if you were lucky, you wouldn't catch a cold and be able to go to work tomorrow perfectly normal as if nothing had ever happened. Yes, that sounded good. Just forgetting about that guy and making yourself a cozy night. And if he would dare to show up, you would strangle him.

"Hey there! You, please wait up!"

Who the heck would be outside whilst it felt like the whole ocean was pouring down from th sky? You naturally assumed that the guy had to mean you since there was not a single soul outside except you. You felt slightly confused when you turned around, being met with a man around your age running behind you, holding an umbrella in his hand. Wait. Wasn't that one of the people in the bar? Why was he following you?

As nice as this act of his might have been, having ran after you to shield you with his umbrella from the rain, you were really in a salty mood right now.

"What do you want? I'm not made of sugar, you know? I can handle this rain without the help of a wanna-be-gentle-man.. If you want to pity on me, just crawl back to the place you've come from.", you replied in a meant-to-be-mean voice, giving him a grim look that obviously surprised and shocked him, staring confused down at you. Such rudeness had he probably not seen coming, especially from someone who had been ditched and was soaked from top to the bottom with the rain.

And maybe you had been expecting him to leave after this, hoping to have signaled him that you wanted to be left alone and just go home, throwing yourself in your bed and forget this shitty evening. You had for that moment lost the belief in kindness and understanding of living beings for others. That was exactly the reason why you got flustered when he instead of being offended and insulting you back, he just gave you a smile and scratched his head a bit.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. I noticed that you have no umbrella with you and when the storm started, I simply got worried. It's also pretty late and whilst I see the chance of someone with bad intentions being now outside, I still thought it would be wiser to accompany you a bit until you're brought home."

You gave him the raised-eyebrow-look, not completely buying his reason. You guessed he might just be a very friendly person, but that was not enough of a reason to let him do as he planned. "I appreciate the help, but I can handle myself just fine. Thank you for caring though. In that area you're better than a certain someone.", you grumbled out, pushing him a bit away and enduring the never-ending rain once again.

"I know how this feels."

This made you stop, glancing behind you at the guy whose smile looked by now a bit forced, recalling a memory he didn't like to think about.

"Excuse you?"

"You've been waiting for someone in the bar, haven't you? The way you've constantly been staring at your pocket watch, the entrance and the way you've looked sadder and sadder. I know that feeling as well, it's quite disappointing, having your high expectations crushed just like this whilst everyone around you doesn't really care. Makes you feel like you want to yell all of your frustration out and to punch the air. I guess I just wanted to...try to help you and be a bit there for you. I know I'm just a stranger, but maybe I can still help."

His short speech managed to dumbfound you a bit, for someone who looked like a small troublemaker he was quite the decent guy. "So he's been left waiting before as well, hmm?"

Your anger was quickly vanishing, sympathy starting to bubble up in your stomach for the man who still looked like he was upset about it.

"How long have you known the girl before...you know?", you asked, careful to not trigger him. "A few months. She was really cute and kind and I really thought that we got along very well. But apparently I was wrong. She left me for another one. I hope that in your case it is just a misunderstanding, but it still weights quite heavily, especially when they were the one who planned it in the first place. It makes you feel like an idiot."

He knew indeed how you felt currently, giving you a sudden temptation to tell him a bit about yourself. He didn't look like someone dangerous. He himself had seemed pretty isolated from the rest of the people in the bar, maybe because he had been rejected in there as well. This bar was definitely not a good place for couples, was it?

"If you don't want me to do this I'll leave. You just looked so sad, I thought that maybe a bit company would feel good. You don't have to talk or anything like this."

"It's fine. Having someone to talk too right now does sound nice. Better than getting caught in thoughts of how to kill my boyfriend for not coming to our date like this."

That guy, Simon was his name, turned out to be quite the fun guy to be with. Both of you got along surprisingly well, even though you intended to keep it in a platonic way. Talking to him helped you calming a bit down and you knew that you still loved Ronald and had to let him explain himself later on. But only after you had forgiven him completely.

Who knew, maybe you would run one day into that guy again. But you definitely felt grateful when he escorted you home, said his goodbye and left you afterwards, mentioning before that that he believed that your boyfriend had to have some sort of accident since no one would just ditch someone like you without a good reason. He was nice and you actually ended up wanting to punch the girl who had rejected him for someone else.

“Well, this day was not as terrible after all. I just want to go to bed and sleep now. I’ll pass on the bath.”, you decided, stretching yourself and letting out a yawn whilst putting your cloak somewhere where the fabric could dry.

The storm was still going on, thunder and lightning interrupting the silence every once in a while and you hoped that your new friend would arrive safely. He had mentioned that he lived not too far away though, so maybe he merely needed a few minutes.

No way that someone would be still out in this unbearable weather, right?

So the sudden knocking on your door, persistent and loud, startled you a lot more than you would want to admit later on, every once in a while being covered by the growling of the sky.

“(y/n)! Please open the door! I have to talk to you!”

That voice…No way! You could have hesitated for much longer whether to let him in or not, but when a sudden hit of the wind whipped raindrops against your windows and you realized that Ronald was still standing outside, you decided to show mercy. You had gone through this storm as well.

That did not mean that you harbored salty feelings inside of you when you turned the doorknob around, planning to lecture him the moment you would see his face.

However, the first word you had planned to spit out got stuck in your throat when you saw the condition he was in. Well, the fact that he was completely wet was no real surprise to you, your hair was still dripping as well and even your clothes under the cloak had not been unharmed. But he looked like he had gotten in some sort of fight looking at his torn clothes and you could see a bruise on his face.

“Ronald! What happened to you?!”

You quickly checked for any blood, but luckily didn’t find anything except the blood on his face, helping you to feel relaxed a bit. He had no serious injuries except a few bruises here and there, but this was more than enough to make all of your anger fade away. Suddenly you had a pretty solid idea to why he had been so late, remembering the stories you had been told about street gangs targeting persons alone and beating them for money and whatever they might have with them.

You attempted to support him with your body, but he just quickly walked inside, slamming the door closed behind him and leaning against the wood. The look on his face was…hard to describe, but you definitely knew that it gave you an eerie vibe.

“You surely seemed to have fun with that guy.”

Apathetic. He sounded incredible apathetic in that moment, looking with exhausted eyes at you, betrayal swimming in them. Originally you would have yelled at him that he had come too late, but how could you after having seen him in such a condition?

“Ronald…He just walked me home because I had nothing to shield me with from this rain.”, you said weakly in your defence, guilt consuming you for ever having doubted him like this.

“I know that. I know that I must have made you think I forgot when I came so late. I got caught up in some troubles whilst finishing my work. I hate doing overwork and just today I wanted to finish quickly. Still though…Couldn’t you have just waited in the bar until the storm was over? I had to rush the whole way from there to your house after being told that you left and one of the guys from the bar followed you.”

You really didn’t know how to reply. Had he seriously thought that you would wait that long for him? Was he that confident in you? It was either really arrogant of him to think that or he really just trusted you sincerely that much. And since you felt currently terrible, the latter on got the better of you which made you indeed feel like the culprit. If you would have waited just a bit longer…

“Are you mad with me?”

“No! How could I? I’m just glad you weren’t seriously hurt.”, you protested fiercely, feeling a familiar stinging in your eyes.

“Good to hear. I was quite worried when I caught a glimpse of you with that other guy since you looked like he had just made your day a better one. I know I shouldn’t feel that way, he only helped you. But still…”

When he suddenly latched onto you, pressing his wet body against your own and causing you to worry that he would hurt himself like this, you quickly noticed that he really was worn out now, leaning his weight against yours for a bit support.

“Jealous! Jealous! Jealous! Mine! Mine! Mine!”

It made you almost laugh when hearing him chanting those words if it wouldn’t have been for this rather messed up scenario and that he didn’t sound like his usual self, much more distraught which made you wonder if this was really only because why he had seen you with your new fellow or because of what had happened to him. But one thing was clear. You wouldn’t doubt him like this again.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Nine: Lost In Japan

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): chest pain, health problems, getting lost

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

When you landed in Japan, your phone was already blowing up with notifications. 

"Jang Sumi Seen With Min Yoongi's Bodyguard"

"Jang Sumi Joining BTS In Japan For Promotions"

The cameras already waited when you stepped into the airport. You were in the middle of the members, and instead of stopping for pictures like normal, bodyguards flanked in between the eight of you and the cameras. 

You felt as Yoongi reached down and softly took your hand. You looked back at him with a confused look and he just shrugged. 

"They all have their assumptions anyway," he said. "Just keep going. They'll try to get in our way, but just keep going. They won't bother you if you're with me."

You moved through the crowd with Yoongi's hand as your anchor. You heard the various fans gasping and screaming and the paparazzi asking questions and trying to provoke you and the members into a response, but before you knew it, you were in the back of a van and fastening your seatbelt. The satisfying click making you smile. You made it.

Yoongi was beside you. He still held your hand and you wondered if he noticed. His thumb rubbed lightly over your knuckles in a quick, sweeping motion. You didn't necessarily mind him holding your hand, it was just that there was no use for it now.

The van door shut as Jimin got in and plopped down beside you. A few seconds later, the van was moving.

"My phone blew up when we landed," you said. "Apparently, the bodyguard who helped me through the airport was your bodyguard?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

"What did you do then?" 

"Eh, we had plenty of bodyguards," he said. "Since we were in a group, it was unnecessary to have mine." 

"But, Yoongi, I know things have happened to you in airports before. You're an idol. You're a bigger risk." 

"Sumi, I lent him to you and something still happened," Yoongi said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again, but slower this time.

"You really don't have to worry about us, Sumi," Jimin said. His eyes were closed and you'd honestly thought he was asleep. "We have enough bodyguards and we have Jungkook." Jimin kicked the back of the youngest's seat, who sat in front of him. 

You laughed and dropped the subject and instead gazed out the window at Tokyo. You'd only truly been to the city once when you were a kid, although you'd had many layovers in the Tokyo airport on your flight to and from the US. 

---  

"There's a problem with the hotel," Se-jin said, coming back out to the van. Most of the members were barely awake due to their busy schedules and how they'd gotten used to sleeping on most forms of transportation. "A fire sprinkler in Sumi's room burst and it flooded the whole room. The flooding is contained in her room due to the staff. Are you okay sharing a room, Sumi?"

You nodded. "Yeah," you said. "That's fine." 

"All right, does anyone--"

"I will!" All of the members shouted at once. You were amazed that despite their perceived states of sleep, they all appeared to be awake and fully listening. You laughed.

"She'll stay with me," Yoongi said. 

You turned to look at him surprised. "But, what about the rumors?"

"They know we're soulmates at this point. And, if you got caught staying with one of the other members, what do you think they would think?" 

Your brow furrowed. They already thought you had cheated on Minki with Yoongi, but if the media began circulating that you were cheating on Yoongi, you could only imagine the backlash you would receive. 

"Yeah, okay," you said. "I'll stay with Yoongi." Se-jin nodded and closed the van door as he went back into the hotel to finish checking in. 

"We've rented out the whole floor, so there should be no way anyone will find out," Yoongi said, giving you a small smile. 

"Then, why couldn't I stay with one of the other boys?" you asked, your lips curving into a smirk. 

Yoongi's ears turned red and he looked between you and the other members who watched in loving amusement.

"Just in case."

---

By the time you all got checked in and everything unloaded, the sun was beginning to set. You saw no point in unpacking your suitcase completely when you were only staying for four days. However, you unpacked your toiletries and headed to the bathroom. 

"Do you need to shower--?" you ask, but the words are left in the air as you notice Yoongi dropping the extra pillows and blankets from the closet onto the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up my bed." He smoothed out the blankets and placed the pillow on one end of the couch. 

"You don't have to sleep on the couch. I trust you. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

"It's not that," Yoongi said. "I don't trust the urges. We've only had one, but I'm afraid if we lay together in bed. It would just trigger something." 

You nodded. "You're right. But, I'll sleep on the couch. This is your room." 

Yoongi shrugged and shook his head before falling back onto the couch and crossing his hands over his stomach. "Go take your shower." 

You sighed and went into the bathroom and took the shower you'd been long awaiting. Despite the coffee having been spilled on you hours before and changing into Yoongi's shirt, you could still feel the sticky cream-filled coffee on your skin. You undressed and folded Yoongi's shirt and placed it on the counter so that it wouldn't get wet and continued to undress. Only when you had finished did you realize that you'd forgotten to bring your pajamas with you. 

---

"Yoongi?" you asked, peeking your head out the bathroom. "Are you awake?"

Yoongi chose not to respond as you emerged from the bathroom in one of the hotel's white bathrobes. He didn't respond because he wanted you to strip in front of him, but rather, he was hoping to be asleep within a few minutes anyway.

As he heard you shuffle back towards the bed, he heard a small scuffle and you curse under your breath. He opened his eyes to see you standing by the bed as nothing happened. You unfastened the robe and allowed it to fall. 

Yoongi only caught a glance of your bare back before he shut his eyes again, although he felt a stirring in his stomach. He could only curse in his head as he attempted to focus on anything else. He didn't catch a glimpse of anything super sexual, but it didn't matter. Yoongi hoped this wouldn't lead to another urge. While he wanted nothing more than to pull you into him and kiss you up and down your body, he knew he couldn't for the sake of severing the soulmate bond. 

There were a few seconds of silence. He figured you'd finished getting dressed, but the light was still on and he hadn't heard you climb into the bed. He opened his eyes only to be met with a pillow to the face. 

"I knew you weren't asleep!" you said, holding the pillow above your head to bring back down upon him. Yoongi acted quickly and sat up and grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the side. 

You were dumbfounded for a second until you heard Yoongi laugh. "What was your plan exactly?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I just wanted to prove you were being a creep." You wiggled your eyebrows as a smirk came over your face. 

"Hey! I didn't see anything. I kept my eyes closed."

"Mmm," you said. "I don't believe you." 

Before Yoongi could respond, a silence came over the two of you as you both simultaneously realized that you were straddling his lap and you could feel him pressing into you. 

"Sorry," he whispered as you climbed off of him. 

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. You didn't mean to. Let's, uh, let's go to bed."

"Wait, Sumi, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"I just plan on going out and exploring a bit. I've never got to explore the city. Probably do some shopping, visit temples." Your eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Why?"

"I'll be working," he said. "Just make sure to get back here before me so we don't risk anything. I'm supposed to be done with the fan sign at five." 

You nodded. "You don't think being away from each other in general will cause anything?" 

It was only then that Yoongi realized that you hadn't been away from each other for nearly two weeks. While you might not be physically together, you were always within the same building or space. "I think it's been enough time." 

You nodded as you climbed under the covers of the bed and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. Even in the dark, Yoongi could make out as you pulled the covers up to your chin and turned on your side. It made him smile. 

"Goodnight, Yoongi."

"Goodnight."

---

Your knees ached by midday, but your day alone in the city had been one of the best you'd had in years. You hadn't been truly alone for what felt like months. Sure, you slept alone and you could easily duck in the bathroom for five minutes of peace, but this was freedom you didn't think you'd have after the whole soulmate thing happened.

Yoongi was gone when you'd woke up that morning, the blanket tossed to one side of the couch. Not neat, but not exactly messy. It was odd, not feeling the aching in his chest when he was gone. You knew there were exceptions for when you were obligated to be apart, but since Yoongi worked so much, maybe it wouldn't be so horrible.

Your mind had still wandered to Yoongi throughout the day. Occasionally, you'd see a BTS ad campaign or someone wearing merch, but what really caught your attention was a small Kumamon figure. It was clearly meant to act as a paperweight or just to decorate a desk. You'd noticed that Yoongi seemed to like the character and after a quick Google search, it was confirmed. You bought the figure and tossed it into your purse.

With shopping bags in your hands and your camera in your hand, you managed to use your one free hand to pull out enough money to buy a taiyaki. You thanked the woman who handed it to you in your best rudimental Japanese. 

You were a few blocks away and halfway through your taiyaki when you thought to check the time. You nearly dropped the sweet bun when you realized it was 4:50 pm. Yoongi was due to be done in ten minutes and you were at least a half hour walk from the hotel--if not more. 

You rush out to the side of the road and attempt to hail a taxi. The first few passed you, but eventually one stopped and you frantically told the driver the name of the hotel. 

Within five minutes, the driver only managed to get a few blocks because of rush hour traffic. With nowhere to go, you were stranded. You'd gone the whole day without making a scene or being recognized (although maybe because you wore a baseball cap and mask), despite your face on the cover of magazine articles everywhere. And, you were afraid that you were going to have to end up on more of them to get out of this. 

You waited another five minutes before handing the driver a wad of cash that was definitely too much and apologizing as you got out of the cab. Carrying your bags and purse on your arm, you ran across the stopped lanes of traffic and tried to ignore the car horns and confused shouts. You checked the time. 5:01 pm. You ran and pulled up the GPS on your phone and entered the hotel address. 

Your vision blurred and you felt a small pull in your chest. It was warning you.

---

Something felt off as the van pulled up to the back door of the hotel. His palms begin to sweat and his heart beat against his chest as if he were sprinting. The door to the van opened and Yoongi didn't even remember it stopping or the rest of the members climbing out. 

"Yoongi?" one of the members called. 

Yoongi managed to his feet and out of the van but nearly collapsed against Jin, who grabbed him by the shoulder to stabilize him. He doesn't get far before he collapses against the wall of the hotel, his neck lulling back. 

"Yoongi, what's wrong?"

"Sumi...she must not be back yet..." 

Yoongi hears some talking and shuffling, but barely understands anything as two of the boys lift him up and inside the hotel. 

"They're going to look for her, Yoongi. It will be okay."

---

You'd made it a few more blocks, although you could barely tell. You were running, even though your vision was so blurred you could barely see. You used the buildings on the side as your guide and hoped you wouldn't bump into anyone. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you honestly couldn't tell if it was because of the running or that Yoongi was back at the hotel. You felt lightheaded and even with your headphones in you could barely hear the directions your GPS was telling you.

The edges of your vision begin going black and you feel your knees hit the pavement. This was it. You hoped a passerby would stop and at least call an ambulance. 

"Sumi!" someone a short distance away shouted.

You couldn't make out their faces, but you could see figures running through the crowd towards you. As you slumped against the nearest wall, you felt yourself being scooped up. 

"Sumi, Sumi, it's okay. We're not too far away. Come on, stay awake." 

You recognized Jungkook's face and allowed your face to fall against his T-shirt. It felt warm, but as you neared the hotel, your senses clearing a tiny bit, you realized it was a little too warm. You remembered back to the day before when you'd accidentally burned Tae's hand. 

"I-I'm sorry," you said. "It doesn't hurt does it?"

"It was just the T-shirt. Don't worry about it, Sumi."

His voice is soft and you can barely hear him over the commotion you're approaching. You can already hear the slew of photographers who are inside the lobby of the hotel and outside on the sidewalk. They haven't seemed to notice you yet, as their camera flashes and yells are aimed elsewhere.

"Jungkook! Jimin!" Se-jin called from the alleyway where he held open a service door normally only used for employees. While your vision had cleared, you still felt out of breath and your heart still convulsed in your chest. 

Jungkook ran towards the door and immediately into a service elevator. He didn't drop you back on your feet like you had expected him to. His arms were slung under your knees and around your shoulders. You wondered why you weren't burning his arms. Maybe because he wasn't touching your skin? Maybe the soulmate curse somehow recognized that he was helping you get closer to Yoongi? Whatever it was, you were thankful that beyond burning a small black hole in his T-shirt, you hadn't hurt him. 

The elevator dinged and Jungkook rushed you into your hotel room. Yoongi was already on the bed, a cloth on his forehead. He was sweaty, his shirt pulled up, exposing his stomach and his hair pushed back. 

Jungkook plopped you down on the bed beside Yoongi. Your breath evened out and your muscles relaxed, but the dull ache in your chest remained.

"Do you guys need anything?"

"Just some water." 

Jungkook went to the sink and filled a glass with water and set it on the bedside table beside you. "Just text or call one of us if you need anything." 

You nodded and Jungkook left the room. As soon as the door shut, Yoongi's arms around you and your face in his chest. His lips came to your forehead and you released a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

"I lost track of time," you said. "I tried to take a taxi, but it was rush hour." 

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It was harder than we thought it would be." 

"Do you think we'll ever break it?" you asked. "If this was so difficult, if we can't even be apart due to a simple mistake, even if we were in love, how would we fix this?"

"I don't know. But, you should get some sleep."

"You too." 

You rested your head on Yoongi's shoulder, his arm slung around you comfortably, fitting perfectly against your waist and in the swell of your hips. It was the only place your body would allow you to be, but even if it was just the soulmate curse, even if you didn't love Yoongi, you knew there was no other place you wanted to be than his arms.

---

You fell asleep long before Yoongi did. Your small breaths tickling the skin on his neck and you were so still in his arms, only the way your chest moved slowly up and down indicated that you were still alive.

He'd never tell you, but he loved the way you looked when you slept. You scrunched your face up like a fussy baby and sometimes you'd make small moans in reactions to whatever happened in your dreams. 

It was nearly 1 am and Yoongi couldn't sleep. There were still pangs in his chest, but he wasn't sure if it was due to the earlier ordeal, or something else. He looked down at your sleeping form and carefully tucked stray hairs behind your ear. The ends of your hair were still a little damp with sweat, but he didn't care. 

You smiled at his touch and burrowed deeper into him. So deep, in fact, Yoongi wasn't sure you'd ever come out.

[bamberry]

Let the Mayhem Begin || Chapter 1 - Revealing Truths

Adrien Agreste x Marinette Dupain Cheng Pairing

Summary: When Chat Noir reveals his secret identity to Alya, all she can do is painfully watch the two make an absolute mess of themselves. But who said she couldn’t make it worth her while.

Ao3

The Beginnings of a story are the most important.

———————————————————————

It was few weeks after Marinette, her best friend, who couldn’t even get a single word out around a certain blonde, who often fell or bumped into a number of objects and people, told her that she was Ladybug, the hero Alya very much admired.

It had taken a few days and a sleepover to adjust to the fact that Marinette was secretly a renowned super heroine who was fighting every day to protect the city of Paris from a crazy butterfly man.

