#and then that friend fades into dust just a day later… showing you how temporary all of this is

[perenlop]

oh it feels weird to not comment on the minior episode so. here’s something i said on discord earlier or something idk

[starryhyuck]

falling star (m) | prince!hyuck

pairing: donghyuck x reader

words: 7k+

summary: you’re betrothed to the handsome prince donghyuck, but when your life is put in danger, you’re unsure if you can trust him.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: prince!donghyuck, princess!reader, soulmate!au, mentions of death, unprotected sex, public sex, sex in prison lmao, impregnation, little bit of voyeurism

basically i rewatched moon lovers and i turned this fic into a kdrama,,, thank you for 1k followers!!

terms to know:

gongju - princess

jeonha - king

seja-jeonha - crown prince (next in line for the throne)

wangja - son of a king and a concubine

daegun - prince, but not made to be king

You first experience heartbreak when you are only three years old.

You watched as your mother faded before you, her life escaping her body as she consumed the dark poison hidden in her tea. You remember all of the servants rushing to her aid, screaming for someone to fetch the physician. It wasn’t until minutes later that someone realized you were still in the room, carrying you away as you cried for your mother.

Since that day, you’ve carried yourself with a heavy heart.

There were numerous whispers roaming around the castle — most of them talking about how you were a witness to your mother’s death, and how you never recovered. They weren’t wrong.

Your mother’s killer was never clearly identified. All of the servants in the palace had been thoroughly questioned but many false accusations were made and your father, who was in the depths of his grief, decided to kill the wrongly accused. He never launched a full investigation and instead, attended to you and your siblings to prolong the mourning period.

Your father became a more gentle king after his wife’s death. Wars ceased and the plantation in the kingdom became more fruitful after your father diverted the kingdom’s expenses. He did not take on any more lovers and focused on his palace and his children.

You, however, became cautious as you grew up in the palace, afraid that your mother’s killer still walks before you.

“Gongju, shouldn’t you be carrying out your duties?”

You blink when Mark rounds the corner, taking a seat beside you. The both of you rest peacefully underneath one of the blossoming trees, but you should know that your brother cannot keep silent for long.

“Donghyuck arrives today.”

“Good for him.”

Mark sighs. “I know you do not wish to be married, but-“

“But nothing,” you hiss, standing up and brushing off the dust on your skirt. Chaeyoung, your attending lady, rushes to your side once she sees your movement. She bows deeply in recognition of your brother’s presence. “If Taeyong wants to marry me off so carelessly, then so be it.”

“You know that’s not true-“

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, walking off with Chaeyoung in step behind you. She says nothing but you can tell she wants to interfere.

Chaeyoung has been your best friend since you were younger, assigned to be your personal lady when you both were only eight years old. Chaeyoung knew you better than anyone else, and she understood your hatred towards your upcoming marriage.

It was only days ago when Taeyong, your oldest brother and crown prince, decided to persuade your father into finding you a suitable marriage. You were of age to be married and if you did not find a suitable partner in time, the palace would begin to murmur.

Donghyuck was a prince from a neighboring kingdom, sent by his brother, Moon Taeil, to arrange a marriage between you. Since Donghyuck was a result of one of his father’s affairs, he had no chance of becoming the king of his own palace. Taeil still loved his brother dearly and wanted to find him a good match.

Unluckily, that match was you.

You run into Taeyong on your way back to your quarters, and you offer him a bow.

��Seja-jeonha, nice to see you.”

He smiles tightly at Chaeyoung and asks her to excuse himself as he pulls you aside.

“You are supposed to be on the palace steps to greet Prince Donghyuck. He traveled five days just to meet you, you know.”

“Such a long time for something so disappointing.”

It’s clear Taeyong is distressed by your blatant disobedience. It’s not often a princess rejects a marriage offer, but you can’t help but be displeased. You’ve never wanted a conventional marriage and you hoped your father would never set you up for one.

“You’re lucky that Donghyuck accepted the offer. You know that most of father’s advisors wished to send you off like we did with Naeun. I’m grateful for Donghyuck so we could still have you in the palace.”

You know deep down that Taeyong means the best. He hates when his family is separated, and all of you were particularly saddened when Naeun was married off a year ago, leaving the palace to be with her husband. Because of the long travel and royal duties, you haven’t been able to see her since she left.

You understand why he wants you to get married so quickly. If you don’t marry Donghyuck now, your father’s advisors would convince him to marry you to another prince from a far kingdom.

You sigh. Although you don’t want to get married anytime soon, you’d rather stay in the palace than be forced to leave. “I understand, Taeyong. I’ll play my part if I need to. Is he at least good-looking?”

Taeyong laughs. “Yes, he’s quite handsome.”

“Excuse me, seja-jeonha.” Eunuch Kim bows deeply as he stands in front of you two.

“You can just call me Taeyong, Doyoung. We’ve been over this.”

You know, however, that no matter how many times Taeyong says it, Doyoung could never go against the honorifics.

“Gongju’s presence is requested at the front of the palace. Prince Donghyuck is arriving soon.”

You purse your lips. “I’ll be right there.”

He nods, bowing before stepping away. Taeyong envelopes you into a hug.

He whispers in your ear. “This is what’s best for you, forgive me.”

“You don’t need to be forgiven,” you mumble back, feeling slightly guilty that you’ve made your brother think so.

Once you part, you smile at Chaeyoung, who has been waiting patiently for you.

“Shall we?”

You two make your way to the front steps of the palace, where most of the palace is eagerly waiting to see the prince.

“Jeonha,” you greet your father, occupying the spot next to him. He smiles at you.

“You look lovely today. Excited to meet Donghyuck?”

You offer him your best fake smile. “Of course.”

Soldiers announce Donghyuck’s arrival before the gates of the palace are opened up for him. He comes in riding his horse, stopping in front of the palace steps and dismounting. He’s quick to bow and you’re a little taken out of breath.

Taeyong was right. He’s very handsome.

“Welcome, Prince Donghyuck,” your father shouts for the palace to hear. You can spot your other two brothers, Jeno and Seokmin, murmuring with each other as they eye Donghyuck. “We’re grateful that you have made the long trip to our kingdom.”

Donghyuck is listening to the king’s words yet he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Yes, I appreciate that jeonha has so graciously allowed me into the palace.”

You stare at him the same way he stares at you, and your father grins happily.

“Eunuch Kim will show you to your temporary quarters.”

Jungwoo is pushed forward by Doyoung, who gives him a stern expression. Jungwoo was new to the palace and Doyoung often needed to take care of him since he was head eunuch.

Donghyuck is escorted off and your eyes follow his figure.

Your father chuckles. “You two will get along just fine.”

—

Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck hasn’t visited you since his arrival.

You’ve spent days waiting for him in your room, working on your studies and watching your door in case it swings open. You’re disappointed by his lack of interest in you, especially because you can still feel the warmth of his gaze from your first meeting.

You find out later from Jungwoo what he’s been up to.

“Wangja has been having trips with daegun, did he not tell you?”

Your eye twitches. “Donghyuck has been with Mark this entire time?”

“Yes, gongju. They have been eating together in the dining hall. I apologize for not telling you earlier.”

Jesus, was Donghyuck trying to marry Mark?

“It’s fine, Jungwoo. I’ll find them myself.”

He bows and you take off in search of your brother and fiancé. You ask Chaeyoung to stay behind and she takes to arranging your room in the meantime. You find the two figures near the river, and you narrow your eyes.

“Having fun?” You call out, and both of them turn around. Donghyuck bows at the sight of you.

Mark chuckles. “Yes, we were actually just speaking about you. Come join us.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll leave you two to be acquainted with each other. It’s not like I’m the one marrying him after all.”

Mark rolls his eyes at your tantrum but Donghyuck seems to be thoroughly alarmed at your distress.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

You, however, are highly offended and turn the other direction. You hear footsteps quickly follow you.

“I apologize, gongju. I did not mean to upset you.”

You sigh at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice. “Why have you not come to see me?” You question in a small voice.

You can hear the smile in his tone as he walks alongside you. “In all honestly, I have never been in the presence of such beauty before. I hope you can understand that I was a little intimidated.”

You cough, slightly embarrassed. “Where did you learn that from? I know Mark couldn’t have taught you that.”

He chuckles. His eyes are once again focused intently on you.

“I’m afraid no one has taught me anything. I was telling the truth, much to your dismay.”

You two walk on the palace grounds as the moonlight illuminates your figures. The servants nearby whisper at the sight of you two together.

“Well, regardless of your fear, I would enjoy if you would take my company. We are going to be married in case you’ve forgotten.”

He grins at the clip in your tone. “I remember quite well. I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow if you desire my company so badly.”

You ignore the smirk playing at his lips.

“Tomorrow shall be acceptable. I hope you will be able to step up in the future, Donghyuck, as I am not content with marrying a man who doesn’t speak to me.”

He laughs. “I apologize for disappointing you.”

You turn to face him as you stop in front of your quarters. His eyes are locked with yours, and he seems intent on staring at you until you grow more and more bashful. You think he’s about to lean in until-

“Ah, there are the two lovebirds!”

You huff at the disruption. Seokmin slides next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Has my sister been living up to your expectations, Prince Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck smiles and you can tell he’s a little upset by Seokmin’s arrival. His heavy gaze is still focused on you.

“She’s been exceeding every possible expectation if I’m being truly honest,” he murmurs.

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard someone say that.”

You elbow your brother’s side. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nowhere else to be but with my lovely sister and her fiancé!”

You roll your eyes and shove his arm off of you. You step forward to open the doors of your personal area in the palace.

“Well, I’m going to bed.” You turn around once again to face Donghyuck. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He smiles. “I’ll count the minutes. Sweet dreams, gongju.”

You enter your quarters in time to hear Seokmin say, “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”

You shake your head and smile, closing the doors behind you. You chew on your bottom lip and laugh. Who knew a prince would turn your insides into mush?

You greet the guards awaiting by your bedroom door and settle inside. Chaeyoung has made you your nightly tea, something you drink each night to help you sleep. You often had sporadic nightmares about your mother’s death and it was hard to fall into slumber most days.

As you raise the cup to your lips, the smell wafts through your nose.

It’s the same smell from when your mother was poisoned.

“Guards! Guards!” You call frantically, and they burst into your room, eyes scanning for any intruders.

You drop the cup of tea, watching as it shatters all over your floor. “Gongju!” One of the guards yells, rushing over to you and pulling you away from the scene.

It all happens frantically then — your father and brothers are all brought over when they hear that you’ve almost been poisoned. Jeno holds you as your father commands all of the guards to find the perpetrator.

The only thing you’re able to envision is your mother’s body lying on the floor, completely lifeless before your eyes.

—

“It wasn’t her!”

“How can you be so sure? She’s your closest servant and the only one who would have access to your room during those ungodly hours!”

“It’s not Chaeyoung!”

“Enough!” Your father commands, his voice booming throughout the throne room. You scoff and turn away from Taeyong.

He’s convinced that Chaeyoung was the one who put the poison in your drink, but you would never believe that she would bring harm into your life. You trusted her with every fiber in your being.

The rest of your brothers are oddly silent, and you presume that they agree with Taeyong. Your father is stricken by grief at the idea of losing one of his daughters like he lost his wife. His judgment is clouded, much like it was seventeen years ago.

“Please jeonha,” you beg him. All five of you are facing the throne and you almost sink to your knees. “Please do not allow this person to get away again.”

Your father glances at you solemnly.

“It has to be him,” Jeno speaks up. All of your eyes dart over to him. He stands proudly, eyes locked on your father. “Lee Donghyuck just arrived and our sister was almost poisoned. This cannot be a coincidence.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not him! I’ve been spending the past few days getting to know him.”

“He’s spent the past few days deceiving you,” Seokmin hisses at his younger brother. “I agree with Jeno. I was just outside of gongju’s quarters with him when she almost consumed the poison. It is too suspicious for us to not investigate, jeonha.”

“He wouldn’t,” you frown, coming to Donghyuck’s defense. You had only known him for a matter of days but you knew, deep down, that he would never try to maliciously hurt you.

“You trust too easily,” Jeno scolds. He turns his attention back to the man sitting on the throne. “I think we should launch a full investigation on both Lee Donghyuck and Park Chaeyoung.”

“It’s not them!” Your exclaim in horror, trying your best to undo your brothers’ words. “Please, jeonha! Please don’t convict the wrong murderer!”

You try your best to plead with your father, but he’s made up his mind.

“Jeno and Seokmin, I want you to conduct the investigation immediately. Find out who did it.”

You drop to your knees, sobbing in frustration at your father’s ignorance.

—

It’s late at night when you sneak into the palace prison.

You’ve managed to climb out of your window, hidden beneath one of your dark ensembles. Mark has been helping you unlike the rest of your family, distracting the guards long enough for you to enter the prison grounds.

You scramble against the cell door when you catch sight of Chaeyoung. She looks like she’s in incredibly poor shape — her face is completely drained of color and her body is limp against the wall.

“Chaeyoung!” You whisper, awaking her from her sleep. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, rapidly getting up and crawling to the door.

“Gongju, I did not do it, I swear-“

“I know you didn’t, Chaeyoung,” you assure her. She relaxes at your words. “I’m going to find out who did. Can you tell me what happened when you brought the tea into my room?”

“I just did my normal routine,” she explains breathily. “I brought the tea to your room, left a cup out for you, and went back to my own quarters. It’s the same thing I do every night. I didn’t notice anyone unusual when I left.”

“And the guards? What about them?”

“They were in their usual positions, standing beside the door and waiting for you to return from your walk with Donghyuck. That’s all I can remember, I swear.”

You nod. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m going to get you out of here. Just tell Jeno and Seokmin exactly what you told me.”

You hear a commotion outside and your body stiffens. You can hear Mark’s voice trying to distract the guards and you quickly stand.

“I’ll come back to see you again, okay? Don’t worry.”

Just as you’re about to exit the prison, you hear another voice calling out to you.

“Not even going to acknowledge your loving fiancé?”

You pause. Mark is slowly making progress outside, choosing his method of distraction as telling the guards a story about how he once ran straight into a wall.

When you turn, you see Donghyuck in his own cell, knees bent to his chest as he leans against the cold wall. You feel guilty that he’s put in this place but you’re reminded of what your brothers said — you barely know this man. For all you knew, his true intentions coming here were never to marry you.

“Did you?”

There’s a pause. He laughs. “Do you think I did?”

“I’m not in the mood to decipher your encrypted messages.”

“Gongju, when I confessed to you that night, I truly meant it. I’ve never been with a woman before and seeing such a perfect one become my fiancé took me by surprise. I thought we had a mutual understanding of one another.”

“We barely know each other,” you reply under your breath.

“But you felt it, didn’t you? You felt that connection between us. The astronomers say that when the timing is right and the stars align, soulmates find each other.”

You’ve heard the tale before. Your mother used to tell it to you when you were younger. Astronomers used to tell her that when there was a falling star, soulmates would align for each other. Your mother always liked to say the story of how you were born under a fallen star, your soulmate being brought to you by the universe. You believed her stories when you were younger but as you grew up without a mother and never feeling her warmth again, you could no longer believe in such tales.

“Do you think that’s what we are? Soulmates?”

He stares at you again, his eyes acting like dark hooks in your soul. He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the guards burst in through the door, and you can distinctly hear Mark shouting from a distance.

“I’m sorry, gongju, but you must be escorted back to your quarters. You are not allowed to see the prisoners.”

You glance at Donghyuck, who for the first time, isn’t looking at you. He’s merely staring at the floor.

“Very well then. Please escort me.”

As you trek back to your room, you question your head guard, Johnny. “Did you see anyone enter my room that night?” He immediately shakes his head.

“No one unusual, gongju. It was a very normal night, but I do not believe that Chaeyoung would bring something so vile into your place of comfort. I hope I’m allowed to speak on these matters.”

“You’re more than allowed, Johnny,” you guarantee him. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Of course.”

Before Johnny brings you inside, you glance up at the night sky. There are two stars huddled together, perfectly placed in the darkness.

Was Donghyuck your soulmate?

—

It’s only a day later when Moon Taeil arrives on palace grounds in search of his imprisoned brother. He’s clearly irate, dismounting from his horse and grabbing the nearest guard.

“Show me where he is!”

“Seja-jeonha!” You cry out, rushing over to him and pulling the guards away from him. He turns his attention to you.

“Is this how you treat my brother after I sent him to marry you? Excuse my manners, gongju, but I did not bring Donghyuck here for him to be put to death.”

“He won’t be! Please, seja-jeonha, let’s speak privately,” you plead. He finally comes to his senses, gazing around to see servants and eunuchs watching the scene unfold. He straightens his outfit and nods.

“Fine. Show me the way.”

You accompany Taeil to a nearby building, away from the prying eyes of the palace. You know you don’t have much time to speak before your father finds out of his presence and instructs a formal meeting in the throne room.

“My brothers suspected Donghyuck because of poor timing but I know he has not committed any crime. I need you to help me prove that he’s innocent.”

Taeil scoffs at your request. “What kind of game are you running around this kingdom?”

“Please, seja-jeonha. I don’t want Donghyuck to be convicted either.”

“Because you’re soulmates?”

You freeze. “How do you know that?”

“You two were born a month apart and on each of your birthdays, a fallen star was spotted in the sky. Our astronomers noticed it when they first came to visit your palace.”

“Wait, Yuta was your astronomer?”

Taeil chuckles. “Yes, he was. His father used to document star patterns and when Yuta visited and learned of your birth date, he informed Donghyuck immediately.” Taeil smiles at the thought of his younger brother. “Why do you think we arranged a marriage for you two so quickly?”

Your head is spinning. Donghyuck has known this entire time that you two were soulmates, and that’s the reason Taeil pushed the marriage between you two. The gravity of the situation dawns on you, especially now that your soulmate rests behind the bars of the palace prison.

You grab Taeil by the shoulders. “Tell jeonha immediately. He believes in this — he believes he and my mother were soulmates. He will spare Donghyuck if you tell him.”

The doors to the building swing open and Eunuch Kim takes a deep bow in recognition. “I apologize for interrupting, seja-jeonha, but jeonha is requesting your presence.”

Taeil gives you another look before following Doyoung back outside. It isn’t long until Mark finds you, his arms embracing you into a hug when he sees your stricken expression.

“What is it? What happened? Is Taeil threatening a war?”

You shake your head and bury yourself into his shoulder. He holds you steady.

“Donghyuck is my soulmate.”

You think Mark would be deep in thought or surprised by what you revealed, but he simply giggles.

“He mentioned that.”

You pull away and frown. “What are you talking about?”

“When we were by the river, he said you were his soulmate and that he was destined to be with you. I thought he was just trying to impress me since I’m your brother. Now that I think about it, maybe it wasn’t a joke,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head.

You almost see red. You tackle Mark to the ground and he screeches. Some of the servants file in, attracted by the noise.

“You dumbass! You let me throw my soulmate in jail!”

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know!” Mark shouts, shielding his face as you slam your palms down on his skin.

Jungwoo rushes in, pushing the servants away and clambering over to the two of you.

“Gongju, daegun! Please don’t fight!”

You huff, separating from your brother and standing up. You straighten your chima and stare down at him with fire in your eyes.

One of your ladies ends up pulling you away while Jungwoo helps Mark off of the floor.

Seojeong, who has been your main attending lady since the accusation against Chaeyoung, looks at you worriedly as you storm off. She follows behind you along with the rest of your attending ladies.

“Gongju, are you alright?”

“I need you to do something for me, Seojeong,” you murmur as the palace prison comes into view. There are still ten guards blocking the entrance and you need to talk to Donghyuck before your father makes a decision about his fate. You fear that your father will feel guilty for imprisoning Donghyuck and he’ll send him back with Taeil.

“I’ll do anything,” she promises.

You turn her body so that she’s staring directly at Johnny. “Do you see him?” When she nods, you proceed with your plan. “I need you to go up to him and tell him that jeonha instructs for all of the guards to be in the throne room.”

She stutters at your request. “But jeonha never said-“

“I know jeonha never said. Tell Johnny anyways.”

You give her a little push forwards, ignoring the timid look on her face. You quickly dismiss the rest of your ladies and hide behind a nearby corner, peeking out to see Seojeong approach Johnny anxiously. You hear her small voice fill the air.

“J-Jeonha requests for t-the guards to be in the throne r-room,” she says, eyes glancing down at her feet.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Our orders are to stay here until a verdict is made.”

“Um,” she mumbles, trying to think of what to say next.

“Come on, Seojeong,” you hiss under your breath. You can see her gathering enough courage before she speaks, eyes ablaze.

“Don’t you understand? You have new orders! Hurry before jeonha gets angry at your blatant disrespect!”

That gets Johnny’s attention. He grabs his right-hand man, Jaehyun, and all of the guards scramble frantically towards the throne room. You smile at Seojeong’s work and once all of the guards have left, she gives you the okay.

You rush over and hold her hand. “You’re a lifesaver, Seojeong.” She beams at your compliment. “Keep an eye out for me, okay?”

She nods and you enter the prison building, descending down the concrete steps. You gasp when you see Donghyuck in his cell, body slumped over against the wall.

You fall to your knees and struggle to open the door. He wakes when he hears the commotion. His mouth slowly turns upwards when he sees you. You finally manage to throw the door open, swinging it to the side as you crawl over to him. You cup his face in your hands and he laughs.

“Excited to see me?”

You don’t waste a single second, pressing your lips to his. His hands fly down to your waist, pulling you in closer. He groans when you straddle his hips.

He pulls away, a little breathless. “Is she asleep?”

“Who?”

“Chaeyoung,” he murmurs, pushing his fingers through your hair. “Is she asleep?”

“I-I don’t know. I didn’t check on her.”

He calls out Chaeyoung’s name and when he gets nothing but silence, he pushes your body onto the floor. You gasp when he attaches his mouth on your neck, licking and sucking at the flesh.

“D-Donghyuck, we shouldn’t. We’re not married yet-“

“We’re soulmates,” he whispers against your skin. “Isn’t that enough?”

You moan when he reaches underneath your clothing to run a finger over your slit. You feel dirty on this prison floor, letting Donghyuck take you the way he wants. He brings his lips to yours again and you cry out when his tongue enters your mouth. He frantically undresses you and you’re embarrassed when he strips you down until you’re in your sokgot.

“Don’t be shy,” he speaks softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

You whimper when he fully rids you of your clothing. He sits up to undress himself and your mouth waters as he exposes himself to you. He discards the rest, throwing it to the side and leaning back down to kiss you. His hand cups your breast and your body twitches when he flicks his finger over your nipple.

“Such a good girl,” he praises you.

You gasp when his cock prods at your entrance. Your eyes dart down and they widen at the sight of him. He’s massive, and you’re unsure if he’s going to fit inside of you.

“Wangja, um, I don’t think-“

He snickers at your reaction. “Don’t think you can take it, baby? Don’t think you can take my big cock?”

You groan. “N-No, I can take it.”

“Good girl,” he smiles. He grabs his base and runs his tip over your folds. You moan at the feeling. 

Both of your eyes widen when you hear voices outside, and Donghyuck pauses.

“Seojeong, I’m not sure what you mistake us for, but we do not enjoy being treated as fools.”

“Fuck, baby, we have to be quick. Can’t have anyone seeing their gongju acting like a whore,” he hisses.

You whine. “Hurry, Donghyuck.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he assures before pushing his cock inside of your weeping pussy. You cry out at the burn, tears brimming at your eyelids.

He releases a long groan when he bottoms out and you close your eyes, trying to adjust to his length. You can faintly hear Seojeong’s voice.

“I thought jeonha needed you! I didn’t know, Johnny, really-“

“You good, baby?” Donghyuck speaks lowly to you, brushing stray hairs away from your face so he can properly look at you. When you don’t respond, he rubs your hip gently. “Baby, tell me how you’re feeling.”

Your eyes flutter open when the pain begins to subside. “Good, good,” you blubber incoherently. You reach out for him and he intertwines your hands. “Hurry.”

He starts thrusting into you and you whimper. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“So dirty,” he hums. “What would the palace think of their graceful gongju getting railed in the filthy prison cells? Can’t wait until you have our baby, then everyone’s going to know how much you like to get fucked.”

“Want to show them,” you murmur, eyes rolling back as his thick cock abuses your small pussy. “Want to tell them I’m your whore.”

“Yeah? You’re just my filthy whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I’m all yours, wangja.”

You feel the pleasure building inside of your tummy, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you. You swear he’s going to split you in half.

Seojeong is doing her best to distract Johnny outside.

“I need to tell you a story!”

Johnny is far from amused. “I have to check on the prisoners, Miss Seojeong-“

“It’s about the princess!”

Jaehyun sighs. “Seojeong, we don’t have time for a story-“

“But listen!” She exclaims, the gears in her brain turning. There’s a long beat of silence. “Um-“

Johnny rolls his eyes, entering the prison building and moving down the steps. He briefly pauses when he hears your moan.

“Wangja, please, please, please!”

Jaehyun thinks that you’re in danger and runs past Johnny, stopping in his tracks when he sees you and Donghyuck. The prison cell door is wide open, fully exposing the both of your figures as Donghyuck plows into you. Jaehyun immediately diverts his eyes when he catches a glimpse of your breasts.

He hurriedly pushes the men away from the sight, although none of them are able to get a peek.

“Move back! Move back!” Jaehyun orders. The guards scramble on the steps as Jaehyun forcefully moves them.

You wail when your orgasm hits, stars exploding in your vision. Donghyuck soon empties inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

You’re both left panting and he kisses you gently, hand cupping the side of your face.

“Got to explain to your guards what you were doing.”

You laugh. “I was getting fucked. What is there to explain?”

He growls. “Dirty mouth on you, gongju.”

“Only for my wangja.”

—

Jaehyun can’t look at you in the eye when you exit the prison doors. Johnny has an idea of what happened down there, but he doesn’t want to even picture the idea of you doing such a lewd act.

They both escort you back to your dwelling after Johnny gives you a light scolding for breaking the rules again. When you arrive at your bedroom doors, you turn around and offer them a small smile.

“Sorry.”

No other words need to be said, and the redness of Jaehyun’s ears say enough.

Johnny coughs. “Jeonha spoke with Taeil earlier today and Donghyuck will be released tomorrow. I thought you would like to know.”

You cough. “Um yes, that’s good to know. Thank you, Johnny.”

You walk into your bedroom and shut the doors, still feeling embarrassed that your guards caught you in such an intimate position. You turn around, frowning when you see that you have company.

“Seokmin? What are you doing here so late?”

Your brother smiles at you, sitting down at the small table near your bed and gesturing for you to join him.

“I thought we could have a talk.”

You shrug, wincing as you sit across from him. Your legs still feel like jelly after Donghyuck gave you a good fucking.

Seokmin pours a cup of tea for you and puts it in front of you. He gives you that friendly grin of his.

“What have you been up to all day? I heard you almost killed Mark.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s being dramatic. I barely scratched him.”

He chuckles at your dismissive nature. He eyes the cup in front of you and gives it a small push.

“Drink up. I know you like to have tea before bed.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking the cup in your hands.

Seokmin starts speaking about how Jeno lost in combat today and you hum, raising the tea to your lips. You pause when you smell it.

The poison — you could smell it from miles away.

You pretend to drink while you watch your brother. There’s no way it’s Seokmin, your loving and devoted brother who used to play hide and seek with you when you were feeling upset. The brother who protected you when the palace was invaded by rebels. The brother who cared for you so deeply.

But you didn’t have time to think. Only time to act.

You slam the cup down and call out for Johnny. Seokmin lunges across the table at you and you release a bloodcurdling scream.

Johnny and Jaehyun storm inside and Johnny pushes Seokmin off of you. Jaehyun pulls you aside, checking for any bruises on your body.

“Stupid bitch! Why can’t you just drink your fucking tea-“

“Daegun, daegun!” Johnny bellows, trying to get a hold of your brother.

You’re in a state of shock, attempting to register the sight before you. Your brother just tried to poison you.

Jaehyun gets you on your feet and pulls you away from the scene. Soon enough, the palace hears Seokmin’s screams and Taeyong is the first to rush to your aid.

“What happened? Is that Seokmin?”

“Daegun tried to poison gongju,” Jaehyun explains. You’re still rooted in place, staring at your quarters as multiple guards flood inside.

“What?”

Mark is the second to arrive but before he can ask what’s wrong, Seokmin is dragged out of the building, screaming and thrashing under Johnny’s hold.

