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after-avenging-hours · 4 years ago

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Out of Time [3]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 6079

Warnings: brief mention of smutty concepts, Steve being a sad puppy, subtle pining

When Steve wakes up in the morning, it’s to a feeling he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Warmth, security, and something a little new to him. He feels the gentle weight of your arm over his waist and the flutter of your breath against his collar bone. He almost doesn’t want to open his eyes for the fear that he’ll wake up from this dream.

He counts to ten before blinking his eyes open and his heart nearly stops at the sight before him. Bathed in the morning sun, your hair frames your face like a glowing halo. You look ethereal and serene, lips parted ever so slightly, your face relaxed. It makes him want to grab his sketchbook if he knew that moving wouldn’t wake you.

He settles for tracing over your features with his gaze. Memorizing every detail, so that he might be able to recreate the image later. He doesn’t know what he did right to have this literal angel fall into his lap. He’d almost been certain that he was going to wake up alone in his bed. That last night had been some sort of fever dream.

Yet, here you are. Asleep in his arms. As real as the air in his lungs.

He really doesn’t want to ruin this moment by waking you, but nature is calling and it would be his damn luck to have an accident in bed while a beautiful woman slept next to him. “Vic,” he whispers, not wanting to startle you. However, he says it a little too soft, and you continue to sleep soundly. Unwinding his arm from around your waist, his fingers curl from the top of your hair and down your temple. “Vic,” he says once again, his voice a little rough from sleep.

You inhale deeply through your nose, your body shifting and rubbing up against his. That makes him go stiff as he becomes acutely aware of the reaction this instills in his own body. “Steve…” his name slips from your parted lips with a pleasured lilt.

His eyes widen and he feels the heat crawling up his neck. “Vic, honey, you gotta wake up,” he urges a little more pressingly. He’s not sure where the term of endearment came from. It just slipped out.

Your eyes flutter and slowly blink open. Your head pulls back, away from his chest, before your eyes lift to his. Your lips split into a smile that rivals the sunlight filtering in through the window. “Morning...” you declare, in a cheerful, yet sleepy voice. Your arm lifts from his waist, so you can rub the tiredness from your eyes and then cover the yawn that escapes. “Oh, you probably need to use the bathroom,” you realize and begin to extract your tangled legs. Even as a Super Soldier, Steve had the tiniest bladder. He always needed to go first thing after waking up.

“Uh… thanks?” He looks a little confused but shuffles out of bed. He gives you one last glance over his shoulders before leaving the room.

You move to sit up, wincing slightly when you feel your stitches tug at your skin. It’s not exactly painful but feels uncomfortable. You’ll get a chance to check on the healing progress later. It might already be time to remove the stitches. Pushing the blankets off your legs, you carefully move to stand, keeping a hand pressed to the covered wound on your front. Once on your feet, you attempt a few simple stretches to test the strength of your torso and the integrity of the wounded area. There’s a very slight soreness, but it’s nearly unnoticeable.

You turn back to the bed and start to pull the sheets back into place. “You don’t have to do that,” Steve voices once again upon entering the room.

You glance up briefly, releasing a huffed laugh. “Force of habit.”

He moves back to his side of the bed, helping you tug the sheets and blankets back into place. You both then grab a pillow each, fluffing them up in the same manner and setting them back at the same time. It’s a morning ritual you’ve grown used to, but Steve gives you a strange look.

“Hey, do you mind if I use your shower?” you ask, both in an attempt to distract him and because you’re sure that your hair has only gotten worse by sleeping in it without washing the hairspray out.

“Oh, sure,” he agrees, stepping back. “And I think I still have one of my Ma’s old dresses that you can wear.” He turns and moves toward his closet, rolling back one of the double doors to reveal an old wooden dresser tucked into the space. He kneels down and opens the bottom drawer, lifting and tucking around a few different items before pulling out a folded cloth in a floral pattern.

He hands the dress to you, which you take graciously. You hold it tight to your chest, the meaning not lost on you at how much he has to trust you to offer his mother’s dress without hesitation. “Thank you, Steve.”

He nods, watching how you clutch the material as if you understand its importance before he meets your gaze. “It takes a while for the water to get hot, and then it doesn’t last very long. Clean towels are in the cupboard to the right of the sink.”

You smile sweetly. “Thanks for the forewarning.”

You step out of the bedroom and head for the living room first to grab the first aid kit, which you left on the couch, before backtracking down the hall into the bathroom. After closing and locking the door, you place the dress gently on the closed toilet seat and begin to unbutton your pajama shirt. It falls unceremoniously off your shoulders and onto the floor.

Stepping toward the sink, you begin to unwrap the bandage from around your waist and carefully peel back the taped gauze pack. You can’t help the chuckle of slight disbelief when you look down at the nearly healed wound. You would never know how Shuri did it, but her gel was an absolute godsend. You’ve used some of it before, but never for something this bad. You’ll have to find a way to thank her once you get back.

You open up your first aid kit and pull out the surgical scissors, cleaning them off with an alcohol wipe, and then start snipping and removing the stitching thread. Getting the stitches on your back wound, while working through the mirror is a bit awkward, but you get it all eventually. You clean the scissors again before putting them back and take out the tube of disinfectant cream. You place that on the counter for later and shed your pajama pants next.

You grab a towel from the cupboard and pull your toiletry bag back out from where you stashed it the night before to grab the items you’ll need for your shower. Stepping into the porcelain tub, you swing the curtain around, the metal rings at the top clinking against the top bar. You spin the nobs to turn on the water and flip the switch to send it from the tub faucet to the showerhead.

The water that comes gushing out is frigid, but you don’t mind too terribly. You’ve had your fair share of cold showers, especially after that time you went on the run with Steve, Sam, and Nat after the Accords broke up the team. You were just happy to have running water against your scalp. It’s also nice to be able to reach up and work the water into your hair without feeling pain from your injury.

By the time you’ve got your shampoo building up a lather on your scalp, the water finally begins to warm. You adjust the knobs as necessary, hoping that by keeping it at a more lukewarm, the heat may last a little longer. This seems to be the right trick because it doesn’t start to cool until you’re just about finished.

Pushing the curtain back, you step onto the thin bath mat. You grab the towel to dry off your body and hair. You know you won’t have access to a blow drier in a man’s apartment, so the towel is the best you’ve got. With the towel wrapped and twisted around the top of your head, you step back up to the sink to apply the disinfectant cream over your wounds, then protect them with a single square, adhesive bandage over each one.

The floral dress is loose enough that you can step into it and pull it up your legs, feeding your arms through the short sleeves, before it settles on your shoulders. A soft lavender scent fills your lungs where it clings to the fabric from its original owner. You smooth your hand down the dress, sending your thoughts to the woman who wore it before you in the hopes that she won’t mind you borrowing it. It always makes you a little sad when you remember that you’ll never have a chance to meet the wonderful woman that raised the man you love. But wearing this dress helps you feel a little more connected, both to her and to Steve.

You pack your toiletries back into the bag and stash it once more before unwinding the towel from your hair and bundling it in your arms along with the borrowed pajamas. You step out of the bathroom and head back for Steve’s room. You find him sitting on the bed, already dressed for the day, and lacing up his boots. He pauses and looks up at your entrance. His lips part in awe, eyes widening.

“Wow…” he mutters quietly enough that you don’t think he noticed the slip.

You feel the heat in your face building. “It’s a beautiful dress,” you tell him sincerely, glancing down the length of the material.

He has to physically shake himself out of his thoughts, mouth closing as he looks away, embarrassed. “She’d be happy to hear that. It was one of her favorites.” He finishes lacing his boots before he stands. “She’d also be happy to see it getting used again.”

He walks over to you, taking the items from your arms and putting them in the hamper basket he has tucked in the corner of the room by the closet.

“Are you going out?” you question, noting his attire.

He nods, turning toward the dresser inside his still-open closet. He opens one of the single top drawers and pulls out a tie. “Yeah, I’m meeting with Bucky.” He turns up the collar of his shirt and hooks the tie around the back of his neck. “I promise I won’t tell him about you,” he quickly puts in, glancing over at you. His body seems to turn of its own accord when you step up to him; his hands falling away when yours take their place on the fabric of the tie.

“I know you won’t.” You assure him, pulling the length of the tie to one side before beginning to wrap the material around itself. “I trust you.”

You finish tying the knot and tighten it neatly to the base of his neck, noting how his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. Your gaze flicks up, catching the look on his face. He looks just about ready to jump out of his own skin. Your lips turn up into a smile of amusement, though you just barely manage to contain your laugh.

Steve takes a step back, hand smoothing over the length of his tie as his gaze drops from yours. “Um, thanks,” he mutters quietly.

You know you shouldn’t be teasing him like this, but there’s a part of you that can’t help it. Teasing your Steve normally ended with you getting stripped naked and thrown onto the bed. Or pushed up against the wall. Or bent over the couch… All that positive reinforcement for being naughty made it very difficult for you to behave now. Trying to respect his boundaries, you take your own step back to give him a little more space. “If you’re heading out, do you want me to leave too?” you question.

“You don’t have to,” he shakes his head. “You can stay as long as you need, while you recover. I… I trust you, too.” He doesn’t really know why he would admit that to you after only knowing you for half a day. He wasn’t generally a very trusting person. Being an outcast will do that to you. However, you don’t treat him like an outcast. In fact, you’ve been nothing but kind to him and somehow, he can feel in his heart that he really can trust you. He turns once more to the dresser and digs through the other top drawer. “Here,” he offers, holding out a small object in his hand. When you reach to take it, you realize it’s a key. “You can stay if you want. Or you can leave. You can just tuck it under the doormat if you’re gonna go.” Steve has a strange undertone to his words and he won’t meet your gaze. It’s like he knows that by giving you the option to leave on your own, he’ll surely be coming back to an empty apartment.

“Oh, thanks,” you say, unsure what the proper response is here.

“Well, I’m running late, so…” he leaves the words unfinished as he slides the closet door closed and steps around you.

You turn to watch him leave the room with a frown, unsure how his mood soured so quickly. “Steve,” you call after him, stepping into the living room and stopping his movements at the front door.

He looks back at you, hand on the doorknob. You’re not really sure what to say. Before you can come up with anything, he releases a long sigh, gaze dropping. In the next instant, he swings open the door and steps out.

You bite your lip, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. The Steve you know also had issues with saying goodbye. You always thought that it was from plunging into the ice and waking up in a completely different era. That saying goodbye meant there was an uncertainty of ever seeing each other again, and that made him uncomfortable because he knew all too well what it felt like to have an entire life stripped away. You realize now that the scars run even deeper than that.

You try to think about what the best way to handle this is. You know that you can’t just disappear on him. Even if it’s what you should do, the thought alone makes your stomach squirm and you know that you can’t do that to him.

You step into the kitchen, finding your shirt washed and dried on the small kitchen table. The two bullet holes have also been mended with some thread. You wonder if he had done that while you were in the shower. Your heart clenches. You know how sweet and thoughtful he can be, but he still manages to find ways to surprise you. Even here. You have an idea beginning to form in your mind of how you can repay him for the kindness he’s shown you.

You know that you at least need to track down and check-in with Dr. Erskine. With the way things were left last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he waited for your return to the recruitment station and by now, he would be assuming the worst. It wouldn’t benefit you at all to have him running to Colonel Phillips to get an investigation started into your whereabouts, only to discover that your records with the SSR didn’t even exist.

But with a key to Steve’s apartment, nothing was preventing you from coming back… After all, it’s not like you exactly had a place to stay. You’d planned to spend your evenings at a hotel, if necessary, but why waste the money?

With your mind made up, you find a smile slowly beginning to grow on your face. Moving back into the bedroom, you grab the rest of your soiled clothing, so you can have it washed and leave it out to dry while you run your errands. You dump your skirt and panties into the sink, only now remembering that you were currently going commando.

It didn’t really bother you since you’ve done it plenty of times before. It was one of your favorite methods of teasing Steve. Also, it certainly helped with the ease of access to accomplish your end goal. You swear the man had a dick made out of gold, and boy, did he know how to use it. You remember asking him where he learned how to thoroughly fuck a woman’s brains out after your first time together. He had laughed, cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment and he told you that he’d had a good teacher. You assumed he meant Barnes. You never did get a chance to thank the man for his thorough lessons.

With the blood washed out of your skirt and underwear, you set them out to dry and head back for the bedroom. You open the pouch from your thigh holster and use a particle disc to enlarge your miniaturized vintage suitcase. Setting it on the ground in the corner of the room, you pop the latches and crack it open, pulling out a fresh set of undies and new stockings. You put on your undies first before sitting on the edge of the bed to slip the stockings up each leg, the elastic tightening just above your knees, and then slide into your heels. You strap your holster back into place, making sure the pouch is secure, before stepping in front of the floor-length mirror leaning against Steve’s wall to make sure it can’t be seen against the fabric of the dress.

You head for the bathroom next, pulling out the hairpins from your toiletry bag. You don’t go quite as “all-out” as you had yesterday, but you get your hair pinned up enough that it’s passable for this day’s fashion. You apply your makeup next, careful with the heavily pigmented lipstick. Once that’s finished, you’re ready to head out.

Stepping out of the apartment, you lock the door behind you and check to make sure no one is around to watch as you lift your skirt and tuck the key into your pouch for safekeeping. Your heels click down the metal staircase as you descend to the street level. You keep your eyes peeled, making sure the men from yesterday, or others, haven’t shown up in droves looking for you.

The coast seems to be clear and you’re able to make it to the street to hail a taxi without issue. You ride to the World Fair, thinking it might be best to start there, instead of showing up at the lab in civilian clothing, expecting to be let in. You pay the cab fare upon arrival and walk straight to the recruitment station. It’s still fairly early in the morning and most of the Fair attractions are still setting up, so there aren’t as many people around as yesterday.

You wonder briefly if it may even be too early before Dr. Erskine would have shown up, but decide to head in any way. A few doctors and nurses are walking around the facility, getting everything prepared. You walk up to a man sitting behind a desk, who you recognize as the head physician.

“Excuse me,” you call to gain his attention.

He barely even gives you a glance before turning back to the papers he’s working on. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asks distractedly.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in the snide remark. “I’m looking for Dr. Erskine, I was here with him yesterday.”

You hear the sound of a curtain getting pushed open behind you. “Vic!”

Turning around, you find just the man you’re looking for. He gestures for you to meet him in the exam room before he shuts the curtain behind you. “Where have you been?” he asks in a hushed, yet urgent, whisper. “I was beginning to think they had taken you. Or worse!”

“I’m alright. I was able to distract them, but they ended up getting away. I wanted to lay low for the night to make sure they wouldn’t come looking for us.” You decide not to tell him about getting shot for fear that he’ll want to see the wound. He is a doctor, after all.

“This is not good,” he sighs with a shake of his head. “Schmidt is getting too close. We have to stop the project.”

You gape at the words coming out of his mouth and quickly try to rectify the situation. “No!” you insist, reaching out to grip his shoulders. “We can’t give up when we’re this close. I know that we will find the man we need for Project Rebirth soon. If we stop now, then Schmidt will win and we can’t let that happen.”

He gives you a doubtful look. “Is that your faith speaking?”

“Yes,” you tell him frankly.

“Okay,” he concedes. “We will keep going, but we have to be careful to make sure those men don’t find the location of the lab.”

You nod to agree, but then your throat constricts when you realize that they’ll find it anyway. You’d nearly forgotten that Erskine doesn’t get out of this alive. He dies just moments after Steve gets turned into a Super Soldier. Shot to death by a Hydra agent. Could you really let that happen still? Knowing that you can save his life?

But on the other hand, that Hydra Agent is a sure fire way to get that spare sample of the serum. You know that he takes it in his escape from the lab. You also know where he’s planning to go, so you can easily intercept him. If you decide to step in and stop the assassination, the chances of anyone letting you just walk out of that lab yourself with the extra serum were about zero.

You feel the conflict burning inside you and you’re not sure what to do. You attempt to push the thought from your mind, knowing you don’t actually have to make a decision right this moment. “They won’t,” you assure him half-heartedly, the lie tasting sour in your mouth. “For now, you should minimize being seen in public and we should have Colonel Phillips send a few extra MPs to watch over the recruitment center.”

He nods in agreement. “And what about you? Why aren’t you in uniform?” he asks, looking down at the dress you wear.

“I had a bit of a scuffle with those men yesterday. Nothing too serious!” you quickly put in when his brows raise. “But my uniform needed to be cleaned afterward. However, this does also give the advantage of being able to blend in. I can watch around the recruitment center to make sure we haven’t been followed and look for suspicious activity.”

Erskine thinks it over for a moment, “Well, you were the one to notice those men yesterday, so I trust your judgment.”

You spend a few hours with him creating a surveillance plan to monitor the recruitment center that will allow you to watch for any Hydra agents, but also not alarm any of the citizens coming to the Fair. After the extra MPs show up, you take your leave, knowing that they will be able to keep the doctor safe in your absence. From there, you head to a grocery store near Steve’s apartment to grab the items you’ll need for his surprise tonight.

When Steve walks up the stairs to his apartment later that evening, he’s got his hands tucked deep in his pants pockets and his head hanging low. He’s come home to an empty apartment nearly every day of his adult life, so he doesn’t understand why it feels so difficult now. He can smell something delicious cooking through one of his neighbor’s open windows and it makes his stomach growl. He gets to his front door and pauses. Though the curtains are shut on his window, he can see light filtering through from inside, and if he strains his ears, he’s pretty sure he can hear the radio playing a soft melody.

With brows furrowed, he slides his key in place and unlocks the door. Stepping into his home, the delicious smell from outside hits him hard and fills his lungs with warmth. He blinks in surprise. “…Vic?” he calls out in question, unsure if this is really happening or not.

“In the kitchen!” your voice calls back and he’s pretty sure his heart flutters in his chest. And not in a bad way.

He shuts the door behind himself and moves toward the kitchen. The sight before him is one he never thought he’d see. A woman waiting for him to come home and cooking in his kitchen. You’re standing at the stove, stirring a large pot. The scent of the food smells familiar to him, but he just can’t place it.

“What are you making?” he asks.

You send a smile his way in greeting, “Potato soup.”

He slips his coat off his shoulders, placing it on the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “That use to be my favorite as a kid.”

“Oh really?” you try to sound surprised.

“Yeah,” he reaches to loosen the tie from his neck. “I’ve tried to make it on my own a few times, but I can’t seem to find the right recipe. It doesn’t quite taste the same as when my Ma made it.”

You hum in understanding. “Well, I can’t claim to be as good of a cook as her, but hopefully this soup will measure up.” It’s at that moment that a timer begins ringing. “Oh, that would be the biscuits. Do you mind?” you ask, indicating to the oven mitt you’ve left on the counter.

He jumps in, slipping the mitt onto his hand and opens the oven with the other. He pulls out a tray of biscuits cooked to a perfect golden brown. He places the tray on the stovetop next to where you’re cooking the soup. He then closes the oven door and turns it off. “Do you need help with anything else?” he offers.

“Just bowls and utensils. The soup is almost done. You came home just in time,” you smile at him over your shoulder.

He kind of likes the way you say home. Maybe a little too much. He turns to pull two mismatched bowls out of the cupboard and some spoons from the drawers. He sets the bowls on the counter next to you and takes the spoons to the small two-seater table. He pulls out some cloth napkins and plates for the biscuits, seeing that you already have a plate of butter set out with a butter knife.

“Where did all this food come from?” Steve asks. He’s pretty sure he didn’t have all the ingredients you’d need to make potato soup, and he knows for certain that he’s been out of butter for at least a week.

“I went to the store,” you comment off-hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he tells you once again, feeling like a scratched record.

You only laugh. “I know, Steve. But I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” You grab a hand towel to hold one of the bowls as you ladle the hot soup carefully inside. “Take a seat,” you tell him, setting the bowl on the table in front of him.

He knows it’s rude to sit before the lady, but he finds himself complying with your wishes just the same. You pour soup into your own bowl and set it at the table before grabbing the small plates and placing a warm biscuit onto each. Watching you flit around his kitchen like you’ve been there his whole life makes Steve’s entire body ache in ways he’s not used to.

You set the plates down on either side of the table before taking your seat across from him. “Be careful, it’s still pretty hot,” you warn as you take your napkin and set it neatly on your lap. “How was your day out with Bucky?” you ask, figuring small talk will be a good way to pass some time as the soup cools.

“It was good,” he nods, picking up his spoon to stir at the soup in his bowl. “It was kinda nice just being the two of us. He’s been dragging me on all these double dates recently. It’s driving me a little crazy.”

You laugh sweetly. “You’d think your best friend would know your type by now.”

“My type?” he questions, confused.

“You know… the type of woman you’re attracted to.”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t even had a chance to figure that out.”

Your head tilts as you look at him. “You mean you’ve never been attracted to anyone?”

“Well, I have…” he backtracks. “But that’s not the problem. The problem is that they never feel attracted to me. It doesn’t matter what I wear or how I act, next to Bucky I’m just…”

“Steve,” you say gently, reaching your hand across the table to place it over his.

“It’s not a big deal,” he feigns shrugging it off. “I’ve gotten used to being alone.”

You gently squeeze his hand, your heart bleeding for him. You can’t stand the sight of him looking so despondent. To feel resigned to what he thinks is his fate. “You’re not going to be alone forever. I promise that there is someone out there for you. It might take some time, but I know you’ll find happiness.” You might be saying too much, but you hate seeing the sadness in his eyes. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He releases a dry laugh, eyes glued to where your hand touches his. “Are you one of those people that thinks there’s someone out there for everyone?”

Your thumb swipes back and forth over his skin. “No, but I know you’re a good person, Steve. And good people deserve to find happiness.” You wait for him to build the courage to meet your eyes once more. “I don’t measure a person’s worth based on what they look like or how many people they’ve been on dates with. Your actions, your heart, and your courage are what truly define you.”

“Did you read that on a Hallmark card?” he asks, shooting you a wry smile.

You laugh, pulling your hand back. “No. But it sounds like it should be on one, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” he agrees, his smile becoming a little more genuine.

You’re happy to have lifted his spirits and turn to dig into your meal. You cut open your biscuit and fit a slice of butter into its warm center to allow the butter to melt. You watch from the corner of your eye as Steve takes a spoonful of soup and blows gently to cool it off. You nearly hold your breath in anticipation when he raises the spoon to his mouth and gets his first taste.

“Oh my God!” he exclaims around his full mouth, quickly trying to swallow before he speaks further. “This tastes exactly how I remember it when my Ma made this!” He takes another spoonful, closing his eyes and releasing a happy moan with the burst of savory flavor on his tongue. “This is amazing.”

You can’t help but laugh at the child-like giddiness coming from him. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Where did you learn to make this?” he asks after downing another spoonful.

“I actually went through a whole process of trying several different recipes and ways of making it before coming to this particular one.” Your Steve had once mentioned that potato soup had been one of his favorite meals that his mother made for him growing up. When you asked him why he never made it himself, he’d told you that he had never received the recipe from her and didn’t know how to make it the same way. You’d then turned it into your mission to help him find the perfect recipe. It took trying out different variations every other week, until one day, he’d told you that you’d gotten perfectly. At that point, it became a special occasion meal that the two of you would share together.

You’re barely halfway through your own soup by the time he’s scraping at the bottom of his bowl. “Do you mind if I have more?” he asks eagerly.

You grin so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. “There’s plenty left over. Help yourself.” He gets up so quickly that his chair nearly falls over.

You’re pretty sure there’s a saying out there about how nothing quite brings people together like sharing a meal. That certainly seems to be the case with getting Steve to open up to you. As the two of you eat the soup and biscuits, the conversation seems to flow easier and more natural than before. He tells you all sorts of tales about the shenanigans he and Bucky got into growing up and you tell him a few stories from your own childhood.

The sun has long since set and the moon is high in the sky by the time your conversation lulls. At this point, you’re both up and moving about the kitchen. You’re putting away the left-over soup and biscuits while Steve cleans the dishes in the sink.

“Your wound seems to be doing a lot better already,” Steve observes. “I haven’t seen you wince at all tonight.”

You instinctively place a hand to the front of your torso, just over the simple square bandage that lies beneath. The pain was completely gone at this point; that you’d honestly forgotten about it. “I have pain medication that helps,” you quickly come up with an excuse.

“Do you want help checking it?” he offers.

You shake your head, “No, that’s okay. You helped with the worst of it already.”

Steve nods, drying off his hands and setting the towel on its rack by the sink. He exits the kitchen and heads down the hall for the bedroom. You hear him turn on the light with a click. You’re in the middle of cleaning crumbs off the table when you hear him call out to you. “Hey, is this your suitcase?”

Your entire body freezes and your heart jolts. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, realizing that you left it out from this morning. “Uh… yes,” you respond, straightening up and heading down the hall to stand in the doorway of his room. You try to come up with an excuse quickly, heart pounding in your chest. “Sorry, I know it’s kind of presumptuous. I’m only supposed to be in town until the end of the week. I’ve been staying at a hotel nearby. I was going to wait for you to get back, to make sure it was okay if I stayed here with you, but you had already offered and if I didn’t check out by the afternoon, then I would have had to pay for another night.” You’re rambling at this point. “If you don’t feel comfortable with that, then I can-”

“Oh, no!” Steve jumps in, cutting you off. “I’m not going to kick you out,” he assures you. “As I said, you can stay as long as you need.” His lips turn up into a hint of a smirk. “Besides, I’m starting to get used to your company.”

You release a breath of relief, your pounding heart starting to slow. You give him a shaky smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

“And at least you won’t have to fit yourself into Bucky’s pajamas for a second night in a row,” he jokes, stepping over to his closet as he loosens and removes his tie.

You scoff out a quiet laugh, moving back to finish cleaning the kitchen. You mentally scold yourself for being so lax. No more slip-ups. You can’t let Steve find out the truth about you. You can’t afford to compromise the mission.

Part 4

#steve rogers x reader #pre-serum steve x reader #skinny steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader

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magicalsalamander · 5 years ago

Text

Flowers that Speak Poetry

Pairing: BTS Seokjin ⇆ Reader

Summary: Butterflies are one thing, but flowers and butterflies bring prosperity. The Butterfly, a servant to the Flower Inn, home to Anemonas of Anisum, was your home and it was all you knew. However, home for you lied across the yard into the next. In the shadows, Jin painted with needles on bodies, but for you, he painted with brushes butterflies on your skin. Like the butterflies, your heart fluttered when you were with him, but he always called you a child and treated you often as such. However, will your heart always be able to flutter when another offers to buy you from the Inn?

Warning: Rated Mature; explicit language, war imagery/mentions, species-ism(?)/racism(?) -alien vs humans, mentions of alcohol and consumption, slavery, prostitution, tattooing is illegal, trafficking, bullying, abandonment, insecurity in body image, death of minor charactors, it’s alien, dom/sub implications, possessive behavior, soulmates(ish), virgin reader, unprotected sex, fingering and riding.

Words: 25.6K

A/N: Story inspired by the story Mademoiselle Butterfly by Ogura Akane but with its own twist. I’ve read this story when I was younger, and it’s been a favorite for a long time, so I wanted to pay homage to it. I really recommend you read the story after you read this, please. I’m sorry for the delayed release AND GOING UP UNEDITED. Header image edited by me, but I don’t own the photo. Thank you for reading!

masterlist | moodboard

*UNEDITED*

Unceremoniously the wooden screen door slid open, rattling gently as you peered inside inconspicuously. You had heard shouts, even from within the Flower Inn, and felt the tickling need to check it out. Within the living room, the man lying, who had been making a hideous face in the light of pain, startled as he caught you suppressing a laugh. “HEY! Who are yo-ugh!” Grunting at the pain you giggled harder at his inability to complete his thoughts. “Brat, don’t laugh!” He finished that shout with a yowl as the needle pricked him deeper. You covered your mouth suffocating another chuckle.

Ironically the appearance of the customer was exactly as you predicted. He was burly, older, scared from civil battle, maybe not from the capital because of the slight tone in his scream. Human men were always the type to wail like a woman in labor while getting tattooed.

The tougher they are on the outside the weaker their inner heart is.

With a heavy sigh Jin pressed down on the man with his free hand harder, knee jerking to hold him but pausing. “Please don’t move.” The man whined grumbling unsavory words underneath his breath relaxing for a moment before Jin continued to poke the remaining ink of the needle into the outline.

You glanced at the tattoo as Jin turned and dipped his needle tipped stick back into black ink. “Don’t disturb me. I’m in the middle of work right now, Butterfly.” You already could imagine the lighthearted glare he wished he could’ve spared over his shoulder at you. You blatantly disregard the warning tone and carried on as if he hadn’t spoken. Lowering your white canvas apron, you had been using as a makeshift coat, you shook off the droplets of rain on the porch then slipped it back on knotting it in the front. You smoothed out your linen navy skirt, before you placed a docile hand over your chest and bowed forth dramatically. You softly apologized to the customer in your sweetest tone then you relaxed against the doorframe.

Heavy rain fell off the black clay tiles of the roof creating a sporadic cascade of water. The stone steps leading up to the porch were stained a dark grey as water pooled on their surface. The dark wood of Jin’s home appeared darker, but the white walls even brighter as the grey clouds looming over dispersed light. Borgo was archived by old buildings built from when the first humans settled on Anisa seven hundred years ago. You had heard that humans, your species, came from a planet called Earth. The planet itself was gone, but the few human languages spoken was the only true remainder of old Earth on Anise. Guerrian was quickly replacing the old tongue with the new regime’s customs.

Jin was a man of his work, requiring peace and quiet—then there was you. He was used to your shenanigans, they never phased him anymore; fourteen years of familiarity tends to create a tolerance for chaos. He raised a brow expectantly at you, but you held his gaze as you further relaxed against the doorframe, slumping into your spot in spite. You might even grow roots there if you so felt like it. Sighing heavily, he rolled his eyes, he returned to his work receiving a hiss as he began tattooing again. A small smile pulled at your lips in your small victory.

You took a deep breath in, falling into a natural rhythm you had with Jin. The crisp, autumn air was causing the tip of your nose to inflame in response to the chilled, wet air. It was refreshing compared to the air within the Inn. Something about this air was completely different from just over the fence. Even the way the rain hit his roof was different. You smiled at the tree that sat in Jin’s yard as most of the leaves had turned auburn. It was as if they had absorbed the molten heat from the previous summer and it left a scar in place of the once vibrant green. It was all we had to hold from the blistering summer as it had long past and it only reminded you that winter was quickly approaching. You wondered if Earth had similar seasons like you do on Anise.

Turning away from the yard you asked habitually. “Can I get one next Jin?”

“No.” Short and sharp.

You chuckled under your breath.

For now, you were content to sit and watch his wide shoulders that narrowed to his waist as he meticulously worked on the tattoo. Jin’s work was always incredible, to think it came from him poking a needle in and producing a masterpiece. A dragon, so Jin called it, curved around the man’s back with the face of the beast between his shoulder blades. You remember seeing the dragon piece in his sketchbook and having to ask him what that was. Apparently, it was an ancient Earth beast that used to roam. He had proven it with an old book he had that his grandpa had left him that had all types of creatures that used to live on Earth.

You changed your mind after that, you were glad you didn’t live on Earth or ever saw it.

It was when the man shifted his head, burying it in his elbow suppressing groans that you noticed his hair was cut short. It was a fresh cut. Would this man’s tattoo heal in time? Your chest squeezed at an even more churning though. Would Jin ever have to cut his hair short too? The large tattoo meant that he feared the red letter more than the needle. You knew it though, the fear was inevitable, weren’t all young men when they neared thirty? If they lived long enough to see it that is.

You brushed the thoughts away, physically dusting yourself off with shooing sounds to accompany it like you were warding off evil. It was no use worrying about that when there’s no letter in hand.

Jin finally spared a glance over his shoulder, the customer sighing in relief for a short break. “Butterfly.”

You froze, the look he gave you had your heart doing somersaults; his gaze wasn’t unique or uncharacteristic, it was simply him existing, but his cordial calmness gave him this ethereal command. Butterflies within your stomach fluttering to their content enticed by the honey tone of his voice. His black hair was parted but the strands curved and hung off his forehead outlining his honey skin. The long, lilac robe made that went to his knees if he stood was made of silk, the white collar that formed a V from the crossing of the lapels framed his neck. His black pants accompany the ensemble made of the same material of his robe. He told you his outfits were traditional. It was what his grandpa wore, so would he.

You couldn’t help the tinge of heat that rose to your cheeks as he called your name again and you met his raised brow.

For sure he had caught you staring.

“They’re calling you.”

“No, they did’n—.” Your lips formed a pout, although the motion didn’t clog your ears as you wish they had been.

From next door, the Flower Inn, Cherry was out in the yard shouting, “Butterfly! I can’t believe I’m standing in the rain for this girl! Butterfly!”

Your shoulders sunk.

Cherry’s voice grew louder, “BUTTERFLY! I swear to the gods if you are at Kim’s and not doing YOUR CHORES—!” Her booming voice sent a shiver down your spine and you were at attention immediately not caring to hear the rest of what she had to say. There was only one Anemona you feared and that was Cherry… second to the Mistress, and if she found out you were here…

You shot up from your spot!

“I’ll be back later Jin!” You paused struggling to pull your apron back over your head. ”Bye Mister! Come back safe!”

The man receiving the tattoo found it upon himself to chuckle and waved at you as you scurried across the yard holding up your skirt to keep it from getting wet while still holding your apron over your head. You hopped over the fence with slightly struggle nearly tripping as your skirt caught on a branch of a bush. They could hear murmurs between you and Cherry as you shouted, “I’m okay! I’m good—no, I didn’t trip Cherry. All good! Ah, wait, Cherry! Stop pulling me, I’ll come willingly—!” Resounding giggles filtered through as you wiggled out of her grabbing your ear. You ran towards the Inn with Cherry shouting about you running off again.

The man rested his head on his forearm chuckling lightly. “She’s cute. Is she an Anemone?”

Dipping his needle in the viscous ink he let it drip off like his smile. “No, she’s a child.”

The customer laughed, “A child? She looks ripe to me.”

He winced, convulsed in pain, then shouted colorful profanities he couldn’t understand.

Jin finally moved his knee up and gently placing it on the man’s lower back only using only some strength. His black eyes evolved as his pupils bursted orange. “YAH, I said don’t move! How many times do I have to tell you. Don’t make me tell you again!” He dug his knee in a bit for emphasis.

The customer whimpered burying his face further into their elbow.

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

Fits of giggles were loud through the screen doors as loud grunts and boisterous drunk laughter followed. You dropped the serving tray back in the kitchen staring longingly outside the kitchen window. The cooks were busy with their backs turned and other servant girls were on route. You eyed the fresh pastries on the table and quickly slipped a few onto a napkin and tucked them away in your apron pocket. They were so warm as if you had put a warm stone in your pocket. The thought alone made you shimmy in place.

Quick on your feet you dashed out of the kitchen. You peered down the hall waiting for signs of stirring, but quickly you realized it was clear. The multicolored lanterns hanging from the ceiling were bathing the hall in warm light and flickered as you sped by. You crept down the hall down towards the servant’s quarters; your newest escape route after getting chewed out by Cherry. Your feet were light on the polished wooden floor that was so glossy it twinkled thanks to your handiwork. A small smile pulled your lips imaging the smile from Jin when he takes a bite. Should you have swiped more?

Eyes widening you plastered yourself in a crevice against the wall behind a dresser as an Anemona stumbled out of a hosting room with a customer. The customer’s cheeks were red and high in happiness as he drunkenly laughed. His pupils were dilated and red, all the same, but you missed it in his sudden movement. In a blink of an eye he had her pressed up against the wall on the other side of you. They shared a lasting kiss, sounds emanating from both of their throats and your cheeks would’ve flushed if it was the first time you had seen it; being twenty-three you had seen more than a pure eye could handle over the past decade and some. You waited for them to stumble down the hall towards her room. You sunk further into the shadows as the dresser jostled as he stumbled. In a husky laugh he pressed her up against the wall breathing hotly on her neck. Curiosity got the best of you as you leaned over gripping on the dresser as you peered over. Your eyes widen as big as saucers. You recognized her, one of the thirty Anemona that worked at the Inn, but what was her name? Was it, you scrunched your brows…Daisy? No. You wrestled through the countless names, but none felt right. You weren’t close to anyone though. Cherry was the only one you spoke to regularly. Well…spoke to was a loose term around these parts.

You slunk back as her eyes flickered about his face. He attempted to whisper but instead spoke loudly. “Let me buy you, Lily.”

She twirled the hair at the nape of his neck with well-manicured fingers, “What can you give me Sir?”

“I am a Guerra of ranking! I can give you anything. Get you out of this Inn, of Borgo, and into my palace.”

She giggled. “Palace? You live in the palace?” He hummed sinking into her neck and taking a loud sniff. She pets the back of his hair, “Buy me then. I want it all.”

He growled full of lust, “But first let me see you in your room.”

