#it's still not a complete definite; everyone might just remain here but a safe space sounds....nice

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

((....the more I think on it the more real it's starting to be (I woke up with a legitimate game plan this morning??? Stryha's feathers.) ahhh... I'm going to have to somehow find someone offering cheap commissions for graphics and such, rip me.))

[spacegoldilocks]

The Gods Demand a Queen

Bjorn Ironside x F!Reader

Summary: You're a thrall in Kattegat, under the rule of Bjorn, who desires to one day be Queen and sit on the throne. He helps you realise these dreams, in more ways than one.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, throne sex, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, bit of choking, bit of spanking, size kink, praise, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.5k

The Gods have never favoured you.

You’ve been at someone else’s will for as long as you can remember. Not all of them have been nice. It’s toughened you up, though. You’ve learnt your place and your manners. You’ve learnt when is the correct time to speak, and definitely when isn’t the correct time.

You’ve been in Kattegat, under the mercy of Bjorn Ironside, for a few months now. He’s fair. You mostly stay in the shadows and out of his way. He’s not even here most of the time, anyway. You can’t really complain about your time here, even though you dream of a different life.

You dream of sitting high on a throne somewhere. Anywhere. Not having anyone to answer to. Your own thralls and slaves to do with as you please. A thousand people who call you their Queen, who sit around you, showering you with compliments and gifts. Sacrifices in your own name. A crown upon your head and your face smeared with colours that tell everyone that you are the Queen.

Alas, dreams are dreams. And you don’t dare defy the authority that lingers over you. The fate that awaits your disobedience and failure to capture the power you so desperately crave is worse than simply maintaining your fantasy. You listen attentively to the every need of the family in charge. Most notably, Bjorn.

He’s away more often than he’s here. In those moments, the throne lays empty. Practically begging to be used. At present, no queen resides in Kattegat and you long for the feeling of the throne beneath you. It calls to you like no other.

It’s more than a feeling that tells you that you belong on the throne. You feel as though the Gods have a plan for you. They keep you waiting, so you can ready yourself for when the times comes. It is a question of when not if. The Gods demand a queen for Kattegat, you can hear them.

You say Bjorn is away more than he’s here, yet today is one of the rare times he’s here and he’s active. A room full of people and many duties to attend to. Which also means you’ve been on your feet all day. With Bjorn home and his being busy, you’ve had no end of tasks to complete and requests to indulge.

It started this morning when he and his men arrived on the shores of Kattegat. You having to draw baths and prepare a feast, wash clothing and all the while do it quickly to keep time for any other jobs that might need doing. This included waiting on their every need as they enjoyed festivities for returning safely from their travels.

And so, the throne has been occupied. The only time Bjorn left his seat was to eat with his men, and he quickly returned to it when he was finished. You’d been watching him since he returned. The way he sits, spreading across the chair. Arms thrown over the sides, legs parted, head resting against the back as he looks down at everyone else.

Despite everything you feel, there’s no denying that power suits him. He makes a good king. He is fair and strong and courageous. And he is a son of Ragnar. He speaks with a loud, commanding voice when he addresses his people, thanking them for their bravery and telling them that they live to face more battles before walking the halls of Valhalla.

You won’t lie to yourself and say he’s not attractive, you’ve thought about it before. If you weren’t a thrall and spent more time with Bjorn, you like to think that something might’ve happened between the two of you. But you really have a knack for staying in the shadows, hidden, and only coming out when absolutely necessary.

Throughout the entire evening into night you’ve stayed hidden away as much as possible, watching Bjorn in his position on the throne. Gods, he’s so big. You shake the thought from your head, feeling the pain in your shoulders from so much time racing around today. Your back is killing you. But it’s getting very late, not long and you should be able to go to bed. Not long, you tell yourself. Everyone in the hall should be getting tired too, a long day of celebrations after an even longer time travelling.

They start disappearing in small numbers. Many women leaving in the arms of men, some already married, others seeking comfort in one another just for the night. You’ve made it your business to become familiar with a lot of people around here, not just so you can be a good thrall, but just in case. In case of what, you don’t know. You just think it might be good to have a good indication of who people are, and what they do, in case you need it.

Eventually, there’s only you, a few other slave girls and a handful of men, who are outrageously drunk. They’re so loud. They shout and bang their fists and cups on the table, spilling their drinks and making an even bigger mess that will need to be cleaned up.

Bjorn looks almost fed up, scowling as he watches the men from his seat. He holds his chin, elbow propped up on the arm of the throne. “That is quite enough.” He calls.

All eyes shoot to him. The men look like they want to argue back at him, but ultimately know better than to do so.

“Finish your drinks and leave. Everyone needs their rest.” He gestures around the room, even though there are only a few men, all concentrated on the table nearest the fire. “We have a long few days ahead of us.”

They chug their drinks, not wanting to disappoint or annoy Bjorn any further. They leave one by one, as soon as they each finish drinking, bowing to him before swaggering out of the hall.

You and the other girls are expecting Bjorn to up and leave, letting you all take care of the mess in the hall. But he doesn’t.

You each look at one another from across the room, spaced out along the walls. You’re all as confused as each other, trying to look for someone, or something, to take a cue from.

One of the girls, directly across from you, begins to move. She steps forward gingerly, looking at Bjorn as she does so for any sign that he wants everyone to remain as they are. It’s incredibly tense. This has never happened before. You’re waiting for his voice to boom and echo throughout the mostly empty room, telling the girl to return to her place.

His eyes flick to her, watching as she goes to the table, picking up as many items as she can carry, before returning to stare at the ground, lost in thought and twiddling his fingers. He doesn’t seem to have a problem - you’d know if he did.

And so the rest of you follow her lead, carrying things out of sight to clean and making the hall look more presentable after being thoroughly worn out by the returning warriors.

Your whole body aches. Your back, your feet, your head. Everything. At this point, you just want to sit down. The soles of your feet are probably worn from standing, walking, rushing from one place to the next.

You take any little milestone you can get. You told yourself everyone in the hall would leave and they did. Check. Now it’s four more tables to clear, the fire to put out, the goblets and cups to leave soak. The list goes on.

You and the other girls are dotted around the hall, cleaning and collecting different things when Bjorn gets up. You all make it your duty to not look at him.

Do not make it obvious that you were waiting for him to do something.

You hear him make his way across the room, his heavy boots making the wood underneath him creak, thumping across the stone floor as he descends from the elevated throne. His footsteps stop much too early for him to have already left the room, let alone the building. It’s unbearably quiet.

You audibly gasp when you hear whispering voices - much too quiet for you to understand what they’re saying, and thankfully they’re too far away for them to have heard your embarrassing gasp. Although, you immediately recognise one of the voices as Bjorn’s. Gods, you’d love to turn around to see what he’s doing. His behaviour tonight is continually fascinating.

You try your best to keep going with your task. ‘Just clean the table’ you tell yourself. ‘Focus on that. There’s a stain, try to get it out. Pay no attention to the-‘. Now there’s two sets of footsteps. One Bjorn’s, the other one of the girls. Is she leaving?

The stain. You scrub at it, trying to ignore the way Bjorn’s footsteps stop again. Followed by more whispering. And more footsteps. What the fuck is going on?

You think another one of the girls has left too. You scrub harder at the stain, thinking that perhaps if you channel enough of your remaining energy into removing it then your brain won’t have any to think about what Bjorn may or may not be doing.

Gods, why are you so on edge? Would you be this tense if you could actually see what he was doing? Shit, is that more whispering? And it’s closer. Maybe if you stopped scrubbing the table so loudly you could just about hear…

No. The stain.

Fuck, what is happening? In the room, to the girls, to Bjorn, to you.

You can probably guess what’s happening to you - you’re tired. You’re becoming delusional from being so exhausted by today. You’ve worked hard. You’re still working hard. This damned stain. You’re working so hard to remove it, to distract yourself, you’re only now feeling the way your shoulder is pulling from the harsh movements of your arm.

The stain’s probably gone. You lift your arm up to check and, sure enough, it is. Surely, you’re done for the night now? You’re exhausted, the long hours you’ve worked today are starting to catch up with you. You want to sit down. You want your bed. You want to rest. You want the hand that’s just started rubbing circles across your back to keep doing it. Gods, you could fall asleep right here, the motions lulling you.

Fuck. You flash back to your reality, your head whipping around as Bjorn’s eyes meet yours. He looks aggressive, towering over and shrouding you against the table. His hand rests on the small of your back as he just looks down at you. Maybe its your exhaustion, or perhaps its seeing him this close up for the first time, but Gods is he gorgeous.

Well, you’ve always thought he was handsome but something about seeing the many scars on his face that you’d never had the privilege of seeing before, and the brilliant blue of his eyes somewhat dimmed in the firelight, and the coarse hairs of his beard like this snaps you awake. His smile breaks through the tough exterior he presents, making you relax just a little bit.

The next words that come out of his mouth take you by surprise more than his hand that smoothes across your back. “Have a drink with me.”

Have a drink with him? You probably look insane because you just stare at him. Completely dumbfounded. Somehow you manage to nod your head, letting him lead you away from your lovely, clean table to a slightly dirtier one. At least he appreciates your hard work.

You set yourself down on one of the benches by the fire, resting your arms on the table to try to find a comfortable position where your back doesn’t ache. Bjorn, meanwhile, crosses the room, fetching with him two cups of ale. He sits down right next you, leaving a bit of space but not much.

He looks at you quizzically as he takes a gulp of his drink, whilst you sip. “What is your name again?”

You’re not surprised he doesn’t remember, it’s been many months since you last spoke to him outside of his instructions to you. You answer him between sips of the ale. It’s not your favourite drink in the world, but you like it. And you’ll probably get a small buzz off it between your sleepiness and the lack of water you’ve drank today.

“Hm,” he hums. “That was it. You have been here for several months now, no?”

You can’t help but wonder why he’s sat with you, asking you questions about yourself. Is he expecting you to ask questions back in return? You don’t think there’s a thing you don’t know about him. He is the king, after all.

You nod. “And what do you think of Kattegat?” He swigs from his cup, eyes staying on your face as you carefully consider his question.

You have nothing negative to say about the place, but you still try to choose your words carefully in case you say the wrong thing. “I think it is lovely here.”

He stays silent, willing you to keep talking.

“The people are nice, the food is good. And it is a beautiful place. There is much to see and do.” You elaborate.

He smiles under his beard, nodding in approval at your answer. You sip some more, waiting for another of his questions. He gets up to refill his cup, having finished it rather quickly. He checks yours, seeing it still mostly full, and walks across the room.

Just when he’s about to sit back down, he asks you another question. “And what do you think of the King?”

Your heart starts hammering against your chest - what sort of question is that? Moreover, what the fuck does he expect you to answer if not praise? You see his kind smile has turned into a devilish smirk when you look at him. Are you imaging it or has he sat ever-so-slightly closer to you?

You straighten yourself up, ignoring the painful tugging of your shoulders. “Well,” you begin. “I think that he is just, and fair. And that he makes a good leader.”

The smug look on his face stays, not bearing to stay silent long enough for you to make the decision to keep talking on your own. No, instead he insists you keep feeding his ego as soon as you take the smallest break in talking. “Go on.”

This time it’s you who smirks at him. “I know he is a fierce warrior. And I think that he looks rather good on the throne.” You mean the last remark in that the symbol of authority suits him. But, if he decides to take it … another way, then that’s up to him. Either way, you don’t mind what he interprets the comment to mean.

He looks away from you, chuckling, but giving nothing away. It makes you laugh a little bit too, any tension from earlier having melted away with your easy interactions.

It doesn’t last, not for you at least.

“Tell me, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be Queen?”

With one single sentence, you feel as if he can see right through you, right into you. Fucking of course you have, but how should he know? How can, in one sentence, he be able to floor you like he this, to ask you a question so unintentionally personal? One that pulls something deep within you, something you’ve never voiced to anyone and suddenly now it’s being unearthed by the one person who you should never have to confess it to. Not that you necessarily need to confess the degree to which you have thought about it, but even the insinuation that you have is enough for you to begin flustering, muddling any answer that comes into your head into an unintelligible mess that you can’t verbalise.

You’re quiet for much, much too long. You need to say something. “I’m sorry?” You settle for pretending not to understand.

But it’s no use. The damage caused by you silence is done. His jaw rocks to the side, clenched so hard his jaw bone juts outs under his beard. “So you have.”

Your drink lays forgotten, only serving as a distraction for your anxious hands as you fidget with the rim of the cup. You avoid his gaze, unsure how to act. Then again, surely everyone has dreamt about being king or queen? Maybe not to the degree you have, but doesn’t everyone strive for power? You hold your head up a little bit, feeling slightly reassured by your own line of thinking.

You keep your eyes trained forward, though. He tips his head to look at your face and you can just feel the way he’s smirking at you. He’s left you looking so stupid, stewing in your own thoughts.

“Come with me.” Is all he says as he swings his legs over the bench to stand up. When you look up he’s waiting, hand held out for you to take.

You get up, smoothing your dress out and taking his hand. He guides you out to stand with him on the other side of the bench and leads you towards the very far end of the long room. Towards the throne.

Your eyes flick from him, to the throne, to him again - back and forth as you walk the length of the room.

He stops at the chair and you stop with him, still with your hand in his. Is he doing this as a display to taunt you? Show you up close what you can never have? It’s fucking cruel if he is.

You wait for him to do something so you can take a cue from it. You look up at him and he simply motions with his hand to the throne. You frown, waiting for more information from him. “Sit.” He says.

Sit? On the throne? On his throne? Gods, is this some sort of test? Is he giving you a taste, a mere crumb, of how it might feel to actually have power? Or is he just pushing you to see how far you’re willing to go to obey him? It’s his throne, it belongs to him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone else use it - not even while he’s away, far gone on a raid somewhere.

He drops your hand, using his own to push gently on your shoulders. He spins you around, pulling you down to sit on the throne as he stands behind you.

The room looks huge from this position. Slightly elevated above everyone else and able to see everything and, should the room be full, everyone. It’s comfortable too, and big. You expected as much, Bjorn doesn’t even fully fill the chair and he’s the biggest, broadest man you think you’ve ever seen.

He lowers himself to your ear behind you. “How does it feel?”

‘Correct’, is what you want to say. “Good.” Is what you settle for.

He straightens back up, placing his hands on your shoulders. He’s so big, and he’s putting far too much weight on your already sore shoulders, causing you to wince. “Are you alright?” He asks, alleviating some of the pressure.

“‘M fine, my back hurts is all.” You try to make it not seem as bad as it is, but truthfully you’re in pain.

“Let me help.”

“N-no, it is fine, really.” You lean forward to get up from the throne just as he starts using his thumbs to dig right into a tight spot in the middle of your shoulder blades. You let out a groan at how good it feels, closing your eyes and slumping your head against the back of the chair. Any desire to get up leaves you as Bjorn works the muscles at the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it is too hard.” The calloused pads of his fingers trace firmly across the tops of your shoulders, barely grazing your collar bones as his thumbs work into the top of your back.

It’s a power trip. You sitting on his throne whilst he massages the knots out of your back and shoulders. It’s getting you high, and you open your eyes to look out across the room. You imagine how it would look full of people. Like it was earlier tonight. Packed full with people there to see you. You'd kill for it.

Gods, his hands feel so fucking good and they spread across your shoulders so big. Your eyes flutter back closed, wanting to enjoy his touch without much other sensory experience.

You’re reluctant to acknowledge the fact that it’s turning you on, too. The pain of him rubbing away the aches mixes with just how amazing his warm hands feel against your bare skin. It makes you moan, forgetting where you are as you revel in his hands taking the pain away from you, leaving only traces of his touch behind.

He focuses on your arms now, the clusters of dull ache now gone from your back. His palms work down your biceps, squeezing your soft flesh over your clothes and coming back up to massage your shoulders. His fingers spread out over your chest, rubbing the skin there. You hum under his touch, which he can probably feel reverberating on your chest under his fingertips.

You didn’t tell him your chest hurt, but he spends time concentrating on manipulating your flesh there anyway. His fingers dig into the bones, coming up momentarily to wrap his thick fingers around your neck, squeezing before dipping back down. He repeats this a few times, making you whimper every time he does.

“Is this good?” He whispers from behind you.

You moan out a small ‘yes’, letting him continue with his handy work. His splayed hands come further down your chest, beginning to dip below the necklace of your dress. Your heart beats faster and fuck, you’re wet. You’re trying not to let it get to you but in this moment, you’d let him do anything to you, you realise.

You furrow your brows, trying to push it to the back of your mind, but his hands keep working further and further down, in tiny increments. You swear he’s going to reach your breasts any moment. But he doesn’t. It feels like he’s teasing you. In fact, he goes anywhere besides them. He massages the skin directly above them, kneading into it with the heel of his palm. Then, he dips his fingertips deep into the neckline of your dress, drawing a long, hard line through the middle of your chest, dragging between your breasts. He starts near the bottom of your sternum, feeling the rapid beat of your heart as you try not to think about the warmth pooling between your legs.

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches as he realises how rousing you’re finding this, being groped and touched by him. He told himself he wasn’t going to take it any further, but he can’t help himself. Not when you respond to his touch like this. All the little moans you’ve been making, and the way your heart thrums against your chest. He wants more from you. He wants to hear and feel more of you. Fuck it, he thinks.

He touch leaves you, and you feel yourself come down slightly from a high you didn’t even realise was so severe until it cuts short. You open your eyes to see him walking around to the front of the throne again. He extends his hand to you, much like he did earlier, and you know its your signal to get up from the throne.

You take it, feeling no pain whatsoever in your back, nor shoulders, when you hurl yourself from the comfort of the chair.

He surveys you, using his free hand to cup your cheek. His touch is intoxicating. You don’t know what it is, but the way his hands feel on your skin makes you chase the warmth of him, needing more than the short strokes he gives you. You lean your head into his palm, only slightly but enough to indicate your interest to him.

He’s trying so hard not to give into the part of his brain that tells him to kiss you and to touch you even more. But he hasn’t done well at fighting it up until now. And, unless he’s deluded, you want this too.

Your chest rises and falls, waiting for him to do something. It’s not your place to. His hand stays holding your cheek. It’s so fucking big. It’s big enough for his palm to cover your entire cheek. Gods, his hands were big enough to almost spread out across your chest. His long, thick fingers working at the base of your neck and down past your breasts. Your mind drifts as you stare at him, thinking about how they might feel somewhere else.

His hand drops from your cheek. You think he’s going to walk away and leave you desperate for his touch again. Instead, he sits back down on his throne, looking up at you as he settles against the back of it casually.

Fucking Gods, if he keeps looking at you like that you’re going to jump on him. It’s him that made you feel like this anyway. You were perfectly content to go to bed after finishing cleaning, but no. He had to ask if you wanted a drink with him, and ask you questions, and fucking massage you as you sat on his throne.

He keeps looking at you, considering what to do next. All he knows is he wants you out of your dirty, worn clothes. He flicks his hand up and down, gesturing at them. “Take it off.” He tells you.

Finally, you think, trying not to be too eager in removing your garments.

You start with your shirt, unhooking the top few buttons to allow you to slip the long sleeves down your arms. You let the sleeves fall and the rest of the garment goes with it, left in a heap at your feet. You’re completely revealed for him, your body glowing from the light of the fire behind you.

His cock twitches in his trousers upon seeing you bare before him. He’s trying not to be too obvious, trying to be patient in looking at your body, but he’s greedy. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin that he can see.

You look down at the slight tent in his trousers, smirking at him. He returns it, curling his finger at you to beckon you forward. You’re much too far away, he wants to let his hands explore you. Much further than they already did.

You walk to him, meeting his hands as they come up to hold your tits. Those big fucking hands that trace under the swell of your breast. That grope at your flesh, and his thumbs that brush over your nipples, hard in the cool night air that makes its way into the hall.

He alternates between pinching your nipples, pulling them so hard it almost hurts, and soothing them again by gently rubbing over them.

Everything about this feels so dirty. Displaying yourself to Bjorn. The literal king. Offering yourself to him naked like this whilst he sits completely clothed on his throne. You know you’re probably not the first thrall he’s done this with, but it’s a first for you. And you actually like it. It’s a thrill. Whimpering at every roll of his fingertips over your nipples.

You ache for his touch somewhere else, trying to subtly squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, taking his time to study every detail and flaw in your skin. It could be ages before he touches you elsewhere - if he decides to touch you elsewhere.

He pinches you again, but you’re so sensitive from his hands that you yelp, chest jumping under his touch. He looks up at you, looking at your face for the first time since you removed your clothes as he leans forward, enveloping your breast in his mouth. His tongue is hot but does wonders to soothe the slight stinging. He maintains eye contact as he swirls gentle circles around your nipple, leave a small bite before he moves to work on your other one. His beard scratches at your skin as he moves his mouth, melting in with the pleasure he's already giving you.

You snake your arm around his head, holding him to you as you watch him in awe. He’s an expert with his tongue, flicking and drawing patterns over the peaks. He moves on from focusing all of his attention on them though, sucking sloppy wet kisses into the bouncy flesh on your tits. He travels the kisses across your chest, leaving you glistening with his saliva. He goes down, grabbing at your hips as he traces his tongue down the centre of your breasts to just above your navel.

You want him to go further, resisting the want to buck your hips towards him to will him to go on. He draws his head back, his hands still resting on your hips.

He shifts his gaze down, watching his own movements as his fingers move across your lower abdomen, combing through the curls that lead him down.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod. Gods, it’s more than okay. You’ve been waiting for him to touch you for the last … how long? You’ve lost all sense of time. All you know is you’re needy for him.

His tips of his fingers travel further, stilling as they reach the beginning of your slit. He lifts his head, studying how your face contorts in pleasure as he moves his fingers again, pressing one of them against your clit.

He pushes his finger down further towards your entrance, feeling how wet you are there. He smiles at this, satisfied knowing how turned on you are for him. He drags his finger back through, now wet with your slick, using it to draw an irritatingly weak circle around your clit. You try to push your hips further forward for more pressure, but the hand that remains on your hip prevents you from doing so.

Your breath staccatos as he pays not nearly enough attention to your throbbing clit. You moan at the loss of contact when he removes his hand from your cunt altogether, spinning you around so your back, and ass, face him. He almost pushes you over as he grabs handfuls of your behind, spreading your cheeks apart to really get a good look at you.

All you need is just a little push, a minute or so of strong, steady work on your pussy to send you over the edge. He’s intent on making you wait though. It’s cruel, you think. He knows what he’s doing to you - he’s fucking felt it. It’s sadistic. Making you wait. Teasing you.

He kneads your ass, his thumbs dipping into the space between your cheeks, so close to where you need him but never quite reaching there. It’s torturous. You know if you push your rear out against him, it’ll probably result in a longer wait before he properly pays you the attention you desperately crave. And so you stay just as you are, letting him manipulate your flesh as he so pleases. You can wait, you tell yourself.

Suddenly, he takes one of his hands away, using it to place a hard smack against your ass. You cry out as you feel heat rising where he’s slapping you. It stings and you’re surprised you like it. He watches your body shake, eagerly awaiting more. You clench around nothing as he lands another one. And another. He huffs a laugh, seeing how your body jolts at every strike, continuing to land a few more as he pleases.

He seems satisfied with his work on your behind, raising his hands to your hips once again. He places a soft kiss on your burning skin and then you’re being hurled backwards, landing on his lap.

He immediately starts attacking your neck with tongue and teeth, hands roaming around your stomach to pull you into a comfortable position on him. He then uses them to pull your legs over both of his, spreading them to give himself access to your body.

And he makes sure he makes the most of it. He grabs your tits, letting your head roll onto his shoulder as he continues his assault on your neck. You feel your skin going tender as he sucks harsh spots against the delicate flesh there. You feel the irritation there as his rough beard scratches your skin, with the potential to leave your skin marred.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers between sloppy kisses.

“Gods, please.” You moan in response.

“Where?” He grabs your hand, placing it over his and pressing firmly, letting you guide him wherever you want him. You take his hand down, letting it hover over your trembling cunt. He nips at your jaw. “I thought so.”

He repeats his motion from earlier, pressing a single finger against your clit, but instead of only dipping down to your entrance, he opts to slide an entire finger into you down to his knuckle. Your back tries to arch away from him, but he keeps you locked down against his chest with his spare arm.

He pumps the finger in and out of you, making the most obscene squelching sound from the warm wetness he uses to ease the movements of his digit. Your arms lay useless at the side of you, letting him do all the work to pleasure you.

He adds another finger, scissoring the two of them inside you, stretching you open as he brings his thumb down onto your clit. To go from one lone finger to this makes you cry out, hips spasming from the shock. You can’t help moaning with how he works your pussy, curling his fingers to hit a spot deep inside you that makes you feel dizzy.

“If you keep being so loud people are going to hear you.” He warns.

“Maybe I would like that.” You retort, bucking your hips as far as you can with him restricting your body’s movements.

You feel his cock twitch against you as he snarls into your ear. “Such a filthy girl.” One of his hands begins snaking its way towards your throat, grabbing at it harshly to cut off any noise that tries to escape your mouth. “But as much as I like hearing your pretty sounds, I need you to be quiet.”