“You’re traitors! All of you!”

You watch as your brother is taken away into the same prison where your fiancé sleeps soundly.

—

You swear you can hear crickets chirping. You and your siblings have been called into your father’s bedroom after Seokmin’s arrest. The room is eerily silent for no one knows exactly what to say.

Taeyong clears his throat. He’s been crying, and you know this hurts him more than you can imagine.

“Why? Why would he try to hurt his sister?”

Your father sighs. He’s been pacing back and forth, struggling at what to say. You need an explanation from him as you cannot accept that Seokmin grew to hate you overnight. It wasn’t in his nature to ever accept that form of hatred.

“Jeonha, please,” Mark begs, on the verge of tears. “Why has he done this?”

“We need an explanation,” Jeno adds.

Your father finally glances at all of you, troubled by the grief in your expressions. You look exactly as you did when your mother passed.

“Seokmin is not your mother’s child,” he explains. All four of your heads dart up. “He- he was conceived through a concubine, but your mother was gracious enough to raise him as her own. We’ve accepted it since then. Seokmin was raised no differently than the rest of you, and we loved him just the same.”

You blink, rubbing at your temples to try and process this information.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but the damage is done. “I never wanted to tell him because I feared this would happen, but I guess he found out somehow.”

Something clicks in your memory.

“Where is his mother?”

He exhales, running a hand down his face exasperatedly. “She was a servant here in the palace, but she left shortly after your mother passed away. She didn’t want anything to do with raising Seokmin.”

Your mind starts putting the pieces together. “She was a servant — a servant who had access to mother’s residence?”

Taeyong’s eyes move to you, catching what you’re implying. You step forward and look at your father dead in the eye.

“Don’t you see, jeonha? She was the one who poisoned mother. She was the one who had access to her room, the one who brought her tea every night. She’s the reason why Seokmin tried to hurt me, she must’ve brainwashed him into believing that we no longer care for him.”

Your father stares at you, taking in all of the information you’re telling him.

“But Seokmin knows,” Jeno interrupts. “He knows we care for him. I refuse to believe this! He was probably put up to it by that nasty Lee Donghyuck!”

“Hey!” You swivel around, growling at your brother. “Do not speak that way about him.”

Jeno scoffs. “What? Have you fallen for him?”

“They’re soulmates,” your father explains.

“Come on. Tell me you don’t believe in that!”

“Lee Jeno, I swear-“

Mark quickly holds you back before you charge at your brother.

“Listen,” your father’s voice booms throughout the room. You all freeze. “I know you are all upset by what Seokmin has done, but we are going to do our best to reverse whatever his birth mother has done to him. I’ll have the guards and soldiers search for her so we can bring your mother justice. In the meantime, I want you all to remember that we are a family. You grew up together and only we know the faults of our family.”

You eye Jeno and he narrows his gaze at you.

“You all are siblings, blood related or not. Do you understand?”

“Yes, jeonha.”

—

Seokmin is released from his confines a week later.

He cries when he sees you, enveloping you into his arms and sobbing into your shoulder. He apologizes profusely for his actions, stating that he would never try to bring harm to you again.

For five days, you all spend time together as siblings in an effort to turn Seokmin back into his normal self. You hold no grudges against your brother, loving him with all of your heart despite his brief wrongdoings.

Seokmin’s birth mother is arrested and taken into the palace, where she awaits your father’s verdict. You have a feeling about what future lies before her, but you would rather not speak of it out loud.

Donghyuck is released with Chaeyoung shortly after the incident. You embrace him fully when he returns and Chaeyoung becomes your main attending lady again.

You and Donghyuck are arranged to be married tomorrow. Taeil is still a little hesitant on having his brother live in a place that treated him so cruelly, but Donghyuck finds a way to convince him that he’s safe. Taeyong says that Taeil’s only fine with it because he sees the way Donghyuck dotes on you. He’s attending the wedding tomorrow before he has to return back to his own kingdom.

Donghyuck is supposed to separate from you until the day of the wedding, but he’s been sneaking into your room every night, pounding you into the pillow until you cry for mercy.

It was more difficult for him to sneak out tonight as your brothers wanted to officially welcome him into the family with a special party. He managed to get away when Jeno stands on the table, trying to dance but failing miserably.

He currently has your legs bent to your chest, thrusting deep into your weeping pussy.

“Such a tight pussy,” he hisses down at you, wiping the tears falling down your face. “Made for my fat cock, aren’t you?”

You respond incoherently, drunk on the feeling of him. He reaches down to rub at your clit and you sob louder, muscles aching.

“Good thing we’re getting married tomorrow, baby. Would be too suspicious if you got pregnant so fast, wouldn’t it be?” He questions, smirking at your loss for words. “Is my gongju fucked dumb? Can’t remember how to talk, baby?”

“F-Feels so g-good,” you blubber. “You feel s-so good i-inside me.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, plowing into your pussy faster. “Baby likes when my cock stretches her small pussy? I wonder how your brothers would feel about me if they knew I dump my cum into their sister every single night. Jeno would probably hate me even more.”

“G-gonna cum, gonna cum!” You screech, hands flailing. He pins your arms down and snarls.

“Cum all over my cock. Show me how much you want your wangja.”

You cream his cock and your back arches in ecstasy, moaning loudly at the pleasure overtaking your body. Donghyuck shoots his cum inside your womb, hissing as he empties himself.

He collapses next to you and you whimper when his cock leaves your hole. He brings you into his arms and kisses the top of your head.

“Can’t wait to be married to you.”

You laugh, your chest still rising from your heavy breathing. “If you had only waited 24 hours, we would already be.”

He chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You bask in the silence as his cum starts to spill out of you.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“Good.”

He attaches his mouth to yours and you moan when his fingers part your folds. He lines himself up to your entrance once again.

“Let’s make sure.”

And so Donghyuck fucks you until the sun rises, marking the long awaited wedding day with your soulmate.

You thank the heavens for giving you your falling star.

[punkpresentmic]

Traitor Aizawa AU Pt 8 — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

It’s an otherwise unmemorable patrol for Shouta, the streets almost entirely empty at this hour. When he notices the shadows of the alleyway shift in the corner of his eye, he can't be certain it isn't a figment of his imagination.

He stares into the inky blackness for a long while, paused at its edge with a hand on his capture weapon.

The flick of a lighter announces the man’s presence, illuminating a face not unfamiliar to Shouta. Giran smiles as he lights his cigarette. "Evening, Eraserhead—have you got a minute?"

His reputation precedes him. Giran’s involved in the worst sorts of deals, a broker for villains & criminals of every caliber. If he’s here, it’s trouble. It’s exactly why Shouta approaches; this is his route to protect. "What are you doing here?"

Giran takes his time answering, rolling well-scripted words around his tongue as he takes a drag of his cigarette & blows a slow cloud of smoke that disappears into the nearest streetlight. "My client wanted me to have a word with you. To get your thoughts on a couple business matters."

"I have no business with the likes of you. What do you want."

"I see we’re not sugar-coating things here. Alright, then." He flicks ash onto the pavement. "My client has intel regarding the incident that killed Shirakumo Oboro."

The air is stolen from Shouta’s lungs, & for one hysterical moment he thinks it’s an attack from a Quirk. He gathers himself, shows nothing but a scowl on his face.

Giran continues, "This info is deep & dirty, implicates all sorts of characters. But my client is willing to make a trade: a morsel of info for a morsel of info. You drop off your package, my client drops off theirs. I’ll see to that; I have a reputation to uphold, you know." He smiles. "Customer satisfaction & all that."

Shouta crosses his arms, hiding how his nails bite into his fists as his heart thuds. "What does your boss want to know." He makes his tone bored, disinterested.

"Simple, really: a schedule of UA training exercises. & remember, hero: incorrect information only gets you incorrect information in return."

Disgust rolls through him. "Why is your client interested in that?"

Giran shrugs. "Beats me!" He laughs.

“Okay. Why would I ever give criminal scum like you information like that," he scoffs. It’s not a question, even as... troubling... as this exchange has been. He’ll have to report the strange & cruel ruse.

“Because you want to know what really happened to your old pal Oboro, of course." Shouta’s body locks up to even hear the name, let alone tossed around so casually. The weight of what Giran’s saying truly hits him then—intel regarding the incident, implicates all sorts of characters, what really happened. Giran sees this & grins around his cigarette. "What? It’s just a schedule," he drawls. "Even if my client wished a class of highschoolers any harm, do you not have faith in yourself & UA to protect them? You have All Might on staff now, for god’s sake."

Shouta hesitates. It’s enough of a betrayal in itself.

"& after we get you everything you need to know, you can tell your boss. We don’t ask for your permanent silence; it’s just that for now the matter is... delicate." He taps the ash from the tip of his cigarette, shaking his head. "It’s filthy business, really—like I said, it involves lots of types who’d rather it be kept quiet." A wink, then. "& it’s not like we’re asking a lot from you either—it’s a steal, if you ask me."

Implication of people ‘who’d rather it be kept quiet?’ On the subject of... him?

The trade is simple enough, so long as he can guarantee his students‘ safety. & he’s naïve, in his vulnerable state, & fiercely believes he WILL protect them. & he WILL get Oboro the justice he deserves.

Shouta makes the trade a day later, a sick feeling to his stomach. On the schedule: the location for USJ.

Shouta becomes responsible for nearly getting his students, the Symbol of Peace, & himself killed. & it’s abundantly clear he’s made a deal with the devil—Giran’s 'client' doubtlessly being the League of Villains themselves. Ultimately, the League failed, but they were close. Too close. & the weight of it is on Shouta’s shoulders.

At the very least, it leads to the capture of one of their strongest weapons, the Nomu, which is, repulsively, determined to have once been human. A human modified beyond recognition.

Giran has some nerve calling after this. Shouta answers his phone with a vengeance. Giran opens with poison praise: "See, I told you you could do it!"

The rage & pain of USJ comes to a boil under Shouta’s skin, least of all the fact that it was for nothing. "You told me nothing about Oboro," Shouta hisses despite himself, the words spilling unbidden from traitorous, unheroic lips.

“Oh, I do believe we did, hero. Your investigators aren't completely incompetent at digging out some answers. But here’s an extra bonus for your trouble: Shirakumo Oboro is alive. He was taken after the incident reported to have killed him." He gives it a beat to sink in as Shouta sputters. “We’ll be in touch."

Giran ends the call.

Shouta doesn’t tell anyone about the contact, about his role in what happened. His end of the deal was silence. Temporary silence. He’ll confess. To all of it. But he needs time. He needs to know they’re lying. Or worse... that they’re not.

& Giran does contact him again, in person, directly before the students’ summer training camp. Shouta knows exactly what they’re after coming to him now of all times. He doesn’t let Giran get a word in; he’s not giving them any more information, vehemently refusing to hear anything out despite Giran’s silver-tongued talk about his friend, no matter how much it rips him up inside. Lies, they’re all lies. He’ll turn himself in for what he’s done & detail what he’s learned. But no one will lay another hand on his students.

Giran sighs, holds up his hands at Shouta’s glowing eyes & floating capture weapon. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point, Eraser. Sorry to bother you, but don’t shoot the messenger, okay?" Giran breathes a little easier when Shouta blinks, stepping toward the door. "& since I’m such a good little messenger, I can tell you this much: You might want to check up on your students at the mall."

Shouta runs for it. He’s too late. Police cars surround the building by the time he gets there.

The camp location is moved. Everything is top secret.

But it doesn’t change anything. Shouta doesn’t know until the hospital that Giran used that meeting to track his phone.

& now Bakugou has been kidnapped. If anything were to happen to him...

It’s his fault. His lapse in judgment did this, his actions did this, his silence did this.

He calls Giran while his students are in the hospital & one of them is captured. "You took my kid," he growls into the phone. "I’ll rip you apart."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Eraser! I had no part in that. I never get my hands dirty—"

"—Save it for someone who cares. I don’t have time for this. Contact your—your client. I want to make another trade."

Giran is silent on the end for a long minute & then, "I’ll see what I can do."

Giran calls back shortly after, saying they can make an arrangement, "But this one is a little more... slippery than our previous offers. There’s lots of pieces on the board, you must understand. I was told to ask you the following: what do you think you can offer my clients? Just so that both sides can get an understanding of each other."

"Anything," he snarls. “Bakugou is a child; I’m—we’re—not bargaining with his life."

Giran hums, interested. "I’m sure my clients will be interested in hearing that. Shall we arrange a meeting to discuss terms? Say... a few hours? Same place as our last rendezvous?"

& Shouta fully readies himself to give up anything—that’s his kid. They’ll understand, he tells himself. They’ll understand.

But then Momo arrives with that tracker. He’s shaking as he calls to cancel the meeting with Giran, but his voice is steady. He has a conference, he tells him. They’ll have to postpone it until afterward.

Hizashi bursts into the room shortly after he makes the call, worried sick. Hizashi gets him in a tight hug, crushing his soul back into his body as Shouta trembles with what he almost did, with how Momo probably saved him too with that move. Already heroes & they don’t even realize it. Hizashi whispers about how Shouta did everything he could, how it’ll be okay, how they’ll get him back. Hizashi kisses his head, then, & apologizes for being late. He cracks a wry joke about how he’s glad he got here before Shouta could do something stupid.

Shouta buries his head in his husband’s chest. Hizashi’s smile fades. They both know how more truth rings in that statement than Shouta wants to talk about. Hizashi clings to him fiercely. Together, it says. We’ll get through this together.

Of course, then Hizashi announces the obvious to the gathered team of heroes on the case: that there’s a traitor in their midst.

Hizashi kisses the traitor good luck before his press conference.

The events of Kamino Ward unfold, terrifying & devastating in their consequences.

Shouta receives Giran’s call before the dust is even settled. They've lost the Symbol of Peace. The League has vanished. “WELL Eraserhead, that’s what we in the business call a double-crossing."

"Consider it payback for endangering my students."

Giran’s voice is cold, impersonal, empty of its usual snake’s charm, "I think you’ve done that all on your own, Eraser."

Shouta hangs up the phone. This isn't the end of their entanglement & he knows it.

(pt. 9)

[patchies]

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1+k

Author’s Note: Basically, all this chapter contains is scavenging and conversations. I hope you’ll enjoy!

Wattpad link: here

story masterlist - main masterlist

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Chapter 2: Introduction

After you had deemed leaking your information safe, the both of you spoke most of the night away in whispers. With the exception when a rustle was heard from the outside, worried it's another creature ready to attack. That is until you deemed it important to catch wink of sleep.

You're the first to wake up to Nick loudly snoring. One glance at the window lets you know the sun is brightly shining. The rays softly hit your face and you watch as the small particles dance in the gleams of light. There are no curtains in this particular room, proving it to be quite early. Eight in the morning seems to be an adequate time to wake up by your guess.

You look over his resting body and whack Nick in the head, which prompts him to wake up with a jolt. Frantically looking around for the source of his pain until his eyes connect with yours with burning annoyance, “Are you insane?!”

His exclamation is loud. Very loudly in fact, and that prompts you to slap a hand against his mouth to quiet his yells, “Are you insane? We don't know if the creature is still out there or if there are more of them! Have you seen what it looks like and what it can do?”

The whisper is firm and harsh, sure of the fact he hasn't seen it. The image from the night before makes you shiver. It's sinking sharp teeth showing up, which makes you shake your head to get rid of the image. A dead Shadow is certainly not on your to-do list, but you have an inkling it'll eventually come to that if you like it or not. An inevitable decision will have to be made for your survival in this place.

He apologetically looks into my eyes and his puppy eyes cause my hand to lower… Not before delivering a sharp punch to his arm. Nick whines out and clutches his injured arm.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking and to be truthful, you made me yell at you,” he shakes his head at me with a mocking smile. Your face showcases an unidentifiable emotion and that makes Nick nervous.

“I can make you yell more,” you start tauntingly, “after I serve you as a main meal to that Shadow.”

“Stop! Why would you make your friend a meal for the– “he thinks back to what you referred to it as,”– Shadow?”

“Yes, I think it suits the appearance of whatever it is,” you reply back with a slight laugh, “And to answer your question. I'm pretty sure your annoying ass would taste delicious for the creature.”

Your mood has started to increase little by little after having someone at your side who's fighting for the same as you. Hope was lit up in you at the thought of an ally after you had talked through the abyss yesterday. Engrossed in getting to know each other and making your goals clear before you get into any alliance with someone.

Nick just laughs along with you, slapping his knee as if you told a great joke. Yet you didn't. At least it doesn't look that way to you. Sure, you laughed, but it's not that funny, come on…

“So, you think my ass tastes delicious?” He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh,” you devilishly smirk at him, “I'm sure it does, but not to humans.”

• • •

After both of your morning routines that consist barely of any proper hygienic setting, you both deem it important to stretch and even decide to venture outside. You've both settled on finding a new base and spoke about it during the night. Possibly a sturdier and a stronger house that can be easily fortified. First, you'll have to find something like that and then go scavenging for some planks, nails, and food, though. That is if there aren't planks and nails in the newfound house already.

Later, you find yourself wandering around the neighbourhood. You haven't stumbled across any Shadows, yet, which you are extremely thankful for. It seems they just vanish during the day and reappear during the night. It's just a theory of yours, though. Nick was against the idea at first, but after being out for more than an hour, he begrudgingly agreed with you. Finding it useless to argue with you anymore on who's theory is the right one.

You wander around the neighbourhood while chatting about some stupid things.

“Do you think that house would be good?” You point towards a two-story house that looks to be enough for plenty of people. There's still a sign stating, ‘For Sale’.

“Abandoned and looking good?” He happily questions, “Hell yes, we're taking this!”

“Well– you technically cannot take a house just out of blue or at all,” you sigh.

“Shut up! Are you objecting? It's not like we know if there are any other people except for us. We could be stranded here alone,” he states sadly.

The sad look on his face only lasts a couple seconds before he breaks into a big grin and takes you by the hand. Tugging on your joined hands and almost sending you tumbling to the ground face first if it weren't for you catching your stability in time. You're seriously surprised by his strength when he's happy for something. You just shake your head at that and start to follow him willingly. Though, you're still on high alert for any possible dangers. Nick doesn't show any reluctance to going straight to the house, so at least one person must stay on guard.

As your feet carry you across the chalky pavement with ease you wonder what happened to this world. The buildings don't look to be in the best shape and the streets are presumably swarmed with Shadows at night. Some lampposts look to be broken and rusty, flowers envelop them in a conspicuous design and lie on the ground, while the rest don't even seem to be working anymore. At least not on this avenue. The grass and flowers overgrow the buildings and concrete. Nature visibly winning against human inventions.  Houses are sprayed with different slogans that you presume were left behind by people that are long deceased. The most appealing and provoking to you is, ‘Blood for the Blood God’ and ‘We have some unfinished business, green boy. I hope you're ready’.

Who left them here and what do they exactly mean? There are a few ideas of their meaning swarming your head, but you know better than anything to presume certain things. Some are better to not be answered at all either way. Are the people who made them still alive or long gone? Do they turn into Shadows? What are Shadows even made of and how can you kill them? Can you kill them?

I unfortunately can't answer you, Reader. You'll understand later. Or will you be left with no clue up until the end?

You're already through the doorway when your thoughts fade to dust. Nick has decided to wander off on his own and search the house for any possible materials or food and water, so you set to do the same. It honestly isn't as huge as you thought it would be. Nevertheless, there's still enough for the both of you.

You roam the lower floor while Nick makes sure to scavenge the upper. Therefore, you scout the living room first. There, you can see ruined wine cabinets, a completely scratched sofa, a dismantled bookshelf, shattered vases, broken chairs, and side tables. The mess is accompanied by pieces of glass and clay. You thank the stars for wearing shoes. Your feet would've been pierced by so many sharp shards if it weren't for them and you don't think you'd even have enough medical supplies to assist your wounds. Not like you'd voluntarily step on them, but having this cluster of broken glass right here can prove disadvantageous in the future.

The planks from the wine cabinets and bookshelf can be used for boarding up the windows. Thankfully, those look to be still intact. You can't use the sofa for sleeping, therefore the only usage is barricading the door. If you can even move it all the way to the front door. The chairs' legs can serve as temporary weapon parts along with the glass if you're successful in finding tape. If not, attaching some nails to them with a plank should suffice.

After you make sure you've searched everything, every nook and cranny of the living room, you walk to the kitchen to find a relatively clean place. From the looks of it, you're pretty sure the stove isn't working. The cabinets hanging off of the wall contain some stale chips and chocolate and that fact presses you to leave it as a last resort. You move onto the lower cabinets, only to come face to face with no food, but they hold some remains of tape and scissors. Nothing edible or drinkable. You then try turning the faucet on, but no water comes out. A disappointed sigh leaves you and you move onto checking the last place: the bathroom.

Upon closer inspection, you're able to deduce there's just bunch of pills way past the expiration date and you can't even tell what type of pills they are since the packaging and label is gone. The toilet and shower are meaningless. Well– not completely. You can still use the toilet to satisfy your needs. It doesn't sound appealing, but it'll have to do if anything.

“What have you found?”

That question causes you to slam your head against the cabinet under the sink you've been rummaging through and you have to take a second to recollect your thoughts and rub the pain away. You send Nick a glare, to which he just replies with a wink. Closing the doors, you stand up and adjust your clothes.

“I've found some planks, chair legs, nails, glass and clay. The sofa is unfortunately fruitless for sleeping, but we can still use it for barricading the front door. I can explain the usages of the former to you later,” you both exit the bathroom, but you continue with your dialogue, “I also spotted some pills, which are out of expiration, so I would be against swallowing any of them. They might not hurt you, but they might as well be like swallowing a pill with no effect. There's some chips and chocolate. Both stale, so our last resort. Water doesn't work either. What have you found up there?”

“I haven't found much,” he scratches his head, eyeing the brown satchel hanging at his side. You throw him a suspicious look about the accessory hanging at his hip, but don't mention it in hopes he'll enclose more information regarding it.

“I gave you a full report of what we have in inventory and you give me just one sentence that contains no information whatsoever?” you shake your head in disbelief, turning the corner and stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“No! I was getting ready to tell you everything,” Nick argues with you, but you won't let him slip so easily. A teasing gleam shining in your eyes that he doesn't like in the slightest.

“Oh, yeah? I hear no words coming from your mouth, except for bullshit.”

“Let me speak, for fuck's sake,” he grumbles, which you just reply with a wave of your hand, “We have a pretty soft bed up there that has enough space for the both of us, but if you're not comfortable being in one bed I can always take the floor. Courtesy and all that crap, but I wouldn't be against sharing the bed with you. Anyways, there are plenty of planks from demolished furniture, small number of nails and a hammer. I also found some arrows, but there is no bow, so we can just use them for stabbing people's eyeballs.”

You hop up onto the kitchen island, kicking your feet in boredom. Quietly apologising when you kick his thigh by accident from the proximity, “And you told me you haven't found much… Anything else worth mentioning?”

“No. There isn't anything important on the second floor that I'm aware of. Save for the stuff I already told you about.”

“If I discover something valuable, I'll use those arrows to stab your eyeballs. Mark my words, mister.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes me, and you reach over to flick him in the forehead.

“So, can we agree on using this house as our safe place and base?”

“For sure,” he rolls his eyes at the seemingly stupid question. “Do we have any other choice?”

Though, what you aren't aware of, there's a hooded figure spying on your progress and conversation from across your building. A crossbow on their back, loaded with a poisoned arrow. They hold an uncertain smile, wonder and worry flashing through their eyes at the same time. Though, their expression turns stoic afterwards, quietly slipping further into the dark night.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Galaxy Princess - 1/3

Characters → Y/N & Peter Quill, Mentions of other Marvel characters.

Summary → After the birth of superheroes, several alien attacks and the blip, you were pretty much ready for anything. That was until you met Peter Quill. He burst into your life at lightning speed and nothing could have prepared you for the way he turned your world upside down.

Word Count → 3k

Warnings → Swearing, later warnings; 18+ Smut, Fluff.

Series Taglist → OPEN - send an ask.

Beta → @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Should have posted this at half 7 but everything seemed to go wrong BUT it’s here now... This is for @crushedbyhyperbole - I am so sorry that this is months late to your challenge! [Prompt: To the moon and back - in Part 3]. And I actually have a schedule for the release for this 3-parter… This is GOTG Vol1&2 Peter Quill set in a post-Endgame world.

Return to: Series List // Marvel List

That Friday feeling was in the spring of Y/N’s step, and how she threw off her stuffy office clothes and traded them for baggy top and sweatpants. It was in the way she put on her favourite playlist, shimmied a pizza in the oven and how she shut the fridge with a pop of her hip. She twirled around the kitchen in between sips of beer, lifting her spirits higher and higher. 

At the sound of the oven alarm beeping, she plated up the pizza, walked through her apartment, and flopped a blanket over her shoulder in preparation for her Friday night tradition. It had been a hard week at work, and she couldn’t wait to unwind in one of her favourite spots.  

She climbed out of the lounge window onto the fire escape, ascending the steps carefully as to not drop her pizza and beer. 

“Careful out there, Y/N,” Stan, her neighbour, said. 

She paused at the window ledge and grinned back at the elderly gentleman sitting in his armchair. He looked over the top of his glasses with a fond smile. 

“I’m always careful Stan,” She winked and carried on with her climb. 

On the rooftop, overlooking the countryside in the distance, Y/N could relax and get away from work. She’d been a temporary administrator at a financial company for six months, but she didn’t seem to fit in with any of her colleagues. She soon discovered that she was often talked about because she was different. ‘Different’ meant Y/N didn't join them for the weekly drinks at the local bar or partake in office gossip. None of it was her thing and, to them, that made her ‘weird.’  

On many occasions, Y/N had overheard them guessing about her private life and it took its toll after hearing the same repetitive comments; she never talks about her family. Or friends for that matter. She needs to get laid. She's a bit of a freak. Too wrapped up in all that alien abduction and sci-fi nonsense.  

And that’s how being on the rooftop, with pizza and a couple of beers, became a weekly tradition and a place of solitude. Unwinding with music and the starry sky above, Y/N could pretend the world below didn’t exist. 

The mellow music drowned out the noise from the street below as she stretched out on the sun lounger. A contented sigh left her mouth as the blanket enveloped her in comfort and the warmth seeped into her bones.  

The sun setting over the woodland in the distance was the perfect backdrop for her to relax as she munched on the pizza. Y/N adored the way the peach glow filled the skyline and silhouetted the trees against the horizon. 

The greasy delight helped to soothe her but couldn’t quiet all the gossip she’d heard about herself that week. Especially the remarks about her sex life. They had no idea if there was any truth to their assumptions, but no amount of beer or delicious food could drown the thought completely. 

Over the last couple of years, Y/N had pretended that she was happy. That she was content with being on her own but deep down she had given up. Her inability to navigate the dating scene successfully was not something she was proud of but then again, she’d had too many awful and lame experiences to count. 

She was a moon without an orbit, drifting in an endlessly dark sky. It was as if everyone else had been given access to this world of love and relationships and she was left alone. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt wanted or needed and it tugged at her chest. 

Her wall of denial had crumbled, and the hot tears slid down her cheeks. She’d been lonely, had been for a while, but when other people noticed, it stung more than she liked. 

The bright sky faded to navy, the stars flickering on in anticipation of lighting the night sky. Y/N longed for whatever was beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, up where those stars sparkled even brighter.  

Y/N had always dreamed of being somewhere else. She felt as if she didn’t belong here that she was destined for more than a mundane office job and daydreaming of the world beyond the solar system. One day, somehow, she knew she’d fly away from this place and find somewhere that she belonged. 

A bright flash streaked across the sky, a shooting star. Y/N grinned, shuffling to the edge of her seat, ready to make her wish. Until she realised the light was getting bigger. Her eyes widened as she watched the flaming ball crash into the woodland in the distance.  

Y/N scrambled to her feet; the blanket was forgotten until she fell to the ground. Knees scraping against the concrete. The tangled fabric was pushed away, and she gingerly rolled up her sweatpants; luckily, it was only a scrape, nothing to worry about. 

She jumped up, grabbed her phone, and rushed down the fire escape. Once inside, she slid on her fluffy socks along the hardwood floor then hopped around to put her sneakers on while trying to grab her backpack. Luckily, she made it out without an accident. 

Minutes later she was navigating the roads to the woodlands, her body hummed with adrenaline and her mind raced with wonder; what was it? A meteor? A spaceship? Aliens? Oh shit. What if it weren’t friendly? What if the Avengers showed up? She wasn’t sure she cared as she swerved the car off the road and into the empty parking lot, kicking up gravel and dust. This was an opportunity she wouldn’t let pass her by.  