She giggled taking his hand as they raced by you, his figure appeared like a large shadow in his haste as they whisking away upstairs towards the second and third floor rooms. You couldn’t remember which one was hers. At some point so many women had passed through these walls that you didn’t bother learning their names. Especially when a man would moan it in ecstasy. You knew they were all going to be bought by someone. You sighed heavily when their footsteps disappeared. Third floor, they went to the third floor.

You may not have known her name, but you knew of her. Had seen her face countless times. You knew she was in love with the boy who worked in the kitchen, the one that made the pastries. You caught glimpses of them when they thought they weren’t being seen. After you leaned against the door one day, catching him with a dreamy expression after she left the kitchen. You struck a deal with him; he’d make extra pastries just for you as long as you kept his affair a secret. Suddenly the pastries in your pocket didn’t feel so warm. You couldn’t lift your gaze as you stared at the floor feeling almost paralyzed. In this world, your world, moments like these you’re reminded you have a debt to pay. There wasn’t room for choice. You had a debt to pay just as much as everyone else.

Anise was a planet you used to call home until it was torn apart. It was constantly at war as you had heard from the whispers of elders and retold stories of their parents. Years ago, your father never returned after he was forced to cut his hair short. His red letter on the table as his hair surrounded it. He joined the army to fight in the uprising against the Guerra, quietly leaving that night. It was your mother, two siblings and you until your town was affected by the war. Guerra were known as true warriors, a fearless and fierce race. No one knew of them; galaxies far and wide had never heard of them until they began integrating and conquering planets. Quickly they became the feared from the edge of the universe, but what was even more unnerving that they looked human like.

You remember in flashes the night when they came to Silva, of them in packs, tall, ominous shadows with red pupils, swords and fist a light as you huddled under the window with your family. You remember seeing the flames reflected in your mother’s eyes, before it felt too warm where you hid.

Your mother took you and your siblings and escaping Silva, but in the new town your mother grew a debt despite working herself to the bone trying to feed you and your siblings. You were the oldest. Clearly you can recall the warmth of her hand, the grey sky, and the damp soil as she walked you through the town of to the merchant. With tears streaming down her face as you pleaded with her, she promised to come back for you. She promised, but promises were never forever.

The merchant took you to Anisum, the capital overtaken from the humans by the Guerra a hundred years before you, even though you put up a fight. She was going to come back for you, but how was your mom supposed to find you if you were in Anisum? You don’t remember much besides the hunger pains, the cold nights in Winter as you sat in back of the horse drawn cart next to other young human girls and boys. The cart pulled up next to places across the capital and into nearly every district. The kids dismounted as the merchant bargained with the shop owners or people. You were the last in the cart. In the district of Borgo, the merchant pulled up an Inn, the Flower Inn, the building silhouetted in darkness from the twilight hours, but from the windows of the three floors emanated light. The entrance door clanked open as the heavy doors swung open and the Mistress stepped out onto the street. The merchant nodded and she quirked a brow. Your head was tipped back her index under your chin as she looked you over. She said nothing about your runny nose or tears slipping from your eyes. Her gaze was chilling as it was unreadable and stoic, yet you couldn’t stop crying. Quietly she turned and placed a few coins in the merchant’s hand, then the merchant shoved you out of the cart. You struggled to get up, your weak knees and limbs were tired. The wheels of the cart turned as the merchant left. The Mistress went inside and your elbow was yanked until you stood. You gazed at the person picking you up, although at the time you had no idea, it was Cherry, a human who just a few years older than you. “Come inside, it’s cold. There’s much work to do.”

You nodded wiping your face and you followed her inside Flower Inn.

Although at the time you were none the wiser, but you grew to realize where you were sold to. Borgo, the city of the forgotten, where the humans are of the servant class and the Guerra gain pleasure. It’s the only district between the divided land of humans and Guerra where both species roam freely. The Flower Inn was no stranger to pleasure, entertaining and catering to Guerra and wealthy human alike, as long as they had money they were welcomed.

The sound of giggles brought you from your memories. Your eyebrows knitted as you sighed at the reality of the rhythmic thumping coming from the ceiling. You’re going to have to do extensive laundry after the amount of council members that decided to visit tonight to celebrate something you couldn’t bother to remember. Emerging from the shadows you crept down the dimly light hall until you snuck into the shadows again and slipped outside. Chirping from nightcrawlers greeted you in symphony and the cold night air had you shivering instantly. You looked up to the night sky the two moons shining bright in the east and the third, just a small after image, in the western sky. Feeling a chilled breeze, you pulled your arms tighter around you uselessly. The night air always dropped towards freezing, temperature dropping dramatically as soon as the sunset. You worked fast across the yard as you made your way into the neighboring yard, breath near visible. The tree in his yard was your guide as the green leaves glowed golden softly. The midrib and veins of the leaves had a bioluminescence, coming to life at night from the stored solar energy during the day. It was the only tree in Borgo that did that, it was like it was alive. Like his tree, scattered warm light was visible from the frosted glass of his screen doors and windows. You instinctually smiled, he was still awake. You nearly jogged up to his porch, kicking your shoes off before you climbed up onto the porch leaving your shoes on the stone steps. You opened the never locked door without prompting finding Jin sitting in front of a table on the floor painting another sketch. Warmth instantly embraced you like you were sitting in front of a furnace.

“Jin, I’m home!” You teased.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

You sighed slipping down next to him. “Thanks for the welcoming. It’s great to see you too Jin.” When he didn’t humor you, you continued on a small rant resting your chin on the table. “They’re already drunk. At this point those men are searching for something else besides alcohol. I could hear the coins dropping form their satchels with every fake giggle.” You rolled your eyes, “Tell me Jin, are men that simple that a single laugh can empty a man’s wallet?”

He laughed at that breaking his concentration, causing you to smile at the squeaky sound. You quickly fished out the goodies that were still steaming. “I brought you some Junq tarts.” You handed him one before you took one.

He grabbed your wrist faster than your eyes could process his movement as you brought the pastry to your lips. His hand was stained black from his ink. Your eyes flickered from the treat to his with your mouth still wide open. He glared at you, “Did you eat, or did you skip again?”

Your mouth clamped shut as you blushed. You tried ignoring his question by still attempted to bring the pastry so sweetly calling your name to your mouth. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he plucked it out of your hand setting it away from you, including his. He’s learned from experience. You whined defeatedly rubbing your wrist dramatically. “Fine. No. It got too busy I didn’t have the time.” The Mistress had informed you and all other staff an hour before the arrival of the Guerrian government officials. To say you were busy was an understatement, and your stomach grumbled loudly against your will in convenient timing. A pastry wouldn’t kill you, but Jin always wanted you to eat properly. He laughed as he got up, adjusting his silk, blue robe taking the treats with him as he went to the kitchen to prepare you a meal. He grumbled, “Now I have to start a fire.” You longingly stretched out your hand as you watched him take the treats away.

You were nearly drooling when Jin had placed food in front of you. You looked to him with gleaming eyes and thanked him for the meal. That was another thing Jin was great at. He could cook a delicious meal out of the simplest ingredients. His meals were worthy of being served at a royals table. You moaned at the first bite of food as the bite of braised meat and rucke grain nearly melted in your mouth. He gazed at you with a smile before he picked up his brush and began painting again. You nearly shoveled the food in your mouth choking on how delicious it was. He patted your back, “Slow down, there’s more in the kitchen. No one is going to take your food.” Your cheeks flushed as you sipped on water clearing your throat. You nodded and began asking him about his day. You ate slower, keeping conversation with the background being accompanied by soft hum of distance music from the Inn.

After nearly licking your plates clean, not leaving a single grain of rucke, you rolled over onto your back snatching a cushion to rest your head on. You watched Jin as he carefully dragged his brush on the paper, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You felt content, you could fall asleep. Fighting off sleep you sat up, all be it slower because of your full stomach. Softly you called to him to gain his attention, “Jin~Jin, Jin-ie.” You held out your wrist and forearm for him. “Draw something for me.” He sighed taking your hand gently into his, the stains of ink only randomly on the tips of his fingers. His long, slim fingers grazing over your soft skin almost medically, but you brightened thinking how delicate he always was with you. His hands were always warm, but it was just something that was always true for him. Your heart was racing, and you tried your best to suppress it.

“The usual?” You nodded.

He dipped the brush and began carefully painting. It sent a small shivers down your spine as the cool ink touched your skin.

You had met Jin fourteen years ago when you were nine and he was thirteen. The house was originally owned by his grandfather, but he had passed six years ago. Jin took over the family business, continuing to practice although tattooing was considered illegal; In Borgo, anything went, as long as the officials who cared didn’t catch you. Customers still came.

The first week at the Inn, Cherry pushed you out the entrance tossing you a satchel of coins with a list of things to pick up from the market. Feeling lost you trudged your way towards the street following the makeshift map Cherry had drawn out for you. Confused at the simple line drawing, you paused when out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of movement coming from the house across the Inn. As you peered over the fence like a bandit, you saw a boy sitting on the porch hunched over a floor table. He looked to be very concentrated in what he was doing. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you wanted to see what he was doing, but you underestimated the strength of the fence. It collapsed forward into his yard and you screamed, faceplanting into grass and bushes. Startled he dropped his brush and rushed over to you helping you up, nearly fishing you out of the bushes. He laughed once he realized you were okay. You forgot about your pain as you were surprised by the sound of his laugh. It was unique and it reminded you of when you polished the floors. Your face had blade of grass and dirt stuck to it. He crouched down then brushed it off. You felt like a brief zap of static shock zip through you at his soft touch. When your eyes met his, your heart skipped a beat, his near black eyes were captivating. He was handsome and if your face wasn’t flushed before it was then. Immediately you wanted to run from embarrassment, but he introduced himself with a full smile. After a confession of why you were lurking at his fence, he showed you what he was working on. It was a sketch of a butterfly. Your eyes lit up and immediately. He watched you carefully as you turned to him holding the paper. “It’s beautiful.”

Butterfly…it all started with a butterfly.

After persuasion and consistent pestering, you wanted a picture for yourself. Instead of giving you a sketch Jin would practice painting butterflies on your arm. A simple design his grandfather gave him to do over and over again. His grandfather always emphasized the basics; a foundation was important. Over the years it became more intricate as Jin became more skilled, but it was always a butterfly for you. You would come back to the Inn and the other girls began calling you Butterfly. Your real name was to never be spoken at the Inn, it was to be forgotten, erased…except Jin knew of it. He was the only one that knew you were Y/N Y/L/N, Butterfly.

Just being by his side…you were happy.

Your forehead was nearly resting on his. His scent was surrounding you like a warm embrace, a mix of the smell of ink and something floral. He looked up and your faces were only inches apart. You held his gaze, his eyes full of unspoken adoration. Your eyes dipped to his lips as he licked them, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. You missed the rose gold color blooming in his pupils as he closed his eyes. He pulled away placing the paint brush back onto the holder. “There.”

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you played it off by checking out his drawing. Had he thrown another log into the oven? It was two butterflies that were fluttering towards you. It was beautiful. You looked up and Jin was already watching you, eyes black but with glimmers of gold that must’ve reflected from the lantern on his table. Your eyes flickered to his lips again before you looked down at your wrist. Surely were imagining what you were feeling just now.

“Thank you Jin.”

He hummed, flicking his eyes low as he waited for all the emerging and existing color to drain before letting go.

A smirk bloomed on your face, “Now, about the Junq treats.”

He laughed, a devious expression setting on his features as he looked up. You knew that look. You saw it coming before his comment. “What do you think held me over in the kitchen while I cooked for you.”

Your jaw drop, “No. No you didn’t Jin! You didn’t! You didn’t eat them all.”

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“JIN!”

Muted sliver of silver and golden light peeked through the door as you cracked open one of the sliding doors. Jin was sound asleep on his floor futon mattress with a single arm strung out from his thick, pink comforter. Pink due to a mistake you had made, but that wasn’t for discussion. The back of his hand stained black from dried ink with splatters on his forearm. Like a serpent it slithers back into his comforter as he groaned in protest when you opened one door completely letting in the bright afternoon light into the once dark room. Particles of dust floated through light that illuminated him before you pushed both doors open. He flipped over on his futon away from you, covering his face back into his pillow and pulling his comforter over his head. Tussles of his hair was still poking out like weeds.

“Kim Seokjin, it’s noon already! Get up.”

He groaned, voice husky from sleep. “Nooo.”

You left the doors purposefully open, letting in the cold air even though it was causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. The cold was one of the only way you found you could rouse him from sleep, Summers were always more difficult and you had to get creative then. He groaned tucking himself deeper into his comforter on the futon, weeds disappearing. Your nose scrunched at the strong smell of alcohol. You picked up dishes and empty bottles of alcohol before you dropped them off where they belonged. You knew he had his friends over the previous night. It was rare that all his friends could visit. When he had told you they were coming you were excited. As usually he rolled his eyes at you mumbling to himself. The six of them always treated you like a sister and brought souvenirs from their travels. You were too busy the previous night working. Correction. You attempted to sneak out but were caught red handed by Cherry. You were monitored for the rest of the night and had to help clean up all the hosting rooms as well as punishment.

You really needed a better method.

With your hands on your hips, you poked at his back with your foot nearly rocking him. “Yah! Get up. It’s noon! You have to get up.” He just wiggled with your shoving. Frustrated at the lack of progress you got on your knees attempting to yank the blanket off. “Jin, wake up! You have to start the day. Don’t you have customer’s today?”

Suddenly he rolled onto his back and grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. With a late scream he dragged you down onto the futon next to him. His very warm breath tickled your face as he moaned. “Sleeeeep.”

Your face heated and your heart was beating fast. You swallowed as you tried pushing against his firm chest. That was something interesting about Jin you had never seen him exercise, yet from the glimpses you got of his arms during the summer, he was built and toned. He slowly began slumping over you holding you down. He was heavy. He nearly was laying on top of you as he held you within his embrace tighter. He didn’t budge as much as you tried. You felt like you were going to combust from your heart alone, but was he running a fever? You froze as he tucked his head into your neck. His lips were grazing your skin. He huffed hot air onto your neck. “Sleeeep, Butterfly, pleaasse.”

“J-J-Jin.”

He lifted his head up from where it was tucked in your neck pouting. You couldn’t help the chuckle as you cupped his cheek stroking just under his eye. He made a sound that was akin to a purr. Even when he just woke up he was still handsome. He blinked sleepily at you and you saw a flash of yellow in his eyes. It happened so quick you nearly missed it, but you couldn’t second guess it.

“JIN!” A booming voice interrupted as the door opened. The man gasped closing the door immediately, “Sorry! I didn’t know you had someone over!”

Jin inhaled deeply before he got up, mumbling angrily, “No one will let me sleep today.” You laid their blinking hand still in the position it was stroking his cheek. You hadn’t even realized you had cupped his cheek. “Jimin, it’s okay. It’s just Butterfly.” You winced. Your hands slowly curled and lowered to your chest. It shouldn’t have hurt; he always called you a child and treated you like one. You brought your knees to your chest before you sat up.

Jimin opened the door again and peeked inside his brown hair making an appearance first. His eyes formed half-moons with his short smile as he greeted you and you politely returned it. He was one of the six. Jin was an isolationist, but somehow, he had a close tight knit group of friends. Out of all of them, Jimin was the least you knew about. He was enigmatic only coming in and leaving as far as you were aware.

“Why are you here Jimin?”

“I have an appointment.”

Jin raised a brow, hair still a voluminous bird’s nest. “What?”

Jimin chuckled, eyes turning into halfmoons. “Ah, you’re finally showing your age if you can’t remember last night. Lay off the partying old man will ya.”

A playful growl bubbled in Jin as he yapped neck elongating to spit out a monologue. Jimin continued cutting him short, “I’m actually late, but I knew you’d still be asleep. You agreed last night that you would finish my tattoo.”

Jin grumbled, rubbing his face to dispel sleep, going along with it. “Alright, alright, let me get set up.” He looked over to you, “Butterfly, can you make some tea for us?”

You nodded and made your way over to the kitchen. You missed the glance that Jimin gave you as you walked past him.

You sighed as you brewed tea, his words echoing in your mind. The way he was looking at you earlier had your heart fluttering, but now it was flatlining. You were just a servant at an Anemone house none the less. Jin…was different, it was evident in his facial structure. He was gorgeous and he could have any woman he wanted. Of course, he wouldn’t want a, a—child like you.

When the water was boiling you dropped in tea leaves and watched them sink. Standing there for a moment you let it steep. Placing cups on a tray and the kettle you brought out the tea. With practiced ease you maneuvered like you always do at twilight hours. Jimin was already sitting in the cleared room at the floor table. You placed the tray on the table and began serving with both hands. Jimin stared at you as you poured him tea as well as an awaiting cup for Jin. He couldn’t help admiring your gentleness.

“Thank you Butterfly.” You looked up at him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes that had him returning it.

“I’m taking my leave.” You gathered the skirt of your dress as you closed the porch door behind you without sparing a glance.

Jin came back in the room with jars of ink and tools. Jimin raised a brow as he sipped loudly at his tea. “Is she okay?”

Jin quirked a brow not catching on as he set up his inks and needle. His eyebrows scrunched in contemplation before settling, “Mhmm-yeah, why?”

Jimin shrugged, setting his tea down. “I guess it’s just been a while since I’ve seen her.”

It was quiet except for the ceramic clinking and the tapping of tools as Jin maneuvered.

“You know Hoseok has his eye on a girl in that house, but you know how his parents are. They’re trying to push a girl from the upper side, some sort of alliance thing.”

Jin hummed as if to say he was listening, but his head was still throbbing lightly from the hangover sitting in. He looked around and sighed in relief seeing the tea cup as he took a large gulp.

“—it’ll only be a matter of time before she becomes an Anemona.”

“What?” Jin questioned tuning in to Jimin’s chatter, setting down the empty cup.

“Butterfly. It’s only time before that Mistress makes her one too. Human women are now becoming a commodity. The human population is dwindling and the Uppers are seeing to it by buying them.”

“No.”

Jimin shrugged, “That’s a shame—she’d earn a lot if she did. She’s grown up really well. Maybe I—.”

Jin glared at him, burgundy tinging within his pupil, “Don’t you dare. I know what you do with women.”

Jimin chuckled his nails clinking against the ceramic cup. “Why not? She’s grown and can decide for herself.”

Jin glared, opening his jars more intensely than necessarily. “She’s a child! she doesn’t need you and your playboy ways to taint her.”

Jimin laughed nearly falling over. “Child? When are you going to stop using that excuse. I mean Jin, do your eyes work properly? She’s far from being a child anymore.” Ignoring the glare sent his way, Jimin continued, but near mumbling it. ”Honestly, she’s prettier than any of those girls in that house, you know it. She could open her own Inn if she wanted.”

“Why don’t you buy her then?”

Silence answered Jimin back as he had expected. Jin curling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Alright, ready. Lay down.”

Jimin eagerly removed his jacket and shirt exposing the crane tattoo that was partially done on his back. Jimin settled down excited. Jin wondered for a moment how he wasn’t hungover, but then quickly he remembered Jimin’s tolerance level was unmatched. He can’t even remember what happened last night. Humans could always consume fermented drinks as if it was their job—especially Jimin.

After mapping out the rest in his head, Jin dipped the needle into black ink swirling it around for a moment. He moved over to Jimin, pressing down harder than necessary and stabbed into his skin. “OU-OW-OWOWOWCH—shhh---HHH!” Jimin cried out, teeth clenched and lower lips wiggling.

Jin shrugged, smacking his friend’s arm as if he hadn’t put extra force into the prick. “Don’t move.”

Jimin glared at him before yelping again. “JIN! THAT HURTS!”

You hung up the last of the laundry as you hummed a tune Jin had been humming recently to keep yourself awake. You hadn’t slept well last night as nightmares had clouded your dreams with shadow men with red eyes and images of your mother being pulled away by them disturbed you. It all was in flashes and you can’t remember much of it, but each time you closed your eyes again it played again.

You hummed louder to yourself.

Snowflakes fall down

And get farther away little by little

I miss you (I miss you)

How long do I have to wait

And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend

To see you (to see you)

To meet you (to meet you)

You smirked at the thought of when you had caught him mindlessly singing it as he cooked dinner for the both of you the other day. Yoongi had been working on producing the piece and had come over to show it to Jin weeks before, you just happen to be there. You wiped the sweat from your brow, the sun was beaming down strong in the sky. All the ice had melted, and the flora and plants were anew—spring had arrived.

You paused as you picked up another clean piece of bedding then shaking it out. You felt their stares before you met their upturned chins as Anemonas walked by. You stared wistfully; they were gorgeous with dresses made of silk like fabric that you were sure was expensive and hair carefully done so that there wasn’t a stray strand. They looked like they’ve never cleaned or worked a day in their life. They walked with poise and grace that only high tiered Anemona could ever poise. It almost seemed like they were gliding across the floors. They were beautiful and your hands were calloused.

They smirked and near snorted when they caught you staring. You turned away continuing to adjust the fabric, but your ears were still alert. You barely picked up the whispers between them.

“That’s the one that bothers the artist? How pitiful.”

“Doesn’t she know her place?”

“You think he uses her?”

“Have you seen him? He’d never go for her. You’re more suited for him.” They giggled as they kept walking.

Your expression flattened but you worked to keep your face neutral as if you hadn’t heard their remarks. You had swallowed all those feelings, even Jin’s, and let things return to normal. You could swallow your feelings if it meant you could keep being around Jin. As they passed you turned back around and hung up another blanket.

As long as you could be next to Jin, you were happy. That’s all you need.

As you were about to place the remaining last clip you heard stomping coming from the hall. The Mistress was in her slip, it was rare to not see her fully dressed. You watched curiously as she nearly jogged down the hall, her face angry and for once you were glad it wasn’t you on the receiving end of that expression. You laughed at the thought. You turned back and hung up the rest of the laundry still carrying the melody.

Passing by the edge of the cold winter

Until the days of spring

Until the days of flower blossoms

Please stay, please stay there a little longer

----Later

An hour before sunset you were in the kitchen sorting and polishing cutlery. You were talking to pastry boy as he was sneaking small bits food to you. Lilly may not be here anymore, but he still gave you treats. As you popped in a treat savoring the sweet flavor, the kitchen door swung open. Clattering from other various staff sounded as everyone shook. You nearly choked as the Mistress gaze searched the kitchen instinct to run kicking in. Her fiery gaze landing on you. On reflex quickly you swallowed the treat as if your life depending on it. She strode up to you, small, slim figure cutting through the crowd like a knife. Her long black hair flowed wildly around her pale face, but the motion couldn’t compare to her wild gaze. “Come with me now!”

Just when you thought you had evaded her wrath for a day. You wiped off your shaky hands on your apron and bowed, “Yes, Mistress.”

She looked around the kitchen to wide eyed staff, “Get back to work.”

Silently you followed her to her office. She nearly collapsed into her wooden seat but still attempted to do it gracefully. On an exhale, “Butterfly.”

You stood in front of her desk kneading the dirty skirt of your dress. What had you messed up so bad that you were being called to her office? You quickly recalled all recent events. Was this about you stealing pastries? No, you do that all the time. Or was it when you accidently walking in on the couple? Look, you hadn’t eaten and you were a bit tired, they should’ve locked the door. On second thought, maybe this was about you–.

“You shall serve tonight.”

Her statements cleared your thoughts. Your head whipped up jaw slack. “Mistress? I-I believe you are mistaken. I’m not a—.”

Her nostrils flared, “Silence.”

You sealed your mouth.

“An honorable guest has requested you, and this is an offer I cannot refuse. I owe his father a great deal of a favor. You will serve.”

She stood up, face softening as she saw your eyes gloss over. “Butterfly, you are no longer a child.” Your hands scrunched in the skirt of your dress tighter. Those words clung to you like oil. So much was happening your mind was racing a million miles per hour. You’ve watched for years and could probably do it all blindfolded, but that doesn’t mean you wanted to. You didn’t want to.

She began to slowly step closer to you, speaking much softer than before. She played with a loose piece of hair as she tilted her head almost. “Oh Butterfly.” Your eyes lifted until you met hers until they lowered again. “Do you remember that night that I bought you?”

You nodded once.

“I saw something in you, and I only invest in potential. All my girls are of the highest standard. Now I expect to reap those investments back. I saved you, so now save me this favor.”

A knock at the door sounded with two older retired Anemonas coming in after. They were the ones who took care of the styling and dressing of the girls. With a wave of the hand the Mistress commanded, “Get her dressed and ready.”

With a minor bow they surrounded you grabbing your elbow. You felt defensive tightening up. “Come along dear.”

You wanted to argue, but what could you?

You had a debt to pay…just like everyone else.

You didn’t argue as they washed your body with luxurious soaps that made you smell as the others did. You didn’t argue as they twisted and pinned your hair in a specific way. It was as beautiful as you had seen on the others. Or how they painted your face to their liking, red lips being the point. You slipped on the tight slip, then into the silk burgundy skirt that had gold embroidery skillfully woven into it to appear as highlights when the fabric moved. Pulling it up you realized the skirt had two slits in the front just apex at the top of your thighs creating a panel in the front. The bodice was a halter that followed the design of the skirt as they laced you up from the back as you held the bodice up. Finally, with a last heave the dressed forced you to stand upright, they tied it off in a large bow. They finished it off by adoring you in golden bracelets, anklets and hoop earrings, which felt like shackles to you despite their statement of luxury.

As you sat at the vanity staring at your reflection the Mistress came in, she was similarly dressed in her own gown. From the vanity assorted hair pins were displayed. Humming under her breath in approval she picked up a gold pin with a ceramic multi petaled flower at the end. From the flower were string chains of pearls and a butterfly. With ease she slipped it in your hair then placed her hands on your shoulders softly. “You look beautiful, Butterfly.”

You couldn’t recognize the person in the mirror. It was you, but it wasn’t at the same time.

“You will serve Mr. Park tonight. He is the son of the Guerrian Collation Ambassador for Human government. Treat him well.”

Your stomach sunk even further. This person was so high ranking why would they want you? Your eyes slowly looked up to her, “Yes, Mistress.”

Anemonas came into the room and they paused nearly crashing into one another as they stared at you. You wanted to curl in upon yourself, but your dress didn’t allow you. One who you recognized from the when you were doing laundry earlier. Her eyes scanned you, what you didn’t realize was stunned in surprised before she quickly hid it. You hadn’t had the chance to learn their name, nor would you want to. Her voice was clipped, “Hurry girl, he is here now.”

Your legs feel like jelly, but somehow stiff as you walked. You had little practice in the stilted shoes they wore, but that wasn’t why your limbs were stiff. Walking down the hall brought a new feeling to you. A door slid open as Cherry stepped into the hall before pausing. Her eyes widened, “Butterfly?” You held her gaze before you looked back in front of you. She stepped out into the hall watching as you descended the stairs to the first floor. She clenched her fist and quickly turned down the hall.

The girls ushered you and hissed harshly at you. “You cannot mess this up! Do you realize who he is? You! Cannot! Mess! This! UP! Do you hear me?”

How had they known his face? Apparently, he had been here before, but why had he requested you? Had this person seen you serving drinks before? Why you? Why you! You tried to be as discrete as possible, a no name servant among the Flowers. So…why you?

As you had watched Cherry done before, you swallowed your nerves as you steeled your face. Passing the first host rooms the people within were already laughing as their shadows danced on the paper screen door. Night had settled comfortably in the sky, three moons just near peaking. You counted the seconds that passed with each clatter of coins falling from the adjacent room. The laughs being the refractory period between drops. The lanterns above didn’t feel bright enough to guide you forth suddenly and you were running on pure instinct. Pausing at the last room you waited in front of the screen door. Your hands were trembling as you assumed stance that you’ve seen a million times.

The girls opened the sliding doors in unison, and you took a stable step forward that even surprised yourself. “Thank you for having me tonight, I’m Butterfly.” Slowly you raised your head to increase the tension. Playing coy was always the game. At the other end of the table as they lower a ceramic shot glass from their thick lips, his eyes were brazened as his chin jutted out knowingly, the sharpness disrupted by his big smile. He was sitting alone in the room, the largest room available, with a buffet displayed before him. Your eyes widen as you realized who Mr. Park was.

Jimin.

Jimin…was a son of the ambassador? Your mind rattled through memories, although few, that you had spent with him. He had never acted mighty, never flaunted his wealth around you all. How come you never noticed before? It explained so much at the same time, the enigmatic nature especially. Snapping out of your stupor at this moment he was a customer, not Jimin. Softening your eyes into something you had seen the other girls play. “Good evening, Mr. Park.”

He laughed, eyes forming half-moons. When you still didn’t move, he saw the conflict in your eyes. He urged you closer to him with an open hand. “Please, Butterfly, call me Jimin—it’s just me.” With a smirk that revealed his white teeth there was a glint in his eye. “I don’t bite.”

“If that is what you wish.” His eyes roved over you as you strode over to him. The panel of your dress somehow remained perfectly in front of you, but you felt vulnerable with your legs and arms exposed. You shuffled over to him and sat down on a cushion next to him.

He chuckled again, completely amused by you. “You look like a doll dressed like this.”

Jimin was a handsome man, any girl would be lucky to be his suitor. However, he…he wasn’t Jin. You’ve never thought of him as anything more. You felt neutral towards him, this must be how the other Anemona felt. Remembering their words, you automatically put on a face hoping the hollowness was concealed. You giggled covering your mouth with your hand. He smiled lowering your hand from your mouth, “Don’t cover it. You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, he was so close to you, faces nearly touching. Your mind flashes back to when Jin had his face this close to yours two moons ago; how your hand reached for his then, but your hand now remained trained at your side. He wasn’t warm enough.

You sat back, “Would you like me to play you a song Jimin?” His eyes lit up. You entertained, keep conversation, played an instrument, all be it not as well as he was when he took it from you. He blamed it on Yoongi for your lack of ability. It was odd, you felt comfortable but something in the back of your mind was niggling at you. He drank, but very little, when you asked why he confessed, “I want to remember my time with you. I want to remember it all. Does that bother you?”

You suppressed the flush and shook your head. He laughed as he had been all night. Yet, his eyes were sincere and full of adoration. He took your hand and held it gently in his as he looked down at the exposed skin of your forearm with a soft smile grazing his lips. “Did Jin draw that?”

You wanted to pull back realizing that your skin was still stained. You nodded. He grazed the faint butterfly with his finger.

“I always ask for a real one, but he refuses every time. He says I’m too young.”

Jimin huffed, forcing air from his nose to suppress the snort. “But we are the same age and I have one of his tattoos.” Your heart winced at that, it’s true. Another reminder of how Jin saw so little of you, how he didn’t see you the same. Jimin continued seeing your expression have fallen slightly, “A Butterfly shouldn’t be kept in this cage, when her wings are so beautiful.” It’s quiet as he carefully transverses the image. “I want to buy you, Butterfly.”

You tensed up under his delicate touch. He smiled at you dropping your hand to your lap, “Of course, I won’t force you. I never force my women; you must know that. I am man, no feral Guerrian.” He smirked at his own joke, but you sat there stunned, missing the insinuation. The wind had been knocked out of you. This was far from anything you had imagined would happen tonight. He tipped your chin with a crooked finger forcing you to look at him. His eyes were full of adore. “I’m serious, Butterfly. Think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow by noon for an answer.”

He got up and adjusted his clothing, “Thank you for tonight Butterfly, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked out of the room and you sat there dazed. Minutes must’ve passed before you got up but stumbled on your feet. You clutched the table, food nearly untouched as you focused on breathing through your nose. You kicked off the annoying stilted shoes. Never in your life did you think you were going to be bought. You got up, feeling better with your feet touching ground.

You flung open the screen door jostling Anemonas who had been lingered outside the room as you came out. They rushed up to you when they found their ground. “Butterfly! What happened? Why did he leave?”

“You didn’t make him happy did you? No man leaves happy without going upstairs at least once.”

Another asked, “Did you scare him away?”

Cherry pushed through the crowd coming up to you and instantly pulling you into an embrace. She held you tightly as your hands loosely reciprocated. She pulled away but still held you with shaky hands. You had never seen her upset, but you missed the look of concern. Your mind couldn’t focus. “I’m so sorry Butterfly. I tried to convince her to pull you out. She said he requested you. I tried even asking Hos-,” she sealed her lips cutting herself off. Her grip tightened again, “What happened Butterfly?”

You felt like the walls were closing in.

“Butterfly, answer me! Talk to me!”

Over the chaos you answered all their questions. “He wants to buy me.” You couldn’t motivate yourself to have an ounce of happiness in it.

Nameless girl of the hall was the first to speak, “Park Jimin? He wants to buy you? Yeah right.”

Cherry shot her a glare silencing her as the Anemona rolled her eyes. You nodded.

The other girls shrieked in excitement, “Congratulations Butterfly!”

No. No. No! This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

You pushed out of Cherry’s embrace and past the small crowd. Their excitement and happiness died out when they realized you weren’t excited like they were. “Butterfly! Butterfly!” Cherry took a few steps after you before she stopped. She sighed, she knew exactly where you were going, but this time she didn’t have the heart to stop you.

Your feet gained speed as you jogged faster and faster towards an exit. There’s only one place where you know to go.

Your feet were freezing, but you didn’t mind the numbness as you ran across the yard and into another. Oddly you felt unclean, tainted and disloyal as you could still feel Jimin’s light touches on your skin and see his smile behind your eyes. Your feet were gaining traction, but the weight of the material of your dress weighed you down. It felt like you were running through water to get to him. Your hair restricted movement and the makeup made you feel stiff. The tree was faintly glowing, the recently fallen leaves in his yard still barely pulsed. You reached the familiar porch with the warm amber light flickering from inside.

You slid open the door and opened your mouth to speak but immediately clamped it closed. A woman was lounging across his floor completely nude from the waist up with her back to you. Her back was covered in a partial tattoo, art you recognized. She turned over to look at you, chest on full display and her face was just as gorgeous as her salacious body. A smile bloomed further solidifying her beauty. “Wait your turn, sweetheart.”

You blushed and suddenly the sliding door slammed closed nearly clipping your nose. Jin pressed in behind you hand still on the frame sealing the door shut. “Get out!” He was seething. “Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my house.”

You recoiled back at his tone and words. He had never yelled at you before. You turned around slowly. Her body clearly still in your mind as you came face to face with his chest. His robe was loose as he wasn’t wearing an undershirt, splatters of dry ink was on his collarbones. You swallowed as you looked off to the side.

His eyes widened as far as they could stretch. He hadn’t realized it was you on his porch, he thought it was someone trying to sneak inside. It wouldn’t be the first time an Anemona from the Inn had tried to. “Butterfly?”

You hadn’t heard him call your name too engrossed in your thoughts. Gorgeous was the only word that came to mind and the tattoo that was on her back was eerily familiar. You couldn’t help to compare. She was a woman to him. Your lower lip began to tremble as tears were beginning to build in the corner of your eyes. You dipped your head. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Your voice wasn’t as stable as you spoke. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

He heavily sighed removing his hand, but still standing close to you. “You know not go in when I have clients.”

When you hadn’t responded he called your name again, but you refused to look up. He knew something was off, he curled his finger and placed it under your chin. You slowly raised your head, eyes still downturned. He stepped closer nearly whispering your name full of concern. “Butterfly, look at me.” Taking a second you finally raised your eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to look away until the hair pin poking from your hair caught his eye. A small golden butterfly was dangling amongst other jewels. A small smile was tickling at his lip before his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes traveled down to the dress you wore, your figure was on full display teasingly by the tight fabric. Your bare legs exposed; the slits dangerously high that almost your entire hip was out. It had him feeling some type of way as he felt his eyes warm as he devoured your being. Why? Why were you dressed up like this, like an Aneomona? A snarl in throat was barely audible at the thought of someone else besides him seeing you like this. Had someone? The threatening sound blooms as his mouth opened to ask when a breathy voice inside called him. “Jin, Darling?”

The tears you’ve been holding back were threatening to break again. Of course, of course he had someone else. Held someone else. His words that he had always told you ring in your ears, those girls, as well as Jimin’s recent ones. The veil was pulled as you saw the landscape clearly. You were a child to him. He had never looked at you otherwise. You were mistaken all those times. It was only you who had been feeling this way towards him. You had been trying to hide how much it hurt you, but this was undeniable.

You bowed your head, not daring to look up as a tear slipped down. It stung, but you couldn’t bear to wipe it. “I’m sorry.” You raced past him your long dress caught under your feet as you stumbled and caught yourself on the tree. The fallen leaves pulsed brightly as you disturbed them before they looked like falling stars settling back down. Heaving you collected the skirt of your dress and disappearing into the shadow and the dark night as you ran off.

He jogged forward, bewildered as he stood at the edge of the porch as you disappeared. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Ji~~n.”

Heaving a sigh, he hesitated, something pulling within him to go after you. He turned around grumbling under his breath in a different tongue. He opened the door and closed it behind him with a bit of force. The lantern hanging on the porch swayed on the closing of the door until the wax tipped and the light went out.