The moans get trapped in your throat, and you can’t warn him of your oncoming orgasm. It starts creeping up on you, burning low in the pit of your stomach as his hands work to push you further and further. You hit at the hand on your neck, trying to get him to let you go.

He loosens his grip but the fingers inside you work faster to make you cum. “What is the matter?”

“Close.” Is all you say, the oxygen able to reach your brain again momentarily before he constricts around your neck again.

He nods into your shoulder, kissing you there as he pumps, nudging your clit with his thumb as he does so. The way you make the smallest noises that he feels trying to escape beneath his fingers makes him groan. You’re making him so fucking hard. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, preparing for your climax when he slows his movements down entirely, sending you spinning away from coming. He removes his fingers from you, bringing them to trace small wet circles around your nipples, as his other hand eases its grip on your throat.

It takes you completely by surprise, only seconds away from finishing when he rips it all away from you. You’re breathless, asking him why he stopped. “I didn't cum.” You tell him.

“No, I know.” He laughs the deepest, filthiest laugh you think you’ve ever heard in your ear. “You’re not coming yet. I want you wetter before I make you cum on my cock.”

The words hit deep inside you, making you clench on instinct. So this is what he wants to do? Prepare you to take him. Or maybe he just likes seeing you squirm and fidget on his lap, completely in control of your body.

Either way, it’s doing wonders to keep you wanting him.

He slowly drops his hand back down, bringing the same two fingers into your warm heat. He leaves your clit alone, focusing all his attention on dragging the rough pads of his fingers against the sweet spot inside you. He curls them, hitting just where you need him to every single time. It’s bliss and before long your walls start fluttering, a sign of your peak.

He feels it. He feels how your pussy starts spasming around his fingers, clenching the very tips of them as he pushes them so fucking deep into you. He loves this. Getting to push you further and further. He wants you begging for him to let you cum. Begging for him to fuck you and let you cum all over him. He wonders how many times he can edge you before he gives in to your sweet little cries and pleading eyes.

Both of you knew it wouldn’t take long for your high to burn back up as quickly as it diminished. It makes you crazed, letting your loud moans fill the hall with nothing around your neck to stop them getting out. He works faster, now knowing how you respond to being so close, pushing his fingers into your opening and using his other hand to absentmindedly play with your tits.

He knows now how to work you up unbearably quick and strip it all away before you're pushed too far - and it’s exactly what he does. As you're sent hurtling forwards towards your high once again, he takes away his fingers, leaving you edged again.

You slump back against him and let your head rest on his shoulder, already exhausted from the whiplash of pleasure and it being stripped away before it’s able to consume you.

He rolls your head towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You’re doing so well.” He praises. He rubs your thighs, waiting for the right time to start playing with your cunt again. It’s surprisingly soothing.

He waits for your breath to become steady and for your body to cool down. You’re worked up beyond belief

Your body’s covered in a cold sweat, worn out from all the edging he’s putting you through. You don’t even know how much more of this you can take. How much more you can tolerate before you take matters into your own hands, giving yourself your own release. It sounds good, but truthfully? Waiting it out for the prospect of being fucked by him? Gods, it sounds a thousand times better. You can’t see it but you can just feel how big he is, his cock pressing hard into your back. You want to feel it stretching you, filling you in a way his fingers fail to achieve.

He decides you must be ready, because he takes two fingers to rub against your clit. Your hips buck up, the nerves in your clit overworked and yet desperate to chase any contact to give them release. Your moans come out frantically, whimpering in your slumped position lying against him as his hot breath fans over your face.

His fingers work around your bud with ease, using the excessive slick you’re producing to slip through your folds. He loves this, watching how your body looks, so worked up. You’re shining with sweat, an icy sheen over your entire body, coating your chest, your legs. Beautiful.

You’re so sensitive and you haven’t even cum. You writhe in his lap, waiting for the moment you feel yourself about to peak and trying to prepare for the eventual fall away from it. You know it’s going to happen. He told you he wants to fuck you through your orgasm, so you know you’re about to be denied three times in a row.

You feel it, again. Your clit becoming more and more needy as his fingertips swirl around it. Your back starts to arch, preparing for a climax that’s not going to happen. You push his hand away on instinct, already accustomed to being denied your high. The quick movement of your hand takes you both by surprise.

You keep a firm grip as your fingers lock around his hand, keeping it held hovered above your pussy. Your eyes flutter closed. You know you can’t take another round of this … whatever it is. Fucking torture.

“You learn fast.” He remarks, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly, your orgasm slipping away from you for the third time.

“Please, let me cum.” You plead with him.

“Here, get up.” He helps you to your feet as you stand on weak, shaking legs.

You get up, feeling just how wet you are at the apex of your thighs as they press together for the first time since he pulled you onto his lap. They move together, sticky, as you pad around to face him.

He’s spread out across the chair, just as he was earlier when you saw him. The only difference is the huge bulge in his trousers, and the wet spot - evidence of the messiness between your legs.

He dips his hand below the loose waistband of his trousers, pumping himself without you being able to fully see. With his other hand he pulls you by your hips onto his lap, facing him this time. You place your knees in the free space left on the throne on either side of his legs. You reach your hand to meet his in his trousers and feel how big he is for yourself.

Your hand can barely wrap around his girth. You give him a hard tug, making him grunt. It’s like music to your ears. Finally getting to hear the noises he makes, instead of him pulling the sounds out of you as he denies you. He twitches in your hand as you free him from the confines of his trousers.

And if you couldn’t feel it in your hand, you fucking see it. He’s huge. You bite your lip, anticipating the difficulty you’re going to have letting him fuck you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone this big before, let alone let them inside you.

You look up at him, seeing how smug he looks knowing you’re gobsmacked. He knows he’s impressive. Just knows you’ve never seen a cock that big. He probably knows you’re going to find it hard to take, too.

So you’re determined to take it. And you’re so fucking ready to cum. You need it.

You rise up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance. You're wet enough, but even the nudge of his head against your opening makes your mouth fall open. He pulses in your hand as you stay there, trying to let your cunt adjust to the intrusion.

The way he stretches your tight hole makes it sting. But you can’t help but think it feels fucking amazing - he fills you so well as you sink down onto him. A different kind of pain and pleasure mixture than when his big, warm hands were caressing your shoulders and chest, earlier. It’s not warm and soft like that, it’s blazing hot and fiery, perfect around him as he throbs.

Your hands find their way back onto his chest, confident that he won’t slip out of you by accident. You move up and down on just the top half of his length, taking yourself further down with every jolt of your hips.

The hands on your hips still you as you move down on him. “Do you want me deeper?” He pushes his hips up, nudging his cock further into you by a mere fraction. “Tell me, is that what you want? You need me to fill you?”

Fucking of course it’s what you want, you want to feel him all the way inside you. You want to be able to feel him when you walk tomorrow. You’re just nervous at having to take all of him. “Yes, just go slow.”

He stays holding your hips, lifting his hips up to push into you. He loves watching it. Loves how it feels. How your tight heat clenches around him as he pushes into you. He takes it slow, like you asked, gently lowering you back onto him a little as he watches himself move inside you. You’re almost there and he thrusts the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt.

You mewl, completely filled by him now. You roll your hips against him, feeling every time his head moves against your walls and nudges against your cervix.

“F-Fuck. Bjorn -“ you begin.

He feels your thighs clenching on either side of him, a sign that you’re about to cum. “Do it.” He says. “Cum for me.”

The relief washes over you just as your orgasm does. Your body jolts forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. You cum hard. So hard. He feels his cock get flooded with more of your arousal as you squeeze him with the flexing muscles in your cunt. Your eyes roll back as you hold yourself against him for security, clutching onto him hoping to ground yourself against something.

He keeps moving his hips against your writhing ones, dragging his cock inside you. It makes you scream. The sound gets muffled against his clothed chest as you crumple into a spent heap on him.

You feel more than hear the guttural moans that escape Bjorn as he feels you coming undone so hard on his lap. The sounds reverberate in his chest underneath you and he holds you close to him. You nuzzle into his chest, letting him take over the movement to chase his peak now that you’ve reached yours.

He meets virtually no resistance from your cunt now, easing in and out with your slick and the slackness that came with your orgasm. He thrusts a few times before starting to hammer into you with zero remorse.

You try to thrash out, but he’s holding you so tight against his chest that there’s nowhere for you to go.

“You didn’t think I was only going to let you cum once, did you?” He growls into your ear. “You worked so hard, you deserve one more.”

Your arms are trapped under the weight of your upper body, all of which is held flush against him as his arms wrap around you. He holds you in place as he brutally fucks up into you, his skin slapping against yours and making the filthiest smacking noises that echo around the empty room.

You relax against him, feeling every inch he buries into you and letting yourself be carried away by the euphoric way he’s making you feel. You swear, no one’s ever made you feel like this.

He notices the way you go slightly limp against him, using the opportunity to keep one arm around you and wedging the other between the two of you. There’s just enough room for him to reach his middle finger up to stroke over your clit in perfect time with his thrusts.

There’s no sound that escapes your mouth when you open it to cry out. Only a hoarse, throaty moan that gets caught somewhere. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you feel another peak approaching. It’s debilitating. Your cunt's been teased so many times and then allowed to cum, it’s as if it doesn’t know how to deal with the oncoming climax. You clench, drawing higher and higher and higher, waiting to be dropped down to your pleasure.

When you cum, it’s even more brutal than the time before. He has no consideration for your spasming body as his pace never falters, only becoming even easier for him to fuck you now with two orgasms worth of your cum to guide him.

You cry his name out, begging him to cum soon. You don’t know how much more of his savage, relentless thrusts you can take.

“P-perfect. So good.” He replies, losing himself in chasing his high. He can feel himself getting closer. And the way your pussy gets so wet and how you clench so hard around him. Gods, he’s surprised he didn’t cum with you. He has always prided himself on his ability to last, though. “W-won’t - fuck - won’t be long. Want to cum in this cunt.”

Fucking please, you think. You want to feel him fill you in the only way he hasn’t yet.

His movements begin to falter ever-so-slightly, so you know he means it when he says he’s close. He tries to get a few more good, deep thrusts into you before he cums. He lasts for maybe five or six more.

Everything about him is big and excessive. Big hands, broad shoulders, big cock. And even his fucking load is huge. He pushes into you as he spurts his cum, feeling it drip down his cock and drilling it back into you as he tries to keep fucking you while he cums.

He sounds so good moaning in your ear, louder than he’s been moaning this entire time. The noises he makes are gorgeous - low, husky groans right next to you.

He drops his hips down, but even still half his length is still buried inside you. You feel his cum leak out of you, probably mixed with some of your own wetness. And he, in turn, feels it run down his cock, dripping down onto his balls.

You’re both left breathless and completely exhausted. He rests on the chair, one of his arms still haphazardly thrown around you, the other hanging over the arm of the throne. You lie on top of him, still curling your upper body to huddle into the warmth of his chest.

He clears his throat. “I must confess something." He begins. You lift your head up slightly to look at him. The sweat gleams on his forehead, dripping down from his temples. "I have heard the demands of the Gods. And they demand a queen for Kattegat.”

Your eyes go wide, not that he can see.

“So,” he sweeps the hand on your back upwards, coming to hold your face as he asks you one final question. “How would you like to be Queen?”

[the-fusionist]

Give me damianette fluff or jasonette fluff with a song

A/N: Hello, all! I am back! This is a very late answer, which I'm sorry for @rebecarojas07. But, it's here now! I went a little off from the prompt and it's a little angsty in the beginning, but it gets better! Also, constructive criticism is welcome, since its been a while. Also, no beta, we die like Jason Todd. I wrote 1800 words just now and I am hoping they mesh well together.

Warnings: Some cursing, slight angst, cheating, hand holding, and kissing

Song: PUBLIC - Make You Mine

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Marinette cried as she sat on the rooftop while Tikki hugged her.

She was here in Gotham as Ladybug in order to deal with a crisis involving a missing miraculous with Zatanna and Batman, along with several other American heroes she had gotten to know. The mission had taken her a month and she had needed to go undercover for a large portion of the mission, severing contact with her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. It should all have been fine, they trusted each other.

Now he’s a former boyfriend.

Alya Cesaire was a rock in Marinette’s life, and she was always there for her. If it hadn’t been for Alya Cesaire, her most reliable confidante, the break up might have never happened so soon and she would have stayed oblivious. If it hadn’t been for Alya’s pictures, Marinette would probably have never believed it herself. Five pictures of Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi, making out on several different occasions.

She wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but if she was being honest with herself she should have seen it coming. Heck, Tikki had seen it coming. They had been having more arguments as of recently. And the time that she had spent apart from Adrien on a mission had simply driven them further apart from each other. She thought back to the times she had complained to Adrien about how Lila was always so touchy with him during photoshoots, he said that it was all business that he couldn’t avoid because of his father. That she was overreacting and being too clingy. That there was nothing between him and Lila.

But those pictures existed. They were in broad daylight, and both Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi seemed to have no shame, acting in public spaces. She sent one text to Adrien.

We're over.

The message was read, and there was no reply.

That was a month ago. Marinette was getting better, very slowly. Plagg and Tikki stuck with her and supported her, but Marinette still had some nights where she refused to talk to anyone and cried alone. She had set up an arrangement with her parents so she could stay in Gotham, as she needed time away from the city of love. She could never have been more thankful.

Especially when she saw the viral video of someone throwing a bag of flour at Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi during a photoshoot. Marinette had burst out laughing when she saw the video, and she had a feeling her parents were behind it and had gotten away with it.

But still, sometimes there were days where she couldn’t shrug off the tears. They flowed freely as she swung her spotted legs from her seat on the edge of a random rooftop. She had finished patrol, and she had begun to think back to all the nights she used to spend patrolling Paris with Adrien. She felt her heart seize as she gazed out into the grey landscape of Gotham.

Well, I will call you darlin' and everything will be okay

Suddenly, she heard a throat clear behind her and a cough.

Turning around, she found herself staring at the Red Hood. She quickly wiped at her eyes in an attempt to hide that she had been crying. She had heard rumors of the Red Hood, especially of how he often murdered criminals and at some point in the past had been the leader of a criminal empire.

But, Batman trusted him. And she trusted Batman, so she should be able to trust him and this was a completely safe situation. At least, that’s what she told herself.

She heard him clear his throat again, and she realized she must have gotten lost in her thoughts. She focused back on him, albeit it was somewhat warily.

“Hello darlin’, shit wait, that was too cringey. Damn, I’m sorry.”

She felt her lips quirk upwards in a smile.

The Red Hood coughed, before holding out a steaming cup of coffee to her, and in a questioning tone asked, “Let me try again. You’re Ladybug, right? I saw you having a moment here earlier while I was on patrol, so I just wanted to give you this and offer an ear to listen to you rant if you want?”

Marinette felt her heartbeat quicken, and she felt herself blush under her mask as she replied, “Thank you so much. You’re the Red Hood, right? It’s nice to meet you. And yeah, I would like to rant, that would be super nice.”

So he sat down next to her. She doesn’t know what made her do so, but she told him almost everything. How her former boyfriend had cheated on her while she was on a mission, and how she felt so betrayed when she found out. She told him all about the loneliness and the bitter homesickness she constantly felt.

And he listened, without pity. He listened to every word she spoke, nodding at the right moments of her story, reassuring her she was right, and cussing out Adrien Agreste with her.

That was the first time she met Jason Todd, the man underneath the helmet of the Red Hood.

'Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine

Several months passed, and their relationship progressed from there. The two fell into comfortable friendship and eventually revealed their identities.

But, Marinette couldn’t deny that she had caught herself blushing as she stared at Jason during training or patrol, admiring him.

It was a similar situation for Jason. He still curses himself for the time that Marinette had smiled at him as she swung by during patrol, and he had been so caught up with staring at her dazzling smile that he didn’t notice himself walk right off a building. He was fine, his pride bruised more than anything else.

The point was, they fit well together. They bantered and seemed to constantly toe the line between friendship and something more, to the point where others began to take notice. Jason’s siblings teased him, while Alya and Nino would give Marinette suggestive looks over facetime whenever she mentioned Jason.

They got along so well, and everyone could see it. Marinette and Jason were also starting to believe it themselves. Marinette felt that she was his, and Jason knew that he was hers. They had each other wrapped around their fingers, without even realizing.

Doesn't matter anyway

Marinette was on patrol with Jason when she checked her phone and tears of anger welled up in her eyes. It was a message from Adrien.

Lila and I are over now. We should get back together now, I miss what we had.

Jason saw Marinette’s face change, and he felt angry too when Marinette showed him the text. Adrien Agreste was fucking pathetic.

“Who does he think he is? He thinks he can cheat on me and get back together? He doesn’t even have a place in my life anymore. He doesn’t even matter to me anymore.”

“You don’t need that fucker, Marinette, like how dare he act like you guys can get back together after what he did? Honestly, he’s fucking pathetic. I bet he’s sitting all fucking alone in his apartment after breaking up with Lila, thinking he matters to you. What a pretentious shit stain.”

Marinette felt herself move before she could properly think about what she was doing. Jason hadn’t anticipated her action, and he felt himself let out a small laugh of surprise when he felt Marinette hug him, her face pressed into his leather jacket.

He couldn’t help but softly smile when he heard a muffled, “Thank you, Jason, for being here for me.”

In the night, we'll take a walk, it's nothing funny

Marinette heard a knock on her apartment window. She walked over and opened it to find Jason standing on her fire escape, giving her a sheepish smile.

“Jason, it's 2:00 a.m. and it isn’t even a patrol night? God damn it, Jason, I know that I don’t sleep at night, but what could you want right now?”

Jason’s smile grew brighter, “Want to get waffles and coffee?”

Marinette’s mood quickly changed, and she felt her lips quirk, “You want me to go out in the dark, all alone with you, to get waffles and coffee?”

“No funny business, just waffles and coffee.”

Marinette laughed before she quickly threw on a jacket and joined Jason on the fire escape, before descending down with him and beginning their moderate walk to a nearby café.

Just to talk

On the way, they talked about anything and everything. Books, fashion, superhero business, you name it. They were at peace.

Put your hand in mine

As they walked into the café, Jason noticed another man, who looked like he was in his early twenties, eyeing Marinette. He felt jealousy crawl up his spine, and he knew his eyes were flashing green at the moment.

Marinette had noticed, though she pretended not to. She also tried to pretend not to notice when Jason casually slipped his hand into her own, though she knew she was furiously blushing. Jason was flustered too, and she heard him stutter as he gave his order to a waitress.

For the rest of the night, their hands remained clasped. Tikki was giggling quietly from the inside of Marinette's purse.

You know that I want to be with you all the time

Though they never directly spoke about the hand holding, the two of them definitely gradually spent more time with each other.

They frequented various cafes and libraries and stores, in and out of costume. Someone once swore they saw the Red Hood and Ladybug at a movie theater throwing popcorn at each other. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they got together, and several bets were made.

You know that I won't stop until I make you mine

Flash forward a week, and Marinette has asked Jason out on a date. He says yes. They’re both bright red when they enter the café, and this time their hands are clasped from the moment they enter.

The same waitress recognizes them, and she asks who asked the other out. She quickly finds out that Marinette made the first move. When she goes back to her place behind the counter, Marinette and Jason see a coworker slide her twenty bucks. They laugh, and enjoy the rest of their date, content with each other’s serene presence.

Until I make you mine

After they leave the café, a strong gust of wind blows. Marinette slightly shivers under the bite of the wind, before she feels a large warmth envelope her. Jason’s leather jacket is draped over her shoulders, and the man in question is gazing at her lovingly.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said before she reached up and pressed a warm kiss to his lips.

The End!

TAG LIST: @theatreandcomicfreak ​@18-fandoms-unite-08 @mochegato @princessanimeangel11 @maribatlife

If you would like to be tagged in other works in the future, please let me know!

[iamwhoami]

You Found Me (Chicago PD)

Chicago PD

Hailey Upton knows that her job is dangerous but never did she think that it could become dangerous for her girlfriend Y/N. Or at least she never hoped it would.

Warnings: Blood...kidnapping, all that jazz

Requested = Yes

The request asked for this to be long but I'm not exactly sure what constitutes as long so I'm just going to drag this on until I can't.

Obviously, you knew what Hailey's job was. You knew it was dangerous but the risk of Hailey's wellbeing and constantly having to worry about her when she went to work was easily outweighed by the pros of dating her.

It was Hailey Upton after all.

"Be safe okay," You whispered before pecking Hailey on her cheek on her way out.

"You too," Hailey replied and you chuckled.

"Please, I'm a doctor, what's the worst that could happen," You smiled.

Hailey raised an eyebrow, "Don't jinx yourself."

You only shook your head in response, giving Hailey another kiss on the lips on her way out the door.

"I love you," You called and grinned as you leaned your head against the frame of the door, watching Hailey walk down the hall.

~~~

"Y/N, there's a patient in four waiting," Maggie told you the moment you walked into the ED.

"I'll be there in a moment," You replied as you fumbled through your bag, "I think I left my hospital ID in my car."

Maggie only shot you a look, "Be quick about it."

You had all intentions of being quick. It was a trip to the car, a grab from the glove department, a trip back to the ED.

That was it.

Or at least, that was all that it was supposed to be.

You felt something was wrong the moment you stepped foot out of the ED but you told yourself that you were just being paranoid. Hailey tried to keep her work as separate as possible from you but that didn't mean that you were completely oblivious to some of her cases.

You told yourself that the gruesome details of Hailey's cases were just playing with your mind and kept walking.

You should have trusted your instincts though. You should have listened to the tiny voice in your head (the one that sounded a lot like Hailey) and just turned around and head back to the

But you didn't, and you were going to regret it.

The last thing you remembered was reaching in through the passenger door to open the glove box when you felt a heavy blow to the back of your head.

Then nothing.

~~~

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows when the patient that you were supposed to be seeing complained about how long she had been waiting for a doctor.

"Hey...Nat," Maggie handed the tablet over, "Y/N was supposed to cover this one once she got her ID but the patient's still waiting. You haven't seen her have you?"

Natalie shook her head, "No, I haven't. Sorry..."

Maggie only nodded while Dr. Manning went into the room. Something wasn't right. You weren't one to just completely forget about a patient. If anything, you were the opposite.

Slightly worried, Maggie decided to check where you usually parked the car. Leaving Doris in charge of the ED for the few minutes that she would be gone, Maggie hurried out to the parking lot.

She was confused when she saw that your parking space was empty. You always parked there. Everyone at the hospital knew that it was your spot.

Completely bewildered, Maggie walked closer to the parking spot, her eyes going wide when she saw something on the pavement.

Blood.

~~~

You groaned as you slowly came back to consciousness. Your head hurt like hell but when you tried to reach up to touch it, you realized that your wrists were actually bound together.

As your vision cleared, you noticed just how dark your surroundings were and immediately jumped to the conclusion that you were in a warehouse.

Sure, you totally could have been somewhere else but it seemed like all of the victims who were held captive in Hailey's cases were kept in a warehouse sort of building.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the dire circumstances. Someone would have noticed that you didn't return to the hospital and the police would find you soon.

And if it was Hailey and Intelligence looking for you, then you would be back in Hailey's arms in no time.

That's what you kept telling yourself.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could begin to make out details of your captivity.

Your hands were bound behind your back but your ankles weren't tied whatsoever. You knew better than to struggle against your restraints but you couldn't help but try anyways, sighing when you only ended up tightening them.

Surprisingly, you were alone and so you took the chance to stumble onto your feet as best as you could without the use of your arms and scout out the area.

Maybe your kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you an exit.

Your heart racing, you let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that panic wasn't going to help and began walking around the perimeter of the space.

~~~

"Don't even think about taking me off the case," Hailey deadpanned the moment the door to Voight's office closed.

"You really think it's a good idea for you to be working right now?" Voight raised an eyebrow, "Y/N is your girlfriend!"

Hailey pursed her lips, "I'm aware of that."

"Hailey..." Voight's voice was strangely gentle.

"No," Hailey shook her head stubbornly, "I'm not going to just sit around and wait for someone to bring Y/N back to me and every moment you waste trying to talk me out of this is time wasted on Y/N."

Voight and Hailey both knew that if Voight did bench her, she was still going to search for you, even if it meant going against her sergeant's orders.

"Fine," Voight gruffly agreed, "Go help Halstead go through your past cases. Anyone who might use Y/N as revenge on you."

Hailey gave a short nod and without another word, left the office.

Truthfully, she hadn't processed anything whatsoever, but you were out there somewhere, definitely hurt and that's all that she needed to know.

Of course, she was worried. Worried was an understatement, and once in a while, she'd catch herself thinking about the worst outcomes but stop before it got too far.

She had to stay focused on the task at hand which was to bring you home to her.