So when Marinette told her that Chat Noir and Ladybug didn’t know each other’s own identities she was quite surprised.

“But you guys are like the greatest duo in history?”

Marinette then went onto explaining that of the consequences and possibilities of Chat Noir knowing who she was. Alya had to be the one to reassure her that Chat Noir would never do anything to try and hurt Ladybug or Marinette for that matter. Alya fought alongside the guy a few times, if anything it’d be the last thing he’d do.

But nonetheless, Alya too had to respect Marinette’s choice.

“I’m going to have to tell him I told someone about my identity.” She tells Alya.

“Why?” Alya asked.

“He’s deserves to know that I told someone. He’s my partner and in order to protect Paris the best we can he has to know that I told someone else not because I didn’t trust him. But because I did what I knew what best. I have to trust that he’ll understand that.”

Alya really didn’t need Marinette to tell her twice that she was Ladybug. It was clear as day.

“You’re too good for this world Mari.” Alya pulled Marinette into a hug. Of course the blue-pigtailed girl returned the hug.

When they pulled apart Alya could tell something was still on Marinette’s mind.

“What is it?”

“It’s just-does that mean Chat Noir can tell someone who he is too? I mean, it only makes sense. It’d be fair. But what if he tells his identity to the wrong person? What if everyone, including Hawk Moth finds out? I couldn’t stand the fact if Chat Noir had to give up his miraculous because of that.”

“Marinette.” Alya grabbed her shoulders to calm the girl down,”I think Chat Noir is perfectly capable of making that choice for himself. He might be silly sometimes but you know he’s capable of making the right decisions. I’m sure he wouldn’t think about telling someone like Chloe or Lila.”

Speaking of Lila, Alya was quick to apologize to Marinette and is now currently plotting Lila’s demise, however unhero like that may sound.

“What if Chat Noir told you?” The question caused Alya to lose her train of thought,”What?”

“Think about it, you’re the first person to ever resist Hawkmoths power. If anything his secret would be most safest with you. Then there’d be no worry about our identities getting out.”

Alya looked at her completely surprised. As much as Alya would love to know Chat’s identity, it was not their decision to make. Plus Alya didn’t know if she could currently handle knowing another secret identity. Or maybe she just end up exploding with excitement

“Marinette, that’s something Chat Noir has to be able to decide for himself. “

She sighed,”You’re right Alya. But it wouldn’t hurt to give him that option. Regardless, I’m telling him tonight during patrol. “

Alya patted her best friends back,”It’ll be alright. I’m sure.”

“I just hope he doesn’t hate me Alya. Chat Noir has always wanted for us to truly know each other. I won’t lie, a part of me always refuses out of what he might think of my civilian self.”

“Marinette you’re literally one of the most kind hearted souls I’ve ever even met. You’re brave, strong-headed. If anything, Chat Noir would just love you even more.” Alya said with a mischievous smirk.

“Alya!!” Marinette fumed with red.

—

And so, that’s how Chat Noir ended up at Alya’s window later that night.

“Chat Noir?”

“Hey Alya,” Chat looked around to make sure there was nobody had been watching,”This isn’t a bad time is it?”

“Not at all. So what’s one of paris’s favorite superheroes doing here at this hour?”

Chat Noir sat on the window sill as he watched Alya,”Ladybug told me she told someone her secret identity.”

Alya figured much already. She can see how it seemed a bit upset by it.

“At first I wasn’t really thrilled. I had always wanted mi’lady to be the one to tell me who she was first. I thought it was because she didn’t trusted me.” Chat Noir said still looking rather glumly. Alya didn’t say a word, instead she let him continue.

“I won’t lie and say I really hurt by it. But then she told me she told you.” He said,”Which is kind of ironic because I couldve sworn you were the one who owned the blog that was made to figure out who we were.” He chuckled.

“But I thought about it, and I realized mi’lady is under a lot of pressure for being the new guardian. I get how stressful it must of been for her. But I also understand why she still couldn’t tell me. I don’t hate her for it though.”

“You must really love Ladybug.” Alya said to him.

“I do.” He replied looking back out at the city,”So when she me told that I could tell someone I trusted if I needed to. I wasn’t really sure who I could go to. Or if I even wanted to. I mean sure, I have some friends who come to mind, and they’re great and all but ..” He stopped for a few moments before continuing,”But I don’t really know if I’ve even shown them the real me yet.”

Alya felt heartbroken for the superhero. Did he really have no one who knew about his real self besides Ladybug? Did he really not tell those annoying cat puns with to his friends? Someone he could turn to? A part of her just wanted to hug him and give the reassurance that he wasn’t alone in how he felt. But she withheld.

“So when Ladybug suggested I could tell you. I was conflicted? Not because I don’t like you or anything like that , because you’re a great person. But if I’m being honest, I don’t know how’d you feel about that.”

Was Chat Noir really asking how Alya would feel if she knew his identity too. Would it be too much for her to handle and cause her to meltdown? Would she feel suddenly more burdened with another secret and possibly run away? Was he seriously asking her after all he just shared how she would feel?

“How I felt?” Alya asked dumbfounded.

“Ladybug trusted you with her secret for a reason. I don’t want to be the reason you might feel overwhelmed. You’re currently the reason why Ladybug is doing better and I don’t want to take that from her because I shared my identity with you.” 

For the first time in a while, Alya didn’t know what to say and for a while she remained silent. Even after it all, it was still all for Ladybug.

Alya mentally cursed in her head and made a note to subtlety open Mari’s eyes to the possibility of Chat Noir.

“Alya?” Chat asked. Apparently Alya had been silent for a little too long.

“Sorry. It’s a lot to think about.” Alya said,”But you know what, I’m strong too. I know I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

“So you’re saying I can trust you?” Chat Noir’s tail seemed to move excitedly for a moment. It’s almost like he expected to be rejected.

“Of course you can, and to prove that. I’ll let you in on a secret of mine.” Alya said as she put her hands on her hips,”I’m Rena Rogue.”

Chat Noir’s eyes widened as he slowly forms a bright smiles on his face,”I should’ve known Ladybug would’ve chosen you for the fox miraculous. But I’m glad it was you.”

They both laughed and talked about the various battles they fought together in for a while until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“Alya.” Chat said,”I want to tell you who I am. But I want you to know something before I do.” He said,”I know you. In real life I mean. Like I know you in person. As in we’re already mutual friends.”

Alya eyebrows arched a bit, to say that enough to make Alya start thinking of the potential candidates. Ever since LadyBlog took off, Alya did have some fame to her name so she wouldn’t have been surprised if she had met his civilian form during an interview or something of the sort. But to say that they were already friends?

Chat Noir took a deep breath,”Okay I won’t lie I’m a bit nervous.” He laughed hugging his baton protectively.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. “

“No I do. It’ll be fine I think.” He said as Alya stared at him intensely.

“Uh alya.. you’re making me a bit more nervous.” He said embarrassingly. Alya shook her head,”Right sorry sorry just continue.” She said letting her unintentional threatening gaze ease.

“Okay.” The air thickened around as the tension increased.

“Okay but if you like hate me after th-“

“Oh my god CHAT NOIR.” Alya said almost laughing at his sudden nervousness.

“Can you? Turn around?” He asked fiddling with his fingers.

Alya did just that. He reminded her of Marinette around Adrien. Except Chat Noir could at least get a few words out instead of none.

She heard a deep breath

“Plagg, claws in.” He said. It was silent before she heard another voice,”You got any cheese on you?”

“Oh Plagg, you and your stinky cheese can wait.” The voice said.

Alya turned around and when she tells you nothing couldve prepared her for this. She means absolutely nothing.

“You-“ Alya choked out. Her mind racing literally everywhere. “But-“

Adrien scratched his neck and chuckled nervously,”Guess the cats out of the bag.”

“Oh my god.” Alya was in complete disbelief. Or was she? It slowly started to come together. He constant sneaking away. The way he had never been akumatized and was never seen together in the same room. The way he looked like Chat Noir when she for fun drew a mask on him that day she showed Marinette.

She froze. Marinette is Ladybug. Chat Noir is Adrien. Chat Noir loves Ladybug. Ladybug is Marinette. Marinette loves Adrien. Adrien is Chat Noir.

These idiots were in fucking love with each other and they didn’t even know. Alya wanted to just scream.

“Alya?”Adrien asked worriedly,”You havent said anything in a while? Are you disappointed?”

Alya’s spiritual form slapped her in the back of the head,”No!” She almost shouted. Adrien stared at her like she had gone mad.

“No! Not at all! Just surprised but not really? Does that make sense?”

“You’re not surprised ?” Adrien asked her curiously.

“It’s complicated.” Alya admits,”But I appreciate you sharing your secret with me Adrien. You can trust me.”

“Thanks Alya, it feels nice to have another friend.”

“Of course.”

And with that, the two spend the next hour or so just talking. About being Adrien and about being Chat Noir. It was clear Adrien was still pretty closed off about his Adrien life but Alya didn’t want to push him to say something he wasn’t ready to say.

When Chat Noir left Alya practically let out small a small screech ,”THEYRE literally GOING TO END UP KILLING ME WHEN THEY FIND OUT.”

“WHY ARE THEY MAKING IT SO DAMN COMPLICATED.” Alya banged her head against wall.

But then a thought occurred. A very dangerous but fun one.

She chuckled evilly to herself in her room as her forehead turned a bright red.

Alya knew these two would never get anywhere and she of course has sworn to secrecy. But no one said that she couldn’t help out the oblivious lovebirds. Of course she’d be discreet.

Her laughing became ridiculous, one full with mischievous intent. She plopped herself at her desk and began typing away at her computer.

Operation Cat-Bug| . . .

Alya saw the sun rise by the time she stepped back from her computer. A sight to behold. Sure, in need of a little proof reading but nonetheless she had it all planned down in her computer. She nodded in approval as she hit save. School was going to start in about an hour.

She proudly stood up from her chair, legs aching and sore but she did not feel an ounce of tiredness. It was the opposite actually. Excitement jittered through her.

Let the Mayhem Begin

—

omg hi! I’m starting this series. I don’t know exactly how many chapters it will be but I don’t blame on having it be more than 10. Or maybe who knows, I’ll just go where the wind takes me.

ao3 link

I promise they’ll get longer this is the introduction *wink face*

Next Chapter: School Days

[syndianites]

A Queen Serve and Protects

Chapter Six

First Chapter –> Last Chapter –> Current –> Next Chapter TBA! Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Pollen tapped the tablet pen on the table. School had ended and the duo was officially home.

“Chloe,” Pollen began. “It has come to my attention that you don’t do your own work.”

“So?” Chloe nonchalantly replied, crossing one leg over the other from where she sat on the chaise in front of Pollen.

Pollen tried not to roll her eyes. “So, I want you to learn how to be self-sufficient.”

Chloe scoffed. “I am plenty self-sufficient.”

“Really?” Pollen had a sweet smile on her face. “Then prove it.”

:readmore:

Before Chloe could make any remark, Polle flew over to her school bag. It looked more like a purse, honestly, with how much makeup and accessories she had stashed away inside. Seriously, what did you need an extra pair of heels for?

Pollen shook off the thought and grabbed the binder Chloe used for class, as well as her homework folder. Brining both items back to the table, she flipped the folder open. She pulled out the first sheet of homework she saw- something math related- and waved a paw at it.

Chloe gave her a dumbfounded look. “You want me to do that? Sabrina normally does.”

Pollen raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine, I get it.” Chloe grumbled. “What does doing my own work have to do with being self-sufficient anyway?”

“When was the last time you did your own school work.”

“Ughhhh!”

Letting out a little giggle, Pollen decided to make a compromise, “For every question you get correct, I’ll let you ask a question about the Bee miraculous and its powers. However!” Pollen held a paw up before Chloe could get too excited, “For each you get wrong, you have to listen to some history and background on the miraculous.”

“Ooo-kay? How is that a loss for me? I still get to know what I want to know,” Chloe replied.

If only the poor girl knew.

Pollen beamed. “I’m glad you asked! You know how much you love our ‘Bee Nice’ Sessions?”

Chloe groaned.

“Anything I tell you will come along with lessons. I will tell you tales that are important for a number of reasons. And you have to sit through all of them!”

Chloe’s eye twitched. That sounded excruciating. Buuuut, she did want to know more about what powers the Bee miraculous could give her. It was just a simple math worksheet. Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. So Chloe took out a blank sheet of paper and began working.

She was wrong. So, so wrong. Chloe was by no means a bad student. She got solid B’s and pleased her daddy enough with her grades to get by. Did she need to have a study session with Sabrina before each test or quiz to get the contents down? Yes.

But that was all pish-posh. She figured if she could pick up enough for a test or quiz a day before it, she could do homework with no problem. Apparently, she hadn’t been giving Sabrina enough credit. That girl made it so much easier than this.

It didn’t help that her notes were a total disaster. Half-finished sentences, unclear instructions, and a clear lack of interest in each page. For a moment Chloe cursed her own apathy. She wanted to know more, damnit! 

By the time she finished she felt exhausted. Pollen, ever chipper, hummed as she looked through each question. She procured a pen and started making marks. That was a lot of red. Oh GOD, there was so much red.

Pollen tapped the pen to her chin in thought. Giving a nod, she wrote a score at the top of her sheet.

6/15. 

That was just under half! And that meant she would have failed had it been a test. Chloe resisted the urge to hit her head on the table. She could not afford to be forced into tutoring. Again.

Despite Chloe’s despair, Pollen was excited. This was better than she was expecting! Sure, she had been hoping for closer to a 75% or 80%, but Chloe at least had the idea down.

Plus this meant she could drill some more lessons into her charge.

Rubbing her paws together, she addressed Chloe. “Alright. Since it is almost an even split, let’s go back and forth with questions and history. I’ll start with a history lesson first, since you missed more than you got correct. But since I’m feeling nice, I’ll give you a choice here: Would you rather hear some history about my previous holders first, or about all the miraculous as a whole?”

“Your past wielders, of course! I need to know who would be so lucky to use the same miraculous as moi.” Chloe flipped her hair back to accentuate her point.

Pollen huffed. Nonetheless, she thought back to her past holders, humming all the while. Who would be the best to start with to help Chloe learn? 

She smiled as someone came to mind. “Now, before we start, I should say that we aren’t always deployed to battle some great evil. Sometimes, we are let out into the world to help inspire something. For me, I either inspire Order and Control. Or, when that gets to be too much, I inspire freedom from Order and Control.”

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted. “Why would you go against your whole Order thing?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about past wielders first,” Pollen brought a paw up to her lips to hide a smile. “To get into that would mean I would have to talk about all the miraculous.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Tell me the basics about all the miraculous first. But! You better tell me about your past users after!” Chloe conceded, pouting at the little god.

Pollen started again. “Like I said, we don’t always need a great evil to fight. At their core, each miraculous is meant to balance out their respective aspects. Tikki- Ladybug’s kwami- is the kwami of Light and Creation, for example. She is largely put out into the world to inspire new ideas and innovation.”

Chloe scrunched her nose in confusion. “Didn’t you say you also get put out to stop Order and Control? Why would you ever want to stop Light and Creation?”

“Well,” Pollen looked off to the side. “You can’t endlessly create. Tikki works on a more individual scale. She inspires Light and Creation in people as individuals. I, however, inspire Order and Subj- Control in a much larger scheme. After all, a bee’s focus is on the hive, isn’t it?”

“In any case, sometimes people burn themselves out when creating too much or spreading too much light. If you give and give and give, what is left for you? Nothing. And those left with nothing often crumble and fall apart- or worse. Tikki, when she is needed to, can either help her holder ease off themselves or help their holder teach others to let go of such demanding responsibility.”

Chloe nodded slowly. That… sort of made sense. “So it’s like when Adr- a friend of mine kept being happy and smiling even after his mother died to help others stop being sad. Because he wanted others to feel ‘lighter’” She made finger quotes, “Despite the tragedy that happened?”

“Yes, that could be a good example,” Pollen agreed. “If your friend gave away all his light and such to others, it could burn him out and leave him feeling empty and cold. Though, in this case I would lean more into the Peacock- he worked to give good emotion to others to cover their grief. But we’ll get there in a moment.”

“Plagg, Chat Noir’s kwami, is Tikki’s counterpart. He is the kwami of Dark and Destruction.” Pollen stopped as Chloe seemed to ponder that.

“If he is all about dark and destruction, wouldn’t that make him more likely to be evil?” Chloe mused.

Pollen, for her part, wasn’t bothered by the question. “If I am all about order and control, wouldn’t I be more likely to use and abuse people?”

Chloe bit her lip, but shook her head no.

“Exactly. Just because that is what we represent it does not mean we are prone to be good or evil. In the balance of all things, there IS no good and evil. Really, it just comes down to what a certain group likes or dislikes, or how a person’s morals are aligned.”

“Okay, no, Hawkmoth is totally evil. There is no doubt about that. How could taking control of others and using their emotions to turn them into monsters be seen as a good thing?” Chloe didn’t like the idea of Hawkmoth being in the ‘right’ at all. It went against everything he had done to Paris.

“Well,” Polled offered, “Does Hawkmoth see himself as evil?”

Chloe sat back in her seat. If movies were anything to go by, he probably didn’t. She sighed and motioned Pollen to continue

Pollen pushed on. “In any case, Plagg is often put into the world to ruin things. Surprising, isn’t it? But sometimes the best things are made in the ashes of destruction. Growing from losing things is important for many people. Like how your friend lost his mom- he likely felt sad and lost. But if he grew from that? He could learn to see that others will have his back and he can lean on them. Even in the hard times.”

Chloe looked away from Pollen. She was right, sort of. When Adrien’s mom died, Chloe had been there trying her best to cheer him up. Did it really work? No. But she helped him escape the house and run around the city with her, and watch stupid cartoons and shows, and sometimes, just sometimes, get him to smile.

“But losing your mom isn’t a good thing!” Chloe snapped back. “That devastated my friend and his family.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I painted it as such. Loss is a horrible thing to endure. But I wanted to make a connection to something you mentioned.” Pollen bowed her head. “Destruction is rarely a happy thing. But, a more positive example would be something more metaphorical- the destruction of insecurities, or breaking a bad relationship, or- or bashing down a wall so you can open up a room to have more space!”

Sighing, Pollen shook her head. “It is far too easy to see Dark and Destruction as a bad thing. Darkness can be used to hide when you don’t feel safe. Or it can be used to tone down how bright something is when you feel blinded. It can also be used as a complement and give things more depth.”

“Of course, Plagg has also been put out to tame destruction. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘fighting fire with fire’? It’s the idea that you fight destruction with destruction. But he can also help people see their bad habits, or the things that hurt them, and get them to reign them in and stop themselves before it’s too late.”

“Okay, sure, that makes sense. But didn’t you just describe Tikki and Plagg as opposites anyway? Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction? Why do they need to get people to go against their aspect when the other IS the opposite?” Chloe butt in.

Pollen brightened. “That’s technically later in this lesson, but I can touch on it now. You’ve likely noticed that Ladybug and Chat Noir came together as a pair, correct?” At Chloe’s nod, she continued. “That is because they are like Yin and Yang- opposites that complete each other. While other kwamis do have opposites, none quite work the same as Tikki and Plagg. They were once a single being- one that was the kwami of Balance.”

“Well,” Pollen rubbed her cheek, “They weren’t a kwami, per se. But that is too much to explain for right now. You recall how Hawkmoth’s goal is to get the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous?”

“Of course, that’s all he ever talks about when he akumatizes someone!”

“Well, that’s because when you combine the two into one you can have any wish granted.”

“What!” Chloe slammed her hands down on the coffee table, startling Pollen. “That’s horrible! I mean, the power is cool, but if Hawkmoth got his grubby hands on that wish who knows what he would wish for!” 

“Exactly! But there’s a catch with that- whatever you wish for will have an equal and opposite consequence. If you wished for someone to come back to life? Someone else must die. If you want to have all the power in the world? Everyone else must become powerless. These may sound simple, but the gravity is just as dire as the wish would be grand.”

Chloe fell back. “So, if I- well, if I wished for my mom to love me..?”

“It depends,” Pollen shrugged. “Maybe everyone else around you would hate you. Maybe your father would stop loving you. Or, in a more subtle fashion, she wouldn’t love the real you, just a facsimile of you. Whoever she thinks you are. Sure, there are ways to make a wish that has a mostly positive outcome- for the one making the wish- but the consequence will always hurt someone. Even if it has to be a lot of someones.”

The two fell into silence after that declaration. It was a heavy thought. What could drive someone to want to change something so badly they would be willing to suffer or let others suffer for it? How cold hearted must you be? 

The whole thing baffled Chloe. She could just ring her father and have what she wanted with no consequence. Could she imagine doing something so drastic as to ruin someone’s life to make hers better?

Instead of voicing any of this, Chloe leaned forward. “So tell me about the other miraculous…”

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Seven

(Gif's not mine.)

I am so sorry for only posting this chapter when Christmas is already over. I lost my initial draft and it was difficult to find time for writing since this season means lots of family time for me.

Anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy this last chapter. Previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist, just follow the link.

Chapter Seven 

Chapter warnings: Smut (mild), alcohol consumption (very mild). I think that’s it.

Ada grinned to herself as she slid under the white cotton bedcovers. It wasn't every day that she woke up before the Captain and she intended to make the most of it.

Kneeling on the mattress between his outstretched legs, she bent forward and licked the underside of his proud morning erection, from the base to the soft, pink glans where she made sure to trace the small slit. Sy's hips bucked up and his cock twitched in response, a soft moan escaping his parted lips, but he didn’t wake up just yet. Ada pouted for a moment - she wasn't feeling too patient this morning, not after the dream she had had.

This time, she grabbed his erection firmly at its base and proceeded to take him as deeply in her mouth and throat as her gag reflex would allow, hollowing her cheeks and humming softly.

His reaction was instant. His body went rigid and Sy sat up at once, a glazed look on his soft blue eyes. "Fuck, Ada!" He cursed loudly, carding a hand through his hair as he lifted the covers to look underneath.

His wife merely hummed around his cock, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Sy moved a hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb and feeling the outline of his cock inside her mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. "Come up here, I want to kiss you," he rasped, surprising himself with his own words when her mouth felt so heavenly around him.