Nauseum swirled in your empty stomach, but you couldn’t bear to eat. Jimin would be coming soon. Your mind was foggy yet chaotic with many incomplete thoughts. You felt torn mind and heart; your stupid heart wanted to see him while your mind told you not to. However, you weren’t one to listen to the latter. Standing up on sore feet you make your way through the halls, girls you passed in hall looked at you with envy. You didn’t pay them any mind as you let your feet carry you with the muscle memory. Your feet crunched in the grass as you walked. You paused, the ground under your feet cold, you swallowing thickly, what if she was still there? Would she still be there? You had never seen someone come out of his room before last night. Your stomach churned with all the maddening thoughts. You swallowed it again though. That was none of your business. You were going to respect it, even if you didn’t like it. He was still Jin.

As you entered Jin’s yard your eyes widen, the porch door was already open. Your eyebrows furrowed; he was never up this early. It was always your job to wake him up. You paced slowly with your hands folded in front of you as you peered inside. Jin was sitting at his table already sketching with a steam cup of tea. You crept closer and sat on the edge of his porch. You knew he knew you were there, but he said nothing to acknowledge it. She wasn’t there.

It changed nothing though.

Sitting alone with yourself last night you realized a lot of things. You were twenty-three and if you ever wanted anything for yourself you couldn’t depend on Jin for the rest of your life. You couldn’t watch him be with someone else. You couldn’t watch him smile at someone else. You couldn’t watch him…love someone that wasn’t you.

The Mistress was right and this is how you’ll pay her back.

You were going to leave your childish self behind, even if that meant leaving him behind.

You crawled up closer and sat against the door frame taking a deep breath, holding the feeling before it slipped away. You couldn’t be sad. You didn’t want tears to be the last thing he remembered you by. One last time you asked. “Will you give me a tattoo Jin?”

Without looking up from his paper, “No.”

You smiled, a genuine laugh bubbled and lasted until your stomach began to hurt. In a way that was an answer you wanted. Maybe you didn’t want a tattoo to remember him by, but those words that he’s always told you. Not treating you any differently.

He finally looked at you with an odd expression of concern. Why were you laughing? None the less it made him smile.

Catching your breath, you turned away from him and gazed out at the yard, the morning light flooding and the dew sparkle on the grass in the garden was quite beautiful. Rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves of his tree creating a beautiful distortion on the grass.

He bathed his brush in the ink as he stared at you. You were too quiet. You had been off since last night. It sets his spine straight as he remembers what you looked like last night. The way you looked had replayed in his mind all night as he worked on that woman’s tattoo, even after he kicked her out. “Butterfly?”

Your eyes had become glassy without realizing it and you wiped at the tears that were forming. You smiled wide, “Ah. Sorry, just remembered something.” You recounted, “Remember when we first met and how I broke your fence? And somehow you let me still come around even after that?”

Placating his earlier feeling he chuckled recalling the memory. The image of your once smaller being coming into mind. He stared at you for a moment, then taking a sip of his tea. You were still you. That thought made his smile widen. Nothing had changed since then, that was still the routine.

Feeling brave you looked over your shoulder enticed by sound of his laugh like a butterfly attracted to a beautiful flower. You took in that moment where everything feels like it was going in slow motion and you could count the lashes on each of his eyes. He was ethereal, almost too good for this planet, as he is. His features handsome, golden in the morning light.

You turned away from him. “Jin, I—someone bought me.” The confession spilled from your mouth like vomit.

His brush stilled on the page, ink pooling as the paper soaked it up willingly as he stiffened. You looked over your shoulder, quietly waiting for him to say something. You both held each other gaze. His eyes narrowed before he began painting again. In a tone too casual, “Don’t joke around Butterfly.”

“I’m not. I’m leaving today.” You didn’t know how to handle it from here, truly not even having expected yourself to have the gull to come over.

“Butterfly,” Jimin was making his way over towards you crossing the yard. He was dressed smartly in clothing you had only seen worn by wealthy humans. He was showing his true colors now that you knew. Jin furrowed his brows at the appearance of one of his best friends. Normally he would be glad to see him, but something felt off at his appearance. He had no appointments. Jimin was all smile as he came to stop in front of you. His eyes near sparkled as he greeted you. “Good morning, Butterfly.” He then turned towards Jin who was just watching. “Morning Jin, you’re up early.”

Jin nearly tossed the brush at him, even making the gesture. Jimin flinched out of reflex before Jin put down his brush. Seeing Jimin wasn’t just stopping by he stood up and walked until he stood at the edge of his porch right next to you. “What are you doing here Jimin?”

Jimin’s smile bloomed further crinkling at the corners. “I’m here to hear Butterfly’s answer.”

His eyes narrowed at Jimin. Your heart was pounding hard in your chest. Jin questioned, a low undertone of a growl in his voice. “Answer?”

Jimin stepped closer to you, his polished shoes crunching under the grass as he shifted on his feet. He grabbed your hand gently. “What is your answer Butterfly?”

You paused purposefully waited for something, an objection, a scoff, a laugh, anything. It was silent. It was silent except for the thoughts within your head screaming for something yet, the silence from him was louder than any scream, any thought you had. You resisted looking at Jin. You already had your answer. You decided this. You wanted this. You wanted had to do this. You wanted—this. “Yes.”

Jimin pressed a quick kiss to your hand, his plush lips soft. Your face and body heated up to a near sizzle. That was something you had never expected.

Jin’s visage was rumbling beneath barely containing control at the simple gesture from Jimin. He looked up to Jin before meeting your eyes. “We should be on our way Butterfly.”

“Let’s go home Butterfly.” Nodding you took his hand and slipped off the porch.

You paused, “Goodbye Jin.”

He said nothing staring at you as you realized he wasn’t going to say anything. You turned expressionless, matching his. You let go of Jimin’s hand going back towards the Inn.

Jimin and Jin stared at one another, a certain tension in the air. Jimin’s face suddenly softened as his smile returned as he bowed to his friend before he followed in your direction.

Jin watched as the wind blew by messing up his hair, wisp of his bangs covering his eyes that had turned red. His hands clasped behind his back speckled like they were stained with dry ink.

The steam from his cup was flowing freely from the cooling tea. He found himself glancing up at the clock on the wall. His fingers rhythmically drummed on the table. He looked up to the clock again and found the small hand had only moved a minute. He had even left the screen door open. He had finished all his clients for a day. His wrist was sore with how many clients he had been taking on. He debated if he should cancel all his clients for the following day.

He checked the clock again and realized yet only another half a minute had passed. He heaved a sigh.

What was keeping you? Where you busy? Had they finally scolded you for the last time? He knows that you found a new route as you recounted your story of it in full detail. His customer had to hear the story that day too, but somehow, they were engrossed in your story. He laughed brushing the hair out of his face. He pulled at the strands, when had his hair gotten so long? You would trim it for him. Maybe he would ask you to trim it for him ton—.

It hit him hard when the sound of the clock ticking drummed in his ears, the memory hitting him.

You were gone.

You had been gone for weeks.

He sighed heavily as he stood up and went to the kitchen grabbing liquor. On his way back he opened the porch door, his body running too hot even for his comfort. He gripped onto the doorframe as he stared at the tree in his yard. It no longer glowed, it had been fading and fading until tonight, it no longer glowed. It was spring it was supposed to be thriving. He placed his hand over his chest and rubbed it in a circle, eyes turning amber. He sat down opening the bottle as he set up his ink block and opened his sketchbook to a new page. He took big gulps of the fermented amber liquid as the rucke flavor covered his tongue.

He had seen you at the marketplace. He had seen you with Jimin as you were perusing the shops. He found himself watching disregarding the shop owner trying to bargain with him. You had nodded along to something Jimin had said. You chuckled as Jimin raised a hideous dress to you then holding it up to him with a brow raised. He had never seen his friend so friendly with a woman. Jimin normally never was seen out with a woman, especially during daylight. The distance between you two was too close for comfort. Speaking of clothes, you were wearing a new dress, not the normal blue canvas one you always wore. Your hair was shinny and were well taken care of, rather than your normal tied up and messy, carefree taming. You were almost unrecognizable, like that night you came to him when he was working. By your gait he knew it was you. He could pick you out of a crowd of a thousand if given. It was almost intrinsic, you.

He took another gulp of the beer, feeling looser as the liquid cooled his being. His eyes grew similar in color to the liquor as it filled him. He dipped the brush in the ink letting the black ink drip into the block. The way Jimin placed a hand at the small of your back and leaning into you played over in his mind. Swirling his eyes grew darker taking on a red hue before it morphed into hot iron.

Violent strokes scrapped across the page as the hair of the brush made a resounding slap as it hit the scroll canvas. His hand working sloppier as his hand got in the ink of the canvas blending in with his changing hand. Stroking forward, gliding it around as if on autopilot he created. He hooked the brush on the stand as he blinked blearily at the sketch. The alcohol already running heavily through his system. Exhaustion took over him as the buzz was shutting him down. He slumped over hand holding the paper as he sleep overcome him. His lips smacked.

He had painted a butterfly.

You stared at the starless sky having spent the evening watching the sky turn from your windowsill daybed. The three moons had all shifted into the east sky nearly overlapping one another You felt restless. You weren’t allowed to do much, if anything. Jimin insisted he had servants to do things. He was confusing, had he not bought you to do the same? You were having a hard time adapting to his way of life and expectations. His life was completely different from what went on in Borgo. Tall, pristine white buildings with black tiles filled every street in the heart of Anisum. The roads were paved with stones versus the dirt you were used to. People used their given names. You hadn’t realized Anisa, the whole world was…so large. The heart was different as people were more standoffish and selfish, but the same could often be said of Borgo. But there you knew people, there was a sense of community even though everyone was different. Even those who came in from neighboring planets held this air of stature. It was the first time you had seen others from different planets as they government didn’t allow them into Borgo. You saw starship stations, things you had only heard rumors of existing. Of course you had seen them in the sky, but they were so much larger in person and up close. Beings of all skin color, stature and shape filled Anisum.

There was so much, but it felt hollow. This wasn’t home.

There was an ache that comes and goes, always returning in quiet moments.

Knocks sounded at your door and you sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Jimin entered and shut the door behind him with a winning smile on his lips. You matched it in greeting. He strides over to where you were, hands clasped behind his back, a habit he had when he was in front of other officials, but this felt mischievous.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

He sat next to you gazing out the window. “The moons are beautiful tonight, what’s not to be happy about?”

Quietly you nodded. You enjoyed Jimin, he had been nothing but hospitable. He was sweet to say the least. You found out you had a lot in common with him and found yourself build a friendship. Yet, you didn’t feel…

“Are you happy Butterfly?”

Your cheeks heated and you tried swallowing the truth. He had been watching you this entire time you were lost in your thoughts. “Yes, I’m quite happy here.”

He laughed, face contouring comically. That was something you appreciated was he never put up the same pretense around you he had with others here. “Butterfly. I can see your unhappy.”

Waving your hands, “No! No really I’m—!”

“Butterfly, Butterfly, calm down! It’s okay, it’s okay!”

You hung your head in shame. You couldn’t look at him. You felt guilty admitting it even to yourself. You should be happy. You have everything now. All…you…ever…wanted.

Jimin leaned forward elbows resting on his knees. “I want to do something for you. Will you let me?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. You weren’t one to deny him feeling burdened by his kindness. You didn’t like the way the feeling from earlier intensified, he was up to something. “Okay.”

He smirked up at you with a sly smile. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

His chest was rising and falling slowly as he draped his arm across his face. He wanted to pull up his comforter but in his drunken stupor he had only managed to lay his futon down last night. He had slept with the porch door open his body was feeling overwhelmed by an odd fever. His body was tingling with restlessness setting his joints steely. It had made him snappy and alcohol had been a hasty solution to the agitation in his veins. The slight hangover was still drumming in his head and the unsettling feeling in his bones returned. He let out a heavy sigh.

A shadow casted over him and a laugh tickled like a clear bell in his ears. His arm that was draping over his eyes fell away. He let your voice soak in, your words, the way your eyes meet his and didn't turn away. You were smiling down at him, a halo of light behind you. “Jin, it’s noon.”

He kept staring at you. He blinked closing his eyes for a few moments before he opened them again. You pinched his cheek and his face scrunched. “Did you drink too much again? I warned you not to drink so much.”

“What are you doing here?” Were the first words out of his mouth.

You pouted your lips then it fell into a smile in your signature tease. “I want a tattoo.”

“No.” He grunted, rolling over.

You quirked a brow eager for the challenge. “Today, I’m a paying customer.”

“No.”

You hummed nonchalantly, unaffected. “The ones you drew for me never lasted; I want this one to last.”

He sat up on his side and pushed off walking towards the kitchen. You grabbed his hand before he could get out of reach. “Jin. I want this.” You tugged, Please.”

He pulled his hand out of your grasp. “No! No matter how much money you give me I won’t. You…you, you’re a –.”

You finished for him, “Child?” Instantly you felt defensive.

He had the semblance to look embarrassed. “Yes...a child.”

You had been doing a lot of thinking in the past few weeks; amplified last night since Jimin implanted this idea in you of what you’d say to Jin when you first saw him, but this had been something you had been holding in, wanting, for a long time. A breeze blew by shivering the leaves of the tree in his yard and it carried hints of Jin’s scent. Floral but inky, yet the accompanying scent of alcohol was distasteful. You scoffed, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “Over and over again you’ve called me a child and told me not to get involved! But you know better than anyone else that I was never allowed to act like a child.” Ironically you were feeling flushed as he kept eye contact. “So, don’t get involved, treat me like everyone else —a customer. I’m not the Butterfly of the Inn anymore.”

Your chest was heaving slight as you released all your suppressed emotions. He sat there for a moment before he got up. His blue robe billowing about him as he walked away. The silence always hurt more. A pang of hurt filled your chest. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be when you saw him again. You wanted to him to see you differently. See that you had done things on your own. You sat there, hand hanging in the air. Footsteps returned back lightly thumping on the floor into the room as he stood in the threshold of his kitchen with his jars. Your brows furrowed then it struck you why he was there.

“What do you want?”

You smiled eyes lighting up. Your stomach was doing somersault in excitement. “You know what I want.”

He nodded setting down his supplies and sorting them out. “Where? On your arm like always?”

You shook your head taking in a deep breath. “On my back.”

His face was neutral, but his ears were a burning red. He cleared his throat. He took a moment before he nodded. Your fist clenched on your lap in excitement, it was finally happening.

Your heart was beat so fast. Your pride suddenly was asking to be swallowed. You had never been nude in front of others despite seeing nudity your whole life. Especially in front of Jin. You hadn’t really thought of the real implications of what getting a tattoo on your back entailed. Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“Did you changing your mind?”

You bristled at his question. You weren’t going to change your mind! Taking a deep breath and in a single motion you pulled your robe down and let it pool at your hips, while still clutching your hands over your bare chest with your sleeves. You decided to forgo an undershirt today wearing a thicker robe coat to compensate, but you wore a skirt as the robe wasn’t long enough to be a dress.

His jaw clenched as he tried to not clear his throat at the sight of your bare skin. He closed his eyes for a moment allowing the color to diffuse.

“Lay down.”

You carefully maneuvered and you laid down on the futon. It was quite eye opening how vulnerable and nervous you were feeling. When you settled, he only then moved. You flinched at the unexpected feeling of his large warm hands on your bare back. You both lacked to comment on your reaction. With his index he started at the top of your next and with his thumb of the same hand marking the end point, he inched his fingers counting how many he stretched. It was a simple touch, but it had your shoulders moved closer together as his index and thumb met at the small of your back. “Relax Butterfly.”

You nodded resting your face on your forearm.

The ritual began as you heard him open up the ceramic jars. The scarping of his wooden wire whisk as he mixed the ink fast then slow lifting at the end as he checked the consistency of the ink as it dripped off. The sound of fabric crumpling as he rolled up his white sleeve of his undershirt forgoing his blue robe. The first prick had you hissing through your teeth. You finally understood his customers wholeheartedly. He chided you, “Stay still.” A sound akin between a whine and aggrievance answered him, surprisingly putting a small smile on his face at your reaction. Your hand clenched and fisted the futon underneath you. He found it oddly endearing. Eventually you fell into his rhythmic pricking and the pain dulled out and was tolerable. He was gentle with feather light touches and pricks. Hours passed as he quietly painted you.

His needle was set on the table closing the session. “Done.”

You felt immensely sore, but immensely content at the same time. Carefully sitting up you carefully held your robe over your front as you looked over your shoulder. He was already staring at the four butterflies that flew up towards your neck starting at your lower back in varying sizes. You realized that was the first time you were truly seeing him. No pretenses as you looked at one another. He looked different. His tan skin somehow darker although you were sure he sat inside all day. His eyes having this shade under them that wasn’t there before. He looked ill. While he was tattooing, he must’ve dropped ink on himself, his hands were stained heavily, fingers nearly completely stained black. He was normally a clean worker, never or rarely staining himself. His eyes looked different, almost as if they had a golden hue like the setting sun. He stared at you, but they remained there with noticeable difficulty. Before you could inquire on his wellbeing his gaze tore away from your spine as he moved to close the jars piling them on the tray. His voice was strangely thick, “Clean it well.”

You twisted around facing him fully. “I’ve missed this.” You scooched closer to him stopping just short of brushing your knees to his. “I’ve missed you.”

Proximity was vital to him now as the fever within him returned. A cramp settling in his stomach at the dulcet tone of your plea. “Butterfly—.” His voice had depended as pleaded with you. The fact that he didn’t pull away made you believe in your favor. You ignored distance, holding the front of your robe together with one hand as you reached forward, hand instinctually wanting to cup his cheek. It felt like you were imagining things as you thought Jin was leaning towards you as well. Your fingertips grazed his cheek and the feeling washing over him in local pleasure but his stomach swirled stronger in contrast.

The spell was broken as knocks sounded at the front door before followed by echoes of it sliding open. Jin’s whine were concealed. “Butterfly! Are you done?” Jimin’s voice echoed down the hall.

The feeling disappeared from the air as Jin turned away from you. You didn’t answer Jimin as you stared at Jin who collected his stuff. He got up and the air had dramatically cooled around you as he began walking away towards his storeroom. You pulled your robe back up feeling vulnerable again. His blue robe crumpled on the floor reflected the light beginning to illuminate softly from the leaves of his tree outside. Your words had him pausing. “I have no more excuses to see you anymore. I can’t pretend I miss the Inn. I can’t make detours to this street from the main market without it being more obvious. Or say I want to see Cherry without glancing over and hoping your door is open.”

The tree outside shivered as the wind passed by.

Night was coming soon.

His footsteps continued.

Tears fell from your eyes, but as quickly as they fell, they dried. You tied the knot of your robe tight around your waist. You pulled out the satchel of coins and dropped it on the cleared table not caring to count or ask how much. Slowly getting up on sore legs as you walked towards the front door. Familiar pain can still made you nauseous. As you turned down the corner of the hall Jimin was waiting for you at the front door, hand extended out to you.

Eyes rimmed red and with the saddest smile you walked towards him with your own hand extended.

He sees it all, especially the way you don’t pull away or recoil this time when he holds your hand. There’s no reluctance or hesitation and somehow it makes his hold much looser this time after he can see the dullness behind your eyes. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He had thought this would be the answer. “Are you happy now Butterfly.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jin appeared at the door silently, you hadn’t noticed but Jimin had. Jimin glared at Jin upset at the outcome. He couldn’t believe he was standing there after so calmly when you were clearly upset. Why was his friend so stupid and blind. Jimin neutralized his expression and it turned coy. It was his last coup before he gave up trying. Jimin stepped closer to you, near face to face as he leaned in to whisper loudly into your ear. Daringly he placed a hand on your hip as he pulled you closer to him. “Will you let me see it later Beautiful?”

You nodded not hearing his request despite his proximity and touch. Your mind was elsewhere.

Eyes glinting, his hand was still on your hip. “Let’s go home Butterfly.”

Your feet felt planted as if they had been molded, but uprooted as Jimin gently pulled you alongside him going towards the tall gate. You took a breath then a step towards. Your head swam with regrets, why couldn’t it all turn back to how it was. Maybe you still were a child yearning for him even after such clarity. The ink in your skin didn’t make you a woman. You were still you and he still didn’t want you. They say once bitten, twice shy, but I think for it's more like forever shy. Tears built in the corner of your eyes again, you felt stupid.

You reached the gate Jimin pushing it open until you were jolted by a sudden tug and onset heat. Jin twisted you around pulling you out of Jimin’s touch vicariously pushing Jimin away. You were face to face, a breathtaking sight as his figure towered over you. His eyes were fiery red, pulsing, replacing his black irises. His face feral with something wild you had never seen his gentle feature morph into. He seethed, “Don’t.”

The subtle smirk that Jimin had sent you had been the last straw. He had been holding back, composing himself for so long. He allowed Jimin to mess around, even buy you from the Inn, telling himself you were better off—safer that way. The last thread holding his senses together snapped as unadulterated anger filled him. The tattoo he had just given you was so intimate—his—and it was only his to see. You…you were only his, and all of you was for his eyes only.

You stared wide eye at him. “Jin…your eyes.”

You saw his face shift into horror as he realized he had let himself slip. He dropped your hand like he had been burnt. He brought a shaky hand up to his face as he began to stumble backwards rapidly. His eyes flicked to yours petrified. You blubbered, “Seokjin, you—.” He turned on his heel and ran back into his home, stumbling before he disappearing down the dark hall.

Your mind raced completely bewildered by the situation, yet as a sense of familiarity settled in. Those eyes. Flashes of those eyes. You had seen them in him before, but you had brushed it off as a reflection of light, the sunset, anything but…what you think it is. Those eyes belong to only one thing, the same ones that were outside your childhood home, the ones in your nightmares. You had thought it was just that though, a figment of your childish imagination, anything but real. But they’re just human like…weren’t they?

Jimin got up from the ground and jogged over to you. A heavy sense of guilt in his stomach, Gods, this wasn’t how it wasn’t supposed to turn out. “Butterfly.” He shook your shoulders when you didn’t answer him. You blinked and looked at him.

Jimin looked at the house then back to you, “Listen Butterfly. I’m sorry Butterfly I-I—I.” You scrunched your brows, did Jimin know? What was going on. “I just didn’t expect it to happen like this.” He pointed towards the house. Frustrated he grunted and he ran his hand through his hair, really, he didn’t expect this nudging to come this far.

Yoongi’s cup of rucke was sitting just out of reach next to him as his fingers pressed the keys of his lap piano. Jungkook and Taehyung had taken it upon themselves to freestyle a song with slurred lyrics that weren’t lingual. Alcohol being the influence had all seven of them giddy, giddy too after seeing eachother after a while. After the meeting they brushed away all the blueprints. They had gathered around the floor table that was filled with empty and partially filled bottles, glasses, and plates Jin had prepared. Jin only hosted gatherings because of his ability to cook and the other naturally decided on their own his home was the epicenter of their gatherings. Taehyung had brought new ink for Jin in his recent travels in the system. Namjoon had brought political gossip what was going on in the higher courts. Jin, along with everyone joked upon a cheer cutting Joon’s monologue short about the shortcomings of the government. He thought they had closed the meeting already. Jin held up his cup, “To the next King, Namjoon!” Simultaneously despite the others partially listening cheered along.

Namjoon blushed mouth gaping like a fish. “Guys-alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll stop! But don’t come complaining to me when you can’t fuckin’ keep up next meeting!” The man absolutely blushed nearly dropping his ceramic cup of alcohol from snorting and dismissing the cheer. Even Hoseok, who was calmly laying on the floor as the first few sips had already rendered him chill, suddenly sat up and clanged his glass along with everyone else. The cheer didn’t diminish just to taunt him. It enticed them to sip more. It had always been chaotic when all of them gathered.

The porch door was propped open letting in the breeze and aerate the room full of men alike. Over the music of Yoongi was playing there was a light under hum of music coming from the Inn. When the room quieted Jin smiled at the siren like call. His ears were red, skin had been crawling with patches of ink and from his chest a light glow emitted shining through his shirt, robe long ago discarded and Jungkook was wearing it. He had been partially shifting all night. “Butter~~fly”

Jimin rolled over, hearing the murmuring coming from Jin. As he listened closer, he could hear the name Jin was mumbling. The urge to tease overwhelming him as he propped on table next to him. Jin rarely drank, only when they came over, usually too busy to bother with it and the effects.

“Jin, where’s butterfly? Why isn’t she here?”

Jin blinked slowly as he huffed out an answer, “Cherry probably.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up at the mentioning of the name before he slumped back down onto the floor.

Scooching closer to Jin, he unnecessarily whispered. “Hey, hey Jin!”

“Hmmm?” Jin’s eyes had closed, his brain signaling slowing down as the alcohol flowed through his system.

“Did you tell her yet?”

A shout of howls around the room picked up as a betting game had picked up. The arguments of who and what were the rules always took up the most of the time before the game even started.

He hummed scrunching his face not hearing Jimin clearly. “What?”

Jimin spoke loudly, “Did you tell her about you—you know?”

Jin’s head shot up, eyes fiercely glared at Jimin, pupils turning ember and suddenly sober. “No!”

Jimin pouted, clearly tipsy as well, and senses not picking up on the change in Jin. He scoffed, annoyed. He had been watching Jin for the longest time. He had known him since they were young. It was painful watching the two of you run circles around one another. You were painfully obvious, but painfully oblivious to the obvious. Jimin was naturally whiny when he was sober, but alcohol tended to intensify it. “Why won’t you tell her, she’s going to find out soon enough?”

“No!” His fingers gripping hard and scratched the surface of the table. Anger bursted like a flame, but his focus was still fuzzy, as he racked his brain for the right response. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh come on Jin.” Like a candle sparked Jimin got up using the table as a stabilizer.

He stumbling towards the porch, passing the others who were slapping down cards and calling out counts. Yoongi was still playing his piano, although the beat had slowed down significantly. The others payed him no mind. Jin kept his eyes on him. A coy smirk pulled at Jimin’s lips, a single brow arched in taunt. “If you won’t tell her because your too pussy to do it. I’ll do it. It’s easy. Watch.”

Jimin had pulled open the porch, “Butterfly, I hope you hear this, Jin’s a—.”

Jin was up within seconds as he dashed forward and spun Jimin around pinning him to the wall. The force was hard enough that the wall shook. Jin’s pupils were dilated and irises completely red. A black veined hand was wrapped around Jimin’s throat. “Don’t. You. Dare!” He seethed the command through his teeth.

The room had grown silent all of them staring before instantly sobering. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jungkook stood up, black veins and red eyes emerging in all three. All three gathered the strength to pull Jin off Jimin. Although Jimin never lost his smile through the ordeal, laughing. He had dangled the bait and Jin caught it willingly. Jungkook was the strongest of the group, but Jin’s strength rivaled his often. The other two supported by maneuvering them off Jimin safely. Barking but not biting immediately the alcohol his Jin’s system hard as he slumped into Jungkook’s arms mumbling like a child. Taehyung held onto Jimin as Namjoon ordered Jungkook to lay Jin down, “He’s had enough.”

Taehyung supported Jimin as he brought him back to the table checking on him. Jimin waved everyone off, he was fine, Jin would never actually hurt him. Jostle yes, but never hurt. Hoseok checked him over before rubbing a knuckle to his head, “Ai-gu, you know better than to tease him about Butterfly when he’s drunk.”

Jimin giggled drunkenly as he brought his liquor up to his lips. “Are you guys tired of it too?”

He looked around and all of them had the same hesitant expression. “I don’t like secrets.”

Yoongi grumbled as his playing picked up again. The tip of his fingers dark too, but they began receding into his usual pale skin color. “Children in men’s bodies, all of you.”

The lot of them laughed.

Jimin’s eyes shifted over to Jin who had been haphazardly laid on his mattress already fast asleep. An idea popped in his mind, the fun wasn’t over.

Jimin held up his shot glass, “Cheers!”

Glasses clanked, “Cheers.”

Your mind was racing, all the denial, all the fears came to life. ”J-Jimin?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Butterfly.” Jimin was uncharacteristically unkept and bent out of shape as he raced to explain.

The stake felt like it had dug deeper in your chest hearing that. Fourteen years…fourteen years and you never noticed he…wasn’t quite human? Guerra were human though, right? The eyes made you believe different. The images you had seen in your youth made you feel that you had just seen the surface. You had never imagined that he was…one of them. How….how had…you not known?

Who was Jin really? What…what was he?

Jimin had expected Jin to stop him the day he bought you, but Jin did nothing, as usual complacent when it came to you. He didn’t mean for it to come to this confession, just—a confession. He ran his hand through his hair a few more times before running his tongue over his lips. He held your shoulders, pleading with you, “Butterfly, I’ve made a mistake that I shouldn’t have. I just…I just didn’t want to see you in that Inn anymore either. You belong here. Here with him. Not with me, not at the Inn, here you belong here. I could see it, always have, the look you both give eachother. He’s scared right now, more than you are and he needs you. You’ve always wanted answers, now it’s here in front of you.”

He spun you around until you were facing home. Jimin pushed you forward again. “Go.”

You regained traction before you face planted and with a step forward you walked back towards home. With a hand on the doorframe you glanced back and Jimin nodded assuring you. You were trembling you didn’t know what to expect. A loud inhuman groan that sounded like a growl echoed from within. You turned around ready to run but Jimin stopped you turning you back, “Don’t be afraid! He won’t hurt you. He’ll never hurt you.” Holding onto that you took it to heart. Jin had never hurt you. You took a shaky step forward before you found your feet walking you inside. For Jin, you could do this for Jin.

The atmosphere felt different as you carefully walked forward hands trembling. You had seen that color in his eyes before but ignored it. The time Jin had pulled you down with him coming to mind as you saw specks of gold and red in his eyes. Maybe you did on purpose, the truth was heavy. The dark wooden floor echoed the sound of your footsteps in the near empty hall, the tall white walls felt endless. Deep shadows had settled in, but you knew exactly where to go. Standing at the sliding door of the main living room you could hear the sounds rumbling from within. Your hand reached for the ajar door. You needed answers, you wanted answers despite your churning stomach. You pushed open the rest of his main room door and stepped inside. He was heaving in the far corner of his room, nearly engulfed in the shadows.

“J-Jin?”

An unsettling growl erupted from his throat. “GET OUT!”

You swallowed the fear that coursed through you at the unfamiliar hostility, physically refraining from stepping back like you had wanted to. This was still Jin. He was still Jin. You weren’t going to run away now. You closed the door behind you. “Jin, please.”

He growled louder turning slightly exposing his face that was still partially obscured by the shadows. He began turning and exposing himself slowly from the shadows. His white shirt was soaked through in sweat despite the temperature dropping rapidly as he turned around. Black strands of hair were stuck to his exposed forehead as his head was tilted back exposing his neck, lips parted as he heaved. His eyes were feral, red and fully dilated, as his brows knitted, and you could assume from frustration. He didn’t want you to see him this way as it was difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

“Are you alright?” You struggled to keep your voice stable

“You need to go now!” He commanded. The room because of him felt smaller than you remember, despite being in here not long ago. It was as if his being was an extension of the shadows as it crept the whole width of the room. His jaw clenched trembling with restraint.

“No, I’m not leaving.” You stated with confidence you weren’t sure. “I can’t, I can’t keep turning away and taking no for an answer.” You swallowed the words almost stuck in your throat. “Who are you? Why…why didn’t you tell me? Is this…is this why you kept pushing me away?” Tears began pricking at the corner of your eye.

The coal in his eyes returned with a sense of vulnerability accompanied by a ring of gold before it dissolved. He was silent, but you weren’t going to allowed it. You were tired, tired of rejection and being left in the dark. You tried reaching for him, “Please, Jin.”

“STAY BACK! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” He tossed his head back with a vicious snarl. Moment by moment he began to look wilder and more deranged as he shivered backing further into the corner. “Leave!”

“Jin your scaring me.” You retracted your hand back holding it to chest as if it would protect yourself. Jimin said he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew Jin wouldn’t hurt you.

He heaved strenuous breathes, imploring you, “You should leave.”

He appeared to be in a lot of pain and it was concerning. Reason caught up to you. Should you get Jimin? Jimin would know what to do. But you didn’t want to leave, what if he collapsed. “No. Let me get Jimin, he can help.”

At that he faltered, and he let out a high-pitched whine. “NO! Don’t go near him!” He couldn’t control it anymore. It was taking over. He had been resisting it for so long, trying to hide this part of himself from the world—from you. But you-- were the trigger. His knees caved and buckled until he collapsed knees spread hands in front of him for support. “I can’t—I can’t control it any—!” He let out another high pitch whine that turned into another vicious snarl. His nails scratched at the floor scrapping and causing curls of wood to coil in its trail. He sat up with flinging his head back as his spine arched. His bones began cracking and snapping as they reformed and elongate. You watched in horror as his skin shifted and his physique grew and filled out. His shirt tore as his already wide shoulders and chest expanded; pieces were hanging by the thread. His pants ripped at the outer and inner seams but remained on in his kneeling position. The sound of cracking and snapping had stopped; his already tall height had increased by at least another foot. His muscles grew and shoulders were impossibly wider to accommodate for his shifting into a giant.

Moonlight illuminated his kneeling figure that poured in from the frosted panes as night finally settled in. His name sat on the tip of your tongue just when you thought it was over. Instantly his tan skin then erupted in dark spots like ink soaking into a canvas. This part seemed to not be painful as he made no sound of protest. It began at his fingertips until it simultaneously became one and replaced his skin color with a color akin to charcoal migrating up his hand and forearm; it paused at his elbow and through the tears and holes in his shirt you could see the dark color began to branch off like veins over his upper arm as it trailed up. It looked like armor but engrained in his flesh as it settled.

Hidden under his sleeves it reappeared, creeping up his neck like veins. The pigment crept up his neck and over his jaw and marked half his face in an uneven crawl of black pigmented veins. At the same time his chest glistened as his torn shirt billowed around him as the veins began to trail on his chest towards his heart. Over his heart under his skin a circular patch began to glow white hot as Jin let out a guttural groan. It morphed and looked like molten fire was underneath and the shadow veins began encasing around it connected the fire to the rest of his body. It pulsed alongside his heartbeat.

Jin’s jaw suddenly unhinged open in a silent scream. From the pulsing core in a single hard pulse the fire like molt spread the molten glow replacing main shadow veins that were adjacent to major veins. Large strips over his arms were filled until it ended at the tip of his middle finger on both arms. A similar fire vein began creeping up his neck next to his jugular, over his jaw and up over his eye until it stopped at his hairline. It appeared like a molten scar down his face.

He had fought off the shift so long, only allowing small episodes, but he hadn’t shifted fully in years. It was overcoming him in such a powerful wave he had never experienced before. His sweaty black hair hung in tendrils front of his eyes as he heaved. The shift was complete.

This…this was your answer. This…was what a Guerra truly is. This was Jin.

This whole time you thought you had imagined that, a child’s rendition of a Guerra, a monster. You had thought they were only human like, but in all truth you were unaware of what made them different. This being hiding under a sheep’s skin. It was simply an apartheid to you. A giant shadow with glowing red eyes. The fire, the heat, it all made sense. You had seen them before and it wasn’t your imagination. Jin was…the word slipped from your lips. “Guerra.”

His head lifted eerily slow until his eyes met yours. When he opened his eyes blearily one was glowing red and the other, the shadowed was gold like the vein.

“Are you afraid?” In a strained voice he asked. “Want to run now? Now that you see the monster that I am.”

You shook your head side to side hands clenched at your chest. In all truth you weren’t afraid, not like you were earlier. The imagination and unknown were more terrifying than the truth. You knew the history, what they had done to your family, but that…that wasn’t Jin. He was still Jin. “No.”

Parroting you, “No?”

You slowly walked towards him despite the soft growls he emitted with each breath. In this form his senses were heightened and he could hear your heart beating hard in your chest. His nostrils flared as he took in your scent. His senses heightened in this new form. It smelled so sweet and enticing. He remained still fighting his baser self. You slumped down onto your knees in front of him. From this close up he looked even more formidable as if he had manifested from the cracks of Anise. Sweat began beading at your hairline from the heat he was radiating. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care that you’re a Guerra. I just—you lied to me. You never told me about this. Why? Why did you hide this from me?”

He shook his head, growling under his breath in an attempt to scare and evade you.

Feeling bold you reached forward placing your hand over his. The simple touch had him shivering as he attempted to control the feeling of power thrumming through him. The inky skin felt calloused at contact, but oddly smooth when your smaller hand twined over his hand. His growling ceased as your simple touch had him slumping slightly forward towards you and it eased the tension in his being; tamed in an instant by your simple touch. You had so much control over him and you didn’t even know it.

His voice was deeper than you were used to as he spoke. “I had to hide it from you Butterfly. I’m not the only one Tae, Kook and Namjoon are Guerra too. We all have to hide it because of me—because of my family.”

You controlled your expression regardless of how much that additional fact hurt as much. They had hid it from you too. You kept quiet waiting for him to continue. When he reopened his eyes after taking a moment of silence, they sought yours in an act of bravery; pain swirled with the burgundy and it gripped your heart.