Y/N eagerly dived out of the car, made sure her sneakers were laced and her phone was in her pocket and jogged up the main path to the woodland. Before long, her clammy skin began sticking to her cardigan. She pulled it off and wrapped it around her waist. Her eagerness to get to the crash site and all the possibilities of what it could be, she hadn’t realised how far off the beaten path she was. 

The moon was her only source of light, but the towering trees made it seem as if it were playing hide and seek on the ground. She put on her phone’s flashlight, her heart racing as she stumbled along the less maintained route. 

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as the flashlight remained trained on the ground. Nerves bubbled in her stomach and her legs began to shake as she neared the potential landing site.  

A faint orange glow flickered against the tree trunks, the air thick and sticky with fumes. Y/N picked up her pace, approaching the smoke that billowed from the wreckage and the flames licking at the grass. Light and ash that spit out from the chewed-up metal.  

She raised her arm, shielding her eyes from the bright glare so she could access the wreckage. It wasn’t any kind of spaceship she’d seen before. It didn’t look like the ones from the attack on New York or reported after The Blip. It was small, could fit one adult at most. 

A groan rang out nearby and she whipped around to see a man, a human man, fall to the floor a few meters away. In a flash, she landed on her knees, pain shooting through the already damaged skin, and rolled the person over, pulling at the red leather jacket.  

Y/N placed her cheek near their face and relaxed when she felt their light breath caressing her skin. Her fear subsided, and she was finally able to look at the man, her heart fluttered at his rugged look; the stubble scattered across his jawline, a gash across his cheek and his fluffy dirty blond hair.  

The crackle of the flames and the metal whining behind caught her attention again. She hauled him away from the ship, afraid they were in danger of being burnt. After a few tugs, she fell backwards onto her bottom. Another groan came from the man below her and she hoped she hadn’t hurt him. She looked down at the handsome spaceman, his head rising from her lap with a deep frown and eyes scrunching with confusion. 

“Hi,” Y/N spoke softly, hoping not to alarm him. 

He shuffled slightly, trying to turn and brace his hand on the ground but gripped her thigh. She watched the realisation dawn on his face, he looked up at her and back down between her legs, a huge grin across his face, “Well this isn’t a first.” 

Y/N shoved him backwards and scrambled away. 

He planted his arms to avoid face planting the ground and turned to the wreckage. “What the hell- Oh man, look at this,” He jumped to his feet and began inspecting and discarding chunks of metal and wires. “No, no, no!” 

Y/N was frozen to the spot, her thoughts blank as she watched the man dash around the wreckage, throwing items over his shoulder in obvious frustration.  

After a moment, she stood up and raised her arms in defence. “Maybe you should sit down, you did just crash landed.” 

“I need to get back to my ship.”  

He may have looked human, but if he had a spaceship, he clearly wasn’t. Oh shit, I’m talking to an alien.  

“I can help,” she stuttered before clearing her throat, willing herself to not sound so defenceless or unsure. “But please don’t hurt me,” She pleaded. 

He stopped mid-throw, the mangled metal hovering over his shoulder, and twisted on the balls of his feet to look at her. His piercing blue eyes alert, an exaggerated gape in his mouth before he spoke, “I’m not going to hurt you, you turd blossom.” 

Y/N blinked at his insult, uncertain how to process being called a turd blossom. He walked towards her and she stepped backwards as he grew closer until her back was against a tree. He rested his arm above her head, leaning against the trunk, a cheeky grin forming on his face. 

“So, I’m a little stuck and need a little help with contacting my ship.” 

Y/N shoved him away, “Your smoldering isn’t going to work on me.” 

“Smoldering?! I was not smoldering.” He stuttered and held up a mangled item that looked like a walkie talkie. “Do you have anything that can help fix this or a way I can contact my ship so I can get off this crappy planet?” 

Y/N paced back and forth, she wasn’t sure what to say or do, her mouth opened and closed. Of course, she had a radio back at her apartment, but she wasn't going to let a stranger into her home. Y/N knew it was crazy, but she had to help him. She spun around and pointed at him, he looked from side to side as if looking for someone else. 

“Yes, you! I will take you somewhere that has a radio. But no funny business.”  

He crossed his heart, dramatically and she rolled her eyes. “Follow me.” She spun on her heels, “Are you coming or - what’s your name?” 

He jogged up to Y/N’s side and matched her speed, “Starlord.” 

She paused, mid-step, chuckling, “Is that your name?” 

“Yes! I’m a famous outlaw.” His brows furrowed and his jaw set. 

“A famous outlaw that calls people turd blossoms,” she chuckled, “what are you wanted for, crappy insults?” 

He scoffed and from the corner of her eye she noticed him smirk though he sounded offended, “a whole list of things that if you knew about, you’d be shocked.” 

“Got it, you're a real bad guy, Starlord.” 

This time he really was offended, “do you have a better name?”   

She snickered and couldn’t help herself, “Galaxy Princess.”  

He laughed loudly up at the sky, “I like you Galaxy Princess,” he admitted.  

She dropped her head to watch her feet and tried to stifle the happy grin that wanted to break out on her face. 

One short car journey filled with awkward silence later, they were in Y/N’s apartment, and inside the box room. A desk and computer on one side, the opposite wall filled with pictures, newspaper clippings and maps of Earth and the solar system. Embarrassment tingled on Y/N’s cheeks as she began to clear the mess of takeout containers and used coffee cups that were on her desk. 

The radio unit was pulled forward and she passed the mouthpiece to him. Noting how dazed he was by all the assorted items in the room, picking them up and inspecting them as he’d never seen a tablet or Bluetooth speaker before. Then she remembered, alien. His technology was far more advanced. 

“Here, if your spaceship is in our atmosphere it should pick up this signal.” Y/N flicked at the switches and turned the dials; white noise unleashed into the room until it went almost silent apart from a faint buzz. 

Starlord stared at the equipment and muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe that I actually wish Rocket was here.” 

Y/N ignored the comment, he hadn’t wanted her to hear what he’d said, “Do you know what frequency your ship uses or anything that would help connect to the comms unit?” 

“Of course, I know what frequency my ship uses.” He stepped around her and started to fiddle with the dials, white noise filling the room once more. He winked and gave her a lopsided grin, like the one earlier when his face was in her lap. “It’s my ship. I know the frequency. Yep.” 

To save Starlord the embarrassment of having no clue, Y/N turned her focus to the broken device he had brought with him. Metal scratched, wires exposed and broken. With enough technical knowledge, she realised it was more of a transmitter than a radio. 

“I think I might be able to fix this, but I don’t have anything that resembles these parts.” Y/N didn’t realise he was right behind her and bumped into him with a surprised yelp. 

“Woah there!” He steadied her with his hands on her arms, “Didn’t mean to make you jump,” he said as she turned to face him. She felt the blush spread over her cheeks and he smiled, “Unless you did that on purpose. Considering you like my smoldering,” he winked.  

“I didn’t say I liked your smoldering, I said it wouldn’t work on me.”   

Y/N hoped that he didn’t have superpowers otherwise he’d hear the pounding of her heart but what unnerved her more than his proximity, was that she couldn’t work out if she was scared or captivated. It was definitely the latter. His thumbs rubbed softly and sparked a shiver. Her thoughts caught back up to her and she led them into the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit off the shelf. 

“So how did you end up in an escape pod?” She asked, moving into the lounge. 

“Ha. I don’t think you’ve got time for the long story,” he said as she perched on the couch. “So, I’ll give you the short version.” He joined her and reclined back into the cushions. 

“I’m happy with either,” Y/N offered, turning to face him, with an acute awareness of her knee brushing against his thigh. “May I?” 

Starlord glanced down, noticing their closeness and her fiddling with the box. His chest inflated, proud and a smug smile; he was eager to let her tend to his wounds and talk of his heroism and escape from evil.  

He cleared his throat before sinking further into the couch, “I’m more than willing to oblige a beautiful woman with my stories, sweetheart.”  

Y/N snorted and began to clean the gash on his cheek while he explained how his crew’s mission hadn’t gone to plan. It was supposed to be simple; get on the spaceship and pick up the wanted person then to collect the bounty. Y/N watched him tell the story in between winces of the antiseptic wipe; the way his eyes lit up as he retold the plan and mentioned his companions; Rocket and Groot.  

She wanted to know more but she was distracted by his animated expressions. Gosh, he’s handsome, Y/N blushed at her thoughts, “will you stop moving. I can’t fix this if you don’t hold still.” 

Y/N was grateful for him not seeing the embarrassment and refrained from moving erratically so she could apply the butterfly stitches. He continued with how he hadn’t expected the spaceship to have a bunch of Kree and Sakaarans on board. She bounced in her seat, the excitement taking over at the mention of the alien races. 

Starlord chuckled at her enthusiasm, “I’ll tell you more about them bastards later. The escape pod was my only option, but it malfunctioned after it took several hits from the attack shuttles.” 

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, in fear and amazement that he’d managed to land it somewhat safely and without extensive injury. She felt shy under Starlord’s scrutiny and the way he was likely to judge the brightness in her eyes, the intrigue she had for life beyond earth. 

“Now I’m stranded on Earth and have no way of communicating with my crew back on the Milano.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Luckily I had a beautiful woman come to my rescue.” 

Y/N pretended not to hear those words as the weight of the night’s events hit her suddenly and she tried to stifle the yawn, “Sorry, can we have a look at this in the morning?” 

“Sure.” His bright smile dropped a fraction, he recovered it but not in time for her to miss. 

Spare bedding was placed on the sofa and Y/N directed him around the apartment, “The shower is just down the hall. If you can’t sleep, here’s the tv remote and help yourself to food.” 

“Thank you, Princess.” 

“Goodnight, Starlord.” 

“It’s Peter.” His cheeky smile had faded to something softer. 

“Y/N. Goodnight Peter.”  

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He laid down and continued to wave until she shut the bedroom door. 

Y/N was too tired to process that she was leaving a stranger on his own, in her home. There was an odd comfort from his determination to get back to his ship and crew; the place he belonged.

To Be Continued...

Everything Taglist:  @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie / @kitkatd7

Marvel Taglist:  @natasha-danvers / @musesforart​

Series Taglist: @justagirlinafandomworld

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: Little Love Bite

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~1.4k Rating: T with implied off-screen M activities Time Frame: First year of college? Maybe second? Dunno yet Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: I was actually in the middle of writing a YohaRiko scene, but I opened the wrong file, saw one of the titles I’d planned for TA and ended up writing this for it.

Also, I realize I may not make it all that clear within the scene itself, but the trio is currently living in neighboring dorm rooms. Ayumu’s is in the middle and the three spend the bulk of their time there.

Setsuna opened her eyes and was immediately aware of something being different from when she had closed them. Specifically, it was not as warm on one side of her. Then, movement on that side of the mattress caught her attention.

“Ayumu-san?”

“Oh, sorry, Setsuna-chan” the redhead apologized, turning from where she had just stood up from the bed “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fi…” The raven-haired girl was interrupted by a yawn. She glanced over at the clock. “I should be getting up anyway so I can get ready for class.” She was about to follow Ayumu when she found herself stopped by an arm draped across her waist.

Yuu murmured something unintelligible from Setsuna’s other side before tightening her embrace. Setsuna looked up at to see a smiling Ayumu failing to hold back a giggle.

“Here, let me help you with her.” Ayumu leaned down and started gently removing Yuu’s arm. “You two are so clingy when you sleep.”

It took a moment before the words registered in Setsuna’s mind. “Two? Both of us?”

Ayumu giggled again. “Yup. It’s quite endearing. There, you should be good now.”

Setsuna shoved down her embarrassment before ducking under the standing girl’s arm and crawling to the side of the bed. “Thank you.” She said standing up and turning toward the other girl. “Ayu…?” She was cut off as fingers alighted upon her cheek to guide her into a kiss.

“Good morning, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu said with a smile as she pulled away.

“G-Good mo-morning, Ayumu-san…” Setsuna stumbled through her reply. She wasn’t quite used to this new morning routine, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Anything in particular you want for breakfast?”

“I’m sure whatever you make will be fine, as always. Do I have enough time to head downstairs and hop on an elliptical for a bit?”

“I’ll probably be ready in about a half hour, is that enough?”

Setsuna nodded. “That should be fine.” She headed for the door. “See you two in a bit.”

Setsuna walked the few meters down the hall to her own room. Once inside, she removed her sleepwear and folded the garments neatly to wear them again later. Next, she made her way to her dresser to retrieve her workout clothes. However, in doing so, something in the mirror caught her eye.

What the heck?

She stared in disbelief for a few moments, feelings of embarrassment rising. She turned and was about to march back to Ayumu’s room before remembering her state of undress. With even more awkward emotions, she hastily donned a different outfit than she had intended and exited her room.

“Ayumu-san!” Setsuna said as soon as she opened the door.

Ayumu jumped a bit at the unexpected entry but turned away from her food preparations with a smile anyway. “You’re back already?” She inquired.

“What is this?” Setsuna fired back, pulling her collar aside to reveal a purple mark near the base of her neck. “And this?” She pulled farther to show a red one on her clavicle.

“Oh, uhm… looks like a hickey and… a bite mark.” Ayumu replied as pink began to dust her cheeks.

“I know what they are.” Setsuna shook her head in frustration. “But… why?”

“She didn’t leave those.” A voice said from beside the two girls.

“Kyaa!” Ayumu and Setsuna cried in unison, not having expected the other occupant in the room to be awake yet.

Yuu laughed at her girlfriends’ reactions. “Anyway, as I was saying, those are mine, Setsuna-chan. Ayumu’s are a bit lower…” She started to reach out as though to indicate the mentioned location.

“Yuu-chan!” Ayumu protested while Setsuna gently pushed the hand away.

“What? You both tagged me a couple times too.” The green-tipped girl pulled up the hem of her sleepshirt up to prove her point. “This one’s actually a bit tender.” She poked at one and giggled before pulling her shirt back down. “And Ayumu, you will probably find a few as well, though probably not as many as Setsuna-chan.” She grinned. “We may have gone a bit overboard last night… Sorry.” She didn’t look or sound anywhere near apologetic.

Setsuna wished the heat would dissipate from her face as a few scenes replayed in her mind. “Well… uhm… I guess maybe it’s fine since I don’t have a photoshoot today. But…”

“I can help you hide them with makeup if you want.” Ayumu offered.

“Thanks, I think I’ll be fine today if I wear the right outfit. It’s next week I’m worried about…”

“And I can look up how to treat them if you want.” Yuu also offered before leaning in for a closer inspection. “Though I think ones like those should only last a few days.”

“Alright.” Setsuna nodded.

“But I don’t really see the big deal.” Yuu shrugged as she stood back up. “I mean, I get the photoshoot next week, but other than that, why bother hiding them?”

“Because they’re embarrassing.” Ayumu tried to explain.

“They are? I figured they’re like a testament to how much we missed seeing each other while Setsuna was out on tour over the weekend. Anyway, I can feel the ones on my waist, but do I have any on my neck?” She pulled at her collar so the other two could see. “If I remember correctly, there might be one from Setsuna-chan around here.” She circled a general area. “And at least two from Ayumu around here.”

“Yes, they’re all there.” Setsuna confirmed.

Yuu chuckled. “Great. That’s awesome.”

Ayumu blinked. “Awesome? Are you… really not going to hide them, Yuu-chan?”

“I dunno, maybe. I mean everyone already knows we’re dating.”

“Yes, but that’s why they’re embarrassing.”

“Hrm…”

If Setsuna was being honest, she was starting to understand a little bit where Yuu was coming from. Her own initial embarrassment was fading and if the marks healed or could be covered when needed, there were no other major reasons to worry about them, right? So in the meantime, would it be all that wrong to wear them as tiny, temporary trophies of her girlfriends’ feelings for her?

“Alright,” Yuu said after a moment “I won’t run around campus in a swimsuit, showing them off to everyone. I do still see them as mementos of your feelings, but I guess I can just enjoy them as much in private. I think I brought some higher collared shirts with me here, so I’ll look for one of those in a bit. But you know we do have our first game session this weekend and I can’t say I see a reason to hide them from our friends.”

“Ai-chan will probably tease us…” Ayumu sighed.

Yuu chuckled. “Yeah, but Ai-chan likes to tease those close to her. And besides, I’m pretty sure I tease you two more than she does.”

“Yeah, you do…”

“And it’s your fault for being so cute with your reactions.”

As expected, Ayumu pouted adorably which earned a broad smile from Yuu. Setsuna couldn’t help a smile of her own as she watched the same routine play out as it always did.

“So, we’re good then?” Yuu asked. It was something she had been doing more recently since the trio had started dating, apparently not wanting to continue assuming as she had before.

Ayumu nodded.

“Yeah.” Setsuna agreed. “Sorry if I seemed upset with you, Ayumu-san.”

Ayumu shook her head. “It’s alright, I was embarrassed as well; still am a little.”

“Because you left more marks than Setsuna-chan and I combined?” Yuu asked.

“Yuu-chan…”

“Anyway, I’m going to head downstairs now.” Setsuna decided before turning.

“See you in a bit, Setsuna-chan.” Yuu replied. “Ne, Ayumu, want help with breakfast?”

“Hmm…” Ayumu considered. “If we finish too quickly, Setsuna-chan won’t have enough time to get in her morning workout. Why don’t you take dinner tonight?”

“Alright.” Yuu agreed. “Setsuan-chan, mind if I join you instead?”

“Sure,” Setsuna paused by the door “though you may want to wear something different.”

“Right, give me one sec.” Yuu quickly pulled off her pajama top as she searched for a different outfit. “Oops, looks like you two missed a spot.” She pointed to her belly. “Guess you’ll have to make up for that tonight.”

“We can’t add anymore, Yuu-chan.” Ayumu said from where she was resuming her food preparations. “Setsuna-chan has a photoshoot soon.”

“Well then we’ll just have to make up for it after.” Yuu finished dressing and jaunted over.

Setsuna was fairly sure the shorts Yuu was wearing were actually Ayumu’s, but the redhead wasn’t complaining, so there was no need for her to bring it up.

“Maybe. We’ll see.” Setsuna offered a wink and smile as she and Yuu headed into the hallway.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[scarletfish]

don’t worry, you will

Summary: Two weeks ago, Juno was engaged. Now he's quarantined with a complete stranger who can't operate a microwave and has no sense of personal space.  And they were quarantined (oh my god, they were quarantined!)

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, background Vespa/Buddy in future chapters Word Count: 3000 Chapters: 1/5 Warnings: canon-typical alcohol abuse, depression AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016468/chapters/57779629

A/N: Thanks @space-city-traffic for the prompt, and @pipis-pods for the suggestion that Juno and Vespa communicate and become friends 

Chapter 1

Diamond paid you $1520 . Your Venmo balance is now $1520.  

Fiancee. Rent. They’re the first and last things on Juno’s mind. He realizes he’s been sitting in the parking garage for over ten minutes, idling and staring at the alert on his cracked phone screen. He turns the car off.

His car with a long crack in the windshield. Everything is goddamn broken. He gets out of the car, pauses. Gets back in the car.

This calls for a detour.

***

Twenty minutes later, Juno is ready to take his newly acquired liquor to his room so he can introduce it to his newly acquired headache, but he still has one more stop to make.

Hyperion Apartment Complex twists eight stories high, and the tacky light grey brick facade is almost reflective at night. Semi-nice rooms in a mostly bad part of town. Hyperion city makes cheap look beautiful, the way fast-food commercials brush up plastic meat with shoe polish and glue. Diamond had always hated it.

Juno shoulders into the leasing office with two large grocery bags. The front desk is empty, and everything is fading or peeling. He rings the bell and sits on a peely, faded chair to wait. Might as well put the whisky to good use.

Taking a swig, he looks out the floor-length windows to the filmy outdoor pool. (Rita swears security fished a body out of it a couple years ago. Juno told her she needs to stop watching so much Law and Order.) For the hundredth time, he wonders if this is even worth it. She's going to ask questions, it's inevitable, and he doesn't know how to answer them. Doesn't know the answers himself.

He starts poking holes in the plastic grocery bags with his thumbnail. Takes another swig. Then a couple more-

“Boss!” Rita bobs into view with her tablet in hand, Cheeto dust on her bright purple jacket.

Since the police force scandal, Juno runs a small PI business from a shitty downtown office, which is where he met Rita. To this day Juno’s not sure how or when she wormed her way into a position he wasn't even offering. He’s also not sure when she sleeps. As far as he knows, the part time leasing office representative is her third job- she also does... something with computers.

“Rita,” swig, “I need a favor.” The shorter woman has already started talking, anticipating their usual back and forth.

“And I know I ain’t supposed to call you that here, but you are my boss, and I don’t think my other bosses-- wait, huh?” Confused by the change in script, Rita eyes the half-empty bottle of whisky in Juno’s hand. Her eyes jump to the clock.

“Mista Steel, are you okay?” One pro of hiring Rita: she’s very perceptive. Con of hiring Rita: way too perceptive.

“Fine. I need you to check someone out for me.” Rita’s eyes immediately light up.

“Oooooh, boss, another case already? Is it gonna be as exciting as the one with Mista Prince Julian? Are we gonna get to travel? I’ve always wanted to go somewhere exotic, like Maine, or Florida-” Juno cuts her off before she can get going.

“He was a dramatic politician with a cheating husband who ended up dead, Rita. Not everything is a Netflix rom-com.”

There's a bitterness in his tone that might not have been there a week ago, but the smaller woman doesn't notice. She's already sunk into her desk chair, head propped in both hands, sighing dreamily as she swivels back and forth. Time to bring out the big guns.

Juno reaches into his shopping bag and pulls out the chips, dangling them in front of Rita’s heart eyes. She snatches. He raises them just out of reach.

“Focus. It’s not a case. There’s this guy I need you to find. I’ve got name and place of employment. Can you do it or not?”

Rita pouts. “But boss,” she whines, “you don’t even need me for that, you can just Google his name like I showed you. I thought we were gonna do something exciting.” Juno pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, well, Google isn’t gonna cut it this time, because,” I wasn’t really paying attention when you showed me that, “because, he’s highly secretive. And, that’s potential name. And potential place of employment, my source isn’t very,” he almost chokes on this last word, “reliable .”

The gears start turning. “Secretive… hang on Boss, is this another high-profiler? Have you been holding out on me?” She lowers her voice (not much). “Boss, this is about a case, right, you just can’t tell me because they might have tapped the phones!?”

What… who does she think they are? Juno drops his head into his hands to rub his temples. When Juno doesn't immediately contradict her, Rita continues in her stage whisper.

“Don’t worry Boss, Rita’s got your back! I’ll have this secretive criminal tracked down before they even know we’re on their case!”

“It’s not a case.”

“I’ll be as quiet as… as those monsters in The Quiet Place! Except they ain’t so quiet when they’re attacking people, but neither are we when we’ve got the bad guys cornered and we’re ready to take them out-”

Besides the recent political debacle with Julian and his missing husband (that one was a high-paying scrap tossed Juno’s way by an old friend), most of the cases he’s hired for are affair investigations and insurance fraud.

He’s certain neither he nor Rita have “taken anyone out” ever ... unless you count that time he tried to teach Rita to drive stick shift. Or the Hot Tub Debacle. But those were accidents.

Juno slings the bag of snacks onto her desk. “Just find out whatever you can about the guy, okay?”

“Fresh shrimp flavored?” Rita squeals, “Aw, you’re the best Mista Steel!” She digs into the large bag and talks around a mouthful of orange crumbs while Juno tries not to vomit in his mouth.

“Shipping ish ‘aking fore’er wi’ this crathy thirus thing goin’ gon,” she swallows, “speaking of, have you been watching the news Boss?”

“Every morning with my sunrise yoga. Listen Rita, I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?” Juno’s limbs are… heavy, suddenly. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s because he hasn’t slept well in that last, oh, ten years... or maybe it’s the weight of that single text, sitting in his phone for almost a week now. Looking at Rita, he thinks of telling her everything. Just spilling his guts right onto the scuffed linoleum floor.

The engagement. The text. The Craigslist ad. The man he’s supposed to be meeting tomorrow.

Rita’s still chattering on, and her voice cuts through the haze. “-but you never told me the name of Mister Criminal?” She happily shoves another handful of chips in her mouth. “Oooo, or is it so secret you need to write it down on a piece of paper and then I can read it and eat the paper-”

“Peter Ransom. Might’ve done a job for Vallas Vicky’s hotel recently.” That’s all he knows. “And he’s not a criminal Rita, he’s just a normal guy.”

Rita’s dialogue wanders around to closing borders and something about Italy, but Juno’s already moving towards the door (it shuts a bit harder than he intended). He doesn't know why he's so upset with Rita, when all she's done is try to cheer him up and offered her help. He makes his way back to the parking garage elevator. It smells like cotton candy vape and something vaguely mossy. A group of ragged kids is flying down the incline around the corner on penny boards.

Juno takes another swig of whiskey in front of the chrome doors and jams the elevator button about twenty times before he remembers.

Of course the fucking elevator is down for the weekend.

He wants to sit at the bottom of the stairwell and drink himself into oblivion. He want to wallow in this feeling for a moment, the feeling of the universe kicking him while he’s down.

Instead, he drags himself to the stairwell, drudges down the second floor hall, and practically collapses through the door.

An eager chittering greets him from the cage in the living room. “Hey, Smallfry.”

Diamond wouldn’t go near the ball of fluff (“It’s so dirty Juno,”) so when they moved in together eight months ago, the rabbit was a launching point for multiple arguments. Juno drops his grocery bag of Timothy hay and carrots by the cage, not bothering to stash it in the kitchen.

He pointedly doesn’t look in the smaller second bedroom that Diamond claimed as an office space. He doesn’t look at their shared bed either, because the sight of the rumpled sheets will just wrap around his ribcage and squeeze and squeeze until he can’t breathe again and everything is spinning-

Juno takes another swig and collapses on the couch. And then, because he wants to hate himself a bit, he thumbs through his phone to his fiancee’s most recent text. No matter how often Juno reads it, it never changes.

3:56AM: Diamond

Juno. I’ll forward my part of two month’s rent before the month is over. That should be long enough for you to find a temporary roommate, at least until the lease expires at the end of the year. Do what you’d like with the furniture.

Ex-fiancee.

***

Juno bolts upright, disoriented and confused. The decorative couch pillows left lines on his cheek, and he’s nursing the beginning of a monster headache. He gropes around for his phone. 7PM. It’s only been a few hours.

It feels like days. Months. Years.

Juno shivers. He left the door to the porch open, and a cool fall breeze is raising goosebumps on his arm. A nearby screen door slams, and heavy boots tread the balcony next door. “Hey piss-bucket, you been day drinking again?”

The green-haired nuisance next door is only loud when she chooses to be, so Juno knows she's hoping to stir him out for a cigarette or two. He wonders briefly when Buddy will be back. Vespa only gets this chatty when her partner is gone for long periods of time on work trips.

He toys with the idea of stepping out. Hey Vespa. How're the axe-throwing students? (She refuses to tell him what she does for work, so Juno assigns her a new job every night.)

She’ll respond with something like, Great. If your failed PI business finally tanks, we could always use some new targets.

Maybe if Juno gets drunk enough, he’ll tell her why he’s not planning on ever being sober again. Tell her that he’s such a fucked up human, his fiancee ghosted him three weeks before the wedding with no forwarding address. Over text.

She’ll have to laugh at that. It’s the goddamn joke of the century, and Juno’s the punchline.

He jumps violently when his phone starts ringing. “I know you can hear me, Steel,” Vespa sneers from her balcony.

Juno groans at the name lighting up his screen. He was wrong- he’s not the punchline. Fucking Mick Mercury is.

He almost sends it to voicemail, but at the last second he crosses to the balcony door, wrestles the screen closed as Vespa flips him off (“What, too busy getting wasted alone?”) and finally slides the door shut with a bang.

He leans against the wall by Smallfry’s cage.

“Whaddya want, Mick.” Juno’s brain struggles to keep up with the excited babble streaming out of the phone.

“Juno! That hit we got on your listing? The Peter guy? He messaged again!”

No one’s outright asked Juno, “Did your fiancee ghost you three weeks before your wedding over text?”, so he’s not lying to his friends, per se. He just isn’t ready for the inevitable string of I-told-you-so’s from Rita and Vespa, who have hated Diamond since the moment they waltzed into Juno’s life ten months ago and stomped all over his heart with their designer boots.