This was not the moment to break down.

~~~

You walked loop after loop around the space until your head couldn't take it anymore and you crumbled to the ground.

While walking, you had noticed a steel door but there was no way you were getting through it. Especially not with your hands tied.

Lying on the cold concrete floor, you couldn't help but start to think of worst-case scenarios. What if they never found you? What if you died before they got here? What if you never saw Hailey again?

Your thoughts were interrupted though by the sound of footsteps echoing towards the door.

You felt your heart drop and your entire body tense. Was this your kidnapper?

The door suddenly swung open and revealed two men, one significantly taller than the other.

"Well...looks like our doctor here has a little boo-boo," The shorter one snickered at your limp body sprawled on the ground.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you would regret later.

"I can see why the detective fell in love with her," The taller one joined in, a smirk on his face, "She's quite the catch."

The two men had both crouched down in front of you now and you couldn't help but spit out a remark.

"Fuck off."

"Oh, would you look at that," The tall man smiled sickly, "She's feisty too...just like our detective friend..."

A sudden rush of panic flowed through you as you came up with the theory that they had Hailey too.

"Oh don't worry about her," The shorter man caressed your cheek, making you flinch slightly, "It's much more fun watching her spiral from afar...speaking of fun...I think it's about time we made a call."

Before you could say anything else, the two men got up and left the room and you let out a breath. Besides your head wound, you were uninjured so far and if they were calling Hailey, then it would just give them more clues to who the men were and where you were.

Despite the fear coursing through your veins, you still tried to stay positive and so you just kept telling yourself that you would be out of here in no time.

~~~

Hailey's heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she answered her phone.

"Hello detective," A cold voice reached her ear.

Immediately, Hailey flagged the attention of the rest of Intelligence and put the call on speaker.

"You might have already found out that your girlfriend is gone..." The voice droned, "Such a shame, hopefully, she didn't leave you for another woman..."

"You better not hurt her," Hailey clenched her jaw, her stomach churning as she listened to the man's voice come through the phone.

The man laughed, "Who said I took her?"

"We're going to find her," Hailey said, "And we're going to find you."

"Don't be so confident about that," The man was clearly enjoying playing Hailey like this, "Let me loop you in detective, it isn't so fun to have someone take your loved one away from you is it?"

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but the call had already disconnected.

"I think I got something," Jay called out and held up a case folder, "We put a Jameson Greene away a few weeks ago. He's doing hard time and he has two brothers who he lived with...that could be what the caller was referring to when he talked about losing someone you love."

"Hey, look at this," Kim pointed to her screen, "I pulled up street cams and managed to catch Y/N's car...we lose it after a few streets but it is going into the area that Greene lived in with his brothers. Plus, there's plenty of old warehouses around that place."

Everyone turned to look at Voight who gave a nod.

"Suit up," He said and turned around, "I want Patrol on this as well. I want everyone looking for Y/N."

~~~

"Your detective sounded pretty sure that she was going to find you," The man stroked your hair and you wanted to puke with each touch.

"That's because she will," You managed to croak out. While you only had a head injury, it was still a head injury that also hadn't stopped bleeding and on top of that, you desperately needed water.

You needed Hailey.

"You sure about that sweetheart?" The sarcasm dripped in his voice and you fought the urge to spit in his face.

"Well, I know she isn't going to stop until she does so yes," You said through gritted teeth, "She will find me."

A smirk formed on the man's face, "We'll just have to wait and see won't we, princess?"

~~~

Everyone on the team could see that Hailey was beginning to spiral. After countless door-to-door and dead-end leads, they still hadn't found you and that was taking a toll on Hailey.

"Hey," Jay stopped her before they hit the next house, "You okay?"

"I'll feel better once we find Y/N," Hailey said through gritted teeth and pushed past Jay, continuing to walk.

Jay stepped in front of Hailey, "Look, maybe you should go home...take a breather."

"Absolutely not!" Hailey narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going home until I can bring her home with me."

Jay opened his mouth to press back but was interrupted by Atwater's voice calling out.

"We got something!"

~~~

It was beginning to become harder and harder to keep your eyes open and while you were a doctor, it didn't take a doctor to understand that this wasn't a good sign.

"If your detective girlfriend doesn't come soon I'm going to have to call her again," The man snickered, "Maybe I'll have to be more specific...I'll tell her to bring wine too."

You didn't have enough strength to find a comeback as you laid on the ground, your wrists still bound together.

"Princess..." The man's voice broke through your pain, "You better keep your eyes open princess."

"Don't call me that," You breathed out, wincing at how your head throbbed with each word.

The man hummed, "What should I call you then? Would you prefer darling?"

"Chicago PD!"

In an instant, the door flung open and you were suddenly yanked up onto your feet. Despite your semi-conscious state and fuzzy vision, you could still make out the members of Intelligence rushing towards you.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were struggling to say upright long enough for someone to get you away from your captor and the next you could see the wall speeding towards you.

You felt the side of your head smash into a hard surface but before you could register any pain, everything fell black.

~~~

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing that you felt was the pounding coming from your head. As your vision cleared though, you realized that you were in a hospital room.

You had been in hospital rooms plenty of times but it didn't take very long for you to notice that you were in this room as a doctor.

"Hey...you're awake."

You didn't need to see who the voice came from to know that it was Hailey. Slowly, you turned your head and were immediately met with those blue eyes.

"You look like hell," You hoarsely croaked out.

"Right back at you," Hailey tried to keep her tone teasing but you could tell that she was holding back a lot.

You spread your arms, "Come here."

Hailey took your offer immediately, melting into your embrace.

"I'm okay," You whispered, "See, I'm okay."

"I know..." Hailey mumbled into your neck, "I know you are. I know the doctors said you were going to be fine I just-"

A sob interrupted Hailey and she buried her face deeper into your neck while you rubbed her back soothingly.

"I told those men that you would find me," You smiled, "See...I'm right as always."

Hailey let out a watery laugh and sat back up so that she could see your face.

"I'm okay Hailey," You lowered your voice, "You found me...everything is going to be okay."

"You were the one kidnapped," Hailey shook her head, "I should be comforting you."

You reached out to take Hailey's hand, "Well, there's plenty time for that too..."

"I was so worried," Hailey rubbed her eyes, "I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if we didn't find you."

"Hey...hey, look at me," You squeezed Hailey's hand, "That didn't happen. You did find me and I'm okay and we're going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

Hailey nodded, "I know...it's just..."

"It's just what?" You asked softly.

"I...I couldn't remember if I had told you that I loved you back this morning when I left," Hailey bit her lip, "What if we didn't find you? What was the last thing I told you?"

You breathed out, "Hailey...you don't have to worry about that. You found me. I know you love me. We're okay..."

"I-"

"Hailey," You cupped your hands on either side of her face, "Everything's okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[diazboys]

buddie + 26

you could be my smile | buddie + giggling while kissing | ~800 words | ao3

.

Out of the little joys in life, watching Buck is one of Eddie's favourites. Because no matter the situation, Evan Buckley is always a sight. Eddie loves watching him at work, all competent and strong, always with a smile and kind words for everyone as he saves the day. Eddie also loves seeing Buck at the station in between calls, relaxed and content when he's surrounded by his loved ones, joking around and sharing stories. Eddie loves seeing Buck when the other man thinks nobody's watching and lets his guard down, letting all the feelings and worries he tries to hide rise to the surface. It's a weird thing to love, but Eddie is particularly watchful for those moments so he can always help with whatever is troubling Buck. Eddie also loves watching Buck at home, seeing how calm and comfortable he gets in his safe space, the way all of his edges seem to soften. Sometimes Eddie still can't believe that it's his house that brings Buck this sense of security and belonging. There's nothing that makes him happier.

What Eddie also loves is watching Buck being a complete idiot. Like right now. 

It's only a few minutes past 7 on a Sunday morning. After waking up to an empty bed, Eddie finds his way to the kitchen. He isn’t really surprised to see Buck there. The surprising thing is the fact that Buck is currently standing in the middle of the kitchen, moving his hips and arms in an uncontrolled manner. There’s some catchy pop song playing on the radio and while Buck’s moves barely match the rhythm, Eddie assumes that he’s dancing.

And Evan Buckley is a lot of things, but he is definitely not a good dancer.

Eddie gives himself another moment to enjoy the sight in front of him. There's an — thankfully empty — coffee cup in Buck's hand. His hair is still mussed from sleep and he's dressed in a pair of shorts and Eddie's old hoodie — the one that’s stretched and worn out beyond salvation. Eddie was supposed to throw it away on more than one occasion but for some reason, Buck seems to like it a lot and always steals it from the back of Eddie's closet. It’s ridiculous. Eddie has a whole closet full of perfectly good hoodies and jumpers but the ragged thing with holes in it still wins. 

Leaning against the doorframe, Eddie watches Buck. Before he can stop it, a happy, uncontrolled laugh bubbles out of his chest. When has his life become like this?

The sound startles Buck, who turns around in a swift motion. He lights up when he notices Eddie. There's not a hint of embarrassment at being caught on his face. Quite the opposite, since Buck lips curl into a smirk and he moves towards Eddie.

"Good morning," he says, doing a weird wave-like motion with his whole body as he approaches. "You're enjoying the show?"

"Oh, I do," Eddie laughs. "I really, really do."

"Been practicing those moves just for you."

When he's close enough, Eddie reaches to grab Buck's swaying hips and pulls him closer. "Then I'd say you should practice them a bit more."

Another laugh escapes Eddie's lips when he sees the deeply offended look on Buck's face. He tries to soften the offense with a kiss. The only problem is that he’s still giggling too much for that to work, so he ends up pressing his smile against Buck's matching one. 

"I don't think you're an authority here, Diaz," Buck says. If the little kisses he's pressing against Eddie's lips and the way his eyes are shining with happiness are any indication, he's not really mad. "I've seen your dad moves."

"Well, as you said, those are the dad moves. You just haven't seen my other moves. The sexy ones."

"I sense bullshit."

A content smile appears on Eddie’s face as he finally gets a proper good morning kiss. Only then, he leans back a bit and says, “Sense whatever you want, I’m an amazing dancer. I might show you someday, if you're nice.”

‘I’m always nice,” Buck points out. The way he starts kissing down Eddie’s neck is a good argument to support his case. “You’re the one who came here and started laughing at me."

Before Eddie can even think of an answer to that, his left leg is swept from under him and a surprised yelp escapes his mouth as Buck dips him. Seeing the satisfied smirk on Buck’s face, Eddie only rolls his eyes and moves his hands to wrap them around Buck’s neck. With a chuckle, he closes the remaining distance between them.

A few seconds later Buck somehow loses his balance and they both tumble to the ground with a heavy thud.

.

showing affections. kisses

[razorblade180]

Thin Divide: Among Us

Eight people, two imposters. Snuff them out or complete the required tasks. Good luck!

Nora:I call it now, it’s definitely Jaune.

Jaune:You see that make you look suspicious Nora, but that’s so in character of you that I’m pretty sure you’re just a crew mate.

Nora:Maybe that’s the plan? Hehehe.

Weiss:Are you blaming Jaune or incriminating yourself?

Ren:Don’t even. Just don’t, she’s gonna do this the entire game.

Ruby:Alrighty! Let’s do this guys. We have our tasks, just keep an eye out for anything suspicious....

Nora:I’ll be watching Jaune like a hawk! I’ll catch him in the act!

Jaune:This is going to be a long game....

Pyrrha:Or a really short one.

xxxxx

Several minutes pass. Everything seems fine and people are on task. Yet things are a little tense. No one is talking. They’re all learning the rules and being cautious. Nora casually follows Jaune to do wiring and go just about everywhere. She can feel it in her gut. “I’m onto you.” She thinks as he suddenly sprints around a corner out of sight. Suddenly, lights shut off. Things suddenly feel like a bad idea.

Nora:What the!? That’s cheap. Maybe stalking someone alone was a bad idea. Oh! I’ll get Ren t-

xxxxx

Emergency Meeting!

RWBY JPR:Huh?

📢Yang: Oh, so that’s what that button- oh geez, Nora’s dead!

Ren:Wait, what!?

Everyone looks at the character icons to see Nora’s crossed out. Ren goes pale.

Ren:Nora! Who’s responsible for this!? Where was the body found!?

Blake:Nowhere, Yang pressed the button. However....*looks at Jaune* I did see her following you.

Jaune:You know why! I didn’t do it! Ren I did not do it.

Ren:I’ll vote you out right now. Jaune I swear-

Jaune:I just finished doing wires! I’ve been focusing on task and nothing else. Yeah I saw her spy on me, then lights went out. Now we’re here.

Blake:I’m just saying you had all the opportunities to do it. The fact that you’re so offended isn’t helping.

Jaune:We have no proof and you’re suspecting me!

Weiss:You were the one with her.

Pyrrha let’s not jump to conclusions. Someone could be framing him.

Ruby:Where was everyone? I was doing trash.

Blake and Yang:Med bay.

Weiss:This map is confusing. Communications, maybe?

Jaune:No, I was there. Unless there’s another one.

Ren:A room with a tree.

Yang:It’s totally Jaune. He’s alone and already knows the map.

Ruby:I know the map. Weiss is just bad. You’re bad if you don’t know the map!

Yang:I know it.

RWPJ:THEN YOUR POINT MAKES NO SENSE!

Times up. No one voted. Two imposters remain.

Jaune walked back two wards communications. The group had gotten pretty familiar with all the cool things possible. Cameras, vents, everything. This time two people followed Jaune. Yang and Blake. He started sweating.

Yang:Why are universe lady killer? Running out of luck?

Jaune:It’s possible. You two could possibly kill me then cover it up. Do your tasks!

Yang:We were together all the time last round. We’re in the clear.

Blake:It’s you that’s in the hot seat.

xxxxx

Ren:*getting oxygen* Who do you think did it?

Ruby:I don’t wanna point fingers, but Yang would totally thrive in this game. But Weiss is possible too. Stay focused. Killing Nora was to make you stirred up. Keep a cool-

Reactor Meltdown

Ren:That’s not good.

Ruby:You go left, I’ll go right! Be safe!

xxxx

Jaune:I’m going to stop the-

Blake:It’s taking you awhile on that panel Jaune. Don’t tell me you’re stalling?

Jaune:No, I’m just bad! Let me go the reactor or we lose!

Yang:Ooorrr I go. If Blake dies then you’re dead! If you don’t finish that panel-

Jaune:You have 30 seconds!

Yang goes sprinting out of the room. Blake goes to do her task across the room. She’s definitely sure it’s Jaune. This plan is full proof. Yeah if she dies then that would suck but-

Jaune:Ummm why hasn’t anyone stopped the reactor yet?

The counter was already at ten. What was taking Yang so long!? Both ran to the door in a panic to reach the reactor but then-

Report!

Everyone spawned back at the button. Well not everyone. Yang’s named was crossed out, and Ruby had teary eyes with a finger pointed at Weiss.

Ruby:MURDERER!!!

📢Weiss:Ruby it’s not what you think! I-

Ruby:Oh I saw! I saw perfectly! Right on the bridge leading to the reactor panel on the right. You were right over her corpse!

Blake:What!?

Weiss:I know it looks bad, but I found her like this! I run because I saw 1 out of 2 on the panels-

Ren:Me. I was on the other panel. Ruby was with getting oxygen and chose to get the other one.

Ruby:Yeah I wasn’t expecting to walk in on a crime scene.

Weiss:Wait! I was all the way at the bottom of the map. You should’ve gotten there before me.

Blake:Oh now you can read a map!?

Weiss:It takes time! It has to be Ruby.

Ruby:WHAT!?

Pyrrha:I was in electrical by the way. I know nobody was with me but I promise I’m innocent.

RWBR:We know Pyrrha.

Jaune:I don’t think it’s you but the fact you’ve been alone twice now.

Blake:Oh no, you’re definitely still an imposter Jaune.

Ruby:NONE OF THAT MATTERS! I want Weiss out right now!

The reaper puts her vote in.

Weiss:Ruby!

Ruby:Sister killer! You were by yourself too. I know you Weiss, always plotting. I came across a locked door while heading there that slowed me down. Nobody can confirm where you were, and you could’ve easily vented to get where you needed to be. You’re just mad I caught you so you self reported.

Weiss:That’s- I....don’t be a dolt. You all can’t be serious, right?

Pyrrha hugs a crying Ruby while the others have their heart ache at the sight. They all look at Weiss suspiciously, taking the risk to vote. It was unanimous. Weiss was immediately escorted to the air lock, struggling the whole way.

Weiss:You’re being tricked! I’m innocent!!

Ruby:Tell it to the souls you’ve taken.

She was shot into space. All of them watching her drift away. Ruby rubbed her eyes, then gasped.

Weiss was not an imposter. 2 imposters remain.

Ruby slowly backed away towards Ren. Right now, he was the only trustworthy one. Someone’s playing mind games and it’s working two well. Nobody had the chance to get anything done before Jaune presser the emergency button.

Jaune:Okay, we obviously need a minute to reevaluate-

Blake:You’re an imposter!

Jaune:We were in a room together! Why wouldn’t I kill you and vent away. At that point I could’ve made up a story! But no, I just wanna shoot asteroids!

Pyrrha:Fair point, it would’ve been a double kill.

Ruby:All of you look suspicious except for Ren! *votes Jaune*

Pyrrha:Ruby! He only pressed the button to clear the air!

Ren:He did just come up with a good argument.

Blake:I’m voting for Jaune.

Jaune:Well I’m skipping! Pyrrha please skip two before there’s two imposters and two crew mates. This is very bad time to throw caution to the wind.

Pyrrha:I agree. *skips*

Ren:....*skips* If someone dies next round and it isn’t Jaune then it’s definitely Jaune. You’re on thin ice, so are you Pyrrha. You agree with him easily.

Pyrrha:Ren, that’s not suspicious. I do that in real life.

Blake:And he’s using it to his advantage.

Jaune:You’ve been gunning for me since the start basically, even though you were with me. That’s pretty suspicious.

They all went their separate ways except for Ren and Ruby. This was dire. Everyone sounded sketch and friendships were crumbling. Next time for sure, a vote needed to happen. Pyrrha found herself going back near the button whe Jaune came out of a room to the right, alone. Both of them looked at each nervously.

Pyrrha:What are your tasks? I’ve already seen two other people enter that room before?

Jaune:I was checking vitals. We’re all alive and my tasks are done. What are you doing?

Pyrrha:I was gonna call another meeting. Say, are you saying I’ll go in that room right now and we’re fine?

Jaune:There is no body in there. Check for yourself. If I was an imposter then I’d be on cool down. Plus you could report and I’d feel the vaccum of space.

Pyrrha nodded and peeked in. No blood or anything. She went to the vitals to confirm that everyone actually was alive. The imposters must’ve known how risky things are now. It was fine. Tasks were almost done. Jaune was finally looking normal. She breathed a sigh or relief.

Jaune:Don’t tell me you were expecting a body?

Pyrrha:*red* I’m sorry!

Jaune:It happens. Honestly I thought you were about to stab me.

Pyrrha:I don’t like this game. It’s stressful. Doubting my friends isn’t exactly fun.

Jaune:What we need is a trap. A play that leaves Blake and Ruby red handed.

Pyrrha:You think it’s them?

Jaune:It has to be, and I know just the way to check one of them and keep us in the game. Pyrrha, I have a plan....

xxxx

Ruby and Ren watched the cameras in silence. Blake was at the trash while Pyrrha and Jaune were near the button. Ruby looked at Ren and smiled.

Ruby:It’s Blake and Jaune.

Ren:How can you tell?

Ruby:Unless Blake has a similar task, I did trash already. Shall we question her, or wait for actual proof.

Ren:Tasks are almost done. We might be able t-

Reactor Meltdown

Ren:Shit, Pyrrha can’t press the button now.

Ruby:But this also gives us a chance! Imma about to catch them red handed! Ren, stay on cameras and watch me go to the left. That way you can report my body if get killed, or out them if they self report. Jaune’s not dumb. He has to go right in order to act innocent and cancel the meltdown. Pyrrha would catch on otherwise. Especially if Blake goes right and nothing is fixed or they’re both alive. Meaning...

Ren:Blake has to go left or stay where she is.

Ruby and Ren high-five and get to work. Ruby starts sprinting as fast as she can. Ren checks the right side and sure enough, Jaune has a hand on the panel. Blake comes up from the bottom to where Pyrrha is. It would be dangerous if Blake killed her, but then she would definitely get voted out. The faunus slowly gets closer to the red head when suddenly, the cameras get jacked.

Ren:What!?

xxxxx

Pyrrha:Go left!

Blake:Gotcha!

Blake runs to the left to get the other panel. So far so good. Let’s see how right Jaune is. Pyrrha stared at the camera. Strange, she was certain it was on earlier. Now it was off, then flicked back on briefly. Seconds later, the meltdown ended but she didn’t press the button. Not yet. She was told to wait five seconds. In that amount of time, Blake might-

Report!

📢Blake:Guys, Ren is-

RJP:You killed him.

Blake:Wh-What? No, I found him on the ground in the camera room!

Ruby:Yeah, where you killed him. I thought you’d go after me. Sloppy mistake, Blake. Now we caught you.

Jaune:I cut off the meltdown, and Ruby had to get the other one. I found it funny how eager you were to get rid of me by vote. You killed Nora to add to the suspicions. You couldn’t kill me directly because of Yang. She wasn’t an imposter but stuck to you like glue.

Pyrrha:So you had your partner kill her because you couldn’t do it without outing yourself. But if Jaune died alone with you after all that blame then you’d be caught! If you payed attention then you would’ve saw the cameras were on this round. You killed Ren without him noticing then checked them yourself.

Jaune:You soon realized you could only self report because the meltdown ended. No way you could get to the panel that fast unless you vented. Now the real question is how committed are you two bluffing, Ruby Rose? If you don’t vote Blake....

Pyrrha:Then you’re definitely the second imposter.

Blake:Ruby don’t believe them! We know Jaune is definitely-

Ruby:*votes Blake* You betrayed my sister and made me accidentally vote for Weiss because I swept up in emotions. Just like how you got Ren to look at Jaune after Nora died. I’m done with you.

The others voted for Blake. The girl could say nothing. She was at a loss for words. The trap was perfect, calculated to a the last detail. Blake took a deep sigh and walked to the airlock, giving Jaune one final look.

Blake:Well played...

The airlock opened and the three watched their friend get launched into space.

Pyrrha:Jaune that idea was amaz-

Blake was not an imposter.

Pyrrha felt her blood go cold. Those were not the words she wanted to see. She didn’t even turn around to look her “friends” and chose to stare out the window. She felt both of them pat her back. 2 imposters still remained. A problem for her, the remaining crew mate. The sight of Ruby holding a gun and Jaune with a knife was visible in the window reflection.

Ruby:Knife or bullet. You deserve the choice.

Pyrrha:Jaune’s stabbed me in back metaphorically already. Might as well do it physically.

Jaune:That’s fair.

Imposters Win

[post game]

Jaune and Ruby:Oh yeah!!!! That’s why we’re leaders!

Weiss:You can’t say that after killing your teammates!

Nora:I demand an explanation!

Jaune:Ren is too smart and figures things out fast. Had to kill you first anyways. You saying I was an imposter was just an unfortunate coincidence. But let’s talk about how you were my only kill.

Pyrrha:Ruby, you killed everyone else!?

Yang:I walked halfway up that bridge thing to the panel and then she comes running down it and kills me. Now I’m watching as ghost as she jumps into a vent and waits for Weiss to find me to put on the most believable performance of her life. You killed me, then cried about it!

Weiss:I was pleading to a murderer! You put blame on Jaune so he could do it to you and throw the trail off!

Ruby:I also told Ren that it was either you or Yang, that way he’d vote the way I wanted. I think Blake was the real crown of the plan.

Jaune:This is why you don’t blame people so fast. You had to go.

Blake:Ren, what happened to you?

Ren:*face palming*So I was watching everyone until the cameras went out, which I now know was Ruby’s doing, because she had the nerve to kill her camera last. She looked right into it as she jumped into a vent back to me.

Ruby:If you were watching then I knew you were still there and alone. I killed him, took a vent back to where I was supposed to be, stopped the meltdown, and pinned the death of Blake. All with the simple lie about me taking out the trash and not killing Ren earlier.

Jaune:And I used Pyrrha’s trust. Thank you.

Pyrrha:Don’t talk to me! You got me to skip a vote and vote Blake off! Ruby, you cried in my arms! How could you use me like that!?

Jaune and Ruby:Because you’re so helpful! Thanks Pyrrha!

WBYNR:Yeah, thanks Pyrrha.

Pyrrha:*red* I’m sorry!!!

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 7

Pairing - It is still General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner but will eventually switch over to Kaz Brekker x Sun Summoner OC

Summary - Anna is continuing to adjust to her life in the Little Palace and her life and things will continue to pick up once she is presented to the king. She is missing some of the old parts of her life and thinking about it her childhood before crossing the Fold.

Word Count - 2273

-

Anna had been dressed in a First Army uniform that she knew all too well. What she was not used to was the golden veil that was attached to her hat, she had a hard time seeing through it. Something else that was different was her hair that had been tucked into the hat so it wouldn’t be seen. The idea behind it being that Anna would truly be seen for the first time as the Sun Summoner when she pulled her hat off in front of the king. She and Genya were walking to the courtyard where they would meet General Kirigan. He would take Anna over to the Grand Palace for her to be presented in front of Ravkas monarchy and other important people.

