#like tell me you don’t understand high demand groups without telling me you don’t understand high demand groups

[exmojoe]

I hate living in a mormon dense area so much! Why can’t I live somewhere where no one knows what a mormon is??? People are talking about BYU and the honor code on a discussion board! Like bea I know we’re in a race and sexuality class, and I know the church is oppressive a hell but school is ~secular~ which means I did not come here to get into the rabbit hole of mormonism. I could ignore it…. I could…. But at the end of the day I can’t. I have to…..

[delulu2468]

Hidden Flames

Enemies to Lovers

Author: Hi I hope you like this short story! This is my first story so please don’t judge!!! If want more stories or have any character suggestions please let me knowwww

Summery: Y/N and Nathan had been rivals since kindergarten, their lives intertwined by fate but divided by animosity. Despite constant bickering, an unspoken connection drew them together. During junior year, a chance encounter in a janitor’s closet reveals their hidden desires. In a passionate moment, they realize their feelings run deep. As they confront their past and complex relationship, they must decide if they can embrace their secret love or if their history is too much to overcome. “Hidden Flames” is a story of unexpected love, raw passion, and a bond that defies all odds.

Contain: Smut!Warning, p in v, etc.

The world had always been a strange place to Y/N and Nathan. They'd hated each other since kindergarten, but it wasn't the hate that was strange. It was the way they could never seem to shake each other's presence. They went to the same schools, had the same friends, even lived in the same neighborhood. But somehow, no matter where they were, there was always a silent understanding between them that they were meant to be there, together.

And then one day, during their junior year of high school, everything changed. Y/N found herself in the janitor's closet, hiding from a group of her friends who were planning an elaborate prank on her. She'd never been in this particular closet before, but she knew it was the perfect spot for some alone time. That's when she heard a soft rustling coming from behind a stack of old mops.

Curious, she poked her head around the corner and came face-to-face with Nathan. He was just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, their hearts pounding wildly in their chests. And then, without a word, they stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met, and in that moment, everything else seemed to fade away.

Time seemed to stand still as they explored each other's mouths, their tongues tangling together in a dance that was both familiar and foreign. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as Nathan's hands found their way up under her shirt, caressing her bare skin. She could feel the heat emanating from his body as they pressed closer together, their hips grinding against each other.

"Nathan," she gasped between kisses, "I never knew..."

He pulled away, his eyes searching hers. "I've loved you since the first day I saw you, Y/N. I just... I never knew how to tell you."

The confession stunned her into silence. She felt her cheeks flush as she registered the truth of his words. She'd always known there was something between them, but she'd never expected this. "Nathan..." she breathed.

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing her ear. "I've wanted this for so long. I've imagined it a thousand times." His hand moved up to cup her breast through her shirt, his thumb teasing her nipple. She gasped at the touch, arching her back into him.

"Nathan..." she moaned, feeling a desperate ache build up deep within her. She could feel the heat from his body, sense the strength in his arms as they held her close. It was intoxicating, and she couldn't get enough.

With a groan, Nathan pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bare breasts to the cool air of the janitor's closet. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent as he ran his hands up and down her sides, over her ribs and the soft curve of her stomach. She arched her back, offering herself up to him as he leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking gently.

Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding against his hard length. She felt his erection, hot and demanding, pressed against her. She reached down, tugging at the belt loop of his jeans, urging him to take them off. As his pants fell to the floor, she wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his skin against her own.

"Y/N..." he groaned, his voice rough with desire. He pulled her body flush against his, their chests pressed tightly together as he positioned himself at her entrance. She was wet, hot and ready for him. He hesitated for a moment, looking down into her eyes, and then with a growl of need, he thrust deep inside her.

She cried out at the intensity of the sensation, her body arching reflexively to meet his. Their hips moved in perfect sync as they began to fuck, their rhythm echoing through the empty closet. Nathan's hands found purchase in her hair, tugging gently as he held her close, his lips moving over her neck and collarbone. She could feel him, deep inside her, and the sensation was exquisite.

Time seemed to slow down as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies moving together in a dance that felt both familiar and foreign. Every touch, every caress, every breath seemed to heighten the sensations coursing through her. She could feel herself growing closer and closer, the pleasure building inside her until it threatened to consume her.

"Nathan..." she gasped, arching her back as he thrust deeper still.

He groaned, feeling her body tighten around him. He could feel her climax building, her inner muscles gripping him in anticipation. He quickened his pace, thrusting harder and faster, determined to send her over the edge. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she came, her body shuddering with pleasure.

"Oh god, Nathan..." she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder. He held her close, his lips finding her neck again as he continued to move within her. The sensation of her body wrapped around him was exquisite, and he couldn't help but lose himself in the feeling.

His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, as he felt the pressure building deep inside him. He could feel the familiar tightness begin to coil in his stomach, the sensation that told him he was close. He gripped her hips, guiding her body as she rode him, their rhythm growing faster and more frantic.

Y/N arched her back, meeting each of his thrusts with a moan of pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving trails of pain and pleasure as they moved across his skin. She felt him tense beneath her, felt the hot spurt of his release as he came, filling her up and sending her spiraling over the edge.

Her body trembled with the force of her own orgasm, her inner muscles clenching tight around him in a long, shuddering release. Nathan held her close, their sweat-slicked bodies moving together in unison as they found their way back to a gentle rhythm. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmured, still holding her close. "I've missed you."

She let out a shaky breath, her heart still racing from the intensity of their encounter. "I've missed you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. "I don't know what happened. I don't know why we..."

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, his lips soft and reassuring. "It doesn't matter," he said. "We're here now, and we can figure it out together." He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as they settled into a gentle embrace, their bodies still joined in a quiet, intimate connection.

Outside the closet, the world continued on, oblivious to the passion that had just played out within its walls. But for now, it was just the two of them, lost in each other's arms, finding their way back to something that felt inexplicably right.

[detectivereads]

Olhava Almost Crashes a Wedding and Owain the Assassin

Owain’s training and Olhava travels alone

After things calm down Owain and Olhava asks the Bullywugs (Udon, Rudon and Wudon) information and asks them to join the cause to fight the Hour Glass Coven.

Udon who is the magic user of the group explains the Sticky Fingers guild (their guild) are part of the protectors who are ready to go up against the Witches and they pledge their loyalty to the cause. Owain then asks if they could train him their way.

Udon seeing how Owain handled the decay monster and agrees to teach him how to be a Assassin. (Player me is trying to image how Sage and Owain are going to met up, Sage seeing her baby frog a gristle assassin falling monster left and right.)

Owain and Olhava talk for a bit, they both agree that Olhava should seek out the Stags and see what their answer is because this was the 3rd monster they felled in 2 days and things seem to be escalating quickly.

So, Owain would stay with Udon in Tavren Meadows training, while Olhava first travels to Fairy town and see if they are ok since they are right on the border of the Dreamgrove where the witches are hold up right now. Then Olhava would travel to the Field of Harvest to seek Bramblehoof and see what the answer is.

Owain bids Olhava safe travels and to be careful.

Fairy town and the Castle in the Sky

Olhava goes on ahead to meet with his Stag people, but Owain suggested to hit Fairy town and see if they wanted to join up with army that will take on the Hour Glass Coven.

Once there they meet the mayor of Fairy town Willow. Olhava sets up the sales pitch and asks if the town would join or help the war.

However, Willow explains that they have a deal with Cloven, they don’t help the resistance and the witches won’t mess with them.

The most they would do is give directions to where the stags are located, and Olhava leaves.

Olhava the Uninvited

Olhava got to Field of Harvest (Located in the Autumn area) but before he makes it he pass by Murkendaw; it was described as a port/landing town of lake of dreams and in the middle of the lake high on a water fall Olhava sees a castle. Olhava decides to keep a mental note of this place where he had a mission and he needed to get back to Owain.

Getting to the Field of Harvest Olhava sees a massive clan of stags like himself, then he noticed someone made a noise and then sees the familiar figure of Bramblehoof running up to him.

Bramblehoof is freaking out asking why Olhava is here, Olhava explains that time is running out that an answer was needed, and he also told her that Olhava and Owain had dealt with another decay creature.

Bramble still a little upset understands and explains that he is getting married to Sliver Horn’s clan in a political marriage to merge her clan and the Moon clan together, she is not happy but she has to do this.

So, Bramble brings Olhava to Silver Horn.

In the center of the camp, Olhava is greeted by a massive pure white stag with antler huge, Silver Horn demands who is the outsider.

Olhava tells the story of how he fought alongside Bramble’s herd with the decay creatures, and he is looking for allies to side with them against the witches.

Red stag snarls when Olhava mentions the witches.

Silverhorn seems to be a bit more agreeable, but still a little miffed that Olhava came here without an invite.

So, Olhava has to prove himself in a fight with the groom Wild Heart the red stag from before.

Ok I tell you this now this fight was amazing, Olhava using every trick in the book that was available to him kept wailing on Wild Heart and at the end where it looked really dicey Wild Heart almost cast Moon Beam (a Clan Spell) on Olhava, which cause Silverhorn to steps in and stop the fight chewing out his son, that spell is use for serious battle not clan disputes.

Olhava now is a member of the Moon Clan and he stayed for the wedding Sliver Horn also said that the Moon Clan is ready for a fight and when they are needed they will be there.

Owain’s training Montague

Durning the course of Olhava’s wedding crashing thing, Owain stayed behind at Tavren Meadow with Udon and the Sticky Fingers Guild.

I as player learned that Athletics are not Owain strong points, the training was like lot more grueling, but when it comes to the actual art of Assassination and sneaking Owain is the Tops.

While waiting for Olhava to return the guild told epic tales of a legendary Grung hero Boko the Daring, the guild tells that last epic battle that Boko fought a Dragon tree thing, and he went missing after that. So, Owain wanted to investigate the tree to see if there is anything that could help in the fight.  

Olhava Returns and going forward.

Olhava returns to the meadow and meets up with Owain they both turn to the guild and ask if they guild is willing to join in the fight against the witches and they agreed. Wudon comes up to Owain and hands a badge, the badge had a frog’s hand on it, Wudon had invited Owain to be part of the Stick Fingers guild which Owain agrees. Owain wears the badge with pride.

The group agrees they need to see if the summer court is now ok to ask for help in the fight, then the plan is to go over to Spring and get aid there.

(End of Session)

Player’s note

Ok this was a hard session because I wanted to keep quiet out of respect for Olhava’s player, it was their time to shine, but when we found out that Olhava almost crashed a wedding, I was devastated.

But I was not upset to see that now Owain is now an Assassin and he join a gang.

The DM and I were joking that Sage is going to be floored on what happened.

[lordkingsmith]

@augment-techs @skyland2703 and the part two. This is like all I’ve got so far. And probably all I’ll have. Maybe I’ll stick it into something on ao3, like suggested but for now enjoy it because these scenes make me giggle and I just can’t get them outta my head so we might as well all enjoy this lol

Ollie watched Jack corral his friends across the park, trying to figure out how someone this exhausted, awkward and polite had gotten into the friend group of…these assholes. His current working theory was Jack’s apparent wild lifestyle had pulled him into their lives, and his recent decision to get out of the nepo baby party boy lifestyle had turned him into the mom friend while his friend group were still…this.

“So. How’s the babysitting going?” Ollie scooted over to let Eugene sit beside him. He shrugged and waved a hand at the friend group.

“How it usually goes. He’s the only one keeping them under any sense of control.” He sighed, propping his chin on his knees. “They’re teasing him about hiding from the Spectronizers. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how topsy turvy that is. They’re a threat here and small potatoes there.”

“And none of his friends really understand.” Eugene looked at his nails as Mihaly got pulled back to the group. “How are you two doing? He slipped up yet? Brezziana’s let some interesting information go, but you and Jack…”

“He’s uh.” Ollie cleared his throat. “Like I said. He’s aware about why I’m here. I guess that’s the downside of his mom being similar to Drakkon?” He considered, not for the first time, telling Eugene Jack was working with the Coinless and Dancers. It’d be easy, and he’d be rewarded.

Drakkon had been beyond furious that night, had dragged everyone into the throne room demanding to know who’d let Orange in and how the Ranger had gotten out. Cold eyes had eventually settled on Ollie, and Ollie was called forward to stand in front of him alone. “I’ve been able to account for most of my sentries.” He said with a quiet malice. “But not you.”

Ollie felt the cold certainty he was finally going to die, when Jack pressed against him, his hand on Ollie’s shoulder. “He was with me.” Jack said apologetically. “He took me back to my quarters, and wouldn’t let me leave. There hasn’t been any time for him to check in, I guess.” Ollie looked up at Jack who looked down at him. “It’s easy to get lost in the shuffle, your highness.”

“Yes yes” Drakkon drawled. “I know his movements that point. But he left.”

“Your highness, the Spectronizers are from my reality.” Jack said, formally, and if possible even more apologetically. “Where one goes there’s usually the whole team. Ollie did a parameter sweep to make sure there weren’t any using their teammate as a distraction. I was afraid for my life, and the lives of my companions. I apologize.”

Drakkon’s eyelid twitched, before he waved them off. “Next time you send your guard off-alone-let others know. And Akana-report in.”

Though Ollie doubted he’d believed either of them fully. Jack wasn’t allowed anywhere without Ollie and at least two others following at a distance. And Ollie was stuck having to explain his movements any time he so much as went to get Jack something from elsewhere in the castle.

It would be so easy to claim Jack had caused him to fall asleep or something, and had let the Spectronizer in while unguarded. Tell Eugene and be done with babysitting the prince. But Jack had protected him without even knowing for sure Ollie had helped Orange. That kind of betrayal didn’t sit right with Ollie.

“How’s taking care of Cygnus?” He asked instead.

“Oh you know. Genius inventors.” Eugene rolled his eyes. “Cygnus’ obsession with time and space and Night Swan is almost admirable. But I’m always happier when I can take a break.”

Ollie blinked. “Thought Drakkon would have had you…you know…”

“Oh; no. Cygnus is strictly a woman’s man. Drakkon just knows I had a friend like him, once. A long time ago.” Ollie wanted to ask more, questions burning about the captain, when Jack started shouting at Wanderlust.

“Wander stop!”

Ollie’s attention snapped back to the group, and mentally began counting as Jack began running towards him and Eugene. Mihaly tackled him to the ground as Ollie was pushed back down from his partial standing position by blue hands from behind. Eugene jumped as Ollie stared up at yellow eyes and a manic grin.

“Hi” Wanderlust said brightly. Fingers slid from Ollie’s shoulders to his chest, the claw rings tapping over his heart. “Bad day to decide to be plain clothes” Eugene grabbed the hands and wrenched them off of Ollie.

“Your highness, if you want to keep visiting your brother, don’t threaten his bodyguard in a public park.” Eugene managed, voice nearly shaking as Ollie scrambled away from the situation. Wanderlust didn’t seem particularly bothered. He stepped away from Eugene and turned his attention back to Ollie. Ollie clenched his fists and leveled him his darkest glare.

“Let me do my job, your highness.” He snapped. “I’m not here for you.”

“Pity.” Wanderlust sighed dramatically before grinning again. “Watch your step, little sentry. And try not to lose the beat.”

Ollie’s brow furrowed as Jack lunged against Mihaly’s arms. “Wanderlust don’t you dare-”

At the same time as Ollie uttered “what are you talking about”

At the same time as Wanderlust pushed Ollie through a portal, and Ollie was no longer on earth in the simple space of two steps.

He had the time to realize he was no longer wearing a red shirt and jeans and was now wearing a blue sleeveless hoodie, red elbow length fingerless gloves and black skinny jeans with holes in the knees and red lace sewn over. Shoes had gone from combat boots to ballet flats. He was also somewhere, a city street in the cusp of dusk/ And then Wanderlust walked through after Ollie.

The portal shifted to show Jack still held by his other friends and Ollie continued walking quickly backwards from Wanderlust.

“I’m not gonna hurt you” Wanderlust laughed. “We’re just going to have a little dance, and then I’ll give you back safe and sound.” Ollie’s heart thundered in his chest while he struggled to pretend like he wasn’t terrified.

“You’d better let me go back” Ollie said coolly. “Or I won’t have a choice but to tell your empress you’re endangering the truce, Prince.”

“Dance with me” Wanderlust said with a smile. “And then I’ll give you back to my brother and he can make you feel all better.”

Ollie took a breath through his nose before offering his hand. “Fine” he grit out. Music began to swirl around them as Wanderlust pulled him close. He wasn’t sure if the music was controlling him or if he and Wanderlust were controlling the music, and there were times when it felt like music was a liquid wave pulling him under as Wanderlust laughed, pulling him along.

