#posting this to distract myself from pacing around in my room like a caged animal

[aquareegia]

[emilyplaysotome]

The Queen Makes Her Choice: Part 6

This is the final chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys. This might be the filthiest thing I've ever written 😂

This whole series is for those 18+ only.

Catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Miracle finder makes it impossible to see anyone, and even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t matter.

Gavin is on a mission, Victor is on a trip, Kiro is on tour, and Lucien…

…well, Lucien isn’t replying, or posting, or commenting.

No surprise there.

I have no idea if he’ll show on Saturday even though the rest of them will be there. I’ve booked us a private room in one of Loveland’s hottest “sky clubs” - a lounge located at the top of a high rise with nothing but large glass windows and views for days to accompany the drinks and people.

It was a splurge on my salary, but I have to do this right.

If I do this right well...

...maybe there's hope of keeping them all by my side.

There’s still no reply from Lucien as I get ready an hour before everyone is supposed to meet. I decide to tell him that I need him there, and let that be the end of it.

I don’t have much in my closet for this event, but buried in the back I find an old clubbing outfit from my birthday two years ago. The top is an iridescent blueish-purple with spaghetti straps, a revealing back, and cropped to show my midriff. I pair it with a flowy dark skirt that balances out its sex appeal, tying my hair back, and putting on a simple necklace to show off my neckline.

I feel pretty and knowing that I’m about to meet four (well, hopefully four) men who have all confessed to me, I feel confident that they will too.

—

I arrive early and finish my drink too quickly in the hopes of calming my nerves. The waitstaff gets me another and I tell myself to cool it for fear of getting too drunk before they all arrive.

The room I’ve reserved is bigger than I expected, with seating that could easily accommodate 25 people. There are standing cocktail tables and ink blue couches that have a soft, velvet fabric accompanied by tables for drinks.

I’ve settled into the center of one of the couches and I’m distracting myself on my phone, hoping that my nerves will fade when I hear the door open.

I’m surprised that its Lucien who I see first.

“I didn’t think you were coming?!” I say.

He kisses me before sitting next to me, looking around the room.

“I wasn’t sure if I would.”

“But why?”

He sighs and shakes his head, smiling.

“Too much thinking. Too much worrying.”

I have more questions, but I won’t get to ask them as Victor enters next. Upon seeing Lucien I can see his defenses go up. He puffs out his chest, tilts up his chin sneering at him, making no attempt to hide what can only be described as a very sour expression.

I get up and stand between them, gently taking Victor’s hand and guiding him to sit beside me on the couch. Sandwiched between him and Lucien, I thank him for coming. The mood only grows more tense with each addition.

Gavin is next.

Kiro is last.

It’s clear that they all thought I had planned something for them and them alone based on the disappointment I see on their faces when they register their competition in the room. Once they’re all assembled, Lucien and Victor on either side of me, Gavin pouting with his arms crossed and standing by one of the cocktail tables and Kiro who paces like a wild animal in a cage, I begin.

“I know you’re all eager to understand what this is about,” I say. “And I first want to thank you all for being in my life.”

There are gruff acknowledgments all around, but no real words or statements from anyone. I can tell by the way they’re drinking and refilling their glasses that they’re just as nervous as I am, and not wanting to drag things out I continue.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want in my partner, and I keep coming back to daily life. Waking up next to someone I love each morning, making breakfast, hearing about their day…”

It’s then I look at each of them, one by one.

“…and I’ve come to the conclusion that none of you can do that for me.”

“Now wait a minute,” Gavin starts to say and I cut him off.

“You’re always gone on some mission for God knows how long.”

I turn to look at Lucien, “You disappear on me at the drop of a hat…”

Then Victor, “…you spend 50% of your time doing business outside of Loveland City….”

And finally Kiro, “…and you’re on tour for the foreseeable future.”

They all seem bashful because they know I’m right.

They all know they couldn’t be 'the one' unless they all made major concessions for me.

“So I think for now, until things change, I will commit to none of you and all of you.”

There’s shock from Gavin.

Laughter from Victor.

Annoyance from Kiro.

Anger from Lucien.