Ada pulled her head back with a slight pop and scooted forward, straddling his strong thighs. They shared a kiss before her lips moved to hover by the shell of his ear. "Happy three-year anniversary of our first meeting," she whispered smugly. No, she had not forgotten.

Sy laughed, draping one large hand over the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him, her wet folds sliding over his cock in the process and making them both freeze for a second, caught up in the sensation. "Guess I hit the Jackpot three years ago."

Ada chuckled and began to roll her hips against his. The friction felt too good on her clit to stop. "Pity you didn't hit the Jackpot in Vegas," she teased lightly, her hand moving to his shoulder for balance as she raised herself on her knees before slowly impaling herself on his cock. Ada gasped quietly as Sy buried a moan against her neck, his beard grazing her skin.

"If memory serves, I did hit the Jackpot in Vegas when I married you," he murmured.

Ada laughed lightly, her walls rhythmically clenching around his cock. "Stop being so sweet and fuck me already."

For all his natural authority, the Captain did know how to follow an order, especially when it came from his wife. With her holding on to his shoulders for leverage as she rode him, Sy found his head nuzzling her cleavage, his beard leaving the skin of her breasts raw and sensitive. Neither seemed to mind.

All too soon, Sy lost his patience and wrapped an arm around his wife's middle. He began a punishing pace, making her cry out in the mixture of pain and sweet rapture.

The doorbell rang just as they were catching their breaths, still dizzy with bliss. Sy groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. "Is this becoming a trend now?!"

Ada laughed at his reaction, disentangling herself from him. "So, it seems," she chuckled. "Go see who it is."

Sy huffed next to her. "Why should I be the one going?" After all, he had been the one who had let Tom in when he had come over for dinner.

Cocking a brow at him, Ada's voice turned mischievous. "I don't mind getting the door. But I'll go naked with your cum running down my inner thighs."

He glared at her dumbfounded, but nothing indicated that she was joking. With a sigh, Sy got off the bed and put on a pair boxer briefs, pointing an accusatory finger at her as he walked out of their bedroom. "That shit's not funny."

°°°

Ada picked up the small envelope that came attached to the wicket basket that had been delivered by a deli, a smile spreading on her face as she read the message.

"It's from Tom," she announced. "He wishes us a merry and delicious Christmas."

“Why is it that anytime the bell rings at the worst moment, Tom’s always implicated.” Still, Sy looked impressed as he started taking out the various foods from the basket. There was all you needed for a copious brunch and even a cold bottle of champagne and orange juice to make mimosas.

Ada got up from bed to grab the plastic goblets where they kept their toothbrushes in from the bathroom. Drinking mimosas in those would be a first but she really didn't want to walk downstairs. When she got back in the bedroom, Sy was already munching on a warm cinnamon roll. "What did we get Tom for Christmas?" He asked with his mouth full.

Ada rolled her eyes, climbing back on the bed. "We," she said, stressing out the word as she looked pointedly at her husband, "gave him a perfectly preserved 1925 Underwood typewriter and had it delivered to his parents' house in Wiltshire two weeks ago already."

Sy swallowed the rest of the pastry. "We are very good and generous friends, indeed," he jested, trying to imitate Tom's British accent.

They ate and drank lazily in bed. With a full belly, Ada had half a thought to take a nap – she had exerted herself this morning after all - but it was noon already and she still had lots to do.

"What time does your mom want us over?"

"Seven o'clock is the official time but she's probably expecting us much earlier to help with the cooking and the baking."

Ada bit her lip. Sy wasn't going to like this. "I won't be able to make it before seven. I've got errands to run."

Sy sighed in response. "If you want to avoid them because of the sex tape thing-" He was interrupted when she hit him with the pillow.

"It's not about that but thank you very much for reminding me of it right when I had finally managed to stop thinking about it." She laughed, gulping down the rest of her mimosa to help with the remaining mortification.  

Leaning forward to kiss her, Sy stopped just before their lips could touch. "I expect you at seven o'clock at the latest, Mrs. Syverson." He warned before finally landing a peck on her lips. "And if that errand of yours is to find me a gift, I wouldn't mind a new desk chair to play the console."

Ada barked a laugh. "Did you really think I would leave it until Christmas Eve to get your gift? Let me tell you, Sy, I got you the ultimate present."

He cocked an eyebrow. Was that a challenge? After all, he had stayed up very late three nights in a row to organize her gift. After all the care packages she had put so much thought in while he was away, Sy really intended to surprise her. "Whatever it is, I'm sure yours won't beat mine, darlin'."

She looked pensive for a second and then stretched out her hand, smirking. "Wanna bet on it?"

Sy chuckled, throwing back his head against the pillow before finally nodding. "As you wish, darlin'. May the most thoughtful gift win."

°°°

The airport had always felt like a real maze to her and the unusual hordes of people really weren't helping. Apparently, a snowstorm had taken over the entire East coast and tons of flights had been either cancelled or delayed.

Ada groaned as she tried to find a path between the crowds. This would have been so much easier if Sy had been there with her - people had a tendency to naturally move out of his way. Eventually, Ada gave up and took off her high heels, deciding to walk barefoot instead. She was already dressed for the Christmas Eve dinner since she knew she'd be cutting it short and it was unlikely she'd have time to get changed later.

When her phone rang, she fished it out of her pocket and took the call without looking at the screen, cursing under her breath. If she didn’t get to the counter in time before it closed, her gift would fall through. "Yes?"

There were some rushed whispers from the other end of the line, but she couldn't make out a single word with the loud ambient noise. "I can't hear you."

"Please tell me you're not leaving! On Christmas of all days!"

Ada stopped in her tracks, a frown taking over her face. What the fuck was going on? "Madie, calm down. I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why are you at the airport?!" Madie retorted, her voice a stressed whisper.

"How do you even know I'm -" Right. She had forgotten she'd given her sister-in-law the ability to track her phone a few years ago when she was still new to the city and afraid of getting lost somewhere. "Never mind." Ada interrupted, shaking her head. "Look, I will be there tonight. I am simply running a little late. Is Sy okay?"

"I - He - Urgh!" Madie groaned in frustration through the phone. "He's in the kitchen with mom, they're making cookies. Sy was worried about you because he thought you would have been here by now. Something about it not taking ages to buy a desk chair."

"Did you tell him where I was?" Ada asked, cutting off her sister-in-law. She had finally arrived at the right counter.

"No! God, no! I didn't want to worry him."

"Good. Don't tell him. I'll be there in two hours, give or take."

"Two hours?! Ada no-"

She had already hung up and slid her phone back in her pocket. Plastering the biggest smile on her face, Ada walked up to the lady at the counter. "Hello. I'm Ada Syverson. Please forgive me for being late."

°°°

The quick stop at the store had been hell. Why there were still so many doing their Christmas shopping on the 24th at six in the afternoon, was beyond her. Admittedly, she was there as well but it was simply because Sy would have found it if she had purchased it sooner. Frantically, Ada rubbed her hands over her dress and coat, trying to remove as she waited for someone to open the door.

Helen’s house appeared to have been fully decorated for the season. Luke and Elaine excitedly grabbed Ada hands and dragged her inside before she could even remove her thin coat, proud to show her the table they had helped decorate. It was a nice, festive table indeed, and Ada decided not to point out that cutlery was put in the wrong order. Apparently, her parents were the only ones absolutely pedantic about that.

Sy came running to her with a plate of cookies in his hand. "I made them!" He announced, showing off the Christmas treats as if they were precious jewels.

Before Ada could grab one, Madie appeared behind him, playfully slapping the back of his head. "He might have made the cookies, but I decorated them. I want credit for my work."

Ada rolled her eyes at their siblings’ antics and picked up a cookie, humming appreciatively just to elicit a proud grin from her husband. The fact that they tasted this good didn’t leave a doubt that Helen has kept a close eye on him.

"You made it on time after all, darlin'," Sy pointed out.

Ada ran her tongue over her lips, catching the crumbles. "There was not much traffic," she replied, electing not to mention her excessive speeding.

Dinner was a cheerful affair. Phil mostly kept them entertained with stories of dumb, sometimes rude, customers from the hardware store. When dessert eventually rolled around, Helen thanked everyone for being there, tearing up. It was the first time in years that the family was fully reunited for Christmas and she wished her late husband could have been there with them.

When it got to midnight, Ada learned that the Syversons had a special Santa Claus conception that they taught the kids: Santa did exist, but he only brought gifts to less fortunate children whose families were unable to provide presents for Christmas. If a child was lucky enough that their family could afford gifts, they each had to donate a present to a charity. Joshua had accompanied Elaine and Luke to do so this morning.

They had long finished exchanging gifts and the kids were already playing with their new toys, yet Ada was still going over the binder on her lap, tears in her eyes. Sy had planned this meticulously. He had even made sure she got two weeks off in February and that they would have the same car waiting for them in Vegas so they could do their West coast road trip in the Camaro they had driven to Vegas the first time. 1811km from Las Vegas to Seattle – she couldn’t wait!

She was so enthralled by her gift, she hardly even noticed Sy squeezing her shoulders or Josh calling her name. "I'm sorry, what?" Ada blurted out, jumping up when Sy decided to tickle her to finally get her attention.

"I was asking whether you'd forgotten to get Jack something?" Her brother-in-law teased gently, making her realize that everyone had already exchanged gifts and she hadn't even noticed.

Ada laughed. "I didn't forget. It... It's just not something I could give him here," she replied, attempting to stay vague but it sent the wrong message and she saw Madie chuckle, looking away with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, it's something naughty, then?" Josh asked playfully and Ada swore she could almost physically feel the daggers Helen was staring at her. First, the sex tape and now this, she was slowly getting afraid of what his family would think of her at this rate.

Sy cut off the teasing with a sharp and stern 'hey' in Josh's direction who immediately raised his hands in defeat, much to his Luke's amusement.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sy leant down over Ada’s shoulders and whispered in her ear, smirking. "Is it? Something naughty, I mean."

Ada turned back at once, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Sy had the dumbest grin plastered on his face. "Not everything has to be naughty, you know," she chided light-heartedly, but Sy only laughed, until she pinched his thigh.

"Ada, will you come help me with the dishes?" Helen called from the other side of the room, startling her.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Ada silently pleaded Sy for help. The kitchen wasn't a big enough room for both Helen and her to come out alive. Yet, instead of getting her out of this, like any good husband would – might she add – Sy merely gave her an equally encouraging and bemused look.

Sighing, Ada got up on her feet and followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen. She grabbed a rag and awkwardly stood by the sink, waiting for Helen to hand her the clean dishes. They worked in silence, Ada carefully drying off the glasses, lest she have the bad luck of breaking something.

"I wanted to apologize," Helen said out of the blue.

Ada was caught by surprise. "What?" She blurted out before composing herself and shaking her head. "Excuse me, what?"

Helen sighed, drying her hands before turning to her. "I am sorry, Ada. For the way I've treated you."

"Oh." She gasped. Miracles did happen on Christmas then. Ada wasn't sure what to say. "It's okay."

The older woman frowned at her reaction. "Don't you want to know the reason?" Ada shrugged slightly. She was happy enough with the apology as it was. "I disliked you from the first moment because you were the reason my Jack missed Christmas with the family three years ago. It was the first time he was home for the holidays since he had been deployed."

Ada nodded slowly. Well, she could understand that. "Then my late husband slowly managed to convince me to give you a chance. He said that Jack wouldn't just marry any random girl," Helen paused, smiling briefly. "Well, on your first birthday here in Austin, I came by your house to drop off a gift and ask if maybe you wanted to go out for dinner. Once I got there, I saw you were already having dinner with someone else. A man. It looked like you were fun, and I naturally, perhaps foolishly, assumed the worst."

Ada opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was just Tom, but Helen silenced her with a wave of her hand. The woman had authority, it ran in the family apparently "A few weeks later, I saw you at the movies with the same man. That only confirmed my suspicions. I never told anyone, least of all Jack, because I didn't want to see him hurt, especially while he was still in Iraq but I was never able to move away from that."

"The man you saw me with is Tom. He's a good friend-,” Ada quickly explained as soon as her mother-in-law had finished talking.

Helen smiled, nodding softly. "Jack told me about Tom today. Said you three had dinner together, that Tom a kind man, and that the two of you were just friends."

"Well, it's true," she chipped in quickly.

"I believe you." Helen reassured Ada with a squeeze to her shoulder before heading back to the living room where the family was gathered.

Ada remained in the kitchen for a few seconds more, surprised by the turn of events but just as thankful.

°°°

"Nervous?" Sy inquired in the car, quickly glancing at her before moving his eyes back to the road.

Her brows furrowed. "What? Why would I be nervous?"

"You're biting your nails and checking your phone every few seconds." Sy told her, just as smug smile started taking over his face. "If it's about the gift, don't worry, darlin’. I know you couldn't possibly come up with a better gift than the one gave you."

Ada scoffed indignantly. "Let's see if your smugness remains once you see her."

"Her?" Sy asked just as she groaned at herself. Why had she let that slip? He laughed heartedly. "Darlin', Rihanna could be waiting for us at home for a private concert and it still wouldn't top my gift."

It was Ada's turn to laugh. "Perhaps not, but I'd definitely top her!"

°°°

“So, where is it?” Sy inquired as soon as they had made it through the threshold, looking around the ground floor to see if there was something new or unusual.

Even Ada was surprised nothing looked amiss. Her friend, Lily, also a volunteer from the animal shelter and who did not celebrate Christmas, had stayed over most of the evening and miraculously managed to keep the house intact. “Your present is in the study upstairs.” She told Sy, watching bemused as he quickly discarded his shoes to head upstairs.

“If you did get me a desk chair after all, I’ll kill you for all this suspense,” he threatened her playfully, landing a small kiss on her cheek before rushing up the stairs.

With a knowing smile, Ada leaned against the wall, waiting for Sy to open the door. Five seconds later, her husband’s excited voice reached her ears.

“Aika!”

The German Shepherd barked cheerfully in response. Despite the carpet flooring, she could hear the pitty-patter of the dog’s paws on the floor. Yes, they had both aced the challenge, Ada mused as she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. She grinned, shaking her head softly with amusement when she listened to Sy giving Aika the grand tour of the house upstairs.

"This is the bathroom. As you can smell, it ain't stinky like in Baqubah."

"Bedroom here. If you're real nice to mama, she might let you sleep here."

"The walk-in closet. Please don't come here a lot because you’ll get fur everywhere."

She looked up once she sensed them coming closer in the hallway upstairs. As soon as they appeared on the stairs, Ada started laughing at the sight. Sy was caring the German Shepherd in his arm like he would a toddler and Aika really seemed to be enjoying it.

"Be careful with the stairs, it's slippery 'cause of the varnish," Sy told the dog very seriously, sporting an authoritative frown before he caught sight of wife and smiled broadly, almost skipping over the last few steps.

"This is your mama," Sy introduced her, bringing the dog close enough to her face so that Aika could lick her cheek. Ada grimaced, making Sy scoff. "She's a bit uppity, but she's the best," he playfully whispered into the dog’s ear, as if sharing a great secret.

“Aika and I got acquainted in the car when I drove us home from the airport,” she told him, petting the dog’s snuff.

Sy finally set Aika down and she promptly ran off, exploring the ground floor and more specifically, the couch.

"I never thought you'd let me get a dog," Sy admitted, the grin still not leaving his face even as he leant down to kiss his wife. "Didn't even think you liked them."

Ada pulled back, looking offended. "I literally volunteer at the animal shelter weekly!"

"I know, darlin'. Just thought you would rather get a cat or a parrot, or something more Ada-ish."

She chuckled. Truth was she was still keen on getting a cat but now she'd have to find one that would get on with Aika.

Something weird in her peripheral vision caught her attention now that the lights were on, making her turn her head. "Is her fur... stained green?" It was the first time she’d had a good look at the dog under a bright light.

Sy laughed, clasping her shoulders. "Yes. Green dog means good dog. It’s a long story."

°°°

This is it. I hope you enjoyed the series. Thank you for reading!

I wish you a very happy New Year!

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​

[zeltricstudio]

'DEAD LAKE'

DAWN

MAY, 2011

“We’re finally here” Jacob Foster announced to his family – which consisted of his wife Maria and their two 16-year old kids Michael and Shelly – as they pulled up to the Cabin.

“Finally, my legs were killing me” Shelly announced as she stepped out and began stretching.

“I can breathe!” Michael said and began inhaling deeply.

“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, because we only got the cabin for the weekend” Jacob said gleefully.

“Well if you are done stretching, let us move in. I need to get started on dinner right away” Maria said, and the family began hauling their luggage to the cabin.

Jacob and Maria Foster both had the weekend off, so they decided to travel to Dawn and spend the weekend in the forest. The main plan was to go fishing, biking, and hiking and spend the weekend just enjoying nature. Once they had moved in and unpacked, it was time for dinner.

“I was expecting something out of a horror movie, but this cabin is nice” Shelly said

“Same. I mean it is in the forest near the ocean. That is a recipe for horror” Michael added

“How did you hear about this?” Maria asked Jacob

“A mate of mine recommended it. Said he spent the weekend hiking. Apparently the forest is lovely” Jacob replied

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Michael asked

“How does fishing sound?”

“Fishing sounds good” Shelly replied

“Yeah I can do fishing” Michael agreed

“How about you, honey?”

“Oh no thank you. The ocean terrifies me” Maria said

“It’s a lake” Michael jokingly said

“Well unless I’ve seen the bottom of it and can confirm there is nothing there, I am staying on land” Maria retorted

“Okay, so tomorrow us 3 will go fishing bright and early” Jacob said as he finished up.

The next morning, Jacob, Michael and Sally got dressed and headed out to the lake. The lake was ginormous, and they couldn’t even see the other side. The 3 got the boat into the water and drove into the ocean before stopping in the middle. The boat was a standard propulsion-engine boat and was big enough to seat 5 people, so they had a lot of leg room. Once the boat was settled, the 3 put the bait on their fishing rods and threw their lines into the ocean.

“So Michael, excited for the game next week?” Jacob asked, trying to break the silence.

“Yeah I am! We’ve been doing the football drills nonstop and the coach is working us extra hard” Michael said, secretly relieved to be relaxing for a weekend instead of training

“You’re going to crush them” Shelly said in support

“Thanks” Michael replied

Suddenly, Michael’s hook caught something, but his unpreparedness allowed his rod to fly off his hand and into the water.

“Damn it” Michael said as he reached over and picked it up from the water just before it sunk below his reach.

“Remember what I said? Always be prepared” Jacob laughed

“It must be a really big fish, it felt like a human was tugging my rod” Michael said, both confused and surprised at what had yanked his rod as he dried his hand.

“Maybe Dawn has some type of mega fish we don’t know about” Shelly joked

“I wouldn’t be surprised” Michael replied.

As time went on, they had yet to catch a single fish and didn’t notice that the fog had suddenly began seeping in.

“It’s been 2 hours and nothing” Michael said, slightly annoyed

“Yeah, aside from that mega fish nothing has happened” Shelly added, her disappointment in her voice

“I guess this spot might be a fluke” Jacob said, also defeated. “Want to head back and maybe get a quick hike in before we go back to the cabin?”

“Yeah” Both Michael and Shelly replied.

As Jacob started the engine up, they all heard a splash.

“What was that?” Jacob asked, looking around

“I heard it too” Shelly said

“Must be the mega fish, coming for us” Michael joked

“Well it gets to live to see another day” Jacob said as he tended to the engine again.

Jacob pulled and the engine sputtered. He tried to do it again, but another splash came, this time louder. Jacob stopped and looked around, before going back and pulling the engine cord again. This time something hit the boat.

“Woah! What was that?” Shelly asked, now scared

“I don’t know, but I am not sticking around to find out” Jacob replied and began pulling the engine cord

“Uh guys, what is that?” Michael asked and pointed to a creature in the fog.

The creature looked like a fish, except it had the shape of a human head. When all 3 turned to look at it, it went underneath.

“Dad?” Shelly turned to look a Jacob

“I don’t know sweetie” Jacob said, now scared.

As Michael put his hands on the edge of the boat to try and lean in, he quickly noticed that same creature underneath and pulled his head back in time before the creature could swipe him.

“Woah!” Michael said as he fell into the boat.

“What is that?” Shelly asked, now on the defense

“Damn it” Jacob said as he tried again with the engine, but another sputter came out.

The boat was rocked again as a creature hit it; this time much harder.

“Fuck it” Jacob said and picked up a paddle, planning on rowing back to shore.

“Michael, get the paddle and-“ Jacob was suddenly cut off as the creature jumped up and impaled Jacob’s arm with it’s fin. As Jacob screamed in pain, they all got a good look at the creature. It had the form of a human, but its skin was a dark green shade, with scales all over. It had fins on its head and elbows. Its eyes were hollowed out and it had no mouth. The creature was covered in vines and moss. Jacob instinctively punched the creature and its grip let go and fell into the water, making a splash.

“Dad, are you alright” Sally asked as she tended to his wounds.

“I’m fine, Michael try and get the engine working” Jacob commanded, and Michael got to pulling.

“Sally, get away from the edge” Jacob said and Sally moved to the center of the boat. Jacob picked up a paddle and held it firmly. A few more splashes were heard before another creature jumped onto the boat. Jacob quickly slapped it with the paddle before it could hoist itself up and the creature fell back into the water. The engine suddenly came to life and Michael pulled the trigger and off the boat went. As the trio sailed, they felt more and more bumps, each one with ferocity. To their fear they suddenly heard wood being ripped and Shelly spotted a creature hanging onto the boat. She picked up a paddle and pried it off. Unfortunately, the engine began stuttering, before coming to a halt.

“Oh no no no” Michael said, now scared. He looked over and noticed several claw marks on the engine, with a large one tearing into the engine and an oil leak.

“Those things, destroyed the engine!” Michael announced, now terrified.

“Michael take this” Jacob said and handed the paddle to Michael. Jacob pulled out a pocket knife and the 3 turned back-to-back as they waited. Eventually the water became still and silence became deafening.

“Daddy? What are those things?!” Shelly screamed, not realizing how scared she was”

“I don’t know!” Jacob replied. “I don’t know” Jacob repeated, now terrified as they were trapped.