Ollie could barely keep up especially as the world changed around him and Wanderlust. To his surprise, he found he could alter the flow of the dance to some extent against Wanderlust. Each time he did he saw flickers of someone very different. Dark eyes like Jack’s, a braid made up of the smaller braids currently swinging freely. Shorts in place of bell bottoms. Ollie knew he could figure out what the scared, good version of Wanderlust was saying if he could only make out the lyrics-but the song-it was going too fast-

At one point Wanderlust let him go into a spin, and arms pulled him from the frenetic, insane dance into the comparative quiet stillness of earth. Eugene steadied Ollie before passing him to Jack. Jack pressed his hands to Ollie’s face as Ollie tried to get the earth to stop spinning.

“Hi” Jack said soothingly. “Hi. You’re okay. You did really well.” And a moment later “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was helping Ollie move to the bench again as he continued apologizing and congratulating him in equal turns.

“Stop apologizing for him.” Ollie said sharply as he was sat down. “You’re not in charge of his actions.”

Jack bit his lip. “Yea” he agreed quietly “but neither is he.”

Ollie turned to Jack and Jack shrugged. “A few years ago, my mom brainwashed Wanderlust, Sara, Brezziana and Mihaly. I couldn’t get to them in time, I don’t think my mom wanted me part of the group.” He sighed as they watched Eugene tell Wanderlust off. “I’m just trying to keep them from doing anything that would keep the selves they were before up at night.”

“Some job you’re doing” Ollie snarked, before wincing. That was mean. “They’re their own people, even like this. You can’t…you can’t blame yourself for anything they do.”

“I’m still responsible” Jack said softly. “I’m the oldest. It’s my job to at least try to keep them safe.” He smiled wanly at Ollie. “And you. I’m not going to let him near you again. Promise.”

Ollie wrapped his hand around Jack’s hand and squeezed. Jack squeezed back.

-*-

“Ow!”

“Hold still, Ollie!”

Adam grabbed Ollie’s face to keep him from pulling away from tweezers. “You’d think after everything tweezers wouldn’t phase you.”

“It phases me because it hurts!” Ollie whined, annoyed and tired. “Why do I even have to do this? I’m going to look like some kind of-brainless bimbo.” He was smacked on the back of his head by Eugene, who was trying to go through all the corsets, dresses racy suits, shoes and anything else Ollie would need to look presentable at a ball.

Due to Ollie digging in his heels over it, it had been slow going and frustrating for everyone. “Why” he asked again “am I going?”

“Rito Revolto is understandably pissed at his sister’s death” Adam said patiently. “And Drakkon wanted Night Swan to be there as Rito likes music. Helps smooth ruffled feathers.”

“And it shows a united front” Eugene added.

“And it shows a united front” Adam agreed. “But she’s dealing with something in her reality, so Jack has to go to represent her.”

“Yes” Ollie drawled. “I understand. But why am I representing The United Empire of Eternyx with Jack and the other two.”

“Sara and Night Swan are both from earth.” Eugene said. “Whether you like it or not Jack’s brother’s little stunt made you a Coach, a user of Flow. You represent the world as well as Brezziana or Cygnus or Jack.”

“Be grateful Drakkon agreed with the suggestion.” Adam muttered while going back to the eyebrows. “You’d be there either way. Either you’re a party goer enjoying the party or your what they’re enjoying.”

Ollie swallowed. “I…never realized how depraved he was before. Um.”

Adam smiled slightly. “It’s fine. At least you’re not in the thick of it?”

“But you two are.” Ollie protested. “And Jack-I mean. Adam. Jack. Kept coming onto you. He’s not any different.”

“To Jack’s credit he’s apologized in person and through you, and has kept his word he’ll stay away from the shit that makes him like that” he set the tweezers down, looking at Ollie thoughtfully. “Which he’s so far done. Maybe you stay between him and the alcohol tonight. I’m not sure if we can afford him embarrassing himself in front of Rito.”

Ollie breathed out. “I can do that.”

Eugene hummed as he held up something behind Ollie for Adam to inspect. “Think this will do?” He asked. Adam gave a thumbs up.

“Feathered corset? It’ll match Jack’s suit.”

Ollie gripped his knees. “And all of his friends.” He said lowly. “No feathers, Eugene, please.”

“They’re not black feathers” Eugene said with renewed annoyance. “Or green. You’re not going to be mistaken for them.”

“I’m not his friend.” Ollie said, feeling like he had to get up suddenly. “I don’t want to be mistaken as one of his friends.”

“No feathers then” Eugene sighed, and the corset was tossed to the pile. “Pity.”

Adam got up. “Hey. I’ll handle the clothes. You get the make up.”

They switched places and Eugene sat in front of Ollie, studying his face before picking up a jar of lipstick and a brush. “I’m going to mimic what you looked like in that reality, to a point. Subtly align you with them.”

Ollie sighed, but let Eugene handle it.

It was worth it when he saw the look on Jack’s face. Jack himself was beautiful. He’d gone from red suit and feather capelet to a dark shimmery black suit, which flashed red and orange in the right light like some sort of galaxy. His hair and lips were now black, with a few streaks of his familiar blood red in his hair. The vest was red with orange threading in the design of feathers.

Jack took Ollie’s breath away. And made him feel underdressed in comparison. He’d gotten stuck with a corset anyway. Red and blue, and reminded Ollie of lava and ice. A sheer, shimmering dark blue capelet and red pants and black boots finished the look. Jack brushed purple gloved fingers over Ollie’s arms with something like awe and concern in his dark eyes.

“Are you cold?”

Ollie actually felt like he was boiling. He shook his head.

“Can you breathe?”

“…is that important to you?”

“Can’t dance or sit for hours if you can’t breathe Ollie.”

“I can breathe fine. Eugene and Adam were worried about that too.” Ollie said, and Jack smiled.

“Thank the grid for them, then.” When Ollie gave him an odd look he tilted his head. “Everyone here uses the term. Did I use it wrong?”

Ollie couldn’t help but smile, pushing down some odd sense of unease. “Nah. You used it right. Come on, we need to go mingle.” Not that he wanted to, and it didn’t seem Jack wanted to either. Jack exhaled though and offered his arm.

“Stay close to me, and let’s make some heads turn.”

Cygnus and Brezziana met them inside, before Brezziana peeled away from Jack and Ollie to go see if any of the female red sentries were available for flirting. Jack wrapped his arm tightly around Ollie’s waist as Drakkon approached, resplendent in his debauchery.

“Young Swan, Akana.” He greeted. “You two seem…close. Wonderful!”

Jack only inclined his head. “I promised I’d keep him close. I’m used to these sorts of parties. Sentry Akana is not. Plus, he’s promised to be my spotter, pull me out of temptations.”

“No drinking.” Ollie clarified. “And no magic.”

Drakkon smiled, bowing to Cygnus beside them. “You three sit with me. Do you mind sitting beside Rito, Jack?” Cold eyes looked down on Ollie knowingly. “Charm him.”

Cygnus tapped his fingers together, head cocked. “Perhaps I could sit by him then? He can use magic, and I mix magic and technology all the time. I’d love to pick his brain. He…has a brain, yes?”

Drakkon’s attention went from Ollie to the cyborg inventor. Jack squeezed Ollie’s waist.

“Events of Rito’s life drove him insane from what I understand. But as far as I know, yes, the lich has a brain still in his skull.”

Cygnus spread his hands. “Ah! Perfect company then! Mad man, mad scientist. We shall be best of friends by night’s end.”

Ollie would have felt grateful if he hadn’t caught Cygnus calculating smirk. He grit his teeth and turned his head. Drakkon smiled. “Well, we’ll see. Thank you Cygnus.”

Jack stayed out the conversations with Rito, who only focused on him long enough to bring up the fact they were both children of warlords. Ollie mildly wondered if this was why Drakkon actually wanted them to talk. However it was better that Cygnus covered for them and Jack could just sit back. He hadn’t been kidding when they first met, parties seemed to exhaust him.

Eventually there was enough of a lull in the conversation with Rito calmed down enough for Jack to be able to make excuses to slip away. Ollie didn’t immediately follow, but Drakkon giving him a lingering eye and he was also making excuses to check on Jack.

“Jack?” Was asked as the door to their bedroom clicked shut. Jack flinched where he was sitting on the bed. “Are you alright?”

Jack looked up at Ollie before smiling at him. “Fine. I’m fine. I hate those kinds of parties.” Ollie sat beside Jack to rub his back. They sat in silence while Jack relaxed in increments.

“Go to bed, I’ll watch the door.” Ollie offered. Jack turned to him, hand on his knee to keep him from moving. Ollie’s heart picked up speed and began beating in double time. They moved in halting motions closer together, as though asking silently “is this alright. Can we”

Their lips met with Jack cradling Ollie’s face in his hands. Ollie slid his hands over Jack’s chest to rest lightly on his shoulders. Jack pulled away from Ollie with a soft sigh. “I’m going to get the corset off of you, and then lie down with me. Please.”

-*-

“You’ve got to be more careful, ‘Sunset’ the Yellow Spectronizer cautioned Jack. “You’re doing way too much. And trusting Cygnus way more than you should.”

“Don’t have a choice with Cygnus” Jack said while pulling his hood down further over his face as they walked in Cygnus City. “And going to get the meds-they needed it. I wasn’t going to just sit there and know people were going to die.” He took a deep breathe. “Not again.”

“Well Sunset you’ve got what, ten minutes before you need to actually be present at the tower?” Jaune shook his head. “Political hostage, our orange, one of the heads of the Dancer rebellion. Prince of the empire…Slow down or you’re going to burn out. Badly.”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll get going. But that file is everything I know about what’s going on for the next few weeks.” Jaune looked at the drive in his hand before looking back at Jack.

“If you’re caught, your guard going to be okay?”

Jack hesitated. “Akana? I-” he had to stop to gather his thoughts. “I’m going to make sure he’s safe. He’s danced here before, he took to the flow well, if anything happens to me I’m going to make sure nobody can ever find him.”

“You really care about him.”

Jack smiled sadly. “Yea. That’s how my friends got hurt. I’m just going to make sure my feelings don’t end up hurting him.”

“You better hurry, Jack. And if you need, your team’s here. We can grab him if you need us to.” Jack nodded gratefully before rushing to get back to his room in Swan Tower where his copy was ‘sleeping’.

Drakkon and Night Swan were having another meeting, and Jack had been for the most part stuffed back into his childhood bedroom. At the very least he had Ollie with him, instead of being trapped in the dark oppressive space alone. He just hoped he’d never have to leave Ollie to fend for himself in Eternyx or trapped in that dark room. He hoped he could leave Ollie in one of the danciverses that was warm, and beautiful with the sun.

-*-

“Orange you need to leave” Ollie whispered as he stared at the Ranger in the alley behind Swan Tower. “Night Swan’s on the war path. You’re gonna get killed.” Or made an example of. The ranger slumped against the wall behind him.

Ollie gasped. Orange was bleeding. “Ranger Slayer” the Ranger gasped with a wry laugh as Ollie stared. “Guess she’s got that name for a reason huh.”

“Let me look” Ollie pressed into him as the orange pressed back away from him, hand over his stomach.

“No” the orange’s tone was firm.

“Let me help!” Ollie put his hands over his mouth as his cry echoed. “Please.” He whispered. “Please let me help you.” There was a well of emotion he tried to tamp down. “I don’t want to watch you die.”

“No worries young sentry” Ollie jumped and turned to see Cygnus and…a man with a beard and green and purple punk outfit.

“Rasputin” said the man with a small accent as he tapped his chest. “I know the rangers well.”

“Like…lover of the queen Rasputin.”

“Oh he’s certainly one.” Orange muttered. “She’s had four so far.”

“Rasputin help the ranger make his getaway. I’m in need of a conversation with this young sentry.”

Rasputin saluted Cygnus and wove around them to lift the orange into his arms.

“Power down, sunset. We’ll draw far too much attention.” The older man grunted as they walked away.

“Not yet” Ollie heard, fading. “Not in front of-”

Ollie closed his eyes. Fair.

“Dear little Sentry.” Ollie whipped back to Cygnus. “You owe me. And I’m cashing in.”

Ollie’s eyes snapped open “Owe-for what?”

Cygnus’ eye was cold as he regarded Ollie. He stepped purposefully heel to toe until he was close enough to bend at the waist to look down at Ollie.

“You’re valuable. Flow hasn’t spoken to a guest from earth since what happened to Sara. And it spoke to you.” Ollie thought of the times he was pulled into a dance and could manipulate it before looking back at Cygnus defiantly.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Right after Orange and the other Spectronizers crashed the party and your ranger slayer shot him, Drakkon announced he and my queen were to be engaged.” Cygnus looked livid as he grabbed Ollie by the neck and lifted.

Ollie gasped, struggling for air. “They want power. This won’t mean anything to either of them.” He gasped.

“I gave her this city! I gave her power! She wouldn’t be anywhere without me! And this? This is how she repays me?” Ollie’s feet swung uselessly in the air, eyes wide as he struggled, trying uselessly to get away from the deranged outburst. But after a moment Cygnus composed himself.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how your only role seems to be seducing my adoptive son.” Ollie scrabbled at the hand and Cygnus threw him against the wall.

“And even then Drakkon has been trying to get you into his bed or one of his allies’ beds for months. I’ve kept them away from you as well as Jack. So? now you’re cashing in on all the favors.”

“Or what?” Ollie rasped. “You’ll let him?”

“Hm. I have a list, that’s number twenty seven of what I’ve got planned if you go against me. My Leda decided she’s going to become empress consort of earth-forgetting entirely who made her here. He wants a spy? Fine.”

Cygnus moved to Ollie again, who bit the hand that reached to him on instinct. Luckily it was the flesh hand he bit, and not the cybernetic prosthetic. Cygnus recoiled with a curse.

Ollie tried to run and Cygnus moved quickly to catch him. Ollie landed on his stomach and Cygnus crouched by him, wagging a finger by his face as he pulled him up by his hair. “Ah ah, little one. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you no longer work for Drakkon. You work for me.”

-*-

Jack thought Ollie was going to hit him when he saw the bandages. Instead he just walked out of Jack’s room. Jack pressed his hands over his face as he tried not to scream.

“When was the last time you changed those?” Ollie asked and Jacked looked at him. His hands were clutching a medical aid kit so hard his knuckles were white.

“You’re furious.”

“Completely” Ollie agreed. “But not enough to watch you die from an infection.” He smoothed a hand over Jack’s stomach. “I did that once. Watched my boyfriend die from an infection. Angry or not I’m not going to sit by while you’re hurt. It’s not going to happen again.”

It probably the wound talking but Jack grinned stupidly. “I’m your boyfriend now?”

“Shut up” Ollie sniped, before looking at Jack more gently.

“How long has this been going on.”

“Since I got free of her the first time.” Jack sighed. “Not the rangerdom but working against her. Rangerdom happened after I lost my friends.”

“And you got a new set.”

“…I wish I could call them friends. I just don’t want what happened the first time to happen again.”

Ollie kissed Jack quietly. “I can relate” he said softly. “Now let me work.” Jack brushed his fingers through Ollie’s hair.

“I have something for you.” Jack said after a long moment of Ollie changing bandages and wrestling with himself with this. “Look in my drawer.”

Ollie finished, eyed him, and opened the drawer. Jack closed his eyes as he did.

“Jack”

“Mn”

“This is an ID.”

“Mhm”

“For…Dancity? Isn’t that a city in your reality?”

“Yes and yes.”

“This is my picture but. Jack.”

“Oliver Rose. I know I know. I blanked on good last names so I just gave you Rose. It’s common.”

“It’s yours too.”

“Yea. But I changed my name from Swan to Rose. Again, common name.”

“Why?”

Jack opened his eyes to the sob trapped in the word. “I don’t want you to be trapped here.” Jack told him. “You can leave. You can go anywhere and they won’t be able to find you. You’re free with that. whenever you want you’ll be able to slip away. I’m not going to stop you.”

“But why?” Ollie asked again, voice cracking. “Why?”

“I love you.” Jack said. “And I care about your safety. And I want you to be happy.” He shifted on his bed. “Nobody can control you if you’re under an assumed name several verses away.”

“Without you?”

Jack sighed while shrugging, wincing as he pulled his stitches. “If it comes to it.”

“Jack I don’t want to owe you.”

“When you leave” Jack said again as firmly as he could “be happy. Or try to. You don’t owe me anything I just. I just want you safe.” Because grid and flow damn him both he cared about Ollie and what happened to him. And if he could save one sentry he wanted it to be his.

“You’re expecting to die, aren’t you.”

“There’s worse fates.” Jack shifted. “I’m hoping I’ll die. But I’m expecting several far worse alternatives.” And when he went the way of his friends he didn’t want Ollie to see it.