Mick, bless him, is blissfully ignorant of Juno’s recent string of unfortunate life events. He’s blissfully ignorant about most things, actually, but his unending stream of well-intentioned business ventures mean he knows how to advertise.

Juno isn’t sure who Craig is, or why he keeps lists of random shit online. All he knows is that he can't afford rent on his own, and Mick owed him a favor. A lot of favors.  

“Let me guess, he's found something better and he's not interested anymore.”

Fuck Diamond for putting him in this situation. Even if he deserves it. Even if he should’ve known better.  

“No, Juno! He says, and I quote,” he clears his throat and reads dramatically, “‘Juno, would it be possible to move our rendezvous sooner? Due to personal issues I find I’m in need of accommodations a bit sooner than expected, and your ad did say the room was available post haste.’” Mick drops his voice back to normal. “He wants to meet sooner!”

“Yeah, I got that Mick. ‘Post haste’?”

“I went for a 'trustworthy but not desperate' vibe, ya feel?” Juno is quickly wishing he read and approved the ad before Mick posted it across the internet in his name.

“All right Mick, whatever, sure, just let me know when you set it up for.” There’s a long, telling silence. “...Mick?”

“Okay so here’s the thing,” and with that, Juno knows the universe is screwing with him again, “I kinda already told him you could meet him tomorrow morning? At eight? And I gave him the address of the apartment?” His words get faster with each blow.

“You gave him the address? Goddamn it Mick, I thought we were meeting for coffee somewhere first so I could make sure he’s not some wackjob who wants to hack me to pieces and wear my skin as a suit!” Juno’s less worried about becoming a potential skin suit and more worried about waking up before noon with the spectacular hangover he’s got planned, but he’s not going to tell Mick that.

“Oh Juno, you’re so,” he chuckles, “you’re hilarious! Skin suit. Ha! You’ve been watching Law and Order with Rita again, haven’t you?” Juno resists the urge to slam his head into the wall and end it all.

“Anyways, get some sleep tonight and make a good impression on our friend tomorrow! I’ll pass him your number. And hey, maybe you could mention my new Hair-in-a-Can line? One good turn and all that. The recall went real smooth with the last one!”

“Mick, hang on, listen to me-” Juno’s cut off by a loud crash in the background.

“Sorry Juno, gotta go, the cans are a bit more,” a high-pitched scream, “uh, high-pressured than we expected, good luck pal, don’t be a stranger!”

The line goes dead. Perfect. Juno eyes Smallfry.

“Not like I have anything worth stealing, huh? Unless he deals in small, neurotic rabbits.” He restocks Smallfry’s hay before he’s too drunk to remember. Vespa's convinced that a hungry rabbit might be inclined to chew through the apartment wall and go on a carnivorous hunting spree.

“My last roommate had a rabbit. It got mad when their sister’s rabbit got a nicer cage, so it chewed straight through the bars and,” she snapped her fingers, “chomp chomp. Nothing left but rabbits feet.”

“Bullshit.”

“What are you Steel, the rabbit whisperer? Okay, maybe it was a gerbil! Whatever, same difference.”

Then he grabs an extra blanket from the hall closet (it really is starting to get cold), two bottles of liquor, and the TV remote and settles onto the couch for another long night.

***

The best mornings are the mornings Juno wakes up still drunk and pleasantly fuzzy. This is not one of those mornings.

His alarm is playing quite loudly, meaning it’s probably been going off for quite some time, and two things happen in quick succession as his brain painfully struggles towards consciousness.

He rolls over in bed to grab at his phone and realizes the bed is actually a narrow couch. He hits the floor with a heavy thump . He's blindly swiping at the floor trying to turn the damn thing off, ignoring the nagging anxiety that he’s forgotten something important... There!

Blearily, he reads the alarm label… “SOUR CREAM.” What?

There’s a sharp knock at his door. His tipsy brain stumbles around in tight circles. He set that alarm weeks ago while cooking… never bothered to re-label it.... that doesn’t explain…

A second set of knocking, more forceful this time, accompanied by a muffled voice.

It’s 7:50AM and he honestly can’t remember why he’s supposed to be waking up or who could possibly be at the door. No, wait… he vaguely remembers…

Mick. The phone call. The desperate roommate.

All at once, Juno’s certain that he doesn’t need a roommate. It’s only four months after all, and the idea of a complete stranger snooping around his stuff, asking questions about his life, getting tangled up with his job, makes Juno’s skin crawl. It’s not worth the money. He can figure that out… somehow.

It’s decided. He’ll ignore the knocking. This Peter guy will eventually give up, he’ll tell Mick to take down the advertisement, and he’ll figure something else out.

Then a noise outside the door makes his blood run cold. He knows that giggle.

“Sorry Mista Criminal, lemme just, ngh-hungh, try that key.” Rita, traitor secretary and ex-best friend, is using her spare key to let this man into Juno’s apartment. The stranger’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Could you maybe...?”

There’s no time to think. Juno’s only on the second floor, there are bushes underneath the window. If he can get out quick enough, he might be able to avoid a meeting altogether-

“Thank you Rita, you are an absolute gem, and twice as beautiful if I might add...” the door clicks open.

Might’ve been able to. If he’d moved a little quicker.

“Hello! Juno, I presume?”

Fuck.

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You ch. 16

Read on Ao3

White noise.

That was all Adrien had seen or heard over the past five days. He missed fencing lessons, Chinese lessons, homework. He’d miss modelling appointments if his bodyguard wasn’t there to escort him. He didn’t know how those went. He barely remembered them once he was home. Plagg called it shock. He didn’t care.

It had been a week since she’d come back, showing up much like she had the first time he’d seen her: falling out of the sky. Sorry I’m late, Kitty.

Hope had not claimed him quietly. It had torn through his chest so violently it had brought him to tears for the third time since this nightmare had started. For a moment he’d thought the senti-monster had gotten him and he had confused Red for his Lady.

But no, it had really been her. He’d stared at her, unable to believe she was real, and realized, despite how hard he’d clung to her memory, how much had faded. The exact shade of her eyes with violet flecks no camera could capture. The intelligence in them that always drew him in. The beauty of her smile, the effortlessness of her grace. 

In that moment, it had all turned to dust in the wind. He didn’t care that she’d left him. He didn’t care that he’d made a mistake. He didn’t care that he’d been struggling without her. He didn’t care about any of it. She was back. And he felt like he’d finally gotten a piece of himself back, too. 

And then she’d disappeared again. He’d been confused, but had waited for her to swing by his window or leave a message. It never came. He tried sending her one, but there was no response. Two days passed, and another akuma attacked. 

He’d arrived eagerly. By then he assumed her memories just hadn’t returned. That was fine. He’d been searching for a solution, and while he hadn’t found one yet, he was eager to begin creating new ones. He was prepared, he told himself, for the event her memories never returned. It hurt, but it was a small price to pay for this miracle. Besides, he wasn’t giving up yet.

But when Ladybug had joined him minutes later, it wasn’t his Lady behind the mask. The nightmare returned, worse this time as the battled the akuma. Horror distracted him and almost cost them everything as Red explained a temporary holder had stood-in for her the other day. When he’d demanded to know who, she’d explained she didn’t know. Tikki had simply said to trust her and left with the earrings, returning less than three hours later with the jewels.

He’d almost given up then. He’d almost dropped his baton and thrown his ring down at the akuma’s feet. For a moment he did stop, his fingers loose on the cool metal. It was too much. All of it was too much for one person to bear. If Chat Noir’s heart was irreparably broken, then he didn’t want to be Chat Noir anymore.

Only interception from a nearby civilian had saved him from the akuma. It was a harsh reminder but one he needed. His Lady wasn’t the only person he was fighting for, wasn’t the only one with something to lose if he faltered again. 

At least they’d learned some things. One, this plan was one his Lady and Tikki had come up with together. And two, wearing the Miraculous, becoming Ladybug, wasn’t enough to trigger her memories. He’d noted those things, filed them away, and then sunk into a river of despair from which he couldn’t save himself. The pain of her literally holding her just for her to slip away again was too great. He couldn’t fight it.

So he’d stopped trying.

“Dude.”

Adrien blinked, looking over at Nino, who was staring pointedly at Mme. Bustier. “Mm?

“I asked if you would take Miss Bourgeois her homework today, Mr. Agreste,” their teacher repeated. “If you have the time?”

Chloe. That name finally stirred some feeling in him. Betrayal. Anger. Disappointment. He grabbed onto them like a lifeline. Anything was better than this numbness. “Sure.”

He had to get a grip. He’d always tried to see the best in everyone and everything, to find the silver lining. It had become infinitely more important since Hawkmoth had appeared. And if he couldn’t get it together, it would only be a matter of time until an akuma floated through his window with his name on it. 

It changed nothing, he decided as he belatedly shoved his books into his bag, only realizing the day was truly over as his classmates began to leave. What happened wasn’t his Lady’s fault. It was Tikki’s. She could have picked someone else, anyone else. Part of him knew there were probably extenuating circumstances that couldn’t be avoided. It was certainly the first time a sent-monster had accompanied an akuma in some time, and he’d been unable to use his cataclysm. Perhaps Tikki had panicked, trusting his Lady’s instincts to be enough to save them both - which they had. Could he even be angry?

Yes, he decided, standing and accepting Chloe’s homework from Mme. Bustier. He could. Tikki could have told her to wait, or to come back. Tikki could have changed it all.

But had anything really changed? No. Tikki probably knew that, too. That was what the letter had said, hadn’t it. ‘Once it’s safe’. Hawkmoth had a copy of the book, too. Perhaps their nemesis had found what he’d been unable to do: a way to restore lost memories. 

It didn’t matter. It was all speculation. He knew his Lady would never do anything to hurt him. He knew what had happened wouldn’t have been her choice, if she knew what it would have meant. It didn’t make it hurt any less. If anything it hurt more, to see face to face just how much he had lost.

“Um…Adrien?”

Marinette’s voice jerked Adrien back to the empty classroom. He realized he’d been staring at his desk, not seeing it. Even Nino had left. He’d probably said goodbye and he hadn’t even heard him.

“Hey, Marinette,” Adrien said. His voice came out rusty with disuse. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken more than two words to anyone. Probably not at all in the past five days.

His classmate was peeking up at him from under her lashes as she fiddled with something in her hand. “I was going to ask you if you were ok,” she said, “But that would be dumb, because I can tell something’s wrong. We all can.” She finally looked up at him. “We’re all worried about you. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to let you know that we’re here for you, and… and I made this for you.”

She held out the small package she’d been fidgeting with. Adrien took it, surprised, and pulled the pale pink ribbon to open the gift. Inside was a small quilted book. It smelled like lavender and vanilla - like Marinette. When he opened it, he discovered it was a sort of photo album, filled with pictures of him with all his friends. Him and Nino goofing off, him and Kim and Max playing video games, him and Juleka modelling together. The only one missing was…

“You’re not in any of these,” he said, looking up.

Marinette shrugged. “I kinda ran out of room,” she explained. “There were so many great photos to choose from, and - ”

“Will you bring one so I can add it?” Adrien asked, squeezing the little book. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten, Marinette, but it needs a picture of my best friend.”

“Your best…” Marinette trailed off, staring up at him. “Me?”

Adrien nodded. He didn’t know when it had happened, or how, considering how nervous his celebrity seemed to make her, but when he needed someone, Marinette was the person he thought of first. When he needed advice, Marinette was the one he turned to. When he needed a break, Marinette’s balcony was the one he ended up on.

“Why don’t we take a picture right now?” Adrien suggested as the inspiration nudged him. “And then I’ll add it to the book.”

“Um, sure,” Marinette said with a grin. “I’ll, um, try to find another protective sheet thingy for it.”

“Deal,” Adrien said, pulling out his phone. He opened up the camera, then wrapped an arm around Marinette’s shoulders and pulled her close. After a moment, she placed an arm around his waist as well. He tried not to shudder at the contact, tried to suppress the memories that surged up from the last time he’d been this close to someone - to her. He’d promised himself he’d never let her slip away, never let himself lose her again, only for her to disappear like smoke on the wind.

But Marinette was real, he told himself. She was here, and she wasn’t going to disappear. He could feel her warmth through his shirt, could smell the same lavender and vanilla coming from her.

As though she could sense the anguish rolling off him in waves, Marinette twisted, wrapping both her arms around him in a tight hug. It was almost enough to trigger more tears, but he swallowed them. He’d cried enough. It was time to look to the future.

“Thank you, Marinette,” Adrien whispered. He turned his face, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he took the photo. He wanted to remember this feeling after it had passed, to be able to pull this photo out the next time he felt like crying and remember there was still love to be had if he was willing to accept it.

Marinette dropped her arms and stepped back, as though she were overwhelmed as well. “You’re welcome,” she said quickly. “Um, out did it turn how?”

Adrien chuckled, opening up the photo. It was a little off-centre, a little crooked. It was perfect. “I love it,” he said. “It’s the perfect addition.”

“Yeah, you’re perfect,” Marinette said softly as she looked over his shoulder. “I mean, it’s perfect. Could you maybe…send it to me? So I can have a picture with my best friend, too?”

“Deal,” Adrien said, already sending it over. “Thank you, Marinette. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, beaming. “And…if you want, I can take Chloe her stuff.”

Adrien blinked. He’d forgotten all about Chloe. “I don’t mind,” he said, shouldering his bag. “It’ll just be a quick trip.” And the Grand Palais was on his patrol route. He might as well start there. He’d be doing several laps anyway.

“Want company?” Marinette offered.

He did, he realized. He wanted to ask her along more than anything, wanted to bring her along and show her his Paris, to spend the evening with a friend, to lose himself in Marinette until he could blot out his Lady and his impossible quest altogether. Just for one night.

But he knew, even as his brain raced ahead to the logistics between ‘Adrien’ and ‘Chat Noir, that he couldn’t. That it wouldn’t be just one night or one time. He knew he could fall in love with her, if he let himself forget.

It would be easy. So incredibly easy. And selfish.

“Thanks,” Adrien said, “But it’s ok. I’m…I’ll be ok.”

“Ok,” Marinette said, adjusting her bag. “There’s always something for you at the bakery if you change your mind.” She left with a wave, and Adrien watched her go, waiting until he knew she was too far to chase after her to head down to his waiting car.

“To the Grand Palais,” Adrien instructed as he strapped in. His bodyguard raised and eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he turned onto the busy street. The trip was quick, and they arrived sooner than Adrien would have liked. He grabbed his bag. “I’m going to be working with Chloe for a while. You should head back.”

His bodyguard frowned.

“Group project,” Adrien explained. “Wasn’t my choice. Her driver will give me a ride back.”

His bodyguard finally nodded and popped the locks on the door. Adrien waited until he drove away to head into the hotel. He’d convinced himself it was no big deal, but the truth was that it was. Chloe had been his first friend, his oldest friend. He’d never imaged she was capable of siding with Hawkmoth. He knew she was no saint, but he hadn’t thought she’d betray them like that.

He’d been to Chloe’s several times, both as Adrien and as Chat Noir, but it was different this time. Even behind the mask, it had always felt like a second home. Now he felt like a stranger. He didn’t know her any more. Maybe he never had.

“It’s unlocked,” Chloe called when he knocked on the door. 

Adrien took a deep breath and opened the door.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t Chloe in the middle of her spacious room, swathed in yards and yards of black and yellow bridal satin with pins pressed between her lips as she attempted something like draping. It took him a minute to realize his assumption had been right - she was basing her design project on herself. Some things never did change. 

“Maybe you misread the assignment, Chloe,” Adrien said coolly. “You’re supposed to design something based off one of the heroes, not the villains.”

She barely spared him a glance, and rolled her eyes when she did. “I can accept that you can’t forgive what I did,” she managed around the pins, “But if I wanted to be verbally abused, I would have just gone to school.”

“Is that why you haven’t been all week?” Adrien asked, stepping further into the room. “Avoiding everyone?”

“Tempting,” Chloe said, sticking her mannequin with a pin, “But no. I’ve been dreadfully ill. Today’s the first day I’ve been able to get out of bed. You all get to see my lovely face monday morning, don’t you worry.”

“About you?” Adrien said, dropping into a tufted chair and crossing his long legs. “I didn’t think I had to.”

“Well then I guess we were both wrong,” Chloe said, shoving her last pin into a fold of black satin. She stilled, one hand full of fabric, the other on the shoulder of her dressform, staring at it as though she could see in her design everything Queen Bee was supposed to have been, and everything it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally looking at him. “I…I made a mistake. Maybe the worst mistake of my life. If I could change the past, I would, but I can’t. I regret the choices I made. They were mean, and cruel, and selfish, and I have no excuses.  I’m sorry, Adrien. I understand that we’ll probably never be friends again, and you may never be able to accept my apology, but you still deserve to hear one.”

Adrien stilled, staring at his former friend as though he could still see pieces of her through the impenetrable wall that had gone up in the last year. “That doesn’t sound like the Chloe I know.”

“I’m trying something different,” Chloe said, adjusting a tuck, “Since that actually didn’t go so well for me.”

Logic and love warred in Adrien’s head. Logic wanted him to throw Chloe’s homework at her feet, tell her it was too late, and march up to the roof to get started on his patrol. Love had latched onto the hope that had taken advantage of his surprise and stolen in when he wasn’t looking.

Maybe he was still raw from losing his Lady. Maybe Marinette’s kindness had made him softer. Maybe, after everything, he needed something to be easy and good. Maybe he just needed to feel like he could fix something, anything at all. Maybe he just needed something to be normal again.

Maybe he just needed to know that forgiveness was possible. To know he was capable of giving it, and to hope that, when the time came, he was worthy of receiving it.

“Do you mean it?” Adrien asked quietly. His knuckles had gone white, wrapped around the arms of the chair. “Sincerely?”

Chloe looked up into his face, unflinching. “More than anything in my life. Probably more than anything I ever will.”

Adrien took a breath. Held it. Then let it go. Let it all go. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He offered a cautious half-smile. “Okay. I accept.”

Chloe bit her lip and ducked her head so he couldn’t see her face. “Okay. Thank you, Adrien. That…it means a lot to me. I know that I…I crossed a lot of boundaries, so we’ll just take it slow, and you can let me know where they are?”

“Sounds fair to me,” Adrien said. Finally, finally, something felt right again. Chloe shot him a grin over the mannequin’s shoulder and he returned it, reaching for his bag. “By the way, I actually came by to drop of… what was that?”

Chloe frowned. “What was that?”

“The light’s just…” Adrien squinted at the lights as they flickered again. He wouldn’t have noticed normally, except it never should have happened in the hotel.

“Adrien,” Chloe said, abruptly striding over to him. “You need to get out of here. Now.”

“What?” Adrien pushed back, shocked. “What are you talking about.”

“Something’s wrong,” she said, glaring around the room. “Can you feel it?”

He could, actually, but he didn’t know Chloe could, too. 

“Ok,” he said, letting her steer him towards the door. If the hall was empty, he could transform and swing in through the window in seconds. If not, the elevator was just a few feet away.

They hadn’t taken three steps, however, when a large shadow pooled in front of the door, a tiny charm hovering in its centre. Then it grew teeth. Sharp teeth.

“Senti-monster,” they said at the same time. They glanced at each other, momentarily surprised, then back-peddled as the creature began to ooze towards them, slow but steady. The razor sharp fangs glinted in the light, but aside from the teeth, it remained half-corporeal, mostly shadow.

One of his worst fears was coming true. He was trapped with no where to go. Chat Noir could save them, but then Chloe and Hawkmoth would learn his identity. His Lady’s sacrifice would be for nothing.

“In here,” Chloe said, yanking him into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind them, locking it.

“Something tells me that’s not going to stop it,” Adrien said. Sure enough, the shadows at the bottom of the door were beginning to undulate and coalesce. 

“I don’t disagree with you,” Chloe said. “Dammit. I was really hoping to keep it a secret this time. Tikki, spots on!”

Before he could even process what was happening, Adrien saw a red blur pop out of Chloe’s sweater and disappear into a pair of familiar black studs he hadn’t even noticed she’d been wearing.

All Adrien could do was watch through the pink light as the mask blazed across his friend’s eyes. All this time. All these weeks of ignoring her, of everyone shunning her. The taunts, the comments, the snide remarks. She’d been the one who stepped in for his Lady. She’d been saving all of them. And Ladybug had chosen her to do it.

“You? You’re - ”

“A temporary situation,” Red said, turning to the window. “I don’t think I need to tell you, but obviously this stays between us.” She popped it open and leveraged herself onto the sill before glancing back down at him. “If I had another choice, I would’t have dragged you into this, but Adrien, there are things going on right now that you don’t understand. I know you must be confused, but I need you to trust me.”

“I…I do.” What? What? He was so far away from what she was saying right now he hadn’t even heard her. He was still trying to process the fact that he’d been fighting side by side with Chloe for weeks and hadn’t even known.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Red said, unslinging the yo-yo from around her waist. “Stay here.”

Adrien glanced at the door where a shadow was starting to rise up. He could already see a tooth. He turned to say as much to Red, but she’d already disappeared.

“Well, I never would have predicted that.” Plagg poked his head over Adrien’s collar but ducked when he saw the centi-monster shaping up. “Why would Ladybug ever choose her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Adrien grunted as he grabbed a broom from the closet.

“Time for Chat Noir to arrive?” Plagg suggested.

“I’d agree,” Adrien said, swinging the broom. “Shame about the audience.” The bristle’s passed right through the monster like it wasn’t even there. The teeth parted and a hissing noise escaped. It was laughing, he realized.

The bathroom door suddenly banged open and Red was there, a lucky charm already in hand. “When I distract it, run,” she said. And then she lunged at the monster.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Adrien said, leaping past her.

Except he didn’t leave. Instead, he ran to the closet. With or without Chat Noir, he was still Red’s partner. He snatched up shoes by the pair and began heaving them at the senti-monster. Even without the mask, his aim was pretty good.

The monster snarled, turning on him. It had gotten faster, Adrien realized. And bigger. Much bigger. 

He dove to the side as the monster pounced for him. He rolled, his shoulder stinging icy cold where the shadows brushed him. 

“When I said run, I meant away,” Red said, hauling him up by his bad arm. He hissed at the pain, and both of them were surprised when her hand came away wet. “That is…decidedly more deadly than I’m used to.”

Adrien heard the chuckle before he saw the explosion, but it wasn’t as far behind as he hoped. He tackled Red just in time, knocking her to the floor as the blast sent shrapnel whistling over their heads.

“My…closet…” Red whispered, staring over his shoulder. “My closet!”

Adrien followed her gaze. Sure enough, a gaping hole leading straight down to the Parisian streets was letting a nice breeze in where her closet had once stood. The sent-monster was no where to be found, but the charred remains of the charm that had been floating in its centre and an equally scorched feather lay dead-centre of the blast radius.

“I guess you won’t have to use that,” Adrien groaned, nodding at the spotted butterfly-catcher. “How’s that for lucky?”

“Oh, yeah,” Red said, staggering to her feet. “I sure feel real lucky right now!”

“The Lucky Charm will fix it,” Adrien said, pulling himself up. He paused for a moment as she sifted through the remnants of her wardrobe, as though his idea were just occurring to him. “Your suit changed. It didn’t look like this last weekend?”

“What?” She gasped as what used to be a Louboutin crumbled in her fingers. 

“Last weekend with that monster that stole everyone’s voices.” Adrien tried not to flinch as the memories of that day swirled up. “You looked different. I, um, saw it on Alya’s blog.”

“I couldn’t make it to that,” Red said as though it were just some party that had clashed with a birthday. “Sick, remember? That’s actually why I couldn’t make it to school. Every time I started to get better and akuma would attack and it’d wear me right back out. If I fail this semester I am so suing Hawkmoth for damages.”

“So that wasn’t you?” Adrien asked innocently.

“Don’t even try it, Agreste,” Red said, finally looking at him. “I don’t know who it was, and even if I did, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is Tikki took the Miraculous to someone else to stand in, and if it was who I think it was… well. I can’t say anything else.”

“You said this was a temporary situation,” he pressed unable to drop it. “Does that mean…?”

“Seriously, Adrien,” Red said, giving him her full attention. “Something’s wrong, ok? With the heroes. I don’t know what, just that Ladybug has this top secret mission or something. I don’t know. I didn’t get the details, and honestly, I can’t blame her for not telling me. I’m holding onto her Miraculous just until she gets back. That’s it. That’s the whole story. She didn’t even give them to me herself, so that is literally the whole story, okay?”

“Okay.” Adrien made his way over to his bag and pulled out her homework, dropping it on the chair. “Your secret is safe with me. Are you going to be ok here?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Red said, waving him off. “The miracle cure will fix this whole mess, I just cannot believe that mangy cat! And he doesn’t even show his face. Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

“Alright, Chlo,” Adrien said, unable to completely hide a grin as he opened the door. “Catch you later.”

He slipped out the door as she reached for the unused Lucky Charm. Had he glanced back, he might have noticed the suspicious look she threw his way, but he didn’t, and the door slipped shut just as the Ladybugs began to fix everything.

“I don’t know if I should hug you or only give you kraft singles for a week,” Adrien said once he was in an elevator on his way to the roof. “That was incredibly dangerous of you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Plagg gasped, swirling out of Adrien’s pocket. “Besides, I’ve been practicing! It only spread down five floors! And, if you’ll recall, I did promise to cataclysm everything she loves.”

Adrien’s retort died on the tip of his tongue. After all, how could he argue with that. Promise made; promise kept.

“Fair enough,” Adrien finally said as they approached the roof. “Okay, you get out of it this time. Plagg, claws out!”

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 17 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter sixteen (NSFW)

Title: Reminder

Words: 6300

Summary: Did you really think it would last forever?

Warnings:  Dubcon/Noncon, inappropriate use of the Force

ST Rambles: I don't even know what to say, so maybe I just won't say anything. Oh brother, 'tis almost time, y'all. Strap in, the ride is about to commence.

[Masterlist]

There was hesitation in the gesture, knuckles faltering just before they made contact with the durasteel door. It’s not like the knock would come as a surprise; you’d arranged to meet with Mason a little over a week ago, stalling the interaction as long as possible in hopes of avoiding the conversation it entailed. There had been no other exchange made over the week, only a few messages shared to decide when and where he wanted to talk, as he had put it; Mason had given no indication of the contents of the discussion he had planned, nothing that could aid in forming pre-made answers to whatever questions he would surely – and rightfully – have since Kylo Ren had made him a pawn in a game of which he was unaware.

In the time since Mason’s cryptic text, you had made a purposeful effort at snubbing any thoughts of your Master; the sight of his signature, indicating the prohibition of your practice on any patient other than him, blared red in its memory. After hours of tachycardic deliberation trying to make sense of it, which ultimately ended in a few tear-stained pillowcases and more than a couple headaches, you concluded it was a pointless pursuit. Kylo Ren did what Kylo Ren wanted; he was never required to explain himself, and you were sure if you asked him – especially in the throes of the rage he’d inspired – whatever answer he might provide would only create more questions.

Since the stormtrooper hub was off limits, your days had vacated whatever routine they may have once held. In the wake of avoiding Mason and mentally blocking Kylo the only thing you could focus on was the impending doom which the trial promised, imagining how your decapitated head would sound as it hit the floor with a dull thud, wondering if its echo would be audible through the live broadcast. The thought crept into your subconscious, filling your nights with nightmares of every legal way of execution the First Order recognized – electric guillotine, fatal injection, or the rather malicious way of exploding a solo transport shuttle in the depths of space. Every slumber offering a new plot with the same inevitable ending.

In honoring a self-set pact, you wouldn’t allow yourself to quell the terrors by getting off to lascivious thoughts, the ones which threatened to appear whenever you would accidentally think of how your Master had left you. He had just come from signing your rights away, and there was nothing in his demeanor that indicated he saw anything wrong in his actions. He didn’t, you were sure, but acknowledging that fact only tightened your jaw and twitched your nose, your tongue buzzing with every practiced speech you’d imagined in your free time.

Between all that currently plagued your mind you barely had time to fret over returning to your own residence; although you didn’t want to credit Ren with any good thing, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you felt safer knowing the new security that’d been installed – which, to your surprise, included a whole new door – was only accessible using the keycard he’d provided. Well, essentially; in one quick trip from the cafeteria you’d bumped into a stormtrooper and lost the original card, having to take an afternoon to get a replacement coded to the new identification system.