“Can you please explain to me again why I have this veil? I just don’t see what purpose it has” Anna said as she touched the veil

Genya tapped Anna's hand to stop playing with the veil “you look fine”

Anna sighed and stopped touching it “um, so I was wondering, is there any way that I might be able to leave the Little Palace? It wouldn’t be for a long time I swear” Anna was starting to feel the effect of being sealed away in the Little Palace and wanting to just get out and possibly see her friends

“But you have everything here that you might need” Genya knew that there was more than just missing a some items, but it was dangerous for Anna to leave the Little Palace

“Yeah, but there are a few things I wasn’t able to get before I was whisked away to the Little Palace” which was true, she had been dragged to the carriage and taken away before she could even think about what was happening “I could go back, get those items and make sure that I stay safe” she also hoped that getting those things would allow her to see Mal and Alina

“What could be so important that you would want to go back there? Plus, you were attacked on the way here, why would you want to risk that?” Genya thought that maybe if it was truly important maybe something could be done, but Anna’s friends would have to wait to see their friend

“I know it's a huge risk.. But it’s my sketchbook, I’ve always had one since I got to the orphanage.. It’s stupid I know, but it’s really important to me” for Anna drawing was very important to her. With it she was able to make new friends while also thinking about her first friend Kaz. In the orphanage, Anna and Alina would draw pictures that reminded her of the places she and Kaz use to draw in the dirt. Ketterdam was not for someone with artistic talents like Anna, but she remembered Kaz supporting her passion. Anna knew that she could never make a career out of drawing; it was always something she used to just escape. Now that she was in the Little Palace Anna needed a little bit of time to escape.

Genya nodded “It’s not stupid, I will see what I can do, now come this way, we don’t want you to be late to meeting the king” she pulled Anna along

Anna smiled a little and started to blow at the veil still trying to make the best of it “now this is fun, I can’t wait to get this thing off” she kept blowing at it

“Stop that!” Genya laughed at Annas antics

Anna laughed, she was having a good time with Genya, they had gotten along from the beginning and it was really nice. With Genya at her side she felt like she had made her first friend in the Little Palace. She knew that friends were probably hard to come by in the Little Palace with everyone being cold stone serious, but Genya was different and Anna loved it.

“Remember, no one can see you until King Pyotr does, I’ve told you this when I was tucking your hair into your hat” Genya said

“I still don’t understand why, it’s not like other people have already seen me before, I am just the supposed Sun Summoner now” before she was a living myth Anna was just a regular map maker, why was it so important now to cover up what she looked like?

“It’s all ceremonial, the King wants to see you, a humble girl taken from the ranks of his army, as if he is taking credit for you” Genya tried to explain

“Yeah.. but still I feel like I should be wearing a kefta or something, not a cleaned First Army Uniform that has never seen a speck of dust ” Anna said

“You’ll get a Kefta once he has seen your power” Genya knew that this was a lot for Anna and was trying to be there for her

“Yesh, that power that I definitely have a full grasp on..” she said sarcastically, Anna just wanted this demonstration to be over with, she wanted to start training right away

“The important people who will be there are King Pyotr, the Queen, Crown Prince Vasily, and the King’s spiritual advisor, the Apparat. He’s a greasy rat, then there will be other Lords and Ladys there close in the kings court” Genya went on but something grabbed Annas attention

They had walked past a library, Anna stopped for a moment to look inside and see the rows of books. When she had been living at the orphanage Anna would read any book she could get her hands on in order to escape the world she lived in. She had also taken interest in books with illustrations, she always enjoyed the prospect of drawing what she was reading. Another escape she had acquired when Anna was taken to the orphanage, with the drawings came the reading.

“Wait, did I just see a library? Please tell me that is available to us” Anna asked really hoping it would be someplace she could visit

“Everything here is available to all of us, General Kirigan built this palace to be a home for us so we could thrive and not have to always look over our shoulder” Genya knew that it had not always been like this, a palace safe space

Anna nodded “has a Grisha ever escaped?” she joked, not being serious

General Kirigan knew she was joking, but decided to approach “does that mean you are going to make a break for it?”

Anna turned around to see General Kirigan “oh, I didn’t mean to, it was just a joke, sorry” she smiled a little and he smiled back

“It’s alright, I know you are still adjusting to life here, it’s good to laugh a little” he wished that sometimes he could smile more and laugh, but he was always serious and take care of everything, the world was on his shoulders

They walked out to the courtyard that connected the Little Palace and the Grand Palace “The royals paid for a palace that looks like crap?” Anna said without thinking “oh my.. I just said that”

General Kirigan chuckled “I couldn’t agree more, I think that the Grand Palace us the ugliest building I have ever seen”

Anna smiled “well that’s good, otherwise I would be questioning your sanity”

General Kirigan looked at her as they walked “I hope the room was to your liking, did you get some rest?”

“Yeah I did, surprisingly, once I was finally able to fall asleep it was probably the best sleep I have had in a while” Anna had gone through so much she had tired herself out, she needed to rest “but now there is this demonstration and I don’t even know how to summon the sun properly.. I am scared that I will fail in front of everyone”

General Kirigan stopped, Anna noticed and faced him, understanding he wanted to have their conversation before entering the Grand Palace. “Remember the promise that I would keep you safe?” Anna nodded, she knew that he would keep his word to her. “During this demonstration, just focus on me and you will be fine, we will get through this together. All of this is for formalities and I promise I will be by your side every step of the way” General Kirigan smiled at her and grasped her hand “we have nothing to fear” Anna felt at ease and her worries had dispersed.

They let go of each others hands and continued on to the Grand Palace “once we sees what you can do then get his blessing, you will remain here to train” General Kirigan said

“His blessing? I know he is the king, but I thought you ruled the Grisha” Anna asked, she knew that there was a lot to learn so she hoped that she wasn’t coming across as stupid

“I only lead the Second Army, the King has the final say in things, but I always make sure that my Grisha have the best and are not held back”

They walked into the Grand Palace, as they walked down the large stairs she looked around at the room filled with people. As Anna and General Kirigan walked to the center of the room, it felt nerve racking, there were so many eyes on her. General Kirigan and Anna both got to the center of the room and bowed to the monarchy. Once everyone was settled in Anna looked over to General Kirigan who nodded to her, she took the hat off allowing her white hair to flow free. The people in the room gasped and began to whisper, the unnatural color catching everyone off guard, this made Anna even more nervous. Eventually everyone became more quiet once the Queen spoke up.

“Your hair color.. I have never seen anything like it before, it’s.. interesting” the Queen said trying to appear as nice

“Thank you, Your Highness” Anna was able to spit out

The Queen continued to look at Anna curiously “what are you?”

Anna was still feeling nervous and looked to General Kirigan pleading for help without saying a word “She is Anna Mizeloph, the Sun Summoner moya tsaritsa and she will change the future. Starting now..”

General Kirigan brought his hands up to call forward the shadows into the room, making it dark. Anna watched as the room was consumed with darkness, she looked to General Kirigan who then faced her.

He gently grasped her hands and put his under hers “now call the sun”

Anna nodded, she brought her hands together beginning to call the light, then she felt General Kirigans hands come under hers and the light moved out completely surrounding the room. She was glowing, feeling every molecule of light and the energy that came with the sun, warmth and power. Anna looked up at General Kirigan and smiled, she felt more like herself than she ever had. In the moment, it felt like it was only them in the room, wanting to get lost in each other but remembering they had an audience. General Kirigan then let go of her hands and the light she had summoned disappeared. Everyone in the room was clapping and cheering, the Sun Summoner had been found and the people could not be happier.

Their transe was broken by the King's standing ovation “Bravo! Bravo! How long will she need?”

“Destroying the Fold will not be easy. She will remain with me in the Little Palace to train.. Undisturbed” General Kirigan wanted to get his point across to the King

The King nodded “Then train her quickly, our wars have been a noble pursuit, but this chatter from the West about becoming a sovereign nation needs to stop. The sooner we are one country again the better”

“Agreed, moi tsar” General Kirigan and Anna bowed and turned around “you were perfect”

Anna smiled “thank you, it felt amazing, I don’t even know where it came from” she was still feeling the joys of using her small science truly for the first time

General Kirigan stopped and looked down at her “it came from everywhere, because you called upon it” he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek “Welcome home, Miss Mizeloph” she blushed a little and smiled watching him walk through the group of Grisha that had gathered around to greet her

One Grisha gave her a hug “it’s such an honor to formally meet you” Anna smiled and saw the Squaller, Zoya approach her

Zoya smiled and hugged Anna “white haired Ketterdam trash” Zoya whispered into her ear

Anna didn’t have enough time to react as Genya grabbed her arm pulling her through

“You are truly one of a kind, the entire country is going to be talking about you now” Genya smiled and pulled her away from the group

Anna walked with Genya back to the Little Palace, she was still in shock, first she had been able to summon the sun. Then after it all, General Kirigan had given her a kiss on the cheek, she touched the place where he had kissed her. She was surprised by it, but it was actually kind of nice, she was feeling so many different emotions. Once they got back to her room there was a blue kefta that had gold embroidering that resembled the spiralling rays of sun. Anna took off her First Army uniform and put her new kefta on, she went over to a mirror and looked at herself, she felt like she finally finding her true home.

-

Author Note - Thank you everyone who has been reblogging my chapters and leaving comments! I really appreciate everyones support in my story! Please feel free to continue leaving comments if you would like to! Also if anyone would like to please feel free to pm me and if you would like to talk I think that would be amazing!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh @herbatkazmilosica

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-10: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

"Put your back against the wall, bend your knees. Feet to the ground, heels up. This will help lessen the impact you're bracing for.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Brother Mao: Do you think my hoodie’s too plain? I think it doesn’t quite highlight my amiableness...

I’d just returned to the office, only to see Brother Mao turning left and right in front of the mirror, observing himself with a deep crease between his brows.

Zheng Lin: It’s just a simple succession ceremony. I’m sure you don’t have to go dressing up like a Christmas tree.

Brother Mao: (Y/n)! Quick, give me your opinion! Do you think I should wear something flashier?

MC: I think you’re pretty good just as you are right now. Is something important going on?

Zheng Lin: It’s the new CEO’s succession ceremony this afternoon. Brother Mao heard that the media was attending and think that he’s not dressed well enough for the cameras.

MC: The new CEO?

Brother Mao: You don’t know!? Looks like it’s time for me, the jack of all trades, master of none, to take the stage once more.

Brother Mao: According to a reliable source of information, this new CEO is Director Lu Ting’s nephew.

Brother Mao: No other details about him could be dug, other than the fact that he’s from the Lu Family. Hell, no one even knows what his full name is!

MC: Huh…

Brother Mao: And judging from your expression, I guess it's safe to say you don't know anything about the Lu Family, don't you?

He got more and more excited as he went on, completely forgetting his prior plan of changing his image. He even brought a chair over, and sat in a manner as if he was doing a storytelling session.

MC: I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me something that only appears in TV Shows…

Brother Mao: This is loads better than a TV Show!

Brother Mao: Last time, it was said that Warson’s original heir was actually Director Lu Ting’s brother! Aka, the new CEO’s father!

Brother Mao: In the end, no one knows what happened, but the position of heir ending up falling to Director Lu Ting.

Brother Mao: To reclaim his family business, this new CEO has been concealing his strength and biding his time overseas, only recently making the return to this country!

Brother Mao: The war between uncle and nephew is imminent, and he went and hired Sariel Qi. Checkmate! The first round's the CEO's win!

Brother Mao: I hear that trying to get him to come out of hiding is as difficult as trying to move Mt. Everest to Guangqi City.

MC: ……

Brother Mao: So, it looks like this new CEO man’s dashing, warm, gentlemanly; and not to mention, extremely capable!

Zheng Lin: Have you seen him before?

Brother Mao: 'Course not! But that's what everyone says.

MC: Isn't the succession ceremony only in the afternoon? Why does everyone know about it already?

Brother Mao: I hear that the new CEO has already been in office since last week, albeit secretly.

Brother Mao: They say that a colleague accidentally ran straight into him while knocking off in the wee hours of the morning and toppled over in her hurry.

Brother Mao: The CEO helped her up and even gave her a band-aid along with a bruises spray.

Brother Mao: And that was when news of him began to spread.

MC: Getting off work in the wee hours of the morning? Now that’s just exaggerating...

Brother Mao: That's beside my point here, missy. I'm talking about the CEO!

Brother Mao: Though, speaking of working overtime… All the breakfast stalls in Guangqi City are already open and ready for business by the time the CEO leaves the office every day.

Both Man’man and I let out shocked noises of disbelief.

He got really into his explanation, but just as he was about to continue… The telephone on Zheng Lin’s desk rang with a shrill cry.

Zheng Lin: Hello, this is Zheng Lin speaking. This afternoon, correct? Yes, that won't be an issue.

Zheng Lin: (Y/n), are you free now? Team A has a meeting slated for the afternoon. Can I leave you to handle the fabric catalogue book?

MC: Of course.

❖☆———————————★❖

Having done the same thing earlier this morning, I was able to pick out the required fabrics a lot faster. Soon enough, I was done.

Ding!

The elevator doors slowly opened. I ran a final check through the catalogue book as I stepped into the lift.

❖☆———————————★❖

??: Which floor are you headed to?

MC: 21st, thank you.

The doors of the elevator slowly closed. I froze, turning my head around in disbelief.

Those eyes, hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, watched me with rapt interest. It was only when our gazes connected that I managed to make out the gentle smile hidden within its depths.

MC: Evan!?

Evan: It's been a long time.

MC: It has. I didn't recognize you at all just now.

Evan: I sure do hope you'll be able to recognize me at first glance next time then.

I nodded, feeling slightly bad for not having recognized him.

MC: Definitely.

Evan: Congratulations on entering Warson.

MC: Thanks. What a coincidence, though. We're now actually colleagues.

Evan: It truly is. You look pretty busy. Have you gotten used to things around here?

MC: I'll get there. How about you?

Evan: I'll be a little busier today since I have to prepare for this afternoon's succession ceremony.

I didn’t expect him to be one of the employees involved in the succession ceremony. I was just about to ask him something when the smile on his face suddenly disappeared.

Bzzt, bzzzzzt!

Loud static noise sounded as the elevator blinked out of life, its screeching akin to countless nails raking across the blackboard.

❖☆———————————★❖

My heart lurched as my eyes immediately flickered to display where the current floor should be showing. It was pitch-black!

Ker-thunk!

The slowly-descending elevator jolted as it began to drop further at an increasingly faster rate.

★Night choice: Attempt to break out

Panicking won’t solve the problem! The most important thing right now is to find a way to save ourselves!

Recalling the emergency measures I’d once seen on the internet in the case of something like this happening, I tried to stabilize myself, ambling towards the panel where all the elevator’s buttons were at.

Evan was already beside me by the time I reached out. We wordlessly understood each other as we stood side-by-side, pressing all the buttons and lighting them up.

He pressed the emergency alarm button right after. However, the alarm that we’d been expecting to hear never came. All that reverberated in the air of this confined space was the deafening roar as the elevator plummeted.

I hesitated for a split second before grabbing onto his hand.

Evan: ……

MC: Don’t panic, Evan!

MC: We just have to put our backs to the wall, bend our knees, and plant our feet on the ground with our heels raised!

MC: We’ll be able to reduce the impact that way! It’ll be alright!

Evan looked at me, the initial surprise colouring his features morphing into a faint smile of understanding.

Evan: Okay.

He stood beside me without any questions, holding tightly onto my hand.

Evan: I’ll listen to you. No panicking.

The lift made another loud thunk the moment the words left his mouth. And after a violent jolt, it… stopped. 

 Red numbers flickered to life on the black display. The lift had stopped on the 11th floor.

MC: Phew… Good that it stopped. Are you okay?

I turned, only to find Evan curiously watching me.

Evan: Can I take it that you were trying to protect me earlier?

MC: It was an emergency, so I…

Our hands were still clasped together. The warmth of a palm pressing against mine made my cheeks flush.

I subconsciously attempted to withdraw my hand, only to realize that I couldn't.

MC: …...?

Evan: We can't be sure that it's completely safe now. The elevator might continue plummeting again at any moment, so let's not let go of each other just yet.

He was right. I nodded and stopped fighting against him. Although, it felt as if my cheeks had just gotten hotter.

Evan used his other hand to retrieve his phone. He tapped the screen.

Evan: There's no mobile signal.

MC: Then let's—

However, before I could finish, the lights within the elevator flickered. Once. Twice. And then, they completely blinked out of life.

My brain had yet to register what happened when suddenly, a surprisingly strong force tugs me over, enveloping me in a protective embrace!

☆Light choice: Yell for help with all your might

Just as your mind blanks out on you, a warm, yet strong hand tugs you over.

Evan: Put your back against the wall, bend your knees. Feet to the ground, heels up. This will help lessen the impact you're bracing for.

Evan: Don't tense up. Relax.

I quickly did as he instructed. Suddenly, I realized that we could have just pressed all the buttons of the elevator to stop its descent. I turned to look at the button panel, only to realize that Evan had long since pressed them all.

He leaned against my frame, still holding onto my hand. His expression was one of utter calmness.

The elevator made a loud noise of protest after a violent jolt as it finally jerked to a halt. The panic I felt from the free-falling weightlessness finally released my heart from its clutches.

Red numbers flickered to life on the black display. The lift had stopped on the 11th floor.

MC: Phew… Thanks.

Evan: You're welcome.

I let go of Evan and looked towards the buttons of the lift.

MC: The elevator has stopped. Let's hurry and contact the people outside.

I pressed the emergency alarm button, but the alarm I was expecting to set off never came. The enclosed space was eerily silent. I took out my phone, but the icon at the top of the screen denoted that there was no signal here.

We had absolutely no way to contact anyone outside. Looks like there’s only one option left…

MC: Evan, let's just directly call for someone outside to help us.

MC: If someone hears us in passing, then they should be able to find a way to get us out of here.

MC: We might not be able to catch anyone’s attention, but it’s still better than doing nothing.

Evan: You make a fine point. Together, then?

MC: Yeah.

Evan: Can anyone hear us!?

MC: Is anyone out there!? Anyone outside!? The elevator broke down!

I didn’t dare to bang on the elevator doors. All I could do was to yell at the top of my lungs, yet… we didn’t receive even the slightest response from the outside.

Despair slowly spreads its tendrils within my heart. I stopped yelling, but just as I was about to think of another way to seek help, the lights within the elevator flickered. Once. Twice.

And then, they completely blinked out of life.

I raised my head, blinking dumbly at it. Suddenly, a surprisingly strong force tugs me over, enveloping me in a protective embrace!

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-8) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-13)

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

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The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Nine: Hunting Season

Sorry for the later than usual update! I personally didn’t like writing this chapter for a variety of reasons (having to use street view on google maps to explore an entire park was one of them). But I hope you enjoy it :) 

As usual, the AO3 link is here. And for those who are new here, this is a Chishiya x OC/reader fic :) 

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The car ride to the game wasn’t ideal. As a group of six people, there wasn’t quite enough room for everyone in the five-seater car. And the result? I was squished in the middle seat at the back, with Chishiya on one side and a couple making out on the other. A woman was sitting on her boyfriend’s lap, their hands roaming freely in the cramped space.

Chishiya paid no attention to them as he rested his head against the window. Personally, I didn’t know where to look. If I kept my head forward, the sight of the road zooming ahead left me feeling queasy. I couldn’t exactly turn to my left and stare openly at the couple. And I definitely couldn’t stare at Chishiya. It was already weird enough that we were crushed up against each other. I could feel his warmth seeping into my skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Somehow, they reminded me that he was real. Cold but human. I found myself wanting to slide even closer.

When did I start feeling comforted by his presence?

It was a thought that scared me, and I must’ve stiffened in my seat because Chishiya suddenly turned to me. I could see him trying to figure out what was wrong, and so I smiled at him innocently. He was either unconvinced, or he no longer cared, because he returned his gaze to the window.

Needless to say, it was a long, long car ride.

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

When the car finally stopped, we were outside the Shinjuku Gyoen National Park, near the Sendagaya gate. Pasted to the windows of the gate office was a white sign.

GAME.

‘Come on,’ Chishiya said as he stepped out of the car.

I joined him, sticking closely by his side as our group passed through the gate. And with the bleep of the lasers, our fate was sealed.

The park seemed to be hesitating somewhere between half-asleep and on the verge of life. Aside from the trudge of our footsteps and the rustle of branches, the place was silent. The path ahead shone grey under the moonlight, and on either side of the path pockets of darkness lurked between trees. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the darkness beneath the foliage, or the exposure of the open flat land just off the path.

We followed the signs that dotted the way, leading us across the bridge over the Nakano-Ike. The water breathed with pond life and the trill of crickets. If not for the game, I would have liked to linger and enjoy the views. As we passed beneath a low-hanging tree, I reached up with one hand and brushed my fingers against the leaves.

The movement caught Chishiya’s eye, and he peered over his shoulder.

‘What?’

As I spoke, a few members of our group jumped, only to mutter and continue walking.

Chishiya, on the other hand, looked at me like I was a misbehaving child. ‘You have a leaf in your hair.’

I combed my fingers through, trying to find it. ‘Where is it?’ When he didn’t reply, I brushed at my hair even further.

‘Idiot,’ Chishiya said.

So he was just joking. What is he, five?

We followed the path along the edge of the Nakano-Ike until we reached the Central Rest House. The entire outdoor seating area was illuminated, and I was surprised to see nine other people, some sitting on picnic chairs, others leaning against the walls. One man was inspecting the empty food stall. On one of the picnic tables was a pile of phones, and we passed them around, taking one each.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

The others in our group drifted apart from me and Chishiya. The couple remained together, holding hands as they comforted each other, but remaining two members separated. It just proved that despite the Beach giving you the advantage of a group, it didn’t mean you were truly a team.

And Chishiya, does he plan on completing this game by himself?

He was certainly the type to wander off on his own. But inside, I wished that wasn’t the case this time; I didn’t want to play this game alone. Even now, he was leaning against a wooden pillar, his back to me.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

Sighing, I listened in closely. If I was playing this alone, I couldn’t rely on him to talk me through the rules I might have missed.

‘GAME – HUNTING SEASON

DIFFICULTY – TWO OF SPADES

TIME LIMIT – ONE HOUR.’

Two of Spades. That wasn’t so bad. And an hour was a pretty generous time limit.

‘RULES –

ESCAPE THE PARK WITHOUT BEING CAUGHT BY THE HUNTERS.

IF YOU ARE CAUGHT, IT IS GAME OVER.

GAME START.’

All at once, the lights shut off and the place went silent. Everyone was glancing around, uncertain, and for a moment it was almost as if the game hadn’t begun. That was, until the man next to the food stall silently dropped to the ground, a bullet hole between his eyes.

For half a second, I stared at the body, mouth open. Then something snapped and the whole group of us scarpered out in every direction.

Run, run run!

I sprinted into the trees at the back of the rest house, stumbling around in the silence. There were branches and bushes all around, but nothing with nearly enough cover. And everywhere I looked, the darkness started to shift, morphing into faces—

A hand clamped over my mouth.

I struggled, breathing hard over my nose. My fingers tried to rip their hand away, but the person wrapped their other arm across my waist, pulling me closer until I felt his breath tickle my hair.  

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

Chishiya.

Instantly, I relaxed. How many times now had he surprised me by coming to my aid?

Still holding me tightly, he whispered again. ‘You need to stop running around so loudly. You’re going to give us away.’

Beneath his hand, I nodded in understanding. The moment stretched before he finally released me, his hands returning to his pockets while I took a minute to steady my breathing. My half-healed bullet wound was stinging from where he had grabbed me too tightly, and I wanted to snap at him for it, but it wasn’t the right time or place. The game took priority. There was no way of knowing who the hunters were or what they looked like, so we had to be as vigilant as possible.

‘We should find somewhere else before we come up with a plan,’ I whispered. ‘This area’s the first place they’ll look.’

He nodded, then gestured for me to follow him. We stuck to the trees between the paths, keeping low and creeping slowly to avoid leaving tracks, until eventually we came to a tea house. The traditional Japanese gardens at the front were far too open and uncovered, but the thick foliage behind the tea house offered the perfect amount of cover.

‘Over here,’ I mouthed to Chishiya, and snuck into the bushes.

It was disconcertingly dark. And all I could hear was the rustle of birds and Chishiya’s slight movements.

‘How come you came after me?’ I asked.

‘Don’t you want to make an escape plan?’

‘I do,’ I told him, ‘but I also didn’t know you wanted to work together. You didn’t tell me anything.’

He released a small huff of annoyance. ‘I shouldn’t have had to tell you that. We made a deal.’

A deal to take me to find supplies afterwards. I can’t believe he’s still honouring that.

‘I know, I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘It’s just that you really caught me by surprise before.’ Squinting, I tried to figure out which direction we should head in. There was small sign just next to the path, but in the darkness, it was impossible to make out what it said. Turning back to Chishiya, I asked, ‘do you know your way around the park?’

‘I’ve been here once or twice.’

‘Okay… that makes things easier. I was going to ask which entry gate is smallest, but I think it’s better to assume none of them are safe. The hunters will probably be waiting there.’

Chishiya thought for a moment. ‘If this is one of the teahouses, it means we’re not too far from the edge of the park.’

‘Which way do we go then?’

‘West.’

That’s…not helpful. Not even a bit.

‘Chishiya, I have no idea where we are right now,’ I said, frustrated, ‘let alone which direction is West.’