Ollie pressed his hands to his face and Jack closed his eyes to give Ollie some semblance of privacy. Eventually he pulled Ollie to lay with him, letting the man’s head rest on his chest.

“Promise me.” Jack said quietly. “When this does go south. That you take the ID and you run into the Danciverses as far as you can. Don’t wait on me. Just go.”

But Ollie said nothing and Jack fell asleep waiting for an answer.

Snippets of a coinlessverse Ollie/Jack fic I probably won’t write further than this, and this is probably a part one. The scenes trapped in my head rent free.

But @augment-techs @skyland2703 enjoy my brainrot with me XD

When Ollie had been captured with Aiyon, he’d assumed that would be it. He’d be tortured, degraded and if he was lucky allowed to just starve to death and expire with some dignity. Aiyon had gone by infection after they’d both been beaten to hell and back for information, so Ollie wasn’t too worried about that likelihood.

Even when Lord Drakkon graced Ollie and Aiyon’s cell, Ollie was still not worried about what was going to happen. Even if he assumed he was too low on the ladder of the Coinless for Drakkon to bother with him personally-stranger things had happened. Maybe he’d be made an example of. Annoying, but at least he’d be dead.

Instead Drakkon crouched to where he was sitting, curled in the corner as far away from the now rotting corpse of his ex as he could. The Dictator’s smile was chilling. Chipper to the point of mania. A gloved hand grabbed his face, forcing his head into different angles as his hands partially came up and clenched, trying not to resist. “You’re right.” He said to the two sentries filing in behind him. “He’s the right look. Dirty, but that’s fixable.” Ollie stared at him, confused now.

“Congratulations” Drakkon said gleefully. “On your new career and promotion! Do your empire proud” Ollie tried to bite him and his face was let go before he was slapped, the force sending him into the dirty floor. “Luckily for you, that biting habit is one of the reasons I need you.”

Ollie stared, cheek stinging like hell and felt an impending sense of doom. “Park, Skullovitch. Get him cleaned up. Tend to his wounds and make sure he actually looks like he’s eaten by the time they arrive. We only have three weeks.”

He turned his attention back to Ollie, eyes cold. “I’m going to make an offer you’re not going to be able to refuse.” Drakkon said. “And then I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do to earn it. And then you’re going with my head sentries to do what I tell you. Do you understand?”

Grid damn him, Ollie nodded.

-*-

Sitting in the room full of his mind controlled friends was, frankly, exhausting. Pretending this was fine, and he wasn’t bothered, and he was just as insane as they’d gone actually, was draining. Generally he could get away with letting the other four do their thing and be quiet and in the background; this had always been the group dynamic. It just got complicated when he had to balance that with also being his mother’s right hand beside Cygnus.

Night Swan, with the chosen one and his friends in tow, had made quick work of the other Danciverses. Corrupting or killing or simply capturing the rulers of each as she saw fit. She kept Traveler in her chambers, and Si’ha her personal guard, a swan soldier and unresponsive of the man who still loved her. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill herself on the orders of her mistress and neither would their son, and for that Traveler did what Night Swan told him.

Once Night Swan became self titled empress of the danciverses she decided perhaps it was time to turn her attention back to her birth reality. Unfortunately for her, someone else had already conquered it. Jack and Wanderlust had gone through some weeks ago with an unusually reserved Sara.

Drakkon was not someone even a mind controlled Sara wanted to deal with. Which was concerning to Jack, for a variety of reasons. Sara talked about him the same way she had before the corruption had twisted her. He was the only part of her past she held with the same fear and caution as before.

Making contact had been tense, to say the least. First was the initial meeting, then Night Swan inviting Drakkon and a few of his inner circle to Cygnus City. It’d sparked appearances of the Spectronizers, which had unfortunately led to the rumor Jack was head over heels for Adam Park.

To Jack’s utter chagrin Adam had a knack for almost discovering Jack’s involvement with the Spectronizers and the the rebellion against his own mother. The only way he could get Adam from realizing anything was borderline sexual harassment. However, it seemed to be what everyone expected, Night Swan included for intimidation tactics, so nobody thought twice.

Or so he’d hoped.

Being invited to the earth castle of Drakkon in his city for an extended stay had hit him like a suckerpunch. Despite his protests, he and Cygnus and Brezziana had been volunteered for an extended stay while Drakkon sent over three of his own. The night of their arrival had been a party, and thankfully he’d been surrounded by his friends during the depravity. Temporarily evil or not, having a buffer between himself and the activities of Drakkon’s court. He didn’t like drinking, or drugs. He didn’t like using someone’s body for his own amusement, sexual or otherwise.

He could, however, sit in the room while the other four made fun of it and commented on the human origami and food. Watching, nodding along, quietly looking for an excuse to leave without being rude. They’d been forced to dance for Night Swan and Drakkon when he’d come to their reality. Dancing the whole night until their feet bled and even Wanderlust was starting to hallucinate from fatigue. Jack wasn’t blind to the similarities, even while his friends couldn’t comment. He just braced himself waiting for it to be done.

The night of the first time he’d had to distract Adam Park by attempting to kiss him, he’d had a rare moment with Traveler. Traveler had been pulled out of Night Swan’s rooms for the time being. He looked completely haggard, and Jack had tried to offer him a drink. Might as well be completely black out to deal with the night. They watched Wanderlust, Mihaly, Sara, and Brezziana dance. “You should be there, protecting him.”

“I am.” He muttered. “I’m always protecting him.” He was here wasn’t he? Instead of leading the resistance in person and not with a pseudonym and secrecy? He was here, keeping Wanderlust safe, and alive and away from Night Swan. He was always making sure Wanderlust was the happy one in the situation. But no that wasn’t enough was it? It never was. “I talked her out of poles” he hissed, just to watch Traveler grimace. “I’m trying. Or do you want me brainwashed too? Then who’d help them? You?”

He shoved the drink into his father’s hand and walked away, suddenly needing to cool off. He was handling it. It wasn’t going the way he wanted but he was handling it. There was a problem with a mysterious “Coach Sunset” leading the rebellion, orange and red and dancing hope and chaos into the overrun danciverses.

And okay maybe that wasn’t the best way to do it; but he was working on it. He was! He was doing the best he knew how. Facing Night Swan head on never worked. Subterfuge had to be the way they could defeat his own mother.

Which had led to seeing one of the Spectronizers in Swan Tower conversing with Cygnus with a small drive of information, Adam almost running into the pink, and Jack throwing him against the wall so he didn’t see the two being suspicious. Stuttering out a flirtation and then pretending he was drunk and walking away. Too bad for him it kept happening.

As well as the interesting point of several of Drakkon’s army were now Swan Soldiers, due to badly executed espionage. This had led to them agreeing to a shaky sort of truce, and now here they all were. At this creepy party welcoming Jack Rose as a political hostage.

“C’mon, let’s see your room.” Wanderlust said finally, and Jack nodded gratefully. “This is just getting boring.” Yellow swan eyes swept over the party, glancing over Jack among the throng, uncaring and unimpressed. Jack wanted to shake his little brother. It wouldn’t fix the spell problem but it’d make him feel better.

They went as a group, walking among the mostly empty halls. Sara swung her arms around Jack’s neck, giggling. “Are you ever impressed by anything?”

“The city is impressive” he offered her, hands fisted into his suit pockets. “Maybe I’ll find more to be impressed by the longer I’m here.” She pouted before pinching his cheek and waggling his face back and forth. “Prude. You liked some of Drakkon’s sentries. None of that impressed you huh.”

“I-” he cleared his throat. “They didn’t strike me as having fun? I’d rather be in a place where everyone is having a good time. But” he rolled his eyes. “Yes the naked bodies looked nice, get off now.”

She did, giggling meanly when he rubbed his stinging cheek. He liked her better when she wasn’t…a little witch. Brezziana pointed at their rooms, happily located near each other. And the two sentries next to the doors. Jack groaned low in his throat when his took his helmet off.

Mihaly laughed. “A boy toy closer to your age!” They told him as he could only smile weakly at them, and the guard. His was a red sentry who could almost be Adam’s son, and Brezziana’s was a yellow, a young woman. He could scream.

“Lord Drakkon wishes to show his hospitality” the yellow said. “We’re here as your guards, guides, and whatever else you could need.” Said the young woman. “I’m Rose”

“And what’s your name?” Wander asked after a long moment, smiling wolfishly at the red. The man’s eyes narrowed and Wanderlust laughed. “Oh you’ve got a spicy one Jack!”

He lunged, forcing the red to step back. “Oh how adorable. He’s trembling.” Jack pushed past Wanderlust and the others with a sigh.

“What’s your name?” He asked quietly.

“Ollie. Ollie Akana.” Jack nodded. “Lord Drakkon wanted to make sure no-one here could want for anything.” Jack patted Ollie’s head.

“I’m going to bed” he said, reaching past the sentry. “Alone. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Brezziana snickered. “What the younger model not doing it for you?”

“I just don’t like having sex after parties” he decided on before opening the door and slipping inside. He eyed Ollie watching him almost helplessly, and at the other three looking at Ollie and Rose like they were steak. He gestured for Ollie to come in. “You can guard me better if you’re actually with me.” He decided. Sit by the windows, watch the door.”

When they were both safe inside Jack began undoing his feather capelet. “I know you’re here to spy on me.” He said with a shrug. “So ferry this back to your Lord. I really am sorry about Adam.” He grimaced. “That was incredibly inappropriate.”

“It happened six times!”

“I’ve decided I’m going to not drink anymore. It was a problem, but alcohol is currently off the table. So no more problem.” Jack said after a moment of blanking. “Now. Good night, sentry Akana.” He toed off his shoes and fell face first into the bed, nearly immediately out to the world.

-*-

“Ollie, do you even…like men?” Jack asked, half naked and watching Ollie intensely. Ollie swallowed wrong in quick succession, processing the question and the twining tattoos along Jack’s arms and shoulders. Next thing he knew Jack’s chest was to his back and his fists were wedged under Ollie’s ribs. It didn’t really help. Eventually the sandwich piece dislodged from Ollie’s throat and Jack went from heimleck to hug, wrapping his arms around Ollie’s waist and burying his face in Ollie’s neck as Ollie gasped for air. Olly elbowed him in the stomach when he was able.

“You almost kill me with your question and then just hug me half naked, huh?”

Jack let go, though reluctantly. “It’s not-I’m just glad I didn’t kill you on accident.”

Ollie turned to him, slowly. “I don’t think my preferences matter, here.”

Jack scowled and folded his arms. “They do to me. And I want to know how to treat you. Friend or…” he trailed off, shook his head and tried to walk past Ollie. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” Ollie grabbed Jack around his waist, the ensuing small struggle sending them both tumbling onto the bed. Jack pinned under Ollie, and Ollie staring intently down at him.

“Could always kiss me” Ollie said. “See if either of us like it.” Jack grabbed the helmet off the nightstand and nearly slammed it onto Ollie’s head. Jack patted the helmet like he would Ollie’s cheek as he slid away from the arms.

“Poor thing” he murmured. “Shaking like a leaf” Jack snatched his shirt off the end of the bed and looked at Ollie still standing there, feeling shellshocked and stupid.

“I don’t know.” Ollie said. “What I like. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Ollie Akana” Jack was business like as he began sliding into his suit jacket. “You’re here because your boss wants you to get every secret they can wring out of me. Unfortunately for you I was raised by my mother. You think seduction isn’t something she did? She chose partners based on what they could give her.”

Jack sighed. “So what did Drakkon promise you for fucking me. That’s more important to me.” Ollie felt his cheeks go blazing hot.

“Nothing!” He snapped. “Why do you even care.” Jack shrugged.

“If it’s nothing I guess I don’t. C’mon, I want to see more of the city. Show me around.”

Ollie stared at Jack, who stared at him coolly back before nodding curtly. “Yes, sir.”

-*-

Jack kept the spectronizer orange helmet on as Ollie and the other sentries stared at him, along with the duplicate he’d made before slipping out for the night. Thank the flow, too. He had the urge to grab his little sentry, but saluted them and took off running instead. He had a bag full of medicine pulled directly from Drakkon’s personal med wing, and he knew exactly where to take them.

The only song he could think of was in the hall of the mountain king as thousands of sentries took off behind him. Jack bounced off walls, spun in dance steps and kick flips while protecting the precious goods he’d nicked. Once the Coinless and the Dancers had met, there’d been a synchronized effort to help each other. And ‘Coach Sunset’ was in the perfect place to aid both groups. Orange streaked just ahead of a horde of yellow, red and black. Sunset indeed.

He was close to one of the small side doors to one of the many gardens when a hand pulled him into a small alcove. The helmets were the only things keeping Jack and Ollie from being nose to nose. “Who are you?”

“Spectronizer Orange”

“Got balls, stealing from in the castle itself. What makes you think I shouldn’t go get Drakkon?”

Jack was speechless and he clutched the bag tighter. “There are sick people in the Coinless. Even you-”

“This is for the Coinless?” Jack nodded. Ollie sighed. “Follow me, orange.”

There was a small hole in an evidentially forgotten courtyard. Jack stared at it, and looked back to Ollie.

“Me and-a friend. Used it to get in for medicine.” Ollie said. “He died. I never told them how, and it looks like they never figured it out.”

“When was this? How are you here? Is there anyone I can tell you’re alright?”

Ollie shook his head. “Drakkon offered something I couldn’t refuse. It was a little before that prince and his friends showed up from the dance world” a snort. “And no. Aiyon was the last person who’d care. Plus. I’m sort of a traitor so.”

Jack reached out to Ollie, thought better of it, and used the escape offered. Though he made himself stop and turned back. “Jack Rose…the prince…he works with us.” He said, hoping this information wouldn’t be somehow ferried to Drakkon. “He’s how I got in. You can help us by helping him.” And then he was gone, leaving Ollie in the courtyard.

When he snuck back in as Jack, Ollie was dozing by the window. Jack brushed hair from his face before flinging himself onto the bed, back to Ollie.

Ball was in his court, as was the very real possibility Jack had somehow gotten into a love triangle with himself. He wouldn’t know any of it till he came to it, and with nothing else he could do, he fell asleep.

[moemammon]

When I was in High School, my crush and I got into a fight and neither of us were talking to each other. One day I was headed up the stairwell to get to my science class, when I saw them coming up from behind... I don't think they had even noticed me yet considering that they were busy talking to their friend BUT I am slow going up stairs so even if I rushed up the stairs roadrunner style they would have caught up to me, well; the little corner that connects the steps going up to the second floor and the steps heading down to the ground floor had a large open window... and I jumped out, like I literally just jumped out. I didn't even think it through, I just saw the window and my body was like "Yep, IK what to do." I landed on a bush or tree? It's too big to call a bush but too small to call a tree, landed in a squat before my feet gave out and I fall onto my knees and got two large grass stains on my jeans knee part, couldn't walk right either after that landing, I was shaky all day lol but it was a risk well calculated bc the whole thing would have been so awkward. I mean we used to be like BFFS before the rumors began and then they started and we just stopped talking without warning, we couldn't even look at each other. Our science partners, bc we were in groups of four, literally got fed up of our bullshit bc we literally refused to acknowledge the others existence... anyway, I digress...

Anyway, this whole story is a long winded way of me requesting how the brothers would react to an MC that literally just jumps out windows to avoid awkward moments, or to dodge people that want to ask them for favors, or when they straight up want to avoid someone?

And sorry about the large ass message, but thanks for letting me vent

You have a special place in my heart, window-jumping anon. Just uhhhhhhh look down next time okay? Ily

The Demon Brothers react to GN!MC jumping out of a window to avoid an awkward moment

(Mario jumping sound effect)

Lucifer

He approached you after class to ask exactly what you were snickering at your D.D.D. about during class.

Must've been real funny if you weren't listening to your lecture, huh?

"I imagine you've somehow found something worthy of laughing about in Demonology 101?"

You do not have the guts to tell him that you and Mammon were texting back and forth, abusing a new photo editing app to alter pictures of the eldest himself.

I mean, take a wild guess about how he’d react to seeing how big you edited his head to be-

The avatar of pride lets his eyes pierce into you, like he's trying to stare a hole through your blanket of "uh"s and "um"s,

You don't exactly see a way out of this one, but you can NOT let Lucifer see your photo gallery.

So you glance to your left to the open classroom window, and do the only thing you can think of: you jump.

Luckily you're on the ground floor so you??? really didn't have to jump so dramatically. But the fact that you yeeted yourself into a bush JUST to escape has left Lucifer speechless.