There was limited power in the technological safety, your nights filled with intermittent shallow bouts of paranoid sleep, never getting more than three unbroken hours before jolting up and scanning the room for intruders. It wasn’t an ideal situation, no, but at least you had somewhere to go, relieved you didn’t have to ask Mason to crash again, grateful you didn’t need to skulk back to Kylo Ren after he’d figuratively spit on any prospects you might’ve had at redeeming yourself in the eyes of the Board of Physicians.

Now, though, the buffer of time had come and passed, your watch indicating it was ten minutes past the agreed upon meeting time. Three of the ten had passed as you stood here, stalling the unavoidable interaction while simultaneously feeling guilty for being late. Delicately tapping the tips of your knuckles to the door, you hoped maybe Mason wouldn’t hear and you could later explain that you had shown up but he hadn’t been there. Though, that plan quickly turned to dust when you were met with the injured eyes of your friend.

It was alarming, the sight of him; Mason had always been one to keep himself together – showering every morning, shaving afterward, dressing even if he wasn’t to leave his residence – but he looked as if he’d been picked over by Sand People and mauled by tauntauns afterward. Every exposed span of skin was spotted with varying shades of yellows, browns, and reds; the veins which resided beneath the flesh of his anterior forearms punctuated in their color, bruises trailing along their paths as if the vessels had burst. The same trailed up both his carotid arteries, face splotched in an appalling show of healing hematomas. The worst of his pained exterior resided in and around his eyes, his sockets deepened with a crude shade of yellow, his sclera streaked with tiny branches of broken blood vessels.

“Hey,” was all he said, his voice straining against the words.

There were no words that dared to leave, instead your mouth hung open with guilt and silent horror; this was your fault, these were the true consequences which Kylo Ren had informed you of. Even as your bruises faded, your neck freshly free of your Commander’s lavishing, you felt new ones – internal and empathetic – rise eagerly to ache in their absence. This should be you, Kylo had said, the knowledge that this was your misplaced punishment thickening your throat with strangled regret, silently regarding how monstrous this show of brutality was. Condemnation tightened your jaw, mostly for Kylo Ren, but reserving a small portion for your own keeping, cursing yourself for being tricked by the temporary humanity he’d exhibited the very night he’d wrought the massacre before you

All you could think to do was reach out to him, your hand pressing against his cheek, your eyes pouring into his own as a torrent of shame ripped through you. He flinched away from your touch, teeth sucking in a seethe of air as even the featherlight graze prompted his recoil.

“Oh, I’m so… I’m sorry, Mason.” The apology came in phases as your hand shot away from him, not sure how you could express how pained you were to know you were responsible for his misery.

He hobbled from the door frame, gesturing you past him. “It’s not like this – whatever it is – has anything to do with you.” He coughed out what sounded like an attempted laugh.

“What do you mean? It has everything to do with me.”

His residence was littered with the remnants of a week spent in bed; there were blankets spilling in disarray over the couch, the floor spotted with piles of clothes, a distinct path cutting through the living space and leading back to his room. Mason was never the type to stay still if he didn’t have to, but from the looks of it he hadn’t left here since Kylo Ren had ordered you away from him.

“So you know what happened, then?” The door hissed shut behind him, his gait unsteady as he walked past and gingerly sat down.

You stared at him in disbelief, unsure if he was being serious or not. “Mason, you aren’t making any sense.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He was frustrated, fingers twisting into his short strands.

“Okay,” you said, joining him on the couch, “you need to explain what’s going on because I’m getting worried, like, drag-you-to-the-emergency-hub worried.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. That’s what I’m saying. I just – I woke up on the ground the morning I messaged you, and I…” His face was drawn in concentration, like he was trying to see through concrete; he shook his head, a sharp breath leaving him before he turned to you. “I lost time.”

There was a thick veil of some indiscernible emotion etched into his eyes, a fog of shame and fear and disbelief. It wasn’t completely unbelievable to consider his brain had checked out during the torture he’d endured, though he should still be able to remember fragments of it.

“Lost time? Like, you blacked out? Or what?”

“No. I didn’t black out. I remember that feeling too well.” He blinked past memories of his university days. “This feels like – damn, I feel crazy even saying it out loud.”

“You’re not crazy. Trust me, I’d know,” you attempted to make him laugh, earning a slight twitch at his brow. “C’mon, tell me. Please.”

“And I even told Soto about it and the best he could suggest without any imaging was some fugue state. But that just doesn’t seem right because-,”

“Mason.”

He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms and huffing before observing you. “I feel like whatever I’m missing, whatever I can’t remember – I think it was taken from me.”

“Taken from you?”

“That’s the only way I can describe it. Like I know something happened, but I just… it’s gone. The last thing I remember clearly is you telling me about the trial. And then when I woke up I could barely breathe without shaking in pain.”

Though you tried to hide it, your face was covered in the knowledge of what happened – or what almost did – soon after that discussion. This was why you’d been so nervous about coming here; you’d expected and anticipated an agonizing conversation about the advances made that night, fearing how you would have to explain to him that you didn’t feel the same. But, for him, nothing had happened; to Mason, the only thing he was aware of was how deep a hole you’d fallen into.

In your silence, his face fell with mortification. “Did I do something?” He sat up again, grunting as the shift ground against his muscles. “I mean”—his eyes scanned over your expression before you could fix it into nonchalance—“if I did do… something, was it…”

It didn’t feel right not to tell him about the almost-kiss, especially when it was obvious he knew exactly what it had been even in the absence of memory, realizing he’d thought about it before that night. The tops of your cheeks heated, your eyes quickly evading his as indecisiveness overtook you. What harm would it be in him not knowing? But what would come if his ignorance was temporary and he learned you’d lied to him? How would it appear if he found out you’d left him that night to suffer alone, going with the Commander of the First Order in the late hours of the night to some undisclosed location for some unknown reason? There was too much to consider in such a short amount of time, your thoughts loud as your silence led him to assume extremes.

“Is this all—” he gestured down his mottled arms and over his chest “—is this your doing? Because, damn, I’d like to know what-,”

“We didn’t, uh”—the idea that he thought you could, or would, ever do this to him under the pretense of sex brought a rejective shiver, your hands grasping at your knees to dig tension into them –“no, we… nothing happened. I mean, not really. Nothing so… violent. At least.”

There was no relief on his face, only a continued gawk of confusion, like some part of him had wanted you to be the one responsible for his markings, like it would be easier for him to accept that than any other explanation. “Then what happened? You said earlier that this had everything to do with you. Now I’m just completely lost.”

“Do you really think I could bang you up this badly?”

Mason’s face faltered in and out of pink, a blush leaving as quickly as it had come. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he swallowed, mouth slightly quirked at the corners. “I don’t know what you’re into.” When he considered you for a moment too long, you spoke just before he could say anything further.

“I would never hurt you like this, or at all, ever. And it is hurt, nothing more than that, so you shouldn’t read into it.” As you spoke to him, you listened to yourself, realizing you may need to take your own advice.

“If we didn’t…” He left your stare for a moment and cleared his throat before returning. “You said ‘nothing so violent’. What does that mean, then?”

“We didn’t have sex,” you said, needing to state it outwardly to make yourself crystal clear, “but you did almost… kiss me.”

The bewilderment in his expression was catalyzed into something you perceived as the beginnings of hope, something too cruel to offer him when you knew what you said next would just as quickly eviscerate its existence. “I couldn’t go through with it, though.”

When the words left you, his posture shifted and you could’ve sworn you heard the quiet chaos of violin strings being plucked in half. “Oh.”

“If I hadn’t come here that night, none of this would’ve happened,” you explained, chewing at your cheek as you did. “That’s what I meant earlier. And I’m sorry.”

Grateful for the distraction, he took a deep breath, one he’d seemingly forgotten about for a while, and shook his head free of the charged moment. “That still makes no sense to me.” He concentrated on the bruises ascending his forearm as he traced along their yellowed path.

It occurred to you that Mason’s memory loss wasn’t such a mystery, noting that the interruption that had caused it held many capabilities of which you were sure you weren’t aware of, capabilities he only ever used for his benefit. In light of this realization, bone marrow boiling thinking of the convoluted rationale Kylo had in robbing Mason’s recollection, you felt compelled to take it from him, to steal whatever power he had in the action just as he’d stolen your ability to practice. It was a fine line to walk, though, taking an inward moment to consider how to leave out your involvement, self-preservation taking precedence over the vehement abhorrence which your Master had a knack for inspiring as of late.

“That night, just after our – well, whatever it was,” you said, focusing on his arm as he did. “Commander Ren came by to inform me of an appointment I’d forgotten about.” It wasn’t a complete lie, just an altered retelling; at least that’s what you told yourself. “One minute you were right in front of me, and the next—” you looked up, staring at the metal wall which had once held Mason’s outline, your pause prompting Mason to follow suit “—you were screaming in pain.”

Mason’s eyes focused on the area longer than yours did, finding him mindlessly rub the back of his head, the information slowly rationalizing every ache residing in him. “I’d never been so scared or pissed in my life. I knew he was ruthless, and maybe at this point I shouldn’t be surprised, but what he did to you is just,” Mason looked back to you, hands falling down to his lap, “it’s inhuman. And I don’t believe you’ll ever comprehend the amount of guilt I feel for causing it.”

He rasped your name, his face scrunched in disbelief. “How has this psychopath convinced you that any of this is your fault? No, please tell me you know this is his doing. I won’t accept your apology because it shouldn’t be coming from you.”

A petty huff of air left you, amused at his last statement. “Well, if you’re expecting one from the Commander, you shouldn’t hold your breath.”

“I know better than that,” he said, taking your wrist in his hand, fingers falling over the ghosted remnants of your bindings from that night. “I also know that you don’t deserve whatever mental warfare you’re going through. Tell me you know that, too.”

Although he wasn’t aware he’d said them, you distantly regarded the truth he’d spoken that night: I know you, the words founded in fondness faded between you, recognizing the opportunity this moment presented. Before you spoke, you took his hand and clasped it in your own, a preface of reassurance. “I know, Mason. Thank you, though, for reminding me who I am.”

Seeing the yearning that resided in his eyes might have shattered your heart, knowing full well how dull the knife of unrequited feelings was, yet you found solace in the fact he was putting himself aside to be comrade, just as you had when he’d needed the same in years past. Mason knew you best, and there was nobody else you would ever trust so entirely with your life.

“I know it’s such a bad time and I feel selfish even thinking about this right now, but it just feels like the only time I’ll have-,”

As you had earlier, he carried you back to reality by the sharp interruption of your name, eyes wide and hand shaking your own. “Spit it out already.”

“I got the run down on my trial last week and they’re allowing me to choose one person to testify in my favor. You’re the only person I would ever want to speak on my behalf.”

His face lifted with his full, toothy smile, yellow crinkles forming at his eyes before he remembered how painful happiness was to express in his state; his cheeks fell in retraction, his laughter at his forgetfulness prompting your own. “Why did you even think you had to ask? Yes, I’ll take the stand for you. No question about it.”

For a moment, you let yourself forget as he did, leaping up and hugging him to you with voraciousness, listening to his squeaks of suffering as you rocked him side to side, feeling his arms pat against your back in acceptance or rejection – you were unsure which it was. A knock was the only thing that pulled you out of the tangible state of glee, your heart falling as your eyes did, only relaxing when you regarded the distance your radar reported.

“That’s probably Soto,” Mason said as you stood at his side. “He’s been keeping me up to speed on my patients and assignments. He’s actually early today.”

“I guess I should go. I’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today, anyway.”

“Aren’t you down at the stormtrooper hub when Ren doesn’t need you?”

Eye twitching at the memory of your nonexistent practice, you sucked your teeth. “There isn’t enough time nor patience in the world for me to talk about it right now,” you sneered, leaving his hand as you headed for the door. “But I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe tomorrow, if you wouldn’t mind my company?”

“Hm, I’ll have to check my schedule,” he feigned, tongue dripping in sarcasm.

“You wound me, McCarty. Y’know that?”

“I kid. Yes, come over. I’d love some company.”

“Oh, so I’m just some company to you, now?”

His brow arched in challenge, a playful light in his eyes. “What? Are you waiting on some grand profession of my love for thee? Thought you said you couldn’t go through with it, huh?”

“Okay, I’m leaving now.” You figured it was best to stop him before he read too much into your banter.

“Hey, hey,” he called you back one last time, your hand wavering above the door’s indicator. “Where have you been staying this past week? Aren’t you being stalked by that Robbie idiot?”

“Actually, that’s not an issue anymore,” you said, dancing around how that fact came to be. “I’m back at my place.”

“Oh. Good. I would offer my place again but—” he gestured towards the disheveled room “—I’m afraid I can’t offer the best amenities at the moment.”

You smiled at him, fingers splaying towards him as to say goodbye. Before you could turn away from him completely, though, he jolted in place and called you back. “One last thing, I promise, alright?” He gave you a sheepish smile before you crossed your arms in response. “I know you don’t pay attention to the First Order’s calendar, but there’s a mandatory rally in a month or so. It said something about the Republic and some weapon. I don’t know. Just thought you’d like a heads-up.”

With that, you left him with a thank you, taking a short moment to greet Dr. Soto, regarding the rather large stack of paperwork he held tight to his chest. For a second you envied Mason, noting he at least had work to keep up on in his leave of absence, inwardly shrinking as you thought of the empty hours awaiting you at your residence; this made you savor the walk home, counting the footsteps between each tile conjunction, taking time to greet those you passed, stopping for a moment to observe the routine marching of grouped stormtroopers through a glass panel. At one point you found yourself standing in the center of a massive floor mosaic of the First Order’s emblem, turning slowly as every one of the sixteen spikes aimed towards you, noting the irony of its red nature.  

It was the longest you’d ever stretched the walk out, twenty minutes passing before you arrived at your door, its clean, unmarked face mocking you; yes, you were safe behind it, but at what cost? Your career? Your sanity? Doing a final sweep of the hall, your eyes rolled as you swiped the ID-lock and stepped past the hydraulic threshold, dropping your stuff on the credenza just inside the door. To delay your boredom even longer, you searched and found the email Mason had referenced, mentally noting the rally was only two weeks before your trial.

“Would you like to tell me why you were with the physician all morning?” A voice came from the shadows, your heart falling as a quick yelp left you. “Or do I get to go digging?”

Collecting yourself, you were overcome with pure, refined wrath as the unaltered voice of an unmasked Kylo Ren ground against your ear drums, a trigger for every thought you’d restrained to rain down all at once, your skin heating before any coherency would form in your mind. Flashes of Mason’s injury mixed with those of your Master’s signature, both images reinforcing your resolve to accept none of his usual antics.

“No, I’m perfectly fine with telling you how I met my friend, completely bludgeoned and partially brainwashed, to explain to him what happened on the night that had conveniently been erased from his memory. Though, you already know all of this, so why would I waste your time, Commander?”

Walking further into the room, your arms coiled to your chest, you couldn’t see him in the main room, finding his helmet propped on the coffee table. Stomping through to your room, you found him sitting on the edge of your bed, hands clamped onto the curve of the mattress, face flat and cold.

“Oh, I should also mention I went to see him so I could use the disgusting amount of free time I’ve been allotted in the wake of my practice being barred. Gosh, I just keep telling you things you already know.”

“Hm, that explains it.” His tone matched his demeanor, offering no emotion.

Keeping his eyes, you walked past the threshold and in front of him, an arm’s length away. “Explains what?”

The tip of his tongue lit between his teeth before he spoke, his focus never settling on any one of your features. “You’ve been avoiding me. In more ways than one.” His eyes stuck on your pelvis just long enough for your pulse to pick up before coming up to yours. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Why would I want to think about the thing that infuriates me?” There was too much disdain for his distractions to work.

“You said you were worried about the Board. I acted in your favor.” He reached out, hooking two fingers into your waistband. “Where’s your uniform?”

Ignoring the uproar between your legs, you grabbed at his wrist, his errant apathy twisting your face with disbelief. “How is dismantling my career and nearly killing my friend acting in my favor?”

He ignored your opposition, pulling you closer to him, feet dragging with reluctance. “I didn’t bar your practice, and I didn’t kill your friend.” He took a breath, another hand coming to peel into your pants, two fingers skimming at either hip.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I didn’t catch that last part. What’d you say?” He looked up at you, his stare feigning confusion.

Astonishment left your mouth to hang open. “Are you – what,” you stuttered out, his brow coming up in challenge. The bastard was cracking jokes. “I do not have the time or patience to deal with you right now.”

He kept your stare as he pulled you forward, your face just barely above his as he sat. “Tell me,” he dipped his face into your neck and kissed your name into the buzzing skin, “what is there to deal with?”

So his strategy was to seduce you into your own bed? Was he just choosing to ignore the rolling waves of rage you knew he could sense? “This isn’t going to work this time.”

His nose skimmed against your collar bone as the fingers at your hips began to pull down, his lips falling against the hem of your neckline. He had placed you between his spread legs, the inside of his thighs hitting the outside of yours, his warmth nearing you towards the tiniest crack in your resolve. Still, it wasn’t enough to forgive all he’d done since that night. To keep focused, you let your mind run rampant with thoughts of Mason’s pain, replaying his screams over and over to keep away from giving into Kylo.

“Why do you insist I have a goal in mind?” His teeth grazed down your jaw.

“Why did you ban me from practice?”

“Your only assignment is me. I didn’t take anything from you that you needed.” He slipped your pants down your thighs, leaving your panties behind as the waistband fell to your feet. His fingers wrenched into your hips trying to pull you into his lap.

“If I can’t practice, the Board can’t get a good judgement on my competency and I’ll have no chance at keeping my license.” You brought your hands to his shoulders, pushing off of them with considerable strength, feeling as they flexed beneath you.

He continued his pursuit to pull you onto him, ignoring your objections, trailing his nose from your inner clavicle, out towards your shoulder, and ghosting it down the curve of your covered chest; when he met the base of your breast he nuzzled into you, a soft grunt leaving him, the sound venom to your resolve.

He hummed against you. “That’s exactly why I did it.” One hand skated beneath your shirt, your muscles drumming beneath his touch.

“So you want me to lose my career? Isn’t that counter intuitive? If I can’t practice, I’ll be replaced.” His admission fortified your efforts, feeling stronger as your lust fell into your earlier anger.

“If you can’t practice, you can’t mess up, and the Board can’t hold things against you that you didn’t do.” His head swiveled to your other breast, teeth biting at you through your top.

That hurt. That pulled you entirely away from his machinations. He may trust you with his life, but apparently not with anyone else’s. There was no hint of remorse or even awareness in his tone; he found nothing wrong in his statement, like he blatantly agreed that you held no medical competency. Taking one hand, you buried it into the base of his skull and pulled back on his hair, tearing his face from your chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He looked more annoyed than angry, like he couldn’t process how his words had stung. “Do you want to rephrase that question with professionalism in mind?”

“Professionalism? You don’t get to lecture me on proper workplace behavior when your face was just buried in my tits two seconds ago.”

His head tilted before he spoke, eyes narrowing in question. “I don’t get to?”

The room spun before you had a chance to object, your back hitting the bed and bouncing as the springs sounded beneath you. Propping yourself up on your elbows you looked for where he’d gone, finding him crouched between your legs, face cast with a new purpose. When hidden hands tore off your shoes, you watched his eyes as they drew knives into your chest.

“Take off your shirt,” he said simply.

An amused breath came from your nose. “No.”

Fingers bit into the bend of your knees, your eyes shooting to his. The way he looked at you was purposeful, your eyes reacting to his like a magnet, a slight pull behind his stare. “Take off your shirt.”

There was a wicked smirk creeping over his face before you could process what was happening; though you hadn’t sent any indication through your brain to abide by his command, it seemed your body was overriding your wishes and giving into his. Suddenly it felt like you were merely a consciousness residing within a solid form, arms pulling your shirt off and additionally reaching behind you remove your bra. It was bizarre, watching yourself from within, having no control over your actions, screaming at yourself to stop. But you couldn’t, your arms tossing both articles to the side as you felt the chill of the room spread over your exposed breasts.

“You need to understand that I can do what I want—” he took his hands from your knees “—when I want—” he stood from between your legs “—how I want—” he stared down over you, his gaze admiring what his handiwork had uncovered “—and I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone.”

One of his hands fell to his belt, undoing the fasteners before it dropped to his feet, moving on to unfurl the layers of his uniform to grasp at the erection they’d been containing. Standing back from you, hips angled forward, you watched as he trailed one finger down the prominent vein residing under the shaft. In reaction you wanted to clasp your thighs together, wanted to relieve the new thrumming between your slit, but once more you found you were only to view this event, your body under his complete control.

His other hand came up and motioned your eyes back to his, finding that same purposeful energy within them, feeling like you were floating through time. “Touch yourself.”

With no contesting, your hand lifted from the bed and involuntarily went to reach between your legs. “Oh, not there,” he said, adding a finger to his slow swipes, cock twitching at his touch. “Here,” he directed, the palm of your hand sailing over the warming skin of your belly, landing on and clutching into your right breast, soon kneading it to his will.

His throat bobbed, lips parting as the sight inspired a small groan in his throat. “Mm, look how obedient you’re being. Have anything to say, officer?”

What you’d meant to do was bark you’re demented, feeling completely infringed upon as your touch wasn’t your own; though, what came out resembled more of a garbled stream on nonsense, your tongue not complying to your direction either, lying flat against your teeth as you fought to form words.

Kylo snickered to himself, taking his length in his whole hand now. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” Your hand moved to pinch your nipple, the peaked flesh stiff between your fingers, the feeling simultaneously foreign and familiar, a squeak escaping you when he forced your nails into the sensitive tissue.

“I relegated your scope of practice for your benefit,” he said, his thumb pressing into his head and collecting precum before sliding it over his blushing dick. “I’m only concerned with preserving your life, the issue of your credentials means nothing to me; so long as you have contact with other patients you are open to liabilities I can’t control.”

With his will overtaking you, you found it hard to concentrate on anything but his fist, watching him fuck himself to the sight of your body completely at his beck and call, mouth salivating as the tip glistened in the low light of the room. You tried to fight him from within, trying to summon thoughts that would barricade you from the pleasure the mere sight of him brought. Kylo could feel this, you knew, your hand cresting back over your belly until your fingers crept beneath your panties and into your folds.

When your own finger brushed over the prominent nerves, you nearly convulsed, feeling like the touch couldn’t possibly be your own. Kylo’s mouth fell open, hand moving faster along his cock, grip tightening as your own hand bid his will. Not knowing the intentions of your own body felt like you had entered a state of half-consciousness, like you were an onlooker within yourself. Was this how it felt for him? The way your fingers glided smoothly along your sex, finding how wet you had gotten for him and by him; your body was a new frontier, seeing yourself through a touch that was yours but didn’t entirely belong to you.

Still, no matter how exquisite it felt having him fuck himself while also fucking you byway of the Force, you were determined to not lose your resolve, to focus on the fact that he’d taken so much, that he didn’t trust your practice, that he’d hurt one too many people you loved; it’s what held you back from the edge, like fighting to hold onto your last breath before letting the water infiltrate your lungs, letting it rapture your body in peace, accepting its power over you.

The pressure over your tongue had left, your words back in your control now. “If this is your idea of protection, I don’t want it! I’m fine on my own in my practice; I know what I’m doing. You’d know that if you would let me off this short fucking leash.” The words were a concoction of moans, whimpers, and mewls; the sentence singsong in your pleasure.

“If that was true, how’d you get here in the first place?” His words were shaking, the sound of his strokes along with your own filling the room with vigorous, unrefined lust.

If his obvious distrust in your clinical skill hadn’t burned so entirely earlier, maybe his newest words hadn’t have stung your eyes with furious tears. This was who had given you a reason to fight to begin with, and now he was rubbing your malpractice – which saved a life – in your face, bringing you toward a climax you didn’t want to give him. Between his disregard for your career, the way he’d enveloped Mason in injury, and how entirely removed he was from everything but himself, you found yourself a prisoner in your own body; not wanting to give into him, but feeling the pressure rise in you by the second, your cunt throbbing as unbidden fingers pumped into you at his command.

“I don’t want this,” you moaned, hearing him grow closer as you were.

Through slit eyes and tight teeth, Kylo groaned, long and deep. His second hand joined the other over his cock, tightening around himself, simultaneously making your fingers press down further, pump faster until they hooked into you, your lungs stalling before he compelled you into release. A seizing rapture of nerve firings and muscle contractions brought your chest towards him, a loud, feral roar leaving him before you felt a warm fluid streak over your bare skin; it crept down your abdomen, slipped down your tits and onto your sheets. When the aftershocks wore off, so did his presence, control returning to you as you folded into yourself, arms clinging to your chest, back hunching over your crossed legs.

“That crossed a line,” you whispered, focused on the floor, warmth streaming down your cheeks as you fought back sharp heaves of breath.

In your periphery he stared at you, face red and hair sweat-stuck to his neck, shoulders tiding with his lungs. “Let it serve as a reminder, then.” He was so distant, voice almost foreign, half of you wishing it was.

“Kylo Ren gets what Kylo Ren wants—” you looked up to him with shattered eyes “—I understand. Please just leave.”

Whoever stood before you, it was someone you’d never met. Or someone you’d attempted to forget or rationalize. Either way, a stranger stared back at you, eyes black and soul missing. He collected his belt and situated himself back to decency, all the while looking at you with complete emptiness.

“The physician bore potential as a witness; if he remembered any of what we’d discussed with him there, the Board would use him against you.”

“Please.” It was barely audible, tears now streaming down your neck.

In the last frame of his face, you saw a flicker of potential humanity, the inner corners of his eyes lifting just before he turned out of the room, his steps pounding through your residence before leaving completely. As the door hissed shut in the distance you fell back on the bed, the heels of your hands digging into your sockets as a hiccuped collection of sobs and shrieks left in broken breath.

This was rock bottom. At least you hoped it was.

[ezmodo]

Mom’s Workshop

Ruby sat at her workbench, enjoying a quiet Saturday afternoon. The house was silent save for the booming bass of Grimmplosion’s latest single blasting out of the headphones that rested around her neck, the noise drowning out the happy panting of the corgi beneath her feet. The family pet luxuriated under the attention, Ruby rubbing her feet up and down the dog’s velvety belly along with each riff, playing the corgi like an electric guitar. She was still in her PJs (it was a PJs sort of day), consisting of a supremely comfy, if ratty, old shirt and equally worn pajama pants.

Crescent Rose lay disassembled before her, each part resting at its designated spot. It didn’t need maintenance - she had given her baby a thorough cleaning after returning from her mission three days ago - but it helped her visualize future upgrades. She flipped through the weapons magazine on her lap, coming back to the page she had dogeared earlier that showcased hard-light dust. She could tinker up a way to surround and reinforce her main blade to provide extra piercing power to counter the thick hide of a Goliath or maybe install a mechanism at the base of the pole that could sprout a second scythe blade to surprise human opponents! Hard-light dust was so dang cool! And so dang expensive. Too expensive for now. Maybe she could call up Weiss and ask for an early Nondescript Winter Holiday present…

The dog beneath her suddenly stirred, rolling to its feet as it stared past Ruby to the door behind her. Looking back towards the door, Ruby clicked her headphones off and listened.

tmp tmp tmp tmp tmp

Ruby smiled to herself. Somebody was finally up.

tmp tmp tmp tmP TMP TMp tmp tmp tmp

The sound of little feet went zooming past the workshop and faded as they padded further down the hall.

“Drei.”

The corgi looked up at Ruby, its entire backside wagging in anticipation.

“Fetch.”

The dog shot off like a rocket and squeezed out through the cracked door to chase down her target. Ruby placed the magazine and headphones on the table before standing to stretch. She only had to wait a moment before she could hear giggling off in the house and soon enough the tmp tmp tmp of feet approached the workshop.

Drei pushed the door the rest of the way open as the dog barged in, giving a single bark as she sat proudly at Ruby’s feet. Ruby knelt down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears in reward as the boss of the house herself came to a stop in the doorway.

Primrose Arc stood just beyond the door rubbing the last bit of sleep from her silver eyes. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a loose knot on top of her head for her nap, some bits that came loose sticking out at odd angles. She was, like her mom, still in her pajamas from the night before, a purple top and bottom Yang had gotten her that barely fit the four-year-old. ‘I Can Sleep All Day. What’s YOUR Semblance?’ it read, something that always made Ruby grin. It probably was time to retire the set, even though Prim loved everything her aunt got her - she was growing like a weed. She could practically hear Jaune correcting her in her head; like a flower he would say in that cheesy yet completely serious way that only a doting dad could that would leave the rest of the room cringing.