“The Guerra used to fight in wars against the Titans to protect the universe—even humans. We are peaceful people, it’s in our blood to be protectors. Papa had told me that we were until the new rule took over and our race became…murderers. Invading planets, colonizing and destroying isn’t how we were supposed to be.”

You sat back on your feet trying to take your hand back but he didn’t let you. He tightened his grip around your hand and you returned the feeling to assure him you weren’t going anywhere.

“My family were personal guards for the royals for generations, but when my father saw that humans were being killed senselessly he couldn’t support stand by the regime anymore. It wasn’t who we were, Guerra—we don’t hurt. We don’t hurt unless someone hurts us or our loved ones.” He voice shook hurrying his words and making them almost indescribable. His thumb was running over the back of your hand in an act of self-soothing. He licked his lips before he began, knowing what he was about to say would probably hurt you, “The war.”

Your hand squeezed his back at the mentioning like he expected. His hands itched pull you into him, protect you from the truth, but for now he had to be content holding you like this; because you may not want to much longer. His head tipped down and his long, black hair curtained over his face. “Our parents…started it.”

Your eyes widened impossibly. Panic settling within you as the painful grip his eyes wrapped around your heart squeezed. “Jin, what? What are you saying?”

He shook his head, strong voice pulling your attention back center, “Listen Butterfly, I know this is a lot, but I need you to listen. You wanted to hear it, and I’m telling the truth.”

“Tell me.”

“Kook’s dad was also a guard with my dad and they both worked together to gather evidence against the regime. His mom was a maid in the palace and would sneak letters to Joon’s dad who worked for the universal courts. They were building a case against the regime.”

“My father found out the regime had been planning a genocide. A full take over Anise to erase all the humans. My father had Kook’s human mother spread the word amongst other palace maids and it spread quickly outside the palace. Kook’s dad was a Guerrian guard too and called his friend, Joon’s dad, who was a member of the universal courts and told him of the conspiracy. They warned people, but it was too late, the war had started and they captured my father. They killed my father and Kook’s…my mother died sacrificing herself to save me and Papa. This house was my mom’s house before she was sold off to the palace to work. Tae’s family was upper Guerrian, an old friend of my parents, who were entrusted to help us escape the palace and come here.”

The face of your mother comes to mind. The face of your father you had lost to the red letter. Your siblings. The ones who came in for tattoos. So many people had been lost.

“After the war the courts made it illegal for Guerra to shift to protect the humans, but there was so much….destruction, so much pain left. It’s not how it’s supposed to be.” He slipped his hands from yours as he looked at his hands with detest. He clenched his fist and the core on his chest brightened. “The war may be over, but its not for me—for us. There’s another uprising soon and the regime plans to strike again. The regime still has plans and if they found out, that a Kim and the others involved in the coup had survived then they would come for me—and you if you were with me. I’d be killed on the spot.“

Tears flowed freely as you sobbed. It explained so much and filled so many gaps. Your heart ached immensely you had no idea he was holding in so much. There was so much you had no idea about, yet the underlying emotion of fear was present. You could lose him, there was another war on the horizon. You could lose him like you lost everyone else. You could only whimper his name.

He sighed and smiled as he wiped your tears. You were too kind with a heart that was too big. It was something he had always loved about you. His hot hands cupped the side of your face, they were so large it curled around the side of your head. “I did this to protect you. You are not safe with me, Butterfly.”

You leaned your head into his touch with your hand going over his and the other on his wrist to hold him to you. You hadn’t realized how much he was holding in and how painful it must’ve been. He had the others, but you know the loneliness he must’ve felt not having his parents and to suddenly carry such a heavy burden. You didn’t have words for how badly you felt for him, but you knew you felt so much. You felt brazen and nothing mattered anymore that everything was out now. “I love you Jin. I don’t want to be without you.”

Hearing the words he feared the most he pulled away from you. In the haste of his motions his torn shirt fell off him like scraps further exposing his shadowed body. Molten veins were pulsing faster along with his core mimicking his heartrate, but the most intense radiation came from the scar like vein that transverse his face. They were glowing at you as his expression scrunched. “You don’t get it! I can’t drag you into this. They’ll kill you too Butterfly. They’ll kill you!” He stood up and your face barely came up his knees. His torn pants were hanging loosely around his waist, and you could see more of the veins shadow and molten on his body through the rips. Shifting on his heels he began backing away from you. He felt the need to defend his one last secret he had been guarding carefully with his whole soul for years. His tone flat, “Leave. Leave and don’t come back.”

His words were like a catalyst causing you to stand up. There was much to fear in life, but you were exhausted letting it be the ultimate hurdle. You were afraid of the future, but a future without him was terrifying. He backed up with every step you took forward to maintain that vital proximity. “I don’t care!” You shouted over his rambling. Tears streamed down your face again. “Don’t, don’t make me leave again. I can’t do it again. None of this scare me, nothing scares me more than not being with you. I don’t care that you’re a Guerra, or that I could be in danger by being with you. None of that compares to the pain of being without you! I was miserable at Jimin’s. I couldn’t—can’t stop thinking about you. Everyone, everyone threw me away, even my own family, and the only time I’ve felt like someone cared was when I was with you. Don’t… leave me too…please. I love you.”

Each declaration chipped away as him like he was taking bullets. You could see his face soften as his resolve was crumbling. It was minute but you caught it, you knew him like the back of your hand. It was the same one before he always caved and did whatever you asked. You moved forward going on your tippy toes as you grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him down to you forcefully. Your lips met skin, but it wasn’t his lips. You had missed his lips and had planted your lips against his chin. You pulled away sitting back on your heels but your hands were still on his shoulders. You head dropped as disappointment overwhelmed you. “Ha, I’m still a child after all.”

He tipped your chin back, his red eyes meeting yours with so many intense emotions love, sorrow, adoration, and fear. You were fearless, always doing whatever your heart desired. You were braver than he could ever be. He was afraid just as much as you were, but here you were jumping into his truth with no gripes. He held you there, held you in his eyes as if the world was within yours. With each second that passed, his feelings of guilt and remorse began to leave him. “No.”

He dipped down capturing your lips in a gentle press hoping to convey all his thoughts. All air left your lungs and it kicked your heart into overdrive. He gently moved his lips against yours and you could only describe his mouth against yours as a furnace. You were unsure of what do as you had never kissed before. Coming to your senses you began moving your lips against his plump lips softly and hesitantly. Skinship was casual between you too, but this level of intimacy was new to you. A low, drawn out groan that held a mix of relief, happiness escaped him as he felt you reciprocated. His hand that was under your chin shifted as he gently cupped your neck. Although you didn’t want to you pulled away for air overwhelmed and unprepared.

“Butterfly,” he whispered huskily against your lips. The air around you grew warmer if possible and heavier around you, and it felt familiar yet new with the desire that began to well within you.

He dipped down and picked you up as if you weighted nothing, his strong arms barely flexing in the motion. Earlier he had to strain and lean down and hunch over to meet your lips. You naturally wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. Jin’s body had always felt overheated to you, but it meant safe and security. It had your body heating up with arousal. He mumbled to himself almost, “You’re so small—so precious Butterfly.” You wanted to refute, you were quite average for a human, but he gave you no such chance.

“Jin—mpf!” He chased your lips this time with unrestrained desire and furiously that had you gasping and glad he was holding you securely to him. Your nails scratched unwittingly against his thick neck and tangling your fingers in his wet hair causing a long, low groan to rumble from deep in his throat. The vibrations sent desire thrumming through your veins. If this was what kissing was like you were upset, you hadn’t done this sooner. His tongue poked out and swept over your bottom lip before he took it between his teeth. It had you moaning tightening your grip in his hair that had him reciprocating the sound. He had greater lung capacity than you and it was evident in the way his voracious kissing never let up. Everything was happening so fast, but you were willingly falling in. You escaped his lips and when you pulled away there was a borderline animalistic growl he released. You couldn’t help the chuckle you released at his sound. You rested your forehead against his and holding his cheek. Teasing him back, “So precious.” He lightly tapped your thigh catching onto the gest. You pecked his lips as you giggled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breathes mixed and he was staring at your puffy and bruised lips. Prideful that it was his doing. “Mine.” His hands tightened on your legs and slid up your tights trusting you to stay put. He gripped and kneaded your hips and you gasped at the possessive touch. A wave of heat went up your spine as you shivered, calling his name. A smirked pulled at his lips, he liked the way that sounded. His lips continued as he kissed the corner of your mouth moving to your jaw. His mouth trailed down until he pressed searing, sloppy kisses on your neck suckling and leaving marks behind. A needy whine that melted into a moan left your lips as he scrapped your hypersensitive flesh with his teeth.

He panted against your neck, unable to hold back his thoughts. “This is wrong.” Despite his protest his tongue poked out tasting your skin. He showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. Your hands squeezed his muscular shoulders holding onto him tighter. You felt small and vulnerable against this expansive figure. You whispered into his ear as you leaned forward. “If this is wrong then I don’t want what’s right.”

He pulled his face from your neck and met your eyes with a look you had seen customers give Anemonas—lust. You knew he saw the reciprocal want there. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me Butterfly. Do you know what you’re doing to me, what you do to me?” He rested his forehead against yours pecking your lips, all for himself so he wouldn’t succumb to the ravenous urges. He had surrendered fully to you. He adjusted you in his arms pulling you closer. In the action your chest brushed up against his and your crotch pressed against his member that had been forming. You mewled tucking your face into his neck at the arousal it sent through you. He chuckled at the cute reaction. He knew you were a virgin. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You shook your head, “I want this. I’ve waited for you long enough. I want all of you.”

He was back on you. He kissed you deeply weaving one of his calloused, inky hands on the back of your neck so he could deepen the kiss further. Night had settled in encasing everything in darkness with the lanterns unlit in the dark room, but you both hadn’t noticed the change. He was radiating a bright copper light from his being. It was enough to cast a mood light as if he was a lantern burning. You didn’t realize he was moving too lost in the feeling of him. The futon was still laid out from your session. Carefully he sat down with you straddling his lap, the whole time he was aware of your back. The skirt you wore had ridden up so far it was exposing nearly all your lower half. He chuckled when you whined as he broke the kiss, the irony. He teased nosing around your temples then neck taking in your scent that was getting sweeter. “You couldn’t stay away could you, Butterfly? You couldn’t listen to me huh?” You mewled as he squeezed your hips. His hands trailed up falling in the dips and curves of your body.

When his hands began to caress your sides, you felt as if your heart was beating outside of your body. It drummed manically, alive only to the sensation of his touch. How long had your body craved for this? Imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on you like this? Even his touch above the material of your robe was enough to suffice and have you feeling manic internally. You felt him everywhere, his palms burning their way to the skin. Over your robe his hands cupped your breast, thumbs rubbing over your nipples. They hardened under the motion. Your thighs squeezed around his muscular ones as you moaned. Your arousal was building as you felt your core stirring.

“I’ve thought about this before.”

Something in your stomach flipped. “R-really?” You stuttered as his warm hands kneaded harder. He kept his eyes on you while he kneaded and pinched at your nipples watching your reactions.

He chuckled lightly, “There’s so much I want to do you.”

“I want to touch, kiss every inch and hold all of you and feel you bare against me.” You had never heard lewd words coming from his mouth before.

You wanted that too. You reached up and undid the knot of your robe and let it fall from your shoulders. You held your hands over your chest, what if your chest wasn’t too his liking?

As if he could hear your thoughts, “Your beautiful my little human.”

You flushed at the nickname and pulled your hands away from your chest, trusting him. You allowed the sleeves to completely fall off you, robe forgotten. He went for your waist instead of grabbing at your breast like you expected. It was always what the men at the Inn did. They always groped at them as if they were drowning, but Jin held your waist still so gently. The looked mesmerized as if he had never seen a more beautiful sight and it had your heart skipping a few beats. “Beautiful, Butterfly.” Your eyes met, and you felt no shame, only love.

“Touch me.”

His hands caressed your abdomen with featherlight touches, although the slight callous to his hands were a welcoming friction. His fingers cupped your breast fully spilling into his welcoming hands. He massaged lightly and pinched at your nipples. Light pleasure traveled into your lower half filling the reservoir. His mouth accompanied his hands. His tongue delicately brushed against your right nipple. Your back arched into the feeling. His tongue felt hot as he teased it around the nipple before his lips encompassed it and he suckled. He took his time tasting you as he moved to your other breast when he felt the other had been marked enough and nibbled to tenderness. He looked up to you and his blazing, wild eyes had you moaning, he looked like he wanted to devour you.

It didn’t sound real to his ears the soft sounds of your moans and mewling. It had him wanting it more, and louder. He released your breast with a soft pop and his mouth was lightly glistening with his own saliva. While holding your unfocused gazed in his he trailed one hand down your navel finding your center over your skirt as he cupped you. You gasped, “I want to see all of you.” He had his hands dipping into the waist band of your skirt and tearing it along with your underwear. It ripped like wet paper as he tossed them somewhere in the room. “Jin!”

You whimpered instantly surprised by his strength again. In that moment you were reminded you were with a Guerra. You tried closing your legs but because of your position it didn’t allow you too.

“Don’t care, need you.” He didn’t want to afford having you moving off him. He inhaled taking in the scent of your arousal and his eye color deepened from red to a blood orange. “Gods, you smell divine.” He whined, suddenly pleading with you, “Please, butterfly, let me touch you. Please.”

You couldn’t resist, as much as you felt shy you wanted to feel him. You wanted it too. You nodded. He shook his head, “Say it. I need you to say it.”

“Touch me Jin.” You got out breathily. He groaned, enjoying the sound of it coming from you.

One finger dipped between your legs and ran up and down your slit. His touch was hot and it didn’t take him long to switch to two fingers coating both of his hands in your slick. “So wet for me little human.” You flinched every time he ran his fingers over your clit. He was so Intune with you as he quickly picked up on your reactions and what had you mewling as he swirled his fingers over your clit in a circular motion. His other hand had trialed back up and was groping at one of your breasts in time with his other hand. His mouth latched onto your neglected breast biting softly at the nipple before he suckled it to soothe the ache. You were drowning in euphoria at his simple touches. “So sensitive.” He commented out loud unaware he was even speaking. You moaned as he played with your body expertly. You had a moment of wonder. How did he know how to touch you so well. How did he know the female body so well when you hadn’t seen or heard of him having any partners? You pushed against his shoulders as your breast made a resounding pop out of his mouth. You combed his hair with your fingers, “Did you?”

He looked up, breathing hot air over your nipple unwilling to part with your body. You resisted the urge to flinch at the tingling feeling. Gulping, embarrassed by your insecure feelings. “Did you…with her, that woman that night?”

He was lost in the furrows of lust it took him a moment to register what you were asking. He laughed sitting up straight finding your eyes level with him. You hated that he was laughing, but he placated you quickly. “No.”

He spoke honestly, “I’ve laid with women before, but I never enjoyed it, not like this. Nothing will ever compare to this, to you. I never loved them. It was to rid myself of my urges for you. I never wanted to hurt you. I only want you.”

Oddly, you didn’t care that he had others, because right now you were here—and going to be forever. You froze in his lap, did he, did he just say he loved you?

Tears pricked at your eyes again, “You love me?”

He smiled, “I do.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you were bubbling over with happiness as a stray tear fell. You pressed your lips to his and he returned the gesture eagerly laughing lightly at first at your excitement. Your bare chest pressed together and it felt so good feeling his bare skin. You felt like melting. His head tipped down exposing his thickened neck as he moaned. The veins on his neck looked like rivers of fire and deep canyons in where the shadow veins took place. You wanted to kiss it like he had yours. Your lips pressed gently over his and it had his eyes rolling back. The fire river like veins that trailed adjacent to his jugular were sensitive. His hips twitched rubbing against your bareness and it had you clutching at his shoulders tightly as you moaned louder than you had before. He made a similar nose under his breath. Egged on by the sound you kissed his neck generously until his skin was damp. You were surprised that despite the change his skin tasted like skin. Although there were hints of smokiness to him now along with his natural floral scent.

He allowed your hands to trail around his chest and large shoulders feeling his skin. His skin felt so soft until you reached the inked skin that felt slightly calloused. One thing that always had struck you odd was that Jin never had any tattoos, now you understood why. His bare torso was a sight to behold and the shadow and molt designs were predatorial. You let your hand trail down his chest and settle over his crotch. A strangled noise left him. He let you experiment and run your hands over the bulge. “Let me see you too. I want to see you Jin.” You were curious, you had seen human male client’s nude before on accident, you wondered if Guerrian anatomy were similar. You assumed as much since their non shifted form was human-like. Just from the outline you already had an idea he was large. “Please. I want to make you feel good too Jin.” You were too cute to resist.

From underneath you he used his hands and ripped his pants apart and tossed the flaps around. He wasn’t wearing undergarments. His length was standing erect against his navel. When you finally saw it you felt a mix of emotions thrill, anticipation and fear. The length and thickness was intimidating, but his large size must be normal for a Guerrian. Surely, he was much larger than the males you saw at the Inn, but that may have been down to your inexperience. His cock was just a bit darker than his natural skin color, but at the thick base the inky pigment ombred into his skin color. On the shaft smaller capillaries of fire ran up the shaft to the tip. Two, large, adjacent shadow and molten veins ran on the underside of his cock leading to the bulbous tip and disappearing into the slit. The tip was leaking thick fluid that was almost gelatinous.

Late at night when service was done sometimes the other servant girls would stay up and talk in your room. Some tips and trades were exchanged that weren’t recipes that they had gathered from Anemonas. Pulling from your bank you grabbed the base of his cock and your fingertips barely touched and it already felt heavy in your hands. It swelled slightly growing firmer in your touch.

“Ah-fuck, Butterfly!” You retracted your hand thinking you hurt him. His cock made a resounding slap against his stomach as you let go. He grasped your wrist, “No, don’t stop, it’s okay. It-it feels good.”

You nodded grasping him again and his expression scrunched. Your small hand felt great, even though your grip was loose. It was you touching him and that already had him on edge. He felt like he could cum any moment.

“Is this good?”

He groaned, nodding, gods, you were so innocent and it made him wan to defile you even more.

You ran your hand up and down the shaft using the precum that had leaked over the tip to coat him in his own esscence. Out of curiosity, you brought up your fingers coated in his precum to your lips and wrapped your lips around his fingers. The salty, bitterness that greeted your taste buds was a harsh contrast to what you had imagined. The girls always in the throes of it had moaned how good they tasted. It wasn’t bad, just unexpected. You are swallowing every little drop of precum from your fingers.

He lost it as if awakening the feral Guerrian part within himself he had been controlling. He grabbed your hand as it reached for his cock again. He grunted, huffing through his teeth, “Next time.” You whined trying to reach for him again, his grip tightened on you. His eyes were blown out wide, “Butterfly. Next time.” He kissed your pouting lips. “Right now, I want to feel you.”

You shifted over his crotch, but his hand found itself between your legs again. You looked at him questioning. “I need to prepare you to receive me.” You blushed at your eagerness then nodded in understanding. Switching back to one, his finger circling your entrance carefully. You could hear yourself, sticky as you coated the pad of his finger, and you fidgeted, wanting more but still feeling nervous. On cue, he slipped the digit inside you. Your velvet walls squeezed around the intrusion and you winced. His fingers were smaller than his cock, but way bigger than your own fingers. You whined, but he pressed kisses to your lips gently pulling you in a passionate make out. His finger began moving deeper within you and he swallowed each of your noises. “If you can’t take my fingers how are you supposed to take my cock, little human?” You panicked thinking he wasn’t going to put it in you. “No, Jin, I can take it. I can take you.”

He smirked, but underneath he was also a bit concnerned. You were so small compared to his current figure. If he was in his human form there was only a small difference, but he couldn’t shift back now. You grinded against his hand sending a wave of pleasure overriding the pain. The dulcet sound encouraged him, to continue prepping you. This time your walls accepted him sucking his finger in with a desperate need, locking him in placed. He explored you a little, dragging and rubbing inside you, trying to stretch you for what was to come.

“Let me add another finger.” You nodded as you felt him pull his digit out and press another finger up to your twitching entrance. He pressed in and the initial sting hurt as well as the push inside. He rubbed your hip with his other hand in soothing circles. Shifting his hand around he pressed at your clit with his thumb rubbing similar circles. You moaned into the touch as his fingers began to sink into your cunt. He began pumping his fingers into you and the reserve you had been building was soon becoming too much. You had no idea this could be so pleasurable. The woman at the Inn never bragged that sex was this great, always stating it was dull at most.

“Jin? Jin somethings happening, something’s coming.”

He captured your lips increasing the pumping of his fingers and circling around your clit. “Come for me Butterfly, come all over my fingers.”

Your walls clenched around his fingers and suddenly you were bursting, creaming all over his fingers. He slowed his pace down a bit until you whined. Both of your eyes were blown out and unfocused already despite him still not having his cock in you. The pleasure was already so good. Your scent of arousal had flooded the room and it was making his brain hazy. He pulled his fingers out of you and popping them into his mouth. He groaned at the sweet taste of your essence. It was like junq and cream. It was just as sweet as the rest of you. “My fucking gods Butterfly you taste so good.”

You were panting body still twitching over him. Oddly you didn’t feel exhausted but you wanted more, you wanted more of him. As if he could sense it he captured your lips pressing you for a lasting kiss mixing your tongues. You could taste yourself on his tongue but you didn’t mind it. “Butterfly, I want to lay you down, kiss every inch of you. Taste every inch of you. But for right now, I want you to ride me.”

You nodded and with his help you hovered above his tip, letting him settle against your opening. He moved his cock against your slit collecting your previous cream. “Do you want my cock little human?” He asked still keeping a seductive tone, but he was worried, holding your hips in place.

“Yes, I want this.”

You took his cock from his hand and brought it up to your entrance. You were trembling slighty but you pressed down letting your hips fall. His fingers were definitely smaller than his cock, but you were glad he prepped you. He watched you letting you take him at your pace. The sting burned and you felt like you were going to rip as you kept taking in his tip. With the head in you paused chest heaving at the tight fit. You struggled, feeling a little foolish. He was strong as he was supporting your whole body weight with a single arm while he leaned back on the other to get a better look at you. He groaned at the way he watched your pussy suck in his cock and it disappeared in you. You paused with just the tip of him in. You were so tight holding him in a vice grip. He felt like a young Guerrian again, he felt like he could come at any second but he fought hard against it. With encouraging words to distract himself and to help you slowly you sunk fully onto him to the base. His cock was so hot, hotter than the rest of his body and it was throbbing within you. Unable to resist anymore he pressed his hips upwards sinking further into you until his whole cock was in you. You cried out loud back arching as you could feel him all the way in your stomach.

You felt heavenly. He pulled you closer to by the waist and encouraged you to wrap your arms around him. The slight motion had you whining but he hushed and assured you. His lips found yours, unable to resist, as his tongue and yours moved against one another.

“You don’t belong in anyone else’s arms but mine.”

You squeezed at his shoulders.

“Ready?”

You nodded and with the help of his hands on your hips he dragged you up to the tip of his cock. On the drag down moans tumbled forth from your parted lips, mouth dropped open at the intense pleasure. His grip on your hips tightened as he helped you repeat the action and soon you were riding him. You were fucking him He moaned your name. Hearing him use it in this context set your body alight. He proved to you just how much he liked what you were doing, no matter how inexperienced you were by being vocal. You hadn’t expected that from him as he was normally quiet and introverted.

“Turn over for me.”

Carefully you twisted in his lap and the noise his cock slipping out of you was sloppy enough with the mix of both of your juice it had a flush rising to your cheeks. You allowed him to move you so that your back was facing him. Gently his fingers moved over your freshly tattooed skin. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the center of your back, one for each butterfly. You were gorgeous in his eyes, nothing could compare to you. “My Butterfly.” He kept moving you until you were on all fours, ass up and bent just right for him. With his other hand he brought his cock back to your entrance and pressed inside you. It had you moaning at the new feeling and it felt he was going deeper inside you. Slowly he maneuvered so you could get used to it before he was pounding into you. You felt encompassed by his large being. Your elbows collapsed under you as your face was on the mattress. You turned around looking over your shoulder. He looked delirious as he pumped himself into you. It had your walls clamping down on his length. He grunted losing himself in the pleasure.

“Gonna cum Butterfly?” You nodded. He reached around your front fingers finding your clit. It had you mewling and squirming. He pressed down onto you nearly laying himself over you as he kissed your shoulder.

“My good little human. Mine. All mine.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore as you came. His cock swelled slightly, molten vein within you brightening as he neared his end. A high pitch whine escaped you as he increased his pace. “Jin! Oh my gods, Jin!” He thrusted harder and deeper inside you. He was lost in the pleasure. His pace was becoming sloppy as he came coating you walls in his thick cum. He twitched above you as he kept cumming, filling you fully with his seed.

You whined as you collapsed underneath him. His cock slipped out of you, but you both didn’t care about the mess. He fell next to you on the mattress, both of you were heaving. Turning you over carefully onto your side so you were face to face with him he brought you into his chest with his hand draped over your waist. You were beyond sweating and overheating, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be in his embrace. Your hands rested on his chest. He dipped his head down and your lips lazily worked against one another.

Pulling away, you blinked sleepily. His eyes were trained on you with a similar soft expression.

“I love you.” In a raspy voice that sounded heavy with sleep, he confessed.

You giggled pecking his lips. “I love you too.”

You blinked as light shined in from the porch resting the urge to tuck yourself back into the comforter. You turned over onto your side sitting up, pushing the hair back from your face. Inhaling deeply fresh air. You look towards the source of light that ultimately woke you up coming in from the porch. You promised yourself it was only going to be a short nap, but the sky outside was already darkening.

Jin’s wide shoulders were hunched over as you could see one of his arms moving. You crawled over towards him. He had set up station on the porch as the weather had gotten much warmer. When you reached him you wrapped your arms his waist plopping your chin over his shoulder. You peeked his cheek, “Hello.”

He hummed twisting his head around to peck your lips quickly. “I didn’t want to wake you, you were sleeping so good.”

You groaned but it was endearing to him. You planted your chin back on his shoulder. He held your hands tightly still. His black inked hands with the fire veins exposed freely as he worked.

“Something came for you.”

You perked up at that. He let go of one of your hands and dug into his robe coat pulling out a letter. He held it between his fingers. “It’s for you.”

You lit up at the sight of the letter. Had Cherry written you? You wondered if her and Hoseok had finally tied the knot since they moved from the city. You crawled around front and sat yourself in his lap and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You flipped it over a few times, it had your name on it but it was addressed from a place you didn’t recognize. For sure this letter wasn’t from Cherry.

“Who’s it from? Are you sure this is the right Y/n?”

He propped his head on your shoulder like you had earlier. “It’s right.”

You pulled at the side seal and dug your finger in ripping it open. You pulled out a letter and quietly read it over. He tightened his grip around your waist as you were the quietest you’ve ever been. Your eyes grew bleary and tears began to slip down your cheek. You turned around in Jin’s lap, hand shaking, “How? How did you?”

He smiled wiping your tears from your eyes. “I had to do a lot of research, but I found her. I sent her a our wedding picture. She sent her blessings and this letter for you.”

You were ugly sobbing as you pressed your face into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. Your mother hadn’t forgotten about you and was very proud of you as she wrote in her letter. She was proud of all you had done for humans and Guerrian alike. In the letter she said she had tried looking for you but wasn’t allowed into the capital all those years ago. She never stopped thinking about you. With the liberation and breaking of the apartheid after the two-year war a few years ago, she was finally free to come to the capital and she wanted to meet you. Your siblings are doing well. There was nothing about your father. But this letter, that’s more than you could’ve ever asked for.

He held you tightly in his arms. When your tears dried you leaned back and pecked his lips. “I-you’re—I-I love you so much.”

He smiled and captured your lips with his, “I love you too.”

You smiled clutching the letter closer to you. Shyly you pulled back holding out your forearm. “Paint one for me?”

He took your arm and pecked the skin, “Anything for you Butterfly.”

The ink was always cold, but his warm hand was enough to counter it. With a last stroke he painted a butterfly on you. You held your arm up to the sky that was painted in an array of colors welcoming the sunset.

Everything was alright.

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ladynyctophilia · 4 years ago

Text

Avoiding Red

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Mature Themes

Pairings: Vivienne Tang x MC (Rozario)

(Vivienne’s point of view.)

Tick, tick, tick…

Hours had passed, but Vivienne was stuck in time. Her long, slender hands gripped the sides of the vanity. It was the only thing that kept her tethered to the real world. She didn't know how long she'd been standing like that. Hours? Minutes? She was in a statue like trance—a statue on the break of collapsing.

Rozario.

Rozario was gone.

My Rozario.

Vivienne blinked, wide-eyed and trembling, like an animal caught in a cage, struggling to control the storm of emotion that churned inside. She glanced at the mirror but hissed as the invisible noose yanked her gaze away. She choked.

I'm a monster.

But her gaze hardened.

No. Look at yourself.

Begrudgingly, Vivienne lifted her head, heavy with demons, and locked eyes with the enemy in the mirror. Herself.

I promised her.

Vivienne declared to herself, unblinking, her heart pounded as threatening as a war drum. The Poppy escaped, but at what cost? Their newest member paid the price. It made Vivienne want to wrap herself up in a black hole and cease to exist. Without Rozario to color her life, she felt empty, numb to everything. A woman in red, walking alone in a world of black and white. No diamonds could satisfy this river of misery. How long could she swim before she drowned?

If I held on tighter...

A crack of emotion rippled across Vivienne's features as an anguished cry ripped out from her throat. She never cried, but here she was crying, screaming with the voice of a thousand sirens, shoving off all the contents on her vanity. Glass shattered, and the sound of chaos became her music: dance sad girl, dance.

Glass soared in every direction, obliterated on the floor. The perfume began to pool out and around the shattered bottles, like blood escaping the veins. Some shards of glass even managed to puncture Vivienne's skin, but she didn't notice, or maybe she didn't care. Besides her jagged breaths, the room was quiet again. The smells, however, were quite loud, tangling for dominance.

I can't do this.

Vivienne thought to herself as her hair ghosted over the glass-covered surface of the vanity. With shame, the tears were beginning to burn, so she stroked her ring in search for comfort, but it brought her none. No. With quick realization, Vivienne gasped, yanking the ring off as if it might burn her. The last person she used it on was Rozario. Her heart did a few somersaults—the bad kind.

I stabbed Rozario.

Her breath hitched.

I poisoned her.

Making a choice was one thing, but accepting it? Her body collapsed on the vanity, tears mapping down her already wet cheeks. This crippling burden made it to overwhelming to stand. Like a racehorse pushing past its limit, she wasn't physically unable to continue. Besides her rapid breaths, she didn't make a sound and completely disregarded the state of her makeup.

There was no other choice.

A voice from a past Vivienne chimed in. A last-minute attempt to justify what she had done.

Without that poison to slow down her heart, she would have bled out.

"She could already be dead," Vivienne winced. She could feel what was left of her heart sliding into the pit of her stomach. Vivienne groaned into a cough, clearing her throat. "Ugh," Vivienne silently cursed in french, rubbing her temples to soothe a growing headache.

Okay. That's enough.

She needed to get up. She needed a plan.

After that, much-needed outburst, Vivienne had once more regained control and recovered her mask, but she felt terrifyingly empty. Like everything human had been stolen with Rozario, but finally, Vivienne found her feet, dragging her gloved hands down her rapidly aging face.

Fuck.

Vivienne thought as she glanced at the mirror and took in her appearance. Emotions were never good for the skin.

Regret hung in the air, and a small part of her knew she should have just left in Venice like she originally planned. Then this day would have never happened. Rozario would have never been shot, and Vivienne wouldn't have known this avalanche of agony. She had tolerated heartbreak before, but never to this extent. It was like the entire world had swallowed her, with nowhere else to run, and when there was no escape, Vivienne would make her own escape.

Rozario was gone.

She repeated in her head. The one-hundredth declaration was not as grueling, but none of The Poppy knew where their prized artist was….or IF she was. Seeing Rozario fall off the helicopter was like something from a bad dream, but it wasn’t a dream. She winced at the memory. The gamble with the poison might have saved Rozario from bleeding out, but it didn't save Vivienne from the betrayal that masked Rozario's face. Vivienne didn't have time to explain, and now she might never get to explain, and maybe that was the best thing for Rozario. A reminder to the young artist that life with The Poppy wasn't a vacation, yes they lived a life of freedom, but at the end of the day they were criminals with a lot of money on their heads.

Very suddenly, Vivienne became acutely aware of the objects in her room that were stained with Rozario's presence. Her eyes twitched, and her mind went from everything to radio silence. Rozario's half-finished sketchbook rested on the table with a dull pencil nested nearby, and near the door were her sandals, worn from their lighthearted adventures in the major cities they've visited, and Vivienne didn't even want to begin thinking about her lover's clothes that waited to be worn in HER closet.

Oh no. Don't look.

She looked. She looked at the bed, their bed. It's where Rozario should be right now. Nowhere else. With possessiveness, the fire was relit and bulldozed over any control that Vivienne had JUST regained, and without skipping a beat, Vivienne went on a rampage. The thief was no longer in control of her own body as she ripped down the curtains, pushed over the couch, flipped over the table, and shattered every mirror insight. Red. Red. Red. RED!!! With her leather gloves torn, blood now dripped from Vivienne's clenched fists, a matching addition to her cape, but Vivienne remained unfazed as she turned her gaze towards her next victim.

The bed.

Bundling up the expensive sheets in her arms, Vivienne marched over to the open window and flung the sheets out, watching as they were stolen by the wind and never seen again.

Huffing and puffing, Vivienne was breathing like she had just finished a marathon and lost. Even the air was begging for mercy, but a spark of morning temporarily blinded her.

How DARE you.

Vivienne's gaze pierced out the window as shades of purples and pinks bled into the Paris skies. The world had no knowledge of Vivienne's grief. It merely just carried on without being swayed. It was a reminder of how insignificant their lives really were. That was a nature Vivienne desired to possess, but when it came to her precious Rozario, she couldn't. Shame. It was going to be a beautiful sunrise, if not day. She blinked out tears, a cool down from her rage as she admired the delicate colors that swam in the skies. It reminded her of Rozario.

A heavy fisted knock jerked Vivienne out of her head. Leon.

"Vivienne?" Leon called out in a gentle voice as if she might come out and bite.

Oh, Leon.

She could hear his big feet shuffling around nervously.

"Yes, darling?" She answered, but made no move to open the door, purposefully restraining any emotion in her voice that would give her away. Now, she had time to examine the full state of her room. It was a mess to say the least, and with the sun on the rise, many pieces of shattered glass glittered like a thousand tiny suns smiling at Vivienne specifically. She glared at them in return. Besides the glass, the bed was no more, if it wasn't broken, it was turned over, and the few plants that Vivienne kept were smashed on the ground. Leon couldn't see this or the state she was in. NONE of The Poppy could see this. She could feel the warmth of their concern from miles away, and she knew that Rozario held a special place in each of their hearts too...but with Rozario gone, Vivienne remained more distant than.

"Zoe tracked the people who took Rozario. She's alive, and they have her in a hospital, eight hours away from Paris." Leon did well to hide the urgency in his voice, but the low rumbles of concern gave him away. "We don't know how long we have."

There was a pause as Vivienne closed her eyes, allowing the new information to seep into her being, finding strength from it. Rosario was alive. That should have been enough to lift her injured spirit, but knowing that the government had her amor in their clutches was enough to make Vivienne see RED.

"Red…." she breathed, knowing the wave of temporary contentment the safe word would bring. "C-can you get us there in five?" Vivienne spoke up, a little shakier than she wanted.

"Easily," Leon declared without an ounce of hesitation. He was always the hero. Vivienne could have smiled at that, but she didn't.

Now shaking, Vivienne let out a tired sigh, "wonderful," she almost laughed, "I will be out in five." Leon didn't respond, and Vivienne could hear the jingle of keys as his heavy steps faded away. They had an understanding. No words were necessary. Rozario was in a hospital, and they were going to get her out. It wouldn't be the first time Vivienne had broken someone out of jail. Leon and Nadia were proof. How could a hospital be different, if not easier?

After Leon left to start the car, Vivienne excused herself to the bathroom. There wasn't any time to reapply a full face of makeup, but she recovered what she could, and exactly five minutes later, Vivienne marched out of her room with her red cape in tow and red lipstick threatening. Vivienne Tang was a woman in love, and the universe feared for whoever dared to stand in Vivienne Tang's way. They were going to get Rozario back because she was a Poppy and The Poppy were masters of doing the impossible.

To be continued....

#vivienne tang #vivienne x mc #queen of thieves lovestruck #leon kwan #lovestruck #fanfiction #HEIST GONE WRONG #angst #being gay and doing crimes

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womanwhowritesformany · 4 years ago

Text

We’ll Be Alright

Ellie x Original Female Character

summary— When Ellie and Joel arrived in Jackson County years ago, Lars was another teenage girl that Ellie met. The two of them instantly clicked over their shared experience of losing family, knowing how to use a gun and bonded over the nature of Wyoming, drawing and the music they found. As Lars and Ellie grow up side by side their friendship grows stronger, and when they're old enough for patrols, it goes further than friendship... but sometimes things like this is hard to figure out, especially when you barely have experience.