Honestly? He so impressed with your dedication that he's not gonna stop you. Besides, he's gonna see you back at home anyway so-

Also thinks you might be hanging around Mammon too much because that 100% seems like a stunt he’d pull.

Mammon

GIVE GOLDIE BACK RIGHT NOW

He KNOWS Lucifer told you to bring the credit card to him, and he demands to know where it's hidden! He's positive you know where it is!

But you don't really though?? You just brought the card to him like you were asked. If anything, you're the victim here!

But Mammon isn't having that. The avatar of greed is circling around you like an angry cat, patting you all over like airport security to see if you've got his beloved card.

"Where is it, huh?! Ya really think you can steal from THE Mammon?! Even if Lucifer told ya to, who do ya think you are?!"

When he has confirmed that you don't in fact have his previous Goldie, he's now cornering you up against a wall.

If looks could kill, you would've exploded into a fine powder

And you feel like your mental strength is about to do just that. So what do you do after you notices the slightest of breezes caress your face?

You jump outta that open window, before Mammon can even finish his "Wh- Oi! What're ya-"

Even though you just face planted into the garden, you're up on your feet and making a mad dash for somewhere that wasn't here.

Mammon lets you run for ten while seconds before he's hopping out after you. You think you can outfox the Great Mammon?! Think again!!!

Levi

You... weren't interested in this movie in the slightest, but you didn't have the heart to tell Levi that. Especially not after he’d begged/harassed you for the past week about watching it with him!

Reluctantly you agreed, and now you were suffering,,,But Levi was ecstatic! This movie was a classic! Sure it was an old one and the acting was a little bad, but you could overlook that if you watched it with your heart, not your eyes!

According to Levi.

You managed to keep your eyes open for the grueling one and a half hour movie, enduring every corny line of bad acting, horrible CGI, and lame sound effects straight out of a 90s super hero movie, and now the hell was finally over...

Or so you though, until Levi followed that up by immediately pulling out a cosplay outfit worn by one of the supporting characters in the show.

Funny how it seemed specifically tailored to your measurements. Even funnier how Levi was looking at you with those damned eyes.

You knew what he wanted without him even having to say it. But one look at the gaudy outfit he presented to you made your heart burn with a sudden indescribable urge.... to escape.

Honestly you caught him so off guard by suddenly getting up and sprinting out of the room, that he makes a sound that's pretty much the noise equivalent of "?!?!?!?!?!?"

He watches you run down to the end of the hall, throw the window open, and fuckin JUMP. Pretty sure he just witnessed your death??

Also this kinda solidified his 'gross otaku' mentality, seeing as you literally jumped out of a window to get out of cosplaying with him. A simple no would've sufficed, MC.......,.,,..,,,

Hey gamers... can we get an F in the chat? 😔✌️💦

Satan

Satan lent you a book to read last week that he was sure you'd be interested in! He found it pretty interesting himself, so he wants to see if you'd like it as much as he did.

That being said, you don't have the heart to tell him that you,,, didn't read any of it. Well you kind of did, if the cover counts for anything.

You doubt he would accept that as an answer, considering how you told him how much you appreciated receiving the book, and how you'd definitely read it and let him know how it was.

So now, Satan had come into your room with two cups of tea, ready to settle down and have a nice, long talk about your thoughts on the riveting plot that you promised you would indulge in.

"I'm really glad you decided to read it. I found that the protagonist reminded me a lot like you. I'd like to know what you thought about it."

Satan sets down the tea cups, and one sip tells you that he brewed it exactly the way you like.

His expression is eager and warm as he waits for you to begin gushing about just how deeply the story touched you... how absolutely moved you are by the sheer majesty that was the book he lent you...

Okay yeah, you're sweating bullets. You can't imagine how the sparkly eyed avatar of wrath would react to learning that you chose the company of your D.D.D. over Satan's book.

You don't have such an ice cold hard that you can just crush this book nerds dreams like that! And every time you look at his expectant face, the weight of your crimes weigh heavier on you until... you break.

Satan watches in shock and awe as you almost perfectly reenact the big scene where the main character leaps out of the window of a building rigged to explode, before making their escape. And you did just that.

Wow.. he never thought you could be so moved by a story, but he completely understands...

Asmo

How many outfits, Asmo. HOW MANY OUTFTITS WILL IT TAKE TO APPEASE YOU?

He's made you model TWELVE outfits so far, and you swear if you see another ascot, you're gonna lose your mind.

Asmodeus doesn't seem to notice the way the light slowly fades from your eyes, because he's pulling out outfit number thirteen with that cheery smile of his.

"Isn't this one absolutely adorable? Look, this part will look lovely around your waist! This part here hugs your body in all the right places, and this-"

You can't do it. You've gotta get out of here. You'd love to stand around and get mild rug burn from trying on a billion different clothes, but-

Actually no you wouldn't.

You DID promise Asmo you'd hang out with him today, but this wasn't really your idea of a good time.

"-Oooh, just thinking about it makes me want to eat you up~! Here, put it on for me, will you? I'll give you a kiss as a reward!"

You would do no such thing.

You make a mad dash for his ornate window and push it open. He has no time to stop you as he helplessly watches you vault yourself out like the room was on fire.

"MC?! Wh-where are you going?? Come back here! Grass stains are impossible to get out of that fabric!!!"

Beel

He means well. I swear he does. It's just that Beel can be a little... overbearing when he's worried about you. He cares, okay?

But he hasn't seen you eat anything all day! You tell him it's because you've got a stomach ache from who knows what, and you promise you've had little snacks here and there to keep from starving, but he can't accept that!

Eating is important, and you need it to survive. So Beelzebub was currently trying to nudge your mouth open with a pizza slice, while you vehemently refused. "Just one bite. And then another after that. You have to eat, or you'll go hungry... and I don't want that."

Beel knows the true pain of being hungry, and he’d never wish that on you! So just forget about your stomach ache for two seconds and open up-

Not that you really can. The aroma of that pizza was not sitting well on your stomach, and you were pretty sure you needed a fast escape or you'd risk losing your lunch. Greasy foods didn't exactly mix well with sour stomachs...

Beel still won't let up. He has a strong hand planted firmly on the small of your back, as if trying to prevent you from leaning back any further in your attempt to escape the pizza.

"If you eat this, I'll treat you to dessert at Madam Screams," he says, as if bribing your refusal of food USING food will somehow work out.

You can't break his heart, but you seriously can't eat that! Your head is spinning, thoughts racing, face becoming greasier and greasier from the pizza pressed against it, and-

You snap. In a sudden burst of strength you break free from Beel's grasp, and sprint toward the nearest window. All you see is your chance for freedom, and you're taking it.

You leap out and tumble into the ground, all while Beelzebub wonders what?? Just happened???? Did you really hate pizza that much...?

He never knew you were such a picky eater... To think you'd go so far as to jump out of the window though...

Belphie

You thought it was cute at first, when Belphegor wanted you to join him for his naps. And you didn't mind much. It was the weekend, you were tired, and he makes a pretty good body pillow.

But you didn't realize he planned for this to become an everyday thing. The youngest might not act it, but he sure could be spoiled.

But seriously, if you slept any longer, you might never have a normal sleep schedule again! It never occurred to you just how often Belphie sleeps.

He's definitely not human, because there's no way you can keep up with that, and maintain a normal lifestyle.

But the way he quietly, gently grabs your sleeve to cue your next nap session makes your heart clench. Why was it so damned hard to say no to this gremlin??

You were trying your best though, but the words always seemed to get caught in your throat. Belphie picked apart your excuses, doing everything in his power to take you back to the attic.

"You can study when you wake up." "Mammon wants to go shopping? Reschedule." "Lucifer told you not to be late to the board meeting? Just hide."

You're starting to get sucked into the sleepy lull of his voice, and it feels like your entire body is becoming heavy with fatigue. But no.... you resist!

Since there's no escaping this through words, you have to think fast. Fortunately, your fast thinking has led to an amazing solution!

Jump out of the window, baby

Belphie is just??? Did you fuckin???? Are your legs okay??????????????

He probably stops asking you to nap with him for a while, since you're willing to almost break your legs just to get out of it. You're gonna make him have weird dreams....

[erodasfishtacos]

Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now. 

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host. 

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

**

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

**

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt. 

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal. 

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?” 

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible. 

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him. 

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware. 

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

**

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

[literaryobsession]

a king without a crown || xiao x fem!reader

summary: eternally bachelor xiao, the sole heir and son, decides to get married to save the family name

word count: 2154

chapters: i , ii , iii , iv , v , vii ,  epilogue

vi

The queen's throne room had the highest ceilings that he has ever seen in his life. The walls and floors were scrubbed so clean that you could almost see yourself in them. There were portraits, large painted ones, of the queen's family with serious faces - something he, who was born in a very loud family, felt so weirdly about.

He tried to keep his chin held high as he stepped forward to meet the woman sitting on the lone throne, her eyes heavy on Xiao's shoulders. He once heard that she had an intimidating presence and being in the same room as her, confirmed it. 

It wasn’t just her title that demanded respect. It was her brilliance in wars, bringing the entire Teyvat its glory years. It was her ability to rule without a partner, a king by her side, and only relied on her small group of advisors she trusted and loved. It was her talent to turn all that she touches into gold, earning them their wealthiest season under her rule.

The queen is highly regarded in all of the nations and rightfully so.

"Your Highness." He bowed as soon as he approached.

The woman gestured for him to rise before flickering her eyes on the attendants surrounding her, she waved them off and they all rushed to leave the room.

Xiao could feel his heart beating pounding in his chest, anticipating what the queen wanted from someone like him.

“How is your father, Lord Xiao?” Even the most casual of questions sounded incredibly important when she said it.

“My father is well, Your Highness. He extends his regards.” Albeit he didn’t know that he will ever come to the opportunity of meeting the queen, he needed to make sure he pleases her. 

The queen’s face was too serious, her eyes calculating his every move. “I shall make this quick so I do not waste your time and you not waste mine, Lord Xiao. I have high regards for your father, he is a brilliant man. All of his sacrifices to save Liyue during the drought is commendable.” Her voice was calm as she stated the facts and Xiao could feel his heart sinking as soon as the topic went to this one. “I understand that the Duke of Liyue is in grave debt.”

Xiao’s throat felt dry. 

So she knows. She knows everything.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know what transpired as the Duke of Liyue denied my help in that time of need. I understand his desire to be responsible for the nation he loved for so many years but there is arrogance in this.” She rose from her seat, “I did not insist to aid him in his search for a solution.”

The queen offered help and his father refused? Why?

“I respect his....dedication but I am questioning yours.” She stood in front of him, her eyes staring deep in his soul. 

Queen Asmoday surely would not accept liars so he would not even dare to.

Then she turned, facing the portrait nearest to her throne. On that portrait was the queen with her siblings and there is only one child in this picture. He could immediately tell who it was.

“When my brother died from an illness and his wife died shortly after, I took the responsibility of taking in their only child. Did you know that he was supposed to be king, Lord Xiao?” When the gentleman shook his head, she continued, “Well he was but he fell in love, gave up his throne and his titles. He would barely accept dukedom. I owe him where I am and so when I came across an opportunity to pay him back, I took it.”

“My child is precious to me. I may not be her mother but I see her as my only child. Although I cannot pass the crown to her, as there are others in line for the throne, I brought her up with all the opportunities to be someone like me.” She took a deep breath before slowly looking back at Xiao, “ And I am heavily concerned about who tries to take advantage of her.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.” He tried to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground, if he could not find a solution to their problems then at least he would have his dignity. “You need not fret. I desire nothing else from her. I shall take my leave tonight.”

She scoffed and waved off his words, “I don’t need your words, Lord Xiao. I respect your father and I do not intend to think less of the child who will eventually succeed whatever may be left of his...position.”

Xiao opened his mouth to speak but the queen cut him off, “You may go.”

The queen left him dumbfounded in his place as she went back to her throne. His body started moving on its own, wanting to run out of the chamber in utter humiliation. He knew that this entire thing was a bad idea, why did he not stop it?

I can’t leave her.

I don’t want to.

It was as though he was brought back to his senses by the words that resounded in his brain. His entire being crashed back down, stopping him from leaving. Xiao turned his heel and met the eyes of the queen, “I must admit that I came here to provide answers to my family’s problems and I apologize for that. I should have known better.” He didn’t know if he was being courageous or stupid, “ But upon meeting Lady Y/N, I can assure you that I have second-guessed my intentions. At first, it was so clear, I needed to help my family. I needed to secure my sisters. But every single dance, every single touch, every single time I hear her laugh, I see her smile, everything disappears. My responsibilities, my duties, my burdens... They all disappear and I may be such a fool to proclaim this to you but I want to be with her.”

The queen sat up, looking quite surprised at his outburst.

“How could I have known that the person I was hoping to charm, would have such an effect on me?” He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t planning, but he did. He told the queen what he has been hiding.

Admitting to his fault.

Admitting his feelings.

But how could he dare be with you if the intentions he had from the start were already questionable?

“But I am a man of my word. I will be leaving this evening.” Xiao gathered back the broken pieces of himself. His entire being simply burst and broke in front of the queen and he needed to regain his composure quickly before leaving the castle. 

He needed to be stronger if he was to leave your side forever.

You heard the news from Katheryne, Lord Xiao was leaving. Many of the maids were talking about it as he was the most eligible bachelor of the season. You didn’t understand why he would leave, didn’t he enjoy your company earlier?

Wasn’t he the one to overtly imply that he wants you as his wife?

You rushed to Lady Ei’s estate, the carriage bringing you as fast as the horses could manage. It was already dark and the queen almost did not want you to leave but you told her that it was important.

He was important.

He was the only one who could understand. He was the only one who could sympathize with you. He saw through you and you had more to tell him, more to show him.

You felt the carriage stop and you nearly jumped out to run to the other carriage parked in front of the large house. Lady Ei was there, so was your cousin, two other gentlemen, and...

“What are you doing?” You demanded, almost out of breath. Everyone didn’t expect you to be here, it all showed in their faces. 

Xiao looked confused, “What?” 

What are you doing here?

You stepped towards him, demanding answers. Anger blinded you from the fact that your manners practically lay forgotten in your muddled brain, “You know what I mean, Lord Xiao!”

He avoided your eyes but provided an answer. “I am doing what is best for you, Lady Y/N. Do know that.”

What is best for me?

The best thing for me is your departure?

“I am sure I remember you told me you crave my presence yet you act as though I do not exist and you are leaving without even as much as a goodbye? Perhaps that is merely it, isn’t it? Just a craving.” Your heart was breaking. And from what? From the unsaid goodbye of a person, you’ve only known for two days!

“No, you misunderstand.” That is when he whipped his head to you, his voice pleading.

“Well then explain it to me.” Explain it to me, Lord Xiao, because all of the archons know I do not understand why you have to go!

“I...it would be better if I do not.”

You didn’t know why you could feel that unfamiliar pain in your heart. It was as though someone broke through your barriers, grasped your heart, and broke it between their palms and you are left picking up its jagged pieces. “Then why are you deciding for me if you do not have the backbone to tell me what it is that you think you’re doing that is so good for me? You’re leaving and yet you build up such an idea in my head.” 

You wanted to turn back, you wanted to crawl in Katheryne’s arms and cry out in agony. What is this pain?

He reached out for your arm but you shook him off, “I’m sorry. I meant every word, trust me but I am doing this for you.”

“I can make my own choices and I choose you!” You didn’t know why and how it happened but it did. You wanted him by your side, you finally found an ally. Why is that ally leaving you as well? “Lord Xiao, I choose you. I want to be with you.”

There was silence amidst your confession. Lady Ei covered her lips with a hand, not wanting to interrupt. Your cousins and the two gentlemen looked astounded at the sight. And Xiao looked pained as if the confession was such bad news for him. 

He took your hand with both of his and asked you in a quiet voice, “Would you still if I tell you that who you’d be choosing has built this entire fantasy with a lie?”

His tone was soft but you’ve never been so hit hard with the truth all your life. 

“What do you mean?” You tugged your hand away, unable to believe what you were hearing. Did you hear that correctly?

“I came here to get you to marry me because my family is in terrible debt.”

And there it was. 

The reason why this gentleman was so intent in charming you. The reason why he said all of those words. The reason why he continued whisking you off into your daydreams. The reason why your entire idea of a friend started falling apart in front of your eyes.

The reason that made you believe no one would look at you without thinking of what they can gain.

You clenched your fists, trying to hold back the tears but your entire being was so overwhelmed by emotions - you were angry, confused, frustrated, betrayed, and you were...hurt.

This is the first person you really felt a connection with.

Why did he have to be the first person to prove to you that you are nothing without the title you were given?

“You...you used me?” It tasted bitter between your lips but it was the truth, wasn’t it? 