“Have a good nap?” Ruby asked.

“Mmhm,” the girl mumbled back. She tugged the shirt down, trying to stretch the too small shirt down to cover her stomach. Whenever she stood straight the cloth would come up, exposing her belly button.

She lingered there by the door, distracting herself by messing with her shirt but kept sneaking glances up at Ruby. The workshop was off limits to her, after all, ever since Prim had snuck in and nearly cut herself on Crescent Rose. Jaune had freaked out a tad much about that in Ruby’s opinion, but it’s not like that rule applied if Ruby or Jaune were in the room.

“C’mere sweetie,” Ruby said, extending her arms out to her daughter.

Prim crossed the room in an instant, clambering into her mother’s arms to hook her chin over Ruby’s shoulder. Ruby stood in one fluid motion, bringing the girl up with her as Drei settled down on the floor for a nap of her own.

Ruby noticed something - someone - missing. “Where’s Pete?” Ruby asked. The girl took the stuffed bunny with her everywhere. It was a hand-me-down, the very one Jaune had as a boy that his mother had patched up for her granddaughter. Ruby was surprised she still had the thing. Would she end up being that crazy?

“Daddy still needed him,” she said, nuzzling further into her mother’s neck.

Go ahead and mark her down as crazy. Prim had both of her parents wrapped around her finger and neither cared. Ruby kissed the girl on the cheek and began to sway in place as she held her daughter.

Jaune must have fallen for Prim’s naptime trap. First she asks for a story. Then, a song. And for the finishing blow, she asks you in the sweetest voice imaginable to lie with her until she falls asleep. Before you know it you wake up three hours later and you’re half falling out of her tiny bed with a serious crick in your neck. Prim would usually still be there, waking up early but playing quietly by herself or fiddling with her parent’s scroll. It was scary how a girl so little could already navigate the device as well as her mom and dad.

“That was very sweet of you,” Ruby told her. “Daddy needs all the rest he can get for his big mission tomorrow.”

“Mission?” the girl asked, tightening her arms around Ruby’s neck. “Daddy’s turn?”

“Yup,” Ruby replied, “Daddy’s turn this time. It’s a reeeaaaaal short one though.”

---

Even before Primrose was born, Ruby and Jaune knew that they both couldn’t keep going on missions together full time. Though they had a near endless line of grandparents and aunts ready and willing (some aggressively so) to look after Prim while they were out on missions, it would be unfair to their daughter to leave her without her parents for the majority of the year. And if one of them stayed home with Prim while the other was out on a mission they’d be effectively cutting their income in half. They’d built up a nice nest egg over the years but between buying a home on Patch and Prim’s birth they’d be running dry in no time with only one of them getting paid at any given time.

Jaune confessed that he had been thinking about teaching for a while now, back when they spent most of their time out on missions together, only coming home to their crummy little apartment for the occasional recharge. He had even spoken with her father and Ren, who had started teaching himself at Haven years ago, about it without her knowing. It seemed like the perfect fit - they’d have a stable home for their daughter, be able to live comfortably financially, and Ruby would be able to dial down the number of missions she had to take on so she could be home more. They’d even have a couple months out of the year when school wasn’t in session where Jaune would be able to go on the occasional mission with Ruby. Not to mention the sweet, sweet benefits that the teaching staffs of huntsman academies got to enjoy. With the second salary and the dirt cheap healthcare, they’d finally be able to start adding to their family.

Leading up to and following Prim’s birth, Jaune worked towards getting his teaching license. Academics were never his strong suit but those days he rarely went long without a book in his hand, Prim often occupying his free arm. With Ren and her dad’s old study guides and Ruby’s surprise pop quizzes keeping him sharp, the written exam didn’t even slow him down.

Huntsman experience he had in spades, easily meeting standard mission requirements. The necessary teaching hours came easily too. He bounced back and forth between Signal and Beacon to observe and assist with classes and before long was escorting Beacon teams out on their school-directed missions. He earned his teaching license before Prim’s first birthday.

But there were no open positions at Signal or even at Beacon. Headmistress Goodwitch’s glowing endorsement brought offers from several other academies on other continents, none of which they would take. Patch was their home and they planned on keeping it that way.

For the next three years they kept doing exactly what they had tried to plan against - they took turns out in the field. When Ruby was away, Jaune was home. Thankfully, when Jaune was home he had opportunities to visit Beacon for work. Glynda Goodwitch, the scourge of their short time at Beacon, had become their savior, practically inventing temporary positions and jobs for Jaune to work around the academy to further beef up his resume and earn lien on the side. Goodwitch herself would watch Prim when Jaune was working at Beacon - the headmistress adored the girl and showed a tenderness that Ruby didn’t know a woman as tough as her could possess. Naturally, Beacon’s headmistress walking around campus with a blonde baby and meeting regularly with an equally blond temp teacher led to all sorts of embarrassing rumors that made Jaune the butt of many a joke once word reached their friends.

Her dad kept assuring her that once a spot opened, Jaune was guaranteed a teaching job at Signal. The current combat teacher, a hardened old lump of a woman, was the closest in age to retirement but showed no signs of stopping. She could still swing her staff for hours on end, busting the backsides of any student who thought they could give “grandma” a run for her money.

It was frustrating. They were getting by just fine but Ruby wanted more than ‘getting by.’ It felt like she only saw Jaune in passing, only ever in the house at the same time for a few days at most before one of them had to head out on another mission. She wanted her daughter to have the normal childhood she deserved and she wanted to give her a little brother or sister, maybe more. But with not enough money in the bank, especially not enough for her to stop working entirely if she were pregnant, they had no choice but to hold their current course.

But the end was in sight. The combat crone finally decided her time teaching the future huntsmen of Remnant was over and now she could spend her twilight years relaxing by traveling Remnant...with some Faunus dude young enough to be her grandson, according to her dad. Good going, granny.

So finally, finally, Jaune would get her spot. Tomorrow he’d board the bullhead to Argus to spend a week at Sanctum for a final assessment. He’d take the role of a full professor - teaching classes, grading papers, counseling students, the whole shebang, all while being observed by a third party. They had gone with Sanctum because it was a school he’d never visited before and they didn’t want to give the impression that he’d gotten the job at Signal based off family connections. Not that it mattered, really. Goodwitch said it was mostly formality at this point and, even if it weren’t, Ruby knew Jaune would pass with flying colors.

Professor Arc would soon be born and more Arcs would follow.

---

Ruby hummed happily as she shared an impromptu dance around the workshop with her daughter. In a week’s time things would be settled. She wondered if Prim would understand - as far as her daughter was concerned, Daddy already was a teacher.

Prim was fully awake now, sitting up taller in her mother’s arms. Ruby could feel her head turn this way and that depending on which way she danced and realized just what the girl was looking at. Ruby came to a stop in front of the workbench and watched as Prim shifted in her arms to get a better look at the disassembled Crescent Rose.

She’d worked on Crescent Rose in front of Prim before and it was hard to miss how enraptured the girl was with the process, asking an endless string of childish questions. Ruby couldn’t help the pride that bubbled up in her chest. Her daughter was on the road to becoming a weapon nerd.

“Wanna help Mommy put Crescent Rose back together?”

“I can?” the girl asked, eyes still glued to the weapon.

“Yup. But,” Ruby said, turning the girl to make sure they were looking each other in the eye. “You can only touch when I say you can. Okay?”

“Kay!” she exclaimed excitedly, rocking back and forth in her mother’s arms.

Laughing, Ruby nudged the chair closer to the table and set her daughter down, letting her stand on the seat. Prim immediately leaned forward, placing her hands on the table to get a better look. Her eyes darted from part to part, never able to stay still for long.

Ruby took her place next to Prim and placed a steadying hand on the girl’s back.

“Okay,” Ruby said, taking the upper receiver and bringing it closer for the girl to see. “What’s this?”

“The…” Prim paused, wracking her tiny brain for the made up word Ruby had taught her before. “Thingamabob!”

Ruby sucked air dramatically through her teeth in an exaggerated wince. “Oooo, so close! This is the thingamajig! This part over here is the thingamabob…”

Jaune slept most of the afternoon away while mother and daughter rebuilt Crescent Rose. One day Ruby would teach her the real names for each part and watch Prim put it back together again without help. Ruby might even, if Prim decided to follow her mother’s footsteps even further, help her build a weapon of her own. Or maybe she’d change her mind somewhere along the way and pick up some other calling, possibly something Ruby didn’t know the first thing about. 

Ruby couldn’t wait to find out.

[perfecttimemachinestranger]

The Visitor (FIC, M/F, T)

The Visitor

Summary: Grand Moff Tarkin suddenly wakes up on board an alien warship. What can the Chiss and their attractive Admiral possibly want from him?

Notes: I enjoy linguistics and it was a disappointment to me to find out how abysmal the Cheunh vocabulary is in canon. Thus, for the purposes of this story, I’ve relied on the fan-created Coruscant translator, found here: http://starwars.myrpg.org/coruscant_translator.php

Finally, my warm thanks to Cassandra1 for the beta work.

…ran’cuzo nah vav… nah bekavcim’i…

His sense of hearing returns before his eyesight. The incomprehensible gibberish his captors use for a language is mostly composed of mumbling and hisses, but the intonation sounds familiar. He guesses their origin even before hearing that one voice he recognizes. Thrawn. The blue devils. He is pleased to have been proven right regarding the so-called Grand Admiral’s loyalties.

As his senses and his strength slowly return, he bides his time. Let them think him helpless, weakened, vulnerable. He awaits the perfect moment.

Tarkin’s only thought as his fist connects with the traitor’s jaw is how sublime the sound is. The action itself is extremely satisfying. The pain catches up with him a few seconds later and although he knows, he is not prepared for it. It hurts now, much worse than he remembers from his younger years. Still, that pain is nothing in comparison with the anger that explodes in his head at Thrawn’s indifference. The blue bastard is just standing there, watching with mild interest as Tarkin nurses his bruised hand. It’s almost infuriating enough to rouse him into another attack.

He springs again and this time, the alien recoils.

Breakfast is served by the usual young male, but he is flanked by two guards with faces of stone – one male, one female. Thrawn doesn’t show up until after the next meal. The alien’s chin bears no evidence of fighting. His own hand is still sore.

“Allow me to welcome you on board the warship Cart’tusah, Governor.”

“You’ll understand if I don’t share your enthusiasm for my visit. What do I even call you now?” With the alien in the black uniform that is apparently his correct attire, Tarkin will no longer maintain the absurd pretence of them ever serving on the same side.

“My rank within the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet is undecided at present. I suggest you address me by my name.”

”Very well, Thrawn. This seems to be the moment where I ask to be taken to your leader. Whoever that is.”

“I will take you to her.”

The Chiss commander is a formidable woman. Stern-looking, tall, with a chiselled face to rival his own. She stares at him, just like they all do. For a while he just stands there, giving her the same treatment, but he cannot take it perpetually.

“What is the purpose of this?” He throws up his hands. “I do commend Thrawn here on his treachery – he succeeded in duping us all!”

She shows no sign of understanding his words, but she gives a nod, and Thrawn speaks.

“Curiosity.”

“What?”

“The purpose of your visit, governor Tarkin, is to satisfy curiosity. Admiral Ar’alani wishes to acquaint herself with a human.”

“And she has not come across any before? I remember the stories you told, about the first human visitors to your people. Not to mention your own entourage; you could have picked one of them.” He mutters. “As if there aren’t enough alien-loving fools around who’d have jumped at the opportunity to –“

“None of the others held her interest.”

“Is that what I am? A superior specimen?”

“She finds you intriguing. And very capable of what she has in mind.” There is no mistaking the suggestive glance, from both of them. Thrawn adds, lifting an elegant eyebrow, “Procreation is the acceptable term, I believe?”

“I guess I’m supposed to be flattered. No offense to you, madam, but I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

The notion that he has been abducted to serve as some sort of stud is ridiculous. It is so far-fetched that he should immediately dismiss it as a ruse to keep him away from the war. Or the Chiss indeed know nothing of human biology.

The admiral gives a soft hiss that Thrawn translates with a question. “Why?”

“Men of my age seldom sire children. The possibility is there, but no guarantee.”

“My apologies,” Thrawn hurries to say, instead of relaying the reply to his superior. “My previous translation was inaccurate. The admiral wishes to sleep with you for entertainment purposes. For pleasure,” he corrects himself.

“Do I look like some young stag willing to jump into bed at any opportunity?”

To his surprise, she doesn’t laugh as his reply is translated. Rather, her gaze becomes more intense, her mouth opening slightly. She appears almost excited.

His eyes widen at the low growl emanating from deep in her throat. If he has initially doubted her interest, there is no doing so now. He wonders for a moment what her hair would feel like to run between his fingers or grab in his fist. Reluctantly, he admits to wanting to hear her make that sound again.  

Thrawn’s translation is utter unnecessary. “The admiral values experience.”

“She does, now. Tell her I appreciate the offer, but no.” Flattering as it is, he has a war to fight. Did she honestly think the Grand Moff would gladly leave his duty for this?

“I have my duty to attend to,” he adds before the translation is complete. “A duty to my people, and its ruler.” This seems to catch her attention, and he adds for good measure: “I must do this before I can think of pleasure.”

“The admiral’s wish is above your orders,” Thrawn says. She considers your temporary removal a small sacrifice for your Empire in comparison with the gains received from my service.”

“Not an offer, but an order? It’s regrettable, but I don’t perform well under duress.” The lie crosses his lips casually enough, but it grates on him. “This is a common biological feature in humans, not a personal flaw,” he adds.

This time she smiles.

“You have been appointed as adviser to Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn states. “This is an honour and you will serve under her on board this vessel for the foreseeable future.”

“You must release me immediately!” He’s on the verge of blowing up again. “I’m not some disposable lieutenant. I have friends in high places. Kidnapping the Grand Moff, and at the height of our triumph! The Emperor needs me.”

“Perform well, and your friends will one day find you miraculously rescued.” She smiles briefly, then her expression hardens again. “Continue to disrupt the Ascendancy’s plans, and you will perish like your Empire already believes you have.” She gives a curt nod and a young girl of perhaps ten years comes forward to stand beside her.

This is too much. “Do you keep children onboard to gawk at strangers?”

The admiral hits him fast, hissing something harsh, making not only the child fade a fraction. Her strength is considerable.

“You will not insult the Ozyly-esehembo,” Thrawn offers mildly. “The girl is our navigator. You may thank her.”

“For what? Becoming your guest?” He spits it and sees the admiral’s hand twitch.

“For your life. She convinced the admiral to act at this precise moment, thereby preventing your premature demise.”

“I would be in perfect health without your intervention.”

“The Death Star is no more. I am sorry,” Thrawn says, bowing with that perfect deference that grates on his bones.  

He cannot be sorry. If indeed the Death Star has been blown out of existence – a catastrophe of too large a magnitude to imagine – Thrawn would be smiling with glee, as he surely has done behind Tarkin’s back, conspiring with his compatriots ever since the beginning. How has the Emperor not seen this?

He purses his lips. “If this is true, I gather the funding for your TIE Defender programme has just been secured. That is, if you intend to go back.” He doesn’t even try to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Governor, the destruction of the DS-1 is the deed of the rebels. The exiled remnant of the Alderaan cell.” There isn’t a hint of accusation in Thrawn’s calm voice. There needn’t be; they both know that the alien never approved of using the station’s power.

At night it hurts. Without his magnificent weapon to back it up, the Tarkin Doctrine, his legacy, is impotent, a shrivelled husk of the power it once was. Is this heavenly justice then? An almost-moon for a planet, all his colleagues, subordinates, his career blown to dust in revenge for an act too powerful for the very universe to tolerate?

He cannot thank the child.

Entertaining the admiral isn’t the chore he expected it to be, and he finds he has no difficulty at all performing. She is eager, responsive, and adventurous in ways that encourage him not only to bring his entire repertoire into play but to be inventive as well. With no language in common, they rely heavily on the fragments they do know. ‘Yes’ and ‘no’ go a long way. She talks a lot. After a while some words become familiar to him. She laughs when he repeats them to her.

Each time, afterwards, he asks her for permission to leave and she says no. It’s his first word in Cheunh and she says it so brutally. With time, he grows a little less interested in the answer. He keeps asking; this is their ritual.

He takes notes of everything on board – the instruments, the actions of the crew, the objectives of their journeys when she cares to share them with him. By day it’s all in his head; at night he scribbles. Until he realises. What she is showing him, all this knowledge, the Empire already has, in Thrawn. Is this what she is doing? Proving what her people has already given to his, with a reward in mind, or perhaps to eventually offer an alliance of some sort?

She shares his bed even when all she wants is to sleep. It is comforting, sleeping next to someone. Why did he never marry?

The black uniform is where he draws the line. It is of a dashing design; it is neither practicality nor looks that deter him from donning it.

One day in the mess hall he sees the girl again, the navigator with the title he can now identify as sky-walker. He is reminded of his immature behaviour towards her at their previous meeting and his need to change her impression of him. She is almost sacred and as an outsider he isn’t allowed to approach her, but he is lucky. She stares at him from afar, then comes to his side as he eats. It takes him a while to notice her presence; he only does so when the others lay their cutlery down to stare at her with polite interest.

She says nothing, but her small hand, as she lays it on top of his, feels like a jolt of power. It takes all his will not to snatch it back but let it rest on the table.

“Thank you,” he says. It comes out as barely a whisper, and he repeats it, over and over until she removes her hand and he feels like a fool. Whatever did he do that for? He turns away with a clenched jaw, then gazes up at her again. She looks back with a shy smile.

“I like you,” she says. “You’re funny.”

He smiles back – he cannot help it – then schools his features into a more dignified expression. The others have started eating again and thankfully, the episode is never mentioned.

That morning, Ar’alani is the one asking.

“Do you want to leave, Wilhuff?” Her pronunciation of his name is a little off, much like his entire vocabulary. He knows most of the officers’ names now, but much of the rest of it still sounds like hissing and mumbling if he doesn’t concentrate. He will never speak their language well. Only his r’s are perfection; this she told him already on their first night, even if he didn’t learn that until much later.

“I think so,” he replies, flabbergasted. “Yes, please.” His old life, his responsibilities, the power, the way they all depend on him and his word is law. Somehow, he’s already dismissed the possibility of that ever happening. His release. Suddenly he’s not so sure.

“Stay, Wilhuff,” she says. “You would be within your rights to retire, or you could become my adviser officially.”

He sighs. “No, Ar’alani. My duty and my loyalty must come first.” This is much harder to say than he ever thought it could be. Maybe there is a way back again, after the war, if he is released from service. Maybe there isn’t, and he must only be thankful for what was.

Four years. His time onboard the Chiss warship has felt like an eternity at times, yet there is always something new to learn. The vast expanses of space call to him much more than a desk, however elevated his position.  He should have expected his universe to change in that time, yet his belief in the Empire’s victory never wavered. The news delivered by the scout ship is a blow out of nowhere. “There is nothing,” Thrawn declares solemnly. “My condolences.”

“This must be some kind of mistake, of mis-navigation.”

“No. Your Emperor is dead. There is no successor.”

He has thought about it before. What to do in case the Empire he returns to is not the one he left. It mostly boils down to Sheev. To loyalty and honour. He has not considered a world where the Empire doesn’t exist.

“Turn around. Cso-sn’ah ses-vi-o’-ah.” He repeats it with excruciating thoroughness, but the crew understood the first time. “And bring the uniform.”

[sayofchains88]

Chapter Nine: Dawn and Midnight Paranoia by OrangeLetters88~

"Were going to be meeting two famous late night talk show hosts of Midnight Paranoia, plus we doing a pact with them because it is very hard to get one scheduled with them." Steele shouts excited more than usual.

"Sounds nice to me, getting out would be really nice after the ordeal I went through." He replies nervously shaking. She puts her hands on his to get them to stop. "Sorry...I am not okay. Now were okay. I mean I feel better, but I feel for now I still feel scared. I...I was so scared Steel!"

She tips his head on her shoulder. "I am so sorry it took so long to find you. We almost had no leads. Forgive me."

"No...you are fine. I forgive them, but they really messed with me. I want to hate them so badly, but I can't...everyone is so messed up inside I realize now." He places his palm on face trying to not to cry.

"Shhh...it's okay Alex...this is not something to come out of easily. What happened became your life for what was a month. A lesser man would be destroyed by this, but you came out on top." Steel says trying to comfort him.

"What's worse is Alice barely recognizing me. It was a nightmare and I tried so hard to ignore it because if I did try to convince her I would surely go mad..." He pours his heart. It is so heavy with grief. " I have a trouble looking at blood right now. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I can't tell anyone."

"Alex, calm down please! I promise you are safe now and we will take care of you on the trip okay?" Steel almost in tears from seeing Alex lost in what happened. "Please...calm down."

"I will be okay..." Alex replies upset breathing in and out slowly holding his chest with eyes closed. Christian comes out stretching his arms.

"I couldn't sleep. You two are out are early this morning." He said yawning.

"Christian...I have one request of you and Alice please..."

"Yeah, what's up man?" Christian responds confused.

"Never call me Master. I mean never ever never! I am no one's master." He replies miserably.

"You are brother, my bud, my mentor, my friend. After all the bullshit we been through I am sure you see us as equals." Christian responds lighting a cigarette.

"When did you start smoking?"

"I always have, but with everything I picked it back up due to stress. I have never had to be a detective before. You know the best part is when we couldn't make a perfect plan..." Christian explains slightly muffled with the cig in his mouth pointing to his head. "I thought well think like Alex and walk in like at Coopers."

"I should expect that...I am not really a good influence, am I?"

"No brother, you teach me to put it forward. Life isn't like some movie on the big screen, but I am sure you learned that pretty quickly as well." Christian counters taking another hit of the cigarette before putting it out. "Most of all I missed you and Alice. I was by myself even though I am with Mars, but it just felt empty is all."

"He wouldn't stop chain smoking. Had a hard time to get him to go hunting for prey or taking blood. He was much too worried."

"Steel, shhh. I have had blood since then. I knew if I got weak I couldn't help you Alex..." Christian says a little embarrassed. "Anyways we will be leaving soon. I volunteered switches with Clarence for driving since it's awhile away."

"Where is Colleen at?" Alex questions.

"Because of you she wants to make good on her life with her human father. We will see her when she is back..." Steel confirms.

Mars comes out with a backpack full of clothes running to the car. Alice follows behind with a small suit case and Clarence carrying a full carry on with wheels at the bottom. "You guys are much too excited." Steel laughs recalls she hasn't fully packed her bags and darts to the room.

Alex sluggishly makes his way to the room he was staying to pack. "Alex, please package the vials of blood? They will only last a day so we need a scrubber and insert brushes to wash them as well!" Alice shouts from the doorway.

After he packs he makes his way to the storage room. He takes a deep breathe seeing the vials packed in a long square of ten on the rack. The bubble wrap in squares to the side in a rogue box that is tilting.

His hands shake; he brings his hand to chin wondering if he should say he is busy and needs someone else to get the vials. Some reason he can feel himself hyperventilate the closer he gets. He stoops as he tries to pull it together, but passes out.

Moments later he is looking up at Steel who came too late. "Don't tell anyone Steel. I got to find a way to get over this. I feel like a failure of a vampire now."

She helps him get up on his feet dusting him off. She wraps the vials and sticks them in a sealed box to keep them from view. "I should have gotten the vials instead of you. I knew, but was a little per-occupied."Steels says blushing.

"I will think I will just wait in the car." He gets in the car taking the window spot so he could lean into the window. The car ride is hard on him due to being trapped in a small space. He tells himself it's only temporary.

Half way there they stop to get gas and stretch. Steel walks when she is pushed by a robber, she does a quick back flip kicking him on his butt with just a push of her leg and snatching him by the back of jacket.  

The lady comes out shocked. "Are you a performer?" She says on the cell phone with the police.

"I accidentally did that on reflex, but glad you are safe at least." Steel replies nervously. Steel hands money for the fuel and takes off before any cops come.

"Why are we popping off so fast? Shouldn't we wait to take report?" Christian questions Steel who seemed guilty driving off.

"Most of the cops in this area are already suspicious of vampires. I tend forget you are new, but never stay long in any area...one knows me very well. I am not looking forward to seeing him."

"Oh...so what happens if they realize you are vampire?" Christian replies even more curious.

"We will never be able to retrieve you. We call these cases clean cut disappearances even though we know what they are. Usually they become brainwashed slaves like K-9. They have their own case squad once identified."

Christian shivered at the thought of it. Alex covers his head with hands. Alice semi wraps her arms around him when she observes him dunking into his arms. He looks at her with a smile. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just can't wait till we get there is all."

"The smell of new blood is enticing." Clarence interrupts envisioning causing him to slick his back.

"Calm down Romeo. Not even there yet and you are already thinking about it." Steel says pinching his arm.

"I can't help it; fresh blood tastes better than old blood for me...I also can't eat food like some of you!" Clarence points out to Steel. She pulls in to a hotel. Their room is a shared with four beds, two to each room.

"We have rules when I do trips. We travel in pairs, when we meet Joshua and Alan we will all be together. This town is huge and known for kidnappings and killings due to the high volume of tourists it gets down here! "Steel lays down the rules for Alex's group.

Mars looks around a little till he takes notice of Clarence gone. "Steel, your man is gone."

"He what?" Steel shouts running out the door with her card key. Mars ends up laughing before stopping.

"Christian, want to get a bite with me?" Mars asks kicking his feet out. Christian gets his jacket on his way out patting Alex's head. Alice follows behind leaving Alex in the joint room by himself.

He drops on the bed face first with his hands out. "I don't want to be here...I don't know where I want to be..."

The television flickers on by itself. "Hello my name Joshua! And my name is Alan! This is Midnight Paranoia. We got back from break so let's start at new caller. Hello who is this? What exactly have you come here for today?"

"Hi, umm well you see well first off my name Dawn. I am right outside your door Alex..."

Alex scrambles to open the door. "Hello Alex. It's been a very long time. I knew you were coming."

He shuts the door behind hearing it click behind, but also knows Mars and Steel have the keys.

"Dawn, what's going on? Why now?"

"Because..." She said giving him a small kiss on the lips. "I saw a vision something bad is going to happen in the town. I need your help."

"My book is inside...I accidentally locked myself out." He cries. "Also how did you do that? Vampires can't do that? Can they?"

"Before I became a vampire I was on my way to becoming a witch so I know a little up my sleeve, but it's slowly fading. I am out of practice now. Being a vampire already expands most of my energy..." Dawn replies.

She takes his hand and runs. "Where are we going?"

"To Midnight Paranoia, I have tickets for the backdoor bang!"

"Backdoor bang, what in the world is being carried out at something called backdoor bang?

"It's literally where we drink blood and chill. Come on like old times!" She says when he drops her hand. He stands still; he expresses horror instead of interest.

"Look right now I am not hungry; I will go sniff my clan mates out." He replies walking the other direction.

"How can you not be hungry in this place? It is a paradise of human tourists. What happened to you?

"I don't want to go into it today Dawn. Maybe another time..."

"I mean you are locked out anyways. Just come and join me." Dawn laughed.

He gives up and comes with her after much pleading. It seems maybe she just missed his presence. The hotel was surprisingly not far from the late night crowds of college students on spring break shouting at the DJ who making beats literally on a cherry picker. Strobe lights, party lights and beams of colored lights mixing and matching with each other in the chaos of weed smokers, bongs and dancers.

The whole scene is a wild affair to Alex. You could not tell a human from a vampire in this display of madness. He wondered if Steel and Clarence was attracted to these events and why?

Walking through the crowds he would spot some people looking directly at him before glancing away. Making it to a back door, walls covered for soundproof from the outside. Dawn flashes the tickets.

Two twins sit there with their legs crossed in position from each other. They are dressed down in silk blouses and black leather pants. Their sexuality there on display pouring blood from a large label-less bottle tinted green.

"I am Joshua! Welcome to the backdoor bang. Judging your boyfriends expression he never been here before or been anywhere like living a den..." He says examining Alex before lighting up a cigarette.

"Oh no he isn't a boyfriend, but why do you say?" Dawn says laughing taking a seat.  

"My name is Alan and lately we just get horny groupie girls. It's nice to see an actual fellow vampire want to drink with us."

"No one suspects?" Alex asks. Alan lights his bong reclining back.