*this one shot can also be found on my A03 account @ womanwhowritesformany

warnings: none + no spoilers. just fluff. friends to lovers

When Ellie and Joel arrived in Jackson County years ago, Lars was another teenage girl that Ellie met. The two of them instantly clicked over their shared experience of losing family, knowing how to use a gun and bonded over the nature of Wyoming, drawing and the music they found. As Lars and Ellie grow up side by side their friendship grows stronger, and when they're old enough for patrols, it goes further than friendship... but sometimes things like this are hard to figure out, especially when you barely have experience. But when a girl named Ellie and her dad Joel (she assumed it was her dad, but later found out that it wasn't actually her dad), Lars immediately showed Ellie the county.

Although the man, Joel, was very protective and followed the two around the whole entire day, not leaving Ellie's side. But as the days and weeks went on, Joel realized Ellie had made a friend. Lars and Ellie were close, doing almost everything together and it gave Joel a reason to smile, despite everything that was going on in his head. “Hi! My name is Lars.” She’d introduce herself, smiling very big, missing a baby tooth or two. “Lars is just my nickname, my real name is Larsa. Please, don’t call me Larsa!” Her eyes were wide.

“I’m Ellie.” She would say, standing with her arms strictly at her side with her posture straight and chest out (like Joel had stood most of the time to push off the impression he was strong).

Ellie felt a bit overwhelmed at Lars’ presence; She was very eccentric, the way she had worn mixed up clothes but somehow made it work, the way her hair was cut short and usually messy, but extremely stylish. Lars may have been awkward with things she would say, or how she stood, but she was always an extrovert, and that worked. But within the hour that they met, Ellie was extremely excited to have a new friend.

For the few years they had become friends, their friendship blossomed into something special. It was like they had known each other since they were young, but in reality, it was just a couple of years. And now, they were finally old enough to go out on patrols together. When the days they weren't out on patrol or going on runs, they were either hanging out like teens normally do with others. But sometimes, almost every night, Lars and Ellie would stay up talking all through the night about anything and everything. They were always both curious, except Ellie was a bit more reserved with her feelings; that’s where her room really showed off who Ellie was. And Lars loved that. Posters, music, books and numerous drawings of Ellie’s and even sketchbooks lying around. And as for Lars, well, she was very energetic and always spoke about the movies she remembers and the movies she would see here in Jackson, Lars was curious about everything, and soon enough, she became curious about love. She saw in the movies all the time a man and woman falling in love, so she wondered if that would ever happen to her.

Lars took the definition of love from the movies she saw and the books she read (the books were from Ellie’s room) and the more she focused on it, the more she applied it to herself and Ellie. And that had suddenly sparked an epiphany on her feelings towards Ellie.

No matter how much Lars constantly spoke and hardly ran out of energy, Ellie liked it. And that’s where Ellie felt curious about feeling something for someone.

Curiosity for them both, was more than just their realization of what they felt for one another. Obviously, they kept it to themselves. But the curiosity for liking each other had reached a small amount of physicality. Their hands would brush against each other whenever they were alone in Ellie’s room, or during a movie at the small theater in Jackson. (They were both completely oblivious to their feelings, but other people weren’t - they picked up on a special bond between them two. Especially Joel. Joel knew something was happening before they did. He knew, and he was happy for Ellie - happy for Lars. He could barely admit to himself, but he was excited to see it blossom).

They were on patrol. Ellie was sitting in a chair with her gun by her side, watching the trees that moved in the distance as the leaves would fall off of the branches. Winter was about to arrive, and they felt it as the air got colder and crisper. Lars stood just a few inches away from Ellie, her back against the wooden wall of a small cabin like home. It was getting darker out, and soon they would leave so another pair could take over for the rest of the night.

"Whatcha thinkin' about over there?" Lars asked, as she observed Ellie's face, the moonlight shining on her making her face glow.

She shrugs in response and tilts her head to look at Lars. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Jesus, Ellie, your face is so scrunched up." She laughs, walking over to sit by her. "You alright?"

"I think so," ellie answers, "just your typical teenage stuff."

"You know I understand all too well! I mean, just last week, Jesse was trying to go on a date with me. A date! Like seriously, where do you go on dates around here? The community's hall where you eat? And besides, Dina and Jesse are good together. I think. They do argue a lot, but then again it's not my problem. Also, Jesse is cute--adorable and all, but he's not my type. At all."

Lars looks over to Ellie, who wears a blank expression as she blinks at Lars. "What?"

"You really ramble a lot." Ellie smiles.

"Oh sorry."

"Lars, when do you ever have to be sorry to me?" She bumps her shoulder into hers. "You're being you, and that's great. You're great."

Lars starts to panic internally, as she takes in Ellie's compliments and her support of her awkwardness. "Oh Ellie, thank you." Her cheeks begin to heat up.

"So, why don't you like Jesse? Besides Dina being in the picture."

"I said he's just not my type." Lars answers, looking away. She begins to think about Ellie, the friendship they shared all these years. How grateful she was to find someone like Ellie, the way she just came into Jackson and in her life out of the blue. The nights they spent together, whether it was up and out here on patrols, or inside her little home with Ellie's drawings and posters and books and sketchbooks everywhere. The way Ellie would look out for her and the way she would look out for Ellie. She felt almost too lucky... and suddenly, Lars is staring at her, without noticing that Ellie is paying attention. She looks at all her freckles that cover her face faintly but still noticeable. She likes her nose, the way it's small and just perfectly fits Ellie's face. The way her eyebrows pull in and her lips scrunching up to the side. Oh.. her lips. Her pouty, adorable lips.

"Can I kiss you?" Lars blurts out, and immediately regrets it as she averts her gaze away from Ellie's and to outside. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Lars." Ellie pulls her shoulder so that she could look at her. "Its okay, really."

"Yeah, good. Just forget it." She nods.

"No, really. It's okay."

Lars is confused, but once Ellie pulls on her arm, she cups her hands on Lars' jaw on both sides and looks into her eyes. "It's alright."

"You don't have to do this for my sake, Ellie. Just forget it." She didn't want sympathy, not now and not ever. From no one, especially Ellie.

Ellie chuckles, then pulls her face in and hovers her lips over Lars'. They face each other, lips centimeters away. Lars' breathing picks up as she panics, gulping away as she's so not ready for her first kiss. But then it happens. She feels the softness of her lips, but such a strong force it was. It was euphoric, Lars swore she was on fire by how heated she got, how the butterflies in her stomach were an infinite amount, just fluttering away with nowhere to go.

It was sorta ironic, a bit funny too, that Ellie was the one to be so energetic with the kiss and not being shy about it. Whereas Lars was the shyest she had ever been. The kiss between the two friends had advanced from a peck, to a full on almost making out, lips fighting each other for dominance. Although Lars wanted to be the one to control it, Ellie wasn’t having it; the way she held Lars almost still as her lips molded onto hers, very rarely giving a bite or two, it had made both the girls let out their own type of moan; Lars’s surprisingly like a wince, and Ellie’s almost like a growl.

Once Ellie pulls away, they sit breathless, eyes still closed. .

“I really want to say what's on my mind right now, but I am so scared.” Lars admits, keeping her eyes shut.

“Hey there, don’t go shy on me now.” Ellie kept her hand on Lars’ cheek as she emphasized the ‘now’. “It’s okay, it’s just me, Lars.”

“Yeah I know,” she scoffs, “that’s what makes me scared.”

Ellie leans in and kisses her jaw, then slowly up to the corners of her mouth and finally reaches her lips, tongue slightly running over her bottom lip. Lars shivers as the gesture. “Whatever you want to say, I guarantee you I won’t run.”

Lars opens her eyes to see Ellie staring at her. She sighs and squeezes Ellie’s thigh. “I think I’ve loved you for some time.”

“Loved?” Ellie teases.

“Ellie…” She sighs as she blushes. “I do..I do love you.”

“I love you too, Lars. Just like you, I think I always have.”

They sit there during the remaining time on patrol, waiting for the others to come relieve them. Side by side, their thighs are squeezed against each other as they keep their hands on their weapons, to be responsible and ready for any clickers, stalkers or even people that come along. Ellie glances over at Lars a few times, just soaking the feeling of how she made her feel, in. This meant something more now, more than just a friendship.

"By the way, what and who the hell is your type?"

Lars shyly smiles, leaning into Ellie's tattooed arm, "You."

“Was it like the movies?”

“What are you talking about Ellie?”

“The kiss. This…” She intertwines her hand with Lars’ and squeezes it. “Was it like the movies you’ve seen.”

“No,” Lars tilts her head up on Ellie’s shoulder and stares. She can see Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed in, and her lips in a pout. “Because when I watched every movie with love or whatever, it just never had someone like you or me. So, I guess I’m trying to say it was better than the movies.”

Lars tilts her head back and lets her lips kiss on the inside of Ellie’s neck, and that’s when she relaxes, finally content with something in her life. “This isn’t going to ruin anything right? Between us.” she asks as she cuddles further into her neck.

“Nah,” she feels Ellie shake her head. “I think we’ll be alright. Yeah, we’ll be alright.”

#TLOU #TLOU2 #the last of us 2 #ellie #ellie williams #ellie x ofc #ellie x original female character #ellie + ofc #original female character #ellie one shot #tlou2 one shot #tlou2 ellie #no spoilers #i promise #friends to lovers #joel #womanwhowritesformany

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donna-darkstar · 5 years ago

Text

ask from cause tumbler is dumb @noevilshxllescapemysight

❤️ - hug my muse from behind 

Donna’s gaze traveled around the gallery in delight to see all of her friend’s artwork featured so prominently for everyone to admire instead of hidden away in his sketchbook. Kyle was really talented and his work deserved to be seen. After numerous hours convincing him to take up the offer to have his work featured in an art exhibit for the month, he had finally relented and agreed.Now she felt under dressed among all the high enders of the city - Kyle hadn’t told her it was this nice and she wrapped her arms around the satin dress she had chosen for the event, for once every bit aware of how she looked. Pushing those thoughts down, she milled around the room and looked around at pieces she had seen in smaller versions and some new ones altogether, meanwhile trying to keep an eye out for a familiar face. 

Upon seeing him alone, having just finished a conversation with an older posh couple, she snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around him in a surprise hug. All her anxieties of the high class event and her appearance melted away in his familiar scent that usually filled the apartment. It was comforting. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this big of deal - I would have dressed up more! All these people…and your artwork looks amazing up on the walls for everyone to….see..” she trailed off, her chin resting on his shoulder as she saw the piece they were standing in front of. It was her. Well, a really delicate and…and beautiful version of her. It still surprised her how he saw her - in a better light than she ever deserved.

“Kyle…”

💪 - pick my muse up

Donna! Donna, hey! Put me down. Donna pointedly ignored the young man’s protests as she carried him back into the apartment after she caught him trying to sneak out again. Under doctor’s orders he was supposed to be resting after he had the living shit beat out of him barely a week ago. She didn’t think it would be this hard to follow orders but seriously, it felt like babysitting at times - she even had to threaten Wally at one point because he had tried to help him sneak out.“You need to rest. I told you I would get you anything you needed, what could be so importa-” she was cut off as his squirming caused her to lose balance as she placed him back on the bed - she had given him her room while he healed - and she managed to just catch herself as she fell on top of him in the process.  

His surprise at their close quarters was mirrored in her own deep blues and it took a minute for either to recover, Donna first, as she moved to untangle them only to wince as her dark were entangled in the chain around his neck. “I think we’re stuck..” she murmured, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in and he reached back to unclasp the necklace to get a better angle at disentangling them. Oh sorry, let me get that… Donna held still, bracing herself on either side of him as she waited patiently, her gaze rolling over some of the ugly discolorations that still peppered his tanned skin.Her attention snapped back to him when he finally undid his necklace from her hair and she paused before pulling back. “Just…I need you to be okay, okay?” she murmured softly, a lot gentler than her earlier harsh tone, and he slowly nodded in understanding. Sometimes they understood each other better in whispers and the small gestures than anything else.

😙 - cover my muse in multiple kisses

“Remind me why we agreed to this game night…” Donna grumbled as Wally explained the rules once more to pairs standing in front of each other. It was girls versus guys and so far most of the night had been relevantly tame, albeit from a few risqué answers to the Never Have I Ever and Twenty Questions, but now it was on a new level. The girls had accepted a dare and all bets were off as Wally explained the rules: the girls had to put on a ridiculously bright shade of lipstick and then spell out a word on the boys using only their mouths in a certain amount of time. Some of her teammates for the nigh giggled nervously while others smirked at the challenge. Donna found herself in between the two as she saw who the redhead had paired her with: their third roommate.

‘It’s just a game. It won’t make things awkward. Probably better him than anyone else…’ she thought to herself as she applied a very bright shade of pink before approaching a grinning Kyle. Looking down at the word in her hand, she frowned and looked back up to him skeptically. “How am I supposed to spell that out on your arm?” I think I can help with that.. he said as he slipped off his shirt to reveal more skin for her to work with. And there was that stupid grin again. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked as she pressed a couple of kisses along his abdomen to begin spelling out her task, feeling his breath change as she did so.

The room was full of laughter and competitive banter but Donna was focused on her task and the way he reacted to simplest touches, even though it was only her lips. She snuck a peek up at him, fully expecting some goofy smile but instead his eyes were closed and he looked like he was really concentrating. His bronzed skin shiver as she slowly traveled up his chest till she finally finished off the last letter just as her teammates screamed in victory and the buzzer went off. Standing her full height she finally met his eyes again as he opened his and took a breath, wiping a smudge off the corner of her mouth as their gazes both traveled down to the words written across his skin.

Tethered.

💤 - cuddle up to my muse & 😖 - bury their face in my muse’s chest

Despite their likeness to the gods above they had plenty of reminders that they were still mortal in certain senses of the word. They could bleed, they could hurt, and they could fall ill - the latter striking down the green warrior when he least expected it. He seemed to have quickly gotten worse by the day because when a god-like being fell, they fell hard. Donna had finally convinced Wally to go back to work by reassuring him they could take shifts and she would stay with Kyle for the time being.

She spent most of her energy worrying, as the green titan was usually in and out of consciousness, so she didn’t have to monitor him too much except provide some water or a cool compress in effort to break the fever that continued to plague him. It wasn’t until she noticed he was visibly shaking, despite the blankets, that had her leave her work desk and join him on the couch. The Amazon wasn’t worried about catching the disease, she couldn’t remember the last time she was sick, so the close proximity wasn’t an issue which was god because as soon as she sat down the man clung to her for warmth.

Sinking more comfortably into the couch, she allowed him to burrow himself closer to her and she placed a protective arm around him, frustrated she couldn’t physically fight off this disease for him. She was, however, taken by surprise as he buried his face into her chest and let out a contented sigh - a mix of shock and annoyance that slowly gave way to permittance since he clearly didn’t know what he was doing. If he wasn’t so sick and delirious, Donna would have probably put him through a wall but these were special circumstances. “Doubt you’ll even remember this…” she murmured as she heard his breathing slow and she closed her eyes, resting her chin on top of his head and relaxing to the sound of him finally resting peacefully.

Even wannabe gods needed a rest.

honorable mention @let-the-sparks-fly

#ask meme: kyle #x: i see shades of you when i don't want to

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poems-and-pillows-and-puppies · 5 years ago

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Song of the Sea: Chapter 2- Scabbard

Hello there! This is chapter 2 of the Pirate!AU inspired fanfic. The original AU’s mastermind is @thenerdyalchemist. I hope you enjoy! Here’s the link to the Ao3 chapter- https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967113/chapters/54936304

Rayla was falling. Falling, like a feather from the seagulls she loved to watch so intently with her parents. Deep, in the cold darkness of forceful rest. Her hands felt feather light, her eyes felt like lead. She knew she had to reach her fathers, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t touch, couldn’t reach- She could see nothing, but she could see everything. She could see her Papa, unconscious on the floor, and her Dad, pacing back and forth in a frenzy. She could see the looks of horror in the eyes of some of the men that had hurt her Papa, hurt her Dad, made her cry. She couldn’t help but forgive them. She was sure that this was all an accident. That they meant to snatch another girl. But the hooded guy’s words echoed in her subconscious. They said they wanted her, and it made her feel… terrified? Sad? She didn’t know, just like how she didn’t know how to comfort Dad when he was sad and sniffly and all messy. Just like she wanted to know then, she wanted to know now, how to hold her Daddy’s hand and tell him that everything was alright, that their little girl was safe and sound… But no matter how hard she tried, her mouth would not open and her vocal chords refused to play a single note. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to understand why her Papa was running away, hiding in the bustling crowd, from Dad. Why her Dad and her Papa were crying, alone in the masses, separated from each other even as they mourned in tandem for her fate. She wanted to feel the rough calluses of the crewmates again, the soft feathers of the seagull that always followed her around. She wanted to taste the briney spray from the sea that she refuses to dive into, the cold treats that she and Papa loved to seek out from their nomadic adventures through the local markets. But, even as she drowned in air, hair whipping around her face like the sail in a powerful storm, she wanted OUT. She wanted to be released from this prison, the shackles of sleep that bound her to her unconscious. She tugged at the chains, feeling hysteria clawing its way up her throat. With one final sigh, she stopped resisting the flow of time and allowed herself to fall down, down, down….

A shiver snapped her back into the physical word, and each waft of cold air brought her closer to full consciousness. ‘Where.. am I?’ She opened her eyes, trying- and failing- to blink out the film that covered her violet eyes. She felt cold bars around her, and she shifted slightly in order to stop the rusty metal bars of her cage from digging into her thighs. The rope binding around her wrists chafed her flesh slightly, and she winced from the friction. The sound of mature voices, both male and female, caught her attention. “The girl is only 10! You can’t possibly…”

“We must...Pirate..”

“Your Majesty…. Hasn’t been trained..”

Rayla strained to hear what they were saying. ‘Their accents are so different compared to Dad and Papa’s…Am I still in Alorminia?’

“The girl couldn’t possibly become the next Pirate King!”

Oh, their voices were getting louder.

“Yes, she can. Any pirate could become the next Pirate King!”

That man.. His voice sounds familiar, but she couldn’t quite place from where.

“Normis.”

“The Pirate King’s partner was no better. He flashed his weaselly eyes at me when I was spying on them!”

Oh, now she knew. ‘That roundish merchant was a spy? I didn’t think about his behavior that deeply.. No wonder Papa and Dad had been able to stay safe for so long! But then..’ She frowned. ‘Then I came along. They had to worry about me. That’s why Papa got hurt in the first place.’ She bowed her head from the uncomfortable position she was in. ‘It was my fault that this all happened. He was hurt, and it was all my fault. All my fault… All my fault.’ The thoughts rattled in her mind, destroying all of her other thoughts. ‘It was my fault, wasn’t it? If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have had to defend me. It was all my fault.’ Her eyes began to itch, and she struggled to wipe them without creating any noises that would alert them to her consciousness. She heard a clatter, and her heart dropped in tandem with the spike of fear that impaled it. The dreadlocked man, the one they kept calling ‘King Harrow’, had stood up from his ornately-decorated chair. His forehead flashed with sweat, and beads of the fluid had traveled down the man’s chiseled face, much to the confusion of the young girl. ‘It’s cold in here. Why is the man sweating?’ He cleared his throat, a deep “ahem” rumbling through the air like the panther’s growl. The entire room went silent. “We must not think too hastily. We must not execute the girl. She is too young for us to determine what she will be like as she grows up.” His baritone voice was deep and strange, but it comforted Rayla like a rough-shod fiber blanket on a cold and starry night. She relaxed, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. ‘I don’t know what ‘eggs-e-cute’ means, but it sounded bad. Or maybe..’ She tilted her head, confused. ‘Cute eggs? I’ve heard someone call me that. Are they.. complimenting me?’ Perplexed by this turn of events, she chose to stay silent instead of voicing her confusion out loud, an action that would most definitely speed the debate up. “My lord!” A woman shot out of her seat like one of Runaan’s cannonballs. “What would decide to do instead? Keep her within these castle walls to spy on us? We cannot trust-” King Harrow held up a gold-encrusted hand, and she halted her barrage. “Opeli.” The lady, newly dubbed ‘Opeli’, shifted at the mention of her name. “We will not let her stay in the guest chambers.” Opeli’s tense position softened, and she began to take her chair once more. “But.” She stopped moving as if she had been frozen in time. “We will not execute her until a final decision is made. Take her to the jail cells.”

“M-my lord! I-”

“Opeli!” The firmness made clear in his tone made everyone in the room flinch, including Rayla. “Do your duty and take her to the jails. She must not be interrogated until a final order is made. Have I made myself clear?” King Harrow looked upon her in annoyance. Opeli curstied hastily and squeaked out a feeble “Yes, my lord.” She turned toward Rayla’s cage. Rayla’s eyes widened in fear. ‘What are they doing to me?’ Opeli kneeled down to open the cage and was met with a small growl, not unlike a young guard dog. She recoiled slightly, then bent down to see the young girl baring her teeth toward her like an enraged hunting dog. “Your Majesty. The girl is awake.” Murmurs of shock and worry reverberated around the room. “How will we transport the girl there?” A voice pierced the tense atmosphere. King Harrow frowned. “Try to take her out. If she struggles, keep her in the cage.” Rayla shuddered. She did not like the cage. It felt so alien, so different from the open seas and decks that she loved to roam. Opeli kneeled down and ruffled around in her robes. After a few moments of searching, she pulled out a small copper key with a quiet “Aha!” She gently inserted the key into the lock that kept the cage’s door shut and began to turn it in different directions. A soft click signalled that her efforts were not in vain. She slowly opened up the cage door. Rayla cowered in the very corner of the small enclosure, terrified of the woman who was now reaching into her space. Opeli noticed her apprehension and drew back, worried. Rayla uncurled herself to take a better look at her. Her long, flowing hair was touching the ground, cleaning the smooth stone floor of the throne room. It framed her oval face like curtains, reminding Rayla of the caramel-colored curtains that Ethari had bought for the couple’s 5 year anniversary. She smiled, no longer the scary woman that had been arguing with the king not long ago. She extended her hand out tentatively, and the woman’s much larger, rougher hand tenderly clasped it. “Hey, there.” Her melodic voice calmed Rayla down a little, quelling her fears temporarily. She took a deep, calming breath. ‘Maybe… everything will be fine.’

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

Everything was most definitely NOT FINE. Rayla whimpered underneath the board that doubled as her bed. ‘I don’t like this.. I don’t… don’t…I want Papa...Dad..’ Tears brewed in her eyes, and she let them fall, crystalline droplets twinkling like diamonds in the night-time. “I want to go home…” She curled up into a ball, wishing with all her heart to be back in her parents’ arms, to be back on the ship, frolicking with the crewmates… anything but this. The cold stone sucked away her heat, her love, her happiness… She weeped, letting her sniffles echo into the unyielding stone walls. Her dad was always holding back his emotions, but she wasn’t him, and she let the tears flow like twin rivers, moistening her bluish tattoos. The sound of sniffling echoed back to her, but it sounded… different. Soft footsteps padded on the stone-covered ground, and she shot up, ears perking up ever-so-slightly. ‘Dad? Papa?’ The sniffles continued, and Rayla realized that there was no way it could be her parents. She sighed and fell to the floor, tears continuing to flow freely down her face. She turned her head and gasped silently at who it was. It was a small boy, younger than her for sure, toting a small satchel-sketchbook and a long, winding scarf that trailed down every stair he had previously stepped on like a bridal trail. The boy himself looked no better than her, nose red and yellow in the torchlight, eyes puffy and swollen. He hiccuped, a pathetic noise that would’ve driven her to comfort him, if she wasn’t trapped in a cell. With a jolt, she realized that there were no guards accompanying him. ‘If he hadn’t done something wrong, like me, then why is he here?’ She watched, confused, as the boy plodded over to a nearby jail-bench. He unwound his scarf and turned to the side, revealing his rounded ears. He disappeared into the shadows of an adjacent cell, leaving Rayla to wonder what the boy was doing. A few minutes passed, then she heard a quiet ‘twang’ sound from within. The boy walked out, holding a wooden instrument that Rayla couldn’t recognize. ‘What is he doing?’ He began to pluck it, turning one of the four pegs in tandem. Once he had finished playing that peculiar tune, he reached into the darkness and pulled out a… long… stick? Rayla, at the expense of being redundant, asked herself, ‘Just WHAT is he DOING?’ He placed the stick straight in the middle over the instrument and took a deep breath. And, in the next breath he took, took her breath away. As his stick moved, his fingers danced upon the instrument. The indescribable melody took Rayla on an adventure. She felt the rush of wind and the feeling of leather upon her skin, of crows and green pastures that she had never- and would never- see. She saw cattle grazing, people playing with fans and cherry blossoms in the chill of midwinter, feathers dancing around an awestruck crowd. She ran and laughed and twirled in the petals of the hyacinths, played with people who she had never seen before, flew- then it all stopped. The boy stood, sobbing for breath, as his last note pealed through the air. He stood, panting, as the notes died away and the echoes began to fade. He began to pack his instrument up. Rayla looked on in wonder. ‘That was.. a song?’ She felt her cheeks and they came back wet, even more soaked than before he had came down to serenade the empty walls. As the boy scaled the stairs, she began to wonder. ‘Who was this kid? Why did he come down just to play that for me?’

‘Did he know I was there?’

As the thoughts swirled and hatched in her mind, she closed her eyes, finally content with the heat of the stone below her. How it became that warm, she will never know. However, she knew that it must have had something to do with that boy. She faded into a dreamless sleep, her face finally peaceful in her slumber. Opeli smiled from her place at the scrying bowl. “Callum, what have you done?” She stood up. “I must go. The step-prince awaits.” Her boots clacked against the floor, and the scrying bowl was clear once more, the final wisps of bluish magic fading away from its rim. “And so does she.”

#thenerdyalchemist #tdp #thedragonprinceofficial #the dragon prince #fanfic #pirate!au #ruthari #runaan #ethari #tdp pirate!au

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itsmyusualphannie · 5 years ago

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something wrong in the village

Chapter 1/5: genesis Beta: @candanandphilnot Rating: T Warnings: None Read on ao3

Summary: Fiona Lester has a secret. Dan Howell thinks they hate each other. Dan meets an online friend and comes to realize something important about himself while juggling a changing relationship with his parents, friends, and Fiona.

Author’s notes: this was written for the phandom writer discord server’s gift fic exchange! happy holidays @sudden-sky you’d better enjoy your present

~~~ next chapter ~~~

"Mr Howell, are you with us today?"

The voice broke through Dan's concentration on his sketchbook and he glanced up, meeting the cool gaze of his English teacher. "Uh," he said. He didn't set down the pencil gripped in one hand. "Yeah."

His seat juddered as the person sitting behind him kicked it. Dan's pencil, the tip still set to the sketchbook, skidded across the paper and left an angry scrawl across his rough sketch of a drum set. Dan could feel the smirk of the person sitting behind him. He fumed, but had to do so silently as his teacher cast him one last glance before turning back toward the board.

"As I mentioned, Dan, we're reviewing parenthetical citation today, since everyone's essay is due next week. Can anyone tell me how in-text citation for MLA format is used in research essays…?" Her voice faded into the background as Dan focused back onto his sketchbook.

He scribbled ineffectively with his eraser at the deep gash carved into the paper for a few long moments, then pursed his lips and stared down at the ruined sketch. Finally, he let out a slow breath and reached for the corner of the page. This barely-begun sketch was completely ruined now. His fingers rustled against the edge of the paper and he lifted it, trying his best to avoid any more attention from his teacher, but his chair was kicked again, and Dan almost ripped the paper as he jumped. He hastily flipped the paper over to a new page and hissed over his shoulder, "Stop it, you dick."

There was no response, but it was a smug silence. Dan was almost at the back of the classroom, so the person sitting behind him was in the very back and had little regard for the teacher, anyway.

Dan held still for a good minute, but no other kicks jarred him. Cautiously, he lowered his pencil to the blank, full-of-potential paper, and outlined a swift cylinder. He had just begun to add a matching cylinder, the next drum in the set, when another kick, the most ferocious all day, shook his seat. Dan dropped his pencil and clenched a fist. "Cut it out," he snarled.

This time, the person just laughed, a quiet, mocking thing.

Dan considered his options. He could, a) Raise his hand, politely tell the teacher, politely be told off because Dan was disturbing the class, and be sent to the principal when he inevitably snapped at the teacher; or he could, b) Very carefully place his sketchbook, pencil, and various class materials into his backpack so he wouldn't get them mussed, very carefully slide out of his seat, and then very carefully place a well-aimed punch to the cheek of the asshole behind him, and then be sent to the principal, but with a much more fulfilled feeling in his chest.

Dan did take his time weighing these options, but the second option was ultimately decided for him when said asshole's shoe thudded into his chair again. Dan very carefully collected his materials and slipped them into his backpack, and then he very carefully slid out of his seat, and then he very carefully aimed a punch at the cheek of the asshole behind him.

Well, that last part didn't end so well. The asshole had evidently been expecting this, as Dan's fist was neatly avoided and Dan was instead caught by the elbow and slammed face-first into the hardwood floor.

Thud, went Dan's body.

Thud, went the asshole's body only a second later when Dan grabbed the nearest ankle and yanked.

“DANIEL HOWELL,” went the teacher, which Dan found quite unfair, as he was clearly not the only one sprawled across the floor at the moment.

~~~

They were both sent to the principal's office.

Dan had miscalculated feeling any fulfilment in his chest, as the only feeling he had right now was a dull ache where his breastbone had cracked unceremoniously into his desk leg upon a furious kick from the asshole. Their flailing on the floor had taken a full two minutes for the teacher to break up, and Dan had gained his share of throbbing injuries. He'd done his fair share, though, as the other was nursing a tender eye that was sure to bloom into a beautiful black eye.

They glared at each other in the secretary's area until the principal called them in.

"Why am I not surprised to see you two again?" was all she said upon seeing them. She rubbed the space between her perfectly-plucked eyebrows and then raised both eyebrows at them. "What happened now?"

A mutinous silence reigned.

"Sit down," she sighed.

They sat mutinously.

"Daniel Howell," she began.

"Louise," started Dan, in the same tone.

"It's Dr Pentland," she continued in the exact same intonation, "and I'd like to know what, exactly, persuaded you to attack the lovely Miss Fiona Lester?"

The asshole seated beside Dan cringed back into the seat. Dan refused to look over, just stared at the principal with a carefully bored expression plastered across his face.

Dr Pentland kept his gaze for a moment, and then she sighed deeply and turned to Fiona. "And you? You're both troublemakers. You’re constantly on your phone in class and Dan is always drawing and not paying attention to his teachers. I'm sure that Dan didn't decide, out of the kindness of his heart, to paint your face instead of his sketchbook."

As if she hadn't remembered until just then, Fiona touched careful fingertips to the bruise slowly blooming beneath her eye. She winced, then tossed a long, wavy lock of dark hair over her shoulder and stared ahead with uncanny amusement. A deliberate shrug, then a sly glance sideways at Dan.

Dan ripped his gaze away from her and glowered at the floor. He definitely had not been watching her.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Dr Pentland buried her face in her hands. The words were almost indecipherable, muffled. "Oh, god. Are my kids going to be like this when they get to sixth form?"

Dan and Fiona took the chance while she wasn't looking to exchange mutual sneers. Fiona's was considerably more impressive, Dan noted, but that didn't damper his resolve. They hastily looked back at Dr Pentland when she lifted her head.

"Alright," she said, and then nodded, firmly. "Alright. I've had enough of this. Ever since you two began this year, you've been at each others' throats. It's quite time for this to end."

Incorrect, Dan thought with glee. He and Fiona had been at each others' throats since they were twelve and thirteen, respectively. They just hadn't physically tussled in school until sixth form. It was a perfect, mutual hatred. Dan didn't think many other 16-year-olds could say that they had a real-life, mortal enemy.

At least Dr Pentland was one of the few who didn't insist that it was just sexual tension and that they would get over it soon enough. She took their mortal hatred seriously. Well, if her almost-weekly exasperation was serious.

Besides, Dan would never be attracted to someone like Fiona. He may only be sixteen, but he knew what he liked, and that was not Fiona. Well, Dan maybe knew what he liked. He thought he knew what he liked. He didn't know what he liked, but it was not Fiona.

" - and you're going to take a note to your parents, too," finished Dr Pentland, which was just about where Dan tuned back in, having heard nothing she had said in the past two minutes. She regarded them both sternly. "Understand?"

Fiona nodded. Dan nodded more apathetically, never one to be outdone even if he definitely did not understand.

"Great. Get your notes from the secretary. I expect you both to behave once you come back to school. I hope your time off will give you some time to think about your actions."

There was a pause, wherein Dr Pentland traded suspicious stares with both Dan and Fiona. "You're dismissed," she said finally.

Dan scrambled to his feet and for the door, but Fiona beat him. She yanked it open and waved him through with a wide, obnoxious smile. "Ladies first," she said, teeth bared. Her eyes were ferociously beautiful.

Dan threw himself through the door with aplomb and snapped back at her, "I'm a fucking queen, thanks."

~~~

They were suspended.

Dan wasn't exactly surprised when the secretary had scribbled something onto a note and handed it to him. "I already emailed it to your parents," she told him with a too-smug expression as if to tell him that Yeah you can't get out of talking to them. Dan had just yanked the paper from her hand and shoved it in his pocket with no regard for its carefully-folded lines.

Fiona had elbowed him aside and the secretary had begun to rise from her seat, alarmed at the prospect of another fight, but Dan just scoffed and turned his back, grabbing his backpack from the seat he'd been waiting in earlier. He'd left much less dramatically than he'd hoped, as the door slid shut with a quiet hush instead of slamming.

He'd stood defiantly on the kerb for a good ten minutes before giving in and dialling his mum. Fiona had passed him with an air of disinterest, but when she'd peeled out of the parking lot in her old, rumbling car, she'd waved two very specific fingers out of the window at him and just laughed when he returned them. Dan had only been left with the superimposed image of her open, crooked grin and sleek hair whipping around her face. He hated her.

"Dan?" said his mum when she answered, but it was more resigned than anything else. She already knew why he would be calling at nine in the morning on a school day.

"I'm suspended," he said, voice still brittle from the hoarse memory of screeching when Fiona had yanked on his hair during the fight.

She sighed. "I'll call your dad. He'll get there sooner."

"Thanks," he said reluctantly. He kicked the kerb with the tip of his worn Vans. They scuffed a little more than they already were.

"We'll talk when I get home from work," she promised, "just...do your homework, okay? Don't let it be like last time."

Last time meant the one-day suspension a few months ago. Dan had walked the three miles from his house to Fiona's and hurled tiny rocks at her bedroom window until she'd yanked it open. He'd generously exchanged the rocks for eggs, gratified immediately by her shrill screams.

No one seemed to remember that Fiona had returned the favour when she slipped a rotten egg in Dan's bag a few days later. No one remembered her part of anything.

Dan hung up without saying good-bye to his mum. His phone chimed a moment later with a text from her. Stay out front & text me when yr dad gets there.

Fine, he texted back, then shoved the phone deep into his pocket and glared at the empty parking space that Fiona's car had vacated until his dad arrived.

~~~

"Homework," his dad reminded him one more time before rolling up his window and peeling away from the kerb in front of their house, on his way back to work. Dan glowered after him and whirled to make his way into the house. Their front door slammed, at least, which left Dan with a burning fragment of pleasure as he stormed toward his room. He hurled his backpack onto his bed, then made his way back to the front room and into the kitchen. Raiding the pantry and the fridge yielded a chunk of cheese, a bag of crackers, and a chilled half-bottle of Ribena.

Dan had mostly calmed down by the time he'd eaten most of the cheese and crackers and the Ribena bottle was empty. He'd sprawled on the chair in his room, slumped over the spoils he laid out across his desk. Brushing the crumbs off his open laptop, he apathetically watched them bounce to the floor and nestle between the curls of carpet. Future Dan could deal with it.

Sometimes, Dan wished he had even one real friend. He didn't think a gaggle of casual acquaintances who didn't even really know him counted as friends. His self-named mortal enemy certainly didn't, although sometimes it felt like she knew him better than his friends did.

A good two hours passed as Dan lazily scrolled through his Tumblr dashboard, occasionally reblogging or liking a post. He briefly considered doing his homework, but he had three full days to do that now. He briefly considered collecting some eggs and going for a walk but decided he was in enough trouble as it was. Fiona might not even be home, too.

It was only when the clock above Dan's desk clicked as it hit noon that Dan glanced up and noticed how much time had passed. He scowled at the clock and rebelliously continued scrolling through Tumblr.

Need Freinds?

Dan stopped scrolling.

He didn't know if it was the typo, the horrific bouncing image of two generic white girls smiling brightly at each other, or even the advertisement itself that made him do a double-take.