Gavin quickly spits out “That’s…” but Victor cuts him off.

“Only fair. None of us can really run to her side when she needs us, but between the four of us we can take care of her.”

I’m stunned that he actually agrees, not just understands.

I thought that out of the four he might be the most difficult to convince, but suddenly I’m watching as he argues with Kiro about what it means to love me. Lucien is silent, along with Gavin. They listen as they wrestle with what they already know about our world to their ability to accept being a part time boyfriend.

There’s silence when Victor reminds them aloud of the danger I face.

Being with me is not just being there for the good times, though I’m grateful that lately there’s been many. This time of peace may disappear just as easily as it arrived and they all know it, even if they don't want to admit it.

I’m surprised when Gavin is the second to agree to keeping things as they are, with the caveat that I not think about anyone but him when we’re together. I find myself feeling shy and can feel the heat creep into my cheeks as I nod back at him, knowing that his request is easily fulfilled.

Satisfied by my reply he smirks before making it known that he doesn’t want to discuss things further and will invite me on a date soon, leaving me with the others.

I can tell that Kiro is close to compromising, but Lucien beats him to the punch.

“Alright,” he says with that smile of his. “This just gives you more time to decide that you love me most.”

The comment makes Kiro look as if he’s going to rip Lucien’s head off, and he charges towards him. Victor puts his hand out and holds Kiro back, reminding him that this is not about how they feel about each other but how they feel about me.

Lucien quietly laughs and whispers in my ear, “I will try sticking around in the future in order to prove to you that I’m all you need, if that’s truly what you’re looking for.”

“It is,” I say.

I’m not lying, but for now I’m relieved to have found a loophole.

I’m relieved that it seems I will not have to choose after all.

“While I don’t like the idea of leaving you with these two, I must be off to a prior commitment. I only meant to stop by because you were insistent. And because I will always be there for you, despite what you may think.”

He’s being mysterious but I can tell whenever we’re together he can’t help but be pulled back to me as much as he tries to run away.

I can tell that he looks for excuses to be with me, even when he's busy.

“Thank you Lucien,” I say and mean it.

I’m grateful that I don’t have to say goodbye, especially to him.

I’m surprised when he kisses me, deeply, in front of the others and I can feel that his eyes are on them as he does it, almost as if he’s challenging them.

When he pulls away I watch as Victor rolls his eyes as Kiro grows incensed again. Lucien pretends not to care and leaves, ignoring the string of obscenities that flows out of Kiro.

“Enough,” Victor eventually says, sighing and returning to the couch next to me.

“I understand why we’re doing what we’re doing,” Kiro says, still standing. “But doesn’t it bother you seeing that?”

“No,” Victor says coolly. “It only motivates me to please her more.”

I feel his hand wrap around my midriff and he kisses me, passionately, in front of Kiro. I let out a surprised moan and after a moment he pulls away with a smirk.

“See?”

I’m embarrassed and I quietly scold him for kissing me like that in front of Kiro. Not to be outdone, Kiro comes over and kisses me too. I can taste the cocktail on him and the wine on Victor and between the alcohol and their touch I realize that I feel a bit light headed.

As Kiro kisses me, I feel Victor’s hand travel under my skirt and up my thigh. He starts rubbing me and I moan, prompting Kiro to deepen his kiss, moving his hands from my face to my neck and then chest. When he pulls away, Victor capitalizes on the opportunity and kisses my neck as he slides one of his fingers into me.

I can tell they’re both more intoxicated than they’d ever admit, and to be honest, so am I.

Sober me would have stopped this but drunk me is flying high on everything that is happening. It feels too good to worry about the waitstaff walking through that door, and I close my eyes knowing that Kiro is watching Victor play with me, eagerly awaiting his turn.

He’s impatient though, and my top comes off leaving me fully exposed to both the men and the city beyond the large glass windows. I feel myself reaching for both of them, to make them feel as good as they’re making me feel and I feel Victor’s other hand unbutton his pants.

--

What happens next is a bit of a blur.