As the three waited, a creature jumped into the boat, this time all the way and sat perched on the edge. The boat slightly rocked as Michael attempted to push the creature off with the paddle, except the creature swiped the paddle, cutting it in half. As Michael stood dumbfounded, Jacob went and kicked the creature, catching it off guard as it fell into the ocean. From behind, another creature jumped and stabbed Michael in both shoulders with its claws, before attempting to drag him down. Jacob instinctively grabbed Michael’s hands and tried to keep him from being dragged. As Shelly was about to help Michael, another creature jumped onto the boat, this time standing inside it. Shelly turned and tackled the creature over the boat.

“Ahhhh!” Michael screamed in pain, as Jacob tried pulling him up.

“Hold on son-“ Jacob tried comforting his son, but soon another pair of claws came through Michael’s abdomen. Jacob was forced to let go as the weight became too heavy and with his shoulder injury making him weaker. Michael fell into the water with a heavy splash.

“Michael!” Jacob screamed in shock. Shelly went over to Jacob to comfort him, but she was stopped when another creature hopped onto the boat. As Shelly ran to tackle it, the creature dug its feet into the boat and Shelly ran into it, but didn’t move it. It wasn’t till now did Shelly realize how big this thing was. It was easily over 6 feet and very muscular. As Shelly took a step back, the creature stabbed Shelly in her shoulder, causing her to scream in pain.

“Ahhhhhh!” Shelly’s scream pierced the silence. Jacob quickly recomposed himself but before he can rush to Sally’s aid, another creature jumped up and stabbed him in the back, before attempted to pull him in. Jacob took his pocket knife and stabbed the creature in the face repeatedly, causing it to release its grip on him. Shelly unfortunately was stabbed again, this time through the chin and her screams stopped. The creature then picked her up and threw her overboard, making a deafening splash as she hit the water.

“NO!” Jacob screamed and rushed the creature, with his knife going for the heart. The creature shrieked when the knife made an impact, sounding like a human scream underwater. The creature pushed Jacob backwards, before jumping back into the water. Jacob quickly got back up and kept his knife close to him, before moving to the center and turning around, making sure no creature got behind him. Jacob was suddenly aware of every sound being made. The peaceful silence was now terrifying as he knew it meant the creatures were waiting. As Jacob began panicking, 5 creatures jumped from the water at once. Jacob tried stabbing one, but its skin hardened and the knife just slid off. The creature slashed Jacobs stomach, causing him to stumble backwards to the front of the boat. The 5 creatures stood still, staring at Jacob, waiting for him to make the next move. Jacob stood at the edge, locked in an intense staring competition with these creatures. Suddenly a sixth creature jumped and stabbed both of Jacob’s knees from behind, causing him to buckle down. The other 5 creatures then ran and sunk their claws into his chest. The momentum and weight of all creatures was enough to push Jacob overboard.

“Arghhhggg” Jacob’s scream turned into muffled garbled as water quickly entered his lungs. The 6 creatures dragging him continued stabbing and after a grueling minute, Jacob stopped screaming, struggling, and moving. The creatures then began tearing the boat, causing enough damage and holes that it began sinking.

Maria woke up around 12:00 and was surprised to see that no one was back in the cabin. She walked down to the lake and noticed the boat was not back, so she assumed that they were still out. At around 5 they had not returned so she called the Ranger. They sent a crew out but they found nothing. A Search Party was formed and after a week, they were not able to find any evidence of what happened to her family. Maria had to return home, forever saddened that she never knew what happened to her family.

2 Weeks after the Foster Incident, the lake was closed off due to similar reports of disappearing people. “Yeah, do you think it’s time?” A man in a black suit said on his phone, standing behind the metal fencing closing off the shore. “Yes, people are beginning to ask questions and if the public knew what was in those waters, it would be hell” the man on the other end replied, sounding angry. “Affirmative, send in the S.E.C.T.” The agent replied, before hanging up.

[azritesx3]

Confidence

Request: Anon - Hello! Can you write a Lucifer fic where the (F) reader has a gruesome scar on her face & her confidence/attitude is basically “take it or leave it” & this helps Lucifer with his own self image with his Devil face? It can be fluff, angst, smut, whatever you want.

AN: I need to write faster ^-^""". Hope you enjoy Anon! AN: Updated August 22, 2020 - Grammar. Reupload!

Description: Apparently, trying to find a boyfriend was much more difficult than becoming a model with your scarred up face. Who knew?

Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing

AO3 / Fanfic Net / Wattpad / DeviantArt

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Your phone alarm goes off.

"Time to get ready." You breath out. You stretch your arm to grab your phone off the little table next to you and turn the alarm off. You stretch out on your patio lounge chair, cracking a few bones in your back. You finish off your glass of wine and stand.

Walking inside of your penthouse you grab the stereo remote and play your favorite song, "Confident" by Demi Lovato. After a quick trip to your kitchen to dispose of the glass in the dishwasher you walk into your bedroom and into the bathroom. After a quick shower to rid yourself of sunscreen smell you wrap a robe around yourself and start styling your hair. You then put some light makeup on and head to your walk-in closet.

You stand there, tapping your foot to the song as you look around at your clothes.

You had faith in your blind date tonight. This was the first guy to take you somewhere expensive. You're hoping that means he'll have better class than just blatantly stare at your face the whole night.

You've heard of the place that he's taking you to: a VIP bar named LUX. You've never been to it, mainly because a man who calls himself the "Devil" runs the place, and clearly anyone whose psycho enough to call themselves that has to have an awful establishment.

But the reviews you've seen have all been five stars, and after scrolling through the comments section for about an hour no one said anything bad about the place.

They also all praised the owner.

You decide on a short, tight, red lace dress with half long sleeves. You pair it with black high heels and various black pieces of jewelry. You receive a text from your date saying he's arrived, and after spraying on some perfume as well as one final check in the mirror you head on down.

Please, be the one.

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

He was not the one.

The poor guy tried his best, though. Making sure his eyesight was trained on the road and not your scarred/burned up side of face that was next to him. You gave him an hour and allowed him to buy one drink before you told him this wouldn't work out.

He even apologized. The gall, really.

"I'm surprised you let it last that long. Didn't look fun at all."

You raise your one brow up at the man who now sat next to you at the bar. Tall, dark, handsome, wore an expensive suit and a smile as he sipped his drink.

"It wasn't. Nothing new for me though." You say as you take another sip of your drink.

The man hums in response, then holds out one hand to you, "Pardon me, darling. Lucifer Morningstar."

Oh great. You politely shake his hand back, "Y/N L/N."

"Of course you are. The beautiful new upcoming model." His smile turns flirtatious.

You roll your eyes, "Please. Don't blatantly lie in your flirtations just to make me feel better."

Lucifer looks offended, "I'm not trying to make you feel better at all. You said this was a natural occurrence for you, shame really, and you look fine. Also, I never lie."

"Never? That's hard to believe."

"For you humans, perhaps." He chuckles at the look on your face, "Right. The name doesn't lie, dear. I am the Devil."

"Uh huh." You turn back to rest your elbows on the bar and continue your drink.

"Typical reaction." His smile dims slightly, "Do you not believe you're beautiful?"

"Of course I believe I'm beautiful." You look back at him offended, "Which is why I don't need you men to continue saying it like I don't know or believe in it."

"Oooh, feisty. Perfect." His flirtatious smile is back.

"So, why are you here Mr. Morningstar, if not to think you'd make me feel better?" You swirl your drink in the glass and study him.

"I thought I'd give you a better date." He gestures to his body, "Myself!"

What Lucifer Morningstar expected was the normal flushed face and glossy eyes that humans usually give him when he flashes his smile and eyes.

Instead, you laughed.

And laughed.

The Devil had never been more confused in his whole life, "Well, this is a new reaction to me." He mutters.

"You?" It takes a while, but you manage to speak again, "What makes you think I'd want to date you?"

"Uh, have you looked at me, darling?" He gestures to himself once more, "I'm beautiful, rich, have impeccable style, and confidence to match your own. Surely that's all the qualities you're looking for?"

You laugh again, "You? Confidence?" You continue to laugh.

Lucifer was getting annoyed now, "I'd very much like to know what's so funny!"

After calming down again you look him dead in the eyes, "I, in no way, see confidence in you Mr. Morningstar."

The Devil is speechless.

"You're clearly a man who hides behind the Devil facade to make people love and fear him. I see nothing 'Devil' about you." You get up from your seat and collect your purse, "Thanks for the laugh. Good night 'Mr. Morningstar'." You leave the dumbfounded man.

"See?" A few minutes after you left Mazikeen walks up from behind the bar to collect your empty glass. Lucifer still sat where he was and his eyes were still trained on the door you left from, "Even humans are starting to see how soft you've become."

The Devil looks to his demon bodyguard. She gives him a stank eye and smile before walking away. Lucifer looks back to the door.

"I am the Devil." He mutters quietly to himself. He then gets up and retreats to his penthouse for the rest of the night.

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

You suppose one thing Mr. Morningstar got correct in his "Devil" play is that the Devil never leaves you alone when he finds you.

Which is why you aren't too surprised to catch his figure behind the flashing cameras.

"Mr. Morningstar." You nod a hello to him when your photo shoot finally finished.

"Ms. L/N." He smiles at you and follows you to your changing room.

You sit down in front of your vanity and start taking off the accessories and wiping off the makeup, "So, this face of mine couldn't leave your mind, I take it?"

"Oh absolutely! Not in the way you're thinking though." You watch him from the mirror come to stand behind you. He smiles at your reflection and leans in behind you, "I do hope you couldn't get my face out of your mind either, darling."

You weren't going to admit how the past few nights your dreams had been about him. You suppose his strong sex appeal is another thing he got right in his Devil act.

You raised an eyebrow in response to his reflection, and apparently that's all an answer he needed. His face became incredibly smug.

"Why are you here Mr. Morningstar?"

"To ask for your assistance Ms. L/N."

You look at his reflection quizzically, "With?"

"Confidence."

Your eyebrow raises, "Why come to me?"

"Because clearly you must be a master at it if you think I, the Devil, lacks it."

You watch him carefully in the mirror for a moment. You see him fidget with his ring slightly and notice how his eyes looked away for a second when he asked. Asking for help with this clearly upsets him in some way.

You grab a napkin from your vanity and write down your address. You stand and face him while holding out the napkin, "Here's my address. Meet me there. I should be there within the hour."

He takes it and pulls on a flirtatious look, "If this is your kind of help I should definitely be a master at confidence."

You shake your head and look at him seriously, "If you seriously want my help with your confidence then meet me there and lose the flirtations." You cross the room and open the door, "Now please excuse me while I change."

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

"I see you enjoy living the high life as well." Lucifer comments as you open the door to your penthouse.

"Figured I deserve it with the life I've had." You reply as you set your things down on your coffee table. You notice Lucifer staring at you with that unspoken question most people ask, "Go ahead."

"I don't much care how that happened to you, but more whoever did that has been punished." Lucifer looks genuine in his anger, and that makes you open up more to him.

"Yeah, I'm making sure they are." You head into your kitchen to pour yourself and Lucifer a glass of wine. You hand him his glass and continue, "Parents. They're low life dealers who used their 'accident' to pass around their drugs. Cops don't suspect a little girl." You take a sip of your wine while Lucifer just holds the glass and watches you, "I stupidly said how I wanted to be a model when I grow up, and they freaked. If I go so does their business. So," you gesture the left side of your scarred and burned face, "real life 'Two Faced' was made."

"Where are your parents now?" Lucifer's voice was tight, and you notice the grip on his glass tighten.

"Jail. Where I make sure they'll be for the rest of their lives."

"That's good enough for you?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I ruined their perfect little drug life business and made a name out of myself. That's 'punishment' enough, knowing their fucked up faced accident will have a better life than them."

"I see." Lucifer looks down at his glass and downs it to calm himself, "We happen to have something in common, my dear." He sets the glass down on your counter.

"Oh?"

"Yes...my Father gave me a scar of sorts. A new face to represent my unholy deeds."

"I don't see it."

"...I hide it."

"And that's your problem." You set your glass down and motion for him to follow you, "It took a long time for me to be comfortable with this new face. I've learned you need to push through and work with what you got to have a comfortable life."

You lead him through your bedroom and walk-in closet to the secret door behind some old clothes. You open the door and step into a tiny room of infinite mirrors.

"This helped me a lot." You say as you step inside the small space and spin around. "Anywhere I look I can't escape this face, this past of mine. I have to own it. I have to love it in order to live." You step out of the room and to the side, "Bring out your scars. Face them head on. You can't escape from them. They’re your life. Own them."

Lucifer takes a deep breath in and out. He tugs on his suit jacket and cufflinks before entering the mirror world and closing the door.

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

Enough time passes for you to become hungry. You decide to start making dinner for yourself, and Lucifer, while you continue to wait. When you start making up plates is when he finally emerges.

"This is...more difficult than I thought." He says to you as he goes to stand on the other side of your kitchen island.

"No one can do it in one day." You turn around and hand him a plate of food, "But I already see a difference in you. Not quite the 'Devil' you claim to be, but a man taking the first step into his self consciousness."

He accepts the food and sits on a stool, "Not sure where I can put a room like that in my home."

"You don't have to. You're free to come over whenever to face it." You sit down next to him and give him a small smile, "I'd like to watch the progress, and hopefully see this 'Devil'."

"It's more hideous than I realized, darling. You'd become a melting pool of fears if you saw it."

"I have my own Devil, Lucifer." You take a bite of food, "I think I'll be fine."

"Hm." He starts eating his food, "We'll see about that."

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

Months go by. Lucifer's visits to you and your mirror room become more regular as his time with the LAPD becomes less. His edge and sharpness returns. His cockiness and King nature return in full force. Detective Decker tells her partner to not come back until he's back to normal.

But this is his normal, he realizes. He's the Devil. Why would the Devil let a human woman change him into the man his Father desires?

He doesn't care. He enjoys his time with you more and more. He enjoys how you accept him, the bad and good mixed together.

Today's the sixth month he's been doing this experiment. He's currently standing in your mirror room. Devil face on. He smiles.

"Are you ready, darling?" He calls out.

"Yes, Lucifer. Show me your scars. Show me your confidence."

He exits the room. Devil still on along with the smile. It takes you a moment, but you smile back and wrap your arms around his neck. His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you tight against him.

"Now there's the confidence I'm looking for in a man. I'd like that date now."

[piccolina-mina]

The Art of Reciprocity

A/N: For @shadowandbones, the only person who could ever get me to write kysobel/kybel.💙 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She pressed a manicured nail hard on the doorbell, not bothering to let up.

She couldn’t tell if the buzzer was working or not, so she knocked on the door for good measure, until she heard a muffled thump and swearing. Then a series of locks were unlatched and the door was wrenched open.

She smiled, syrupy sweet at a disheveled looking Kyle, stepping across the threshold and pushing past his lame attempt to block the entrance.

“No, by all means, come in, Isobel,” he mumbled, shutting the door and shuffling, barefoot back to a makeshift cocoon of blankets on the couch.

“No worries, I already did,” she tossed back, taking in her surroundings, her nose crinkling at Kyle’s questionable taste in decor. 

She could work a miracle there. It screamed “bachelor pad,” and while he was neater than she would’ve imagined, it could have used a bit of a feminine touch.

God knew the Sheriff didn’t count. She was pretty certain the only time Sheriff Valenti would’ve witnessed the full spectrum of the rainbow is if she actually showed the woman her pleasure treasure trove.

“I was being polite. I could’ve come in on my own.”

“You being polite? Never!” Kyle snorted as he burrowed into a pile of blankets.

He stiffened when she plopped down next to him and kicked her feet up on the coffee table as if he still hadn’t gotten used to how she encroached on space without warning.

“You mind?” He nodded pointedly at her feet on his table, and she rolled her eyes, but took them off and kicked her shoes off too. She looked smug.

For a brief moment, she wondered if he would say something else, but a forced smile was frozen on his face.

She shrugged, her eyes landing on a pathetic looking sandwich on a saucer. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of it, so she snatched a half and took a bite, blanching at how utterly tasteless it was with its sad, wilted lettuce and boring multigrain bread.

“Kyle, this is – this is sad, man,” she said around a mouthful of sandwich that she unceremoniously spit back out on the saucer.

“I was going to eat that,” he stared, disgusted at the chewed up bits that landed on top of the other half.

“You shouldn’t, though,” she took a swig of his Gatorade, ignoring his dissent and smacking his hand away.

She choked back the pungent beverage that reminded her of melted popsicles on hot summer days in the desert. “You should have better standards.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said tiredly, snatching the bottle back from her and placing the cap on it. He sighed, collapsing back into his mountain of blankets as if the mere act tuckered him out.

She took in his appearance for the first time since she got there. His normally well-styled hair was damn near plastered to his forehead. His face had a sunken pallor unlike its usual tan, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

His t-shirt had patches of sweat, and his skin glistened with sweat even though he shivered on occasion. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he had some killer stubble action going on.

“You look like sh!t,” she mused out loud. “Yet still doable,” her tongue darted out to lick her lips because the stubble was definitely hot. “It’s unfair, really.

“I don’t get sick, Doc, so I’ll be fine.”

“Isobel,” he blinked slowly, unamused as tired eyes met hers. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but what exactly are you doing here?”

“Can a girl just drop by and chat with a friend?” She quipped. She batted her eyes playfully.

“We’re friends?” He deadpanned.

It came off both lighthearted and honest, the latter causing her to recoil a bit. Her lips turned downward as she refrained from a snappy comeback because … were they?

And in his defense, she did come over there with an ulterior motive, so was he wrong?

His expression softened, picking up on her shift in mood despite her best attempt to hide it, put that mask of hers back up, the one she had perfected for the better part of two decades.

He opened his mouth intending to walk back his comment, except before he could say more he was overcome with a coughing fit. 

His whole body convulsed with each cough, and he groaned when he was through.

A small part of her was amused that even physicians suffered from a man cold.

He feebly reached for his meds, and she used her powers to pop the lid off and place a couple of pills in his hand. She telekinetically pushed the Gatorade in his other palm too.

“Thanks,” he said, out of breath. He threw back the meds and rested his head on the back of the couch for a moment.

“How about I make you something to eat?” She swiped her palms across her jeans and stood, making her way to his kitchen and rummaging through his cabinets without so much as waiting for a response.

“You’re going to cook?” Kyle sputtered, dumbfounded. “For me?”

“Why is it so hard to believe I can be nice?”

“Isobel-” Kyle started.

“Don’t answer that. Yeah, I’m going to cook for you,” she slammed a few cabinets and arranged a bunch of on ingredients on the counter.

“Southwestern Chicken Soup,” she frowned. “Well, a variation of it, you know, you have a surprisingly well-stocked fridge. Last time I was at Michael’s, all I found was boxed mac ‘n cheese and Twinkies.”

“Isobel-” Kyle began again, watching the blond studiously ignore him while getting down to work. “I just-”

“Why don’t you do us both a favor and go shower,” she pointed the edge of a knife in his direction, nose upturned at his sweaty state. “Take your time, if we’re lucky, and you do it right, everything will be done once you’re out.”

She couldn’t resist the potshots, but his brow arched, more amused than offended. So much for hitting him where it hurt in retaliation.

She angrily chopped vegetables, the action serving as a release for her pent-up frustration. She busied herself assembling the soup, then searched high and low for any alcohol beyond the unappealing drafts in the back of the refrigerator.

She followed the sound of running water toward Kyle’s bedroom, dark colors, and sports paraphernalia abounded, and not only didn’t she bother knocking on the bathroom door, but she yanked back the shower curtain too.

“Kyle – stop shrieking,” she snorted at his surprised yelp. “It’s just me. Hey, do you have any wine?”

She never clocked him for the modest type, but it still surprised her when he stood stark naked, soap and suds pooling at his feet, and stared at her more exasperated than anything else.

“Isobel, do you have any comprehension of privacy?”

“Relax,” she gave him a slow once-over, biting her lip against her own volition. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. You saw mine, and I most certainly got to see yours,” her eyes roamed downward with appreciation before returning to his face. “Consider us even. Wine?”

“No, just beer. What can I say? I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Cute,” she yanked the shower curtain closed.

“So you keep saying,” Kyle chuckled beneath the rushing water.

She turned the cold water up with her mind, and he yelped as she slammed the door.

He didn’t say much when he was done. He smelled amazing, like himself, and it brought some color back into his face. He seemed revitalized but also more relaxed, as he sat on the stool across the island from her.

 She could feel his eyes on her as she slid a heaping bowl of soup in front of him while leaning against the island and finishing off a half-empty bottle of beer.

He ate in silence, enthusiastically, she noted, and she secretly applauded herself for impressing him, even if he didn’t admit it.

“This is amazing, Isobel. Thank you,” he shoveled the last spoonful in his mouth.

Go figure; Kyle wasn’t spiteful or petty. He wasn’t – he wasn’t like her.

“Thank you,” he said again. His voice was soft – his eyes earnest and genuine. He reached across and rubbed her arm, and the intimate gesture sent warmth throughout her.

He knew she was attracted to him, and she propositioned him often, but it wasn’t just that he looked like a deity carved from stone. Kyle was a good guy, warm and cool at once, and he was so easy to be around. With Kyle, she could just … be.

With Kyle, she felt like the only thing that mattered was the present, not her past and who she was then, not her future and who she could be.

For Kyle, the present was enough, and since that’s all she could figure out, day by day, minute by minute, she appreciated the comfort in that, in him.

“So, Isobel,” Kyle flashed her that warm, disarming smile that cut through to the core of her. “Are you going to tell me why you really came over here?”

In hindsight, the only reason she was so agitated with his earlier response was because of how right he was, how right everyone was.

She did only come over for selfish reasons, and she didn’t know how to not be so self-absorbed, but she was trying. She wanted to be better.

“How did you do it, Kyle?” She attempted to sound lighthearted, but her voice cracked at the end. It hadn’t gone unnoticed based on the way his eyes widened infinitesimally. “How did you figure out how to be a better person?

She half shrugged, threw in a crooked smile too, and hoped he didn’t see the vulnerability in her eyes, hear it in her voice. Smell the loneliness on her skin.