"Who the hell wants to make friends?" he said aloud. "And especially on Tumblr. These advertisers should know better."

He rolled his eyes and resolutely continued scrolling.

Two minutes and twelve posts passed, and then Dan scrolled back up to the advertisement. The two girls were still grinning at each other, their falsely-white teeth gleaming. One was curling her hands in the shape of a heart.

It was disgusting, Dan resolved, and he clicked on the ad. It was purely for the irony of such a decision, of course.

The ad popped open a new tab, which rapidly cycled through a few sponsored links and subsequently, briefly panicking Dan as he thought frantically that it must have been a virus and oh, he'd fucked up now. Finally, the link settled on the homepage of a website that declared 'FRIENDS on Fleek - Find the FRIEND For You!' It was suitably themed, with overly bright colours and cheerful anecdotes from people who had supposedly used the website and found 'friend' matches.

We're location-based! declared the 'About' section about halfway down the homepage. We guarantee that your BFF won't be halfway across the world, so you can eventually meet them in person with no problems! Find your FRIEND match now!'

Definitely disgusting, Dan decided.

He clicked on the 'Sign Up' button in the top right corner. Just for the irony, of course.

He filled out the forum that asked for a username and password, his name, which he simply put as 'Bear,' age, gender options - She/Her, Him/His, They/Theirs, and a personalized option made some small part of Dan a little more interested in the website - and a brief biography. Dan put "lol rawr xD" in the biography and laughed for a solid two minutes before clicking to the next page. This one asked for his favourite songs and bands, favourite foods, and about fifty other random questions that Dan mostly skimmed. This probably-a-scam website had a considerable amount of effort put into it. Dan wasn't sure whether to be worried or impressed at the detail they'd invested.

The last page asked him for a profile picture and to reveal his location.

This information is secure, promised the website, as any scam website would likely promise, but to make sure no one lies about their location, you must activate the location tracker on your device. This is similar to location-based dating apps such as Tinder but is much vaguer. Your location will be in a general 50-mile area.

However, continued the cheerful, almost blindingly-bright font a few lines down, you do not need to share a profile picture if you do not feel comfortable! Please check 'Decline' to decline this option.

Dan considered the warnings his parents had given him for the past sixteen years of his life about revealing his location and picture to strangers. He considered the talking to he was going to get tonight about his suspension, and decided to - ironically, he insisted to himself - only obey half of the warnings.

He revealed his location, but he clicked the Decline button for the profile picture.

Congratulations! chimed a message as soon as the screen had finished loading, absorbing his personal information into the Matrix, probably. You're in our system to find a FRIEND! Please be safe when meeting all new FRIENDS.

"Gross," said Dan.

The new personalized page showed his profile and a few options in the website page bar to 'Upgrade' his account. There was a notification bar in the upper-right corner and a tiny envelope icon, which Dan assumed was for messages from "FRIENDS," he announced, loud in the silent house.

0 New Matches, said the notification bar when he clicked on it.

Dan scoffed. Of course there were zero matches. Even a scam website couldn't find a fake friend for Dan. Then again, it probably wanted him to 'Upgrade' his account.

"Nice try," Dan told the website. "I have exactly enough money for the music festival in three weeks, and I doubt I'll be getting anymore for another month or two because my parents are mad at me now. I'm not upgrading shit."

The website automatically refreshed.

Dan just blinked at it. "The fuck? Are you trying to communicate with me?"

The website unhelpfully did not do anything else. Dan squinted at it and slowly moused over to click on the notification bar.

1 New Matches, announced the notification bar.

"Sure," said Dan. He flicked the mouse, ready to exit out of the entire website, but his gaze caught on the notification again.

It taunted him.

"Fuck you," said Dan, and he clicked on it.

The page reloaded again, revealing a profile that was fully-fleshed out other than the profile picture, just like Dan's.

85% FRIEND match! declared the banner above the profile.

Dan rolled his eyes generously and skimmed it. Hi my name's Phil, said the biography, and since you're probably a creepy stalker I'm not putting personal information in this, other than my favourite TV show because you need to watch it. Stranger Things is the best and oh I'm running out of space ok.

Name: Phil. Age: 17. Gender: Male (He/Him). Location: Within 25 miles. Inbox: Open to matches. Message "Phil"!

Dan scoffed, but he could feel interest stirring in his chest. He ruthlessly attempted to squash it, but the interest had no plans of letting go anytime soon. It persistently clung to the edges of his heart. He ignored the tiny envelope icon next to Phil's name which prompted him to initiate a conversation, and scrolled further down the page, taking note of the areas where they had 'Matched' up.

Mutual favourite bands? Muse was the only band they had both listed, but Phil's list also said Like 500 more I'm not naming them all.

Mutual favourite TV shows? Great British Bake-Off Show, Breaking Bad, Sherlock, Queer Eye, Bojack Horseman.

Mutual books? None. Phil had listed a few but Dan hadn't put down any of his. At this point where he'd been answering the questions, he'd just been trying to finish the form.

Mutual favourite foods? Pizza. Dan's had also said Pizza dips, but he figured he'd let that one slide. Phil's also said Sweets, in general, at which Dan crinkled his nose.

Mutual…

Phil had apparently given up on the other fifty or so various questions, as all of these were blank. Dan had filled out only a few of them, but he was disgruntled suddenly, that his lack of effort had been beaten by this guy.

Ah, Dan reminded himself, this bot, probably.

He stared at the screen for another few minutes. He was waiting, although he didn't want to admit it to himself, for a message - even if it was automated - from the match. The minutes passed, and none came. The page stubbornly did not auto-refresh, so Dan did it himself a few times, eyeing the little envelope icon each time.

Finally, he heaved a deep sigh. Irony, he reminded himself. "Do I have to do everything myself?" he muttered at the computer, and then he clicked on the envelope icon next to Phil's name.

A new page loaded. An inbox this time, apparently. It was empty, but a new message opened, automatically addressed to 'amazingphil' and titled "To my new FRIEND match Phil!"

Ask your new match about one of your shared interests! prompted faded text inside the message box. Or tell a funny joke!

"Gross," Dan said again. He deleted the message title and replaced it with "wtf is stranger things?" A few moments of rapid tapping against the keys, and he had 'lol wtf is stranger things & why is it your favourite TV show? & whose fave food is just sweets and pizza?' in the body of the message.

"There," Dan decided. It was just rude enough to put off any actual humans that might be on the other end but random enough that a computer response would find it difficult to decipher. He hoped, at least.

He clicked the send button. Immediately, another prompt from the website popped up, glaring neon colours as it informed him that Once your new FRIEND match responds, you can open the chat and talk with more ease! Until then, you are restricted to one message a day.

Dan scowled heavily at it. This website was obnoxious and far, far too extra. He'd probably been ironic for long enough. It was time to shut this down...unless...well, surely it wouldn't hurt to ironically get a reply from a bot?

As if summoned, his inbox chimed with a new message. Dan stared wide-eyed for a long moment, but then he opened it, fingers trembling subconsciously as he clicked.

'Stranger Things is the best TV show ever!!' declared the message, sender listed as 'amazingphil.' Dan blinked widely. 'tbh you're missing out if you haven't seen it. And sweets are a perfectly normal food! whose favourite foods are just pizza and pizza dips? I'm concerned for your safety'

Dan heaved in a breath. He heaved another. He reached for the keyboard, but his hands disobeyed him and instead yanked the laptop screen down. It thudded shut with a resounding bang!

"I'm going to get murdered," he announced to the empty room.

~~~ next chapter ~~~

#phan #phanfic #phanfic au #high school #trans phil #misunderstandings

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providentially-demonic · 6 years ago

Text

Miraculous Mystery Skulls: Chapter Five

First Arc: a Spellcaster, a Ghost and a Mechanic walk into a bar Paris

Summary: On their honeymoon in Paris, the City of Lights, the trio of Vivi, Lewis and Arthur encounter more than sightseeing… in the form of monsters, supervillains and a pair of teen superheroes. Sometimes, miraculous things can happen, when you least expect it.

(A Mystery Skulls/Miraculous Ladybug crossover event)

A/N: This all started with this fic by @phantoms-lair and the silly idea of them running into Chat Noir and Ladybug while there. It grew…

It’s a tale of heroes, miraculous, found family and more (with a healthy dose of puns). Co-created and written with assistance from @phantoms-lair, so she deserves some of the credit and a lot of the blame! :P

Back to Chapter Four

Chapter Five: Setting Stories

It was well after five in the afternoon when they split up, the trio to head back to the hotel, and Marinette and Adrien to her place in the hopes of coming up with a decent cover story, for all concerned.

Marinette checked her phone while she walked, unsurprised to see several missed calls from her mother and Alya. She winced. “Mama is going to ground me for life if we don’t come up with something soon.” She turned her phone so Adrien could see the notifications.

“Nice background,” was all he said.

Marinette eeped. She’d forgotten her lockscreen had a picture of Adrien. “I-I—”

Chuckling, he tapped her nose with a fingertip. “I get it… finally. I—” he pulled out his own phone and unlocked it, grimacing at three missed calls from Nathalie. He pulled up his gallery and showed her the folder full of nothing but photos of her as Ladybug. “This was all I could do when I didn’t know who milady was.”

Marinette flushed bright red. She swore she was going to pass out one of these times if he kept making her blush like this. “We were both a little oblivious, huh?”

“Only a lot,” groused a grumpy voice from inside Adrien's’ shirt.

“Plagg, be nice,” Tikki scolded from Marinette’s purse. “The magic kept them from realizing.”

“Not their identities,” Plagg retorted. “Just that there was always someone right frigging next to them that was important.”

Adrien ducked his head a little sheepishly. He might have started apologizing for his blindness if Marinette’s phone hadn’t started ringing right at that moment.

Marinette bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. “It’s Mama. I should take it but I still don’t know what to tell her!”

Adrien tipped his head to one side before a smile inched over his lips. “I have an idea. Go ahead and answer it. Play along.”

Reluctantly, Marinette slid her finger over the answer icon. He was her partner and she trusted him, but… “Mama?”

“Marinette?” Sabine’s voice was strident with worry. “Where have you been? I heard on the news about an akuma attacking the museum, and then Alya called saying she hadn’t heard from you since the attack and you weren’t on the bus back to school—!”

“Mama—”

Adrien broke in, pitching his voice loud and breathless. “Marinette! Did you find your phone? Great! Nathalie has got to be going out of her mind since I missed fencing!”

“I—” Marinette swallowed and forced her voice to steady. “I did. It was ringing when I found it. It’s Mama.”

“Oh, good, that’s even better! Hi, Mme. Cheng!”

“Marinette, who’s that with you and what happened?” Sabine’s tone had calmed down a little.

“It’s Adrien, you remember him from my class? He’s with me. We got caught in the Akuma attack.” She hoped Adrien had a plausible excuse for them.

“Oh, heavens, were you hurt?”

“No, Mama, we’re just fine, we just—”

“Hid in a janitor’s closet from the Akuma!” Adrien put in, his voice pitched to carry. Marinette obligingly turned on the speakerphone. “But the door locked automatically and we couldn’t get out until the janitor let us out. My phone was dead so we couldn’t call anyone for help. We missed the bus back to school!”

Marinette could almost see her mother’s raised eyebrow. “And your phone, Marinette—?”

Adrien pointed past her, at the school.

Oh! “I accidentally left it in my locker at school when I was rushing to grab my sketchbook,” Marinette rushed to explain. “We just got back to the school so I could find it. We’re heading home now.”

“Could I ask a huge favor, please, Mme. Cheng? Could you call Nathalie for me and let her know I’ll be at the bakery so she can send the car for me? You have her number, right, from those times she had you provide food for photo sessions?”

“Oh, yes, I do. I can call her for you. She must be worried too!”

Adrien rolled his eyes, but agreed with her. “She must be. We should be there in about fifteen minutes. Thank you so much!”

“I’m just glad you two are safe. I’ll see you when you get here. Oh, and Marinette, you should call Alya. She was worried about you too.”

“I will, Mama. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Marinette ended the call and sighed heavily, leaning into Adrien. “I hate lying to her, but no one else can know yet. It’s not safe.”

Adrien rested his arm around her shoulders. “I know, ladylove, I know. I’d hate lying to my father too, if he were anything like your parents.” He huffed his bangs out of his eyes. “But I’ve been doing it so long, just for a chance to breathe, that it’s… almost habit.”

Marinette winced. Adrien’s father was an overly controlling person. Even Chloe thought so, and that was saying something considering Chloe rarely thought about anyone but herself first. “He— he really doesn’t like you outside of the mansion, does he?”

Adrien shook his head. “I don’t remember it being that bad when I was younger, when— when Mom was still alive. But since then, he— he’s trying to protect me.”

Marinette sighed and slid her fingers into the hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “But he’s stifling you. I— remember how happy you were to come to school? Maybe he thinks he’s protecting you, but sometimes he’s smothering you.”

Adrien’s sigh was thin, a bare breath of air. “Believe me, that I know. Why do you think I run the rooftops like a stray a lot of the time? Plagg gives me a chance to escape… me. Or the me he thinks I have to be.”

Marinette felt a sick twinge in her stomach. She remembered Chat’s refusal to give up his freedom, and now, knowing who was under the mask, it made so much sense it hurt physically. “Just to breathe…” she repeated softly.

Adrien squeezed her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. At least this way, I have some measure of freedom, and a chance to be with you, whether facing Akuma or another day at school.”

Marinette bit her lip. “You’ll always have me, kitty. But—”

“But?” There was an undertone of fear in that and it hurt to hear it. Marinette tightened her fingers on his in reassurance.

“Your father… well, he wouldn’t like it if he knew, would he?” She asked softly. After only a couple of encounters, she could hear Gabriel’s icy tone in her mind and she mimicked it as best she could. “ ‘She will be a distraction you cannot afford, Adrien. She will cause your grades to slip and you know what will happen if that happens.’ ”

Adrien heaved a sigh. “The same thing he threatens every time I’m not fitting into his perfect little mold. He’ll pull me out of school and there goes another freedom.”

Marinette’s voice went firm. “I’m not giving you up, believe me.” She slid her arm around his waist and pulled him closer to her side. “I just got you, and I don’t give up easily.”

He chuckled a little, but his expression was pained. “I— I don’t want to lose this though.”

Marinette winced. “Me either. But— I hate to say it, but I can’t tell Alya. She’s my best friend, but—” she blushed and ducked her head. “She’s been trying to help me— um, get together with you— I guess would be the way to put it, since I first told her I ha-had a crush on you. She wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself if she knew. I trust her, but—”

Adrien’s cheeks had pinkened a little too, but he smiled down at her. “She’s a little too close to the story. Too invested,”

Relieved that he had understood, she sighed and brushed her cheek against his shoulder. “She’d tell Nino, at the very least, and well, I’ve known Nino since we were kids and he can’t lie for beans. If someone were to ask him, he’d break. Maybe not right away, but—”

Adrien only nodded. “What do we tell her though? I mean, can you go back to acting like you did before… y’know, the stuttering and—”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m a horrible actress.” She smiled up at him. “And now that I see my kitty in you, I’ll never be able to unsee it, silly puns and all.”

“My puns are paws-itively terrific.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“So we— what?”

“Tell her the same thing we told my mother. That we got locked in together. We talked, because we had no other choice. You— you told me there was someone else you were in love with. Not even a lie, really.” Her smile was a little rueful, but only a little. “I’ll tell her I’m okay if we’re just friends and hopefully that will keep her from asking too many questions, especially because she’ll think I’m heartbroken and won’t want to hurt me more. You’ll probably have to deal with her being a little sore at you for a while, though.”

Adrien winced. He’d had an experience or two with Alya’s temper. “Joy. But—” His cheeks turned a darker shade of red and he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Spit it out.” Marinette teased. “You look like you have a hairball.”

He shot her a glare. “I-I’m greedy, I guess. I want to be able to spend time with you, just not pretending all the time. Like— like we were today.”

Marinette’s heart softened at the forlorn look on his face. “Silly kitty. What’s stopping you from coming to my balcony, like so many nights before? You always know where to find me. Even if we have to play a role during the day, we can be us there.”

All of the tension went out of him, and after a glance around to make sure they were alone, he tugged her close and kissed her fiercely on the lips.

Marinette melted into the kiss, her heart swelling.

“My lady,” he breathed against her lips. “My ladylove.”

~~~~

Somehow she knew he’d show up tonight, even after today. Nathalie had been waiting by the time they had gotten to the bakery and had whisked Adrien away with barely a word. She had expressed that his father was concerned, when he had heard of the akuma attack on the museum where their class trip had been, though, as the car door was closing behind Adrien.

She was sitting on the railing of her balcony when he alighted next to her with barely a thump. “Princess.”

“Kitty,” she greeted easily. It was amazing how much smoother the words came to her, even knowing who it was under the mask. “What brings you out on the rooftops tonight?”

His laugh was breathy and then his fingers were threaded in her hair, tipping her face up. “You said I could always come to your balcony.”

She covered his hand with her own. “I suppose I did. Do you want to come inside for a bit? My parents are already asleep.”

He hopped down off the rail and offered her a hand to swing her legs back over and onto the balcony. “I’d like that, ladylove.”

Marinette blushed a little at the easy way the endearment rolled off his tongue. “You can transform back if you like. I’ll bring up something from the kitchen. I have some cheese danishes for Plagg too.”

He chuckled and let go of her hand to open the trapdoor for her. “You know the way to his heart; through his stomach.”

“So Papa always says.” Marinette giggled, dropping down onto her loft. “Stay here and I’ll be right back with snacks, okay?”

“Okay.” His voice, soft as a whisper, followed her down the stairs.

She trotted back up the stairs with a tray of treats from the bakery and two mugs of tea to find Adrien sitting nervously on the edge of her chaise lounge. Cupped in his hands was Plagg, already exchanging greetings with Tikki. Marinette smiled and set the tray down, pulling out two on her never used thimbles and tipping a bit of tea into both for the kwami’s. Half a sugar cube went into Tikki’s and she glanced inquiringly at Plagg. “Tea?”

He accepted the thimble and waved off any sugar. more than half a cheese danish stuffed in his mouth. “You picked a good one, Sugar Cube.”

Marinette eeped and struggled to not drop the sugar bowl, red climbing her cheeks again.

Adrien chuckled low in his throat and something in her belly turned over at the sound.

Marinette looked up at him, fighting a blush. It was still so strange to her that the boy she liked was her dear partner. It took some wrapping her head around, to be honest.

“So, why Adrien?” He asked suddenly, distracting her from Plagg’s knowing smirk.

“What do you mean?” Marinette set her tea down, trying to still the trembling of her fingers.

“How did the boy you barely spoke to in class steal your heart away from the superhero you fought beside daily?” He asked, green eyes earnest.

Marinette bit her lip. “You’ll probably laugh.”

He gave her a heart-melting grin. “Promise I won’t.”

“When you gave me your umbrella.”

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “My umbrella?”

“It was right after our first battle. And I know I looked confident, but the whole time I was secretly terrified. That I wouldn’t be good enough. That I would do something wrong. That I’d make a mistake, like letting the akuma escape, and cause even more trouble. And then you just…gave me your umbrella when I forgot mine. You had no reason to be nice to me when I was giving you the cold shoulder, but that act of kindness…I needed it right then. A lot. You gave me the strength to keep going.” She looked down.

“Then giving you my umbrella was the best choice I ever made.” Adrien reached out and cupped her cheek. “Both for Paris and for me… and now us.”

Marinette managed a breathy giggle. “Sappy kitty.”

“Only for you.” he corrected and pulled her into a hug.

Marinette went willingly, snugging her arms around his waist. She felt his lips press against the crown of her head.

“When this is all over, and Hawkmoth is no longer a threat— I don’t care what Father thinks, I’m taking you out like you deserve. No more hiding.” he tightened his arms.

“I— I think I’d like that, Hēi māo.”

“You just called me…”

“Black cat in Mandarin. I started studying it with Mama when Uncle Cheng left, I wanted to be able to at least greet him properly next time he’s in Paris.”

Adrien chuckled and then to her surprise, began to purr softly. “I like it, even if it is a little obvious if you know Chinese.”

“No worries, it’s just for us.” She tucked her head against his shoulder, letting the vibration of his purr wash over her like a soothing tide.

.~~~~

Arthur gritted his teeth to keep a thin whine of pain from escaping, and dug in his suitcase for his prescriptions. Ever since the attack, his shoulder had been aching, but he’d gotten adept at ignoring it. With the removal of his arm tonight, it had gone on to a full fledged throb. Fingers that were no longer there tingled and his whole missing arm seemed to be nothing but a source of mind-numbing pain. He finally got the baggie out and fished one of the bottles out of it. Bracing the bottle between his knees, he opened it. He dry-swallowed two on the spot. He debated one of the muscle relaxers but decided against it. It would leave him groggy in the morning and both Vivi and Lewis would know what had happened. They’d demand to know why he hadn’t woken them.

A little shaky, he put the bottle away and got a cup of water to wash away the bitter taste the pills had left on his tongue. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep it from them, it was just that they had both been so worn out by the Akuma fight and everything else. Lewis had retreated to his locket to rest the moment they had gotten in the door of the room, and Vivi had barely made it from the shower to the bed before she was passed out, sprawled on top of the duvet. They needed rest, and certainly didn’t need to short themselves sleep just because his missing limb decided now would be a good time to give him hell.

Sighing, he went out to the balcony, where his restless pacing couldn’t disturb Vivi. Better he be the only one short of sleep. The wind had picked up and he shivered. It only made the empty spot at his left side hurt more. Sighing, he went back in for the jacket he’d been wearing today. He slung it over his shoulders, tucking the empty sleeve into the opposite pocket to keep it close around him.

He leaned against the railing and stared out at the lights of the city. Unlike Tempo, where the whole town was quiet by ten at night, Paris did not sleep. It was beautiful here, and peaceful… sans the Akuma attacks.

Something dark crossed between him and the lights of a building and Arthur tensed, until he realized the lanky shape was a familiar one. He lifted his hand in greeting. Chat changed direction between one leap and the next, alighting on the balcony railing with a quiet thump.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. “What are you doing out and about, kid? It’s late.”

Chat dropped down to sit on the rail. “Patrol. It’s my night. We do alternating nights, except on weekends, so we can both get a little sleep.” He laughed a little. “Also, I’m way too wired to even try to sleep.”

Shaking his head, Arthur laughed. “High on love?”

“Something like that.” Chat’s eyes were sparkling and his cheeks flushed pink. “I— I’ve been hoping since we met that my lady would… would—” his voice trailed off and he could only gesticulate helplessly.

A wry smile curled up the corner of Arthur’s mouth. “See how much you loved her?”

“Yes!”

Arthur chuckled softly. “I know the feeling.” He glanced back to make sure he hadn’t woken Vivi. Wincing at another dull throb, Arthur rubbed his shoulder above the anchoring port. It was chilly out here and the metal transferred the cold all too easily.

Chat frowned. “Does it hurt because of the fight today?”

“Kinda,” Arthur admitted. “It’s called phantom limb. The body remembers that it’s supposed to be there, and sends confused pain signals from the nerves that aren’t there anymore. A doctor could explain it better, but you get the basic idea.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “It still flares up sometimes. And frankly, getting thrown into a display case didn’t help matters.” His fingers were cold and he shoved them in his pocket to warm them. Something cold and metal shifted against his palm. Huh, had he stuck a part or tool in there without thinking about it?

He pulled it out. It was a simple circular brooch, like a badge, brown with two jagged black streaks bordering a white stripe. “What? Where did this come from?”

Light flared, and Arthur yelped, instinctively flinching away. Something small, brown, and hyper darted right in front of his face. Arthur stumbled backward, his lower back slamming into the railing. Chat caught his arm to keep him from pitching backwards.

Arthur clutched Chat’s arm, breathing hard. There was a high-pitched squeaking in his ears and it took a long time to realize that it was words. “Hi-hi-hi! Wow, it’s been forever since I was out! Are you my new bearer? You’re a lot taller than the last one… and with less limbs!”

Light flared around Chat and a black dart shot away from him to pounce on the hyper brown thing still circling Arthur at the speed of light. Arthur shared a baffled look with a suddenly de-transformed Adrien. “What the—?”

“Plagg—” Adrien’s voice was a little breathless with shock.

Plagg was sitting on the furiously squeaking brown thing, which at least kept it still long enough for Arthur to realize that it was a kwami too, albeit a different animal-type than Plagg and Tikki. Plagg harrumphed. “What? It’s not like he doesn’t know.” The black Kwami smacked the back of the brown one’s head. “Oi, you! Can you stop for all of four seconds, idiot? You’re freaking out your new bearer.“

“Bearer—?” Arthur and Adrien asked in eerie synchronization.

Arthur carefully backed away. “I hope you’re not talking about me. I don’t need a hyper squeaky toy or whatever he is. Can’t you take him?”

“I ain’t sharing housespace with him.” Plagg snorted disdainfully. “I don’t share.”

“Anything,” Adrien agreed. “But who…”

Plagg ignored the struggles of his new seating arrangement. “This is Zippi. Jeeze. Last I heard— didn’t your miraculous disappear during the fall of the Roman empire? Why can’t it have stayed vanished?”

“Zikikii,” The new kwami stuck out his tongue at Plagg. “And don’t try to pin that on me. We all heard about Atlantis.”

“Zippi, here—” Plagg gritted, “Is the kwami of innovation, like Tikki is creation and I’m destruction. Last time he had a bearer was during the heyday of the Roman Empire.”

“Arcturius.” Zippi chirped. “He was so clever.”

“And then the empire fell and his miraculous was lost in the fighting. Even the guardians couldn’t find it.” Plagg explained, looking disgustedly down on the kwami he was sitting on. “You coulda stayed lost, honestly.”

“My bearer hid my miraculous before— well, before.” Zippi grabbed hold of Plagg’s swishing tail and yanked hard. The cat kwami screeched and darted away from the other. “And don’t you go blaming me for that. It really wasn’t my fault.”

“Right,” Plagg drawled sarcastically, holding his abused tail and glaring. “I believe that.”.

“Like I believe Atlantis wasn’t your fault?” Zippi lifted up and hovered near Arthur’s face.

Arthur regarded the kwami warily, edging toward the doors leading to the room. This close, he looked a little like a chipmunk, brown with white limned in black around oversized eyes that were never still, darting around like he was watching for danger. His back bore the same marking, in duplicate, as the brooch in Arthur’s too-tightly clenched fist, twin streaks of white, bordered by jagged streaks of black.

“It wasn’t!” Plagg protested. “Mostly.” At Zippi’s disbelieving look, he shook himself. “Okay, look— so maybe I went a little overboard with Atlantis but I didn’t end an empire.“

“Um, isn’t that exactly what you did with Atlantis?” Zippi inquired archly.

Plagg darted over to perch in Adrien’s hair, glaring venomously at the other kwami. "It was an island!” he retorted. "Not an empire spanning continents!”

"An island Empire!” Zippi retorted smugly, folding his tiny arms across his chest. “Same difference.”

“I had way too much cheese— that might have been a little fermented. It wasn’t really my fault.”

“I know several kwami that say otherwise.”

“I am not debating semantics with you, you hyper little rat!”

“Ooh, big words from you. Do you even know what they mean?”

Plagg screeched and launched himself at Zippi, who darted behind Arthur for the half-open door of the room.

“Hey!” Arthur whirled, stuffing the brooch back in his pocket to reach after the little renegade. “Get back here! You’ll wake up Vivi!”.

“Plagg!” Adrien yelped, leaping after his kwami.

It was too late, Zippi was leading an infuriated Plagg on a merry chase around the room, careening from wall to wall like a demented rubber ball and laughing merrily. “Too slow!”

Vivi sat up abruptly, one hand darting out to snag Zippi out of the air. Her other hand came up in time to seize Plagg before he could pounce on the trapped kwami. Her eyes were barely open, but she still managed to fix both kwami with a glare. “Sleepy time is quiet time,” she grumbled.

“He started—”

“Stupid litt—”

She brought both kwami closer to her face. “Quiet time,” she repeated.

Both of them quieted at once, wide eyes fixed on her face.

Adrien blinked. “Can she teach me how to do that?” he asked Arthur, voice filled with awe.

Arthur offered a half-smile. “I dunno. I’ve never asked.”

VIvi opened one eye a little further to peer at her husband and the boy next to him. “Explain. My brain isn’t awake yet, so small words, please.”

Arthur huffed a breath of laughter. “Got me. I don’t know what’s happening either.”

Adrien shook his head. “I— I’m not sure either. Plagg, you said he’s a kwami too?”

Plagg tore his eyes away from Vivi’s face to glare at the kwami in her other hand. “Yes, though if you ask me his miraculous could have stayed lost!”

Vivi’s attention snapped back to Plagg, who quailed suddenly, shrinking down into her grasp. “You, talk.”

“You can’t make me.” Plagg did not sound very certain of that.

“I said, talk.” Her voice was so mild it was scary.

Squeaking softly, Plagg surrendered. “His name is Zippi—”

“Zikikii!” protested the other.

“Zippi. His miraculous has been lost since the fall of the Roman empire, where it coulda stayed if you ask me— and probably anyone else who knows him. But no, it had to go and be found and the moron decided he—” He waved a tiny paw at Arthur. “Is now his new bearer. He’s more stubborn than Tikki so you’ll never talk him out of it, either. He won’t change his mind.”

“At least I have a mind to not change,” Zippi retorted.

Vivi’s sleepy gaze snapped to Zippi, who went quiet at once. “That true?”

“Mostly, if you take into account Plagg’s a know-it-all with cheese for brains,”

“Also true,” Adrien snorted, ignoring the betrayed look of his kwami.

“I need caffeine to deal with this,” Vivi groaned. “Lots of it. Arthur—”

“I can get it,” Adrien interrupted, “And it will shut Plagg up for a while— before he really gets started complaining.”

“Hey!”

Vivi considered for a second. “Deal.” She released Plagg. “I’ll get what I can out of our new friend while you do. But I’ll want to get some of the story out of him—” her blue-painted nail rose to point at the black kwami, now hovering near Adrien. “When you get back.”

“Plagg, claws out!” Adrien called with no little relief. As soon as he was transformed, he fled over the railing into the night.

“I didn’t even get a chance to tell him what I wanted.” Vivi grumbled, propping herself against the headboard.

“You scared him, Vi.” Arthur settled in a chair some distance from the bed, his wary eyes on the brown kwami caught in her hand. “I don’t think he’s ever been a recipient of a patented Vivi glare.”

The look she shot him was not quite said glare considering the soft curve of her lips. “That’s enough outta you.” Her attention turned back toward the kwami caged in her fingers. “Okay, now that Plagg isn’t here to bait you, a straight answer would be nice.”

“Most of what he said was— fairly true—” The little kwami winced. “The last time I had a bearer was well— kinda the end of an era. It was in Rome and my bearer was an inventor and a good one; he was a special rank in the legions. But there were tribes outside of the Empire that started invading and the legions began to suffer defeat after defeat. The Legatus of my bearer’s legion had sent troops out to scout an opposing force, and he was with them because there were rumors that the Goths had invented a new kind of weapon, and he was under orders to capture it and bring it back to duplicate and improve. It was a trap. He was part of a group of centurions that got cut off. He— umm— he took a wound. He knew— knew he couldn’t escape, not even with me lending him strength, so he hid my miraculous. He told me he planned on taking as many of them with him as he could— before— before he took my miraculous off, so I don’t know what happened after that, but I can guess.

"I was too weak to contact the other kwami and— well—” A tiny paw lifted to touch his chest. “I hurt, and all I wanted was to rest. To sleep and forget the pain. I don’t remember when my miraculous was found but it was in the museum for a very long time. And then you—” Bright blue eyes darted to Arthur. “Touched my miraculous and I woke up.”

Vivi’s expression softened, familiar sadness welling in her gaze. Almost unconsciously, she began stroking Zippi’s head with a gentle fingertip. “Okay, I get that. But what makes you so certain that you want Arthur as your bearer? You just woke up. Who’s to say there isn’t someone out there better suited to you?” She smiled fondly at Arthur. “Not that I’m putting you down, love—”

Arthur returned the smile, picking up his arm from the table and settling it in his lap. “I know.” He opened a panel and began a careful check over of the internal mechanisms. The familiar actions grounded him and let him focus.

Zippi, however, had lost all interest in Vivi’s questions, his bright eyes fastened on the arm Arthur was tinkering with. “Ohhh—” He slipped easily out of Vivi’s loosened hold and darted over.

Arthur had to control an instinctive flinch when tiny paws patted the metal casing softly. “You made this— I can feel all of you that you put into it. You were meant to be my bearer.” He beamed up at Arthur. “If Plagg is active that means Tikki is too. She exudes luck. Maybe it was her luck that led you to my miraculous!”

“If being thrown into a display case counts as luck,” Arthur mumbled, watching how delicately those tiny paws traced over the lines of his arm, like it was something precious.

Zippi hummed softly, a pleased sound. He looked up with a wide smile. “If it led us together, of course it was luck!”

“If anything involving that hyper pain can be called luck,” groused Plagg’s voice from near the hotel room door that he was struggling to unlock. “Can I get a hand here before I cataclysm this stupid door?”

“No cataclysms!” Adrien’s voice came muffled through the door.

Arthur rose from his seat, carefully setting his arm aside, and opened the door.

Adrien was holding a takeout tray with four cups and a paper bag. He shrugged sheepishly. “I came up the elevator. I didn’t want to spill.”

“Coffee!” Vivi cheered. “Gimme, gimme!”

“I didn’t know what you wanted except not decaf so I got a café au lait and an espresso, as well as two regular. I also asked for more milk and some sugar since I see people drinking it that way in some American movies.” Adrien handed the tray to Arthur and scratched the back of his neck.

Arthur chuckled. “I’ll take the espresso. Poor Vivi will have to make do with milk. You forgot we’re in France, love.” He directed the last at Vivi as he set the tray on the nightstand.

She puffed her cheeks out in a pout. “I miss my flavored creamer already.”

Arien was looking around curiously. “Umm— where’s Lewis? I brought enough for him too.”

Arthur stifled a snort of laughter. “Dead to the world.”

“Artie, that was awful!” Vivi laughed and pulled the neck of her sleep shirt out to show the golden locket resting against her breastbone. “Lew doesn’t ‘sleep,’ but when he wears himself out, he rests inside here to recover. It works best if one of us is wearing it at the time.”

He looked a little dumbfounded, but bucked up and nodded.

Arthur returned to his chair. Zippi had not abandoned his prosthetic arm, still running tiny paws over it. If he was a cat, he’d be purring. Arthur eyed him sideways but left the arm and it’s fascinated attendant alone.

Vivi finished stirring milk and sugar into her coffee and glanced at where Plagg hovered near Adrien. “Alright, I got Zippi’s input, let’s hear yours.”

“I don’t got—” Plagg started indignantly.

“Plagg—” Vivi said, too sweetly.

Plagg swallowed audibly. “Wha— what is it you want to know?”

“Let’s start with Fu not knowing about Zippi. He’s the self-styled Guardian of the Miraculous. Wouldn’t he have known if there were other Miraculous out there?”

Plagg hemmed and hawed for a moment before answering. “Well, see… Fu was a member of the Guardian order, but he didn’t complete all his training before… Well, before the temple was destroyed and the rest of the Guardians— died. So he may not have known about the Lost Miraculous.”

“I can practically hear the capital letters. Is Zippi’s the only one or are there more?”

Plagg lowered his head and grumbled. “More. Some were… misplaced… before there was a Guardian Order, while some have been lost more recently. Like the Peacock and the Butterfly. Though it’s obvious enough the Butterfly is here in Paris, since Hawkmoth’s the one controlling it.”

“ — That’s interesting.” Vivi hummed speculatively. “Did he know about them being lost?”

Plagg nodded. “The Peacock and the Butterfly vanished shortly before the temple fell. Most of the Kwami were not active at the time, so we can’t tell you what happened.”

Tapping a finger against her chin, Vivi hummed. “I think we should talk to Fu about this.”

“Now?” Adrien asked. “It’s the middle of the night. I have school in the morning and I’m pretty sure he’s asleep by now.”

Vivi shook her head, watching Arthur lean away from the Kwami that hovered near his shoulder. “Tomorrow is good enough. If you would, Adrien, have Marinette call him in the morning and let him know we’re coming.”

“Can it wait until class lets out? I’m pretty sure we should both be there for this, too.”

Vivi pursed her lips. “Yeah, I can understand that.” She ran a finger gently over the locket at her throat. “Fine. We’ll all go after school.”

Arthur was still peering sideways at Zippi. His lips were pressed together. “While they’re in class, Vi, I want to head back to the museum. Maybe we can find out something to take back to Fu.”

Vivi snapped her gaze to Arthur. “Artie?”

Arthur gave her an uncomfortable shrug. “He’s been asleep a long time. Maybe there’s a clue about what happened. Where his miraculous was. Something…” His words broke off into a painful sounding yawn. “Dam— darn it!” He amended hastily.