‘Ch, you’re hopeless.’ He pulled out his phone and checked the time. We still had 40 minutes left. He slid it back into his pocket and sighed. ‘Let’s go. But be quiet and stay out of sight.’

We slipped around the back of the treehouse, sticking to the lines of trees between and on either side of the paths. It was strange that we had yet to come across one of the hunters, but I didn’t doubt for a moment that they were prowling the park somewhere. The man back at the Central Rest House had been shot so precisely – a perfect aim, even from far away – and none of us had seen it coming. And judging by the lack of sound from the shot, the hunters were carrying silencers too.

Although I could see his silhouette in front of me, I was a little worried that I would end up losing Chishiya in the darkness. Even though he only looked out for himself, I felt safer around him, like he would always come up with a solution to any game, no matter how difficult.

Every time we came to a crossroads where the paths intersected, it became a challenge to stay covered, especially as the trees grew sparser, leaving us completely exposed.

We passed by a second teahouse, this one surrounded by wide open paths – a death trap. Chishiya raised two fingers, a gesture to follow his lead. A second later, he sprinted across the open intersection, disappearing into the foliage on the other side.

You’ve got to be kidding.

Listening carefully for footsteps, or any sign that we weren’t alone, I took a breath, then ran.

But nothing happened.

I found Chishiya, reaching him without so much as a scratch. It was like there weren’t enough hunters in the park to justify this being a game.

‘How come we haven’t seen one of the hunters yet?’ I whispered.

He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. There’s probably a good reason.’

Following the path further, it quickly became apparent that we were stuck. On one side of us was a bridge over a large pond, and on the other was an open walkway that stretched on farther than I could see.

Chishiya analysed the situation for a moment. ‘Can you swim?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘But we can’t swim across that whole pond, we’ll be seen for miles.’

He smirked. ‘Not the whole pond.’

And that was how I found myself treading water, neck-deep, as we crept along the bank. The water was freezing, and the cold hit my lungs in a dull ache that left me almost breathless.

And what’s worse, the phones didn’t have waterproof cases, so we had to hold them in the air with one hand while paddling with the other. It was agony, suspending my bandaged arm above the pond water for such a long time, and all I could think about was how if there was a hunter on the other side, we’d be such easy prey. The pond seemed to stretch on forever, but once we passed beneath a large footbridge, the end was finally in sight.

Ahead of me, Chishiya used the shadows of the bridge to pull himself out of the water and onto a rocky bank. He bent low, extending a hand to help me out of the water. A voice in the back of my head told me not to take his hand, that I could do it myself. But I was too tired to care. I saw his eyes scan over me once, his gaze lingering on the now drenched hoodie.

‘Let’s get through this and I’ll replace it, I swear,’ I told him.

‘I’m not sure you can’ he said, unimpressed. ‘I want that one back’

I folded my arms, huddled against the cold of my wet clothes. ‘You just have to be that difficult, don’t you?’ Then my eye caught the apex of trees ahead of us. ‘Where are we?’

‘We’re coming up to the Mother and Child forest,’ he said. ‘We’re not far from the edge of the park.’

Shivering in my shorts, I held up my phone. We had just 25 minutes left.

‘Are we going into the Mother and Child forest?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not much of a forest. It’s too exposed.’

Without speaking, Chishiya led the way forward. Here, the paths were wide and open, but sheltered by a canopy of tall trees that protruded from steep banks. There was a long path to our left, with wire fencing on either side of the banks, presumably to keep park goers from doing what we were doing now.

We moved away from the paths and deeper into the trees. Here, it was much, much darker, and I could barely see where I was stepping—

Chishiya’s hand grabbed my hood, jerking me back until I was leaning against his chest. Heart racing, I flinched when his voice came in a close whisper.

‘Look down.’

Lowering my eyes to the ground, I had to squint before I could see it. The blackened metal gleamed faintly in the moonlight, spikes protruding out of the ground like a grotesque crown.

‘A bear trap,’ I breathed. ‘That’s why we haven’t seen any hunters. They’re staying around the edges of the par—’

His hand clamped over my mouth. I squirmed, only for his other arm to wrap around my upper body as he tugged me behind a tree and pulled me to the ground. The position was uncomfortable, with me sitting between his legs, my face pressed into the junction between his neck and his collarbone.

What the hell is he doing?

And then I hear the footsteps.

It was a steady crunch… an occasional snap… careful and methodical, and slowly moving closer.

I stilled in Chishiya’s arms, focusing solely on the sound of the footsteps and the feeling of Chishiya’s calm breaths as they gently skimmed the exposed skin of my neck. If it weren’t for the fear of the situation, I would’ve found our position strangely intimate. With my head against his collarbone, I could feel the steady beat of his heart… except it wasn’t steady. It was beating ever so slightly fast.

Is he… nervous? Chishiya gets nervous?

The thought was instantly pushed from my mind as we finally caught sight of it.

The hunter.

They were dressed head to toe in camo, their heavy black boots glistening even in the dark. Covering their entire face and neck was a black wolf mask, the two eye holes gaping open, but revealing nothing of the person inside. And in their hands, they were holding a large gun with a silencer attached.

The hunter turned, peering in all directions.

I felt Chishiya’s hands tense around me, gripping harder. I wanted to tell him that he was crushing my still-injured arm, that I wasn’t going to make a noise, that he didn’t need to warn me like this. But of course, I couldn’t. I gritted my teeth through the pain.

The hunter looked in our direction.

I held my breath.

Don’t move. Don’t blink.

Then he turned away, and I relaxed, as did Chishiya’s bruising hold. There was a crunch of leaves as the hunter crouched down to inspect the untriggered bear trap… and then nothing.

Just like that, he was gone.

For a full minute, neither of us moved. Until slowly, almost uncertainly, Chishiya’s hands fell away. I took my cue and shifted, giving him room to stand before doing the same. This time, he didn’t help me up, choosing instead to saunter through the trees.

I had no choice but to follow, but I decided that if we got out of this place, I’d have to thank him for saving my skin twice in a row… right after slapping him for that bone-crushing warning he did. The half-healed wound in my arm was probably bleeding again now.

Taking out time to avoid making noise, we snuck down the treeline that followed the path. I was worried we were running out of time, and I wanted to check my phone, but the light of the screen would be too risky. If I were to estimate, we probably had about twelve or so minutes left.

On the way, Chishiya and I scanned the ground for more surprises. So far, we avoided several leg-hold traps and at one point, I grabbed Chishiya and pulled him back, stopping him from walking straight into a snare. He didn’t seem too bothered by the near-miss as he shrugged out of my hands.

Eventually, we came to a final intersection. The path we’d been following joined a longer one that stretched all across the park. On the other side of the intersection, up the bank and beyond foliage, I could see the tall metal of a fence.

There it is! My eyes dropped to the large open space where the paths met. There’s no way we can cross this.

Chishiya placidly looked around, as if trying to find some other way of getting across. But there wasn’t one. For the first time since our run-in with the hunter, he looked at me. Raising three fingers, he mouthed ‘on three’.

We’re not going to… he doesn’t mean…

He lowered a finger.

I shook my head. There had to be another way. There had to be.

But there’s no time…

He lowered a second finger.

I took one step back, preparing myself. I didn’t know if this was a trap, or if Chishiya was going to use me as a decoy. But my gut instinct told me to trust him.

He lowered his third finger… and we ran.

Together we shot down the bank, leaping over the metal wiring at the bottom. I felt the bullets shoot across my skin, missing me by centimetres. They were surrounding us from every direction. We’d been cornered.

But I ran. I ran. And I stared at that tall dark fence in the distance as I leapt over the wire and jumped onto the bank. The bullets kept coming, one whipping through my loose hair. The tall fence was closer now, growing bigger with every step, but I couldn’t stop.

‘Climb,’ I heard Chishiya huff.

Jumping at the fence, I tugged my feet up and clambered my way to the top. Now, the bullets were clanging against the metal, the force shaking the structure. I caught sight of a wolf mask hidden between two trees, and instinctively threw myself over the edge, my stomach grazing the metal spikes that lined the top.

My body hit the ground with a thud, but the bullets continued to ricochet.

I’m out of the park. I escaped, right?

There was a flash of white and a pained grunt, before Chishiya landed on top of me, his weight knocking the air from my lungs. I felt him gasp from the impact, right as the bullets stopped. All was silent.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

He didn’t move at first, then as if remembering where he was, he pulled away from me and sat up on the grass.

I lay there, cold, wet and exhausted. We did it.

Not bad for a girl who’s terrible at Spades.

Rolling over, I turned to… Chishiya?

He had unzipped his hoodie, revealing both his toned chest and a bleeding wound in his side. His fingers lightly touched the area as he inspected it. Catching sight of my expression, he zipped his hoodie back up, eyes cold.

‘Are you okay?’

He got to his feet and pulled his hood over his head. ‘It’s nothing.’

Standing up, I tried to reach out to see, but he took a step back. He was wearing the same, distant expression he always had.  

‘Did they get you?’ I asked. The white of his hoodie had become spotted with red over his injury. ‘We should go back to the Beach. I wonder where the others are.’

‘I haven’t been shot,’ he said, dismissive. ‘It was the fence.’  

My eyes darted to the metal spikes, the pinpoints shining under the dull light. Even though he was playing it off, it could still get infected. And it must’ve hurt, despite how cavalier his reaction was. The thought disturbed me. Even though I knew Chishiya was only human, he seemed untouchable somehow.

‘We should still head back,’ I insisted. ‘An could take a look at it—’

Then he uttered my name. It was the first time he’d ever spoken it before, and the way it rolled off his tongue sent goosepimples along my skin. And in a tone that left no room for argument, he said, ‘we made a deal.’

The words crushed me one by one. He was willing to put up with an injury for the sake of a stupid deal I made with him. I just didn’t understand why. But it made me wonder whether there was more to Chishiya than he let on, whether he did have a sliver of a heart buried somewhere.  

Giving me one last glance, he muttered, ‘let’s go.’ Then he turned and began walking away from the park.

I stared at the back of his hood, and the small red patch on his hoodie. And it was then that I finally understood something. Whatever I felt for this man, it was no longer hatred.

[jenoptimist]

request:

Can you maybe write something with Jeno? 🥺🦋

✮ Pairing: jeno x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fantasy (magic) | fluff | royalty!au

✮ Additional info: temporary memory loss

✮ Word count: 5.4k

♡ Yakult says: [yakult stop including magic in your fics challenge] = ❌FAILED❌ like ?? why is that my default setting 💀💀💀 bUt anyways hope u enjoy this fic !! thanks for requesting ☺️💙

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When Donghyuck burst through the door, all but sprinting towards Mark, you remained unphased as it was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a habit of his, one that was usually accompanied by the two of them greeting each other with that complicated handshake of theirs. You paid no mind as the sound of their hands slapping against one another echoed throughout the room, continuing to scribble your input here and there on the document that needed to be completed by tomorrow evening. The lack of exciting chatter was odd but overall unconcerning so you kept your head down and kept working, leaving the two of them to whisper to themselves.

“Dude you lost him?!” Mark exclaimed suddenly, the harsh sound of his chair being scraped back accompanying his loud voice. That had you dropping your pen as you raised your head, interested in the conversation that was beginning to unfold in front of you. Donghyuck was assigned to guard the prince for the day so to hear that he lost him didn’t bode well to say the least.

The royal guard winced as he sucked a breath through his teeth. “That makes the situation sound completely terrible! It’s not that I lost him,” he paused for a second, head slightly tilted to the side as he scratched at his red hair, “he just, y’know, disappeared from my line of sight?”

“Disappeared from– Dude!”

“I know! I’m sorry! Oh my gosh what do you think they’re going to do to me? If they fire me nobody is going to want to hire me ever again! I’m doomed!” Donghyuck spoke rapidly, pacing back and forth. “What am I going to do?”

“Look for him?” You suggested unhelpfully from where you sat, dropping your pen on the table so that you could lean on the back of your chair and cross your arms against your chest. Donghyuck stopped in his tracks in favor of shooting you a deadpan look, clearly unamused by the way his eyebrows were raised slightly. Mark shook his head encasing his forehead in his fingers.

“Oh wow y/n you’re a genius! Why didn’t I think of that? No wait, I did.” Donghyuck snarked, still staring at you unamusedly. “Of course I looked! I checked the library, his reading nook and even the kitchens! Jaemin was definitely suspicious of me and I had to come up with some lame excuse as to why the prince wasn’t glued to my side.” With that, he dropped onto the chair that Mark previously occupied and groaned loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Doyoung is going to kill me!” An exaggeration that statement might have been but everyone in the castle knew that Prince Jeno was the falconer’s favorite—regardless of the fact that he was a royal. Doyoung definitely would be both incredibly concerned and furious at the knowledge that the prince was missing.

Empathising with the panic he felt, you capped your pen and stood up. “We have no choice but to keep looking, c’mon it’ll be quicker with the three of us.” Donghyuck’s head snapped towards you, his eyes practically gleaming with hope and adoration, while Mark remained silent as stared at the ground in contemplation.

“I don’t think we’ll need to look that hard,” Mark said finally, after a couple of more minutes wearing a hole into the hardwood floor with that stare of his. “Have you tried asking Renjun and Chenle for special help?”

The practice of magic wasn’t abolished in this kingdom unlike in others however usage of it wasn’t actively encouraged, either. It was a safe space of sorts, so long as you retrieved a license that could only be granted by the monarchy. A magic license would only be given when an oath promising not to use magic for evil was recited. Renjun and Chenle were two of the best magic users around so Mark’s suggestion would surely bring the search for the prince to a speedy end.

“No, I thought I wouldn’t have to resort to it.” Donghyuck answered truthfully, gnawing at his already swollen bottom lip. Mark hummed in reply, as if he had already uncovered the answer but needed it to be confirmed.

“Alright then,” you said as you shrugged on your long, nude trench coat. “Let’s go visit them.”

Renjun and Chenle resided furthest from the castle, in between where the border of the kingdom met the forest. They lived in a stone cottage that had a cute little pond with koi fish at the front and a neat garden of various flowers and herbs on the side. You made a game of hopping on every other stepping stone that lead up to their house in a zigzag pattern while Mark and Donghyuck followed closely behind you, not even an arm’s length away.

The door opened before one of you could even knock. Chenle’s knowing smile greeted you, backing up to allow the three of you to enter. The four of you traded pleasantries as Chenle lead you to to the furthest room past the living room and kitchen. Renjun was already there, reading a book as he leaned on the wall where the window was allowing warm sunlight into the room. There were shelves that had jars containing several liquids of various colors—some even had objects and/or plants in them. In the centre of the room, there was heap of items on an uneven oak table in the middle of the room. How the objects didn’t fall off of the table was a mystery but you have never been one to question the way of the witches.

“How did you know we were coming to see you?” asked Donghyuck, who apparently didn’t share the sentiment as you. Renjun placed his book on the shelf so that he could help Chenle arrange the map, crystals and candle neatly on the table in a position that you were sure meant something significant.

“A witch never reveals their secret.” Chenle replied, glancing back to show a smile full of serenity. You exchanged looks with Donghyuck and Mark, shrugging at them before returning your gaze ahead of you.

“We need something of the prince,” Renjun said once he was satisfied with the placements of the crystals. He turned to face the three of you expectantly while Chenle moved the candle left and right, trying to centre it as he hummed a low tune to himself. The three of you must have made faces of despair or something similar because Renjun quickly added, “it doesn’t need to be his, exactly. It can be something that he gave you.”

Donghuck and Mark checked every single one of their pockets and then turned to you when they came up with nothing. The dainty silver chain around your neck felt as if it were extremely heavy at that moment, especially the ring that hung from it that laid warmly on your chest. It was a gift from Jeno on your birthday last year - he gave you the box with a shy smile, shifting from foot to foot as you opened it - and while you deeply treasured it, you treasured the man who gave it to you even more. With that in mind, your arms reached up to unclasp the necklace and held it tightly when you successfully removed it.

“I’ll get it back, right?” The hesitance in your voice was unwelcome but you had to be sure—what if they were going to burn it into ash using the candle? It wouldn’t be a point of concern had it been any other situation because you knew that the ring and chain were forged of precious material, but they had magic.

Renjun nodded, the corner his mouth quirked into a smile as if he could read your thoughts. You could feel the intense stares of your friends burning into the side of your head but you refused to look their way. Instead you focused on Renjun and Chenle in front of you, who made quick work of completing the necessary spell. When your necklace hovered on a certain area of the map, it was obvious that Jeno’s location was found. Chenle marked it by placing one of the crystals that was used to hold down the corners of the map which allowed Renjun to return your necklace. You immediately clasped it around your neck and hid it underneath your top.

“Thank you for your help.” Mark smiled after Jeno’s location was ingrained inside of your minds. He then fished through his pockets and handed them some money, quickly dropping it onto the table when the pair refused. At your side, Donghyuck was practically vibrating with the need to leave. You shared the feeling. Who knew how long the prince would be in that section of the forest for?

“That ring,” Donghyuck started once the three of you had started briskly making your way to the opposite direction of Chenle and Renjun’s cottage. There was a fusion of amusement and teasing in his tone and you already knew that you wouldn’t like where he was going to lead the conversation. “When did he give it to you? Did he finally get his act together propose?”

You and Mark answered at the same time.

“It was a birthday gift.”

“Get his act together? Dude, they aren’t even dating yet.”

You looked at Mark incredulously. ‘Yet?’ You wanted to ask but Donghyuck beat you to it, piping up before you could utter the word. “But you want him to propose, don’t you y/n?” He said it with a playful grin aimed at you and then laughed as he swooped around you, successfully dodging your attempt to shove him.

“Why would I date him?” You muttered as you pursed your lips, jamming your hands into the pockets of your trench coat. “Me and him,” you trailed off, frowning at the ground, “we aren’t like that.” You weren’t. Although being married to Jeno and spending the rest of your lives together wouldn’t necessarily be the end of the world in your book. There was no harm in dreaming, though.

“We aren’t like that.” Donghyuck mimicked, his voice annoyingly high pitched. Mark snorted. “Right, okay. Let’s pretend both of us believe you.”

You remained silent for a moment as you thought of the private, saccharine smiles that you and Jeno shared when the two of you were on opposite ends of a room, of how you could always spot him among a sea of people without fail, of how the two of you gravited towards each other and lastly, you thought of how he made your heart race and how you desperately hoped that you had the same effect on him, too.

“Alright, so maybe we are like that.” You admitted in defeat, your shoulders lifting to touch your ear lobes. “But–” You stopped yourself, tilting your head when you heard a gruff voice ahead of you which was loud enough to reach your current position.

“Keep searching. He’s gotta have more than that.”

The voice made your gut churn horribly. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, you were running towards the direction of the voice. Selfish as it was, you hoped that he wasn’t speaking to Jeno. Of course your hope had been for nothing because when you approached them, Jeno was trapped by a woman holding both of his arms behind him while the man stood in front. Jeno looked physically unharmed, the clothes that he used when he wanted to pretend to be an ordinary person soiled with mud and rips. The woman noticed you immediately and jutted her chin in your direction. The man turned and folded his arms across his chest as his hard gaze landed on you. You were not going to be intimidated by his bulging muscles and towering height. You weren’t. Not when Jeno, your dearest friend and prince of the kingdom, was in danger.

You stood taller, arched a brow and mirrored his position. “Just what do you think you’re doing to my husband?”

And wait what. You didn’t know what you would have said but it certainly wasn’t that. By some miracle they didn’t notice your stance shift once the statement left your lips. Instead the man very pointedly stared at your left finger, where there was an obvious lack of a wedding ring. You sighed internally, the words were already said so you might as well go along with it. For the second time that day, you showed your necklace. You didn’t unclasp it, just untucked it from your top and showed them as proof.

“He isn’t wearing his ring.” The woman noted observantly, tightening her grip on Jeno clear by the way he groaned and clenched his jaw. You met his eyes as your brain scrambled for a logical answer. He shook his head at you, urgency written in his eyes, as if that would make you turn and leave.

“He’s a blacksmith.” Mark’s voice rang out, saving you from potentially making the situation worse than it already was. He used that authorative tone of his, the one that he rarely used, and you were completely thankful for how confident he sounded when he said the lie.

Donghyuck marched toward the man. “Leave our friend be and you can have that.” He gestured a hand to Mark who, without a doubt, probably had money or something considered valuable in his grasp.

Your gaze slid from Donghyuck to Jeno, whose eyes were focused on your firm. “You’ll be okay, I swear.” You mouthed. Despite his uncomfortable position, he managed a minute nod and a hint of a smile.

The was a tense energy as the woman and Mark stepped forward, her accomplice and Donghyuck eyes set on each other’s companions. You kept your gaze soley on Jeno, prepared to intervene if necessary—three, possibly four, against two would be feasible, there is power in numbers after all. When the exchange was over, the two fled which left Jeno stumbling onto the ground when the hold on him was released. You moved instinctively, approaching the prince just as he got pulled up by the combined effort of Donghyuck and Mark.

As Jeno brushed excess dirt off of him, Donghyuck tutted. “This is why you don’t go running off,” he started, you traded a look with Mark behind his back, knowing that the guard wouldn’t stop until he got everything he wanted to say off his chest. “Imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t found you in time! By the Gods. . .” while he continued to prattle on, his tone laced with both frustration and concern, you kept your eyes on Jeno, occasionally making silly faces with Mark. The prince would return your stare when Donghyuck’s eyes would stray away from him. Well acquainted with Donghyuck’s lectures, you knew that he was almost finished with the way that his toned and posture softened, the way there was increased pauses in his speech. Although Jeno looked thoroughly reprimanded, he didn’t look too upset. Rather he seemed entirely touched with the amount of care he found in Donghyuck. “But,” the red head finally sighed, clapping the prince’s right shoulder, “I can say with confidence that the three of us are glad you’re alright.”

Both Mark and you nodded with feeling. “The King and Queen would have had our heads, as well as the Crown Princess and Doyoung.” Mark added.

Briefly, you imagined Doyoung’s glare - he was rarely angry, more inclined to become irritated, but when he was it was scary - and shuddered, internally agreeing with Mark’s statement. The churning in your stomach returned when you caught the confused expression displayed on the prince’s face. Neither Donghyuck or Mark seemed to have noticed yet, occupied in their current conversation about how the four of you would sneak into the castle without being seen in hushed voices.

Jeno shuffled towards you and then stood barely an arm’s width away in front of you. Then, much to your suprise, he took his hand in yours. The warmth of his hand contrasted with yours although you knew that would change soon. In a few minutes your hands would become clammy with nerves. It was only simple hand holding and it shouldn’t have made your heart begin to beat faster, shouldn’t have made the unease slowly slip away, but the matter was out of your control. The two of you didn’t hold hands, ever. The closest thing that came to it was when your knuckles knocked against each other as you walked side by side on your nightly strolls. During those strolls you often thought about how easy it would be to take his hand in yours, just like he did a few moments ago, and swing your interlocked hands lightly in between your bodies.

“Why would the monarchy and, uh,”–your heart immediately dropped into your stomach, disliking the direction his question was headed–“Doyoung have your heads?” He lifted his eyes from the ground to meet yours, his head tilted. “Am I their personal blacksmith or something?” Your eyes widened and you swallowed thickly as you looked at your interlocked hands and back to his eyes repeatedly. What did they do to him? They must have done something. Jeno wasn’t joking, not one bit; how could he be when he looked genuinely confused. He shook his head, the confusion melting into a much softer, sweeter expression. “Can we go home now,” he raised your interlocked hands to his lips and softly pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “Please?”

“Guys,” you said, alerting the others while you tried for a warm smile. “Guys!” You repeated louder when they continued to talk. “We need to Renjun and Chenle.” You told them seriously once you finally captured their attention. Their gazes darted down to your hands before they shot up and looked back and forth from you to Jeno. Without so much as a blink, their expressions morphed from bewilderment to amusement and then went back to bewilderment before settling onto concern, no doubt seeing the alarm in your expression. With a firm nod of their heads, they made their way to the two of you and then waited for you to start walking, eyeing the prince curiously as they did.

If Jeno was confused again, he said nothing. Instead he just continued to smile adoringly at you, his eyes folding into pretty crescents, and kept your hand in his as the four of you turned and headed to the direction of the small, stone cottage.

*

“It’s nothing but a cheap trick,” Renjun deducted while Chenle kept Jeno company on the other side of the room, sipping on some tea as they chatted away. “It should wear off in a couple of hours. If not, it’ll definitely be gone by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh thank the Gods.” Donghyuck mumbled under his breath. Mark sagged in relief.

“You really can’t whip up something that he can eat or drink to make him remember?” You inquired as you chewed on your bottom lip. Jeno still thought that the two of you were together—married to each other. It was entirely your fault but it wasn’t as if you had expected him to temporarily lose his memory when you blurted that out! If you could go back in time and change it, you would. You snuck a glance at him and before you could look away, he caught your eye and smiled as he nodded to whatever Chenle was saying.