She felt unsteady, constantly, endlessly unsettled. She felt like, at 28 years old, she didn’t know shit about herself, and she was starting from scratch.

She didn’t know who the hell she was, and if she didn’t know, how could she expect anyone else to?

“In high school, you were –”

“Kind of a dick?” He offered sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. Not my finest time.”

“And apparently, I’ve always been a bit of a bitch,” she mused.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he contested, his head canted to the 

“You would be one of the few who didn’t.”

“Isobel, you’re human,” he frowned. “Well, close enough. You’re not perfect; no one is.”

“You are,” she joked.

“Not even close,” he argued with a scoff.

“Everything in my life is a lie, and everyone important in my life is stuck with me, they never chose me. My own husband didn’t even lo–” a lump caught in her throat as her eyes misted over.

“I distinctly remember a certain bartender choosing you, only you, out of a bar full of women. That wasn’t a fluke, Isobel.”

“Yeah, because she didn’t know me,” she argued, picking a carrot out of his soup bowl and popping it into her mouth to give her something else to do.

“No, because she did know you because you allowed yourself to be known. No rudeness, or snottiness, no snarky comments, or a prickly exterior, just you, letting go, being … you.”

She wanted to argue, but he shook his head. “You want to know how I became a better person? I’m not. I work every day to be better than I was the day before with the understanding that there’s no end to it." 

"You care to give me something I can work with, Yoda?” She snarked.

“Alright,” he sat back. “For starters, being aware of the other people around me certainly helps.”

“Like at the very least noticing that someone is sick after you’ve bogarted your way into their house?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he replied coolly. “Look, I had to face who I was and the things that I had done, work through my own shit, and the rest just fell into place.

"Life happened. It has a way of beating you down and teaching you lessons. My world expanded beyond this small town and my small thinking or that of those around me.

I forged my own path, focused on me instead of what others thought of me. By doing that, I became better for myself and everyone else. I grew up; every day I’m growing up, and so are you, if you allow yourself to. You stop fighting the process, and it all goes smoothly.”

“And as for others, Isobel, you can’t have real friends until you actually learn how to be one. It’s not always about someone choosing you. It’s about you choosing them, and then putting in the work to show why it’s worth it, why they’re worth it, why you’re worth it.  And you are. Worth it.

He ducked his head, made eye contact with her even though she attempted to look away blinking back tears she refused to let fall.

"All you have to do is get out of your own head, get out of your own way, and show up.”

He gave her that full smile that let her know he wasn’t being a dick. 

“You’re so busy wondering why you don’t have friends that you can’t see that you do. You know who your friends are?

They’re the ones who show up for you, the ones who will make you a priority. You know how you become a better friend? Return the favor. It’s as simple as that.”

His voice drifted off on the last line, and he stifled another cough. 

He patted the counter, gave her a tight-lipped smile, and hoisted himself off the stool. He was giving her space after saying his piece.

He shuffled to the couch and slumped down, kicking his own feet up on the coffee table and toyed with the remote. 

For the first time since she waltzed in, she was unsure of her presence. She cleaned up the kitchen, put things away, and placed the leftovers into the refrigerator.

She meandered in the kitchen, not really wanting to leave but unsure if she should stay.

“Can you bring me another Gatorade when you come back in here?" 

It was as if Kyle read her uneasiness, her reluctance, and she released a relieved titter as she brought him another drink, looming over him as she held it out.

He grabbed it, not releasing it for a bit, dark eyes boring into hers as if he was searching.

For what? She didn’t know, but he had a way of stripping her bare with one glance, it rattled her but also thrilled her, comforted her being looked at and seen.

But still, "You gonna stop batting those browns at me? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were the one trying to undress me with your eyes,” she joked.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Isobel. Saw it all before, remember?” The slight smirk took the sting out of it. “I was just wondering if you were a Wendy or a Ruth." 

"What?”

“How do you feel about drug cartels?” He ignored her confusion, queuing up his Netflix. 

“Is that a trick question? Are you part of some criminal enterprise in between surgeries and alien research, Valenti?”

“Haha, I’m being nice, I’m willing to sit through the first two episodes of Ozark again to catch you up, but if we ever plan on making it through the first season today, we gotta start now.”

“I’m…” she squinted at the screen. “That’s… isn’t that like ten hours?”

He waved at his bundle of blankets, sweats, and Kleenex boxes. “I don’t have any other plans today, do you?”

“Me? You want to binge a show about drug dealers  … with me?”

“My house, my choice. And I’m sorry, I’m not watching Outlander or whatever,” he continued, burrowing into the covers again.

“Yeah, no, but–”

“It’s always more fun bingeing with a friend,” he shrugged casually. 

The obnoxious gong of Netflix played at the same time she plopped on the couch next to him. 

But she couldn’t take her eyed off of him, his profile, relaxed, and unbothered by her, by her company. High cheekbones, strong jawline, and long eyelashes. 

Warmth flooded her chest. 

“It starts off hot, if you keep glaring at me, you’re going to miss stuff, and I’m not starting it over again,” he murmured. 

She leaned in close, tilted his head toward her with a manicured finger beneath his chin, her face impossibly close.

“Kyle,” her voice dropped an octave, as their faces were centimeters apart, she could smell the body wash still clinging to his skin, the spices from her soup on his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what,” he whispered, barely moving his lips, meeting her hooded eyes with his own.

She pressed her lips against his, a searing hot kiss, sucking his bottom lip between her own, nibbling, then soothing it with her tongue. Her fingers playing with his hair at the base of his neck.

She pulled away, leaving his lips swollen, his mouth slightly ajar, eyes a bit unfocused. She knew he was constantly thrown off by her temerity, but he never seemed to hold it against her.

“For being my friend,” her voice cracked at the end, and he was back to looking at her like he could see her soul.  She averted her eyes, settled in resting her head on his shoulder as she pulled her feet up on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she broke their comfortable silence halfway in.“How do I remind you of Wendy and Ruthie? Wendy’s bitchy, and Ruthie is obnoxious!"  Kyle shrugged, with a wicked grin.

"You’re an ass,” she hissed, punching him in the shoulder.

“Oh, but you like it,” he teased.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d also ride it,” she sighed. 

“Isobel,” he choked on his drink, and she held her chin up triumphant and unapologetic. 

“Hey, do you have any… dude, hold your arms up over your head,” she whacked him on the back as he sputtered and coughed.

“Anyway, do you have any popcorn?” She stared at the screen with rapt attention, unaware of him glaring at her with watery, red-rimmed eyes.

“Screw you,” he replied with no heat.

“Hey, I keep offering. You’re the one who says no. Now, are we watching this, or are you going to keep talking about your feelings, Valenti?”

She didn’t give him time to respond. Instead, she turned the volume up and stretched out on the couch half sprawled on him, ignoring his protest.

It felt good having a friend.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

[ohtheseboysilove]

Ghost from the past IV [ Roger Taylor x F!Reader ]

Words :  3, 800 K +

Warnings : language, angst, humiltation

Summary :  Reader and Roger are in love and happy. Until Ally, first love and ex-girlfriend of Roger come back after years of silence, bringing chaos in their perfect life.

Note : I don’t why I’m so mean with poor reader but I swear I can’t stop. I do know Freddie wasn’t a bad guy but with the drugs, alcohol and the fact that is purely fictional I’m sure you can deal with it 👀 So much drama, I mean it’s almost worse than a telenovela guys, I warn you but it’s pretty fun to write 😈 Tell me what you think my cutie pies 👀

Masterlist & Requests

@/ none of these gifs are mine xx

"Don’t be nervous, everything is gonna be fine" Roger murmured to your ear as you were both sat in the taxi, going to Freddie’s place for your birthday and also celebrating the new album of Queen, which was supposed to be release soon.

“Ally is gonna be here and she hate me” You whined, pressing strongly Roger’s hand. "And Fred...he is— he wasn’t very kind with me last time" You mumbled remembering Freddie’s attitude, you really didn’t want to experience it again.

"I know baby, but you know how Fred is...he can be a bit extreme and clumsy, he didn’t intend to hurt you" His lips brushed gently against your cheekbone, his fingers firmly interlaced with yours.

You didn’t answer, only hoping Roger was right.

"And about Ally..." He continued. “I think she feel threaten by you” You scoffed almost offended, how a girl like her would be afraid of you ? "Baby, I’m telling you, she always had a...reputation, doing some crazy stuffs all the time, she’s the last person I would have seen with a kid. And she know the boys think like me” His thumb was playing with your ring, a habit Roger took since you get engaged and you grew fond of it. "But you on the other hand...you’re definitely a mom material, you’re natural with kids, she saw that too"

"Are you calling me boring ?" You asked with an amused smile but a still a bit worry. You heard few stories about Ally and boy, she did insane things when she was younger. 

Roger scoffed at you, pretending to be shocked by your words.

"Do you really think that I, Roger Taylor, hot drummer from Queen, would get engage with someone who is boring ?” You smiled cheekily and shook negatively your head. " ‘course you’re not boring my love. But you are...softer than Ally, a caring loving soul and it’s obvious that you will be an incredible mother. Our kids gonna love you" 

Your heart fluttered heavily in your chest, our kids...Roger chuckled at the sparkling stars in your gaze.

“I love you" You captured his lips for a tender kiss and you could feel him smiled widely against your skin as he murmured a I love you more. “You’re such a sap” You chuckled softly.

"Only for you baby” He winked at you as the time as the car stopped, signalling that you were arrived at your destination. “Hold on tight my love, they’re starving for some juicy gossips tonight" They referring to the crowd of fierce journalists ready to do anything to have a picture of the drummer of Queen and his lady.

You hated them.

Roger’s hand firmly wrapping around yours, practically dragging you through the horde of flashes and screams.

"Roger ! Over here !”

“(Y/N) ! How are you feeling about breaking a family ?”

"Mr Taylor ! Is this true you’re secretly dating the mother of your son ?"

"Are the rumours about the cancellation of your wedding true ?"

You hid your face the best you could into Roger’s back, trying to ignore the nasty comments you get at every step, slowly but surely fissuring your confidence.

“You’re okay ?” The drummer squeezed gently your hand and you nodded, not trusting your voice for the moment. “Let’s go then, birthday girl"

                                  ***********

It was about two hours into the party and you were currently in the garden, taking a little break from the crowd, loud music and all the other crazy stuffs Freddie had plan for the evening. It was fun but a bit suffocating, not really your favourite kind of night. They were so many peoples, it didn’t really feel like a party for your birthday at all but Roger and the rest of the boys seemed to have fun so you were okay too. You took a sip of your wine, a bit tipsy, the sound of the window opening made you turn around. You gulped discreetly when you recognized Ally, she was wearing a gorgeous long dress, hugging perfectly her thin waist with a pretty low neckline and you would lie if you wouldn’t say you were a bit jealous of how everything seemed to fit her perfectly.

“(Y/N)” She said rather coldly and lighted a cigarette, stayed at a good distance away from you. “Funny to see you here, Roger told me it wasn’t really your scene”

You wished she would have just ignored you.

“Well, I’m celebrating my birthday so here I am.” You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the lovely garden. “What about you ? Where is Seth ?”

She winced slightly at the name of her son and took a deep puff, her necklace – which looked incredibly expensive for someone who needed money from Roger only few months ago – was twinkling under the moonlight as well as her big earring. You felt a bit ridicule in your simple short dress, nothing too brashness but she, would certainly catching everyone’s eyes tonight.

“He is sleeping upstairs, Freddie closed the access at his floor” You nodded simply, feeling awkward in this silence. “You know (Y/N), I have nothing against you” She spooned around, looking at you. “I can see you really love Rog, I kind of feel sorry for you”

You shifted uncomfortably, the last thing you wanted to discuss about with her was Roger.

“What do mean you feel sorry ?” You took a big sip and focused your gaze on your bright ring, always warming your heart.

“He is not gonna stay with you, he never do, with no one. That who he is, he have his little amount of fun then he moved on to another pretty flower” She looked at you with little smile, not mean though, almost a sorry one.

But you were angry, how dare she come to your face to say stuffs like that ? What was her purpose except hurting you ?

“I don’t think you know the real Roger or you wouldn’t talk about him like that” You spat and she seemed surprise by your ferocious tone. “He’s more than just the playboy you saw in him, he is smart and talented–“

“I never said he wasn’t (Y/N). What I’m saying is don’t get your hope to high because soon he will find someone else” She explained as she expired the smoke by her nose, a satisfied smirk on her pink lips. “No offence but you’re a bit...not boring but more...bland ? Yeah you’re tasteless and it’s not gonna take much longer before he grew bored of you, honey”

You clenched your jaw at the hatred which flew through your body, she knew exactly where to hit to hurt you. Your lack of confidence was apparently more visible that you thought.

“If you think he will go back to you, it’s not–“

“He will” She stated firmly and her assurance made you a bit cracking up. “We got a son together, of course he will come back to me. We always been close (Y/N), more than you and him could ever be, don’t waste your time sweetheart, it’s useless” She dropped her half finished cigarette in your drink and gave you a last smirk before turning around to the window.

You blinked few times, your heart hammering loudly against your chest, she was doing that just to scare you away. Roger loved you.

“We’re engaged and you’re just jealous” You commented rather quietly but she heard you anyway and glanced at you with an amused smile.

“Poor (Y/N), you’re really cute. You think I’m jealous of you ? Oh come on” She chuckled and you felt your cheeks blushed furiously at her mocking remark. “Let me tell you a little something because obviously Roger didn’t tell you...” She drummed slightly her fingers on her plumpy lips, pretending to think then shrugged. “Here the deal, darling, Roger and I, are already married so...I don’t think I have anything else to ad, right ?” She winked at you and disappeared quickly, leaving you completely dumbfounded.

You shook your head and abandoned your drink somewhere in a table, rushing through the crowd to find the bathroom. You locked yourself in it and drank some water, trying to calm your heavy heartbeat. This girl...she was the worst. Her and Roger...married...that wasn’t possible. Who asked someone to marry him if he is already engaged ? That was silly. She was just trying to mess up with your mind. You took a deep breath and get out from here, determined to find Roger and asked for some explanations. Or rather reassurance.

It took you a good twenty minutes to find the drummer, he was in the spacious marbled kitchen of the singer, taking out of the fridge several bottles of expensive champagne, humming happily.

“Rog, can I talk to you for a second ?” You tugged on his shirt and he glanced toward you, a warm smile spreading on his features. His cheeks were a bit red and was blinking furiously, two things that proved you he already had few drinks in his bloodstream.

“Hiya my love” He pressed his cold and wet hands from the bottles on your cheeks, making you shivered. “Miss you tonight, where were you hiding ?” He brushed a sloppy kiss on your lips, giggling dizzily. He must feel your tense behaviour as you didn’t really respond to the kiss. “What’s wrong ?”  He rubbed gently your face, his eyebrows furrowing as he was trying his best to focus on you.

“I...it’s about Ally. She said–“

“Oh Ally ? I know she told me !” He shook his head with an amused smile and you cocked your head, not sure what he is talking about. She certainly didn’t tell he was going back with her, he wouldn’t react like that. “She said that you and her had a little talk and now things between both of you were cool, with Seth and all” You were speechless by the boldness of this girl but before you could explain to him what really happened, he continued, a bit overexcited. “Baby, you can’t believe how relieve I am that you and Ally made peace. This tension between you two was eating me alive, I was so worried about Seth being in this mess too...” He had more drinks than you thought or he would never have told you that.

He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it with a giggle, he seemed really happy about what Ally told him and you didn’t want to break his hope about the two of you so you kept your mouth shut. This wedding thing though, was still in your mind and swore to yourself to ask him tomorrow as soon as he wake up.

“Rog, hun, Freddie’s looking for you !” Of course Ally was sent to find him, how surprising. She tugged on his shoulder, dragging him out of the kitchen and pretending you weren’t even here.

Roger caught your hand before following her, he tripped on his feet and giggled childishly, soon you all ended in the large, no giant, living-room, Freddie at the center of the room. He had black sunglasses on his nose and was draped with a big crown on his head, a cape matching the hat on his shoulders, he was royal indeed.

“Here you are Rog ! Come on, tonight we have a lot to celebrate !” You followed timidly the drummer, feeling tenser the more you get close to the infernal duo Ally and Freddie. “I have a little surprise for the queen of the night !” You felt your hands sweated into Roger’s and you were practically sure he wasn’t talking about you. “Ally, my sweet darling, I ordered from the best french pastry chef this desert, to celebrate in once every of your birthdays that we missed !”

You felt your face burned, of course he would find a way to turn the attention to Ally. Not that you minded to stay away from all the wondering eyes but it hurt a bit. He used to spoil you on your birthday but this year he didn’t even gave you a call. You were losing a great friend with not real reason and it caused you pain, more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

The crowd was beaming in excitation, everyone pressing around you to have a look of the giant cake that four men just put on the brown table.

“That’s look pretty cool” Roger commented with an amused smile.

It was, at least, a hundred of cupcake with Ally’s face on it and the whole of them were next to each other, forming a shape of heart. She jumped in his arms, kissed loudly his cheeks with a high giggling, thanking Fred a billion times.

“Hum Fred, where is (Y/N)’s cake ? The one we picked together, do you remember it ?” Brian asked with his brows furrowed.

You knew it was a sweet gesture from the guitarist, at least someone remembered that it was suppose to be for your birthday, Freddie and Roger had insist a lot for you to agree, but right now you wished he had keep his mouth shut. You were pretty sure Freddie wouldn’t hesitate to make a sharp remark about it. And you were totally right.

“I’m sorry but we had a little change of plan (Y/N) darling. I’m sure you don’t mind ?” He didn’t even let you answer and took a sip of the champagne bottle. “Anyway twenty eight years old isn’t a big deal, no need to fuss about it”

“I think it’s thirty Freddie” Paul added with snarkily smile and the lead singer clapped his hand with a grin before patting Paul’s cheek.

“Is this right honey ? You’re thirty years old ? Would explain a lot of thing” He commented as he lowered his sunglasses, observing you from head to toes. “You should maybe start putting some Anti-Aging cream, wouldn’t be a luxe darling” He saw the look of hurt on you face but it visibly didn’t stop him. You knew he was fucking high and obviously shit-faced, it wasn’t the real Freddie but he was going too far this time.

You stayed frozen as every single people in the room laughed loudly, inspecting you shamelessly, all going with their little comments about your clothes or the lack of space between your thighs. Even Roger was laughing, your hands still interlaced, he gave you a sweet smile before pressing a kiss on your burning cheek. You clenched your jaw roughly to avoid crying, you bowed your head a little, your gaze finding Veronica’s one. She gave you a sad smile, shaking her head, disapproving Freddie’s behaviour toward you.

“It’s just a joke, baby. Relax” Roger murmured to your ear and you felt even worse. How could he not see how uncomfortable you were ? “She is twenty-seven Fred, you bastard, you know that I’m sure” He added louder with an amused smile and Freddie gasped dramatically, putting a hand on his mouth.

“Darling, it’s even worse than I thought !” The laughs came back, echoing in the living-room and you felt your eyes burned, ears turning pink. You blinked furiously, feeling the familiar panic rising through your chest, you hated being the center of the attention and it was even worse when it was just to humiliate you. “Ally, honey, maybe you should give her the cream box I offered you earlier. She need it more than you”

The brunette didn’t miss the occasion to snort heavily, wiping a tear from her eyes as she looked at you, pinching her lips. “I’m not sure it would be enough Freddie”

She smiled proudly at the crowd bursted in laugh again and honestly you never felt so humiliated in all your life. You sniffled quietly and quickly dried the few tears which escaped with your dress’ sleeve. You wanted to run away but you couldn’t move, your head was spinning, your shoulders low as the humiliation washed over you, the evening couldn’t have been worse.

“I think it’s enough now” It wasn’t Roger who spoke, it was Brian. He stood up and John was right behind him, both of them looking furious. “Fred you’re being a dick right now, stop that immediatly.

“Oh my god Brian, stop being so dramatic !” The singer rolled his eyes.

“It’s just a joke, what ? She can’t even take a joke without crying ?” Ally added with a chuckle. She glanced at your wet face and hid her smiling face onto Freddie’ shoulder. “Apparently not”

“It’s not funny, you idiot ! Do you think (Y/N) look like she is having a good time ?” John spat angrily, as someone rather shy, he knew how horrible you must be feeling right now, your shaky hands and low head proving him right.

“She know it’s a joke, right baby ?” The drummer bowed his face toward you with a grin which immediately fell when he saw the salty tears rolling on your features. You avoided purposely his gaze, your pathetic sniffles was the only noises above the low music. “(Y/N)...shit, baby, don’t cry...it’s was just a joke” Roger tried to save the situation but it was way too late. You violently moved away his hands from your face and Freddie caught your wrist before you could move.

“(Y/N) darling, it’s wasn’t my purpose to make you cry, I swear” He grabbed a cupcake and put a candle on it, bossing Paul to light it up. “Here, honey. Happy birthday” For few seconds, you recognised Freddie’ soft smile, the real one, not Paul’s puppet and it warmed a bit your heart.

Ally saw it too and didn’t hesitate before accidentally knocking off a waiter, he spilled the multiple glasses of champagne from his tray on your dress. A loud gasp collective resonating in the room as the liquid immediately soaked your white clothes, showing everyone of good look of your hardening nipples due to the cold drink. Now, it was the summon of your humiliation.

“Well, someone forgot to put a bra tonight. Who knew (Y/N) could be a naughty girl like that ?” Paul’s twangy voice commented with a little laugh. “But please, no one want to see that, trust me” He pinched his lips, savouring your face crumbling under his vicious comment.

You immediately turned your heels and practically ran to the main door, sobbing and shaking loudly. The cold air of London hit you hard but you couldn’t care less, you crossed your arm to cover your chest and stopped walking when you saw the crowd of journalists still waiting in front of the main door. You couldn’t escape like you wanted to. You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and recognised Roger’ scent immediately. He slid your coat on your shoulders and rubbed your arms quickly, your bag hanging on him.

“I’m sorry baby. Let’s go home okay ?” You nodded simply, your head downed to the ground and you let Roger dragged your back to the car, the burnt of your earlier humiliation well rooted in your stomach, you wanted nothing more than disappeared right now.