Peering up at him knowingly, Vivi pointed out, “Your pupils are dilated. Your shoulder was bugging you, huh? You take both your meds or just the painkiller?”

Arthur glanced away. “Just the painkiller. I hate how groggy the muscle relaxers make me.”

“I’m telling Lewis on you. You know you are supposed to take both of them or the pain comes right back because your shoulders are tense because of the port. The doctor explained it to all three of us after the last time you did a stupid.”

Arthur flinched a little, nearly bumping into Zippi, who was hovering a little too close for comfort. “Vi, c'mon—”

“Nope.” Vivi set her coffee aside and rose from the bed. “You are taking the rest of your meds and going to bed before you fall over.” She pointed a stern finger in his face.

Arthur gave her a reluctant nod before glancing over at Adrien. “See, if I knew how she did it, I wouldn’t get caught in it.” Another jaw-cracking yawn took him by surprise.

Vivi poked him in the side. “Enough of that. You march and get your meds. Adrien, you should sleep too. There’s a chaise you can nap on.” She pointed.

Adrien shook his head. “I have to be home before Nathalie comes to wake me up for school. Thanks though. I’ll text Marinette to call Master Fu and go to bed. Promise.”

“Good.” Vivi pursed her lips. “I know you have the superhero thing going, but you’re still young. You need your sleep.”

He blushed a little under her scrutiny and nodded. “I’ll go right to bed after I text her, promise.”

Vivi reached out and ruffled his hair gently. “Good boy.”

Arthur, rummaging in his bag for his medicine, couldn’t help but notice the way Adrien almost instinctively leaned into her touch. Poor kid.

With one last fleeting smile, Adrien transformed and vanished into the night.

Arthur suffered through Vivi chivying him into taking his other dose and into the king-sized bed. She snuggled into his left side, fingers rubbing a soothing pattern over the scarred flesh of his shoulder. Zippi perched on the headboard, quiet and surprisingly still.

It didn’t take long for the medicine and Vivi’s gentle ministrations to put him down for the count. Vivi tucked herself more comfortably against him, cheek resting on his chest and letting the sound of his heartbeat lull her. Sleepily, she watched Zippi cautiously edge down until he was tucked in the crook of Arthur’s neck. He hummed contentedly and settled in, asleep almost instantly.