Xiao wanted to hold you, seeing you in such pain as this breaks him. He really did you wrong and there was nothing he could do to remove that dark wound he etched on your relationship forever. "Yes. The marriage I seek is simply to secure your name.” But he wanted to tell you everything that he felt before he leaves. Regardless of whether you believe him or not, Xiao would be contented that you managed to hear the last bit of honesty he could offer you. “But every time I spend with you, I feel as though my responsibilities do not matter. With you, I realize that there is more in the world aside from titles and lands. I constantly fall in the ravine that is you, and the archons know how I do not want to be saved."

Your tears started, unable to contain it much longer. 

How can you lie while saying such beautiful words, Lord Xiao?

“How can you think I will still trust you after all that?”

tagging: @macaroniwiththechickenstripz , @scaraslover , @alatusorrow, @saduko

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 2)

i quite liked this story and thought it totally had potential for more, so i’ve cooked up a part 2, continuing the idea. i have no clear plan with this, just enjoyed taking the story further, but i might turn it into a proper series if you guys are enjoying the concept!

pairing:  Harry x actress!reader

word count: ~3.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

The car comes to a halt and you look up from your phone after being so occupied with texts you’ve been ignoring all afternoon.

“We’ve arrived, Miss,” The driver, Lawrence informs you in his usual, polite manner, looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you breathe out grabbing your purse from the seat next to you. “I don’t think I’ll take too long, I’m not really in the mood to party,” you let him know, quickly running your hand through your hair before getting out, already knowing paparazzi is waiting for all guests at the entrance probably.

“Had a long day?” he asks with a soft smile.

“Kind of,” you sigh nodding. “I’ll text you when I’ll feel like heading home soon, alright?”

“Perfect. Have a great night, Miss,” Lawrence nods.

“Thank you,” you nod at him before opening the door and getting out of the car. Strategically, Lawrence stopped just a few buildings away from the club, so you wouldn’t be attacked right away, emerging from the car. This gives you enough time to fix your dress and avoid your private parts to end up on the tabloids. Not something you want to include in your career, if you’re being honest.

Shutting the door closed you head towards the club that has quite a long line of people waiting outside, though you have no idea why. If they are not on the list, there’s no way they’ll get inside, it’s a private party.

As you approach the entrance, people start to recognize you quite quickly and you hear your name coming from all direction, but you just flash a smile in their way, continuing to walk with the intention of getting inside as fast as possible.

Just as you expected, paparazzi are already waiting at the entrance and they start flashing their cameras in your way right away, throwing all kinds of questions at you that are left completely ignored.

The bouncer checks your name on the list and lets you inside without a fuss and you’re happy to leave the madness behind and mingle in the crowd of familiar faces.

Tonight is the celebration of the birthday of a good friend, a quite old friend of yours. Florence and you met quite some years ago, when both of you were only trying your luck in the industry, working hard to make yourselves a name. Now you are both are in the inner circle of Hollywood, piling iconic roles on your resumes together. So much has changed, people keep coming and going in your life, but the two of you managed to stay close and keep each other grounded when it was needed.

You keep saying hello to the people you know as you make your way through the guests, hugging a few guests, asking if they have seen Florence and they all point towards the bar. Unsurprisingly, you find the birthday girl right there, with a group of people circling around her as the bartender places a row of shots to the counter and her eyes light up at the sight of all the alcohol.

“Not even surprised you are already plastered,” you grin at her and she squeals upon seeing you join the little circle. Throwing her arms around you she jumps at you mumbling her greeting.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” she breathes out, clearly over a few drinks at this point. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages!”

“It happens when we are both working on a movie at the same time, in different cities,” you chuckle giving her a look.

This past month has been rather busy, you were in Atlanta finishing up filming your latest movie while Florence was in Palm Springs, working on Don’t Worry Darling, she barely made it back to the city to her own birthday party, apparently they wrapped filming just two days ago so it was a close call.

“You have to take a shot with me!” she urges, already grabbing two shots from the bar and handing you one of them, not even waiting for your answer.

“Cheers to the birthday girl!” you hold your glass up after everyone else grabbed a shot, everyone around wishes her a happy birthday again before sending down the alcohol.

You can’t help the grimace that pulls on your face as the liquor burns down your throat. It’s been a while since the last time you had anything other than a few glasses of wine, it’ll take some time to get used to the stomach churning taste.

As the host of the party and the birthday girl, Florence’s presence is in high demand, so you don’t get to spend too much time with her, but you don’t blame her. Ordering a longer drink for you, sticking with some tequila based cocktail as you mingle in the crowd of guests.

Luckily, there are quite a lot familiar faces and you don’t have to linger around the club on your own. You move to a booth at the side with Sydney, a producer you and Florence both worked together previously. She is pretty new in the world of films, but she surely is a talent and you can’t wait for everyone to realize what a blessing she and her art is. You’re joined by her girlfriend, Emma and the three of you are deep in conversation, sharing the funniest stories that happened to you lately and surprisingly, you are genuinely having a good time. You really weren’t in the mood for a party after such a long and frustrating day, having scrunched in three auditions to one day because your manager messed the dates up. When you finished with the third ones, you wanted nothing else than to just sink into a nice bath, have a glass of wine and go to bed early, making your friends’ point of you being a grandma quite valid. However you didn’t have the heart to cancel on Florence, but now that you’ve had some alcohol buzzing in your system and some good company, you don’t regret coming at all.

Once you get to the end of your drink you head back to the bar to have another one, not feeling like leaving just yet. Pushing your way through the people, some keep saying hi to you and you greet everyone back with an instinct, even if you don’t know them. Something you’ve grown to do over your years being in the spotlight.

Standing in line, just like everyone else, you patiently wait to get to the front, when you feel someone bump against you from behind.

“Excuse me—Oh! If it isn’t my favorite Never Have I Ever game partner!”

Your eyes are met with a pair of green ones and a dimpled smile, you can’t help but chuckle as you turn to greet Harry.

“Hi there! Long time no see!” you smile as he pulls you into a side-hug and stands with you in the line.

“You know, maybe you would’ve seen me earlier if you actually gave me your number,” he comments with a sly smile and you have nothing to defend yourself with, he is completely right.

That day the two of you met on The Ellen Show you were actually planning to give him your number, but once your part of the filming ended your manager called you about something urgent and you couldn’t wait for him to finish as well, leaving the studio without ever giving him the chance to even ask for your number. You felt guilty and a little disappointed, but thought your paths would sooner or later cross somehow and it seems like you were right.

“I’m sorry about that. I had some papers to sign before the office closed, I had to leave,” you apologize truthfully and he nods understanding.

“S’alright. I was a little bummed, but I get it.”

“So what are you doing here?” you ask, moving forward in the line, getting closer to the front. Harry gives you a quick look that you can’t quite read before answering.

“I uhh—Florence and I filmed together last month.”

That’s when it clicks. She told you and you read about it, but you tend to forget these kind of things, not having enough capacity to keep everything in mind, only restricting it to the most important stuff.

“Oh, right! Yeah, sorry. Totally slipped my mind. Sorry, I sounded like I live under a rock,” you awkwardly chuckle, feeling a little ashamed that you didn’t remember, when Florence even mentioned it herself before she travelled to Palm Springs, but you were running on caffeine and protein bars between takes, it’s a luck you didn’t even forget your own name after those busy weeks.

“No, s’alright. Nice to know not everyone is drowning in the content that’s been put out of me lately,” he chuckles lowly. “You look lovely, by the way,” he nods at you, eyes running down your body quickly, before they return to your gaze.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out looking down at yourself, as if you forgot what you were wearing. It’s a little, black Gucci dress, quite vintage with some embroidered floral patterns along the slightly daring neckline. “It’s Gucci,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Oh!”

“Know you are obsessed with it,” you add with a chuckle, seemingly surprising him with your knowledge about him.

“Someone did some research about me then?”

“I’ll admit, I might have searched your name one of those nights after I had a nice glass of wine.”

“And what else did you find out about me?” he arches an eyebrow at you, making your cheeks heating up. You shouldn’t have admitted that you searched him, he’ll think you’re some kind of stalker, which you are not, you just like to catch up on things sometimes. Though you are clearly a fan of his music and you know about his career vaguely, you haven’t been keeping an eye on him that closely lately, only because you didn’t have the time. However after meeting him at the taping, he was stuck on your mind for days before you gave in and checked out what he’s been up to lately and went through some in-depth articles about him from the past years, closing the line with his latest Vogue issue.

“Nothing shocking,” you simply answer and luckily, you are next up at the bar. You ask for another cocktail and Harry chimes in, adding a beer to the order.

“I hope you know I won’t let you leave until you give me your number this time,” he smirks at you cheekily, making you chuckle.

“I never said I would give it to you.” Wanting to play a little you shrug innocently, earning a stunned look.

“Making me work for it? Alright,” he nods, trying his best to hold his grin back.

The bartender comes back with the drinks and Harry is quick to whip his card out and pay for yours as well. You’re not surprised when he follows you back to the booth to Sydney and Emma. They both greet you with bright smiles upon arriving with Harry.

“This is Sydney and Emma. Syd and I worked together a while ago. Ladies, this is—“ You start the introduction, but Sydney cuts you off quickly.

“Harry Styles. You don’t have to introduce him to us,” she chuckles shaking hand with the fourth guest at the table. “I was a big One Direction fan,” she adds with a chuckle and that’s a new information. As a former fan girl, she is holding herself quite alright in the presence of her idol.

“Oh, nice!” Harry beams, genuinely looking delighted at the information.

“Her playlists have at least one One Direction song on them still this day,” Emma laughs shaking her head, while Syd just shrugs innocently.

The four of you are quick to engage in a conversation about music, mostly about what you listened to when you were teenagers and you are having some laughs at the odd taste you all used to have.

“I think my most played song was Crazy by Britney Spears. I was obsessed with that song,” you admit and Emma groans throwing her hands in the air.

“I loved that song! Even learned the choreography!” she shares, making everyone laugh around the table.

“I bet you did too,” Harry grins in your way over his half empty beer.

“Totally did not,” you scoff with a pretentious grimace that makes it clear that you in fact did.

“I would give an arm to see you dance to that song,” he sighs with an amused grin and you just chuckle, taking another sip from your drink.

At one point Florence joins the booth, buzzing from all the birthday shots she’s been constantly taking, but making sure you all are having a good time.

“I see you guys met again!” she beams looking at you and Harry sitting next to each other. “Y/N, wanna hear something funny?” she smirks at you with glistening eyes.

“Always,” you chuckle softly.

“Once on set, I caught Harry stalking your Instagram.” The man in talk almost chokes on his beer as Florence starts laughing, clearly enjoying how she just busted her co-star, but you are having a blast at how nervous her comment got him and you find the story quite flattering.

“Flo, I think you had enough to drink,” Harry tells her, urging her to leave the booth, but she is way too caught up in getting him into trouble.

“Are you ashamed she now knows you were checking out her sexy photos for that perfume campaign she did last year?” she continues, giving away even more details. Your eyebrows run up as you look at Harry, who is desperately trying to avoid your burning gaze.

“Oh, so you’re a fond of my pictures?” you tease him, his cheeks turning redder with each passing moment.

“I mean… You looked really good.”

“And quite half naked, only covering myself with a huge perfume bottle,” you add chuckling, enjoying it probably a little too much than you should, but Harry has been so confident, flirting with you, it’s funny to see him so flustered all of a sudden.

Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck while Florence taps his shoulder, saying something that sounded like ‘good luck, man’ before she moves over to the next group of people.

“I wasn’t stalking, your profile just popped up and—“

“Harry,” you stop him with a chuckle. “It’s fine, I was just messing with you.”

“Way to make me a wreck, Y/N,” he shoots you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk pulling on his lips.

“If it makes you feel better I checked your profile a few times too,” you admit and once again, he seems surprised.

“It does make me feel better,” he nods, his sly smirk growing wider with each passing moment he spends staring at you.

Though you’ve been enjoying the night so far you are running low on energy, so when you see it’s already past midnight you send a text to Lawrence letting him know you are planning to leave soon.

Luckily, Florence is at one of the booths near yours, so you excuse yourself from your table, walking over to her to say your goodbye.

“Leaving already?” she pouts, returning your hug.

“I’ve had a long day, I wouldn’t want to be the grumpy guest to ruin others’ night,” you tell her with an apologetic smile and she nods understanding.

“I’m happy I saw you. We need to do something sometime soon!”

“Sure thing. I’ll have a looser schedule in the upcoming months. Call me whenever you are around and free,” you tell her kissing her cheek and giving her hand a soft squeeze. “Happy birthday once more.” “Thank you babe!” she cheers as you let go of each other.

Walking back to your booth you say goodbye to Sydney and Emma, making the same promise to meet up with them sometime soon. When you turn to Harry he is already up on his feet and offers to walk you out.

“Just to the exit. There are a shit ton of paparazzi outside,” you tell him and he nods, placing a hand to your lower back, ushering you through the crowd. The two of you stop near the exit since Lawrence hasn’t replied to you that he has arrived and you definitely don’t want to wait outside.

“So, are you gonna leave without giving me your number this time as well?” he asks tilting his head to the side as he hides his hands in his pockets lazily.

“Maybe I’m just trying to see if fate is gonna throw you in my way again,” you tease him, but reach for your phone in your purse. “Send yourself a text,” you tell him handing him the device.

He doesn’t try to hide the satisfied grin as he types his number in and sends a quick text to himself so he has your number. Handing it back you just take it and check if Lawrence has texted you. Right at that moment the screen lights up with a short ‘I’ve arrived, Miss’ text and you slide the phone back into your purse.

“Well, it’s been nice seeing you again, Harry,” you say your goodbye and stepping closer you engage in a short, but tight hug.

“You too, Y/N,” he smiles down at you. “Never have I ever had the number of an Emmy nominated actress’ number,” he smirks making you laugh.

“Drink up, Styles,” you tell him cheekily before you walk away, out of the club.

Lawrence is parked right in front of the building and you try to shield your vision from all the flashes as you get into the back seat as fast as possible.

“Hello, Lawrence!” you greet the man in a very delighted mood and he senses the change in you.

“Had a great evening, Miss?” he asks as he leaves from the club and heads to your apartment’s building.

“I did,” you nod biting into your bottom lip. Reaching into your purse you pull your phone out to check the text Harry sent himself.

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see the short message he sent to his contact that he just saved under Harry S.

“I promise I won’t ghost you.” That’s what the text reads and as you are looking at the conversation you see the bubble popping up that signals that he is typing right now.

“So nice of you. Please keep that promise!” His text appears on the screen and you chuckle under your breath.

“Cheeky.” You write back.

“Maybe, but now I have evidence. Don’t even try to put me on your ghosted list!”

“Will think about it…” you write back with a sly smile before you lock the phone and put it away, letting your head rest against the back of the seat, eyes closing as you can’t wipe the smile off your face.

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

[herenya-writes]

Obi-wan growled, kriffing growled, and if Cody wasn’t being held up  by the harsh claws of two clankers his knees would have give out. He had seen glimpses of the emotion that his general held so carefully in check before, but only glimpses. This was something else entirely. There was a flush high on Kenobi’s cheekbones, but his narrowed eyes were steely cold, and his hand gripped his lightsaber with intention. 

He looked radiant.

“You will let this man go, immediately,” he demanded, some of that growl slipping in again. “You will let him go, and you will leave.”

The man leading the group of droids, some separatist politician, grinned. “Ah, the great Negotiator tries to negotiate. But can’t you see I hold all the cards? My spies tell me that you’re fond of these clones, this one in particular. Would you really risk hurting him further?”

The clankers’ grip on Cody’s wrists tightened, but he hardly cared. He was too busy fighting back a grin. And maybe it was because of the bloodloss he had already experienced, but he couldn’t help it. This man, this nothing, was threatening his general. Threatening Obi-wan Kenobi as if it wasn’t suicide.

“I have no desire to pursue conflict with you,” Obi-wan said. Cody knew it was a lie on some level, but his general was also a man of peace. If he could end this without bloodshed he would. Too bad this man was a kriffing idiot.

“Ah, but our conflict of interest is too powerful, Master Jedi. I’m afraid the only way this backwater planet will see peace is if you and all your men leave it to the Separatists.” That twisted grin was still on his face, and Cody wanted to punch it out of him. “I know how much you want peace.”

Obi-wan hummed, and Cody swore he could feel it resonate in the back of the skull. He was no force-sensitive, but even he could tell the general was gathering his power. The anger in his eyebrows and tightness around his mouth smoothed away, leaving his face into a picture of calmness. The blue sky before a storm.