                                                           ********

“(Y/N) ? Baby ?” You opened your eyes with difficulty, they were swollen from all the cry from the previous night. You had almost immediately fall asleep back at home, after sobbing painfully onto Roger’s chest for few more minutes. “How are you feeling ? You were talking and sleeping during your sleep”

That wasn’t surprising, you often had an agitated sleep when you fell asleep in a such poorly state. You glanced at him next to you and you throat tightened at yesterday’s memories. How he found your humiliation funny. It wasn’t on purpose, you knew it but it didn’t change the sharp pain you had feel last evening.

When he saw you weren’t going to answer, your red and puffy eyes was enough for him to guess, he gulped loudly, trying to find the good words to apologise.

“I...I’m sorry baby. I was drunk and I didn’t think Freddie really hurt you, I should have defend you, I’m such a dick” He caressed softly your cheek, hoping for an answer but you kept staring at your fingers, playing with the hem of the pillow. You had honestly nothing to say. You felt exhausted and incredible sad, nothing less, nothing more. “It won’t happen again, I swear. I’m going to talk to him and believe me it’s the last time he had speak to you like this. Him and Ally, Christ, they’re terrible together...”

“You know what hurt me the most ?” You sat up slowly, couldn’t hear more of his rambling. He didn’t answer as he already knew what you were going to say. “Of every horrible things Fred told me, the worst was still you, laughing with everyone” He closed his eyes, sniffling rapidly before opened them again, his lower lips roughly trapped between his teeth. “Not need to tell you how I feel about myself right now, after everyone gave their little comments about my body, it was really nice” A fake smile curled on your lips and the blond shook his head.

“Baby, you’re fucking beautiful, you know that ! You’re–“

“Please, shut up Rog” He closed his mouth right away, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly. “I don’t need that now, I just want to forget this evening” He nodded quickly and carefully grabbed your hand, he relaxed a bit when you didn’t push him away. “I have just something I wanted to ask your yesterday but you were already drunk”

“What is it ?”

“Ally told me you were married” You said with a tired voice, you wanted to hear his explanations then slept for a thousand years. “So, Roger...am I wearing this ring like a fool ?” He frowned deeply then like he suddenly remembering something, he scratched awkwardly his chest. You already had your answer, you chuckled bitterly and took off your hands from his.

“I...it’s not...technically we’re married, yes” He replied with a shaky voice. “But only in Nevada ! I don’t even think it’s legitimate anywhere else. We...we were completely wasted and it was our first tour in America, we ended up in a shitty chapel with Ally in Las Vegas and got married” You weren’t even that surprise, after all he did told you she did a lot crazy thing, it made sense. “We weren’t even together anymore when it happened, it mean nothing baby, absolutely nothing. I didn’t declare the marriage anywhere, it’s like it never existed"

He glanced at you with pleading eyes but you just lay back, murmuring a quiet okay.

“Are you...are you mad at me ?”

“No, babe, it’s awesome. Once again Ally humiliated me, nothing new don’t worry. I’m used to it now” You answered sarcastically, burying your head in the pillows, when did you life become such a mess ? “I know you’re suppose to see Seth this morning, so go on”

“No, I’m stay–“

“I think I could use some time alone Roger” You whispered and you heard him sigh sadly.

He pressed a light kiss on your head. “I love you (Y/N)” The bed squeaked a bit as he stood up and walked to the door, your eyes closed and hiding from his guilty features. “I hope you can forgive me for my stupidity”

You hoped too.

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

tag list : @16wiishes @borhapqueen92 @thewinchesterchronicles @khaleesi2017 @hawaiipeople-blog @witchbloodsworld @broken-pieces @spideyyypeter @vanitysfairr @glowingez @queenmaracasandlove @yourealegendroger @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing @launopeach @fearless2tobeme @awkwardangelshezza @hahahaitsmagic

[azookiex3]

Confidence [Lucifer&F!Reader]

Request: Anon - Hello! Can you write a Lucifer fic where the (F) reader has a gruesome scar on her face & her confidence/attitude is basically “take it or leave it” & this helps Lucifer with his own self image with his Devil face? It can be fluff, angst, smut, whatever you want.

AN: I need to write faster ^-^""". Hope you enjoy Anon! 

Description: Apparently, trying to find a boyfriend was much more difficult than becoming a model with your scarred up face. Who knew?

AO3 , Fanfiction Net , Wattpad

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Swearing 

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

Your phone alarm goes off.

"Time to get ready." You breath out. You stretch your arm to grab your phone off the little table next to you and turn the alarm off. You stretch out on your patio lounge chair, cracking a few bones in your back. You finish off the rest of your glass of wine and stand.

Walking inside of your penthouse you grab the stereo remote and play your favorite tone, "Confident" by Demi Lovato. After a quick trip to your kitchen to dispose of the glass in the dishwasher you walk into your bedroom and into the bathroom. After a quick shower to rid yourself of sunscreen smell you wrap a robe around yourself and start styling your hair. You then put some light makeup on and head to your walk-in closet.

You stand there, tapping your foot to the song as you look around at your clothes. 

You had faith in your blind date tonight. This was the first guy to take you somewhere expensive. You're hoping that means he'll have better class than just blatantly stare at your face the whole night. 

You've heard of the place that he's taking you to: a VIP bar named LUX. You've never been to it, mainly because a man who calls himself the "Devil" runs the place, and clearly anyone whose psycho enough to call themselves that has to have an awful establishment.

But the reviews you've seen have all been five stars, and after scrolling through the comments section for about an hour no one said anything bad about the place. 

They also all praised the owner.

You decide on a short, tight, red lace dress with half long sleeves. You pair it with black high heels and various black pieces of jewelry. You receive a text from your date saying he's arrived, and after spraying on some perfume as well as one final check in the mirror you head on down.

Please, be the one.

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

He was not the one.

The poor guy tried his best, though. Making sure his eyesight was trained on the road and not your scarred/burned up side of face that was next to him. You gave him an hour and allowed him to buy one drink before you told him this wouldn't work out.

He even apologized. The gall, really.

"I'm surprised you let it last that long. Didn't look like fun at all." 

You raise your one brow up at the man who now sat next to you at the bar. Tall, dark, handsome, wore an expensive suit and a smile as he sipped his drink.

"It wasn't. Nothing new for me though." You say as you take another sip of your drink.

The man hums in response, then holds out one hand to you, "Pardon me, darling. Lucifer Morningstar."

Oh great. You politely shake his hand back, "Y/N L/N."

"Of course you are. The beautiful new upcoming model." His smile turns flirtatious.

You roll your eyes, "Please. Don't blatantly lie in your flirtations just to make me feel better."

Lucifer looks offended, "I'm not trying to make you feel better at all. You said this was a natural occurrence for you, shame really, and you look fine. Also, I never lie." 

"Never? That's hard to believe."

"For you humans, perhaps." He chuckles at the look on your face, "Right. The name doesn't lie, dear. I am the Devil."

"Uh huh." You turn back to rest your elbows on the bar and continue your drink. 

"Typical reaction." His smile dims slightly, "Do you not believe you're beautiful?"

"Of course I believe I'm beautiful." You look back at him offended, "Which is why I don't need you men to continue saying it like I don't know or believe in it."

"Oooh, feisty. Perfect." His flirtatious smile is back.

"So, why are you here Mr. Morningstar, if not to think you'd make me feel better?" You swirl your drink in the glass and study him.

"I thought I'd give you a better date." He gestures his body, "Myself!" 

What Lucifer Morningstar expected was the normal flushed face and glossy eyes that humans usually give him when he flashes his smile and eyes.

Instead, you laughed.

And laughed.

The Devil had never been more confused in his whole life, "Well, this is a new reaction to me." He mutters.

"You?" It takes a while, but you manage to speak again, "What makes you think I'd want to date you?"

"Uh, have you looked at me, darling?" He gestures to himself once more, "I'm beautiful, rich, have impeccable style, and confidence to match your own. Surely that's all the qualities you're looking for?"

You laugh again, "You? Confidence?" You continue to laugh.

Lucifer was getting annoyed now, "I'd very much like to know what's so funny!"

After calming down again you look him dead in the eyes, "I, in no way, see confidence in you Mr. Morningstar."

The Devil is speechless.

"You're clearly a man who hides behind the Devil facade to make people love and fear him. I see nothing 'Devil' about you." You get up from your seat and collect your purse, "Thanks for the laugh. Good night 'Mr. Morningstar'." You leave the dumbfounded man.

"See?" A few minutes after you left Mazikeen walks up from behind the bar to collect your empty glass. Lucifer still sat where he was and his eyes were still trained on the door you left from, "Even humans are starting to see how soft you've become."

The Devil looks to his demon bodyguard. She gives him a stank eye and smile before walking away. Lucifer looks back to the door.

"I am the Devil." He mutters quietly to himself. He then gets up and retreats to his penthouse for the rest of the night.

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

You suppose one thing Mr. Morningstar got correct in his "Devil" play is that the Devil never leaves you alone when he finds you. 

Which is why you aren't too surprised to catch his figure behind the flashing cameras. 

"Mr. Morningstar." You nod a hello to him when your photo shoot finally finished. 

"Ms. L/N." He smiles at you and follows you to your changing room.

You sit down in front of your vanity and start taking off the accessories and wiping off the makeup, "So, this face of mine couldn't leave your mind, I take it?"

"Oh absolutely! Not in the way your thinking though." You watch him from the mirror come to stand behind you. He smiles at your reflection and leans in behind you, "I do hope you couldn't get my face out of your mind either, darling."

You weren't going to admit how the past few nights your dreams had been about him. You suppose his strong sex appeal is another thing he got right in his Devil act.

You raised an eyebrow in response to his reflection, and apparently that's all an answer he needed. His face became incredibly smug.

"Why are you here Mr. Morningstar?"

"To ask for your assistance Ms. L/N."

You look at his reflection quizzically, "With?"

"Confidence." 

Your eyebrow raises, "Why come to me?"

"Because clearly you must be a master at it if you think I, the Devil, lacks it."

You watch him carefully in the mirror for a moment. You see him fidget with his ring slightly and notice how his eyes looked away for a second when he asked. Asking for help with this clearly upsets him in some way.

You grab a napkin from your vanity and write down your address. You stand and face him while holding out the napkin, "Here's my address. Meet me there. I should be there within the hour."

He takes it and pulls on a flirtatious look, "If this is your kind of help I should definitely be a master at confidence."

You shake your head and look at him seriously, "If you seriously want my help with your confidence then meet me there and lose the flirtations." You cross the room and open the door, "Now please excuse me while I change."

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

"I see you enjoy living the high life as well." Lucifer comments as you open the door to your penthouse.

"Figured I deserve it with the life I've had." You reply as you set your things down on your coffee table. You notice Lucifer staring at you with that unspoken question most people ask, "Go ahead."

"I don't much care how that happened to you, but more whoever did that has been punished." Lucifer looks genuine in his anger, and that makes you open up more to him.

"Yeah, I'm making sure they are." You head into your kitchen to pour yourself and Lucifer a glass of wine. You hand him his glass and continue, "Parents. They're low life dealers who used their 'accident' to pass around their drugs. Cops don't suspect a little girl." You take a sip of your wine while Lucifer just holds the glass and watches you, "I stupidly said how I wanted to be a model when I grow up, and they freaked. If I go so does their business. So," you gesture the left side of you scarred and burned face, "real life 'Two Faced' was made."

"Where are your parents now?" Lucifer's voice was tight, and you notice the grip on his glass tighten.

"Jail. Where I make sure they'll be for the rest of their lives."

"That's good enough for you?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I ruined their perfect little drug life business and made a name out of myself. That's 'punishment' enough, knowing their fucked up faced accident will have a better life than them."

"I see." Lucifer looks down at his glass and downs it to calm himself, "We happen to have something in common, my dear." He sets the glass down on your counter.

"Oh?"

"Yes...my Father gave me a scar of sorts. A new face to represent my unholy deeds."

"I don't see it."

"...I hide it."

"And that's your problem." You set your glass down and motion for him to follow you, "It took a long time for me to be comfortable with this new face. I've learned you need to push through and work with what you got to have a comfortable life."

You lead him through your bedroom and walk-in closet to the secret door behind some old clothes. You open the door and step into a tiny room of infinite mirrors.

"This helped me a lot." You say as you step inside the small space and spin around. "Anywhere I look I can't escape this face, this past of mine. I have to own it. I have to love it in order to live." You step out of the room and to the side, "Bring out your scars. Face them head on. You can't escape from them. Their your life. Own them."

Lucifer takes a deep breath in and out. He tugs on his suit jacket and cufflinks before entering the mirror world and closing the door. 

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

Enough time passes for you to become hungry. You decide to start making dinner for yourself, and Lucifer, while you continue to wait. When you start making up plates is when he finally emerges.

"This is...more difficult than I thought." He says to you as he goes to stand on the other side of your kitchen island.

"No one can do it in one day." You turn around and hand him a plate of food, "But I already see a difference in you. Not quite the 'Devil' you claim to be, but a man taking the first step into his self consciousness."

He accepts the food and sits on a stool, "Not sure where I can put a room like that in my home."

"You don't have to. You're free to come over whenever to face it." You sit down next to him and give him a small smile, "I'd like to watch the progress, and hopefully see this 'Devil'."

"It's more hideous than I realized, darling. You'd become a melting pool of fears if you saw it."

"I have my own Devil, Lucifer." You take a bit of food, "I think I'd be fine."

"Hm." He starts eating his food, "We'll see about that."

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

Months go by. Lucifer's visits to you and your mirror room become more regular as his time with the LAPD becomes less. His edge and sharpness returns. His cockiness and King nature return in full force. Detective Decker tells her partner to not come back until he's back to normal.

But this is his normal, he realizes. He's the Devil. Why would the Devil let a human woman change him into the man his Father desires?

He doesn't care. He enjoys his time with you more and more. He enjoys how you accept him, the bad and good mixed together.

Today's the sixth month he's been doing this experiment. He's currently standing in you mirror room. Devil face on. He smiles.

"Are you ready, darling?" He calls out.

"Yes, Lucifer. Show me your scars. Show me your confidence."

He exits the room. Devil still on along with the smile. It takes you a moment, but you smile back and wrap your arms around his neck. His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you tight against him.

"Now there's the confidence I'm looking for in a man. I'd like that date now."

[lgbt-kpopimagines]

Jealousy (NCT’s Lee Tae Yong (Taeyong) x male!reader)

requested by anonymous

Rating: G

Written by: Admin N

Jaehyun and me had been friends even before his debut. And even after he became a part of NCT and his schedule got busy with practice, concerts and photoshootings, he always kept contact with me, kept inviting me over to his place, as he couldn‘t roam around too freely anymore. Fame came with a prize, after all. But I loved visiting him. It was at his dorm that I met and fell in love with my boyfriend, Taeyong. His sharp features and strong gaze quickly caught my attention, and his kind personality and appreciation for art, as well as his cute fads made me fall for him. I still remember when I volunteered helping Taeyong clean up after a big dinner he had cooked for everyone, because I wanted to be close to my crush. Jaehyun, well aware of the feelings I had for the older rapper, ushered the rest of the band out of the kitchen. I can‘t remember exactly how Taeyong and me went from scrubbing cooking oil off the stove to having our first kiss that evening, but that was what happened.

Of course, after that, my visits at NCT’s dorm became a habit. Jaehyun and Haechan were generously taking in Johnny when I slept in Taeyong’s room. I was glad that the other guys didn’t mind having a gay couple amongst them.

Me and Jaehyun’s year long friendship and closeness, however, sometimes made Taeyong anxious.

“Jaehyun is really good at basketball, isn’t he?”, he would ask. “Do you sometimes play together?” I weighed my head from left to right. “Sometimes.”

“Jagiya, do you like taller guys?” The sudden change in topic made me suspect he was comparing himself to Jaehyun.

“I like you, Taeyong. Exactly the way you are.” I kissed him and he pulled me closer, humming softly into my ear.

“Y/N, did you again go swimming with Jaehyun in the morning?” I knew he wasn’t asking casually, because some nervous shadow would lie in his gaze when he asked those questions.

It only happened occasionally, so I didn’t expect my friendship with Jaehyun to turn into the biggest drama of Taeyong’s and mine happy relationship. Until the day before NCT’s new album promotions. The promotions were only the starting shot of a two-month-long marathon consisting of photoshoots, fanmeetings, concerts, and practice, practice, practice for the band, so that was going to be my last evening with my boyfriend and Jaehyun for a while.

We were having a party at a locality of SM Entertainment, to have enough space and of course, Jaehyun drank a lot, because he can handle it. I got drunk myself, so my memory of the evening is blurry after some point. Taeyong can’t drink too much, I remember that he and WinWin left to buy snacks or something. Then there’s a cut in my memory. Next thing I know is me and Jaehyun singing, arm in arm, everyone laughing and partying, the music still loud. Another cut. Silence around us, Jaehyun was standing up to his waist in the indoor pool, which we had all to ourselves. I was sitting on the rim, splashing my feet into the water. I remember that I told him that he was too drunk to swim. He just laughed and came closer.

“Y/N, don’t worry, I’m with you, nothing can happen!”, he called out enthusiastically and pulled me into the water.

“Jaehyun, I hate you!”, I shrieked, splashing water at him, not caring too much about my wet pants.

“Y/N, I love you!”, Jaehyun laughed and then, in the heat of the moment, he kissed me. It was short and innocent, just a peck on the lips and when we pulled apart my surprise was reflecting in his face.

“Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, let’s just get out of the pool.” I felt a bit sobered. Holy shit, we both had had too much.

In the end, I called a taxi to go home. Taeyong hadn’t returned, wasn’t answering his phone, and I was too drunk, tired and disappointed about him not showing up to stay any longer. Also, Jaehyun and me felt it was time to call it a day.

I awoke in the afternoon at home. When I checked my phone, I was surprised to neither find any message from Taeyong nor Jaehyun. But after all, they had their intense schedule from today on, so probably both of them were busy. I messaged my boyfriend, telling him that I had arrived home safely after the party, that I was already missing him and asked him for a phone call in the evening. When I remembered the scene in the pool with me and Jaehyun, I also texted my friend, apologized, and assured him that nothing was awkward between us. I knew we had been very drunk.

While Jaehyun answered me back late at night with an apology as well and some friendly jokes and stickers, Taeyong hadn’t even read my messages.

When I still hadn’t received any reaction from him the next morning, I tried to call him. I tried again at lunchtime, in the afternoon, in the evening, and a last time before going to bed. He never picked up. He didn’t read my messages. What the fuck had happened? Had he lost his phone? Ignoring the knot forming in my stomach, I shot Jaehyun a message, asking whether Taeyong was with the group and whether he might have lost his phone. An amused Jaehyun confirmed Taeyong’s presence, as well as the wellbeing of my boyfriend’s phone.

The knot in my stomach reappeared. What was wrong, why didn’t Taeyong answer me? I checked his Instagram, but he hadn’t updated anything so far. An anxious feeling that something was going on came over me, making it hard for me to fall asleep.

How little did I expect that moment that this anxiousness was just the beginning of weeks of tears and agony. Taeyong didn’t answer any of my phone calls. After a few days my messages appeared as “read”, but every text and voice message I sent afterwards was being ignored again. The band was not at their dorm, I couldn‘t go and try to talk to him in person. Every time he updated his Instagram account, my heart ached. There he was, just smiling into the camera, looking so perfect in his makeup and fancy outfits, every time with a different bandmate next to him. He never reacted to any of my comments under the photos neither.

Jaehyun only answered with delays, so until I had managed to tell him that Taeyong apparently had started to hate me without reason, three weeks of me crying myself to sleep had already passed.

I finally managed to get my friend on the phone and explain my dilemma.

Jaehyun sounded exhausted, but alert when he told me that he had noticed Taeyong mostly withdrawing into himself lately, listening to music during brakes, not interacting with the rest of the group.

“I haven’t talked to him one on one since promotions started, actually. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow, Y/N, I promise.”

After that, Jaehyun didn’t get back to me for some days, in fact. I felt like I was going crazy. Just when I started to try finding out their current location over the band member’s social media, he finally called me.

“Y/N, so sorry, it’s been ages. Actually, they separated us to take individual shootings, and then we had the fanmeeting recently, so I could only talk to Taeyong today.” He cleared his voice.

“So...” In this tiny break, my heart stopped. I didn’t like how serious he sounded. Or was it just exhaustion?

“So, Taeyong is really pissed off for some reason. When I tried to ask him why he wasn’t talking to you anymore, he snapped. ‘As if you wouldn’t know! Don’t act all innocent Jaehyun!’ Then he just left me. I was dumbfounded, I don’t know Taeyong-hyung like that at all.”

I bit my lip. My thoughts were racing. Why was he angry at Jaehyun?

“Taeyong started ignoring me right after the party.”, I said.

“He’s angry at us both, apparently?”, Jaehyun added. There was silence on the line for some seconds.

“Do you think, Y/N… he saw me kissing you in the pool?”, Jaehyun’s voice was tiny and I felt my blood rushing into my feet. I sat down, my head was spinning.

“We were just drunk. It was just…”

“Is he that jealous?”, Jaehyun inquired.

“He sometimes asked about our friendship… Never directly, but I think he sometimes was worrying whether I might actually have a thing for you. Because we’re so close.”

Jaehyun cursed.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

I was fighting back tears.

“I want to talk to him.”, I said. Jaehyun let out a breath.

“We’re going back to Seoul tomorrow, as our concert there is in three days. Come to our dorm, we’ll explain this to him together.”

I couldn‘t sleep that night. It had been almost two months of silence between me and Taeyong. He must have seen that kiss. But instead of confronting me and giving me a chance to explain, he had just decided do be upset and grudgingly ignore me. I got angry in frustration and worry and kept tossing and turning around in my bed.

The dorm was quiet when Jaehyun opened the door. WinWin was sleeping on the couch, and Johnny waved at me with a curious expression on his face. He said nothing though, only gave me a thumbs up.

“I sketched out our problem to him”, Jaehyun explained, “after all, we need Taeyong alone.” My friend nodded towards Taeyong’s door.