"We pay them off. They don't care about us or the show plus we get ton of girls who would volunteer to give us blood anyways. The heat of the moment gets them off ya know?" Joshua replies proud. "But we will never turn them. No matter how much they beat on me. Their yells of disappointment often echo late into the morning when we tell them, but no one hears their pains."

"Share a drink with us!" Alan says giving them wine glasses. Alex pushes his glass away. Dawn gladly accepts. "Come on...it's not every day or is there another reason?"

"N-nothing is wrong. I just am not feeling it." Alex almost stutters. Joshua gets up touching his face.

"Those black rings tell me otherwise. You had been starving yourself, but most likely only a couple days at most."

"There is something you don't want to talk about?" Dawn questions never noticing.

"Hey I am not judging, but most vampires go into a rage by default without it."

"I am sorry; I can't be here at the moment. Thank you for the hospitality. Good day Dawn." With that Alex makes his way out the door to get a breath of fresh air. He walks around to sit at the tables further away from the crazy club in front a local bar and radio DJ station.

Not drinking blood has made him feel weak, he could practically see a female tourists veins. Her sweet smell enticing as a flower in the full bloom in the noon sun, she walks away when someone practically knocks him over.

"Clarence! Put the bottle down already!" Steel shouts pissed.

"Steel!" Alex stands up catching Clarence drunk off his ass. He settles down. His head tips forward. He drops the wine smashing the bottle against the hard cement.

"He has been getting drunk like a mad man throwing him off his straight game. The prey isn't even hard prey. Girls are easily swayed for well-dressed onlookers."

"Let's bring him back to the hotel."

A crowd screams, the cherry picker knocks on to its side wrecking expensive equipment along the way. A couple people are pinned under the cherry picker. The DJ seems to be breathing on the ground. People are frantically on their cells calling for 911.

"We need to get back now. We shouldn't interfere in human affairs plus you are in no condition to help them yourself."

They drive back to the hotel. Getting inside it seems they are all alone. Mars, Christian and Alice seem to be out still. Steel loosens Clarence's tie tossing it on the floor with his gloves and setting his jacket on the chair.

Steel sits down in the chair beside Clarence. "Look Alex we need to talk about this food avoidance problem."

"Steel...please."

"No, I need you to talk to me. What can I do for you? You can't keep it up forever."

She hands him a small vial. Alex looks up at her not wanting to deal with this subject. He opens the vial shaking downing a small amount before it comes back up making him run to the sink. Steel pats his back sympathetic.

"Edwin and Joseph did really horrible things to you did they?"

His eyes began to tear up as he lifts his facing the mirror. "I want to forget...I just need time Steel. Hopefully it clears up soon. I will drink soon I promise, but please don't force me anymore." Alex bows his head over the sink.

"Don't overdo it. We need to meet people in a couple days' time. Stay healthy Alex..."

Clarence stumbles over to the bathroom. "I-I am o-only a little drunk Steel my love..." before throwing up everything in his stomach on the floor. Steels dress now covered in throw up and blood.

"You bastard, this is one of my favorite dresses!" She says pulling him over the toilet seat pulling back his hair. Alex helps hold up Clarence. Mars, Christian and Alice come back plopping down on the beds.

Alice walks over to help Steel with Clarence who is evidently very drunk back to his bed. He will continue to sleep deep through the night and most of the day to recover.

Day two and takes Clarence almost all day to recover. He wakes up being forced into shower and brushing teeth to clean up. He irons his blazer and makes sure his white gloves are pressed to perfection. His pants have to be cleaned; he has to change his shirt under causing him a bit of panic.

"You are such a neat freak for someone who got that shit faced last night." Christian laughs while he irons out wrinkles.

"Don't make fun of me. I need to be dressed and ready to go. My suit is my whole personality. It is my intimidation tactic."

A knock on the door has Alex look first. He notes it is Dawn again. "Looks like my nightly activity has arrived so looks like I will be out a little. Don't wait for me!" Alex says nervously squeezing the door.

This time he takes her hand running down the corridors and down the elevator. He huffs after they get far. "I wanted to say sorry about before..."

"Nothing to be sorry about, I just have a lot going on in my mind."

They walk together just catching till she stops. "Look...I have something you tell you."

Alex pushes her out of the way throwing himself in front of the arrow. He cries out, a man comes from the shadows. "I am guessing you mean this is what you wanted to warn about..."

The man dressed in olive green shirt with leather jacket and dusty jeans. Forcefully takes the arrow out. Dawn gets in front with her hands out. "Darren, I thought we discussed you need to stop aiming it recklessly."

"Oh I see..."He said pacing around Alex. "She hasn't told you has she?"

"He needs help you jackass! Can't this wait another time?"

"No, that arrow was edged blade so he is probably going to die if he bleeds anymore, but at least he will know."

"Know..what?" Alex grunts on the ground leaning against Dawn holds his arm where the bladed arrow unwillingly was taken.

"She is labeled a traitor." He said aiming another arrow into his leg. "She killed pappy, his ashy corpse a symbol of our operation not too long from here."

"Darren...stop please..."

"Stop what? You almost got him when he went into the backdoor bang session, but he decided to leave."

"Wait...that was a rigged operation then, you and Dawn...I..." Alex gets up with a severe limp.

"But we can no longer let you leave because we have told you about the rig. Why do you think it's not common for vampire to go to backdoor bangs?"

Alex darts for it even though his chances small he would survive. "I will not be held captive again. I would much rather die."

Darren launches another arrow into his back sending him to the ground. "That explains a lot."

Another arrow is fired and caught. "And here I thought fang hunters were only a legend." Clarence states holding the arrow between his fingers, walking forward he grabs hold of Alex.

"How long were you standing there?"

"I just got here. What do kids call it these days? Spidey senses?" His clear his voice with a smile. Dawn hides behind Darren. "But I know enough that you are Alex's old clan mate..."

"You aren't a normal vampire..."

"No I am not. What do you plan to do about it?"

Clarence walks away slowly with Alex limped over his shoulders. Instead of acting out Darren stays in position, Dawn tries to walk behind. Clarence throws his hand out holding a calling card and letting it drift to the ground.

They get back into the door. "Why are you out without Steel?" Alex asks in pain.

"We had a fight. She went with the rest bar hopping. Stop asking me stupid questions! I should be asking why you were alone and with a fang hunter!"

He rips the arrows out and scissors away his clothes allowing for a temporary dressing. Clarence hands Alex two vials of blood after he gets dressed in new top and bottom. "Lately you been acting stubborn, but this no time for that. Blood will help you heal faster."

He downs them immediately holding his mouth so he doesn't throw up allowing it to go down he can feel come back up through his throat, before long everyone is getting back through the door when he throws it up passing out.

Steel runs to Alex. "Why is he covered in bandages?"

"We need to cancel the plans for the meet. This town is full of fang hunters. Alex was lured by a bait vampire..." Clarence explains. Alex lifts his hand.

"I am not out of it. It was just a second...my old clan member killed Pappy."

He gets up leaning into the wall. Alice touches his shoulders lightly. "At least you learned who it was..."

"I have to face Dawn and the fang hunter before this is all over. I suggest everyone pack their stuff." Alex shouts. "We will find a lower standing motel further in the meantime."

"You won't be alone this time. We are all in this together." Clarence confides.

"After what happened we all know you are having a hard time dealing with some issues Alex...you don't have to hide them anymore..." Christian softly replies.

Alex turns around to face them. "I am your mentor Alex! I would never let something get worse well worse than the last situation..."

Mars starts to pack everything up. "I will be your drive. I have not really activated my serpent entity, but more than willing to do my part."

"I have an idea where the ashes are...but now they know of us...they aren't going to play pretty." Alex hobbles over to his phone.

"You nearly got killed. You can barely move! What do you plan to do?" Clarence asks confused.

"That's why I am bait...but you have to trust me."

They packed up making their way to the location Alex pinned as Pappy's place of death. Holding his book on his lap, when they make to the forest edge Alex waves Mars on away from the location.

He staggers to the location. The ground a char black mark in the grass, but the ash long since has been done with rain. "Even when wounded you still tried to find it." Alan says laughing from high in to the treetops.

Joshua and Alan block his way to move. They know he can't run far. "We already know you were picked next in line for vampire leader." Darren states. He slowly walks in holding Dawn with his hands around her neck.

"I already knew you would come. I decided to settle it my way. A single vampire is fruitless. Intimidation depends on sexiness and sometimes on looks even were just cute. I realized I have none of these so I need to rely on my wits." Alex responds pointing at his head. "Plus I came to save Dawn."

A tire wrench hits Alan in the back of the head knocking him out. Clarence comes from behind like the suave man he is. Grasping Joshua's neck from behind, Steel's steel traps are now visible locking them all in.

"Why would you want to save a traitor?" Joshua asks kneeling in front of Alan.

"Everyone deserves a second chance Joshua...vampires of offspring of the sinned of Lilith therefore we bare her cross. Humans are sins of their God. Dawn deserves freedom..."

Alex explains, his flashbacks of how he could kill Edwin and Joseph, but their deeds were mis-understood. They deserved their own happiness despite his suffering.

"You act as though hunting vampire for their fangs is any better." Clarence replies.

Steel positions herself behind Darren bringing her steel strings to his neck till he lets go of Dawn. He activates the crossbow with the customized steak firing into Dawns back. He loads another from his position going clear through her chest.

She reaches for Alex from the ground before her body slowly forms to ash. "Dawn..." He becomes enraged pushing his way to Darren breaking the steel string completely knocking over Steel from her trap unwinding the arena tossing Christian from a nearby tree.

His elongated nails digging into Darren's throat, about to slash his stomach open Steel gets in front taking the hit. His nails sink into her chest. "Remember your humanity, that's what you taught me..."

He snaps out of it catching Steel who loses consciousness. Clarence kicks Darren down making him drop his weapon.  Alan and Joshua seem to back on their feet. "You must feel so proud being baiters..."

Christian and Clarence make their way to the car fast after Alex signals. From the distance Alex watches Dawns body's ashes catch to the wind. His vision fades.

He wakes up in Steels house and walks to the med bay. "Clarence...how is Steel?"

"Steel is fine. You didn't dig too deeply. She has been receiving full care so she will be okay." Clarence says happily.

"I don't know what came over me."

"Grief...grief came over you and that is okay. Killing the fang hunter would not have brought Dawn back. Steel was right to intervene."

"Yeah...while Steel is healing Christian and Alice need to settle last humanely affairs back in their town then we will back here. Please take care of Mars till were back. It shouldn't be long."

"No worries, it about time they realize this is their life now..."

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/269037735/write/1067834117 Please support my works at wattpad if you like please~

[raendown]

@mouseymightymarvellous I hear your cries for more same age au and I deliver, with pleasure my dear. 

Pairing: KakashiSakura Word count: 2744 Summary: Growing up together means changing together and Kakashi has always seen her from afar.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

When We Were Young

i.

She was soft and too pink and Kakashi hated her. How was he ever meant to become a great ninja and erase the stain of his father’s name if he couldn’t even be paired with decent teammates? He’d thought since Obito and Rin were both sick his temporary team might be better, might have stronger members that would help him grow instead of hold him back like usual. This was not what he had expected.

As if the rambunctious blonde who failed to catch him in a poorly concealed trap when he arrived wasn’t enough, the idiot pink-haired girl moping off to one side was a whole different story of terrible. Upon discovering that he would be standing in for “Sasuke-kun” today she had all but folded in half with disappointment and the already incorrect grip she had on her kunai had fallen out of place even more. Kakashi sniffed in her direction, thoroughly disappointed. These two were barely ninjas and would probably never make it past genin. Was the blond one really Sensei’s son?

For the entire day of training under the strangely emotionless Sai-sensei, all that Haruno Sakura did was compare him to her precious Sasuke-kun. She spoke of the boy constantly and told Kakashi how in love she was three times in just the first hour. By the end he was ready to stab both her and the poor idiot who obviously didn’t like her back.

And why should he? There was nothing to like; there was no substance to her. Sakura’s feet stood for Sasuke, her arms lifted for Sasuke, her heart beat for Sasuke. There was not a single part of her that fought for her own sake and Kakashi couldn’t stand the weakness of it. Didn’t she realize that love would break her? He would have pitied her if he could be bothered with the emotion but it was much easier to dismiss all three of these useless people from his mind.

When Kakashi left training he left his thoughts of Sakura behind him. He went back to Obito and Rin, still just as useless but at least a kind of useless he could work with. He went back to Minato-sensei, the strongest shinobi he had ever met who he just knew would cave and teach him the hiraishin one of these days. If he didn’t then Kakashi would just have to learn how to be faster by himself.

 ii.

He was broken when she found him and even if he didn’t know it then this was only the first time that she would put him back together. She led him back to the fading light with whispers of hope, of Obito surviving, of a surgery gone well. Kakashi felt like she was pulling his head above the water and giving him air to breathe when for a minute he’d forgotten how.

Later it would shame him that he’d forgotten her so quickly in the moment, although she always insisted that she didn’t blame him. He was only twelve and the only friend he’d never even realized he had was alive, alive, alive. Obito was breathing despite odds. His arm would never be the same again and his leg had been amputated but his heart was beating steadily as Kakashi collapsed across his chest and wept like he hadn’t since his father had been alive.

Only after the storm had passed and he sat wiping at his face in embarrassment did a very tired Rin murmur quietly that it was all thanks to Sakura-chan.

“She did what I couldn’t,” his teammate told him with a hitch in her breath. “You both did. I was no help; I never am. But you brought him home and Sakura-chan brought him back to life and I just stood there like a stupid lump!”

“You’re not useless, Rin.” She looked at him like she’s never seen him before and Kakashi found that somehow more embarrassing than crying in front of her. “It was my fault the both of you were in danger in the first place. Obito was brave. And so were you. Both of you are always…really brave.”

Brave for facing the emotions that he’d never been able to face before. What he had always seen as a weakness they used as a strength and that was something he admired. Minato-sensei had been trying to teach him for years the truth about teamwork but it had taken him until now to get it. A team was not built on the back of whoever was strongest. No, a team was built on the strength of all of its members, every person bringing a skill to the table to cover the weaknesses of others and create an impenetrable unit.

He found the one he was looking for slumped over and sleeping on a bench. Sakura was only twelve years old, just the same as he was, but she had assisted with a seven hour surgery after being awoken in the middle of the night and she must have been very tired. Instead of disturbing her, Kakashi sniffed out the closest linen closet and brought her a blanket. It settled over her like the peace settling in his chest, a feeling he wasn’t familiar with. Fitting, he thought. The whole world around him looked unfamiliar now.

“Thank you.” He left his words as a whisper in her ear before disappearing down the hallway back to Obito’s room, not bothering to check over his shoulder to see bright green eyes fluttering awake.

 iii.

Obviously he heard about Tsunade. The whole village had heard about Tsunade. She was sort of hard to miss as she came marching down the streets of Konoha bellowing, “Bring me your prodigy!” as though she hadn’t abandoned the village years ago.

Kakashi didn’t find out the context for this until late that night, huddled behind the academy with Rin and Obito, trading sips from a can of red bean tea. That was when Rin told him with only the shadow of jealously in her voice that the Lady Tsunade had returned to Konoha to chase the rumors of a medical prodigy.

She was here to apprentice Haruno Sakura.

Turning this information over in his mind slowly, Kakashi contemplated what he should say to that. She deserved it, in his opinion. If not for her Obito wouldn’t be sitting beside him wearing a prosthetic leg, tired from a long day of physical therapy. On the other hand, she wasn’t who his loyalty was owed to.

“Well you’ll just have to show her that there are two prodigies in the Leaf,” he said, carefully not looking over in Rin’s direction. “Lady Tsunade better be ready to have two apprentices.”

He dodged the hug and scowled at the hair ruffling. It was as easy as ever to turn Obito’s teasing comments in to light hearted bickering, the very foundation of their friendship which continued to this day no matter how much stronger their bonds had grown. Just because he was learning what it was to have friends didn’t mean he enjoyed being the center of attention any more than he used to. What mattered was that Rin was smiling again and looked more determined than ever and he hoped Sakura was prepared for a little competition.

 iv.

She split the ground with her fist the first time he saw her in a battle and Kakashi felt his heart cracking along the fault lines, fluttering like a weak thing behind his ribs. It was hard to believe she was the same bubblegum girl he had hated on first sight and a part of him wondered if she still moved and breathed and fought for her Sasuke-kun. Joining ANBU had kept him from fighting with the regular forces – even Rin and Obito hadn’t been at his side in nearly a year now – so it was rather easy to see how he might have never seen Team 7 fight before.

It was also easy to see he’d been missing out.

Although it might have been an odd detail to latch on to, Kakashi couldn’t help but notice that she had cut her hair. The pink strands were sweat drenched and dirt stained; they clung to her face and neck in a manner that should not have been anywhere near as alluring as it was. He almost lost his footing, actually stopping to stare in awe, as he bent herself to the earth and tore it open with a roar that shook the spine inside him.

Stupidly, he mind couldn’t help repeating that old line he couldn’t remember the origin of: she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll punch you in the face.

Even more stupidly, for some reason he felt as though he wouldn’t mind if she punched him in the face. He shook the feeling off by turning and sliding his kunai through an enemy’s throat. It was pure coincidence that his targets had happened upon a group of fellow Konoha shinobi just before Kakashi caught up to them, darting out of the shadows and in to the fray with nary a word to those already fighting. Sakura and her companions had grown so much since that day he dismissed them all as useless.

After the dust had settled and the only people standing bore the symbol of the Leaf, Sakura turned to him with a smile streaked in blood and eyes so bright he almost shielded his own.

“Thank you for your assistance, ANBU-san,” she called. “You fight pretty good.”

He was forever thankful that his double masks neatly covered the blush rising on his cheeks as he slipped back in to the shadows without a word. The Uchiha, whom he presumed was the fabled Sasuke-kun, watched him go with a single eyebrow raised. He looked a lot like Itachi, although the same could be said of everyone in their clan.

Kakashi made sure to casually mention the encounter to Minato-sensei later when he made his report in the Hokage’s office. He watched his old teacher swell up with pride that his son’s team had made such a good impression on one of his best, asking eagerly what Kakashi thought of them. Before he could stop himself the words seemed almost to fall from his lips like a cart running out of control.

“I think she’s beautiful.”

Minato-sensei laughed until his belly must have hurt. Kakashi smacked his shoulder and left without being dismissed.

 v.

“Do you still live for someone else?”

Probably it was a weird question to ask someone when their hands were wrist deep inside your abdomen and their chakra was the only thing stopping you from bleeding out. Kakashi had never been too concerned with social norms, though.

Instead of answering Sakura gave him a desperate wild look as she screamed over her shoulder for someone to signal the Hokage. He knew what that meant. They wouldn’t be able to transport him back in time. Minato-sensei’s teleportation was their only hope of keeping him alive. Maybe that should have bothered him more but when Kakashi was twelve he had seen this girl perform a miracle and if ever there was someone who’s hands he trusted it was her.

“S-Sakura.” His voice was small and wet. How strange. “Sakura do you…still live for someone else?”

For some reason it felt important that she answer. It wasn’t as though her answer would matter, in this life or the next. There was no way for her to know that the shadows watched her sometimes as she laughed at the bar with her friends. There was no way for her to know that the flowers that sometimes showed up on her doorstep came from his hand. There was no way she knew how hard he had fallen for a girl who felt so strongly and yelled so loudly that it shook away the darkness in him until all he knew was the light she gave off so freely.

“Don’t speak, ANBU-san,” she admonished him. Her brow creased in concentration as she forced more chakra in to his belly. Kakashi barely paid attention to the arching of his spine or the way blood bubbled up between his lips.

“You…lived for him. You breathed and broke and fought for him.” Breathing was more difficult than it should have been. “You shouldn’t.” When she looked down at him he prayed she couldn’t see through the holes in his mask or the cracks in his soul. “You are…enough on your own. No one should own who you are.”

He didn’t get to see Minato-sensei arrive. Too soon his vision faded and Kakashi spared a thought for Rin and for Obito, hoping they wouldn’t take this too hard. Better friends he could never have asked for. He owed them so much but he was certain both of them knew what they meant to him. No ghosts came with him when he felt the world fade to black around him.

 vi.

“You’re stupid,” were the first words he heard upon regaining consciousness.

“I hear that a lot,” he croaked, “though never in regards to my actual intelligence. What have I done now?”

Only after he spoke did he crack his eyes open, immediately closing them again. His hospital bed – and he was obviously in a hospital bed – was set directly underneath the harsh halogen lights. A quick jerking tug sent his bed skittering to one side with a terrible squealing noise, obviously not the sound of a bed on wheels, and that answered the unspoken question of who had just called him an idiot before he was fully conscious.

“Hello Haruno-san,” he murmured, opening his eyes again now that he was out of the light’s path.

“Don’t you Haruno-san me you stalker creep.”

Despite her words she sounded more amused that anything else. That was the only thing that gave Kakashi the courage to roll his eyes to the side and take her in, knowing that if he moved his head a headache would start up. She looked as good in her medic’s uniform as she always did. Her hair, recently trimmed, was held back with a few cute little pins. On her face she wore an expression he’d seen too often on Rin, a mixture of irritation, exasperation, and fondness. He was more surprised than usual to see the fondness.

“Uhm…”

“If you wanted to ask me out you would have been better served using words instead of waiting around outside the hospital every morning.”

“You…saw that?”

“No but Rin-chan and I chat. Girls do that, you see. She’s been an absolute gold mine of interesting tidbits while you were sleeping.”

“Note to self: murder Rin.”

“Don’t you dare! We made a bet and I’m going to win; I won’t let you make me lose, you hear!”

“A bet?” Doing his best to ignore the way his head immediately began to pound, Kakashi turned to look at her in curiosity. “What kind of bet?”

Sakura waved one hand through the air casually. “Oh just a little thing. If I confront you and get a date then she has to go confront Obito and get a date out of him too.”

Kakashi stared. Swallowed. Shifted in his bed. Stared some more.

There was no porcelain mask to hide the blush this time and it was doubly embarrassing for her to see the line of red that crept overtop the small paper one some nurse had stretched over his mouth. Unless it had been her that put it on him. Had she been a part of his surgery? Had she peeked?

Putting that small panic-inducing thought aside for later, Kakashi had to clear his throat twice before he could string enough words together to respond to his long-time crush.

“Well. I’ve been telling those two to get their heads out of their asses for ages now. Who am I to turn down such an opportunity for them?” He smiled shakily when Sakura snorted.

“For them. Of course.”

“That’s me, the dutiful friend.”

“I hope you make as dutiful a date, Hatake Kakashi.” Sakura’s hand brushed his rather deliberately as she stood and made for the door. “Rumor says you have a habit of being as late for everything as Obito is. If you’re late for our first date I’ll remove your teeth for you.”

She was pink and only soft if you weren’t looking at her muscles – and Kakashi was so in love.

[caseofthestolenspecs]

Promptober Day 30: Found

(For @miluette‘s Promptober!) (Also, this is dedicated to @miluette, as this was based on an idea we came up with awhile ago. <3)

Ever since they’d first started dating, Prompto left little handwritten notes everywhere for Gladiolus. He’d made a game out of it; sometimes they’d be out in the open for him to find with little difficulty, but most of the time they’d be tucked away, hidden in the most random of places. He kept a tally on how many Gladiolus would find in the end, and how long it would take him to do so.

The notes’ contents varied. While some were lovey-dovey (plenty of “I love you”s), the majority were written with the intention of making the large man laugh. The messages alternated between being downright nonsensical (“Ever seen a pink Garulessa?”) or borderline insulting if they weren’t so ridiculous (“Are those your eyebrows or did someone glue caterpillars to your face?”).

Every day when Gladiolus woke in the morning, he’d wonder where he’d find one of Prompto’s little love notes next. Would it be in his clothing bag? Taped to the bottom of his dinner plate? Tucked into one of his books? Or would he wake up to find it stuck in his hair, taped to the wispy strands that hung at the back of his neck? Every day was a surprise, and Gladiolus looked forward to it. They were a little glimmer of sunshine when he needed it the most, especially when life took its first steps down a darker path, eventually leading to an inevitable event.

The day Noctis disappeared into the crystal, they’d all lost their best friend, the glue holding their small group together. The stress and dread of what was to come, of the unknown, was too much for them to bear. The air was tense. Hearts were fragile. Writing love notes didn’t even cross Prompto’s mind anymore; all that remained were thoughts of Noctis, of how badly he missed him, how badly he wanted to see him again. Gladiolus was no better, and Ignis didn’t speak to either of them much from that day onward, lost in his own endless sea of thoughts.

As a result, Gladiolus and Prompto didn’t make it. After everything they’d been through together, they ended up walking different paths, going their separate ways - searching for something that neither of them were sure even existed. They needed time apart, time to find themselves.

Prompto didn’t have any love notes left in his system at that point... that is, except for one. After they’d said their goodbyes, Prompto decided to leave Gladiolus one final note, one really good one that he had been saving for a special occasion. When he had a moment alone, he tucked it inside one of Gladiolus’ belongings, someplace he knew the man had a chance of stumbling upon it one day. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Prompto left that up to chance, to fate.

Ten years later, a miracle took place - their best friend returned to them. Though it was only temporary, it was what they had all needed for their hearts to heal at last.  They rebuilt their bond, administered medicine, sought comfort in the form of smiles, laughter, and tears. And when it came time, they said their final goodbyes with the break of the new dawn. They were able to provide a proper send-off, to show their gratitude for their dear friend. Noctis brought the light back to Eos, and with it, hope. Joy.

Love.

Gladiolus never let go of Prompto from that day forward.

….

Gladiolus slumped down against the couch one afternoon, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail as he brought his legs up onto the furniture lazily. A stiff drink in one hand and a book in the other, he felt he’d earned the right to relax for awhile. After all, hefting and carrying and unpacking boxes all morning was a surefire way to exhaust someone, even someone as fit as Gladiolus.

He leaned back against the cushion, a yawn escaping him as he held up the book. He smiled fondly as his eyes passed over the embossed words written across the dust jacket. Hearts on Fira. He thought he’d lost this book ages ago, but lady luck had smiled upon him that morning; it had been tucked away inside one of his old bags, hidden in one of the zippered side pockets. Honestly, he was pretty stoked. One of his favourite guilty pleasures to pass the time had been reading in the back seat of the Regalia. Damn, how long had it been since he’d last done that, now? Twelve years? Wow. Time sure flew.

Gladiolus flipped through the pages with care. Though the paper had begun to yellow from age, the glue securing them to the binding appeared to be holding up. He’d read this book more times than he’d like to admit. What page was it, when Sylvia finally confessed her love to Antonio? Right, that must have been around... page two hundred and twenty, maybe.

When he parted the book to read that sweet sweet confession scene again, something fluttered out from within.

Curious, Gladiolus set the book aside, picking up the mystery object that had fallen onto his lap. At first he thought that maybe one of the pages had fallen out after all, but the colour didn’t match, nor did the size. It was smaller, folded, and had one jagged edge, like it had been a former corner torn from an unrelated paper source.

Unfolding it, he felt his heart stop in his chest.

Scribbled hastily on the inside with black ink was a short message. To anyone else, it wouldn’t have made a lick of sense, but Gladiolus knew better. He knew this writing, right down to the pen that it had been scribbled with (it had been his, once upon a time - the ink stream cut out here and there). The messy, faded writing could only belong to one person in the world, the one person he loved more than anyone and anything else.

“You smell like a behemoth’s ass.”

That was it. That was the mystery message. Gladiolus read those words over and over, twenty times at least, before a laugh began to rumble low in his chest. It didn’t take long for it to give way to a joyous burst, his shoulders shaking, the book he’d been holding moments prior falling to the floor with a loud thump. In that moment, all the stress, all the anger, all the sorrow that he’d held onto for so long seemed to disappear. It served as a reminder of their precious friends’ sacrifice, the gift he had left them with. It wasn’t just Eos’ light; it was the joy of life itself.

And most of all, Noctis had given Gladiolus the greatest gift of all: meeting Prompto Argentum for the first time, all those years ago.

After a short while, Gladiolus’ laughter finally waned, tears streaming down his face in its place. Gods, he’d needed that. He stared down at the piece of paper again, at the silliness scratched on its surface. ‘A behemoth’s ass’. What an absurd thing to write, let alone come up with in the first place. This book… this message… it was like Prompto had somehow planned it, placed it strategically, like a time capsule. It had come to him when he’d needed it the most. In a way, it was like he’d just received a bottled up kiss from a twenty-year old Prompto.