“I do value peace, as do the individuals of this world,” Obi-wan conceded, bowing his head. Then he caught the banthastain’s eye again. “But I also value freedom of choice. And this planet has chosen to oppose you. I have chosen to stand with them. And Cody chose to follow me here. So, I will ask you once again: return him to me and leave this planet. Or you will see the strength of a people defending their home and their love.”

“No. Master Jedi, you clearly don’t understand the danger.” One of the clankers holding Cody raised its other arm, the metal sliding back to reveal a blaster primed to fire. “Now, you have three sec--”

A blast of power radiated from Obi-wan, sending the separatist flying and the droids stumbling. The blaster next to Cody’s head began to hum with power, but another burst of the Force sent the shot wide. 

And then Obi-wan was there, lightsaber ignited and robes flared out around him. He looked like one of the warrior-heroes Cody had read about in the legends of the Mandalorians despite holding the weapon of their historical enemies, and he wanted to do nothing more than seize him by the front of his robes and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

But then Obi-wan’s lightsaber flashed through the air and Cody was free, his blaster in his hand not a second later. They had a duty to fulfill to this planet and its people.

“Are you alright, my heart?” Obi-wan asked, concern bleeding into his voice even as they moved to stand back to back. Their unit would be on their way by now, but the seppies were closer and it would be a hard fight until their reinforcements arrived.

“I’m fine, cyare. I don’t think our seppie friend has much kidnapping experience.” In reality, he could feel blood still seeping from the wound in his side, but it wasn’t anything that would keep him from fighting with his general.

“I’m calling the medic as soon as they get here.”

“Of course you are. Now let me keep you alive until then.”

“You keep me? I do believe I just enacted a rather daring rescue, my dear.”

“Rescue isn’t over yet.”

Obi-wan laughed, and Cody’s heart soared even as the first wave of clankers charged them. 

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why...   ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well. 

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

“HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh. 

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it. 

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

…the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..." 

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”

[rosenallies]

Pls pls pls continue the soulmate au. 🥺

Ok here’s a wee lil continuation 🥰😁

——

The entire morning as Jasmine got ready for school, she had a pit in her stomach. There had to be a mistake, it wasn’t possible that Bosco could be her soulmate. Bosco hated her and she had since the 6th grade, for a reason Jasmine never knew, how could they be soulmates?

She sulked all the way to the bus stop where she met Willow, the other girl smiling stupidly at her phone as per usual. For a moment, Jasmine felt a wave of resentment wash over her. Angeria might be halfway across the country, but she could tell that whatever her and Willow had was genuine.

Finally, Willow looked up and noticed her, her face breaking into a wide smile.

“Jas! Happy birthday, bitch! What’s their name? Tell me all about it,” she squealed.

Jasmine sighed, unsure of how to tell Willow.

“Did you not get one? It’s rare but sometimes people don’t get theirs until later.”

Shaking her head, Jasmine looked at her ankle, the name covered by her old high tops. She bent down and pulled her shoe away from the name, holding her breath as Willow bent down to read it.

“Holy fuck,” Willow muttered, standing up to look Jasmine in the eye. “It could be a different Bosco?”

“How many other people in the world could be named Bosco?” Jasmine whispered, afraid the other people trickling in to wait for the bus would hear.

“I have no idea. She’s weird as fuck but maybe she’s nice? Or at least really good in bed?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Jasmine kept to herself the fact that before she was in with the popular crowd, Bosco was her best friend. They did everything together and Jasmine cherished her more than anything until Bosco just…stopped talking to her, ignored her in the hallways and sent glares her way everytime they made eye contact.

Willow went back to her text conversation and Jasmine waited quietly for the bus, thinking about anything but the dark artsy girl she used to be friends with that was apparently her soulmate.

In every class that morning, Jasmine could barely focus. As much as she tried, she couldn’t think about anything except Bosco. She hasn’t spoken to her since middle school and now they’re all seniors, so it had been some time, but she didn’t understand how fate could fuck up badly enough to give her a soulmate that hated her.

During lunch later in the afternoon , Jasmine sat down with her tray; Willow, Deja, and Cam already gossiping away, as they typically did. Jasmine kept to herself, seemingly withdrawn from the rest of the group, when usually it was her who kept the conversation going and going.

“What’s gotten into you?” Cam asked, her eyes narrowed.

“She found out who her soulmate is,” Willow snickered, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Jasmine elbowed her side and rolled her eyes. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Jasmine was glad to hang the conversation up, glad to get her mind off of it a little as the rest of the girls discussed weekend plans. Jasmine was just about to chime in and when she noticed Bosco across the cafeteria. She sat alone, headphones on over her unruly hair.

Eyes finally landing on the person who’s name was now permanently inked to her ankle, a bout of realization hit her. Bosco would’ve turned 18 months prior to her. Without thinking, she stood up from the table and made her way to the dark haired girl who sat alone across the cafeteria.

“Let me see it,” Jasmine demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

A flash of realization flashed in Bosco’s eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jasmine scanned Bosco’s bare arms and just over a stack of bracelets she noticed a “Jas” in all too familiar penmanship. Bosco noticed and quickly covered it with her hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bosco leaned in close, dropping her voice to just above a whisper. “Just because our names are on each other, doesn’t mean shit. There are lots of people in the world and I don’t plan on spending my life with someone like you just because fate says I should.”

Jasmine stepped back a bit. She didn’t know what Bosco meant by “someone like her”. She didn’t understand what made their relationship go sour so quickly and what could’ve made Bosco still hate her after all those years.

“Sounds good to me,” Jasmine retorted, turning on her heel and stomping back to her table.

“Girl, what the fuck?” Willow whisper-yelled, yanking Jasmine back down by her arm. “What did you say to her?”

Jasmine shrugged. “Not much. I think we both agreed that this ‘soulmate’ shit is stupid. There’s plenty of people out there who never find their soulmates that would probably be just as good a match for me.”

Willow shrugged and went back to her conversation with Deja, leaving Jasmine to her thoughts. Her chest felt heavy, mourning the loss of spending her life with the soulmate that fate had designed for her and re-mourning the loss of a best friend.

[writing-in-lesbian]

Haunting my Dream(s)

Synopsis: You met Natasha when she was living in Ohio. She was your best friend (maybe more) and you were hers. Everything was perfect until one day she disappeared from your life, breaking both of your hearts in the process. That night was when the dreams started. 24 years later and you can't get her out of your life. Maybe it's time you actually pay attention to your dreams. Pairing: Natasha Romanoff / Female reader. Tags: angst Disclaimer: I don’t own Black Widow or anything Marvel related. Word Count: 4.3K

I have always liked rainy days. For as long as I can remember, these types of days have held an attraction for me, it’s as if the cold and the gray clouds called me and asked me to listen to their stories. Most of the time they came to me consciously and lucidly in the daytime world.

To say those cold gray days did not put me in a nostalgic and longing feeling would be a lie. Longing for her, for the past, for the thousands of questions that remained unanswered, the hidden truths buried in the depths of my mind and my being.

Sometimes those days were torturous, reminding me of what I lost, a person that my mind tried to lock in that place where painful memories end. That comfort that usually came with the witnesses of the rain, like the smell of the grass and the wet earth, from time to time becoming my own prison, trapping me in a labyrinth of memories suppressed and assumptions.

Despite that, the rain called me like a jealous lover to the dreamlands, where I would know undoubtedly, from time to time, she would be there, patiently waiting for me.

I had never allowed myself to speak consciously about her until today, 24 years after the dreams began.

For years I did not question the meaning of it, I sought consolation thinking that it was just a feeling of longing for my "Best Friend", that feeling you have when you think you lost something good without explanation.

Or maybe it had an explanation. I don’t know.

The first time I dreamed it, it caught me off guard. Over the years, that dream became recurring and at some point, a refuge.

The set up and places always changed. A hotel, a restaurant, a shopping center, a beach, the cabin in the mountains, our old school, a clubroom, a field, her backyard ... and so I could go on with the list.

Physically she does not look like the person I remembered. It was someone else face, her skin was different and her eyes weren't the shade of green I remembered, but it was her. I know it was her, her essence is unique.

Sometimes she is taller than me. Other times (most of them) she is slightly shorter than I am. We are normally the same height.

It always happens the same way:

I find myself talking with a group of people, friends who correspond to the moment in my life in which I find myself. Friends and acquaintances, teachers and family, love interests that only appeared once and faded from my attention after she arrived. In hindsight I think that must have been my second biggest sign.

I am always in the middle of a conversation on any topic that, in the same way, resembles the point in my life where I found myself, such as high school, the next exam, the final presentation, the thesis, my recruitment, the mission. A good time, good company, but the weather is always cloudy, sometimes with a few small drops, most of the time with torrential rain.

Suddenly, my eyes and attention are diverted to someone who is approaching the group of people I am with.

"Natasha"

Her name resounds between the drops hitting the glass and the thunder that echoes in the distance. It’s like a whisper that should be imperceptible but in my mind it’s the only clear thing that I heard. Strong enough to silence the sounds of people around me and escapes my lips like a forbidden breath.

"Natasha"

I had not dared to pronounce it since our separation, a little over 12 months ago... But you should not take it for sure. There are things that my mind had blocked and was trying to avoid, so I may be wrong with the time.

She walks to us and greet us like it's a common thing. She greets everyone with a kiss on the cheek and a short hug.

She never greets me first.

When she stands in front of me, time stops for a few seconds and suddenly my arms are on her back in a hug that makes me feel that time has not passed, as if we had stopped seeing each other for a few minutes and nothing more.

Her hands draw me to her and squeeze me tightly, I feel mine bringing her closer as well , trying to communicate things that I don't know how to express. Trying to make her feel what my 12-year-old self never knew how to express.

But it’s not necessary, in the dream only hours have passed and not a few months (or years).

I distance myself from her and look at her face that reflects my smile. That face unknown to me but that my heart knows is her. I would recognize her in any dream.

Her hand seeks my hand (or is it mine that seeks hers first?) And intertwines our fingers in endless thoughts. My logic knows things that my self does not and, on this earth, I am not allowed to know yet.

With her by my side, the conversation continues as if there hasn't been any kind of interruption. The people around me do not act strangely, even those who cannot theoretically know her do not treat her differently. That we are holding hands does not cause a blink-of an eye from no one.

At one point (or is it hours later? I don't know, the time here behaves differently) I turn to look at her. I know there are a thousand things I want to say, my mind tries to sort the train of thoughts that I would like to follow but it is impossible.

"Can we talk?"

"We need to talk"

A laugh leaves my lips hearing us say it at the same time. I don't know if we were always in perfect sync or it’s something of this context.

"Alone" I hear myself say, referring to the fact that, although we have been talking for hours (o  minutes) with the group of people we are, this talk is important and should only be between us two.

She doesn't say anything.

She never does.

She just takes my hand, says goodbye to the others making signs that we have to go. No one ever questions her, not me. They just accept it and we say goodbye as if we were going to see each other tomorrow.

We turn around and walk a couple of steps before I let go of her hand by shoving my hands into my pockets. She just laughs and keeps hers in her coat. The cold is less intense when we walk.

Every now and then my hips thrust into hers as she smiles at me. Hearing her laugh provokes things in me.

"Can we order something?"

"Of course"

I never know the destination, I think that it adapts to the scenario that my mind decided to put on this occasion. Sometimes it’s inside a classroom, other times it’s a bench surrounded by bushes, most of the times is a table in a restaurant, the furthest from everything. But there are always many people and doors to pass before we get there.

When we arrive, we sat down. I feel her gaze on me. The one that she gave me several times, that look that doesn’t express anything but I know that it held many questions, the one that observes me as if trying to guess my next movement or thoughts, as if she wanted to decipher each and every one of my deepest thoughts.

Or so I usually think.

"Let's talk"

"Do you know what we need to talk about?"

"Yes" my voice is confident, without hesitation I try to say it. "About us"

"What about us?"

"You know" you've known all this time. Probably even before me.

"And you too"

Her eyes drift to my lips, her gaze posing for a few seconds before meeting my eyes again. Unconsciously (or maybe it's the most conscious thing I do on this earth) I lick my lips and her eyes follow my movements again.

"Okay, let's talk then"

"Y/N, see you in a minute" ... ... ...

An alarm sounds and ...

Sometimes the chirp of the birds is the first thing I hear, other days it’s the same rain that, as a jealous lover, tears me away from those lands and brings me back to reality. This reality where I know that she is not with me, that we have not spoken in months (or years) and leaves me with this feeling of wanting to know about her.

For 24 years I had the same dream.

For 24 years I never paid attention to that need or that desire to want to know about her, which intensified as time passed. Sometimes months passed before dreaming of her again. Generally it was once a year.

For a long time, I convinced myself that I was not ready to see her, I was not ready to conclude that talk that the land of dreams denied me, always expelling me the moment she pronounces my name and tells me she’ll see me in a minute.

And now...

Now I am here, trying to finish a dream that started and has stayed with me for approximately 8760 days. Right now I'm a phone call away from asking her so many things, but I know it can't be like that yet.

When I looked for her after the last dream, it was because I woke up with a need like I had never felt before. It was not enough get used to the idea that you could be okay, it was not enough the few times I met you in the real world and turned around. It was not enough that time that by chance I found your file in Maria's files and went in to read it just to know that you were okay, and lose it days later. I imagine Hill figured it out.

After this dream and everything that happened with Thanos and the world, I knew that I had to stop being a coward. I looked for you for several days, they say that if you don’t want to be found, you’ll never be found. I tried various sides and people, but I always ran into walls. At some point I thought you were one of the people we lost when the snap happened, but your name was never on those lists. Just when I thought that again it was not written in my destiny to meet you again (and thinking"OK universe, if I should not find her I will understand") ... I found you.

It took me a couple of days to form a message. For a few hours just looking at your file and the number calmed me down, but something inside me demanded more, asked for more. Someone asked me if I was ready to write to you and I always replied that I didn't know. But my soul screamed to write to you, to initiate a contact and, although it took me 3 hours to write those few lines, at the end of the day I did.

"Hey Natasha, I'm Y/N, maybe this message surprises you a bit, but I don't know if it's something crazy or not (it could be), the point is that I've been dreaming about you (for several years now to be honest, always the same dream, never changes). And to be honest I had always left it alone, however, I dreamed of you last week and I woke up with this very strong urge to look for you, stronger after the decimation. Somewhat difficult if I'm honest, you really know how to hide very well Tasha, but finally something pointed me in the right direction and here I am. Anyway. I do not know if you will read this message or even if I will have an answer, I just wanted to know if you were okay, I sincerely hope you are. Y/N "

I convinced myself that was enough. I convinced my mind not to expect anything, that the message was what I needed to calm my soul, that it didn't matter if you didn't see it or even didn't respond to it. Deep, deep inside, I knew I wanted an answer from you. Which one? I don't know, just that I wanted or needed you to answer.

Although the dream was consistent for 24 years, the last two times that I dreamed it, after I wrote to you, dreamland presented me with two more versions, two new “options”. In the first I saw you, (now your physique corresponded with your essence) but I couldn't reach you. I couldn't get close to you. In the second we talk a little, we exchange 4 or 5 sentences, but never alone.

That was right before you answered me in real life:

"Today. 5 pm. Americana cafeteria"

And now ... am I really ready?

I think the answer to that is no.

You are never ready, at least not consciously. I just know that my heart and mind are finally in the same place. Thanos really did a huge number on various people. Including you.

The place she chose is brighter than I thought, for once the storm clouds don't feel as gray or heavy. This time, that halo of light is enough to illuminate our surroundings. We are at a table, there are some cups of coffee in front of us, you watch the rain fall while your hand plays with the handle of the cup, the other is resting on your cheek.

"Y/N I ... I don't know where to start"

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything right now, just ... just let me speak first, please "

"Okay"

You access without problem. I don't know if it was always like this or not, but this time you know I need it. Maybe you also need the time.

“I know exactly what you were or what you are to me. Maybe it took me 24 years to understand it, I think it was more like accepting it. I always wondered why, you know? "

You just look at me, silently asking me what I mean with your eyes. I know deep down you know it. You extend your hand that plays with the cup and took mine. For a moment I take it and play with your fingers. I want to let go but you stop me, like an anchor tying me to this reality.

And maybe that's what he needed.

“I always wondered why it had hurt so much to part with you, why I cried in the afternoons after our fight, why I couldn't just be with you. Was it a bad or forbidden thing to love you the way I did? What was it that the universe or God wanted to avoid that had to separate us? "

"Y/N"

"I know, I know, probably, well no, surely it was a lesson we had to learn though"

Her fingers intertwine with mine, one of her fingers caressing my hand, as she always did, instantly calming me down.