My hands were sweaty when I opened the door of Taeyong’s and Johnny’s room. I found my boyfriend sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall, headphones covering his ears. When he saw me and Jaehyun, his eyes grew wide and a cascade of emotions shot through them – surprise, anger, sorrow, confusion, longing, disappointment – before he closed his eyes and turned his head away.

“You’re in the wrong room, you two. Why would you bring your boyfriend here, Jaehyun? To make fun of me?”

His words were like a punch to the stomach. Me and Jaehyun exchanged glances. Boyfriend?  

I sat down next to Taeyong while Jaehyun kept standing.

“Taeyong.” My voice was soft while my heart started hammering in my chest. “You’re angry at me and Jaehyun… Did you… did you see us in the pool at the party before your promotions?”

His head spun around, his eyes locked with mine, burning with anger and accusation. He firmly pushed his headphones down.

“Yeah, I was looking for my boyfriend and instead found you and Jaehyun kiss and being all lovey-dovey back then!”, he spat into my face, furiosly shooting glances in Jaehyun’s direction.

“So, congratualtions on finally having the boyfriend you wanted all along! For what reason did you actually date me then, Y/N? Make yourself look interesting to your life-long-best-friend? Show him that you’re actually into men, subtle signalling and so on?”

Taeyong leaned closer to me and I leaned back. I could feel that he had kept all this bottled up until now, the space between us was brimming with his anger.

“He’s taller than me, he’s younger than me, he’s been close to you for ages, his body is gorgeous-”

Jaehyun made an uncomfortable sound.

“Jagi, no” I firmly interrupted when I saw tears forming in Taeyong’s eyes.

“Me and Jaehyun are not dating! And we never will!”

“We were both super drunk that night.”, Jaehyun added quickly. “I got carried away, Y/N said he hated me, well, so I said I loved him and to stress my drunk rambling, pecked him on the lips. It was not even a proper kiss! There’s nothing going on between us. We were just being two stupid, very drunk friends!”

Taeyong suspiciously looked from me to Jaehyun and back.

“But you… called with Y/N so many times, Jaehyun...”

“Because Y/N was crying to me about you not answering him!” Haehyun rolled his eyes.

Taeyong paused, his furious energy faded.

“Why didn’t you confront me, Taeyong?”, I asked gently.

He hesitated. “I… didn’t want to intrude into your newfound happiness. I just wanted to forget.”

Jaehyun moaned.

“You could’ve saved everyone a lot of emotional distress, Hyung!” My boyfriend bit his lip.

“I love you, Taeyong.”, I said, carefully taking his hand. “Jaehyun is just a friend and will always be. Please forgive us the accident at the pool.”

“It really had no meaning at all!”, Jaehyun insisted.

Taeyong interlaced his fingers with mine, avoiding my eyes.

“So… you still want to be me boyfriend, Y/N, even though I’m a jerk?” He seemed embarrassed.

“Well yes of course!”, I insisted and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. I felt so relieved to have him back. Taeyong squeezed my hand before letting his head sink against my shoulder. Jaehyun smiled at us, then left with an apologetic nod.

“I love you too, Y/N”, Taeyong said as soon as the door had closed behind him, “I missed you a lot. I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

[huhusevenn]

jtwya

• fluff, humor

• Word Count: 1.5k

• HighSchool!au | transferee!woojin x reader

• a/n: hiii! i wish u had a great day, and if not, i hope this will help you smile for a bit. the reader's thoughts are in italics. thank for reading! the title sucks, bc i cant think of anything else im sorry :(( it's almost quarter to one here am here lmao

- Rei <3

ps. the photos arent mine, but the edit is mine.

"You're the shit."

"What the shit."

Hyunjin and Yeji said at the same time, but with different expressions. Typical twins. Except that you love Hyunjin's grin of fascination more than Yeji's gaze of disgust for this moment.

"I know. I'm the shit, right?" You grinned, throwing an arm over Hyunjin's shoulder to pull him close to you. You ruffled his hair playfully, earning a small giggle from him.

"No, Y/N, you look like shit. What in the world did you just do to your hair?" Yeji exclaims in disbelief as she eyes your new pixie, undercut hairstyle with light blonde highlights. You seriously don't understand why Yeji didn't like it. It's so beautiful you stared at yourself for 5 whole minutes in the mirror - that's a new record! Even your Dad was impressed by this hairstyle, and he rarely cares when it comes to these things.

"Apparently, I fell in love with Captain Marvel's hairdo. You also told me to get my hair done! " You stated defensively, which annoyed Yeji more.

She rolled her eyes at you. "I told you to get your hair done by hot-oiling it, dumb butt!"

"It's cool, you look like a boy now," Hyunjin ruffles my hair as well, "nice highlights, man! It added to the masculinity."

What. the. f-

Now that explains why Dad gave a fuck for the first freakin' time

"I'll just wish to the gods above the heavens that you didn't completely ruin your chances in dating someone this school year," Yeji sarcastically remarked.

"I don't even care anymore," you exhaled heavily, flushing all your hopes of dating someone out. You told yourself that you'll stop looking for guys and let destiny fate do their thing with you and your soulmate if there's any.

"I'm kind of tired assuming that someone would be interested in me, when society made it clear for people like me that there will never be," you ranted, followed by the sigh of defeat.

"Don't lose hope yet! Someone will see you beyond that hairstyle," Yeji half-heartedly encouraged, still a bit annoyed because of your hair.

"I'll seriously miss your long, dark hair, but I'll get used to this, hopefully." She finally smiled at you. The conversation was cut short by the first morning-bell, then students started to hurry, pushing each other rather carelessly at the hall just to make it to class before the second bell rings.

"See you at lunch!" you slightly yelled. She nodded in response as she separated herself from you and Hyunjin, who is currently doing his best to refrain from laughing hard as you put some of your things in your locker.

The hall is mostly empty by now, for the students have finally settled into their respective classrooms except for you, Hyunjin, and a boy you've never seen before in this school.

"Who's that?" You asked Hyunjin in a whisper as you watch the boy struggle in opening his locker.

"New kid, obviously," Hyunjin replies, "to be honest, I feel bad for him. That locker has been broken for god-knows-how-long and no one has ever used it until now."

"Hey!" You called out, "that locker's broken. We could share if you don't mind."

"PFFFT- Wow, Y/N, just. Wow." Hyunjin snarkily exclaimed, "that's a new kid and you're hitting on him already?"

You chose to ignore him and continued to arrange your locker so all his things could fit in. You don't really take up that much space since you carry everything in your bag because you tend to forget your assignments in your locker. You almost failed your English class because of it.

"Uhh, hi," You heard the new guy's silvery, soft voice behind you, "I'm... new here."

"Yeah, I can see that. So, what's your name?" Hyunjin asks.

"Woojin. Woojin Kim."

"All done," you turned around and gave the transferee a small smile.

"Thanks, man." He said as he placed his stuff inside your locker.

Hyunjin erupted in laughter that echoed throughout the empty hall, clapping his hands in pure amusement at the same time, which only added to your annoyance.

This Woojin guy looks at the both of you, confused as to why you're giving him a bitch face and Hyunjin laughing so hard. "Did I do something wrong?"

". . . I'm a girl."

"Oh, you are?"

Hyunjin cackles even harder, almost becoming the epitome of ROTFL; and you couldn't be more irritated when you see Woojin's look of pure astonishment. Do I really look like a guy?' But there's no point in arguing. You love this hairstyle nevertheless, and you know that you'll rock it whether you'll look like a guy or a gal. The second bell rang, signaling the start of the class. Good thing your first class is Biology, which is found right beside your locker row and your teacher is always 30 minutes late.

Ignoring the now calm Hyunjin and embarrassed Woojin, you entered the room and went to your seat. Woojin and Hyunjin follow you inside, as well. Hyunjin then goes to his seat at the back row, never forgetting to send you a teasing wink as he passed by.

Woojin eyes the classroom for a moment to look for an empty seat, then he found the one and only vacant spot, which was next to yours. Letting what he said slip away doesn't mean that you'd do the same with your burning annoyance, so you decided to act as if he had disappeared into thin air.

You felt him start to walk towards you, but you kept your head down to avoid eye contact. As soon as he sat on the chair, he spoke up. "Hey, I'm really sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or whatsoever."

You looked at him with a raised brow, meeting his slightly serious gaze, to which you chuckled because you find it surprisingly cute of him to be this worried. Your annoyance immediately dissipated as if it was never there. "We're cool, man. No need for apologies."

"As a matter of fact, I find y-"

Woojin was cut off when the door slammed open, then your Biology teacher came in sight, still looking fresh as ever. Your class lowkey thinks that he's spending an hour in the mirror just to "fix" himself, that's why he's always late.

Woojin didn't bother continuing what he wants to tell you because his focus is now on the teacher, as he waits to be called to introduce himself. You didn't mind, though. You can always ask him about it later. Doodling on the back of your notebook is more interesting.

The teacher finally noticed Woojin and he formally introduced himself in front of the class, but with whatever the weirdest reason Mr. Lee has, he started to ask Woojin some silly questions, and you assumed that he's being lazy today and wants to spend the half-hour in doing nothing but joking around.

"So Woojin, what talents do you have?" He asks, sitting on top of his desk.

Woojin nervously fidgets his fingers, yet he answered, with a confident tone, "I sing, sir."

"Really? Care to sing your favorite line in your favorite song?"

He nodded. You're still not paying attention because you're busy perfecting the Pikachu doodle in your notebook. It's gonna be my first-ever masterpiece, even Jisung would be jealous.

But the moment he started singing, his voice cut through your focus then your eyes snapped towards him. Amazement widens your eyes, your mouth gapes in surprise as his voice - his sweet, angelic, and perfectly in-tuned voice - resonates through the whole room.

"When I see your face," he sang, as his eyes wander to the back of the room, "there's not a thing that I would change..."

"'Cuz you're amazing," his gaze met yours, then Civil War suddenly took place inside your stomach, "just the way you are."

The room fell silent, everyone still amazed and shocked. Your gazes are still locked, but you averted it as soon as the sound of Mr. Lee's handclaps broke through the silence, everyone then followed, some even whooping a little. But you're still dumbfounded because of what he did.

What the fuck was that, Woojin?

"But wait, I noticed you directing your gaze towards Chloe as you sang. It's for her, isn't it, Woojin?" Mr. Lee suggestively said, wiggling his brows at him playfully. Your classmates started to cheer loudly, whooping even louder, and a friend of Chloe yelled 'she's single, Woojin!' Woojin rubbed his back of his neck sheepishly, failing to answer because of his nervousness. You are kind of disappointed, but not surprised because new kids always pine up over Chloe - your school's very own It Girl. You thought Woojin would be an exception, but clearly, you are wrong.

Finally, Mr. Lee let Woojin take a seat then started lecturing. "I'm glad I discovered that hidden talent of yours," you whispered to him, nudging his side playfully with your elbow when he sat down.

"But I wasn't looking at Chloe. I swear." He whispered back, sending you a wink. It's not the Civil War that's happening anymore - it's actually the Endgame.

[disheartehned]

“Required” prequel reading: Lost Resolve

The cooler night time breeze of the desert drifted over the dunes, little clouds of dust swirling around the legs of a mysterious shadow in the night. V’tehn stood atop one of this dunes, his gaze locked onto the sparkle of flickering light off in the distance. Soon it would be dawn and being out in the open like this could be dangerous. He might be seen as a threat if he was spotted watching from this far away so with one last look V’tehn turned to head back to his camp. What was he looking at, and where had the Seeker traveled to now?

It all started with a series of dreams V’tehn had experienced over and over again for nearly a month. A horrific vision of a possible future where he had lost control and harmed those he loves. A fear V’tehn had kept locked away within his heart. He took steps to avoid that future, following the advice given to him by a black armor clad version of himself within the dreamscape. Though he had no clue what exactly he was looking for. This meant he’d need some time to figure things out. Which lead him to seek out Koneko, the leader of his Free Company, friend and employer. He planned to ask for time off, a week at most.

What greeted him instead was an unknown woman, pipe in hand and benevolent smile on her lips. She explained to him that Koneko had stepped down, handing things over to her for the time being and that her name was Yako, the new leader of Amaterasu. Awkward as it was to ask your new boss for a leave of absence, V’tehn still did. He explain briefly that he was looking for something, though he knew not what exactly and needed the time to look into some things. Much to V’tehn’s surprise his request was granted with nary a fight or condition. It was almost too good to be true but he didn’t feel like looking a gift horse in the mouth. The two talked for a bit longer, Lady Yako curious about her new employees and how things ran around the house. As thanks for her generosity V’tehn sat with her, answering her inquiries as best he could and telling her about himself.

For some reason her smile and genuine nature invited him to speak up more than he normally would. Maybe he was just enraptured by her looks, or desperate for a friend given the horror he had witnessed for a month. It matters not why V’tehn spoke, only that he did. As he finally went to leave he was stopped by Lady Yako, her voice like honey in his ears as she called out to him. She stood up, closing the distance between them quickly before wrapping her arm around his and pressing it against her side. She thanked him for the talk and how honest he had been, it meant a lot to her that he opened up to her like that. Apparently Lady Yako had doubts about her ability to lead seeing as she just suddenly took over.

V’tehn couldn’t help but grin stupidly at her, falling for her tricks without a single inclination that she might be leading him astray or trying to distract him. He comforted her with a few words and then broke away from her grasp so that he could leave. By the time V’tehn had stepped out of the door and pressed his back against it to take a moment and breathe the deed had been done. Unbeknownst to V’tehn the Lady of the House had slipped something into his pocket. A jagged reddish black stone with the symbol on it. He was too distracted by how alluring Yako had smelt. The moment she got close to him it was like his world started to shimmer like heat waves in the desert. She was dangerous in Tehn’s mind now, but for all the wrong reasons.

The night after being slipped the stone V’tehn found himself within that same dream again. Within an instant the rush of emotions crashed against him like a tidal wave. What he had worked to block out from his mind was laid out before him once again. His knees began to shake, his lips already starting to mouth the word ‘no’ over and over. He felt a chill run of his spine and a crushing weight threatened to push V’tehn into the ground. On his back sat a heavy blade sheathed in a dark brown leather holster. He then looked around himself again, V’tehn was clad in that same black armor as the one in his previous dreams. There was hope…

Again the world around him shifted as he tried to figure out what exactly this all meant. V’tehn found himself in front of Zohie’s house again, his hand reaching out for the knob tentatively. A scream on the other side of the door brought the Seeker back into reality and he threw the door open quickly. Expecting to see a version of himself covered in blood and wielding an axe V’tehn once again found himself dumbfounded. It had changed again. The dream had progressed and now another one of V’tehn’s worst fears came to life in front of him.

Standing over Zohie, a bloody knife in hand wasn’t an enraged and out of control V’tehn, no it was the figure of the man who gave V’tehn his prominent eye scar. The old Nunh of V’tehn’s tribe, so filled with hatred for the boy because he carried the blood of an older Nunh. “Ah. There you are. I’ve been looking for you Bastard. Your mate here was just entertaining me while we waited.” So preoccupied with the sight of his worst enemy V’tehn had failed to notice Zohie slumped down against the bookshelves like in older versions of the dream. This time she was still breathing, though now she clutched her side, applying pressure to the massive slash left there.

Confusion and disbelief turned to rage within an instant, that feeling of chains breaking and something within being freed took over V’tehn. Instinctively he reached towards his back, hand grasping at the hilt of the blade resting there. As he did the ghost from the past lunged forward knife rushing towards a gap in the black armor V’tehn was wearing. Gripping the hilt tightly V’tehn yanked the sword off his back as a searing pain spread throughout his abdomen. Looking down V’tehn was met with the deranged look of his tribe’s Nunh. It was only then that V’tehn noticed just how ragged and unkempt the man’s appearance was.

The Nunh laughed maniacally as he twisted the blade in deeper. “I finally got you, you disgusting mistake! DIE!” The next words out of his mouth were hard to understand through the sound of gargling blood and coughing. V’tehn had swung the blade down, unphased by the blood within his side, right into the man’s shoulder. The sound of crunching bone and rending flesh were melodic to V’tehn’s ears. Though he felt the burning hot rage within him, he hadn’t lost control. A deep red wisping aura seeped out of V’tehn as he stared down coldly at the man.

“I should’ve killed ya that night. I won’t make that mistake again.” V’tehn applied more force and pressure onto the blade causing it to sink and tear further down. With a final gurgling scream the Nunh fell, his body twitching one last time before becoming unmoving. Before he could speak or move the world faded to black and V’tehn was left alone in his dream again.

“How did it feel to take that man’s life?” An unfamiliar voice echoed out from the darkness. “You’ve dreamed of doing that for years. Did it help any? More or less than when you took mine? I look forward to watching you fall down the same path as me…” The words faded off as if the voice was being carried by the wind. Whoever had spoken to V’tehn seemed to know him, but he couldn’t place it for the life of him. As he tried to rack his brain for who it could’ve been a searing pain distracted him. Instinctively he looked towards his abdomen, expecting to see the knife still stuck within him. Yet he was uninjured as if nothing had transpired just now. As the pain grew more and more intense it became less spread, until V’tehn realized he was clenching his right fist.

Something held within his palm glowed a dark shade of red and he realized that was where the burning feeling came from. Opening his hand up V’tehn saw an unfamiliar jagged reddish black stone resting upon his palm. Before he could drop it or investigate it more the pain flared up suddenly and then he was awake on the couch at Limmel’s house. His hand still burned and looking within it he saw the same black stone. Once its presence was acknowledged the pain stopped, leaving V’tehn to wonder what it was. Though he was curious how he had obtained it, V’tehn didn’t show it to Limmel or anyone else for that matter.

That all happened two days ago, and V’tehn had set off the next morning with a destination in mind. Using what little aether he could control V’tehn used the Aetherite to get himself back to Ul’dah and after getting a few supplies he set off towards the desert. Once there he had set up camp nearish the place where he once lived as a child. His dreams had shown V’tehn a future he had always feared. He wasn’t going to let them become a reality. No one was going to hurt those he cared for. Even if those dreams were just nightmares and had no inclination of the future at all this was something V’tehn had been putting off. It was time to find out what had happened the night of the Calamity and if that man stilled lived he wouldn’t live much longer.

At least that is what the voice inside V’tehn’s head told him was for the best.

[creative-type]

The Murder of Arthur Wright XVI

First Previous AO3

Chapter Sixteen: Two Foolish Choices

Margot sat at a loss as Abigail wiped her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. What could she possibly say in that moment? She, along with Dash, had invaded Abigail and Desdemona’s lives and demanded to hear their deepest, most painful secrets for the sake of the man who had failed them in every way imaginable.

Margot understood why Desdemona was angry and uncooperative. She understood Abigail’s pain and Felix’s obstinance. She even understood why Adeline was so unaffected by her husband’s death. Margot hated it, but she understood why any of them might have been driven to murder.

But it was still murder. As appealing as the notion was, vigilante justice wasn’t the answer to Master Wright’s wrongs. That’s what’s Margot’s head told her, anyway. Her heart hadn’t yet come into agreement.

“You said Desdemona was the one who gave Anansi that poem?” Margot said once she finally trusted herself to speak.

Abigail nodded, not looking at Margot as she folded her handkerchief into perfect fourths and set it aside. “I have never met the man…woman?” She frowned slightly. “I’ve never met Anansi, but Desdemona has. I couldn’t believe she’d done it, I could have strangled her.”

“She didn’t write it, did she?” Margot asked. She smiled a little at Abigail’s shocked surprise. “Forgive me, but your sister doesn’t seem the type to write existential poetry about herself. And,” she added softly, “I’ve spent a great deal of today in a library, and I took the time to look up some names.”

Abigail’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Anansi told us the meaning of Desdemona’s name and how it changed the meaning of the poem,” Margot said, “but he refused to admit it had anything to do with your sister. I wondered if perhaps there wasn’t more to that idea, and I was right. Arthur and Adeline can both mean noble or nobility. They’re the lord and lady of the first stanza. Felix means lucky, which makes him fortune’s favored son. And Abigail…Abigail means…”

“Father’s joy,” Abigail finished for her, resigned. “And I might as well have bid her to die the night she came back for me.”

“That poem is about how your family reacted to Desdemona running away from home, and how your sister came through the experience stronger than she was before,” Margot said.

“I’ll admit I was projecting a little at the end,” Abigail said. “I had no idea of knowing how Dessy was doing when I wrote the stupid thing, but I hoped. I needed all the hope I could get then.”

“You wrote The Death of Desdemona?” Margot asked, confirming the suspicion she’d had since Abigail had walked out of her sister’s bedroom door.

“I wrote a great deal while at that asylum,” Abigail said. “It was a part of my recovery. I had a difficult time speaking of what had happened, so my healer encouraged me to write it instead. I had to be careful—I still wanted to protect my father, even then—but I was given a notebook that was mine. Not even the healer was allowed to read it unless I said he could. It was the only thing I took with me when Desdemona helped me escape.” She let out a noise that was almost a laugh.

“It’s ironic, really. I always hated writing as a child because it lacked the structure and precision of mathematics. But in the end it was the rigidity of magical theory that nearly destroyed me and in the written word where I found my liberation. Father once told me that I was born to be a mage, but I made myself a writer.”

“Is that what you do now?” Margot asked.

“After a fashion. I work in a small publishing house translating books from Elvish to Common.” She laughed again, louder this time. “I can’t tell you the number of romances I’ve seen written by bored Elvish women with too much time and money on their hands. It’s delightfully absurd.”

Margot managed to smile, but she inwardly she felt sick. If Abigail had been assisting Master Wright in his research—with a stilted magical education, no less!—at such a young age meant she was nothing short of a prodigy. To see her love for magic extinguished and her potential left untapped felt wrong. No, it was more than that. That Master Wright’s selfishness and hubris destroyed a talent that he should have nurtured was a travesty of the highest order. The world should be celebrating Abigail’s accomplishments, not her father’s.

“Please don’t pity me, Professor,” Abigail said quietly. “I’m legally dead. I have no papers, no money, no family except for my sister. My opportunities will always be limited, but I have enough.” She looked up, and for the first time Margot saw Abigail Wright. Not her sister, not her mother, but Abigail for who she really was.