Vivi carried the thought that Arthur wasn’t getting rid of the little kwami easily— if at all— into slumber with her.

~~~~~

Surprisingly, Marinette was awake before her alarm went off. It was a rare occurrence these days. She smiled to see several notifications from Adrien on her phone, at least until she read the texts he’d sent her last night and found herself gaping at the screen.

Blinking, she rushed to wake Tikki, still curled up in the pillows. “Tikki! Tikki, wake up!”

Startled, Tikki shot up. “Akuma?”

Marinette only held her phone up so Tikki could read the messages on the screen. “Oh! Oh my—!” The little red and black Kwami spun in the air with a delighted squeal of laughter. She rushed over to give Marinette the best kind of hug she could manage, snuggling against her cheek. “One of the lost ones has been found! I’m so happy! We haven’t heard from Zikikii in so very long!”

Marinette held Tikki close to her cheek, please to see her so happy. “Adrien called him Zippi. Who is he, though?”

“Plagg gave him that nickname when they first met. Said he couldn’t keep track of him zipping all over the place like that. It stuck and there’s not that many of us that actually remember his real one anymore. He complains about it, but answers to it anyway.” Tikki pulled away to dance happily in the air. “He’s the Kwami of innovation. He’s been missing for a very long time. I don’t think Master Fu even knew about the ones we call the Lost Miraculous, well— except the two that were lost right before the temple fell.” She whirled around, still gleeful. “We should tell him. Maybe he’ll feel better.”

“I’m going to call him, but it will have to wait to go see him until after—”

“Marinette, honey, did you hear your alarm?” Sabine’s voice called up. “You don’t want to be late for school today, not after yesterday.”

“Yes, Mama,” Marinette sighed. “I’m awake.” She got up from the bed and stumbled down the steps. “I’ll call Master Fu as soon as I’m dressed.” she assured Tikki.

“I can’t wait to see Zippi again!” Tikki cheered. “He’s the only one who can drive Plagg insane. Well, more insane.”

Marinette giggled. “Tikki!”

She rushed through getting ready, same as always. It was habit by now. Humming, she settled down on her chaise to make sure she had her schoolwork before picking up her phone to dial Master Fu. He answered on the second ring. Marinette winced to hear his voice sound so very tired.

“Master Fu. Something unusual happened last night!” she blurted.

“Marinette? What is it?”

“So Chat was out on patrol last night and stopped by the hotel. He was talking to Arthur, when there was a flash of light and well, apparently there was a Lost Miraculous in the museum.”

“Wait. Please start at the beginning.”

“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know all the details. But we’re all of us coming over after school, and you can get everything then.”

Fu sighed heavily. “I— I will await you this afternoon, then.”

Marinette disconnected the call. “That wasn’t a very thorough explanation,” Tikki said reprovingly.

“I don’t have enough details and I’d rather not tell him something I don’t know.” Marinette opened her purse for Tikki. “Better if he gets the whole story from the ones who were there. But I’m going to have to give Adrien his phone number for the next time something like this comes up.”

“More Lost Miraculous showing up?” Tikki asked with a giggle as she dived into the purse.

“Oh, wow no, that would be a little much. Just in case there is something he needs to tell Master Fu.” Marinette closed the catch and trotted down the stairs to greet her mother with a kiss on the cheek, and grab a croissant as she sailed out the door.

For once, she got to school before Alya, Nino or Adrien. She ate her croissant sitting on the stairs, contemplating what she was going to tell Alya, who was liable to be full of questions after the short text she had sent her last night, giving her the barest basics of the story she and Adrien had worked out.

Alya wasn’t likely to buy that she had just given up entirely on Adrien, having been witness to just how deep her crush ran, so she had to come up with something good.

She was still thinking over her options when she saw Alya headed up the street, her hand tucked in Nino’s. Alya understood being in love, after all.

It was then that she got a wicked, terrible idea. Her lips curved up into a smile. Adrien would hate it, but the irony of it was irresistible.

Marinette hastily wiped the smile off her face when Ayla looked up and saw her. Alya hurried her pace, waving with her free hand as she tugged Nino along after her. “Girl, you’re early! Is the world ending?”

“Maybe only a little.” She resisted the urge to smile as she stood up, brushing crumbs off her pants.

“Uh-oh, so what happened?” Ayla leaned close.

“It’s nothing much, Alya,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Just a lot of things happened yesterday.” Not even a lie.

Alya was about to grill her more when a familiar black car pulled up to the curb. Adrien hopped out and waved at them. Marinette was surprised he didn’t look more tired, but his grin was as sunny as ever.

Alya and Nino returned his wave easily, and Marinette gave a short wriggle of her fingers before tucking her hand back down behind her leg. As she had meant for her to, Alya noticed immediately.

“Hey, guys!” Adrien greeted, joining them on the stairs. His gaze was searching and she offered him a small smile.

“Hello Adrien,” she returned the greeting quietly.

Ayla’s hazel eyes fastened on her, one brow climbing up.

Marinette looked away, winking at her kitty with the eye Alya couldn’t see with her face partially turned away. His eyebrows climbed up, but he adapted. “Hey, Nino— did you finish the physics worksheet? What did you get for the the fourth problem?”

Marinette kept quiet through most of the ensuing conversation, only answering if a question was directed at her. She knew her lack of stuttering and fumbling for words around Adrien were being carefully catalogued by Alya.

Finally it was clear Alya had just had enough and was going to go batty if she didn’t get some answers. She grabbed Marinette’s arm and smiled sweetly at the boys. “See you in class! Marinette and I need to go powder our noses first.” She hauled Marinette off before Nino could do more than blink numbly.

Alya pulled her into the restroom and after carefully making sure they were unobserved, turned on Marinette.

"So?” Alya asked eagerly.

“So what?” Marinette asked, though she had a feeling she knew exactly what.

“So you end up trapped with Adrien for hours hiding from Grand Master!” She waved her phone around to illustrate her point. “And suddenly I notice you’re a lot less nervous about talking to him. You managed complete sentences, girl, for you that’s a record! Spill it, girl!”

“It’s not what you think.” Marinette protested half-heartedly.

“Isn’t it?” Alya pressed, grinning. “C’mon, Marinette, this is me. I want deets!”

“It really isn’t. Adrien and I are friends. Hopefully— good friends, but that’s it.” She lowered her head and looked away, hoping Alya was buying it, “There’s someone else he likes. He told me so. Not Chloe!” She reassured quickly when Alya opened her mouth. “And I’m not telling you who, that’s private.”

“I’m so sorry, Marinette.” Alya moved to pull her into a consoling hug.

But Marinette held up her hand and shook her head. “It’s bittersweet, but I’m glad he’s able to— to see me as a friend. Besides.” Marinette twiddled her fingers, looking down and hoping that the flush from lying could be mistaken for a nervous blush. “I…may have found someone else.”

“Like that? Just like that?” Alya asked in clear disbelief. “Girl, are you kidding me?”

“It’s still a— a maybe. Neither of us want to rush into things.” She puffed her cheeks, and looked down at her hands to hide her eyes. “I ran into him after the thing with Adrien. He— he’d also tried to ask his crush out and— and got rejected.” She manufactured a wobbly smile by thinking about how they had hurt each other, not knowing the truth. “Well, we kinda bonded over that and found out we sort of just clicked. I don’t know if we’re more than friends, but it was really nice, being able to talk to him.” That was the honest truth of the matter.

“That seems like an awfully big coincidence. You sure this guy isn’t a creeper?” Alya clearly wanted to be happy for her friend, but needed to make sure she was safe first. It warmed Marinette to know.

“I promise his reputation is impeccable.” She couldn’t resist an impish sort of smile. “In fact you’ve even met him, and I promise you’d approve of him.”

“So do I get to meet him again?” Alya wanted to trust Marinette, but wouldn’t rest easy until she’d met this guy in person. Marinette could see her mentally fretting.

“I think he wants to keep it on the downlow, but I’ll ask him, okay?” Marinette promised.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Okay, a hint— let me see.” Marinette assumed a thinking pose. “He has blond hair and green eyes, like Adrien, but he prefers black clothing. That’s all you get.”

Alya began scrolling through her phone, trying to find someone who matched that description. Marinette hid a grin behind her hand. Operation Marichat was a go.

#miraculous ladybug #mystery skulls animated #an au/crossover fic #adrein agreste #marinette dupain cheng #vivi yukino #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #yeah #there's an original kwami now #*hides under a rock*

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mikauzoran · 5 years ago

Text

Adrienette Drabble: Fight

“Thank you for letting me come so late,” Adrien sighed, slumping over the balcony railing.

“It’s not a problem,” Marinette assured, going back to where she had left her sketchbook open on the little wooden table.

“I just couldn’t go home with my head in a mess like this,” he muttered, gazing down at the street and the Seine below.

Marinette hesitated before deciding to ask, “…Do you want to talk about it? You were a little vague on the phone. I’m happy to listen, if you think it will help.”

He was quiet for a long while. Abruptly, he straightened and turned to face her, leaning back with one foot propped up against the railing. “So…my girlfriend and I had a fight. She broke up with me.”

“Oh,” Marinette replied softly, the syllable coated with pity and remorse that she only felt because he looked sad about it. “I’m sorry…. Which girlfriend was this one? Marianne?”

Adrien smacked himself in the face. “Marianne,” he hissed. “That was it. Her name was Marianne.”

Marinette arched a concerned eyebrow. “Adrien? Everything okay?”

He looked at her pitifully. “That was the fight. I called her the wrong name.”

She didn’t need to know that he had called her “Marinette”.

Marinette’s eyes widened. She winced. “Oh. Yeah. That’s…not a good thing.”

“She thought I was cheating on her, so I explained that I’d had five other girlfriends in the past two weeks and that they were all starting to blend together.” Adrien grimaced as he heard the words come out of his mouth a second time. “She only got more upset upon learning that fact, and I think I’m starting to understand why. …Shoot. I am primordial slime.”

Marinette pursed her lips. “I know it wasn’t on purpose, but…I would be really upset if some guy did that to me.”

Adrien snorted. “I would need a lawyer to get me off on assault charges if some guy did that to you.” His expression sobered. “So why do I think it’s okay for me to act like this?”

“You don’t mean any harm,” Marinette tried to comfort him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not causing any,” Adrien sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I mean, I did tell her up front that I wasn’t interested in a serious relationship, but…tonight is a new personal low for me.”

“Maybe you should stop,” Marinette proposed. “You know, I didn’t exactly mean for you to change girlfriends like you do your socks when I suggested you date around.”

Adrien winced. “I am spreading myself a little thin, aren’t I?”

Marinette frowned sympathetically but did not verbally reply.

Adrien pursed his lips. “…Marinette, am I trashy?”

She looked back down at her notebook and shrugged, doing her best to be a good friend and hide her own personal feelings. “Make it about him, not yourself.”

“How many girls have you kissed in the past month?” She attempted to say it in an unconcerned, nonchalant manner.

He looked at her in terror, as if she had just pulled a hatchet on him. He gulped, bright red lighting up his cheeks. “That’s…not something I want you to know.”

“My next question was going to be, ‘How does that number make you feel?’, but it sounds like you already have your answer, Adrien,” she replied softly, nonjudgmentally down at her sketchbook.

“Maybe I need to slow down a bit,” Adrien concluded. “Maybe I’ll stay single for the rest of this week…and use that time to come up with a nickname I can call all of them to avoid further name confusion in the future.”

Marinette finally looked up to glare at him. “Seriously? You’re going to stop treating them like individuals and just call them all the same thing?”

“I only said one of those things,” Adrien corrected.

She rolled her eyes and huffed, “The one is the same as the other.”

“Is not,” he snorted back. “Do you have any better suggestions for keeping them straight?”

“Stay with the same woman for more than a few days,” she remarked dryly.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I would have if any of the relationships had shown promise.”

“Fine. Write their names on your hand or something,” she retorted in exasperation. “Or maybe date someone who wants to do more than just suck off your face, get in your pants, and get their hands on your wallet.”

“…Ouch,” Adrien responded flatly.

“You know, when I told you to date other people, I expected you to find some nice girl to date for a month or two who I wouldn’t really care for but wouldn’t be able to find justification to hate. I didn’t expect this revolving door of fickle, vapid women and poor life choices. Your taste in women is abysmal, Adrien Agreste,” she snapped, gripping her pencil tightly in her fist.

He laughed caustically. “Marinette, I haven’t been interested in any of those girls in the slightest.”

“Then why did you date them?!” Marinette shouted, her voice cracking as she finally lost her temper.

“Because they weren’t repulsive!” He matched her volume and pitch. “There’s only one girl I’m interested in, but you told me to date other girls, and I did because I want to get over her more than anything! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to pine after someone with everything you are? Do you have any conception of the agony of being by someone’s side without any hope of them ever turning to look at you the way you look at them? I am insanely in love with her. Literally, I probably need to talk to someone about this because my level of obsession is scary unhealthy, Marinette. I would die for her. Literally take an akuma attack that would wipe me out of existence. I am desperate to get out of the gaping chasm I’ve fallen into, and if I have to date a thousand other girls to stop feeling this way, I will do it.”

They stared at one another for a full minute, both of their chests heaving, their eyes wide in horror.

Adrien let out a sibilant curse as he sank onto the crate across the table from Marinette. He buried his face in his hands and cursed again. “Can we please pretend I never said any of that? Is there any way to go back and unsay that? Because you are pretty much the last person on the face of this earth that I ever wanted to find out that I was crazy.”

Marinette got up and went to him, prying his hands from his face and forcing him to look at her. “Hey,” she cooed, cupping his cheek. “You’re okay. You’re not crazy, Adrien.” She gently stroked his cheekbone with her thumb, and he leaned into her touch.

“I feel like I’m crazy sometimes,” he muttered, taking slow and measured inhales of her faint scent as his eyes went half-lidded.

“Shh. You’re not. I’ve got you, Beau Gosse,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Hang in there. One day there’s going to be a girl who loves you like you deserve, and she won’t hurt you like this….”

He looked up into her deep blue eyes, and, mentally, a wire was tripped. He’d always thought that Marinette was objectively attractive, but, sitting there on her balcony in the moonlight with her hand on his cheek, their faces no more than two hand-spans apart…Marinette was no less radiant than the goddess rosy-fingered Dawn.

Perhaps it was because over the past month and a half he’d been making out often with many different women, but Adrien suddenly had the strong urge to kiss Marinette.

She pulled back, though, before he could follow through, straightening up and retracting her hand from his cheek.

His chest tightened, and he leaned forward, following her retreat like a magnet.

Marinette chuckled quietly, humoring him by reaching out once more to scratch gently behind his ear.

His eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re like a giant cat,” she teased. “Chat Noir likes around the same spot right…here.”

Her fingers found it, and it was everything Adrien could do to keep from purring. Instead his throat produced a half-strangled choke midway between pleasure and horror.

Marinette’s fingers stilled. “You okay?”

He nodded, taking a moment to compose himself. “Y-Yeah. Sorry. Just…I’m feeling really messed up right now, and…” His gaze drifted down to the floor, his own feet, and her house scuffs. “…as you’ve probably noticed from the way I hang off of people and always get in others’ personal space, I’m a really tactile person. I need to be touched, but…I don’t always get that at home, so when someone does show me physical affection…it’s like an overload, and…that’s why it’s so easy to date all those girls I don’t care about and let them hang on me and kiss me. Ever since I realized that I needed to give up on her, I’ve been feeling really…panicked…desperate…. I’ve kind of been throwing myself into these other relationships hoping that something will click and that I’ll wake up one day and suddenly have my heart back in my chest and be able to carry on like a normal person, but…I think I’m only spiraling even further down the drain because…”

He screwed his eyes closed and gulped. “I pretend that they’re her. When they kiss me, I imagine that it’s her lips and her hands and…I know that’s pretty much the direct opposite of what you intended me to do, and I’m sorry. I…”

His voice caught, and he looked up at her with wet eyes. “…but…when you touch me, it’s you. I can’t…imagine her touching me the way that you do because, unlike all those girls I’ve been dating, when you touch me, you don’t want anything from me. You’re not looking to get anything out of me. It’s just about me and what I need, and you have no idea how much you mean to me, how much I appreciate you, Marinette. I couldn’t get through this without you.”

He watched as her eyes widened and a flash of something intense flitted across her face. He couldn’t pin down exactly what it was, but it felt negative.

He was upsetting her with his candid words. He was oversharing.

“Sorry.” He looked away. “I know I’m a little much to take sometimes. I don’t usually do this in front of people. I’m kind of a wreck at the moment, and you feel safe. I feel safe with you. I know that’s a lot to drop on somebody, so I’m going to stop talking now, and if you want me to go, just say so because you don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t…”

He physically clapped a hand over his own mouth to stop the torrent. “Sorry,” he mumbled from behind his fingers.

Suddenly her expression was warm and reassuring. “Shh,” she soothed, pressing a light kiss to his forehead before taking both of his hands in hers. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for, Adrien. You can always come to me. I will always take care of you.”

Adrien’s throat went dry. His face grew hot. Something unnamable welled up in his chest, and all he wanted to do was hold her, bury his face in her neck and hair. He opened his mouth to try to describe what he was feeling, but, before he could find the words, she spoke.

“Come here.” She tugged lightly at his hands, and he got up to follow her over to the deck chair in the corner. “Sit on the edge,” she instructed, and he did so, regretting having to let go of her hands.

He didn’t have long to miss the contact, however, for, as soon as he was seated, she sat down behind him, straddling the chair so that he was between her legs. She wrapped her arms around him and gently eased him back so that he reclined against her, his head resting on her chest.

“Is this okay?” she whispered as she began to stroke his face, comb her fingers through his hair, and rub gently at his scalp, letting her fingernails scrape tantalizingly against his skin. Her lips gently peppered his neck, jaw, face, and ears with butterfly-light kisses.

It was divine torture.

“Please,” he whimpered brokenly, melting into her touch. His eyes slipped closed.

“You really are hurting, aren’t you?” she observed.

He moaned softly, biting his lip to muffle the noise.

His desperation was palpable.

She wanted to ask him if she were special. If anyone else made him feel safe. If there was anyone else he would let himself become this undone in front of.

Somehow, she didn’t think so, and that realization brought both elation and despair. He trusted her enough to dissolve into a puddle of fear and desire and need in her presence. He trusted that she would accept him as he was and still care about him afterwards.

On the other hand, he was able to do this because he didn’t feel the need to impress her. She was not a potential mate in front of whom he needed to remain strong and collected. He didn’t care about preserving his image with her. He didn’t need her to think of him as a provider or protector because it didn’t make a difference to him if she had romantic feelings for him or not.

She was a sanctuary, a trusted confidante. She was not a potential love interest.

Meanwhile, Adrien was struggling not to purr his head off. He was on the brink of giving up when Marinette spoke.

“Is this helping? I have another friend who gets upset sometimes, and head rubs really seem to help him calm down. Is this working for you?”

The best Adrien could do for a response was a sinful, throaty moan of appreciation.

…Which shook Marinette to the core. It was one thing to have Chat Noir purring happily with his head on her thigh. It was another entirely to have the man she was in love with writhing against her in ecstasy.

This had been a bad idea. This was going to keep her up nights: the image of Adrien a needy mess literally in her lap. Hair mussed. Pants visibly tight. Back arching. Head thrown back. Eyes mostly closed in bliss, but, when they did open, pupils blown to the size of macarons.

Marinette wondered what he would say if she tugged him down through the skylight into her bed. Would he protest? He didn’t have a problem making out with women he didn’t have feelings for. Would he draw the line at sleeping with Marinette? Would the threat sex could pose to their friendship be enough to stop him? Was Adrien really in any state to consent? Would he regret it later? Could Marinette really take advantage of him like that?

One look at his face, the tears leaking down his cheeks from all the confusion and pent-up emotion, answered her questions.

“Shh,” she coaxed. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine, Adrien. I’ve got you.”

More than anything, Marinette had grown to love Adrien as a person more than she loved him as a man, and she wanted their friendship to survive her romantic feelings for him. As much as she hated the f word, she really and truly did want to be Adrien’s friend, so she was going to put his needs before her own lust.

“I’ve got you,” Marinette promised. “Always.”

A quarter of an hour later found Adrien feeling boneless and spent but definitely calmer.

He wondered briefly, if Marinette’s fingers touching him only above the neck could cause fireworks like that, what could the rest of her do with the rest of his body?

He stomped on that thought as soon as it came into existence, grinding it to dust with the sole of his mental shoe. It was one thing to get an innocent head rub from Marinette as Chat Noir every once in a while on a bad day. What had just happened was something else. Adrien had crossed a line.

“Better?” Marinette whispered, noting how his breathing had evened out and the tears had stopped.

Adrien had to clear his throat before he could find his voice to confirm, “Better.”

He hastened to add, “Thank-you-I’m-sorry,” in one breath.

Her thumb rubbed away a half-dried tear track. “Adrien…just… It’s okay. You can lean on me when you need to. Maybe tonight was a little intense, but…I want to be there for you. You’re obviously going through something major right now, and I don’t want you falling to pieces on your own because you’re ashamed or embarrassed or think that you’re inconveniencing me. You’re one of my best friends, and I want to help you in any way I can. Maybe I’ll need you to return the favor someday.”

He wanted to say something. He felt like another apology was in order because this went above and beyond the realm of one friend helping another through a series of panic attacks and a quarter-life crisis in general.

He’d gotten off on her relatively innocent ministrations, and she knew it.

He blamed the unresolved tension between himself and his now ex-girlfriend from earlier that night. He blamed the fact that all these girls he was dating and making out with had him on a constant hormonal rollercoaster. He blamed Ladybug and her jet-black pigtails and cyanide blue eyes so much like Marinette’s. He blamed himself for being out of control.

“Sorry,” Adrien repeated. “I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t even put the thought into words. There were a lot of things he hadn’t meant to do. “Sorry,” he whispered, face going cinnamon red. “I’m sorry.”

“Adrien, stop. I’m sorry,” Marinette sighed. “I’m sorry for making you do something you didn’t want to do. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not stopping. I’m sorry for not asking if I should stop. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had something you should be sorry for. I’m sorry,” she emphasized, hoping he’d see how this was her fault and stop blaming himself.

Adrien reached up to cover his face in utter mortification. “Marinette, I’m uncomfortable because I’m afraid I made you uncomfortable and ruined our friendship. I at no time wanted you to stop. I’m sorry, but this was totally consensual on my part…. I am such a cad. I am so sorry.”

“Oh,” Marinette mumbled, feeling slightly dizzy. She swallowed hard and admitted, “I’m not uncomfortable…and I don’t think our friendship is ruined….. This was consensual on my part too.”

“Oh,” Adrien squeaked. “Okay. Uh…well…good. I’m glad that neither of us is uncomfortable and that our friendship is still intact.” He cleared his throat, finally getting ahold of himself. “I don’t think that this should happen again, though. This time was sort of an accident, but I feel like this goes beyond the scope of accepted behavior between friends. I don’t want that kind of relationship with you.”

“O-Of course,” Marinette managed to choke out through gritted teeth. She was infinitely glad that he couldn’t see the expression on her face.

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits,” he continued softly. “I was completely serious a couple weeks ago at the café when I told Alya that you’re the kind of girl someone has to be serious about. If I weren’t me, I’d kill me for tonight.”

Marinette’s resolve to never tell Adrien about Chat Noir solidified.

“If I found out some other guy had used you like this…”

Marinette could feel Adrien bristle, and it made her heart swell. Perhaps she should be concerned instead, but she couldn’t help but swoon when he got violently jealous over her. She adored his protective streak. It gave her hope.

“Who’s to say that I’m not the one using you?” Marinette snickered, mentally turning the tables on him.

Adrien blinked and was about to tell her that that was stupid because he was the one who’d had the mind-blowing orgasm…but he found that he couldn’t say that out loud without dying of humiliation.

The thought, “You can use me any time you want, Princess” also crossed his mind but was quickly ruled out because it would undermine the boundaries he was attempting to set.

Boundaries were a lot harder than Nino made them out to be.

“I guess you could technically use me,” Adrien reasoned. “I just have this sexist idea in my head that men are the ones that typically use women.”

“That’s really ironic considering that women use you all the time,” Marinette hummed softly, the mood shifting back into the realm of the somber.

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, closing his eyes and zeroing in on the sound of her heart. “Ironic.”

It was quiet between them for a measure or two.

Marinette bit her lip. “…About your dating situation.”

Adrien made a soft sound of displeasure.

“Maybe you should stop dating around.”

He hummed thoughtfully, considering the idea.

“…Maybe I should ‘date around’ in the sense that you originally intended me to,” Adrien made a counteroffer. “Or, at least, maybe I should only date one or two girls any given week…and maybe take a few days off between girlfriends…and maybe not make out with so many different people.”

Marinette sighed heavily. “If that’s what you decide you want to do. It’s your life, Adrien.”

“What else would I even do?” Adrien sighed.

“Find someone you could be serious about?” Marinette suggested, knowing it was dumb but saying it anyway.

“I don’t think I’m at that point yet,” Adrien confessed. “You see what a mess I am. Do you think I’m capable of being in a serious relationship right now?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “But maybe find some girls you can be more serious about than the ones you’ve been with the past month and a half. No more hooking up with girls who are merely ‘not repulsive’. You obviously don’t feel right about that kind of arrangement anyway.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he mumbled. “So…no more changing women like I change my socks.”

“Good,” Marinette breathed in relief.

Silence fell once more.

Adrien licked his lips nervously, hesitating before reintroducing the subject. “…You know, I’m still going to need a standard nickname I can call them to avoid any more name mix-ups like tonight.”

Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes. “I believe ‘Sweetheart’ and ‘Babe’ or ‘Baby’ are the standards used by douchebags who can’t be bothered to learn their latest conquest’s name.”

“You’re not being fair,” Adrien grumbled. “I am a train wreck right now, and that’s not the fault of the girls I’m going to date. I will use their names when I remember, but when I don’t, I should have something to call them so that I don’t hurt their feelings or make them feel like I don’t care about them. I don’t want them to feel like they’re being used to help me get over some other girl.”

“How kind of you to be so considerate of the feelings of the girls you’re using to help you get over some other girl,” Marinette retorted wryly.

“You are the one who suggested this,” Adrien sighed.

“Personal accountability much, Agreste?” she snorted, unimpressed and slightly disenchanted.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

“…Even if this entire thing is twisted, part of me is kind of glad that you are thinking about their feelings to some extent,” Marinette begrudgingly admitted. “…How about ‘Honey’ or ‘Darling’? ‘Dearest’?”

Adrien pursed his lips. “‘Sweetheart’ might work if I say it with the right inflection; otherwise it sounds kind of…I don’t know. Kind of like I’m looking down on them or not taking them seriously. I don’t want to sound dismissive.”

“‘Sweetheart’? Dismissive?” Marinette scoffed skeptically.

“Seriously,” he argued. “What do you think when a guy says, ‘Hey, Sweetheart’ to you?”

Marinette frowned. Guys trying to pick her up off the street had, indeed, called out to her in that manner before. “Okay. Yeah. I see your point. ‘Sweetheart’ can sound kind of sleezy and dismissive.”

“I think ‘Baby’ has the same problem,” Adrien sighed. “And ‘Babe’ is what Alya calls Nino. It would feel incestuous to use her pet name. ‘Honey’ and ‘Darling’ sound too…domestic. Same for ‘Dearest’. ‘My Love’ is misleading. I guess I could come up with something original, but…I don’t know. Pet names usually sound so ridiculous. I want something affectionate but not overly affectionate. Something that feels personal but also generic enough to say in public.”

“Milady,” Marinette whispered.

Adrien gave a start as if he’d been electrocuted. “Wha—Bu—No. Isn’t that—No.—what Chat Noir calls Ladybug?”

Marinette shrugged. “It was an idea. I was trying to think of all the ridiculous things that Chat Noir uses as nicknames that somehow manage to work, but…”

Adrien knew that calling his girlfriends ‘Milady’ would only exacerbate the problem. “Maybe not that one,” he mumbled.

“Okay. How about ‘Princess’?” she suggested tiredly, and he was a little offended that she would even think of offering up his nickname for her to be used on other women. “It’s the perfect nickname. It’s flirty and affectionate while still being respectful. No one could think you were being dismissive if you called them ‘Princess’. That’s what Chat Noir usually calls me, and I’ve always secretly liked it.”

Adrien’s irritation immediately faded and was supplanted by pride and self-satisfaction.

“I don’t think I could call anyone ‘Princess’ with a straight face,” Adrien chuckled. “You are the only one I know who could wear that moniker and do it justice.”

Marinette let out a sharp, panicked bark of laughter at that. She cleared her throat and put on an indignant air. “Charmer.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted, but his chuckle diminished his credibility. “…May I call you ‘Princess’?”

“I don’t see how I can stop you,” Marinette sighed in resignation. “Chat Noir might have a bone to pick with you about it, though. He’s just about as protective of me as you are, and he might take exception to you using his nickname.”

“I’ll fight him for it,” Adrien swore. “…Princess.”

She shivered. It was the same effect Chat Noir had on her multiplied by ten. The breathy way he said it…it was unfair. He was unfair.

It was unfair that while he got to lie practically on top of her languidly, basking in the heady calm of the afterglow, she was still ratcheted up and ready to scream in frustration.

“Maybe you should just call your girlfriends ‘Ma Chère’ and be done with it,” she huffed.

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

It would be better than accidentally calling them “Marinette”.

…Actually…

“Would you want to go to the zoo on Sunday?” Adrien asked before he could completely think things through.

His thought process had gone something like: It would be impossible to accidentally call his girlfriend “Marinette” if he was with Marinette instead of his girlfriend; therefore, he should spend time with Marinette.

She hummed. “I’m not doing anything on Sunday. Have you already asked Nino and Alya?”

He stiffened, wondering if he should back out now before it was too late. “Uh…No.”

“Do you want me to text them?” she offered.

He swallowed hard. “No. I…wasn’t going to invite them.”

She was silent for a moment. “So…you meant…would I want to go to the zoo on Sunday…just the two of us?”

“Yes. That’s…what I meant.” He gulped again. “I mean…you and I have hung out just the two of us before. I was thinking…that could be fun.”

“Adrien, I am not going on a date with you. You are an emotional Hindenburg right now, and you have no idea what you’re asking,” she replied patiently, voice devoid of all emotion.

“I didn’t mean as a date,” he rushed to assure her. “I wasn’t… This has nothing to do with what happened between us earlier. I was just… I’ve been so busy with girlfriends lately, I thought…maybe I should make more time for my friends…you in particular, since the only thing we ever seem to talk about anymore is my relationships. I was thinking…maybe we should go on a-a friend date.”

“A ‘friend date’?” Her brow scrunched as the dreaded f word sullied another word she’d been longing to hear from his lips for four years.

“Yeah,” he replied lamely, sticking to his guns. “A friend date. Just…completely platonic. I mean, I’ll pay for the entrance fee and take you to lunch, but…”

“Adrien?” Marinette sighed.

He gulped a third time. “Yes?” He could tell he was crashing and burning.

She gave up. “Okay.”

“O…kay?” He tried to tilt his head up to get a look at her face, but it was hard at that angle.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “I will go with you on Sunday to the zoo. I will pay for my own ticket and my own lunch. We will not hold hands. You will not try to kiss me. This will be one hundred percent platonic.”

“Of course,” he quietly promised, feeling bad that he’d done something to make her think that laying down these rules was necessary.

“Adrien?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Please don’t drag me into this,” she begged in a tiny, fragile voice. “Please don’t let what happened before give you any ideas. I’m just your friend. I will be there for you during this crisis you’re going through, but I can’t do that as anything more than your friend. Okay?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. “Sorry for pulling you into the mess, Princess.”

“It’s okay,” she insisted in that same small voice. “…I’m just trusting you…what you said about respecting me too much to mess around with me.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

She had no idea how much he respected her. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been his idol almost from the day he’d met her. Kind, courageous, smart, creative, ambitious, and bold…she was everything he aspired to be. She had no way of knowing how much he looked up to her.

Maybe she never would know. After all, he had a funny way of showing it, always taking advantage one way or another.

#Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Mikau's Writings #There's a Daisy

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askmeforafic · 7 years ago

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Cafe Cabana

It started on a sunny day in a small coffee shop in the middle of Miami when Tony took over a table to try and get his life in order after Pepper had left. They had had an argument, he couldn’t remember what about or if she had quit or he had fired her this time, but she wasn’t here and his life needed some god-damned order while she wasn’t. So he was attempting this while mainlining coffee from the cafe that he was tipping the waitress well to keep refilling while not paying any attention to the phone calls he was making or the volume of them. If you asked Tony at any point this was when he would tell you it had started, on a day where he was stressed, tired and behind on his work as usual and did not need this bullshit.

In actuality it started about a year and a half before that fateful day in June 2001, it started when a Russian scientist fucked up and caused a very expensive bit of equipment to topple over. Normally this would have just made his superior officers rip him a new one and his paycheck to go down significantly. Due to Private Orlov’s luck this was not all that happened, the equipment falling caused a crack in the ice below the surface which made it unsafe to continue their work. After all the numerous drills they had at ass o'clock in the morning the base was evacuated within an hour and they didn’t get to see the full extent of the crack.

————————————–

January 2000

Steve awoke when he felt the Valkyrie shift, he forced his eyes to open to take stock of the situation. His first response was to move, to hit, swing the shield and escape but he knew he needed to know what was happening before he done that because the last thing he remembered was saying goodbye to Peggy knowing he was going to die. He saw the ice and had to fight the urge to panic, he would need to keep his energy and his head if he was going to get out. The ice seemed to have formed a crust which was allowing him to breathe for the moment but it wouldn’t last, he needed a plan.

He shifted his weight, glad to see everything was still responding and that he could move slightly. Good, that meant he could use the shield to break the ice if he could get enough power behind it. Once the ice broke however it would let in the water and he would loose his oxygen, he wouldn’t have enough to get to out the plane and make it to the surface. He closed his eyes again remembering the layout of the plane, the cockpit he was in, the stairs, the hanger bay with the bombs.

The hanger bay would have oxygen masks! The pilots had them, he would just need to get to the hanger bay and grab one. Once he had that he could leave the plane and swim to the surface, sure he would need to figure out how to carry one and the shield while he had barely any strength but he could do it. He needed to do it.

His mind made up he shifted his weight again and forced himself into the ice in front of him which didn’t move. He leaned back and tried again forcing himself forward harder causing it to creek. Bending his knees he tried once more with force and saw a crack start to form, he done this again in quick succession watching as the crack grew bigger. Taking a deep breath and praying to whoever was listening he hit the ice with as much force as he could.

Battling against the flood of water he swam towards the stairs, forcing his eyes to stay open and remember whatever the water tried to do to his eyes would be fixed by the serum once he was on dry land and had food. He dived down the stairs using the rails to help him and spotted the canisters of oxygen. Barely able to hold in a sigh of relief he forced himself to be faster feeling an ache in his lungs until finally the mask was over his face and he was able to breathe.

He took a moment to calm himself feeling the shaking in his hands slow down he then took stock of what was left in the plane. Off to his left he could see the bombers and to his right equipment. He swam towards the equipment to see what he could savage, he noticed a jumpsuit, quickly peeling off the uniform he changed into it. Making sure there was no indication of who the jumpsuit belonged to he quickly looked for something he could store his uniform in.

After finding some sort of canvas bag that he was able to store his uniform and shield in he swam towards the exit with his canister. He swam upwards for what felt like hours but could only have been minutes he reached the ice. Noticing a crack near the cockpit he slammed the bottom of the canister into it. He done this until he felt the ice give way and he was able to push the canister through the hole in the ice and on to land. Fighting for grip he forced himself out of the water and fell on to his back on top of the ice. He was safe for the moment but he needed to get home, he needed to know - how long he had been in the ice?

———————————–

June 2001

Tony took a sip of his Americano and then frowned trying to remember when the Gala he had planned was, what time it started and if he had already talked to a tailor about getting a suit for it. He hadn’t noticed he was speaking aloud until the person at the table beside him turned to him and gave him what couldn’t quite be described as a smirk but was definitely not just a smile.

“The Gala is on the 30th and starts at 8pm sharp, you did speak to a tailor about a suit but I’m not sure which one. If it helps you started muttering under your breath in Italian after about Sfogliatelle and I think I heard something depraved about what you would do for it.”

Tony stared in shock for a moment at both the man’s face and the Brooklyn accent that had come from him. Giving himself a quick mental shake he returned the smile/smirk the man had given him and replied.

“Do you often listen to strangers private phone calls or am I just special?”

That actually got him a laugh, a real one from what he could tell with the stranger throwing his head back and clutching himself. Tony once again let himself appreciate the man, the way his shirt clung to his muscles and showed just how in shape he was. Tony was sometimes a drama queen but for a moment while the stranger was laughing he could have sworn the man was a Greek God come to life and Tony was more than happy to get on his knees and worship him. He was so distracted that he almost didn’t notice when the God replied.

“No, I tend not to make a habit of it but I have good hearing and you aren’t exactly quiet. Perhaps if you want to keep the things you would do for Sfogliatelle private you shouldn’t talk about it in public?”

The man was definitely smirking at him now and Tony quickly reminded himself that this was a public cafe and the first four ways of stopping that smirk would be frowned upon. Not one to be up staged he lowered his eye lashes while saying

“Why? Do you want to use that information against me? See if I am willing to do all that just for some semi-sweet cream?.”

That caused the God to blush and swallow so hard Tony could practically hear it which he counted as a win until the God licked his lips while staring straight in Tony’s eyes. Tony would later deny it but that caused him to jolt forward and spill the rest of his Americano over the table. Not one to miss an opportunity however he used it as an excuse to move to the Gods table and introduced himself.

“Tony Stark and all joking aside that really did help though I’ll probably forget when the Gala is again in five minutes”

The God reached forward and took his hand giving it a shake with an actual smile this time.

“Jack Morita, no problem I’m happy to help but if you’re that busy shouldn’t you have an assistant or something?”

Tony winced while letting the God (Jack’s?)hand drop.

“I did? I do? I’m not sure at the moment, there was an argument, yelling and a storm out and it may not have been her storming out on me. She might come back tomorrow but then again it’s been a week and this is the longest she’s not come back for after an argument.” Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose and waved his hands as if trying to physically get rid of the subject. “Enough about me, what about you Jack? What brings you to this lovely establishment today? Apart from eavesdropping on strangers and then giving them cheek?”

Steve feeling bad enough already for the shape his thought were taking about Tony without even giving him his real name let the subject drop. Instead he gestured towards his table where a sketchbook filled with what seemed to be the view from Cafe Cabana lay.

“I thought I’d find somewhere quiet to sit and sketch, maybe find some thing that catches my eye and draw that.”

Tony took a moment to really study the page, noticing the way the scene came to life and the figure just off to the left with messy hair, a phone in one hand and gesturing with the other. Forgetting himself he grabbed the book and looked at the figure, it was definitely him that was sat at the table in Jack’s sketch he just couldn’t believe it. How had he managed to fit how Tony’s day/week seemed to be going in just a drawing of the back of him. The figures shoulders were back and seemed to be confident but if you looked closely you could see the tension and weariness in it.

“This is……you drew this? I don’t know much about art but this is brilliant, did you go to art school or something? Are you working anywhere doing this cos trust me if this is you messing around you’d do really well”

That earned him a deep chuckle from Jack who didn’t seem to be offended at Tony’s lack of manners.

“I went to art school back in Brooklyn and I haven’t started work yet, I graduated in May but there’s not much you can do with a Fine Arts degree”

Steve didn’t tell Tony that when he graduated in May he meant May 1941 and not 2001 but he doubted Tony would believe him if he had told him. After all that would make him 83 years old and he didn’t look like the average pensioner.

When he looked up again Tony was grinning like a fool and Steve had no idea what caused him to grin like that. Later, much later Steve would learn to be wary of that grin. It would lead to things that most people would categorise as insane, unsafe and quite a few unfavourable adjectives that Steve wouldn’t necessarily disagree with. He would only be able to say to whichever person saying them that no bodily damage had been done and any property damage had been taken care of already. At the moment when he first seen it however all he could think was that Tony had lovely eyes and that he was screwed.

“Well if your not working and I need an assistant why don’t we find a mutually beneficial agreement?”

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breeeliss · 7 years ago

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[Miraculous Ladybug]: Sweet Deliveries

day 1 and already im like an hour late but fuck it what else is new?

first up is all of the week 1 prompts for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare ! im trying to warm up to nathanael as a character and i’ve also been meaning to push out more mlm in this fandom, so consider this me killing two birds with one stone. hope you enjoy~

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Prompt: Day 1 - “Wrong Number” Pairing: Adrinath (Adrien x Nathanael) Title: Sweet Deliveries Summary: Wrong Number AU in which a sick Nathanael tries to ask Rose for things to help his cold and calls Adrien instead. Adrien, of course, exceeds all expectations.

Sweet Deliveries

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine taking the bus home?”

Rose was standing on her tippy toes, pressing the backs of her hands to Nathanael’s cheeks and forehead, frowning at the heat that was burning her skin. He smiled weakly — wincing against his sore throat — and zipped his sweatshirt all the way up to his chin. “It’s only a fifteen minute ride. I don’t want maman to have to take time off work just to come get me.”

“You’re running a fever you silly!”

“It’s just a tiny one,” Nathanael assured her, even as he began to feel lightheaded the longer he stayed on his feet. “I’ll rest up for the rest of the day and be back at school tomorrow.”

Rose frowned and gently smacked his elbow. “I better not see you in school tomorrow, Nathanael. I’ll march you right home!”

“It’s already so hard to concentrate in class, I don’t want to miss even more by being absent.”

“Maybe if you put that sketchbook of yours down for more than two minutes at a time….”

Nathanael jutted out his bottom lip and stared at her pitifully while Rose rolled her eyes half-heartedly. “Come on, give me your hand.”

“What for?”

She pulled out a pink pen and scribbled some numbers on the back of his hand. “When is your mother going to be home?”

“Late probably,” Nathanael admitted. “Late shift tonight.”

“Alright. I want you to call me when school finishes and let me know if you need anything,” she explained. “I have soup, medicine, tea, and snacks at my house and I can run them over quick. You only live a few blocks from me so it’s no trouble.”

Nathanael smiled softly. “You don’t have to do that, Rose.”

“Oh, let me fret over you a little,” she grinned, tapping him on the nose with the end of her pen. “You were looking so faint in class just now, it puts my mind at ease to lend a hand.”

They walked to the entrance of the school and Rose reached up to pull Nathanael’s hood up so that his ears wouldn’t get cold. He checked his pockets to make sure he had enough for the bus and waved over his shoulder. “Thanks for walking me to the nurse. I appreciate it.”

“Just make sure you come back healthy, okay? Juleka and I will take notes for you!”

Nathanael tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweater and shivered against his fever as he made his way across the street to wait for the bus back home. Luckily his timing was good because he only had to wait a couple of minutes before the mostly empty bus rolled up to the stop and left him with a double seater that he could use to prop his legs up. Usually he liked to use the bus ride home to get some sketching done, but his nose was so stuffed and his body was so hot that he merely rested his bag on his lap and used it as a pillow as he rested the entire ride home.

Mme. Mendeleiev had already sent notes home to his mother about the fact that he was slipping behind in physics because of his lack of attention in class. Nathanael tried to explain that it was more than that — the lessons went by so quickly and it was hard for him to keep his attention on all of the equations and demonstrations without switching to his pencils and sketching across his notes. His mother understood, but he had promised her to bring his grades up and prove himself to his teachers soon. He couldn’t very well do that by missing school, but he supposed that sitting in class with a fever wasn’t going to do anyone good.

When the bus finally reached his stop, Nathanael had gotten up from his seat and felt the dizziness hit him all at once, finally convincing him that maybe he was more sick than he’d thought. It felt like ages before he got to his building, thankful that his apartment was on the first floor of the walk-up.

His mother was on a double shift at the café until dinner, which meant he was on his own as far as taking care of himself, but he hoped that sleeping off the fever would be enough. He walked straight to his room, replaced his jeans with sweatpants, and crawled into his bed, falling asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

About four hours later, he woke up and felt like complete death. A headache, a worsened sore throat, a persistent fever, and violent chills made him think that maybe Rose was onto something when she mentioned him staying home tomorrow. He checked his cellphone and saw that school had let out about five minutes ago and figured that it might be a good idea to take Rose up on her offer. He didn’t think there was any medicine left in the kitchen and he wasn’t sure if he was up to making himself some warm soup anyway.

Bundling the blankets around him into a warm cocoon, Nathanael copied Rose’s number from his hand into his phone. Her writing was really loopy and hard to make out at spots — was that a 5 or a 6? A 4 or a 9? — but he did his best and got sent to her voicemail.

“Hey Rose,” Nathanael croaked, his voice coming out scratchy and pained. “It’s Nathanael. I think I might need some things after all. Not much! But, uh….if you could pick up some medicine for a fever, some tea, and maybe some soup, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll pay you back for all of it, but I really don’t feel up to getting out of bed at the moment. Take your time! No rush! Uh….thanks.”

Normally he wouldn’t dream of putting anyone out of their way like this, but Nathanael was desperate and alone in his house with a sickness he was convinced was going to keep him bed bound for at least the next twenty four hours, so he tried to reign in the guilty feeling as best he could.

Nathanael turned the television on in his room and watched through some old re-runs of a few cartoons and sitcoms that he liked watching until he heard the doorbell ring. Perfect. That must be Rose. Medicine and soup sounded absolutely heavenly right about now. He wrapped all his blankets around him until he was covered up to his nose, forced himself out of bed, and padded across the apartment to the front door.

Of course the very last person he expected to be standing on his welcome mat was Adrien Agreste.

Nathanael suddenly felt silly showing up to the door with all his blankets tied around him like this.

“A-Adrien?!” Nathanael asked in surprise. “Um….hi? What are you doing here?”

Adrien was standing there as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be visiting Nathanael as his home. He lowered the scarf away from his mouth and frowned at the sight of Nathanael. “Aw, buddy, you look awful! Do you have the flu or something?”

Nathanael blinked and looked down at his feet self-consciously. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Might just be a nasty cold, or strep throat. Sorry, uh….what are you doing here exactly?”

“Oh, right!” Adrien grinned. He picked up the two shopping bags that were sitting at his feet and thrust them forward. “You mentioned that you needed some things to help with your cold, so I went and picked them up for you!”

“Things?” Nathanael frowned. “Wait, I thought….Rose was going to get that stuff for me. I left her a message. Could she not make it?”

Adrien chuckled. “I think you might’ve typed in her number wrong. You called me.”

Nathanael’s eyes widened. He’d called the wrong number? “Are you sure?”

“I mean, I can play the voicemail for you if you want, but yeah I’m sure,” Adrien laughed.

“Oh, no,” Nathanael groaned, hiding his face in his blankets. “I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Adrien waved off. “That sort of thing happens all the time. Mind if I come in, by the way? It’s a little chilly out here and I forgot my gloves at home.”

“Y-yeah sure!” Nathanael stumbled, moving aside the umbrella stand to give Adrien room to come inside. “Sorry about that. Maman isn’t home yet so make yourself comfortable I guess.”

Adrien respectfully toed off his shoes to leave by the door and made his way to the kitchen while Nathanael locked the door behind him. He sneezed into his blankets and climbed up on top of one of the chairs in the kitchen while Adrien busily unpacked his shopping bags and organized all of the contents on the table. He stared incredulously at all of the purchases and swallowed to soothe his throat. “What is all this?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, so I got a little bit of everything? I hope you don’t mind.” Adrien folded up the bags and left them on the countertop while he pointed at each thing left on the table. “So here’s some ibuprofen for your fever. I also grabbed some cold medicine — drowsy and non-drowsy because I wasn’t sure which one you liked best. I got you some ginger tea and honey too in case your throat is feeling a little bad. I went to the café near my house and picked up some chicken soup for you too. There’s two servings here so that you’ll have some leftover to heat up later.”

Nathanael felt himself gaping. “Wait just a min—”

“I grabbed some bananas and apples since maman always gave those to me when I was sick to snack on. But I know that’s boring so I also had Marinette pack me some chocolate croissants for you to eat when you get better. I also grabbed all of the books from your locker that you’d need for our homework — sorry I hope that wasn’t weird or anything — oh, and I also made copies of my notes in the library real quick so that you wouldn’t miss anything.” He stepped back from the table with a proud grin stretching the apples of his cheeks as high as they would go and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yeah! So, uh….hope that’s everything you needed.”

Nathanael twisted around the tins of tea that Adrien had bought him and gaped at the expensive brand written across the side. “You didn’t have to go and get all this!”

“I mean, I couldn’t find Rose after school, and you sounded so miserable over the phone when you left that message, I couldn’t just ignore it,” Adrien replied. “It was the least I could do, honest.”

“I don’t know how to pay you back for all of this though.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Adrien frowned. “Don’t even worry about that, paying for all of this stuff was nothing.” He blinked at the wording. “Er, sorry. That sounded a little elitist, didn’t it? I just meant that I was happy to help you out and get this stuff for you. You honestly don’t have to worry about paying me back.”

“But you went through all the trouble.”

“It wasn’t trouble in the least,” Adrien said. “I’m always eager to help a friend.”

Nathanael couldn’t tell if he coughed in surprise or whether he had to add cough to his list of symptoms. “Friend?”

“Of course. How could I just leave you suffering here like this?”

To be fair, when Adrien put it like that, it seemed like the only option was for him to come over with probably one of the biggest care packages Nathanael had ever received in his life. But he was sure that anyone else would’ve just called back and told him he had the wrong number so that he could figure out where he went wrong dialing Rose. To actually go out to stores, cafés, and bakeries for him — especially when Adrien and Nathanael didn’t really talk all that much — seemed so baffling and so touching that Nathanael didn’t quite know what he was supposed to do or say.

“I….thank you,” he finally said. “This is way more than I ever expected anyone to do for me. I really appreciate it.”

Adrien took off his scarf and jacket and hung it over the backs of one of the kitchen chairs. “Want me to make some tea and heat up the soup for you? My Chinese lessons don’t start for another half hour so I can hang around for a short bit.”

“Oh, you don’t have to….” Nathanael trailed off, because it seemed like Adrien didn’t mean for what he said to be posed as an actual question. He was already looking through the dishwasher for a clean kettle and filling it with water from the sink.

Figuring that there was no sense in arguing with Adrien at this point — he was already in his house and it was hard to stare at that sunny smile of his and dare to tell him no — Nathanael pulled his knees up to his chest and pointed out where the pots and mugs were.

It was almost endearing to see Adrien move around the kitchen. It didn’t seem like he spent much time in the kitchen himself — he struggled turning on the stovetop burners and he burned his finger on the handle of the pot when he went to stir the soup — but he was whistling while he moved around and kept asking Nathanael questions about the history project they had to turn in next week and what he got on their last visual arts assignment. They never really spent time talking much during class, but Adrien was a very simple, honest person. It didn’t take much effort to share a space with him. He brought up easy topics, and when Nathanael didn’t feel like talking he took the silence with ease. Nathanael had a smile on his face right up until Adrien brought his tea, soup, and medicine over on a tray.

“Do you like any sugar or milk in your tea?” Adrien asked.

“No just honey’s fine.”

Adrien carefully stirred in a spoonful of honey, slid the tray in front of Nathanael, and sat in the chair across from him. “Take the medicine first, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Nathanael sighed and made a show of picking up the bottle of ibuprofen and shaking out two pills. “It’s probably one of those twenty four hour things. I’ll be fine for tomorrow.”

Adrien leaned his cheek against his hand. “Are you sure? I think you should stay home tomorrow. I’ll bring all your notes and homework again if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, but thanks for the thought,” Nathanael smiled, and gosh he realized he’d been smiling ever since Adrien started boiling water for his tea. “I just hate missing school, you know?”

“Yeah, I understand,” Adrien laughed. “I came into school one day with a chest cold because I didn’t want to miss school and Nino all but pulled me by my ear to the nurse’s office halfway through our first class.”

“I remember that. He kept scolding you for the rest of the school day.”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot like Nino,” Adrien grumbled. “He gave me a lecture about not infecting the rest of the class with my sick. I didn’t think of that. But, I dunno, I guess when you’ve been homeschooled for most of your life you don’t want to miss out on actual school, you know? Where you get to walk to classes and have lockers and sit next to your friends and stuff.”

Nathanael didn’t much see what the big deal was about walking and lockers, and sitting next to friends wasn’t really why he prioritized coming into school everyday. But Marinette told him during visual arts one day about how Adrien pitched a fit to his father about getting the chance to go to public school after being homeschooled with very little friends before this. Someone as vibrant as Adrien didn’t really seem the type to thrive in a homeschooled setting anyway. Someone who splurged on soup for someone he didn’t really know well needed to be around people.

“I just don’t want to get marked down for any reason,” Nathanael mumbled in between sips of soup. “I already get in trouble for not paying attention in class. I don’t want to make it worse by not being there at all.”

“Do you not like the subjects?”

“It’s not that. It’s just really hard to concentrate sometimes. Especially in physics. Mme. Mendeleiev is always watching me to make sure I’m taking notes, and I try. But sometimes she just talks too quickly and it’s all gobbledygook to me. So I just draw and do other homework and try to catch up at home.”

Adrien pouted his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know physics gave you such a hard time.”

Nathanael shrugged. “I try not to make a big deal about it. It’s my fault anyway.”

“It’s not your fault at all,” Adrien insisted, pointing to Nathanael’s mug of tea to make sure he was drinking it. “I imagine it’s frustrating to try and pay attention in a class when things don’t make sense.”

“I was never much of a math or science person,” Nathanael admitted. “It’s always been like that.”

Adrien’s shoulders were slumped and his face was pulled into a deep frown, making him look more like a kicked puppy to Nathanael than anything else. It was almost strange to think that Adrien would be so upset on his behalf. Even Nathanael didn’t think it was too much of an issue, just inconvenient more than anything else. But suddenly Adrien’s face lit up, and he smacked his hands on the table so hard that he almost made the tea in Nathanael’s mug spill over. “What if I helped you?”

“Huh?”

“I’m really good at physics!” Adrien said excitedly. “Well. I mean. I do well in it. I like it, I mean. Not to brag or anything, God no! Just that I….well, anyway. If you needed help with assignments or with the material I could totally give you a hand.”

Yup, a puppy was definitely a good descriptor for Adrien. Nathanael could almost picture drawing ears and a wagging tail on Adrien right now and being perfectly content with the results. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for,” Nathanael insisted. “Honest. I’m probably hopeless.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Adrien waved off. “Look, you don’t have to say anything now. Just think about it. You have my number now. Just text me if you ever need any help. I’ll try to explain it slower than Mme. Mendeleiev does.”

There was no way that Nathanael could brush off that kind of kindness — and Adrien really was pulling out all the stops without even realizing the weight of what it was he was doing — so he nodded and ducked his face down towards his soup. “Alright,” he decided. “I’ll think about it.”

Adrien was only able to stay with Nathanael for a few minutes before he had to leave for his Chinese lessons. It was mostly Adrien talking about something silly that happened with him, Marinette, Alya, and Nino during lunch that afternoon, but Nathanael was fine to just listen and watch Adrien gesticulate through the whole story. Nathanael was slurping the last of his soup and feeling the medicine improve his fever a little bit when Adrien pulled his jacket on again. He stared at Nathanael for a moment looking pensive and unsure, but he shrugged his shoulders and pulled Nathanael into a brief hug.

“For good luck!” Adrien said as he pulled back and helped wrap Nathanael’s blankets around him again. “Let me know if you need anything else okay? I know your mother is coming back soon but still. Just in case.”

“I will,” Nathanael promised. “And….thanks again for all of this. I’m starting to feel a lot better.”

Adrien waved goodbye with both hands as he let himself out and locked the door behind him. Now that the apartment was empty, Nathanael couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, the tight bundle of warmth sitting in his chest the entire time finally unravelling and making him feel a lot less like the sack of garbage he felt like before. He finished up his lunch, shoved everything in the sink, and crawled back into his bed to try and rest off the cold.

He hugged his pillow to his chest and smiled into it before he fell asleep.

Nathanael had been one of the people who’d been in the class the longest, but he was perfectly fine with feeling like he didn’t strongly fit in anywhere.

He and Marinette had been drawing partners since they were six, Nino had been his back row buddy for as long as he can remember, and Kim had always been the one chasing bullies across the park to steal back the colored pencils they’d taken from him. But those young friendships weren’t nearly as deep as some of the others he’d seen. Marinette and Alya were practically inseparable, Kim and Max had more inside jokes than Nathanael even thought was possible, and Nino and Adrien were always huddled together by their desks coming up with secret handshakes and sharing headphones before class.

It never interested him to try and insert himself into those dynamics, and even though Rose insisted that wanting to be friends with people who already had established friend groups wasn’t intrusive in the lease, Nathanael stood by his word. He enjoyed the time he spent keeping to himself, and genuine kindness from his classmates was all he ever asked of anyone.

Of course Adrien Agreste went and took that normal brand of genuine kindness, injected steroids into it, and handed it back to Nathanael in a show of sincerity that he still felt undeserving of.

Adrien was an enigma. Nathanael watched him on first day of school as he did most of their classmates who joined them for the first time. Chloe was hanging off of his arm, he seemed to struggle making friends, and he stumbled around for a bit as he tried to figure out how this public school thing worked. But by his third day, Nino and Adrien were laughing with each other like they’d known the other for years. Everyone came up to his desk in the mornings to say hi not because he was a famous model, but just because he had a kind word and a warm smile for anyone who passed him. He was brilliant, excelled in his classes, did so much after school, and still had time to prove to everyone that there was nothing intimidating or reserved about him.

It was a wonder how someone’s presence could be so assuming and light up a room so brilliantly that people couldn’t help but be attracted to it. Nathanael wanted to chalk it up to natural magnetism, but he was really good at seeing beautiful and precious things in unlikely places and transferring them to all of his sketchpads. Adrien was something special, and Nathanael never thought that he’d be able to see that kind of specialness up close and personal in a way that left Nathanael’s head feel like it was swirling.

But….it was a nice kind of swirling. Sort of like when you spun around in circles for too long and left yourself feeling dizzy at the end of it, but still marveled at the way all the colors around you melded together into something breathtaking. It was overwhelming, but Nathanael wouldn’t necessarily mind more of that kindness.

Which led to Nathanael sitting in his room, thumb hovering over Adrien’s phone number in his cellphone.

His fever was gone, but his sore throat was still bothering him and he still felt generally weak and tired. So he decided to follow Rose and Adrien’s advice and stay home another day, which worked wonders since it meant he had a long weekend ahead of him. But he was looking through the physics homework that Adrien had brought him yesterday, and he kind of wanted to cry.

Adrien had the highest physics scores in the class, and he already offered to help Nathanael study. It seemed silly to say no to the help.

Nathanael took a huge breath, opened his texts, and deleted his message seven times before he sent it.

nathanael: hey adrien, it’s nathanael! i hope school went well today. are you busy today? i was wondering if i could take you up on your offer to help me with physics? yesterdays homework isn’t making much sense.

He carded his fingers through his hair, got up from his chair, and practically canon balled into his bed, hiding his head under his pillow.

Why was he nervous ? It wasn’t like Adrien was difficult to talk to or too intimidating to even look at. That couldn’t be even further from the truth, and it was evidenced by the fact that everyone always seemed to be at ease just by being around him. So why did Nathanael feel like his heart was about to burst out of his chest just from asking him for some private study lessons? It didn’t make any sense, but it certainly didn’t stop Nathanael from peeking out from underneath his pillow and waiting for the phone on his desk to illuminate with a new text message.

The moment it vibrated, he leaped out of his bed and unlocked his phone

adrien: hey nath! are you feeling better? fencing practice was cancelled so i can come visit if you want.

Visit? Have him come here again? Two days in a row?

nathanael: oh gosh you really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble. im sure i can figure it out over text

adrien: lol it’s no trouble if im offering :P only if it’s ok with you ofc

nathanael: i mean i am feeling a lot better

nathanael: and i imagine this stuffs easier to explain in person?

adrien: haha so is that a yes? :D

nathanael: i guess so?

adrien: alright cool! i can come over in about an hour if you want. i just have to stop by my house and leave my fencing stuff. do you need notes and homework?

nathanael: actually that’d be amazing thanks

adrien: notes, homework, and your own personal study buddy coming right up! ;)

Nathanael laughed at the long string of thumbs up emojis that Adrien decided to tag onto the end of the message, and he was almost positive that he didn’t know a single person in the world who could possibly get this excited about sitting down for an entire afternoon just to go over a pile of physics homework. He wondered if it was similar to the way Nathanael wished he could just take French and visual arts classes all day and got excited whenever he saw a nice charcoal set in the store.

When Adrien finally knocked on his door, he was practically bouncing on his toes and holding two boxes of pastries from the Dupain-Cheng bakery with a blinding smile on his face. “Hey!” he greeted. “Wow, you’re looking so much better. It was the soup, wasn’t it? It works wonders, I tell you.” He gently shook the boxes he was holding. “I brought more snacks!”

Nathanael raised a brow. “That’s….a lot of snacks.”

“I said the same thing,” he frowned in thought. “Marinette sort of pushed them on me when she heard I was coming over. She was really adamant about it too.” Adrien cleared his throat and shook his head a little. “Uh, anyway! They’re palmiers and opera cakes. I hope that’s okay? They were on sale.”

“That’s fine,” Nathanael chuckled. Something about Adrien’s enthusiasm was exasperating in a really sweet way. Even though it was a lot, he was sure Adrien didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I’ll get us some water. We can study in my room if you want.”

Nathanael hung up Adrien’s jacket, grabbed some water bottles from the fridge, and led them into his room that he spent most of the morning cleaning. The moment they stepped inside, Adrien immediately dropped his bag on the floor by Nathanael’s bed and sprawled across his carpet, his limbs thrown about as if he were at a close friend’s house. He dug through his things and handed off a folder filled with papers and post-its. “Here’s all the notes and homework assignments for today. Let me know if you can’t read anything.”

“Thanks,” Nathanael said, accepting the folder and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw how little homework there was for this weekend. “So, brutally honest opinion, on a scale of one to ten. How impossible was the homework from yesterday?"

“A 3 max. Not that bad, I promise,” Adrien assured.

“Says the physics nerd.”

“Excuse me, I prefer the term physics connoisseur,” Adrien winked with a smile.

“I guess I’m lucky if I get to borrow your help for a bit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that. I think I’m pretty lucky to get to study with you. We don’t hang out much and I’ve always wanted to talk to you more.”

Nathanael’s back straightened up almost immediately and he couldn’t pretend that that didn’t make his heart flutter just a little bit. “Y-You’ve been wanting to talk to me?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said. “For a while actually. I just wasn’t sure how to go up to you and just….ask if you wanted to hang out. I didn’t want to be awkward about it.”

“You? Awkward about making friends?” Nathanael snorted. “You’re so popular! Everyone talks to you.”

“I’ve never really had to make friends before this,” Adrien admitted. “I mean, I was lucky where Nino was concerned. He reached out first, and he’s just the best. But everyone else I guess just came up to me and started being nice, and I only ever knew how to be nice back and just put on a smile, and making friends after that just sort of came naturally. It’s been working so far, but I’m still kinda bad at starting conversations.”

Nathanael furrowed his brows. “I don’t know if I believe that….”

“I’m serious!” Adrien insisted. “You for example! I’ve never known how to talk to you. You always seemed to want to be left alone and I never wanted to bother you.”

“I mean…I’m not really the best at socializing,” Nathanael said. “People sort of already know that so they tend to give me a lot of breathing room so to speak. But….it’s not like I don’t want people to bother me.”

Adrien reached out Nathanael’s hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you! It was just what was going through my head, I wasn’t trying to make assumptions.”

“It’s okay,” Nathanael laughed. “To be fair, I kinda thought you were really unattainable. Like you sort of give off all this positive energy and make it look so easy. I didn’t know how to talk to you .”

“Sounds like we’ve both been wasting a lot of time,” Adrien said. “I’ll admit, that’s kind of why I rushed over here yesterday.”

“Because you didn’t want to waste time?”

“No, because I thought it’d be the perfect chance to talk to you. I mean, it was mainly to help you because you looked miserable yesterday, but it was also just a great chance to get to talk with you. I-I hope that’s not weird or anything.”

Nathanael’s fingers were tangling themselves up in his lap. “No. That’s….actually really refreshing. I don’t think anyone’s ever told me they were that eager to talk to me. It’s not like I take up a lot of space.”

Adrien shrugged. “You don’t have to. I noticed you without you having to do that.”

Nathanael took a shaky breath in and was suddenly heavily aware of Adrien’s hands that were still gently braced around his wrists. He stared at him as if he hadn’t just admitted something that was making Nathanael think terribly indulgent but horribly silly thoughts that he was doing best to keep locked up tight in his head so as not to ruin the moment. Adrien had only been in their class for a few months and it was hard to believe that he’d been wondering how to talk to him of all people. But it was hard not to let his insides melt a little when Adrien smiled at him, and it was then that he realized that maybe this whole physics studying thing was a really bad idea.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and could literally feel the heat radiating off his face. “G-Good to know.”

Adrien must have realized that he was still holding onto him, because he moved back and rubbed his hands on the carpet underneath him. “Right! Yeah! So, physics! Uh….do you have the homework sheets.”

Adrien was a really patient teacher. He was good about letting them take breaks so that they could plan hangman and tic-tac-toe in the corners, and Adrien seemed to get a kick out of the fact that Nathanael was making silly comics of people running away in fear from his physics equations and interacting with all of the diagrams in the problems. It made focusing on the really complicated equations a lot easier, and Adrien was great at explaining everything in a way that was much more simple than what Mme. Mendeleiev liked to rattle off in class. It was the quickest he’d ever gone through his physics homework, and he even felt confident enough to try and do this weekend’s homework without any help. They managed to get through all of the problems together and rewarded themselves with pastries every time they got a problem right. It wasn’t often that Nathanael got to do homework with friends and he didn’t think that he’d ever find himself spread out across his carpet and laughing with Adrien while they stuffed themselves with sweets. It seemed like a strange dream that he didn’t quite know how he entered but wasn’t about to wake himself up from.

When they were finally finished with their physics homework, they were both laying on their backs next to each other, each with a box of pastries sitting on their stomachs, Nathanael allowed his giddiness to give him the courage to speak. “Can I ask you something? And you promise to answer honestly?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Why did you want to talk to me so bad?”

Adrien kept his eyes on the ceiling and spoke around a mouthful. “I….don’t really know. I had a feeling you were a really interesting person, and I was right. And you just caught my eye I guess.”

“Why though?” Nathanael asked.

Adrien smiled nervously and didn’t turn his head to look at Nathanael. “You’re going to laugh. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Is it bad?”

“No! Not bad!” Adrien promised. “Just….well. I was really excited when you called me by accident. More excited than I thought I’d be. I guess.”

Nathanael moved his box, propped himself up on his elbow, looked down at Adrien. “Why were you excited?”

“I’m serious, you’re going to laugh.”

Nathanael bit his lip. “Try me. I might not laugh.”

Adrien blinked and for the first time looked like he was perfectly planning what he was going to say in his head. “What do you mean you might not? You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“I don’t,” Nathanael admitted. “I know what I’m hoping you’ll say.”

“What are you hoping I’ll say?”

“I asked first.”

Adrien’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Fair enough.” He sat up from the floor and turned around so that he was facing Nathanael. “Just….promise that if I don’t say what you’re hoping I’ll say we can just go back to making jokes and eating junk food.”

Nathanael really really hoped that wouldn’t be the case. “Promise.”

Adrien took a huge breath and raked his fingers through his head as if to psych himself up. “Well, during the first week or so of school, my driver had forgotten to get used to my schedule and remember that he had to pick me up after school. There was a time where I was just sitting out on the stoop waiting for him to come pick me up and I saw you listening to music, humming to yourself, and sketching in your binder. I don’t know if you remember that.”

Nathanael liked to stick around after school a lot to sketch when he wanted to enjoy the nice weather a bit before going home. “I tend to do that a lot. But keep going.”

“I knew that you were in my class and I sort of remembered your name, but I like I said, I didn’t really know how to go up and talk to you. Plus I didn’t want to bother you.” Adrien stared down in his lap and smiled. “I, uh….well the first thought that popped into my head was that you were really cute.”

Adrien squinted his eyes shut and turned his head away as if preparing himself for a blow, but all Nathanael could do was hope that all of the sudden joy that was rushing from his head all the way down to the tips of his toes wasn’t too obvious. “W-Wait. Do you mean….?”

“Aw, don’t make me say it, it’s embarrassing and I didn’t rehearse,” Adrien groaned.

“So you do mean that!”

“I-I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

Nathanael’s head dropped in relief as he shook his head. “No. No way. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Wait, really?”

“I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Adrien still looked at Nathanael like he was starstruck. “Wait, there’s no way this is happening….”

“That makes two of us.”

Adrien licked his lips and scooted closer to Nathanael so that their knees were touching. “Can I try something?”

Nathanael nodded. “Uh. Sure. What is it?”

Adrien’s eyes darted down to Nathanael’s lips before dropping back down to his lap out of nerves, and suddenly Nathanael felt as if he were going to faint. Surely that’s not what he meant? This was just the over imaginative parts of Nathanael’s imagination getting away from him and making him anticipate things that weren’t actually coming his way. But Adrien finished surprising him that afternoon by buckling up all the courage inside of him and leaning forward to give Nathanael a sweet, short kiss on his lips, so short that Nathanael only had time to inhale sharply through his nose before it was over and Adrien was keeping his shoulders bunched up to his ears and keeping his eyes turned to the ceiling.

“Sorry,” he whispered out. “I panicked.”

“It’s okay,” Nathanael chuckled. “Do….do you want to try again?”

Adrien scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m so bad at this.”

Maybe it was because Nathanael thought it was so sweet to see someone as personable as Adrien suddenly look like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or where to drop his gaze that Nathanael decided to take Adrien’s hands, lower them away from his face, and try to go something brave for once. He kept his hands around Adrien’s wrists as he leaned in and left a softer, slower kiss on Adrien’s lips, waiting patiently for Adrien to relax and gently open his mouth to kiss him back.

It wasn’t Nathanael’s first kiss, but it was his longest one — long enough for him to pick up little details about Adrien that he hadn’t noticed before. He had long eyelashes, his lips were a little chapped, and his bangs were long enough to tickle Nathanael’s temples when he tilted his head just slightly. He was also a really sweet kisser, one that made his toes curl in his socks and all his sighs come spilling into Adrien’s mouth. He wasn’t sure how long it had lasted, but he was practically counting the seconds that passed the moment Adrien ended the kiss and kept his lips just half an inch away from Nathanael’s, his breathes furling and mixing with his own.

“Man,” Adrien muttered. “Nino is never going to believe me.”

Nathanael couldn’t help it. He laughed with his whole body and felt like there was almost too much happiness running through his body. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract us.”

“Please. That was a great distraction.”

Nathanael tilted his head back towards their books. “Should we try and do the rest of it? Aside from the physics.”

Adrien winced. “Ehhh. I mean. It’s Friday. There’s no rush.”

Nathanael smirked. “And I’m guessing you don’t want to head home yet.”

“Kissing is more fun than homework.”

Nathanael blinked and cursed under his breath. “Aw, shoot. I might still be contagious. I’m sorry.”

Adrien shrugged. “Worth it. Besides, if I get sick, I can always leave you a message by accident so you can bring soup to my house.”

Nathanael rolled his eyes when Adrien cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for another kiss. He supposed that after all of this, taking care of Adrien tomorrow when he inevitably got sick would be fair turnabout anyway.

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