“I know who I am and now so many things make sense, God, it's painful to see how they didn't before. Now I understand why my relationships did not work as I thought they should, now I understand why it hurt me so much and why so many years ago I could not face you "

"Surely for the same reasons why it hurt me so much too"

I look into her eyes. Those green irises that haunted me for so many years. Even today they do.

“Telling you that you were very important in my life it’s not all you meant to me. You were my first love you know and, well what can I say so many years later? Now I understand all my feelings towards you, now I understand the intensity and innocence that we had during our relationship. It's true when I tell you that all the years that I spent without you only made me realize how much impact you had on my life. They say that the first love is never forgotten and you know what? It's true. It's so fucking true "

“I know, I couldn't forget you either. I think at some point, you became like this ghost or this shadow that did not went away from me. I guess that's why I couldn't look for you after leaving ... "

Her voice cuts out. There's no need to talk about why she unexpectedly left Ohio that day. When I entered S.H.I.E.L.D and after hearing Barton tell your name to Fury, I decided to hack the system and find out about you. Those skills were what led me to join the agency, so I thought it would be something easy. In the end I did it, but it took me a while to do it until that day I found your file in Hill's archives.

“To be honest, I was able to accept that recently. That you had been my first love. So many years I lied to myself trying to justify that I only saw you as a friend, what a fool I was "

"Silly no detka, you just weren't ... we weren't ready"

"Could be"

“I can definitely tell you that I know I felt things for you too, I can't cover the sun with a finger, but for obvious reasons I couldn't look for you and then I couldn't dare to look for you, not after everything I had done and with so much red in my ledger. I always thought of you thou, I wondered what become of your life. I guess I don't think I was ready either and with various things happening in my life ... Now, I also understand several things. I forgive you for not looking for me that night, I understood that it was something that was not in our hands"

I lightly squeeze her hand and look at her. Slowly I turn my gaze to her eyes and there it is, again, trying to decipher what is going through my head, as if trying to prepare or anticipate something. Unconsciously I moisten my lips with my tongue.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything"

"What was I, for you?"

“A watershed in my life. A pending chapter "

I don't know if it's what I expected or not. I don't even know what I wanted to hear, but her words carry a lot of weight for me. I look at our hands again, I see slowly how her other hand covers them, as if she wanted to protect them.

PENDING.

The word overwhelms me more than I ever thought. It puts me in this state of nervousness, ecstasy, uncertainty, happiness. Of everything and nothing at the same time.

Pending. Without resolving.

Pending. Unfinished.

Pending.

PENDING.

PENDING.

“I know you are gay. And there were so many things between us that it would be absurd of me to try to put you inside a label or a box. You were many things to me. I've learned that you don't need a label to feel comfortable with yourself"

She stared into my eyes as I shot her a glance, lightly squeezing her hands.

I'm here.

I'm with you.

You are with me.

You are here.

"Did you ever wonder what would have happened?"

"If you had stayed?"

She can only nod her head while looking away.

"Several times. More than I would like to admit. You?"

"Every time I thought of you"

Her hands release mine and take the forgotten cup of coffee with a slow sip. I look at my warm and dark coffee, the waves caused by the movement come and go.

"I want you to be free"

Her gaze turns doubtful, intriguing even. She leaves the cup on the table.

“You said that at one point I became a ghost or shadow. I don't want to continue being that. I want you to be free. You are too important to me and I want you to be happy. Really"

"You say it like this is the last time I will see you"

There it is. The easy way out, the conclusion of many things. If I say goodbye and get up of this chair, I will end this chapter. I can get on with my life.

But...

"It is not"

"Then?"

Her gaze seeks mine, that gaze equal to that of 24 years ago where I promised my life and she promise she would never lave. That look full of so many insecurities and fears. That look that deep down we know that we would break our promises and break both our hearts.

But this time I have the power of decision in my hands. This time I am in control.

“It’s obvious that we have a strong connection. And I think the way we ended things, that unfinished chapter, where we were and at the age we were, influenced us to unconsciously drag things along and follow us through life. So I want to free you and get rid of those ghosts"

"Y/N, what are you trying to say?"

“I want us to leave the luggage that we dragged behind. I don't want you to be my one that got away”

"Please be clear"

Clear. That word resounds like thunder fallen within the enclosure and is transformed into five simple words.

what do you want?

I want... I want... I want...

I WANT.

I WANT TO BE WITH YOU.

"I want to be with you. I want to see where this connection can take us and I definitely want to know you with the intention of being your girlfriend. I want to try this. Give us a chance to be a couple. Really"

"Detka" her words stay there. I take both of her hands between mine and lift them resting my elbows on the table.

"I know. I know there are a thousand things to fix, okay? I know. But precisely for that reason, with all the more reason we should do it. It’s clear to me that we both started with a light luggage that over the years became a mega suitcase. At least that's how it was with me ”.

"Same with me"

I smile slightly.

“I know we are not the same people we were at twelve, we have to get to know each other again. For my part I have forgiven what I had to forgive of you and myself. It took me 24 years to understand and accept it and I don't want 24 more years to go by. I'm tired of running and forcing things that I didn't understand why they didn't work. I will never be ready, whatever way I think it to be. I know that there is a great risk in all this, I know the world is in chaos and the mission to find the gems has not been easy”

Her gaze does not seem surprised at this confession.

"And still you want ... but why?"

"Because it's you. As simple as that"

Probably simple wasn't the word she expected.

There are so many complications and logical reasons to run to the other side. Definitely none of this fit with my plan to find her again, but what would life be like if all our plans went according to what we idealized?

It's so fucking ironic.

But so simple to understand.

And so, so simple.

Suddenly everything made sense.

“Sorry if it took me so many years to find you, but here I am in front of you. Closing all the past and setting us free from it. Here I am, ready to give myself to you completely. To meet us and take the opportunity. I think neither you nor I need a conventional love and let's be honest, we probably don't make sense, but don’t you wanna stop asking what if? I know that I prefer to find out"

She doesn’t say anything. For a few moments my anxiety begins to take over me. I try to count the seconds and focus on my breathing. Her hand in mine is sufficient anchor to the present.

"I am"

"You are?"

"Yes detka" There is her laugh again. The one that caused butterflies in my stomach so many years ago and today causes them elsewhere.

"Like you said, if I'm here and you're here, why don't we try?"

Four words that make it all seem simple, but probably not, but what the fuck does it matter now? The universe screamed at me many times that I should look fir her, it tried to teach me the lesson very early but my stubborn self was probably opposed to accepting the truth.

Natasha Romanoff was my first love, the first person I ever innocently loved, the first person who made me question myself. She was the first to break my heart (and the first heart I broke)

And now, after so many years, I have found her again.

I feel a slight squeeze in my hands and Natasha stands up. Before I can question anything, her lips steal mine in a kiss that has been waiting for almost 8,760 days. It's everything I could imagine. Her lips move in perfect sync with mine and just when I think it can't be more perfect, her tongue asks for access and I happily oblige.

A vibration on the table interrupts us, Natasha keeps her forehead on mine, eyes closed, savoring the moment, with a peck on my lips, she moves away from me and looks at whatever interrupted our moment.

Natasha takes my hand and with a slight tug pulls me to my feet. In reality she is taller than me by about 5 cm. Her eyes search mine.

"Ready to save the world?"

I just nod my head.

[justlightlysedated]

For the kisses prompts - #27 for Malex please 😘😘

27. desperate kisses

Michael is too busy feeling pure and unadulterated relief as he stares at Liz and Max and Isobel and even Kyle, all in a massive group hug, celebrating their success at finally getting rid of Jones, to notice that Alex is staring at him intently.

Michael tries to push all the happiness he feels at this moment at the forefront of his mind, trying to forget the price that he still hasn't paid, but the moment his eyes flicker over to Alex, to see that Alex is looking at him intently, he knows he's fucked.

Alex inhales sharply, eyes going wide at whatever look flashes across Michael's face before he looks away.

"What did you do, Guerin?" Alex's voice cuts through the happy chatter and demands attention and Michael is helpless against it.

He looks from Alex to everyone who seem to realize collectively there is something that they're missing.

"Alex-" he starts taking a step towards him, wanting to steer this conversation outside and away from prying eyes.

"No," Alex says, and he's still staring at Michael like he can divine the answer to his question if he looks hard enough. "You're going to tell me what you did so that I can fix it."

"There's nothing to fix," Michael says, moving closer, and feeling a stab of despair when Alex takes a matching step backwards. "I did what I had to do."

It's almost as though a wall falls over Alex's face, and Michael's despair gets even more potent.

Jones-his father- had promised him a week to say goodbye, and he'd been thinking about how to break the news to everyone gently, especially to Alex.

They were in such a good place right now. It felt amazing. Michael doesn't think that he's ever been happier. He doesn't think that he'll ever be as happy.

And he'd wanted to hold on to it for as long as he could.

"Look," he says, and moves fast enough that Alex doesn't have time to move back, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder. "Jones is gone. He's never going to bother us again. So can't we just celebrate that and then worry about the rest tomorrow?"

Alex blinks several times, eyes darting all over Michael's face.

"Why can't you just tell me what you did?" Alex asks, eyes growing bright. "The way that you're acting tells me it's bad Michael. I just want to help you."

"You can't," Michael says on an exhale, letting his hand fall from Alex's shoulder, knowing that he's going to have to tell Alex the truth, right now.

"What did you do?" Alex asks again, voice shaking like he knows exactly what Michael is going to say.

Michael exhales roughly, and pushes down the pain and hurt he can feel stuck right in his throat.

"Jones is leaving the planet, and he needs an engineer."

It doesn't take long for Alex to understand. He inhales sharply and shakes his head in denial.

"No," he says and his voice cracks and reeks of heartbreak.

"Alex," Michael says, moving forward.

"No," Alex says again, in exactly the same way, and then he's leaving, walking out of the bar as fast as he can.

Michael looks at the door as it closes behind him, and jumps when Isobel's voice rings in his head, in tandem with Liz's voice in his ears.

"Go after him," they both say, making Michael jump.

In his haste to soothe Alex, he'd forgotten that they weren't alone.

Michael looks back at the others and he sees some knowing faces and some still confused faces, but he still has a week to deal with that, and the further that Alex gets, the more likely Michael won't see him again.

He runs out the door, letting it swing shut behind himself.

He looks around and doesn't have to look far to spot Alex, who is leaning against the back of Michael's truck, face in his hands, shoulders shaking.

Michael makes it to him in record time, but before he can touch him, Alex is moving.

"Don't touch me," he says, backing away from Michael, and his face is red, and his eyes are bloodshot and there tears dripping down from his chin.

Michael's heart shatters into millions of pieces that makes it difficult to breathe, to think.

"I'm sorry," he says, hands clenched to his sides, wanting to move closer, but knowing that Alex won't accept the comfort right now. "Alex, I am so sorry. But I had to save him."

"I know," he responds. "I know how important Max is to you Michael. I've been doing everything that I can to help. We all have. You're not fighting alone."

"I know," Michael says, taking a step closer and trying not to drown in relief when Alex doesn't move away. "I just-"

"Needed to be a self sacrificing idiot," Alex says, and his voice would be mocking if it wasn't for the fact that he was still crying.

Michael just looks away from him, wanting to find the right words to say, but Alex talks again.

"Why can't you just let yourself be happy?" He demands.

"Alex," Michael tries to speak, but Alex talks over him.

"You are happy with me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Michael says, taking several more steps closer.

"And our relationship is good, isn't it?"

"It's better than good," Michael assures him, stopping when he's within arm's length of Alex. 

Alex doesn't move but he tracks his movements like a predator.

"Then why are you giving it up?" He asks, sounding desolate, the words hitting Michael right in the stomach. "Why are you tearing us apart?"

Michael shakes his head, reaching for Alex, but Alex blocks his hands, not moving backwards but not ready for Michael to touch him.

"I-" Michael starts but he can't finish.

There is no explanation that he could give that would satisfy him. Michael had been given the choice and he'd jumped on it because nothing else was working and more and more people were dying, and he could save Max and protect everyone else.

It had been an easy choice, until he'd seen Alex and realized exactly what it meant.

"I love you," Alex says, the words coming out of his mouth in a sharp painful gasp. "Does that even matter to you at all?"

Michael feels horror, sweeping through him and leaving him cold. And he acts as the words stay stuck in his mouth unwilling to come out.

He digs his fingers into Alex's shoulders and tugs him forward. Alex collapses into his arms, wrapping his fingers in Michael's jacket and pushing his face into Michael's neck, a sob falling out of his mouth.

Michael wraps his arms around him tightly, almost too tight he's sure, but Alex is shaking like he's about to fall into tiny pieces right in Michael's hands and the only thing holding him together is Michael's touch.

Michael presses his face to the side of Alex's face, and presses a kiss high up on his cheek, breathing out shakily and struggling not to cry.

Alex jolts at the touch like it hurts, and before Michael can ask what's wrong, Alex is moving, but instead of getting out of Michael's arms, he moves in closer.

He presses his hands to Michael's face, fingers shaky and damp, and then he kisses him, a shuddering touch, too hard, and then another, and another, and another, each one brief and shaky.

Michael slides his hands to either side of Alex's neck, and he tilts his head and kisses him back.

Alex surges into the touch, desperate and wild, almost like a live wire in Michael's hands, digging his fingers harder against Michael's face and biting against his lips hard enough to draw blood.

Michael hisses at the pain, but Alex just pushes closer, kissing him harder and deeper, like he's chasing the metallic taste of the blood into Michael's mouth.

Michael eases away from the kiss after a few long moments, and Alex makes a sound like Michael is killing him.

Michael drops his forehead to Alex's, and just breathes.

"Don't go," Alex says in a hoarse whisper that Michael hears like a gunshot going off in his ears.

"We still have a week," he says, and Alex pulls away from him, blinking like he's confused.

"We still have a week, and you won't let me help you fix it?" 

"If I renege on my word, he said he'll come after you," Michael admits in a low voice.

"I don't care," Alex says immediately. "If I can find a way to get you out of this, I will do it."

"No," Michael says, shaking his head. "Not at the expense of your life."

"I don't care," Alex says again. "He can have my life if he wants it. If you're not going to be here, I'd rather be dead."

"Don't say things like that," Michael bites out, pushing in close again and looking Alex directly in the eyes.

"I can't live without you," Alex says, eyes shining bright but resolute. "I'm going to try and fix this, and if I die trying then at least I won't have to go on without you."

"Stop talking like that," Michael demands. "Stop talking as though your death wouldn't be the end of me too."

"Then stay with me, and we won't have any problems."

Michael closes his eyes, "Alex."

"It's one thing if you don't want me, Guerin. If you don't love me. If you leave because you're not happy. If you think our relationship was another mistake and we should've never tried again.

"But don't for one moment believe that I will let you go willingly if it's not what you really want."

And Michael, Michael can't. He can't.

He knew from the moment he made the deal that the hardest person to say goodbye to was going to be Alex. Because he knew that Alex wasn't going to let him go without a fight.

Michael sways forward, and Alex catches him easily, pressing their foreheads together as he breathes in shuddering breaths.

"Okay," he says in a low, low voice. "Help me fix this."

Alex wraps his arms around Michael's waist and holds him tight, "Always."

[raewritez]

all that mattered

based on this request: Hello! I love your writing! Can i request a zuko x firebender reader where the reader was a close friend of zuko’s and went with him when he had to go hunt the avatar and she goes w the gaang in the catacombs and is hurt by zuko’s decision but they reconcile slowly @ the western air temple? Thanks!!

word count: 2.8k

You were happy, a cautious glint of hope pulling at your heartstrings as you smiled at Zuko from across the teashop. After all you had been through together; from playing pirates with the young boy who wore his heart on his sleeve to sneaking onto the navy ship to follow your best friend on his seemingly unachievable quest for the Avatar, you had finally grasped the scraps of unabashed content in the upper ring of Ba Sing Se. 

You were so proud of Zuko. He had come so far from the erratic, rage-filled boy you had stuck with the past three years, now growing into the person you always knew he was. The glimmers of your youth seemed so far now, yet closer than they had been in years. The Zuko you knew then; the soft, earnest child who loved his friend unashamedly in the merriments of your pretendings was slowly peeking out of the harsh exterior he had built up in his desolation. 

He found himself aching, yearning for your presence and the unwavering comfort you had always provided him. He could barely remember a world without you, without the familiarity of your laughter and the warmth of your caring touches. He knew he loved you, he supposed he always had. He knew it in the way his heart would speed up at the sight of your grin, how a lovely blush would make its way to his face at the soothing lilt of your voice. He knew he loved you, the same way he had when his hands were small and his face unscarred, when the only problems were the insufficient days that weren’t long enough to hold all your adventures. 