“Dessy worries constantly for my happiness, but I’ve found happiness is an elusive feeling, seldom found and often fleeting. I enjoy it when it’s there, but I don’t chase after it. I can’t. But I can be content, and truly I am. Or I was until my father died.” Her grey eyes seemed to bore into Margot, anchoring her in place with the weight of her gaze. “Desdemona didn’t kill him, Professor.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know. Someone who understood his research.” She grimaced. “I know that reflects poorly on myself, but I wasn’t there the day he died.”

But Desdemona was, Margot thought.  

“My employers will vouch for me,” Abigail said. “I was working the day of the mage’s conference. I didn’t hear of the explosion until that evening.”

Margot nodded thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind writing their address, Cain and I would be happy to verify that for you.”

She offered Abigail a blank page of her notebook while Abigail’s cheeks blushed pink. “I, er, I don’t know where Dessy keeps her quills.”

With a flourish, Margot Conjured a pen. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you still can’t…?”

The blush deepened, and Abigail retreated into herself. “The best and worst moments in my life were caused by my magic. I don’t know if I even want it back after all that’s happened.”

“That’s understandable,” Margot murmured, and as Abigail scrawled the name and address of her work in an untidy hand she came to a snap decision. When she was finished, Margot found the spare pieces of paper where Cain had copied Master Wright’s research.

“I understand if it’s too painful, but to my knowledge no one has been able to decode your father’s notes,” Margot began. She offered the parchment to Abigail, whose eyes had gone as wide as saucers. “You might be the only person in the world who can untangle what Master Wright was doing in his final moments.”

Abigail took the notes, her hands shaking. “I could lie. You don’t know I’m innocent.”

Margot shrugged. “If you do, someone will find out eventually. No code is uncrackable, not even your father’s. But if you truly want to prove your—and Desdemona’s—innocence, this might be the best way to do it.”

“It’s been so long…” Abigail said. She brushed back the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of her bun, and laughed disbelievingly. “It’s nearly illegible. Did you copy this?”

“Of course not,” Margot said defensively. “And I don’t think Mr. Cain has been properly trained.”

“Oh. That makes sense. The standard spell printed in most books was originally meant for secretaries copying in triplicate. If he didn’t modulate the power input he likely overloaded the spell. I, er, made the same mistake. More than once,” she added hastily, sensing Margot’s surprise.

“I didn’t know that,” Margot admitted.

“Most don’t understand how their spells are put together,” Abigail said. She turned her attention back to the pages. “There’s so much that’s missing.”

“I understand if you can’t, I just thought I’d try.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just…”

Abigail’s voice trailed off as the door to the apartment swung open. Margot jumped a little and the sudden intrusion, and then tried to pretend that she hadn’t. Desdemona entered the room with Dash not far behind. She gave a sweeping appraisal, her eyes lingering on Abigail. Apparently Margot passed her test, for she nodded to herself once and flopped artfully into the nearest chair.

“Have you finished talking, Professor?”

Margot glanced at Abigail, who seemed fully absorbed, and nodded. “For now.”

“I’m glad to hear it. The good detective has convinced me to answer his questions, and I’d prefer not to have to talk about my father any longer than I have to.”

Margot looked at Dash while Abigail stared dumbfounded at her sister. Dash grinned and tried not to look too pleased with himself as he pulled out a stick of jerky.

“How did the good detective manage that?” Margot asked.

“What can I say? It’s a talent,” Dash said.

“He said he wouldn’t stop pestering me until he found out the truth, and nothing that’s happened tonight has managed to convince me that he’s mistaken,” Desdemona corrected, her voice deadpan. “I’ve already told him the abbreviated version of me and Abby’s story, and I’m sure you’ll fill him in on the rest. So ask away, Detective. I have nothing to hide.”

“First things first, how in the name of the Seven Deities did you get Mr. Westmacott to help you?” Dash asked.

“I asked him to,” Desdemona said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I noticed I was being followed shortly after I found Abigail. It was too much of a coincidence, and I knew my father had to be involved somehow. I remember you from back then, Mr. Cain. I half-feared you were going to kidnap me or something equally ridiculous.”

She said it jokingly, but her expression was deadly serious. “It wasn’t just you. Mr. Westmacott had a whole cadre of goons trailing me in shifts. I don’t know what story my father told him, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought I planned to burgle the Royal Treasury.”

“You did steal that silver,” Dash said.

“I knew if I walked away I wasn’t going to get my inheritance,” Desdemona said. “I took what was due me, for all the good it did me. It was gone within the week.”

“Gone?” Margot said.

“Stolen, to be precise,” Desdemona said. “It turns out that a rich girl taking a poverty tour tends to stick out like a sore thumb. In any case, by the time I found Abigail I knew my quarter of the city better than Westmacott’s men. I managed to shake one, and followed him back to his office. That’s how I knew who it was Father hired. From there it was a matter asking around trying to figure out what kind of man he was and if he could be persuaded to see sense.”

“It wasn’t me you shook, was it?” Dash asked, affronted.

“No, Mr. Cain, it wasn’t you.” Desdemona sighed. “Mr. Westmacott didn’t believe me at first, not that I blame him. So after our initial conversation he went to see Abby.”

Desdemona looked over at her sister and cleared her throat. Abigail, who had returned to Master Wright’s notes, startled to attention. “What?”

“I said Mr. Westmacott spoke to you at the asylum,” Desdemona prompted.

“Oh. Yes, yes he did.” She frowned. “He snuck in dressed as an employee. He seemed a bit…eccentric.”

“Yeah,” Dash said wistfully. “That sounds about right.”

“We spoke at length after I finally realized who he was,” Abigail said. “By the end he was perturbed.”

“Father had convinced him Abigail was insane,” Desdemona said. “For all I know Father thought she was insane. How could he know when he never—“ She cut herself off sharply, and took a moment to gather herself. “Whether deliberately or not, Father had misled Mr. Westmacott into thinking I was a danger to my sister when in reality it was the other way around.”

Dash squinted in confusion. “Mr. Westmacott’s had criminals try to hire him before, to throw him off the scent. That never stopped him from solving a case.”

Desdemona raised her hands in silent question, her smile as sharp as a knife and twice as deadly. “But Mr. Cain, what crime had been committed?”

Dash opened his mouth to answer, then paused. Rocking back on his heels he looked to Margot for an answer, but she could only shrug. Surely there was something against keeping someone institutionalized for no reason, but Abigail claimed she had never sent word to her father of her recovery and had no desire to be released back into her family’s care. Master Wright’s treatment of his family was horrid, but it would be difficult, if not impossible, to prove in a court of law that he had emotionally manhandled his daughter into assisting him with his research against her will. Even cutting off Felix from the family finances was justifiable—he had been nearly thirty years old when Desdemona ran away, with a learned trade to support himself. It was heartless, perhaps, but hardly criminal.

The closest thing Margot could think of was Abigail’s claims that Master Wright had stolen a student’s work while still at the University, but even that lay in the murky waters of hearsay and rumor.  

“Do you understand your employer’s dilemma, Mr. Cain?” Desdemona asked languidly as she inspected her nails. “I wanted Abigail out of that asylum and away from my father. If caught I would have been the one charged with abducting my own sister, ridiculous as that may seem. Abby’s wishes didn’t matter; she was being denied by law the right to make decisions for herself.”

“Rightfully so, in the beginning,” Abigail interrupted softly.

“Whether or not it was right in the beginning is irrelevant,” Desdemona snapped, her words falling in a cadence that suggested this was an old argument. “You were well. After two blasted years in that hellhole you were well. The fact that you couldn’t leave without Father’s permission is nothing short of barbaric. I knew that, Westmacott knew that, and I know good and well that you knew it too.”

Abigail didn’t seem to hear. Pushing away the remnants of Desdemona’s abandoned supper she spread Master Wright’s research across the table and with a finger began tracing equations, her lips moving silently. Pausing only to gauge Desdemona’s reaction, Margot offered her a fresh pen and a piece of scratch paper, both which were accepted gratefully.

Desdemona’s mouth pursed in an unhappy line, and Dash took advantage of the silence. “Mr. Westmacott always said there wasn’t a case he couldn’t solve.”

“Then Mr. Westmacott had the imagination of a dodo,” Desdemona said. “There was no solving this case. Greatest detective of the age, my foot. Mr. Westmacott liked solving puzzles, not helping people.”

“Hey now! He helped you,” Dash said.

“Because he felt guilty,” Desdemona said scathingly. “This wasn’t some high-profile murder or a country-wide counterfeiting ring. You couldn’t point your finger at a person and say ‘aha, I’ve got you now!’ and expect everyone to go home happy with things tied neatly in a bow. This was life, and when faced with it he didn’t know what to do.”

Dash’s hands balled up into fists. “He helped you get Abigail out of that asylum,” he insisted stubbornly.

“And then he ran away in shame,” Desdemona said. She lifted her chin in silent challenge. “I can’t pretend that we’re the only people he’s helped over the years, but there’s no denying that when faced with a mess Mr. Westmacott chose to keep his hands clean. He made it very clear that after he got Abby and I settled he was done, and we could expect no more help from him. We were left to fend for ourselves.”

Dash blinked in confusion, the hurt plainly evident on his face. “Mr. Westmacott abandoned you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Desdemona answered anyway. “He helped plan an escape which included him ‘witnessing’ Abby throw herself into the river. He arranged ahead of time for us to rendezvous with one of his contacts in the city, an orc by the name of Gudrid. Unfortunately there was a mishap during the escape and Abby ended up with a broken wrist and I got a nasty concussion. We had to hide in an abandoned warehouse and pray we weren’t found until I was well enough to travel. She was the one who found a healer for us and she was the one who set us up with employment and a place to live.” Her expression softened marginally.

“Until then I had bounced around without any steady income. I’ll never forget her kindness and patience. When one of her previous students came to the city she suggested that I travel with them.”

“Anansi,” Margot said.

“I refused, of course, and have been working at a playhouse ever since. With my education it wasn’t long before I became one of the managers, though I still enjoy working as a stage hand now and again.” She smiled wryly. “It’s not quite what I imagined my life would be like when I first ran away from home, but through the stories there I still get to see the world, after a fashion. Not that that stops Anansi from pestering me every time they’re in town, begging me to bring some semblance of order to the chaos they call their show.”

“Anansi wants you to travel with them?” Dash asked. “I know plenty of people who would kill for a chance like that.”

Desdemona’s eyes slid to her sister, who didn’t seem to be listening at all. “Anansi is like Westmacott; they think they can solve all the world’s problems with a wink and a well-told story. Life’s not that simple.”

“But you gave Anansi your sister’s poem,” Margot said.

“I’m not proud of it,” Desdemona said, “but I knew Anansi and my father both would be at that mage’s conference. Anansi doesn’t travel with a large retinue, so they hire a lot of temp work for their local shows. They asked me if I would be willing to help. I refused at first. I knew being in the same room as my father was a terrible idea. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted him to experience a fraction of what he made his family suffer. I wanted revenge.”

For the first time something that was almost regret flashed in her eyes. “While Abby was out I broke into her apartment and copied down the poem I thought would work best. See, it had to be something Anansi could deny, something only my family would understand the meaning of. To be honest, I was surprised Anansi agreed to do it. I never told them my past and they had never met Abby. It’s safer if people don’t know I have a sister.”

Her smile went from wry to bitter, twisting her handsome features into something ugly. “Then again, Anansi always did have the habit of guessing more than they ought. It wasn’t until the night of the show that I had second thoughts. I told Abby what I had done, how I had broken her trust. We argued. It was the worst argument we’ve had since…since I tried to get her to come with me the first time. I was so upset I couldn’t help Anansi as I’d promised.”

Desdemona fell into troubled silence, and Abigail set her pen down on the table. Without looking up at either her sister or Margot or Dash she said, “I ran to the conference to put a stop to it, but it was too late. Anansi had already started. I waited backstage. I told people that I was Desdemona and was too ill to work. I must have looked terrible, because they believed me. I watched my father from backstage. I saw him come forward after the show, and I knew he wanted answers that Anansi didn’t have. I…cut him off.”

“You spoke to your father the day before he died?” Dash said.

"Not really. Over the years I’d fooled myself into imagining all the things I would say to my father if I ever had the chance to see him again. That I would be able to confront him with all the things he’d done. I dreamed all manner of clever arguments and pretended I could be brave enough to speak them.” Abigail shook her head, the lines in her face deepening. “Father thought I was Anansi tormenting him with the face of his dead daughter. He was angry, and I think a little frightened. But mostly...mostly he was just angry. I froze, and when it became clear I wasn’t going to respond he left. I think he wanted to avoid making more of a scene.”

“What did you do after that?” Margot asked.

“I ran. It had been a mistake to come and a mistake to think I could talk to my father, and the longer I stayed the greater the chance that someone would recognize that I wasn’t Desdemona or Anansi.” 

Desdemona drew a hand over her forehead. “After my father died Anansi told me my brother had hired a detective to take up the case. I knew I would fall under suspicion, and if anyone found out Abigail was still alive she would too. I’ll admit, Mr. Cain, seeing you at that conference was like seeing an old ghost that’d come back to haunt me.”

“Why were you there?” Margot said.

“I told you, I was helping Anansi,” Desdemona said. “They were one of the keynote speakers, along with Father. That meant more illusions and more shows.”

“And Abigail was working when the Teleportation device exploded,” Margot said.

“Yes. It’s the truth, I swear it.”

Dash’s eyebrows drew together, and he reached into his pocket. But instead of a jerky stick he pulled out a familiar envelope: The letter he had received from Mr. Westmacott. The piece of evidence that had started the entire case.    

“That’s all well and good, but if Mr. Westmacott told you not to bug him which one of you wrote this?” he demanded.

“I have no idea what that is, Mr. Cain,” Desdemona said.

But Margot was watching Abigail, and noticed what little color she had left her face.

“That wasn’t meant for you,” she croaked.

Desdemona looked from Dash to her sister. “Abby? What’s he talking about.” When Abigail didn’t answer she reached up and tore the letter from Dash’s grasp. It took only seconds for her to read, and a thunderous expression filled her face.

“Are you insane?!” Desdemona exclaimed. “Abigail, what in the world possessed you to write this? You know he wanted nothing to do with us. Why would you risk everything to an elitist prat who would have left you with a broken arm?!”

Abigail threw herself to her feet, her cheeks flushing scarlet. “Just because someone is wealthy and successful doesn’t make them a terrible person, Desdemona! Mr. Westmacott risked everything to help us, and after three years it was past time for me to give him my thanks. I don’t have to consult you before choosing to write someone.”

“You do when the person you’re writing could ruin us both. Gods, Abigail, I don’t think I will ever understand you.”

“Just as I will never understand what drove you to give Anansi that poem,” Abigail said coldly. She blinked back tears, a losing endeavor that resulted her to begin crying once more, and sat back down heavily.

“I know it was foolish of me, but it was something I felt like I needed to do.”

The pronouncement fell heavily between the two sisters, and there was a moment of awful, terrible silence. Desdemona looked at the letter hatefully, and for Margot thought she would tear it to shreds.

The anger soon gave way to helplessness, and Desdemona said wearily, “We were both foolish.” There was another beat of silence. “I’m sorry for calling you insane. I wasn’t thinking, and I shouldn’t have.”

Abigail accepted the apology with a curt nod. “And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I didn’t think it would matter after all this time.”

“If your father hadn’t died it wouldn’t have,” Dash said. He took the letter from Desdemona’s limp fingers and tucked it back in his pocket. “Thank you both for talking with us tonight. I’m probably the last face you ladies wanted to see.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Desdemona muttered.

“If there’s nothing else, the professor and I will take our leave. Is that okay with you, Prof?”

“One moment,” Margot said. She walked over to the table where Abigail had been working and asked, “Were you able to come up with anything? Anything at all?”

“It’s the formula for Teleporting ten kilograms of perfectly spherical graphite exactly twenty-five meters,” Abigail mumbled.

“You can tell all that by those scraps of paper?” Dash asked.

“It was a little more ambitious than I would have expected, but it’s what it says,” Abigail said. “The ideal proof of concept I always saw Father working towards was one kilogram, but perhaps he wanted something more impressive to show off for his big debut.”

“So how does this all work, anyhow?” Dash asked, tilting his head as if that would make sense out of the scribbles Abigail had written.

Abigail gave Desdemona a questioning glance, but her twin only crossed her arms. “Don’t look at me, I can’t make head or tail of it. If anyone’s going to explain it, it’s you.”

It’s difficult to explain to a layman,” Abigail began slowly, “but the difficult thing about Teleportation isn’t really the Teleportation, but the energy it takes to do so. Professor, do you have a magic you specialize in?”

“Elemental magic, with a focus on water,” Margot said.

“So, for example, when you use magic to thaw a block of ice, you don’t consciously have to remind yourself the heat capacity it takes to raise one gallon of water by one degree Celsius, do you?”

“Of course not,” Margot said.

“That’s because a great deal of magic is done subconsciously—a fact that irritated my father to no end because it’s what makes magic an art and not a science. I’m sure, Professor, when you were first beginning to learn you had to concentrate a great deal more on the mechanics of how you manipulated the elements?” Abigail said.

“Everyone does,” Margot said. “But with practice it becomes second nature. You just…know.”

“While that is true for most students of magic, it’s not true for an enchanted item,” Abigail said. She began to fidget with Margot’s enchanted pen. “Father’s Teleportation device can’t do what people are able to on instinct because it is inanimate. It can’t think on its own. That means that everything that goes on beneath the conscious mind when they Teleport has to be programmed into the device.

“The more complex the object being Teleported, the more complex the programming, and therefore the greater energy cost. The formula Father developed would, in theory, be able to take any object in the world regardless of complexity and Teleport it across a grid of interconnected rings, as was shown at the mage’s conference. Organic life is carbon-based, hence the graphite, and a sphere is symmetrical so even if it happens to come out the other side inverted no one would be able to tell. Ten kilograms would require a large amount of energy for the smaller prototype ring, but I suppose it would show the capacity of the lithium as a power source.” Abigail shrugged. “If it had worked I don’t doubt that investors would have been interested in testing the potential of more complex inorganic, and later organic matter. It’s a technology that would take years, perhaps even decades to perfect, but it would have had its genesis in my father, and that’s what he wanted. More than anything else in the world.”

She slid her work along with Master Wright’s research back at Margot. She looked utterly spent by the evening’s events, and after Margot returned the sheets to her notebook rose from her seat, sparing a glance at Desdemona. Her hands were trembling, but from what Margot couldn’t tell.

“I’m going home now,” she said quietly. “I can’t handle any more today.”

Desdemona nodded, worrying her bottom lip while her sister gathered her cloak. “It’s late. You could stay here tonight if you need to.”

“The dark doesn’t bother me.” Abigail pulled her hood over her head. “Goodnight, Dessy. I’m sorry. For everything.”

Before she could leave Desdemona pulled her into a tight hug. Margot looked away, feeling like she was intruding on a deeply personal moment between the sisters. If this was what being a detective felt like, she didn’t like it, and didn’t know how Dash could stand it day in and day out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Desdemona said, almost making it sound like a threat. Abigail nodded and managed a ghost of a smile. It vanished when she turned and saw Dash and Margot.

“I hope you find out who did it,” she said. “Either someone interfered with Father’s formula or they somehow tampered with the rig itself. I can’t see how anyone would have managed either, but they would have had to know what they were doing to get past the safeguards and fool Father.”

“You can stop implicating yourself any time, Abigail,” Desdemona said, her tone impertinent.

This time her smile, while still tired, was more genuine. “Goodnight, Dessy.”

“’Night,” Desdemona replied, but by the time the word was out of her mouth her sister was already gone.

Dash and Margot were silent until they reached the waterfront playhouse where they now knew Desdemona worked. They had found what they were looking for, but hadn’t liked what they found. Not one bit.

By unspoken agreement they stopped under the lantern where Margot had woven her tracking spell. Dash shoved his hands in his pockets, the brim of his hat hanging low over his head. Margot recognized the look of bitter disappointment all too well.

“I remember Master Wu said that understanding people was like looking under a rock,” Margot said, her voice distant as she recalled the memory. “You find dirt and bugs and rot and all manner of things that you wish you wouldn’t have, but until you lift the rock you don’t really know them at all.”

“I can’t believe Mr. Westmacott just left ‘em to fend for themselves,” Dash admitted. “I mean, even if Wright senior thought Abigail was dead he probably could have caused Desdemona a fair amount of trouble if he wanted. I guess I thought Mr. Westmacott was a better sort of man than that.”

“As they say, it’s best not to meet your heroes,” Margot said, trying not to dwell too long on how utterly disillusioned Master Wright’s actions had left her.

“Sheesh, no kidding.” With methodical slowness he reached for a jerky stick and began chewing. “Maybe Desdemona was right. Maybe he was more concerned with being clever than helping people.”

“Desdemona is hardly has an unbiased opinion,” Margot pointed out. “You knew him better than she did. What do you think?”

“That’s just it, Prof, I don’t know. Got a lot to think about.” He polished off the rest of his jerky and sighed heavily. “What a mess.”

“A mess we both jumped into voluntarily,” Margot said. “You’re not getting cold feet again, are you?”

“’Course not. I couldn’t let my client down like that.”

Margot smiled. “Then what’s next, Detective? We have a lot more information than we did before, but I’m not sure if it’s true or what it means if it is.”

“I think it’d be helpful if we knew what made the thing blow up, Wright’s formula or the rig,” Dash said. “Maybe it’s time should pay my contact with the coppers another visit and see how the official investigation is coming along. You wanna come along and translate magical jargin for me?”

“Sure. And maybe I can find some spare change for Tobe and have him look into Abigail’s workplace.”

“Sounds like a plan, Prof.” He forced a bracing smile, but Dash looked about as worn out as Margot felt. She patted him on the arm reassuringly.

“We did good work today. Now let’s get some sleep so we can do it again tomorrow, and maybe we’ll find out what we need to clean up this mess once and for all.”

“I’d like that,” Dash said. “I’d like that a lot.”

The pair offered their final goodbyes for the night and headed their separate ways, but no matter what Margot said it was to be another long and restless night.