“Unfortunately, no.” Renjun replied. “Even though it’s a cheap trick, memories are never something to be tampered with. So if we try to retore his memories, there’s a huge risk of him completely losing them or possibly, something even worse could happen to him. So with that in mind, it’s best to leave it be.” He smiled apologetically, rubbing the space between your shoulder blades in consolation. You managed a weak smile at him in return. “I’ll leave the three of you to plan then?” Mark gave him an affirmative and after another chorus of thanks, he joined Chenle and Jeno. The three of you huddled closely together, arms around each other’s shoulders with your heads ducked, so that you could think of a plan.

“Can’t we just tell the truth?” You whispered, “I’m sure if there’s a punishment, it won’t be that bad. Jeno is completely safe and you two are part of the Queen’s favorites.”

“No,” Donhyuck rebuffed, “even if he is safe and we’re her favorites, he’s still her son. I can’t see us getting away that easily.”

Mark sighed. “Hyuck is right, y/n. I think the best thing to do is to tell them that he’s decided to sleep in Jaemin’s or Jisung’s place. But he won’t be with them obviously, he’ll be with you. Hyuck and I can fill them in on what’s happening since they’re bound to find out anyway.”

Just as you were about to ask why it had to be you that he stayed with, the man of the hour spoke, startling the three of you out of your huddle. Jeno requested to go home again, looking at you imploringly with those puppy eyes of his. You quickly exchanged glances with Mark and Donghyuck, who were both silently pleading at you, before nodding at Jeno. The prince sought out your hand and you allowed him to keep hold of it as you strolled out of the cottage, Mark and Donghyuck hot on your heels.

“We’re lucky none of the citizens knows what he looks like,” you heard Mark say as Jeno relayed his conversation with Renjun and Chenle to you, “or else this would have been really bad.”

It was a short trip back to the city that consisted of nonstop chatter from Jeno. Donghyuck and Mark went along with you to your house, which was situated behind the lucious gardens of the palace. Fortunately, nobody had spotted the four of you. You could only imagine what sort of gossip would stir between the employees if they had seen the two of you holding hands. Donghyuck and Mark looked like your chaperones for Gods’ sake, especially with the way the trailed you at a distance.

“I can start on dinner while you shower and change,” you said after locking the door.

Jeno was looking around the room. It was a mess; the floor was unswept, there were sheets scattered around your coffee table and the cushions for your couch were squashed because you didn’t have time to fluff them this morning. There were also mugs in random places. You apologized for the mess but he waved you off, walking towards the kitchen where there was a short stack of books that laid on the small dining table. Jeno had brought those when he visited the previous night, raving about them to you and offered to read them together.

“It’s really cozy here,” Jeno commented before turning back to face you. “I love it.” The words were so sincere that you almost had to look away from him, unable to meet his eyes when you had yet to tell him the truth about the entire situation. Instead you smiled and directed him to your bedroom - where he thankfully had a drawer of spare clothes - and the bathroom so that he could freshen up while you cooked dinner.

Dinner mainly involved Jeno asking you questions which, fortunately, didn’t include your relationship. When the meal ended, the two of you continued to sit at the table but remained silent. It was clear that Jeno wanted to say something to you. He was fiddling with the cutlery, his stare directed at a spot on the table and you were content with sipping on your water while you waited for him to speak up.

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” He finally said quietly, his eyes slowly meeting yours. You almost choked on your water and you at him with wide eyes as he continued. “Whatever it is,” he said while he scanned your face, “we’ll be okay, won’t we? We will be and even. . . even if we won’t be, if I don’t go back to how I was”–he stared into your eyes, his tone incredibly sincere–“I promise I love you. And I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”

Your breath caught in your throat while Jeno stared at you pleadingly, as if he couldn’t bear it if you were to leave him. That was when you knew you couldn’t leave him in the dark anymore. He thought he loved you and that you were married and you couldn’t continue allowing him to believe that lie. Not when he was looking at you like that.

“You’re the prince, not a blacksmith,” you stated in a rush, placing your cup onto the table, no longer able to contain the truth. “This morning Donghyuck was supposed to keep an eye on you because you like going out into the city to be surrounded by the citizens but you evaded his watch and your memory got tampered with by those two people and,” you paused to catch your breath. “We’re so lucky that the King and Queen haven’t allowed you to be seen by the public because if they had, those two could have done much more worse things to you.”

Jeno put down the cutlery and reached over to cover your hand in his own, trying to comfort you by rubbing circles onto your skin with his thumb. “I won’t do that again,” he swore. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” A hint of a smile crept up onto his face, as he added, “I’m so lucky to be married to you.”

“Jeno, we aren’t married.” You corrected as kindly as you could manage. Which was a feat considering that he looked so happy and you didn’t want to be the reason why he wasn’t. “You gave me that ring as a birthday present.”

“With the intention of getting married, right?”

“No, Jeno. We aren’t together at all.”

Jeno stopped moving his thumb but kept his hand over yours. His gentle smile turned into a frown. “Do my parents not approve of you? Am I in an arranged marriage? I’ll break it off and we can run away with each other or something, because even though I’ve lost my memory, I can’t be imagining that you love me, can I? I have a drawer of clothes and you have those hooks so that our toothbrushes hang next to each other. And these books aren’t the only ones in here that are mine, I saw some on the bedside table with my name on the spines and– and– I see how you look at me.” His eyes were terribly sad and lost as he asked, quietly, “we love each other, don’t we?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, ready to be said. You were going to deny everything and inform him, gently, that you were strictly friends. Friends could love each other. Platonic love and soulmates existed! Except you couldn’t lie to him, again. Slowly, you slid your hand away from his and balled it into a tight fist on your lap.

“I can’t answer that right now,” you replied, your throat dry. “When your memory comes back, we can talk about this, okay?”

The silence that followed stretched on for what felt like eons. Eventually Jeno nodded but the silence remained, even as the two of you did the dishes and brushed your teeth. Jeno followed you like a shadow until you climbed into bed. He hovered at the door, his arms wound around his waist as he hunched over himself. When you gestured the space next to him, he slowly made his way over and slid under the covers. The two of you laid on your backs, a large space in the middle. You patted your hand around your mattress until your pinky met his. Jeno made no attempt to grab your hand in his although he didn’t retract his hand, either. Closing your eyes, you held his hand, slotted your fingers in between his and waited until sleep overcame you.

*

As your eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the brightness that filled the room, you became aware of how you were tucked under Jeno’s chin and how your arm was thrown around his waist. Your legs were tangled together and you needed to move before you drifted off to sleep again. It was difficult to remove yourself from him but somehow, you managed. After tiptoeing to the kitchen to grab a cup of water, you took a seat at the couch and looked at the pages you left on the coffee table so that you could pick one up and get to work.

“Morning,” Jeno greeted, his voice groggy. “What are you working on?” He asked as he took a seat beside you, placed his head on your shoulder and cuddled your arm.

“Some documents that needed to be finalized. I just need to edit some parts,” you answered as you tried not to concentrate on the warmth that he was radiating. It was tough but you handled it. “I’ll need to hand in it later. When are you planning to head back?”

“Kicking me out already?” Jeno asked before yawning. He rubbed his hair against your shoulder, “that hurts, y/n, we haven’t even talked about”–he let out another yawn–“last night.”

Knowing that it was futile to try to dislodge yourself from his hold, you stayed put. You worried at your bottom lip, unable to stop the nervousness that flooded your system. It was probably going to be a quick conversation. He was probably going to tell you that he hadn’t meant what he said last night and to forget all about it. Or maybe, hopefully, the two of you would finally address the feelings you had for each other because, and to use what he said last night, there was no way that you had imagined all those small moments that transpired between the two of you, was there?

“Alright,” you agreed, trying to think positively, “let’s talk about last night.”

Jeno removed himself from you. You adjusted your position so that you sat facing him with your legs pushed up against your chest, your arms wrapped around them securely. He seemed much more alert now, his eyes pinning you down with laser focus.

“We love each other, don’t we?” He asked, repeating his question from last night. Although he spoke with confidence, the insecurity buried in the depths of his eyes gave him away.

“Yes, Jeno,” you answered. “We’re friends, of course we love each other.” His mouth twisted unhappily, as if he ate something unpleasant, and was about to say something but you beat him to it. “But I think the two of us have wanted to be more than friends for a while now.” You said, a knot loosening in your chest once the words were out.

Jeno stretched his hand out towards your cheek and at his hesitance, you rested your cheek in the palm of his hand. “My parents approve of you and so does my sister. I’m not in an arranged marriage but if I was I’d break it off and run away with you.” You smiled into his palm and he mirrored it. “I’m so lucky to have you,” his eyes sparkled with adoration and he shifted closer to you, his hand still caressing your cheek. “I promise that I love you.”

You pressed your lips onto his warm palm. “I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”

In response, Jeno tittered gleefully. His other hand came up to cup the other side of your face and then very gradually, he tilted his head and shut his eyes while he leaned in to kiss you. It was sweet and slow and felt as if the rest of the world had faded away. Jeno smiled into the kiss and when he pulled away, his eyes fluttering open, the smile remained on his face. His arms dropped back to his sides and the two of you engaged in prolonged eye contact before you broke it, throwing your head back to laugh and then launched yourself at him. Jeno caught you easily, laughing along with you as his right hand cupped the crown of your head, while his left arm wrapped around your waist.

“I know I’ve said it already,” Jeno whispered into your ear after pecking his lips softly on your temple, “but I’ll love you for the rest of our lives, too.” You kissed his neck in response, practically glowing with happiness.

[ectonurites]

do u have any thoughts on the whole “tim is zapped to time prison” storyline? bc i feel like it could have been pretty interesting and a good way to bring back young justice/tim’s memories more immediately if it hadn’t been such a blatant attempt to just get tim out of storylines bc they had no ideas for his character

sorry lol u don’t have to respond i just kind of wish people talked about this storyline more? and the fact that tim lowkey became one of the only people in dc with knowledge of the other timelines (i think so at least) and nobody really addressed it?? like going into the next phase where people learn about other timelines after death metal.... tim should already know some of this stuff right?

YES YES YES OKAY LETS TALK ABOUT THIS this got incredibly long because I just have a lot to say (and i included screenshots) and i prob got a little off topic but. but lets get started anyways:

i haven’t read that particular storyline in a few months so i might be missing/misremembering some details here, but that whole ‘time prison + future tim’ thing was like. a really really interesting concept and the implications/impacts it has are a big part of why i liked tynion’s detective comics run as much as i did even with it’s flaws in characterization (such as treating tim like he was jimmy neutron boy genius and making steph..... be all ready to quit/breakaway from the team like that. the steph quitting characterization really started i think in batgirl convergence and unfortunately has haunted her since, even though pre reboot never giving up was like...... one of her defining traits. dc i hate you sometimes) 

i think that one of the biggest things that bothers me about the situation is how little we saw most of the other characters in the batfamily grieve (aside from steph and some with bruce, but again the way steph was portrayed just... hhhhhh. it very much reduced her to ‘tims girlfriend’ more than i’d have preferred) but otherwise like...as far as I can remember there was maybe one line in that monsters crossover thing where dick mentioned tim was gone, jason had a single line about avoiding the funeral in rhato, i dont think they showed any reaction from babs at all until after he was back, and the most for damian I recall is at the end of the 2014 teen titans run (#24) where he looks at... a case with the old red robin uniform Tim wasn’t even wearing anymore when he died? and that just bugs me. Instead of getting to see the actual funeral we get one flashback to it way after the fact once Bruce already knows Tim’s not actually dead

But at the time when they all DID think he was dead? the closest thing we see was in that same teen titans issue (#24) there’s a memorial-type ‘sharing stories’ thing after the funeral with tim’s titans friends but.... we don’t see something like that with his family. tim is a major presence in these peoples’ lives, they are his family, when he gets sent into time prison its even SAID how loved he apparently is

its just... idk. they all thought he was dead, and if they had put more emphasis on showing not just telling how that effected EVERYONE (not just steph) in the batfam, it might have felt a lot less like they were just putting tim away until there was a story idea for him. (like obviously I know they can’t make everyone’s stories revolve around Tim, but I’d have way preferred a detective comics issue of the funeral/memorial with the family than having there only be a teen titans one, I think it would have... held more relevance & meaning... but instead they just went right into that monster crossover story instead of lingering on this)

but then the Tim story itself once it does pick up way later, with titans tomorrow/future tim coming along having that whole “tell conner you’re sorry” “who’s conner?” exchange with current tim... that opens up A LOT of things to think about, and I think was pretty interestingly done if i’m remembering correctly. future tim recognizes the timelines are different, and ya know goes off to try to change things further ("whaddaya got there?” “a gun to kill batwoman” “NO!!!!”), theres lots of fighting etc etc the good guys win as we expect, but once that’s all settled tim’s left there with this whole. thought process

which ya know is the big indicator there’s weird timeline/reality fuckery going on (or also the read here can be that tim and kon are so connected across all space and time that their bond can transcend anything even timelines and realities and reboots... “and they were soulmates” “oh my god they were soulmates”) 

ANYWAYS lets not forget that tim isnt the only one who learns about this other timeline stuff during this whole situation!

Brother Eye has records of future tim’s timeline, and cass & steph see who they used to be! and as soon as steph finds out ‘holy shit i was ROBIN and BATGIRL?’ she also desperately wants to know more! which then a bit later leads into young justice 2019 where instead of going off to college like they told Bruce they were gonna, Steph and Tim go get the help of Zatanna to see what might be going on in their brains with these timelines and weird feelings (as we see in flashback form in yj 2019 #5)

and HOO BOY DOES SHE FIND THINGS! she gets in there and finds out that oh yeah, their brains had very much so been tampered with, and with her magic she undoes some of it, by unlocking memories, and Tim finally remembers Conner! (also in case u were wondering, that panel is specifically a callback to this one from yj 1998 #17 when Cissie quit the team)

one thing that I think is weird/interesting/idk if it gets... properly addressed even, was that Zatanna also poked around Steph’s brain too and she didn’t remember everything? Might have something to do even with how Tim had been in time prison, might have taken less work from Z to open things up because of that? Who knows

additionally i wanna call attention to how he said “That entire chapter of my life” which... leading into my next point a bit... strongly leads me to believe even though he’s remembering some things he definitely does not have ALL of his memories back (because theres a lot more than just the young justice ‘chapter’ of tim’s life that was drastically changed by the new 52 & rebirth) 

BUT moving on, i wanna bring up this part from later on (after they figured out that there was a crisis that caused things in the world to change, which is why their memories/brains were messed with) in issue #16

so yeah, I think it’s indicated even though Zatanna brought back some memories and opened up his brain a bit, there’s still many holes, and some things seem more like dreams rather than memories and he’s probably unable to tell which are which on his own to some extent. (also for reference the real thing that Tim thought was just a dream is... likely yj 1998 issue #1)

So based on the things i’ve brought up here (which are the things I remember off the top of my head, I could easily be accidentally leaving shit out LMAO i haven’t fully read through any of these books in at least 3 or more months now) I think it’s safe to assume that Tim definitely has a head start on getting back his memories before Death Metal happens, but that it was by no means a complete thing. So the after effects of Death Metal are probably just gonna... be a little less drastic for him vs most other people because it was already happening, but it’ll be kinda filling in the remaining gaps? 

And like you said he is absolutely one of the few people that already knew about about the timelines/the fact that these crises have happened and changed things, but pretty much all the other young justice characters are also aware that there was meddling in the timeline/that multiple timelines and alternate universes like this exist since they were all together as a group when it got explained (in like. yj 2019 #15 i believe is where most of the explaining happens) (and cass as well is aware of things to some extent because of her and steph’s interaction with Brother Eye) but the difference is that Zatanna didn’t go into everyone’s brains, so they aren’t dealing with the same memory things as Tim (and possibly Steph? because again Z DID go in her brain, she just wasn’t able to unlock all the same things as she did with Tim) 

but yeah in general i SO wish this was explored more, both in canon and in fanworks (fanworks tho... that can still happen >:3c). Memories hazily coming in for Tim while Kon and Bart are able to confirm or deny things, him dealing with conflicting memories and feelings about his past as they trickle in... like I think we’ll start to see these types of things moving forward across a lot of titles with Infinite Frontier (i BELIEVE dont quote me on this but I BELIEVE the person writing Damian’s upcoming solo had mentioned in an interview that the memories coming back of the other timeline aren’t going to be an all at once thing but will be more gradual for most characters) but the fact that it theoretically had already been happening for Tim for MONTHS and we only got that one crumb indicating it in #16 of it instead of any actual exploration makes me SAAAAAAD 

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 41

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

The air was crisp and buzzing with tension as you walked through the forest that was a part of the endless gardens surrounding the palace. No matter how far you ventured, the palace still rose behind your back, melted into the very core of the mountain piercing the clouds. 

The river shimmered somewhere to your right as you followed Loki through the thicket.

"You okay?" he asked again, casting you a glance over his shoulder. 

You just nodded, a little breathless after circling around the fallen trees and muddy holes. 

The reason behind Loki's concern was getting nearer with each step. Magic was sizzling in the air, filled with energy not unlike one of a storm front's lightning about to strike. You'd passed a few bird-like creatures on your way there, but they didn't dare come close to the Rift. Double sets of wigs took them away and into safer spots. A three-eyed doe disappeared among gnarled trees, shedding starlight as it skittled off. Even the plants, usually a feral mass of color, seemed all to have withered the closer you got to the Rift. The only things left were dried, greyish branches and rotten greens of mud slipping upwards over them. 

Loki stopped at the edge of a clearing and took your hand. Your breath came out in clouds against the icy cold that shouldn't have been possible on the Edge.

In the center of the clearing hovered a rip. It was a long, sharp wound that filled you with a sense of wrongness. The mud in the direct closeness to it rose as if sucked by phantom winds and entered the dark, narrow space where it sizzled and disappeared. There was nothing natural in the way it made your skin crawl, even despite the safe distance between you. 

You couldn't blame anyone in the palace for wanting to stop it from spreading. Even if it meant complicating your life. 

Loki must've sensed your tension. He ran a hand over your back in a soothing manner, as he often did to calm you down. 

"We're far enough from it to be safe from its influence," he said. 

"Are you sure it'll be enough to hide your magic?" 

"I think so. Opening a portal requires a lot of energy from Bifrost, but the Rift should help us hide the evidence." 

"If it opens at all," you reminded him.

"Indeed," Loki sighed, getting ready for the inevitable. 

Having been almost murdered by a huge spider put both of you in an uneasy situation. No matter how you looked at it, it became obvious that your little investigation was definitely going against someone's plans. 

It would be dangerous to try and point a finger at anyone without evidence. Everyone you'd met so far had a motive. Your only wonder was the ambassador's role in this tangled mess - was he working with someone, or trying to correct the balance on his own? The notes found in his study were quite clear about his interest in the value of life on the Edge. The bloodiest conflicts in its history led to centuries of peace and freedom from Rifts forming, but was such bloodshed even possible anymore, let alone worth it? Was the ambassador's death just a door to achieving it through a new war against Asgard? Or was it simply a suicide? 

Loki and you spent a large part of the morning looking over the few facts in your possession, feeling like you were piecing a puzzle together without ever seeing the original picture. They had to connect somehow, and make sense through the details, but no matter how you looked at them, you still missed something vital. 

Those were frustrating hours that only resulted in making your heads hurt from coming up with increasingly bizarre theories. It was a good thing then, that you never left the bed and could relax for a while. There were marks on your bodies left from the night, and it took you both a while to retrace them. It took you longer to add some new ones, in ways that still made your toes curl thinking about it. Unfortunately, as pleasant as it was, it couldn't last forever. 

Which was what led you to decide to change the course of action a little bit, and play by a different set of rules. Neither Loki nor you were allowed to leave the Edge, but who would be there to blame you for it if no one ever found out? There were interesting places in the universe to pay a little visit to. 

One of those places was Asgard, where Loki claimed to have hidden a handy little device he had frequently used to trace even the thinnest whispers of magic back to its original caster. It was a long shot, considering how long ago he set foot in his chambers, but unless they'd been completely trashed, his secret stash should still hold. 

There were a few ways of sneaking into Asgard without notice, but Loki had to admit none of them led from the Edge. 

That left you with only one choice. A choice that made Loki's skin crawl. 

"Stay here," he braced through his discomfort and offered you a tight-lipped smile. "I'll see what I can do."

You watched him walk a few steps away. Loki held his chin high and shoulders square as he faced the dome of the neverending night overhead. 

"Listen, Heimdall, I know it's been a while, but don't you dare pretend you haven't been lurking-..." 

You leaned on a nearby boulder, carved with some intricate, needle-thin patterns. There was no reason you could come up with carving some huge boulder and then leaving it in the middle of a forest, but it was a good place to let your legs rest for a moment anyway. 

Loki left his bottomless bag with you as he continued his one-sided conversation, working himself up the more words poured out of him. He wasn't the most detailed about his relation with the being operating Biforst and guarding Asgard's borders, but from the way Loki talked about him, it was clear they weren't friends. What Loki had to ask of him now was a risky favor he had little hope would succeed. 

He tried it anyway, humiliating as it might make him feel. 

You watched him. His conversation turned into a rather heated argument, as one sided as it was. 

You looked up at the clusters of stars and galaxies passing the immeasurable expanse of the universe. Rarely had you felt so small and irrelevant. 

"You know," you said quietly, "Loki's really trying. He's doing his best, despite how shitty it is here. It's unfair how everybody expects so much out of him, but don’t consider how overwhelmed he is with all that's expected of him. No wonder he tries to hide it. It's hard to live knowing you'll never be what people want you to become, and how they are willing to force and shape you into what they'd rather have. But he's trying. He really is, and even now, he just needs this thing from Asgard to let us have some evidence and finish this investigation before we get killed for trying. Loki's amazing and capable, but even he needs some help sometimes, and I think now is one of those times. I try to help him as much as I can, but it's not me he needs right now. Just… be kinder on him, okay? If you're truly listening, I mean."

You sighed, biting your lip. The wind picked up some rogue leaves and dust, and took them away from the unnatural blemish looming to your right. The Rift was suspended mid-air, as if air itself had been torn and whatever lurked underneath the surface of reality, waited for the moment when it got wide enough to pass through. 

The weather on the Edge was mild usually, but you couldn't help a shudder from running down your back. 

Loki cursed in a language you didn't know. 

"At least we tried," he shrugged. 

There was a tight smile on his face, but it couldn't hide his disappointment completely. He would think of another way out, though, he just needed some time. 

Just as you were taking his bag and began to walk toward him, light enveloped both of you, and a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling threatened to bring the contents of your stomach to daylight. 

There was surprise in Loki's eyes, and a thread of hope as he reached out to you and gathered you in his arms. Clinging to him would be much more pleasant if the atoms weren't ripped out of your bodies, but before you blinked, the Bifrost plucked you out. Where you'd been standing, only faintest scorch marks remained. The Rift buzzed, but there was nothing for it to feed on. 

Pressing your face into Loki's chest didn't look dignified, but it helped you get through the blinding rush of universe passing you by. Your heart hammered against your chest, but Loki's arms held steady around you until all finally stopped. 

Peeling yourself from him took a considerable amount of effort, but once you did, both your fear and nausea dissipated. As it had happened with the Edge, the first thing that hit you was the smell you could only describe as otherworldly. It wasn't strong, but it filled you with the certainty that you were the stranger in this place of blinding gold. 

Loki and you arrived in a circular room at the end of a bridge casting rainbow reflexes under the setting sun. It was a beautiful thing, but you could only spare it a single look before a figure stepped down from the dais in the center. 

The man clad in armor of gold didn't budge at your gawking. Loki might be tall, but even in his own armor, he didn't look so menacing. 

"Hello, Heimdall," Loki nodded calmly, even though his arm was still on your back. "Long time no see, or at least on my side." 

"Coming here was an unwise choice," the warrior's voice boomed in the small space. He sheathed the impossibly long sword with ease. 

Loki put an unnerving smirk on his face. "And yet you got me through." 

You could've sworn Heimdall's eyes rested on you for the briefest moment. 

"So I did," was all he said, though. 

That was not an answer Loki had expected. He was tense, as if readying himself to argue or fight, but there was nothing about Heimdall that would suggest the need for that. The great Gatekeeper just stood, and waited. 

"We won't stay long," you promised carefully, breaking the silence. 

Loki loved you for it. 

"I have to retrieve something for the mission so thoughtfully commissioned to me. " He kept his chin high, not yielding a step. 

Staying composed and calm was an uneasy task in front of Asgard's most vigilant guardian. Loki had changed since he was a mere child, but something from those days stayed with him in the way he had to crane his neck to look into Heimdall's face. The Asgardian didn't change at all, or so it seemed. He was still an unbreakable mountain, with golden eyes capable of seeing all and knowing all. 

"I won't linger any longer than necessary," Loki added into the silence. "I know I'm not welcome." 

Heimdall took in the young Prince, who had grown strong, despite how cruel life had been to him. Then he turned his all-seeing eyes to you, noting the defiance in your pose, and the tension on your face, as if you were ready to throw fists with him, had the bargaining not worked. And based on the firm grip Loki now had over your shoulder, the Prince was aware of that. 

There was a hint of a smile on Heimdall's face, but it was obscured by the golden helmet and the shadows lurking beneath it. 

"Then go, and be quick about it." 

You cheered and quickly moved to the bridge, but Loki lingered, just a while longer. 

"Why?" he asked, the frown not fully gone from his brows. 