Now, you were smiling at him from across the room of Iroh’s tea shop. Like always, he felt his face heat up and the corners of his lips threatening to lift at the mere sight of your joyful expression. He smiled back, forgetting for a moment the weight upon his shoulders. Again, the Avatar had been preoccupying his mind, the temptation and longing to be back home and to feel the affection of his father overpowering his logic. But now, with his amber eyes locked with yours and his uncle’s jolly laughter ringing over the dulled chatter of the customers, he thought maybe a life like this wouldn’t be too bad.

///

“Zuko!” you cried, launching yourself into his arms.

Iroh trailed behind you, the Avatar in tow. The catacombs shone with an emerald glow, a slight chill in the humid air. You turned your head to see Aang hugging Katara, while you step aside to allow Iroh to embrace his nephew.

“Uncle, Y/n, I don't understand,” Zuko speaks, his brows furrowed. “What are you doing with the Avatar?”

“Saving you, that's what,” Aang replies. Zuko growls and steps forward confrontationally, your arms reaching out to restrain him.

“Zuko, it's time we talked,” Iroh says calmly. 

He tells Aang and Katara to leave, Zuko’s eyes trailing after them. 

“Why, Uncle?” Zuko questions in a hurt tone.

Iroh simply smiles. “You're not the man you used to be, Zuko. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been. And now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny. It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good.”

You yelp as you feel your body being encased in a prison of crystal alongside Iroh, your eyes snapping up to meet Azula’s golden ones with a glare that could send a man ten feet under. Zuko frantically reaches out to you, only to be halted by Azula’s drawling voice.

“I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle. But Zuko, Prince Zuko, you're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?” “Release them immediately,” Zuko growls.

“It's not too late for you, Zuko. You can still redeem yourself.” “Zuko, no!” You shout, desperation in your eyes. “You can’t listen to her! She’s lying, like she always does!” Azula chuckles sinisterly. “Am I, Y/n? Or are you just trying to hold him back? He knows his destiny, it seems to me like you’re only preventing him from achieving it.”

“Zuko, that’s not true!” you call out to him, your voice cracking. “I know you, I know that what you want isn’t-”

“Why don't you let him decide, Y/n?” her voice cuts through like a knife. “Zuko, I need you. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have father’s love. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted.” Iroh’s pleads are drowned out by the noise inside your head, the panic setting in and clouding your senses. Please, Zuko. Don’t do this.

Tears roll down your cheeks as Zuko turns his back, following his sister out of the cavern. A choked cry leaves your mouth, desperation for the lost feeling of happiness leaving you feeling empty. 

Iroh tenderly calls out your name, the deep sadness in his expression interrupted only by a glint of determination.

/// You gaze up in horror as the figure of the Avatar falls to the ground, Azula’s outstretched fingers crackling with electricity.

Katara rushes forward, her water crashing over the Dai Li agents and Firenation siblings and pulling them under the waves. She embraces Aang in her arms, a look of hopelessness and despair shining in her tear-filled eyes.

You stare in disbelief at the face of the prince, your heart splintering. Iroh suddenly jumps in front of your frame defensively, his voice booming in the hollowness of the catacomb. 

“You've got to get out of here! I'll hold them off as long as I can!” Fire thrusts forth from his fists, momentarily halting the soldiers. Katara makes her way over to you, her hand outstretched. You look at her with confusion, having been prepared to suffer your fate at the hands of your nation.

“Come on!” She exclaims, grasping your hand and lifting the three of you out of the wretched caves. The last thing you see are his eyes, piercing your soul with the bitterness of betrayal and abandonment. 

///

“Hello, Zuko here.”

You can only stare, shocked into a state of paralyzation by the utter surprise of seeing his figure on the mountainside. He looks different, his hair is longer and his face bears a hesitant smile. 

As the shock fades, it is replaced with a burning anger, the one that has been brewing and festering in the depths of your soul ever since he walked out of that cave with his sister. Your eyes narrow into slits, a hardened glare contorting your features. His eyes flicker to yours as your friends unload their bearings onto him, only to shrink away at the fire in your expression. 

He longs to rush forward, to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness. The guilt that has been plaguing his mind for weeks bubbling to the surface; the sight of you almost bringing him to the ground. He yearns to be in your arms again, to bask in your wondrous existence and fearless love.

But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He had hurt you, abandoned you. You, who had stood steadfast beside him through all his troubles and misfortunes, you, who had shown such faith in him that he began to wonder how he deserved it. And for what? For honor? For the approval of his father? He didn’t know, but he knew that walking away from you and his uncle in those catacombs was the single biggest regret of his life. 

He’s sent away, and you don’t argue. Not that he would expect you to. That night, as he curls in on himself by the blaze of the campfire, silent tears stream down his face as he aches for you, as he loves you from afar in the high hours of the night. He at least finds comfort in the fact that you sleep under the same sky.

///

a week later...

It was almost unbearable, having him so near. You saw him everyday as he trained with Aang and conversed with the rest, his gaze always finding yours the second you walked into his vicinity. You kept your distance, the wound of his desertion still raw and painful, building new walls around your heart which had always remained unsheltered. Your body betrayed your logic, your fingers itching to run through his hair, your breath escaping your lungs whenever you heard the rasp of his voice.

You knew he had changed, really changed this time, that much was obvious. The way he and Aang talked like old friends, how he was slowly worming his way into the group’s good graces and affections.

He hadn’t pushed you, hadn’t demanded you speak to him or expressed anger at your coldness. Instead, he waited, reluctantly settling for small acts of atonement and care. He would always ensure you received the first bowl of rice at dinnertime, secretly complete your chores for you. He treated you like an idol, an alter, his actions small compensation for all his wrongdoings and mistakes.

That didn’t mean it was easy for him, though. Zuko starved for your closeness, the feeling of having you so close yet so far eating away at his heart. He feared that he would never again experience the love you so unsparingly served to him, never again bathe in the solace of your friendship.

He found you sitting beneath the moon, Yue’s light cascading through your hair and illuminating your features with an ethereal glow. His breath was ripped away at your unapologetic beauty, a familiar longing consuming his senses.

“Y/n,” he whispered. 

You whipped around, your eyes locking with his. Under his intense stare you were paralyzed, unable to run away like you wanted.

You sighed. “What do you want, Zuko?”

There was a bitterness to your words, but all Zuko could focus on was the way his name sounded from your lips. He hadn’t heard the sound in so long, the melody squeezing his heart with adoration. He knew it was undeserved, though.

When he didn’t respond you scoffed and rolled your eyes, standing up to walk back to the temple only to be gently yanked back by a hold on your wrist.

“No, wait, I...” his eyes were wide, a distressed look upon his face. He glanced down at your interlocked hands, reluctantly letting go so as not to overstep. “I...”

You stared at him, brows furrowed. What? What could you possibly have to say to me?

“I...I’m sorry.”

He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face. “I know that doesn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t make anything better, but....I just need you to know how sorry I am.”

When you didn’t interrupt, he pressed on.

“Not a single day went by where I didn’t think of you. When I was in the Fire Nation, I had everything I’d ever wanted. I thought everything would fall into place...but it didn’t. Every night when I went to sleep I would see your face, how  you looked at me back in Ba Sing Se. Like I was a monster.”

Your features softened at that, that part inside you that you had locked away yearning to reach out to him, to comfort him like you always had. 

“What I did was so wrong,” he continued. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it. But I can’t live with knowing that you hate me, that we can never be friends again because I was so stupid. And, I mean, you’re not just my friend, you’re way more than that! We’ve been through everything together, and back in Ba Sing Se everything was perfect and I ruined it, and now you hate me and now I probably can’t ever-”

He was rambling now, his eyes ablaze with the struggle to salvage the scraps of your relationship. You couldn’t stand watching him in such distress, all of the emotions you had built a wall around slowly cracking through.

“I don’t hate you, Zuko.”

The words were out before you could stop them.

His rant ceased abruptly, his eyes latching onto yours, a question lingering behind his golden irises.

“I never really hated you,” you spoke, shuffling uncomfortably in your place. “I just...”

His wild eyes calmed, replaced with an imploring gaze, urging you to continue. 

“I thought I did. Every time I thought of you I felt so angry, and I thought I hated you but I don’t. I never could.” His lips parted, staring at you with such wonderment you were reminded of the way people beheld paintings. Or how Iroh looked at tea.

“Why?” he questioned. “Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know.” 

You knew.

///

Days passed, and the crumbs of your bond with Zuko were slowly falling back into place. You still bore a scar from the memories, but seeing him acting as the person you had always wanted him to be filled your heart with more pride than you’d like to admit. 

He moved around freely, interacting with the misfits that had become your family and smiled carelessly in the gleams of his content. Seeing the way his eyes lit up, the way his lips tugged up at the corners made your heartbeat irregular. His hair wasn’t bad either, and his insistence to remain shirtless while training Aang certainly wasn’t helping your attempts to remain impassive.

You found him sitting at the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over the vast expanse of sky. His ebony locks danced around his face, a pensive expression resting on his brows.

He snapped around at the sound of your footsteps, an unguarded grin making its way to his face upon seeing you.

“Hi,” you greeted, your feet carrying you to sit beside him.

“Hey,” he breathed, eyeing your profile as your arm brushed against his, the sensation sending shivers up his spine.

You tilted your head towards the stars, the coolness of the night caressing your cheeks. You remained silent for a few minutes before speaking.

“I missed you, you know.”

Zuko turned to you, finding your eyes closed against the navy curtain of the sky.

“Even when I was mad. I guess spending ten years of your life with someone makes you a little attached, huh?”

His eyes traced your profile, dipping down the curve of your nose and lips and rising back to the delicateness of your eyelashes. Attached, he chuckled. He was long past attached.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Your head swirled to face him, your eyes reflecting the adoration and love they always had, the same look Zuko had passed to you so often in the shadows of your obliviousness. Your fingers rose to tenderly trace the outline of his scar, your familiar touch elicting all of the emotions Zuko had been deprived of in your time apart.

He nuzzled further into your embrace, feeling much like the boy he had been all those years ago. Just you and him, when nothing else mattered. When he was a child, and you were a child, and he loved his friend in the pureness of childhood.

And he loved you now.

Deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, after years of longing built up on a lifetime of friendship, he pushed himself forward until his lips met yours.

Your breath escaped you in a gasp, your palm finding its way to its proper place against his cheek. Your lips pressed against his with fervor, all of the emotions that you had ever felt for this boy disclosed in the desperation in which your hands grasped his shirt in a hopeless attempt to bring yourself even closer.

His arms wound around your waist, his thumbs stroking your sides as he kissed you with all the love and affection he possessed. His raven hair tickled your face as your lips locked over and over again, until the only thing you two were more desperate for than each other was air. 

You breathed heavily, slowly regaining your senses. Your eyes met his with the same hesitant look that was held in his. For a moment you simply stared at each other, gazing, before grins broke out across both your faces. 

Your laugh cut through the night, his own chuckles escaping him. He gazed at you fondly, leaning in to capture your mouth in a short and sweet kiss. You smiled unabashedly, pressing your forehead against his. This was long overdue. You basked in each other’s presence, soft caresses and brief pecks shared under the light of the moon. As you loved one another beneath the stars the world faded away and nothing else mattered.

It was just you and him.

[blushinggray]

come inside me, i'm a keeper

if these walls could talk, they'd tell you don't pull out make me proud, thug it out switched it up enough to tell me i'm your star let's get wild, right here right now

— kehlani, "can i"

nsfw // cw: masturbation, fantasizing, begging, creampie fixation(?), a lot of cum, tiny bit of cockwarming

This has gotten way out of hand. Usually, when Katsuki wants something, he’ll go right out and get it for himself. That’s what he’s always done.

But there are exceptions when it comes to things he doesn’t fully understand. It took him a long ass time to figure out why he was so fucked in the head over Deku once he got a quirk in high school. And when he was put on a team in the first hero agency he ever worked for, it took him a similarly long ass time to figure out that he was into you.

He spent so much time in competition with you, trying to get picked for the best cases and one upping each other during missions. It wasn’t until he started waking up with hard-ons after seeing your face in his dreams that he realized his feelings for you were more complicated than just those for a work rival. And now he���s got it so fucking bad that he jerks off to pictures of you that are sent to the agency group chat.

It fucking sucks, seeing you in his head even when he’s completely alone and trying to find some peace. It’s ridiculous how vividly he’s got your naked and pliant body mapped out in his mind even though he’s never actually seen you naked or pliant.

Obviously over the course of the year he’s worked with you, there have been incidents that led to scuffles violent enough to tear at your costumes. He's caught scattered glimpses of your pert skin, the shape of your hips, the length of your legs, the peek of your midriff, the angles of your shoulder... he could go on, which is absolutely pathetic.

But all those little details he accumulates while on the job with you get revisited once he’s tucked into bed and has the lights out. Sometimes he adds them to the fantasies that he replays in his mind sometimes to fall asleep; usually something that involves getting your legs wide open and on top of his shoulders, or you on all fours with your ass on display, or your face between his legs as you suck him off.

God, he just knows that you’d be wet as fuck, and your walls would hug tight around him like a vice. If you ever saw his dick, you’d probably gasp in fucking delight and pretend that he’d never be able to fit inside you...

But you’d let him at least put the tip in. He’d put just the tip in and brush it all up into the dip of your slit until you got his head fucking soaked. And he’d play around with your clit and your tits until you start whining and getting even wetter for him.

So fucking wet. Wet enough that he’d be able to slip in just a few more inches without you even realizing. He would taunt you, say something like, “You really think the tip is enough for you? Look at this greedy little pussy, it’s already halfway in.”

You’d say no way, there’s no way it’s already in that far. Then you’d gasp as he sinks in another inch deeper, because you would start to feel it. You’d start to stretch out for him, make room specifically for his shape and his size. And even if you got uncomfortable, you’d still be fucking sopping all over him.

“You want it, don’t you, little slut?” He’d ask, and you would whine and pretend that you don’t. But then you’d complain even more once he tries to pull out and leave you empty.

“Giving me some mixed signals here, hon. You want it or not? You gotta tell me.” He’d tease the hell out of you with just the tip again. You’d be fucking crying for dick after you got only part of it.

But you’re a proud person. If he pushed you far enough, you might actually start crying from embarrassment for saying that you wanted him. “J-just put it in me, jerk. Now.”

God, you’d use that same demanding ass voice you used on those extras you interrogated at work but the tears in your eyes would make you look totally unconvincing. And he sure as hell wouldn’t listen even if you were convincing, because he doesn’t take fucking orders from you.

He would tease you until fucking cried, cursing him out but pleading for him to just put it in already. And he’d ask you, “you really want it that bad?”

“Yes! Yes, I want it!” You’d reply, spreading your legs wide fucking open for him, just putting yourself on display like an art piece. “Please!”

“Alright. I’ll give it to you since you want it so bad.” He’d say before fucking slamming all the way inside you. You’d squeeze the shit out of him, arch your back like a fucking cat, and beg for him to move.

And you would take him like a fucking champ, voice vibrating against the rhythm of his thrusts. And you’d pant out little words like, “yes!”, “ah 💕”, and “more”. Simple shit that doesn’t use too much of the brain he’s fucking out of you.

Your pussy would be squeezing him so tight, driving him fucking mad. you'd be begging for him to fill you up, to milk him of all he’s got.

“You want this cum, little dumpster?”

“Yes, yes! I want it!!”

“Alright, then I’m gonna fill you up so good. Make you so full that you won’t have room to eat tomorrow.” He’d grunt as he ruts into you, “m’gonna come so deep inside you that you’ll be able to taste it in your mouth.”

“Come! Come inside me! I want all of your cum so bad!!” You’d be reduced to a cock drunk mess, unable to identify with the person you are in daytime. All that would be in your head is how much you want his cum inside you.

Katsuki would give you all that and more. He would pump you full to bursting, then let it dribble out of your sloppy cunt before he throws you into another position, and pumps you full again. And then do again. And again. And again.

You would act tired but still take him every single time and beg for him to dump it all inside you. Even though you’d already be leaking.

“I don’t think your little cunt can hold any more, hon. Don’t get too greedy on me.”

“No, no! I can! Give me more, please.”

You’d be mindless with your begging, probably even unaware of what you were asking anymore, but just needing to be constantly filled by him.

He’d eventually solve the problem but just keeping you plugged up with his cock for a while, letting you keep him warm until you fell asleep or something.

And the look of you, naked and asleep, covered and leaking down the thighs with his cum, god that’d be a sight.

And Katsuki comes around his fist to that last image of you as his dirty, messy cocksleeve before he quickly cleans up and passes out for the night.

Fuck, he has it so bad.