Tucking the note into his pocket, Gladiolus got to his feet. He left the room, on a mission to find the sender so he could return the favour.

He found him instantly.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a large textbook open in front of him, the now thirty-two year old Prompto studied for his photography course. His nose was scrunched in concentration, a pair of glasses perched crookedly on the tip of his nose, having slid down from the tilt of his head. He looked tired; bags under his eyes and a lazy posture, but one couldn’t blame him. After all, moving house in the middle of having to study for final exams would take a lot out of anyone, even someone as energetic and brilliant as Prompto.

Without warning, Gladiolus stepped up behind Prompto, leaning down to place a kiss atop soft blond strands. Quickly moving to his side, he then scooped the blond up in his large arms, a cry of surprise squeaking out from his partner’s mouth. Before Prompto could protest further, Gladiolus silenced him with a kiss, one that just barely made contact thanks to the parting of the large grin he had on his face.

“You smell too,” Gladiolus murmured, another laugh bubbling past his lips as he gave his beloved another kiss. Prompto didn’t learn what that was all about until about an hour or so later, but he didn’t mind so much. When Gladiolus balled the note up and tossed it at him playfully somewhere along the way, Prompto scrambled to catch it, read it, and immediately proceeded to laugh so hard his sides hurt.

His love note had found its recipient at last, just as he’d hoped it would. Everything had worked out in the end - leaving it up to fate hadn’t been foolish, after all.

Prompto cherished every new day they spent together. Every moment was filled with happiness... spontaneity... love. And he knew precisely who he had to thank for this life, and he made sure to do so every single day.

Thank you, Noctis.

[quicksilversquared]

The Boy with the Ladybug Tattoos

After a long day of noise and subpar cheese, Plagg is ready for some revenge. Put together a grumpy Plagg and some temporary Ladybug-themed tattoos, and soon you get a very decorated (and very disgruntled) teenage boy.

(FF.net) (AO3)

(story inspired by this post)

Plagg was bored, bored, bored.

He had spent the entire day cooped up in Adrien's pocket as his Chosen went to the fair with his friends, with not even a short akuma attack for a break. Plagg had been unable to get out and stretch his paws and, to add insult to injury, Adrien hadn't even brought any Camembert along because he had been worried about it smelling too much in the heat. Instead, he had bought Plagg cheese at the fair- gross, subpar cheese- and then continued on with his day as though nothing was wrong. Adrien and his friends had spent the whole day at the fair, from just after breakfast to long after dinner, and then as soon as they had gotten home, Adrien had crashed.

Without giving Plagg any Camembert.

Plagg scowled as he floated above the sleeping Adrien. The boy hadn't even bothered to finish changing into pajamas all the way- he had shucked his day clothes and pulled on some loose shorts, then fallen face first into his pillow to snore the night away. Plagg had tried kicking him several times- if Adrien were in literally any other position, he wouldn't be snoring at all- but it hadn't even made Adrien stir.

So Plagg was awake, grouchy, and feeling more than a little vengeful.

Floating over to the desk, he started pawing through the assorted memorabilia that Adrien had brought home from the fair. The fair itself had been Ladybug and Chat Noir-themed, celebrating one year of the superheroes protecting the city. That meant that Adrien had ended up with cat ears on a headband as well as a (rather cheap) Ladybug-printed yo-yo, as well as several plushies of both superheroes, a Miraculous-themed shirt, and a whole waterfall of Ladybug and Chat Noir themed temporary tattoos.

Plagg perked up and pawed through the temporary tattoos. There were ladybugs and neon green paw prints, each a little smaller than an Euro coin. Adrien and Nino had been joking about putting them on at the fair, but Adrien had finally set them aside, clearly never intending to put them on.

Well, that was too bad. Plagg had just made up his mind. Adrien was going to get tattooed, whether he wanted to or not. And, because the dork had gotten an excess of Ladybug-themed tattoos, Plagg knew which ones he was going to use.

Gathering up a whole armful of ladybug temporary tattoos, Plagg zipped over to the still-snoring Adrien and deposited his haul on his Chosen's back. Picking one up, he read the instructions on the back.

"Remove clear top sheet," Plagg read. "Position the tattoo on clean, dry skin. Press it firmly down and then hold a damp washcloth against the back of the tattoo. Hold in place for thirty seconds, and then carefully peel off the paper and let dry." He paused, considering. "Well, I don't really want to drag a washcloth around, and it would wake up Adrien, so..." He grinned and licked a paw. "This ought to work just as well, right?"

  Twenty minutes later, Plagg dusted off his paws and inspected his work. A trail of bright ladybugs meandered up from Adrien's shoulder blade, ending just under his ear. The discarded papers from the temporary tattoos littered the bed. Plagg knew that he would have to pick them up soon to make sure that Adrien was surprised when he first saw himself in the mirror, but for now, Plagg let himself enjoy his work.

Ah, but revenge was sweet.

  At five forty-five, an akuma woke up three-quarters of Paris with its roaring music. Adrien lurched out of bed with a groan, fumbling around for a shirt. He yanked it over his head and stumbled towards the window, pulling his shoes on as he went. After the first nighttime akuma battle where Adrien had showed up less than dressed and had to hide barefoot in an alley while Plagg recharged, he had never done it again.

A minute later, Chat Noir was flying through the air above the Paris skyline. The booming "music"- if it could be called that- made his head rattle. It was so loud that Chat Noir was having a hard time trying to figure out where the akuma was.

...well, he knew where he would be using his Cataclysm, at least. Even if he had to immediately go retreat and recharge, it would be worth it to not have to hear that awful music.

("Music.")

And then, as it turned out, the thudding speakers were exactly the thing that needed to be destroyed. In a massively stupid decision that was probably a side effect of tiredness, Hawkmoth had made the corrupted butterfly soak into a pair of large speakers, ones that were too large for even the supervillain to carry around easily. The fight had easily been the shortest one yet because of it, only lasting about thirty seconds after the superheroes arrived. Ladybug had arrived seconds before Chat Noir, effectively distracting the supervillain, while Chat Noir snuck in, pouncing and destroying the speakers with one swiping motion.

Ladybug had first given Chat Noir a slightly exasperated look for using his power so early on in the fight, but her expression had turned delighted after a second when the akuma fluttered free. She caught it with the ease of having done it hundreds of times, and then had to pause in slight confusion as she tried to figure out how to do her normal repairs after not having using her Lucky Charm yet. It didn't take long for her healing ladybugs to sweep over the (very minimal) damage that had been done, and then the superheroes retreated to the rooftops for a short breather before going back home to try to get a little more sleep.

"Nice eye," Ladybug said around a yawn as they landed. "How'd you spot that that was the corrupted item so fast?"

Chat Noir had to grin sheepishly, hand reaching back to ruffle his hair. "I, ah, didn't. I, uh, just thought it would be easier to fight without that noise rattling our brains."

"Ah. We were just lucky, then." Suddenly, Ladybug's attention got caught by something on the side of Chat Noir's neck and she craned her head to look. She got closer and Chat Noir, taken somewhat off guard, skittered a few steps back.

"Stay still," Ladybug complained with a laugh as she came forward again and he scooted back. "There's something on your neck, let me see it."

Startled, Chat Noir clapped a hand to his neck. "There is? What?"

"That's what I'm trying to see, stand still!" Ladybug peeled Chat Noir's hand away from his neck and pushed his hair out of the way so that she could see. Chat Noir squirmed, not used to the proximity when they weren't in the middle of a battle. After a moment, Ladybug's snort tickled his neck. "Chat Noir, why do you have a trail of ladybugs tattooed up your neck?"

"A what?" Almost instinctively, Chat Noir craned his head to look, then realized that of course he couldn't see his own neck. "I- I didn't- I don't have any tattoos!"

"They're like the ones I saw at the fair," Ladybug commented, hooking her finger in his collar to peer down it at the rest of his neck. "I can see at least five."

Chat Noir frowned. "I didn't know that they were giving people tattoos at the fair."

"Temporary ones, silly!" Ladybug looked deeply amused as she let go of his collar and stepped back. "Did you neglect your kwami, by any chance?"

Any lingering traces of confusion vanished in an instance and Chat Noir let out a long sigh. Plagg. Of course. "I didn't crazy neglect him by normal standards, but Plagg is picky. He probably thought that the cheeses I got for him weren't fine enough for his standards. He would totally decide to stick temporary tattoos on." He felt for his neck again, even though he wouldn't actually be able to feel the designs. His shoulders slumped. "So much for getting a little more sleep. I'll have to spend that time washing off the tattoos before my father sees them."

Ladybug giggled and plucked her yo-yo off of her hip to go leave. "Good luck with that. I'm going to go get a bit more sleep. See you later, Chat Noir!"

"See you later, Ladybug," Chat Noir called back. Then he frowned. "Good luck? How hard could it possibly be to remove a few temporary tattoos?"

As soon as he got home and detransformed, Adrien took only a glance in the mirror before stepping right into the shower. Sure, Plagg had plastered quite a few of the ladybug tattoos on him, but surely they would come off with a little soap and water.

He was wrong.

"They didn't even fade!" Adrien exclaimed as he inspected himself in the mirror. "How did they not even fade?"

Plagg snickered.

Adrien grabbed his phone, hoping to look up some tips on how to remove temporary tattoos. Instead, he came face-to-face with a reminder on his calendar about a photoshoot that he had after school that day. Adrien sucked in a breath.

Oh, there was no way he could have any trace of the ladybugs still on his neck when he went to the photoshoot. His father would be furious. Suddenly full of energy, he swiped off the notification and searched for ways to get temporary tattoos off. Scanning the list, Adrien tried not to groan.

He had a lot of work to do.

  By the time Adrien was expected at breakfast, he had made absolutely no progress on getting the ladybug tattoos off. They were just as bright as they had been when he first got up.

"I don't understand why none of these are working," Adrien complained as he finally patted his neck dry. "You just put these on like normal, right?"

"I didn't use a washcloth," Plagg volunteered. "It was too big."

Adrien sent a confused look his way. "So what did you do, then?"

Plagg simply smirked and made a big show of miming licking his paw and then patting something. It took Adrien a second to catch on, and then he made a disgusted noise. "Plagg! That's gross! And I bet it's your spit that's making it impossible to get these things off!"

Plagg only cackled.

"And it's too warm to cover them up with a scarf- oh! Cover them up!" Adrien lunged for one of his bathroom drawers and frantically started sorting through it. After a moment, he found the container he was looking for and held it up triumphantly. "You're lucky I got to keep some of my concealer from my photoshoots! I can just cover them up until they fade on their own-" He paused. "They will fade on their own, right?"

"Regular tattoos fade too," Plagg said in way on answering.

"PLAGG!"

Plagg sighed. "Kid, skin cells only live for so long. Once the top few layers die off, then the tattoo will fade." He yawned. "My spit just made things soak in more than normal."

"Gross," Adrien complained again, but there was no real venom in it. He was too focused on applying the concealer to hide his tattoos. "Thank goodness the makeup people taught me how to make this actually look good so I could cover up my bruises from fencing and basketball. Otherwise this would look pretty weird."

"And you don't want your pretty-pretty skin looking all weird," Plagg taunted.

"And I can't have ladybug tattoos on my neck for the photoshoot I have later," Adrien corrected, twisting his neck to inspect his work. Thankfully the high-end concealer blended perfectly with his skin, coming across as perfectly natural instead of shiny or otherwise strange. It was definitely a good thing that he hadn't gotten sunburned at the fair like Marinette had, or else the concealer would have stood out right away.

Plagg sniffed, pretending to be offended. "I worked hard on those tattoos, thank you very much. They're well balanced."

"A tattooed model does not fit the image of the Gabriel brand," Adrien droned automatically as he finally left the bathroom and went to finish getting dressed. He had at least managed to get ready while he tried to remove the tattoos, since some of the removal strategies had to sit and soak in a bit. Otherwise he would be running crazy late and really be in trouble. "My father would have been furious."

Plagg only yawned.

Thankfully no one at school noticed anything off with Adrien's neck. The concealer held, even though it was really hot outside and Adrien had been concerned about sweating straight through it. Plagg had been sulky about no one else seeing his "super-hard work, Adrien, why don't you appreciate it more?", which made Adrien worry about getting more tattoos next time he was asleep. If Plagg was feeling particularly spiteful and decided to "decorate" his face...

Over lunch, Adrien gathered up all of his remaining temporary tattoos and brought them to school. Rose, who hadn't been able to go to the fair because she was out of town, accepted the tattoos with a squeal and a hug before running off to share them with Juleka. Adrien spotted ladybug and paw print tattoos dotting their arms later that afternoon.

At least someone got some use out of the tattoos.

Of course, Adrien couldn't be lucky all day. The makeup artists that touched up his face before photoshoots looked closer than his friends did, and it only took them a couple minutes to find the makeup patches dotting up his neck.

"One of my friends decided to give me a few temporary tattoos," Adrien claimed when he got questioned. "And he used something other than water, and now I can't get them off."

"Only you, kid," the makeup artist said with a laugh, patting his shoulder. "You did a good job with the concealer, at least. I don't think we need to do anything to it at all. You're lucky that fall shoots have a lot of high collars, your neck won't even be visible for most of the shots. Same with winter shoots once we get to them, but your temporary tattoos will be long gone by then."

Adrien could only hope the tattoos wouldn't last that long.

  It took an entire month of daily scrubbing and makeup application before the last of the tattoos faded away to nothing. Plagg had erased the makeup on Chat Noir every time they transformed, which meant that while Adrien's normal friends didn't ever find out about the tattoos, Ladybug certainly saw them every time there was an attack.

"I hope you know how awful you are," Adrien grumbled in Plagg's general direction once he had detransformed and flopped face-first on his bed following the first fight after the tattoos had faded away completely. They had had a little time after the fight had ended, and Ladybug had pounced on the opportunity to peer under Chat Noir's collar and poke a little fun at him for no longer having the tattoos visible. "Ladybug still remembered the tattoos, and didn't you see? Alya posted a photo from two weeks ago yesterday and you could see the tattoos clearly! The whole world is gonna see those tattoos."

Plagg only sniggered. "You deserved it for feeding me that awful deep-fried cheese. And you're lucky that it wasn't any worse."

"How could it possibly be worse? You branded me with ladybugs!"

"I could have put one on your face," Plagg pointed out with a bit of a snigger. "Or, even better- what if they had been giving out tattoos with Ladybug's face on them? What d'you think Ladybug would have thought of that?"

"PLAGG!"

[blogplacecommon]

The Oath

The elevator shakes violently.

Oxygen.

They are running out of oxygen.

He counts the occupants in the small compartment. One bailiff, who may or may not have an anxiety disorder. Himself, a successful defence attorney. His son, just a fourth grade boy. He is concerned about the bailiff and his son for entirely different reasons: How the bailiff might choose to act in this situation and how that may affect his son.

He remembers gunshots, a scream. He remembers an earthquake. He remembers the world going black and what was his darling, angel boy doing with a gun? He remembers fleeting thrums of adrenaline, fear. He remembers pain, burning, white hot, agonizing pain mingling in with the strained face of Prosecutor Oliver Twright.

He doesn’t remember much after that.

He wakes up in a hospital bed. He tries to feel for the bed sheets, reach out for the boy – my son? – sitting in the worn seat beside him. He moves but he can’t feel anything. It’s cold, absent of any feeling. He looks around, finds that the world is moving around him in snap shots. The light blends with the shadows and every sound around him is muffled. Even the steady beeping from the machine is faint.

He decides that this room is too sad, dreary. Everything around him has taken on a faded quality, like the old photographs abandoned in the shoebox hidden under the linens.

A small sniffle beside him, the boy again. He has the sudden urge to comfort him. He gets off the bed, feeling oddly light, like a piece of him is missing. He doesn’t realize that there’s still a body in the bed.

He gets to the boy, tries to sooth him by stroking his hair. His hand passes through the boy’s head and the boy looks around wildly as he tries to supress a shiver. He tries again and once more his hand passes through the boy’s head.

He feels hopeless, more than sad. He feels as if he’s just lost his only son – yes this boy is his son. He wants nothing more than to hold his boy again, sooth his hair. He decides the only thing to do now is to watch his boy, make sure he is taken care of and protected.

No harm will come to his boy.

He leans in, certain that his boy won’t hear him, and says anyway, “I am always here for you. You are my son, I will protect you.”

His heart is jerked sideways as his boy turns to face him, his eyes – puffy from crying – seeing through him, like he isn’t even there.

And then suddenly the machines start going off. His boy jumps out of the chair, yelling for a doctor, running to the bedside. His boy is crying, loud, soaking sobs, holding the hand of the body in the bed.

The doctors swarm in, they take his boy away – he’s kicking and screaming. They surround the bed, start yelling out procedures, commence CPR. He ignores the commotion to follow the nurse who has his son.

They are halfway down a sterile, white hallway when the world is swept up around him. The walls fold in on themselves, the people around him disappear.

He finds himself in another hospital room. A lady in a bed is holding a child, a proud father standing by her side. He recognizes this couple. They are – were –

His parents.

(Look dear, he’s got your eyes.)

The gravity of the situation dawns on and promptly crushes him. In that moment he understands what is happening.

The elevator, the earthquake, the gunshots, the scream, the prosecutor, the monitors, the deranged eyes of his son.

He is dying.

He is dying and his life is literally flashing before his eyes.

He sees the parts of his childhood he can no longer remember. Himself swinging across the monkey bars of the rusted jungle gym at age 5. Himself in grade school taking fast interest in history and literature at age 11. Himself navigating the confusing waters of high school, confidently stepping foot onto his university campus, taking instant flame to a lovely lady named Linda.

He is in yet another hospital room as he hears the first startled cries of his baby boy. He feels that swelling pride of a new father as he watches himself gingerly cradle his newborn son in his arms.

There are snapshots of him, Linda, his boy, friends and colleagues throughout the ages. They are a rainbow of emotions, sometimes alone with him, sometimes all together.

He sees moments of the courtroom, the opposing prosecutors coming and going as he looses to some and wins against others.

He blinks and suddenly he feels anguish as he watches his Linda get wrenched from his life. Feels the panic at the prospect of managing his firm and single handedly taking care of his boy. He sees himself sitting alone in front of half-filled adoption papers for many nights only to toss the pages into the fireplace several days later.

He sees himself drop his boy off on his first day of school. Watches his boy grow all over again. Observes his best moments and not so best moments. He relives the joy of finding out his son wanted to become a defence attorney just like his old man. He witnesses his son’s interesting spread of friends and peers from school.

He blinks again and suddenly he is in the courtroom. The leering face of Prosecutor Oliver Tright standing across from him. His son watching from the spectator’s bench. Something cold settles around him as he finds himself in that accursed elevator. He watches the bailiff struggling to keep calm in the situation, hears the scared undertones in his son’s voice, feels the earthquake thrum through the small chamber.

Two gun shots, a scream and Tright.

He is in an ambulance, transported to hospital along with the bailiff and his son. And then he is in the hospital room he woke up in. The heart monitor flat-lines, his boy begins to panic and the doctors surround him.

He is helpless to watch as they fail to revive him.

Strong wind passes through him as he is brought back to the present, his boy and the nurse slowly making their way to the waiting room.

Heavily, he settles his weightless soul in the empty chair next to the one his son is occupying. He had died on his boy. There was his son, only twelve-years-old, helpless and without a guide to make sure he didn’t fall when he stumbled. He imagines dreary orphanages, his son a prison to a system that would drag him down, turn his dreams to dust.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Around him the nurses begin to bustle. A social worker is called in – some blond lady who speaks in a fake voice – to talk to his boy.

(My name is Jolene. I’m here to help.)

(I’m Miles… my father is he..?) His boy’s voice is hoarse from crying, his breaths punctuated with small hiccups. He will never again be able to hug his boy and tell him things were going to be ok.

Things will never be ok again.

He is not ok with this.

(I’m sorry Miles, I suppose you’re old enough to understand it… your father has passed.)

His boy turns red with the effort it took to contain his giant, sobbing screams.

(Do you have any relatives or family you are close with?)

His boy shakes his head.

(Ok… come with me, we can get you someplace to stay for the time being.)

There is no place. Their house is large, empty. Tom - a distant cousin - is the closest thing to family this boy has. But Sam is brutal, jobless, abusive. He, himself, is the only one his boy had left and he had died. He has failed his boy, has failed his Miles.

He resigns himself to following Miles around. He follows Miles as he goes to temporary housing with the social worker, picks up his things from school, breaks the news to his friends – who are very insistent to stay by his side, despite the social worker’s denial of such. He follows Miles as he goes back to temporary housing and waits silently as they process his paperwork, send him off to foster care.

He watches his boy try to adapt to the new house, cry himself to sleep every night, pass around the food on his plate. He follows him to his new school, the therapy sessions, the houses of the new friends he tries to make. He hates to see his Miles so miserable but he stays by the boy’s side. It is the least he can do in his current non-corporeal state.

Several months more and Miles sneaks out of the foster house, runs away from home. He's walking for hours, trying to find their old house with the oversized map he picks up from a nearby convince store. The social worker finds him, moves him back to temporary housing. The foster family doesn’t want him anymore.

He's long since stopped trying to change anything - he is powerless in this world. He can only follow, chained and hollow and empty and dark, like a shadow.

They are in the middle of processing the paper work to get Miles reinstated in a different home when the aged, smug face of a man he’s never met shows up to meet with the social worker. He doesn’t like the look of this man, wouldn’t trust him more than he could throw him. To his disgruntlement, the man adopts Miles. 

He follows Miles as he sends one last goodbye to his friends and is taken across the Atlantic to Germany.

He can only silently watch as the man - who’s name is Thomas - takes everything Miles believes in and stomps it to finely ground sand. He watches his Miles blossom into adolescence, taking his studies by storm, surpassing his expectations. Miles steam-trains his way to becoming a successful prosecutor and is often called a prodigy.

Despite everything, he is so proud of his son.

He knows, for a man to be successful, there must be sacrifices. Miles is given a title – “Genius Prosecutor” – and he isn’t even overseeing cases independently. Yet he still can recall the times his son wakes up in the dead of night, screaming for his father. 

He watches his son, as young as 16, sneak out of his bedroom window whilst the house is asleep and bully his way into illegal clubs. He watches his son learn to internalize his emotions, bottle them up like watered down soda, leave them to age like fine wine.

He feels surges of fatherly protection when Thomas throws waves of verbal abuse at his boy. He places himself between Thomas and Miles, glaring at the monstrosity as he talks down to his son. He likes to think that the words hurt less passing through his ghost-like body before reaching Miles.

Miles turns twenty and returns to America to debut as a prosecutor, overseen by Thomas. He starts off very well, his wining streak perfect, the verdicts guilty – and rightfully so.

But then Miles choses to walk a path of underhanded methods, forged evidence, bribery. 

He wonders when his son had morphed from his sweet, little boy to the man who vouched for a verdict and turned blind eye to truth.

He still follows Miles. He still stands next to his son in court and watches as his child is buried under mountains of victories, under several hundred tonnes of faux-ego.

Miles swaps genius for a new title - they call him the “Demon Prosecutor”. 

He feels numb again, for a long time. Lost and confused and hopelessly tethered to his son who feels more like a stranger than his own child.

He longs to turn, to leave Miles and maybe return when Miles isn’t hard pressed for a guilty verdict. But just as he is ready to go, just as he assures himself there will be no more of this hell - because only hell would dress up the devil to look like his son - Miles will do or say something and suddenly, he is the little boy who was licking strawberry ice-cream under Friday afternoon sun, the little boy who was shaken up, wide-eyed, crying to himself under the watchful moon, the little boy he vowed never to abandon.

He follows Miles to the prosecutor’s building, his apartment, the courtroom, through investigations, mundane luncheons.

He follows Miles to a trial in particular. The trial where Miles is left almost gob-smacked with the man staring him down from the defence's bench. He’s representing a girl named Lucy Gramble. He remembers this man from fourteen years ago - a long lost friend of Miles.

The man introduces himself as Arthur Lee.

He watches court proceedings with rapt attention, each side in rapid-fire succession pointing out holes, tearing through evidence and witness statements.

They’re halfway through cross-examination when he feels someone tap on him the shoulder.

It is an odd feeling, after spending over a decade without being able to touch things or be touched by things, he is surprised out of his skin. He turns to see a lady – he recognizes her as the defense attorney who worked Miles’ official, first case. He blinks at her and she waves at him.

“You can see me?” He asks, hesitantly.

“Just as you can see me.” Her tone is cheeky.

He tries to introduce himself, as etiquette demands but finds himself blanking. “Forgive me, I don’t remember my name.”

“You are George Greyhorn, father of Miles Greyhorn. My colleague, Arthur Lee, has told me a lot about the both of you.”

George… he feels the name suits him, like an old, woollen glove. “Thank you…” he hesitates.

“Mia Gramble.” She nodded at Lucy, “My sister caught my bad luck, it seems.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you. If only unfortunate to meet you like this.” He is suddenly curious, “I apologize for asking, but, I must know, how did you come to be this way?” he feels it would be rude to outright say the word “die”.

“Bludgeoned to death by corporate monster, Stephen White.” she says it like they're discussing the weather.

“That sounds terrible.” He sighs as Miles pulls out another piece of falsified evidence. “I’m sorry my son is trying to pin the murder on your sister. I’ve been an absent parental figure lately.”

“You were murdered in an elevator and your son was left orphaned and under the jurisdiction of a random stranger. I don’t blame you.”

He only hums noncommittally. Later, he says, “I never really believed in religion. But I always entertained the idea that we pass on to an underworld of some sort. It seems I was wrong.”

“My mom used to say that the dead sometimes never cross over. Sometimes they stay on earth for a while and then pass. The theory is that the spirits who stay usually have a vendetta or unresolved vow. I’ve stayed to protect my sister.”

“I’ve been following Miles since the accident.” He feels inclined to say this, for some reason.

Both of them have their attention on Miles. “I can imagine how hard that must be.”

They don’t say anything after that for a long time, choosing to watch the court proceedings. Gently, Mia leads him away from the prosecutor’s bench and closer to the center of the courtroom, where they can see each side equally.

“It doesn’t seem like much,” she says suddenly, “but he has grown subconsciously dependant on your presence.” She cants her head to the left side of the room.

Indeed, Miles is less graceful with his words, slower with his comebacks. George feels infinitely confused. “He’s never once looked in my direction and actually acknowledged I was there.”

“Love is a powerful thing, Mr. Greyhorn.”

They watch until, unbelievably, Phoenix disproves Lucy’s guilt. George feels like a traitor as he rejoices Arthur’s small victory.

And then his son decides to go ahead and blame the murder on Arthur himself. The judge quells the rising hysteria among the spectators and court is adjourned for the day.

George rubs at his forehead, suddenly feeling several thousand years old.

A comforting hand settles on his shoulder. He regards Mia with tired eyes. She smiles warmly at him, “There is hope for your son, yet.”

The sentence is too cryptic for him to work out at that moment, with his thoughts scattered like floating dust. He looks at her dubiously and just nods. They part ways for the night, Mia taking after her sister and George following Miles.

Court proceeds the next day like it had the last. George chooses to sit on the judge’s counter and is provided with a grand view of the courtroom. He notices Mia standing next to her sister and Arthur.

He is feeling too many things to bare being close to his son.

He almost laughs at that thought.

In an amazing turnabout, Arthur shreds Stephen White’s testimony and burns through any evidence Miles presents.

Arthur Lee beats Miles Greyhorn.

George waits for the earth to tilt, the floor to cave in, the building to collapse.

None of that happens.

Miles Greyhorn had lost and the earth was still in tact, the world had not ended. He looks at Mia, bewilderedly. She throws him a wink. He turns his head to the prosecutor’s bench only to find it empty. He quickly hops off the judge’s counter in fast pursuit of his son.

He finds Miles in an empty lobby, his eyes a stormy turbulence. He isn’t wearing his perfectly constructed poker face. George can see the anger, confusion and question of his own existence written in Miles’ stony features.

Most of all, George can see the confused boy he had left behind in that elevator.

"There is hope for your son, yet."

He thinks he finally understands what she meant. 

*Please note that this was originally a transformative pice of work that I posted [here] and later edited for the purpose of this assignment. I, in no way, have plagiarized this piece as it is my own work. If you need further proof, don’t hesitate to ask. 

[10.] (November 25, 2017)