The Gatekeeper moved back to the dais, rising in the center. 

"I serve Asgard, and Asgard I protect," he said. "If war is imminent, I shall spill my share of blood, but if there's a chance to stop it from ever happening, I shall take that chance." 

The Guardian stood tall on the dais, as he did for as long as Loki's memory went, overlooking the portal and all the worlds it opened to. Loki bowed curtly, even though Heimdall's back was to him. The golden armor flared in the rays of the setting sun, but never before had it looked so heavy. 

You waited for him at the bridge, and despite the towers of gold and glass piercing the clouds ahead, they were secondary in your eyes, following Loki's steps instead. 

There was something unwinding in him, as if only then it truly occurred to him where he came back to. He knew that bridge, and the palace shining brightly in the sun heading to rest beyond the shore, and the salty waves that would swallow it in a few hours. Until the very moment his feet hit the bridge, Loki wasn't even aware of the ache deep in his bones that had finally eased. 

He kissed your brow and cast a glamor over both of you. Heimdall might've been forgiving, but the guards stationed at the gates far up ahead likely weren't. 

"Let's go, love," he said, leading you by the hand. 

"Are you sure we won't be noticed? There's nowhere for us to hide on the bridge." 

The waves crashed underneath it, and seagulls screamed overhead as you walked. The glamour made both of you look almost translucent, or at least it did in your eyes. You had no idea if it would work against others, in a world where magic was a common thing. 

Loki pointed ahead, where the guards were stationed at the far end of the bridge. "They have sensors sensitive enough to mark any ounce of magic on travelers."

"Makes sense. What do we do?"

"We shed the glamour." 

You blinked. The seagulls overhead shared your confusion. "Wouldn't that make us visible, though?" 

Mischievous light filled his eyes. "Not if we slip on a secret little passage beneath the bridge beforehand, and only there recall all the magic around us. We wouldn't want to alert anyone, would we?" 

"Oh dear, sounds like someone was a naughty little kid," you laughed. 

"And look at what's become of me. It's a wonder I hadn’t been banished centuries ago." 

"They are idiots for doing that now." 

The sheer conviction in your voice made Loki imagine Odin hearing that from you. You wouldn't balk or juggle around, that he was sure of. And would pay to see that, even if it earned him a few more centuries of banishment. 

The guards were closer now. Loki looked around for the tiny mark on the carved railing he made long ago. 

"Do you trust me?" he whispered in your ear, approaching the railing. The shore was close enough to see the waves crashing down on the blackened rocks, but still not close enough to jump to it. 

You looked down at the foaming chaos of the sea crashing against the pillars and stone. "I mean, I wouldn't trust you with a car, but I literally traveled worlds with you, so I guess I do?" 

"That's fair," he said and jumped over the railing. 

Despite yourself, you rushed to it, half expecting to see his bloodied corpse sprawled over the jagged rocks. The wicked grin on his face told you enough. 

"You're an ass," you growled, quietly enough not to alert the guards posted nearby. 

"You love my ass, don't lie to yourself," Loki reached out to you, urging you down. 

Crawling over the railing wet from the sea mist was not the way you imagined this day to go, but the steady form of Loki waiting below made you a little less nervous as you let go of the cold metal and fell into his arms. 

"Welcome back," the smug bastard dared to smirk at you as he navigated the barely noticeable path over the rocks. 

You noticed the glamour disperse as you neared what would be the gates overhead. The width of the bridge hid you from the guards' eyes though. Loki skittered over the rocks, somehow finding just the right place to step on. 

Despite his grip on you, you couldn't help but wince every time the cold waves crashed beneath you, the mist spraying high. The path was winding and barely noticeable. Every leap between the rocks made you tighten your arms around Loki's shoulders. 

"I know you like to joke around," you managed to say with the heart in your throat, "but please don't fake-fall or something." 

"As you wish." 

The shore neared soon. Sand never felt so much like a blessing than when Loki finally put you down on the steady ground. The cliffs to your left hid you from the guards' outpost, but Loki didn't want to linger there any longer than necessary. The patrols rarely visited the narrow stretch of a beach, but it was not impossible. 

Loki knew every stone and thorny bush on this side of Asgard. He led you up the cliffs hanging high, through a path concealed so much it looked as only the wild prey might've ever used it. You stopped only for a moment, to look over to the sea and the evening reflexes in deep shades of orange and red playing over its surface. 

Loki waited for you a few feet ahead, with an expression you’d rarely seen on him. 

"We'll get in through the stables," he said when you almost reached the top. 

The glamour was back on you as you sprinted through the lush, green fields surrounding the plain in front of long barracks. People were rushing in and out, and no one noticed two additional sets of steps in the loose hay and sand as you snuck inside. 

Most of the boxes were closed already, horses and hunting dogs readied for the night. In one or two you passed by, you could've sworn you'd seen winged creatures, but there was no way of getting close enough to them with so many people around. 

Loki led you out of the stables through a courtyard, to a narrow pathway and up the steps carved in stone to a more pronounced building. The doors were open, but no guards stood the watch there. Coming closer, the smells betrayed the reason. Kitchens, even in another world, always seemed to be a place steaming with sweat, spilled food, and not enough hands to control every pot around. 

Bent low, you followed Loki below the long tables, yielding under the weight of all the dishes prepared. Feet stumped around in a rush, plates landed heavily on the counters, and the absolutely divine smells made your stomach grumble. Loki must've felt the same because his hand reached out for a few freshly baked pastries at the same time as yours, pocketing them with a knowing wink. 

You slipped out into a dim corridor, for the interior use of the kitchens and took the doors to a pantry full of meats and sacks of something stored by the walls. 

In the far corner, Loki moved old, rotting boards to the side and revealed a small, dusty corridor hidden behind them. 

"After you.” He bowed. 

You looked at the webs and thought of their owners. "I'd prefer to stay in the back, if you don't mind." 

He only laughed and broke the thick webs before crawling inside. 

It wasn't long, and soon opened to a winding staircase full of dust and only a few slits instead of windows somewhere ahead allowing the faintest shreds of light inside. 

"A long time ago, part of the kitchens was located upstairs," Loki explained when he sat down on one of the steps. "This was a shortcut used mostly by the kitchen boys who had to run around all day, but it hasn't been used for centuries. I used to hide here with whatever I managed to sneak out of the kitchens." 

"And it looks like you haven't changed much since then," you observed, as you both pulled the pastries from your pockets. Even in the narrow space with little to no fresh air, they still smelled absolutely delicious. 

There were crunching noises as you both devoured them in record time. You hadn’t even noticed how hungry you were until you took that first damned bite. Minutes later, only a few crumbs were left, scattered on the narrow steps below. 

You caught Loki looking at a few stains of old ink that surely none of the kitchen boys had left. 

"So many hours I had spent here, feeling like an outcast among my own family," he said, tracing them with fingers. "And here I am again, as mere outlaw, no closer to them than I ever was. Do you think I'm even capable of changing?" 

There was no sorrow in his voice, not really. Loki had enough time to dwell over the same question over and over again that it no longer bore its initial weight. He was no closer to finding the answer, but at least it no longer hurt. 

Loki didn't budge as you slipped into his lap. He only turned to look at you when your hands cupped his face. 

"You are here, because you made a conscious decision to do everything in your might to prevent that pointless bloodshed and war from happening. You could have ran - look how easy it would be to just sneak out and hide in some remote location far from responsibility. Still, you chose to stay and do your best, and even if that doesn't answer your question directly, I think it's something worth keeping in mind."

Loki didn't answer. The dust in the air turned into gold as it hit the narrow rays of the setting sun. His eyes were closed as he pulled you into a slow, contemplative kiss. 

He had countless memories of the hours spent on that staircase. There were books he had all but devoured, and pages he had reread until he'd had them memorized. There were tiny spells he practiced where nothing would burn or get destroyed by untrained fingers. There were cookies and cakes and sometimes even some wine hidden from all eyes. 

And there was you, in this place of cold stone and times long since gone. Tasting you, Loki was reminded that no matter what the past had brought, the future was still a mystery worthy of waiting for. 

"Thank you," he muttered breathlessly into your lips. 

[tossawary]

Some random favorite lines (with commentary) of Chapter 23: “Swallowing Your Heart” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary.

-

Liu Qingge shoves him off his sword.

Plot twist! Betrayal! Shang Qinghua doesn’t have time to get over his shock at such an attack before Liu Qingge has caught the riderless sword in one hand and caught the swordless rider over his shoulder.

The Bai Zhan Peak War God flies on to Qian Cao Peak with his new cargo.

Shang Qinghua slaps the man on the back and wheezes.

“Have you done that move before?!” he demands, because that was so fucking smooth it’s offensive. It really does offend him! He’s super offended right now!

“Mingyan,” Liu Qingge says, like this explains everything. “And Fanli.”

It kind of does explain everything.

- 

AN: That LQG effortlessly manhandled SQH in the same way that he manhandles his sister. This is how LQG shows affection. LMY is not a fan of it either. 

-

“Ming Fan is a good sparring partner,” Binghe says as part of his tirade, like he’s confessing something. “But he needs sooooo many compliments to soothe his pride. ‘Oh, I knocked Shixiong over because he’s such a good teacher! Thank you, Shixiong, for helping me practice this move. Shixiong, I really admire how you don’t let the little things bother you because you’re so confident and skilled.’ I think he’s getting better now, but it’s still tiring sometimes. Uncle, some people really can’t take even a well-meaning criticism without falling apart.”

- 

AN: This conversation was definitely a jab at Shang Qinghua relationship with Mobei-Jun, but it also extends to Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu. 

- 

Binghe says that he also heard some Qiong Ding Peak people are here now, but he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Beyond that, not that much has apparently happened while Shang Qinghua was sleeping the day away! Liu Qingge came by, probably to report to his scheming wife, who was yet again totally and embarrassingly correct about Shang Qinghua’s state of being. Chen Xuan, whom Binghe embarrassingly correctly identified as Disciple Dumpling Thief’s Friend, dropped by, but only to say not to worry about the day-in-day-out of An Ding Peak.

- 

AN: Binghe knows Shang Qinghua’s nicknames for his favorite disciples. 

- 

Binghe curls up with his arms around and his head resting on Shang Qinghua’s stomach, while Shang Qinghua rubs his protagonist son’s back.

- 

AN: Either of these characters getting unconditional platonic affection is SO UNUSUAL that it hurts. People need hugs at all ages! 

- 

The kindest option here might be the demon lord coming back sometime in the next few days and pretending the entire interaction never happened. Shang Qinghua will tell the man that it was a human thing, some kind of nervous fit, and beg forgiveness for his lapse in presentation! Well, he probably should, except… he doesn’t really want to do that. He doesn’t really want to go, “My king, my apologies for the mess! Let me, ah, let me just swallow all of those words I threw out there, just chew them back up, gulp them down into some vital organ to rot there forever, so we can never talk about them ever again.”

Mobei-Jun seems to still be his Mobei-Jun, looking at that confrontation in hindsight, and not… not any other Mobei-Jun. People in general seem to have stayed the same, besides Peerless Cucumber being fitted into the picture as some mysterious intruder. All those years of service and loyalty and companionship Shang Qinghua remembers with Mobei-Jun haven’t vanished on him. “All current achievements have been preserved” and all that!

So, part of him wants to go, “So! Those things I said! What about them, huh? Do you have anything to say to any of that, my king? Anything at all?” 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua wants to OPEN UP and he can’t make himself take that step when his nephew’s life is on the line. MBJ has not made himself explicitly safe yet. Unspoken understandings can only go so far here. 

- 

“Was it something really bad?” Luo Fanli presses, leaning back along his desk until she’s practically lying down on it.

Not in a sexy pose or anything, just in a put-upon flop, kind of like a tired child finding the oasis of a department store furniture display during a too-long shopping trip or a toddler denied candy pouting on the floor of the grocery store. His little sister-in-law is not greatly concerned with dignity, much to her sister’s dismay and the eternal frustration of Qi Qingqi. She says life is too short for it.

“No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it means that everyone lived through it,” Shang Qinghua explains.

-

AN: Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Luo Fanli is fun. I’m looking forward to putting Luo Fanli in a room with Shen Yuan. SY needs friends. Luo Fanli @ Shen Yuan: “Idk, he’s a weirdo, but he’s uncle-shaped, right?” 

- 

Except when Shang Qinghua opens the soup container, it’s still completely full. None of his disciples - who are very, very good at acting like they’ve never been fed ever in their life - have helped themselves to even a taste. It’s a big pot! There’s plenty to go around! More than Shang Qinghua could reasonably eat by himself! And yet…

His disciples have been way too nice to him lately. He feels like he should be checking his pockets for whatever they stole from him when he wasn’t looking. Did the System replace his bratty disciples with good alternate universe ones?! He hates it, thanks!

- 

AN: This is SUCH a low standard... and yet...! It’s very funny to me how much his disciples not stealing food from a sick man says here. 

SQH: “Why are all my disciples such sticky-fingered brats?!” 

LJH: “Because you think it’s funny.” 

SQH: “Oh, yeah.” 

- 

Wow, Peerless Cucumber doesn’t seem pleased to see him! Shang Qinghua hasn’t suffered a glare that venomous since… well, Shen Qingqiu, maybe? Okay, so maybe the switch would have worked a little bit! But Shang Qinghua is still glad it didn’t happen, even if the System fucked up the rest of reality (somehow, Shang Qinghua still hasn’t figured out how exactly) out of revenge for its own shitty choices falling through.

“Where have you been?” Peerless Cucumber demands.

“Busy?” Shang Qinghua answers, coming closer but not sitting down. “Look, the System just rewrote bits of reality on me because of your fumbled arrival tipping some invisible scales and it has not been forthcoming about the changes. I had things to check on and things have been a bit political. I sent you a message.”

“That message said a lot of nothing,” Peerless Cucumber says, but with less venom.

“Aha, yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Peerless Cucumber looks frustrated, but finally scoots over so that Shang Qinghua can sit beside him on the bench. Shang Qinghua gingerly sits, giving the kid space.

Shang Qinghua is being super calm for the other transmigrator right now! He’s very calm here! The calmest!

- 

AN: SY really is a scared kid putting up a front. Which works out, because SQH is a dad here (and thinks SY’s insults are mostly just funny). 

- 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua can see a Qian Cao Peak cultivator standing impatiently by the Qiong Ding Peak guard. And… someone bouncing on their toes in a Qing Jing Peak uniform? Speak of the half-demon future tyrant of this world!

“Looks like we’ll have to continue this later,” Shang Qinghua says.

“My assisted meditation appointment,” Peerless Cucumber confirms glumly, looking as though he’s never experienced inner peace in his life and has no intention of willingly doing so. 

- 

AN: I took SY as genuinely having a knack for cultivating and that’s the interpretation I’m using for this fic, especially since I gave the Original Shen Qingqiu health problems that nearly killed him. In an earlier chapter, Mu Qingfang mentions needing to “replace Shen Qingqiu’s entire cultivation system”, which I planted for Shen Yuan getting a free, extremely stable highly developed cultivation system as part of his transmigration later. 

I mean, Shen Yuan manages to weather Liu Qingge’s qi deviation, a great deal of stress, Without-A-Cure, and etc., and he’s remarkably stable through most of it. So I’m leaning towards “a little bit of System assistance” here. The System was going to replace both Shen Qingqiu and SQQ’s unstable cultivation system out for Shen Yuan and a more stable cultivation system. 

SQQ still has a cultivation system. If he didn’t, it would have been mentioned by now. SQQ is repeatedly stated to be improving well in this chapter. I think Mu Qingfang would have noticed if SQQ didn’t have cultivation anymore. 

- 

“Then wouldn’t you be Luo-Shixiong to me?” Peerless Cucumber suggests wryly to the protagonist, who is both about five years younger than him and still shorter. (Mu Qingfang said that their guest seems to believe that he’s newly twenty. Whether or not the kid is editing his age up or down, Shang Qinghua has decided that he’s just not going to fucking think about this fact.)

“Uh,” Luo Binghe says, looking stunned and then to Shang Qinghua for help. Ha, he’s flustered, which doesn’t happen often. That’s adorable.. “...Maybe?”

Shang Qinghua snorts and remains unhelpful. Ning Yingying is actually about a year younger than Luo Binghe is, Shang Qinghua knows, but she’s been a member of the sect for significantly longer. Binghe might have some shidi and shimei soon with the next entrance test and he’s been very excited about that, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with a “shidi” closer to his young auntie’s age than his own. Kind of weird seniors and juniors are just part of the sect experience, nephew! Get used to it!

“Thank you, regardless,” Peerless Cucumber says.

“Of course,” Binghe agrees quickly.

- 

AN: SQH is probably going to look back on this moment and go, “Hmm.” 

- 

‘You’re very resourceful,” his sister-in-law says slyly.

“I am very resourceful,” Shang Qinghua allows, and in a fit of affection reaches up to pinch Luo Jiahui’s cheek like she’s Binghe. “And I have the world’s wisest and least bossy sister-in-law, too! How fortunate I am!”

Luo Jiahui slaps his hand away with a giggle, turning slightly pink.

“At least you know it!” she says.

- 

AN: I’ve been wanting to make SQH pinch someone’s cheek for ages now. 

- 

“...You looked very scared that night,” Luo Jiahui says finally. “It might have seemed worse to you than it was. If your demon can’t be understanding of one bad night, then it’s… I don’t know if there’s a way forward with him at all.” She fixes a determined expression and says, “If any offers are retracted then we’ll manage just fine without him. We’ll tell Qingge and he’ll help. And so will Fanli. Our family won’t fall apart so easily. Hua-Ge doesn’t have to take care of everything and be everything at once to everyone.”

- 

AN: LJH channeling some “dump him! dump him! dump him!” energy. 

- 

Shang Qinghua has never been able to picture cutting ties after all this time. What would he even say? “My king, I think our arrangement has come to an end. I promised to serve you for the rest of my life, but that was when I didn’t think my life was worth very much.” He can’t see that going over well! It’s never really been an option, anyway, since Luo Binghe can’t not unlock his demonic powers and go to the Demon Realm. The System won’t have it.

- 

AN: If SQH said that to MBJ, that would be a one-hit KO, probably. 

Break the man’s heart, why don’t you?

[wildriot]

Steter Week Day 5

It’s midday Saturday when Scott calls and begs Stiles for a favor.  Stiles, two days into his pre-heat, is fully prepared to deny him, but those puppy eyes are lethal, even through a phone, and he ends up agreeing to swap patrol shifts with Scott.  So he changes his clothes and heads out and is pleased when Peter joins him five minutes is.

It’s stupid, really, and irrational, but of all the alphas and betas in the pack, Peter is the one that gets his proverbial hackles up the least.  Maybe because, unlike the rest, Peter doesn’t use his dynamic as an excuse to act like an asshole – instead relying on his own personal charm to earn the title.

Stiles thinks at some point, a tally of all the shifts he’s spent with Peter running through his mind, that this might not be so bad.

Forty minutes later, they’re running for their lives.

“Fucking hunters,” Stiles growls, slogging his way through the mud.  “Always ruining everything.”

He’s out of breath, legs and lungs protesting the flat out sprint of the last who even knows how long.  The adrenaline’s starting to fade, the tepid beginning’s of exhausting slowly rearing it’s head and, to be perfectly honest, he really doesn’t think he can go much further.

Ahead of him, leading the way and dragging him along, Peter snorts.  “You have awfully low standards.”

Because focusing on Peter is better than thinking about what awaits them if they stop moving, Stiles takes offense.  “Excuse you,” he says, grip tightening on Peter’s hand as something – probably a tree root (they are in the Preserve, after all) – snags his ankle and nearly takes him down.  “I will have you know that my standards are reasonable.  Very reasonable.  So reasonable, in fact, that they spend their time reasoning with everyone else’s stupidly high expectations.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes!”

Peter just hums and Stiles silently flips him off.  In his head, obviously, he’s way too tired to do it for real.  

But Peter must sense his intentions anyway – all that werewolf-ism...ish? – and glances over his shoulder.  His eyes are glowing, too-bright in the darkness, and momentarily leaves Stiles blinking away white spots in his vision, and yet he still catches the tightening of Peter’s mouth, the way he seems to look past Stiles, deeper into the spaces they’ve left behind.

“Can you hear anything?” Stiles asks, trying to ignore the way his heart starts to bleed ice through his veins, sticky and cold.  He doesn’t think Peter can, over the rain and the noises they’re making, and Peter shakes his head.

“No,” he says.  

“But…?”

“But we have no idea what that thing was.  We can’t stop.”

Which is true.  Very true.  Hunters were one thing, but some sort of Lovecraftian hell-spawn was another thing entirely.  Just those few seconds in it’s presence, when it had entered the clearing where Stiles and Peter had been ambushed by a group of hunters, before it turned it’s attention to them and given them the chance to run, had been terrifying.  Stiles couldn’t even describe it.  The monsters they’d faced, human and not so much, had always scared him, but it had been the sort of fear that he could push aside and largely ignore until the problem was dealt with.

This, whatever it’d been?  It’d been fucking primal.

And he never wanted to feel that again.

So he shuts up, digs deep for the extra reserves he totally doesn’t have, and picks up the pace.  He doesn’t drop Peter’s hand.  He tries not to think about how, if Peter hadn’t been so quick to grab him, and Stiles had been left alone to race through the wet gloom of the Preserve, he’d most likely be dead right now.

They run for what could be another ten minutes, could be another hour. Stiles has no way of telling, phone dead and waterlogged in his pocket and he’s struggling.  The wet clothes are weighing him down, feet slipping across the forest floor more than before, and it’s only getting darker.

He’ll be damned if he says anything, though.  He cops enough shit from the pack as it is, being human and omega and thinking that he has what it takes to keep up with werewolves and alphas, because they’re jerks like that and he’s just stubborn enough to deny them the pleasure of being right even if it kills him.

Humans can do incredible things when their lives depend on it.  He saw that youtube video about that women that stopped a car from hitting her kid, yes he did, and he swears to god that if she could do it then so can he--

“Just a little further,” Peter says.

“Thank fucking Christ,” Stiles gasps.

Forget it.  He’s done.  Absolutely done, no energy left, no sir-ee.

Another handful of minutes and then they break through the treeline, staggering out into long grass and open skies.  The rain falls harder here, with no trees to act as a measly cover, which is just perfect, because it means Stiles can go longer than a couple of seconds without blinking the water out of his eyes and wishing his  hair was still short, if only so that it didn’t stick to his face like cold seaweed.  

Then Peter’s tugging him close, almost angling him so that Stiles is tucked into his side, and Stiles looks up, probably to ask him a flat why – they’re both soaked, the gesture is useless – when he sees what else is in the clearing, and instead ends up asking, “What?”

“We should be safe here,” Peter says, and starts forward, like he’s expecting Stiles to be okay camping out in some old house that looks, even in the dark, like it should’ve been torn down years ago for health violations.

Which, fine.  He wouldn’t be wrong – Stiles has always been freakishly adaptable to most things, and running for their lives during a freak storm is definitely a Thing – but, and Stiles is just putting this out there, really?

“With our luck?” He half snorts, half splutters.  “Doubt it.”

“So young,” Peter mutters, shaking his head.  “So cynical.”

“So old,” Stiles parrots, delighting in the way Peter tenses – so predictably – then relaxes.  “Such an asshole.”

Peter barks a laugh that’s drowned out by a sudden deluge.  

By unspoken agreement they both leg it across the remaining bit of what was likely once the front lawn and huddle underneath the overhang.

Stiles hugs his arms around himself while Peter fiddles with the lock. Kicks the toe of his shoe against the ground, bites his lip.

He must zone out, he thinks, because he jumps when the door swings open with a rusty shriek and Peter doesn’t look amused, only concerned, and doesn’t say anything smarmy before ushering Stiles inside.

“It’s safe,” Peter insists again, like he wants Stiles to believe him, and Stiles kind of wonders what his scent must be broadcasting, to get that tone in Peter’s voice.  “I promise.”

So Stiles looks over his shoulder at Peter strangely, a sort of ‘what gives?’ and sets off down the hallway.

The house is clearly old-fashioned.  All narrow and tight instead of the open and spacious.  It’s too dark to make out any detail, the little bit of diluted moonlight painted across the floor through the broken windows glinting dully off what Stiles assumes are bits of glass, maybe some metal fixings.

Peter is a steady presence at his back, a hand on his back.  The alpha is tense, strung tight like he’s on high alert and that’s making Stiles stress out even more, which is not fun and he kind of wants to tell Peter to chill out, only… This is Beacon Hills.  It’s the middle of the night.  Some creepy monster thingy is haunting the Preserve, and they’ve just spent the evening running for their lives.

In a town like this, you relax and you’re dead.  

In fact, a part of Stiles is actually, stupidly, rather pleased with the attention Peter’s giving him.  He feels like a priority, something important and it’s been so long since he felt like that…he just knows that’s the omega in him speaking, and firmly tells himself to knock it off.

“What is this place, anyway?” Stiles asks., figuring that, having nearly a decade and a half on him, Peter probably knows.  He doesn’t mean to be quiet, rarely ever is, yet something about this house reminds him of the Juniper Mausoleum he had to pass every time he went to visit his mom’s grave.

Peter is silent for long enough that Stiles labels it as hesitation, and opens his mouth to pester, when Peter finally talks.

“It’s my grandparent’s house.”

Stiles actually has to repeat the words back to himself before it sinks in.

“Wait what?”

Peter huffs a sigh.  “Of all the things – yes Stiles.  My grandparents lived here.  Happy?”

“No. I’m wet and I’m cold – what the hell happened to this place?”

“…”

“Peter?”

“They died.”

Well, Stiles considered, wincing.  Didn’t that just make him feel like a dick.

“Was it…?”  He isn’t sure what he want’s to ask.  Was it the fire? Hunters?  What?

And it’s like Peter reads his mind.  As the man maneuvers them up a flight of waterlogged stairs and into a room that Stiles is happy to see has all it’s window intact, Peter talks.

“It wasn’t the fire,” he begins.  “Though my father, Talia and I were never completely convinced that Hunter’s weren’t involved. They died when I was twelve.  Car accident, head on collision with a truck.”  He pauses, falling silent, and Stiles stands still as Peter drops his hand and moves away, heading towards what Stiles thinks might be an armchair.  “When they died… there are wards up around the clearing, still are.  When they died, this place, the house, the garden, everything, vanished.  Like it had never been here.  We spent years looking.  We could never find it.”

He watches Peter run his hands over the fabric and imagines the man must be trying to finds hints of familiar scents, doubts he’ll find anything after so long.

Stiles is lost for words.  They’re friends now – inasmuch as they wind up beside each other at pack meetings, and have a joint order at an Italian place that Stiles loves but can’t afford regularly and eats whenever he joins Peter for research at his apartment  – and Stiles has seen him with all manner of expressions and yet, this is maybe the most human Peter has ever been.

So he says, “I’m sorry,” and Peter waves his hand.

“It was a long time ago,” Peter says, voice light in a way that Stiles knows means the total opposite.  Peter pauses, then adds, “My mother was with them, in the car.”

“Jesus,” Stiles mutters before he can stop himself.  “You don’t have to, like, talk about it, or anything, not if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t you want to hear my story, Stiles?”

There’s an edge to his words, somethings Stiles can’t place, which makes him tip up his chin, makes him bristle like he’s been insulted. “Only if you want to tell it,” he says.

And maybe it was the right thing to say, because Peter seems to relax, shoulders no longer hunching forward, and he let’s out a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh under different circumstances. “What’s a little more tragedy between us, right?”

Stiles snorts, and eases into the room, dropping his worry like yesterday’s laundry by the door.  There’s still a part of him that’s tense, keyed into every sound, every creak, but he’s not alone; he’s got Peter and, honestly?  That’s kind of reassuring.

“I wouldn’t call us tragic.”

“Then what would you call us?”

Stiles shrugs, and blinks and wonders at how everything is full of color, suddenly.  “Misplaced, I guess.”  

The colors makes his eyes hurt.  His head starts throbbing and he misses whatever Peter says when his blood starts rushing loudly through his ears and his fingertips go numb.

It reminds him of coming down from a sugar high as a child.

“Peter,” he says, or thinks he says, thinks he hears himself say, but he’s shaking so hard now he might not have said anything at all.  

And then Peter is right there, filling his vision.  He’s so close Stiles can feel his breath against his cheek but he’s blurry around the edges.  Sort of wobbly.

He swallows, focuses on not throwing up, whines, maybe, and lists forward.  “I don’t feel so good.”

“No,” Peter says.  “I imagine you don’t.  You’ve never Dropped before, have you.”

It’s not a question.  Stiles treats it as one, anyway.  “Almost once,” he says, and grabs onto Peter’s jacket because that is the only thing not spinning right now

He thinks of a funeral and the wreak of alcohol and the smell of a furious alpha.

Thinks of cold tiles and ambulance sirens and the fuzziness of medication. Thinks of being too young to understand what was happening.

“Oh god,” he groans, doesn’t fully register Peter grabbing him and holding him when he starts to sink down, legs folding beneath him. “Is that what this?  This can’t be happening.”

“It’s not ideal,” Peter agrees.  The world lurches, sways, making Stiles bury his face in Peter’s jacket, and the next time he resurfaces, it’s to find Peter has taken a seat in the armchair, and arranged Stiles so that he’s curled up his lap, feet free of his shoes, cold toes tucked between Peter’s thigh and the cushions, back pressed against the armrest.

“Just try and relax, sweetheart.”

And something just… slumps, inside him, goes warm and soft.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

Peter hums and Stiles kind of likes how it echoes through his own body, but then Peter is moving, jostling him around, and Stiles latches on, suddenly unbelievably terrified that he’s about to be displaced.

But Peter’s only awkwardly shrugging out of his jacket, which makes a certain amount of sense, being soaked through and all, and deftly flicking open the buttons of his shirt, baring his chest.

Stiles doesn’t even get the chance to appreciate the view before Peter is doing the same to him, shoving off his hoodie, sliding up his t-shirt.  The chill is immediate but Peter must’ve found a blanket somewhere and now covers him with it.

Stiles is certain he knows what Peter’s doing, positive he’s read about it, at least, and yet his brain isn’t making sense.  His throat is hot, bonding glands feeling swollen and puffy and his limbs basically useless.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Peter says into his ear and Stiles huffs a whine and falls forward into the alpha’s warmth, into his strong grip.

He shoves his nose into alpha’s neck and inhales rapidly.  It’s maple syrup and warm blankets, sun-warmed soil with the bitter undertone of expensive coffee and something Stiles can’t name but craves anyway.

He probably isn’t under for longer than an hour.  Time passes and his mind… drifts, overcome by instinct and the overwhelming need to feel safe.

It feels like falling asleep, almost, stuck in that in-between where nothing feels real.

Wakefulness returns slowly, seeping in at the edges.  He is conscious of Peter’s hands running up his back, of his own hands curled into Peter’s chest.  The hint purr building in his chest tickles his throat and makes him blush, knowing how intimate that sort of reaction is, how intimate their position is; an unmated omega alone with an unmated alpha.  

His dad would lose his mind if he ever heard of this, which he was never going to if Stiles had anything to do with it.

Aside from their position though, Stiles feels… good.  Not better, still a little unsteady, but it isn’t as bad as before.

His fingers don’t feel like little ice-blocks, for one.  And he’s no longer shaking like some preteen that accidentally wondered into the horror showing in a cinema, which is wonderful, truly wonderful.  

Of course, there is the small matter – very small, certainly not a big deal at all – that he just Dropped for Peter.

Psycho Peter, whom the rest of the pack can’t stand and don’t trust.

Crazy Uncle Peter that pokes and needles until he’s got Derek looking ready to start throwing him through walls again, and drives everybody else insane.

Peter, who…

“Back with me, sweetheart?”

Peter who does things like that.  Calls him sweetheart and touches him like he’s something precious, something cared for, instead of a nuisance that’s too loud or too blunt or just too much.

Peter, who’s never mocked him for his dynamic, or put him down for instincts he can’t help.  Who always buys him his favorite coffee and orders in Italian food for him and never minds when Stiles just happens to fall asleep on his couch during a research binge because the house is empty and he’s so goddamn tired of being alone.

Peter, whom Stiles is just realizing he might be a little bit in love with, while sitting in his lap.

Talk about inopportune moments.

“… this is so embarrassing,” he mutters, feeling stiff and awkward.

Movement, then Peter’s fingers are tangling through his hair and tugging gently, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Peter is quiet for awhile.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says at last, quietly, like if he says it any louder, the meaning won’t be the same, will transform from something that makes Stiles’s heart stutter and race into something shallow and flippant.

Stiles swallows.  “You – you.  I, uh.”  He was not equipped to handle this kind of conversation.  “I am not equipped to handle this kind of conversation.”

“And what conversation would that be?”

Multitudes of snark appeared on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back.  Breaths. Tries to get his thoughts in order.

“...you know very well what kind,” he settles on saying.

Peter doesn’t say anything in response to that.  He just sighs, turns his head so his nose is in Stiles’s hair, and somehow pulls Stiles closer.

It’s nice.  It’s so nice.  It’s the kind of nice that should be illegal and after the shitty night he’s had, Stiles is weak for it.

An illicit thrill runs through him when he thinks of what this would be like if Peter was his mate rather than just an alpha that his omega was sweet on… thinks of a soft bed and pillows that smell of both of them… thinks of purring, something he’s never done in front of anybody else before, ever.

“You are very young,” Peter says, sounding pained.

Stiles worries his bottom lip.  “I’m eighteen in two weeks,” he whispers, voice hitching.  He clears his throat, adds, “Besides. After everything that’s happened, am I really still that young? Are any of us?”

“The pack will never accept it.  Derek won’t accept it.”

“So? It’s none of their business.  I can do what I want.  Just because they don’t personally agree with what I do, doesn’t mean their opinion suddenly matters.”

“And Scott?”

“Scott,” Stiles starts, so sure of what he was going to say only to falter, because… because what if Scott didn’t understand?  Derek and the pack were one thing.  Stiles felt semi-responsible for them, mostly because he’d helped save all of their lives at some point, and that meant something, you know?  But Scott was his brother, they’d grown up together, and Scott still looked at Peter like he was never going to be anything but a spree-killing monster.

He made a helpless sound, frustrated and confused.

Peter soothed him, humming unintelligibly into his hair.  

“Let’s not talk about this now.  You’re e--”

“If you say I’m emotional, I swear to god I will hurt you.”

“-exhausted. Don’t lie to yourself, you’re running on fumes right now, and I am not a good enough man to let you regret anything else you might say tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Just because you’re being reasonable.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.  Now, why don’t you try and get some sleep?  The wards won’t let anything through.”

“...why’d it let us through, then?”

“They were once keyed to Hales.  You were with me.”

“So… what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been with you?”

“Likely something suitably horrible.”

“Wow, great.”

****

They don’t ever really talk about it.  The next day, when the storm’s passed and everything is yellow-wet and sweet, Peter steers them through the Preserve, back to town.  They come out two streets over from Stiles’s house.

After… nothing really changes.  They spend time together, do things together.  Nobody notices.  Or, if they do, they don’t say anything.  The Sheriff isn’t home enough to notice how often his son is out, and when he is home, Stiles is careful to not make it so blatantly obvious that he’s spending at least three nights a week in a bed that isn’t his. It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything, exactly.  Just, he knows his dad, okay?  Knows exactly how much he would freak out if he knew what was going on and… well, sue him but he likes what he has now, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

Outside of that, being with Peter and researching and hanging out with the pack, Stiles graduates, and seriously thinks about what he wants to do with the rest of his life, which leads to him hunting down a mage that’s willing to be his mentor in return for free labor and a research assistant and moving halfway across the country.

Peter is with him every step of the way and officially begins courting him on his twentieth birthday.

By his twenty second, they’re mated and back in Beacon Hills and Stiles is incandescently happy with the way his life is going and Peter is leading him through the Preserve after making him promise to keep his eyes closed.

Stiles does, reluctantly.

It’s spring, the day warm and the woods seemingly come to life with bird song and the quick scamper of small animals across the ground.

Peter’s hand is a familiar weight in his, fingers laced together in a way that should be awkward but isn’t and Stiles is busy cursing how no amount of training will ever make him the kind of graceful that means he isn’t always tripping over himself and--

Peter slows them to a stop, and Stiles has the sense that they’ve come to a clearing, sunlight warm on his face.

The air is filled with the subtle scent of flowers and fresh grass and there’s a sort of hush that’s fallen over the place, like even the birds have gone quiet in anticipation.

Peter steps up behind him, presses against his back, arms going around his waist.  Stiles relaxes against him, not bothering to hide his smile, or the way his scent goes mellow-sweet.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter tells him, and Stiles does.

His breath catches.  

“Oh my god,” he says, staring.  He can’t help it.  He’s thought of the house often, wondered what it looked like in the daylight.  In the months after, he’d even thought of asking Peter to take him out again, show him around, but Peter had never mentioned it, not once, and Stiles had figured that it was one of those things that had too many bad memories to outweigh the good but…

“Peter,” he says.  “You…”

“I bought it,” Peter responds.  “Fixed it up.”  Then, while Stiles is still staring and speechless because the house is beautiful and equal parts Peter’s taste in architecture and Stiles’s taste in color, Peter shifts so he can press a kiss to the bondmark on his neck and says, “Consider this my mating gift to you.”

And Stiles breathes in, trying, and probably failing to contain his excitement, and says, “It’s perfect.”

And you know what?  It kind of really is.

[labyrinth-runner]

Having a Ball

An Obi-Wan x Reader Winter Tale, also a secret santa present from @starwarssecretsanta​ for @peacefulwizardfox

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: None

Summary: It’s a fluffy wintery fic with some snowball fights.

Big thanks to @the-mandalorian-clone-lover for letting me bounce this off her.

The air was cool as it went right through your robes. A shiver went down your spine as you wished you had dressed in more layers. Obi-Wan had warned you that the planet was cold, and you remembered it being such when you were younger, but you had figured that you had grown in your training and could block out the cold by now. Such was your mistake.

Being here on this planet gave you the illusion that everything was normal. The world was a blanket of white, untouched in most places. In a word, it was peaceful. It was this serenity that made it one of the Order’s favorite places for brief meditative retreat. However, when you saw the list of people who had signed up for this trip, you were beginning to think that maybe it wouldn’t be as relaxing as it had been advertised.

You were excited for this retreat, though, having heard stories about Master Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker’s antics. Very rarely did you get to see them in action these days, with the war spreading you all out so thin, so you were keen to see the infamous duo get up to some of their shenanigans.

“Let’s set up camp for the night,” Master Windu advised.

Looking around, you noticed that there were no tents. A quizzical look settled into your features until you saw what your lodging was to be. 

The Jedi around you held their arms out, palms facing out, fingers splayed. Their eyes were closed in concentration as they reached out to the world around them. 

Shapes began to take form out of the snow,  ice rising from the ground as a building rose up in front of you. Closing your eyes, you joined them in lifting it up so that the door was accessible.

“Now that that’s done, time for the fun,” Anakin whispered to you as he knelt down to pack a ball of snow in his hands.

You raised a brow at him as he wound up and threw it, hitting Obi-Wan square in the face. Snow clung to his beard as he reached up to wipe it off, giving Anakin the dirtiest look as the younger Jedi snickered into his hand.

“Master, you’ve got a little something on your face,” Anakin said innocently.

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed as a clump of snow rose from the ground and hurled itself at Anakin, who ducked, causing the snow to hit you instead.

The crowd grew silent as you casually reached up and swiped the snow from your eyes to see a blushing Jedi Master sputtering an apology. Calmly, you reached down to pack your own snowball before returning the favor.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Ahsoka yelled as everyone broke off into a free-for-all.

Snowballs whipped back and forth across the white expanse of space as haphazard forts were quickly erected to provide shelter from the cold ammunition being pelted every which way. You dove behind a snow bank, but the snow moved under your weight, sending you tumbling down a hill. The roll continued until you found yourself going from a slight tumble to a sheer drop into a cave. 

Looking up at the space you’d fallen through, you realized you wouldn’t be able to jump up unaided. You let out a sigh, sending a puff of air in front of your face. Turning to look at the cave, you noticed light shining through the icicles, indicating another entrance on the other side of the cave. Faintly, you heard the whistling of the wind through the cavern, and what sounded like your name. Having nothing left to lose, you trudged towards the light, hoping to reach the end quickly and before the sun set.

You weren’t so lucky, finding yourself exiting the cave just as the rich reds and pinks in the sky gave over to the purple indigo of night. “Oh, kriff.”

“The days are definitely shorter here than on Coruscant,” a sharp voice cut through the stillness.

“Master Kenobi?” you called out. 

“Here, darling,” he said as he slid down a slight bend to land in front of you. “You know, everyone’s worried about you.”

“I didn’t mean to make people worry,” you blushed, “I took a tumble and ended up in this cave.”

“I told them that, but they didn’t seem to believe me, or your tracks for that matter,” he said as he fished out a blanket to wrap around you. “Well, it’s too late to go back like this. The temperature will drop soon. We might as well stay here for the night.”

Here? The two of you alone in a cave? Your mind was reeling. You had had a crush on the Jedi Master ever since you were both padawans, but thankfully your missions kept you apart, which helped keep your feelings at bay. However, having to be so close to him like this, especially after he had come to rescue you, was reigniting that spark that you had thought was gone, but had in fact only been dormant for so long.

The two of you went back into your cave and he reached into his pack for his emergency fire kit, building a small fire that was kept at bay by a ring of stones around the small crackling source of heat.

“So, what made you sign up for the retreat?” he asked as he dug around for some rations in his pack.

“I thought it might be a relaxing break from being shot at,” you replied as you took one from him, cracking the ration over the heat.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “Relaxation. There’s something I haven’t done in a while.”

“Anakin seems intent on making it hard for you to do that,” you teased.

“He’s got a good heart,” he replied. “And some of his ideas are brilliant. Just don’t tell him I said as much.”

You giggled, “Your secret is safe with me.”

“If I remember correctly, they always have been,” he said with a small smile.

“Oh?” you asked, feeling your mouth suddenly go dry.

“I know attachments are frowned upon, but I will admit that I always miss your smile when you’re away,” he winked. “It’s infectious.”

“Careful, Master Kenobi, your Jedi charm tricks won’t work on me,” you said, playfully nudging him, but you were blushing.

“Oh they won’t? I remember it being different when we were younger. You were always blushing at everything I said and blaming my accent if my recollection is correct,” he looked into the fire before turning to you for a moment. Softly he asked, “What happened to our friendship?”

“You lost your Master and then we were thrust onto different paths,” you replied, slipping your hand along the rocky bottom of the cave to tentatively touch his hand. When he didn’t pull away, you interlocked your fingers with his. “I always believed ours was a friendship that could pick up from wherever we left off.”

A slight tint settled above his beard, but you wondered if perhaps it was a trick of the light reflecting off the cave walls. “Oh, is that so?”

“I know Master Yoda says that we are all luminous beings, but whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same,” you replied, looking into the fire, “A connection like that runs deep enough to withstand the test of time, wouldn’t you agree?”

Obi-Wan looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment he was just a man. He wasn’t a Jedi, and neither were you. You were just two souls bound together by so many commonalities that one might not know where he ended and you began. The way the light glinted off your face casted you in an ethereal glow. Luminous being, indeed, he thought as he took you in. Although your words were true, he would never have had the courage to admit them on his own. Instead, he just gave your hand a squeeze.

“We should rest. You sleep first while I take the first watch,” he said, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around you. 

A slight sigh breezed through your lips, but you let it go, as you had always been trained to do. The physical touch would be enough to reaffirm that perhaps he saw you in the same light as you saw him. Resting your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes to get comfortable. Soon enough, you found yourself drifting off into a meditative state, not quite ready to commit to actual sleep at this point.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh as he looked out of the mouth of the cave. Every time that he thought he was over his attachments, something would happen to reassure him that perhaps he wasn’t the perfect Jedi that everyone thought him to be. He had mastery over his emotions, but that didn’t mean he was devoid of them. It wasn’t something that he could just lock in a box and forget about. It was a constant battle every day with a beast that would remain conquered for only so long. It was a battle of wills, waiting for him to fatigue and slip up. In truth, sometimes he wanted to slip. He wanted to give in and take the easy way out every once in a while. He wanted to feel everything; to give into temptation on occasion. To love and be loved in a way that consumed, just to feel. But, a part of him feared being burned. Feared making a mistake he couldn’t take back. To give himself to someone so completely would mean that the loss of that person could be enough to ruin him. 

To love anything at all is to be vulnerable. That kind of vulnerability was something a Jedi couldn’t afford, so he put up walls. Walls that even Anakin couldn’t break through, and yet you always had a way of slipping through the cracks. It was almost as if letting those walls down would be acceptable if it were only to let you in.

The sky outside was getting lighter, but it wasn’t sunrise. A smile curled the corners of his lips as he gently shook you awake.

“Darling,” he murmured as you groaned, “Darling, look.”

You blinked your eyes open, trying to focus on your hazy surroundings as your vision swam. “What am I looking at?”

Gently he reached out to tip your chin up towards the sky and you understood.

Wavy lines of color streaked across the sky, lighting up the night. “You know, the ancient texts referred to auroras as being the spirits of a planet dancing in the night.”

“Qui-Gon always said they were the physical representation of a planet’s aura,” he said thoughtfully as he took in your awed expression.

“Regardless, they’re beautiful,” you murmured, “Definitely not a view you can see on Coruscant.”

“Mmm, they are beautiful,” he said as his eyes softened on your face. “I wish I could see it more often.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him staring at you, sweeping his eyes along your features as if he were trying to memorize you.

“Afraid you’ll forget me?” you asked as you turned towards him.

“I doubt I could ever manage that,” he replied with a small smile.

“Am I forever burned into your memories?” you asked playfully with a bright smile.

His heart skipped a beat as he reached out to brush a strand of hair out of your face, gently sliding the pad of his forefinger along the outline of your face as he did so. Your smile slowly slid off your face as you took in the intent nature of his gaze. His eyes flicked down to your lips before slowly making their way back up to yours. The seas of his eyes were tumultuous, like a churning sea as you stand on a cliff in a storm.

Obi-Wan licked his bottom lip as you reached out to gently cup his cheek. You dragged your thumb through the soft bristles of his beard, feeling your breath catch at how he leaned into your touch. You let your hand slide along his jaw towards his chin as your thumb dragged along his bottom lip, gliding from the dampness left by his tongue. Your eyes settled on his lips, entranced, before lazily looking up at him with a hooded gaze.

The fire was slowly dying in front of you, casting you both in the shadows of the embers. A log on the fire shifted, sending up sparks that playfully danced in his eyes. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you both stood on the edge of this precipice, toeing the crumbling limits, afraid of what might happen should you fall. 

A flutter in your chest caused you to take that step, falling over the edge and dragging him with you. You pulled him in for a kiss, relishing in the way his supple lips pressed firmly into yours. 

His beard tickled your face as his hand slid to cup the nape of your neck. His velvety tongue slipped over your bottom lip, the first demand you imagine he’s ever given, and one you were very happy to acquiesce to. His tongue danced with yours, a tango to a music only the two of you could hear.

He explored you like you were uncharted territory, but in truth, he was also exploring himself. Testing his limits. Determining how far he was wiling to go. It was a journey you would go on with him, but you let him take the lead out of respect. 

You broke from the kiss and rested your foreheads against one another as you panted slightly for air. “Good night, Master Kenobi. I’ll take this next watch.”

“Good night, darling,” he grinned, his chest still heaving slightly from the exertion as he rested his head in your lap.

You let your head fall back as you let out a silent laugh at what just happened. Biting your lip, you shook your head before turning your attention back to him. Gently, you ran your hand through his hair, stroking through the auburn locks as you took in his sweet face of content. Part of you wondered if that was the first time he did something he wanted to, regardless of the consequences, in years. You draped your arm over his chest as you let yourself picture a normal future for the two of you. It was a daydream you hadn’t had in a long time, but one that you took out of its box every once in a while, if only to shake off the cobwebs. 

If you weren’t Jedi, you’d be married. You’d live on a peaceful planet full of serene moments where you could feel the force at work in the galaxy. Maybe you’d have a farm, or maybe you would just live in town. Perhaps you’d befriend the neighbors. Perhaps you’d be in a remote area with no one around for as far as the eye could see. Obi-Wan would tend to the animals, and you would help him build the life he could have had if he wasn’t a Jedi. Perhaps you’d have children running around, a perfect mix of the two of you, or adopted to give them a better life in a loving home. No matter the scenario or the variables, the common denominator was that you’d be happy together.

You watched with passive interest as the sky changed from an inky indigo to the same shades as your dying fire until the sun had risen in the sky again. Gently, you nudged Obi-Wan awake.

“Obi, it’s time to go home,” you murmured.

He stretched languidly before collecting his belongings. You did the same before heading out of the cave and into the bright morning light. 

“We can follow my tracks to get back to camp,” he said as he held his hand out to you. “Shall we?”

With a smile, you placed your hand in his and together you traversed the snowy hills until you were back to camp. You caught sight of the others breaking down camp.

Anakin was the first to spot you, eyes falling on your conjoined hands. You quickly dropped Obi-Wan’s hand when you noticed where the Jedi Knight was staring.

“Bout time you two showed up. We had to do all the work breaking down camp without you,” Anakin teased. “It’s not very Jedi-like to shirk your duties.”

“I’ll remember that, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a wag of his finger.

“We’re glad the two of you are safe,” Ahsoka said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Yeah, would’ve hated leaving you here,” Anakin grinned.

Mace gave Anakin a withering look, “No one is getting left behind.” You could have sworn you heard him mumble ‘unfortunately,’ before he turned to Obi-Wan to add, “The next time you decide to wander off, take Skywalker with you.”

Obi-Wan shot Anakin a look that said, ‘what did you do?’

Anakin just shrugged, placing his hands up in a placating manner.

“Load up, everyone. It’s time to go home. I hope this trip was as enlightening as you all thought it would be,” Mace said before heading towards the ship.

You shared a smile with Obi-Wan Kenobi at Master Windu’s words before adjusting your pack on your shoulder and following the others onto the ship.

Enlightening, indeed.