It’s almost as if I come back to myself, stripped bare and breathing heavily on a couch that isn’t mine and in a lounge where anyone could have walked in at any moment. I see the two men next to me, panting and satisfied on either side, tucking their shirts back in as they return to a disheveled version of the men that appeared earlier in the night.

I will pretend that I don’t remember bouncing on top of Victor as I sucked on Kiro. I will pretend that I won’t remember finishing both of them on my knees, with my hands and my mouth before letting Victor finish me with his mouth while Kiro watches on, all the while stimulating my other sensitive spots.

I will pretend I don’t remember Victor playing with time to drag out my pleasure when it finally comes, and that I do not giggle when Kiro whines, “Oh come on, that’s just cheating…”

When the waitstaff finally do enter, we are all fully clothed and in the process of sobering up with cold glasses of water. I worry that the room reeks of sex and that they know what happened, but it would appear that they are none the wiser.

Victor grabs the tab that I was supposed to pick up and pays for everything, leaving just as much in tip before saying to us, “Let’s get out of here.”

On the street we are silent - the cold air sobering us to the reality that lies beyond.

“Do you mind if I take her home?” Victor asks Kiro politely, and I’m surprised when Kiro shakes his head.

“I have to catch an early flight for our next leg of the tour.”

“You’ll keep in touch, right?” I ask, almost scared that the greediness of my actions will catch up with me, but Kiro just smiles his bright, pop star smile.

“Of course Miss Chips. Until we meet again.”

He kisses me sweetly, and neither he nor Victor seem to care that the other is present for this moment.

He leaves and Victor takes my hand, slowly walking me back home.

We’re silent for a few blocks before he starts chuckling out of seemingly nowhere.

“What?!” I demand.

“You continue to surprise me.”

I look at him, puzzled as to what he’s talking about and he continues.

“I’ll have to come up with a new contract to ensure I get at least one fourth of your time.”

He’s teasing me, but I know him well enough to know that he’s actually impressed at how I’ve managed to get what I want despite how things are usually done. He’s known from the start that I haven’t wanted to say goodbye.

That I’m not ready to.

There’s kindness in what he’s saying, and it’s not lost on me. As much as I know he wants me for himself, he won’t rush me.

He loves me too much to do that.

They all do.

The topic changes quite naturally and before I know it we’re chatting as if our salacious night never happened. He’s mocking me for being a glutton and I’m pretending to be outraged that he’d call me such.

I invite him in because I’m back faster than I expected and to my disappointment, he refuses me.

“LFG calls,” he says, and I can tell he’s disappointed too.

“Ok. Thanks for walking me home.”

He smiles and kisses me and just as I turn to open the door to my building and head inside, he grabs my arm.

“But now that I know what you want, soon enough you won’t have this excuse to keep the others around…”

He lets go and turns on his heel, not glancing back and walking away with the kind of confidence and swagger I know only he posses. My heart races as I watch him turn the corner and out of my sight before turning in.

—

I shower the night off of me and change into cozy pajamas, crawling into bed. I have four messages, one from each of them, all wishing me good night and reminding me that this is for now.

“One day work won't consume my life,” Victor repeats.

“One day I will prove to you that I can stay,” Lucien says.

“One day my mission will be complete,” Gavin promises.

“One day it will only be us,” Kiro muses.

One day.

But until that day, I will savor having all them in my life.

And I will love them all as much as they love me, for as long as I’m allowed.

--

This was fun to write and *very* out of my comfort zone. As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, commenting to say that you enjoyed it/what you liked, or buying me a coffee!

While this is most likely the last installment of this short series, if you like my writing I hope you'll follow me for more in the future.

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[lemonlushff-iy]

History Lesson in how OLR came to be...

A year ago, @clearwillow, @dawnrider, and @keichanz had just finished what would be known as the spontaneous Vday “hot off” of 2020, and it was decided that white day was going to just be a repeat of what we had just done...only we wanted everyone to participate and it was going to be open to all, and you could do whatever you wanted. Tease us. Post completed pieces. What have you. 

Shortly after, I fell into a VERY bad depression. I’m not shy about it. I’m not shy about my feelings or saying I’m hurt. I think people should be able to say that, and have it not be taboo. So I’m open about it. I wasn’t well. I felt inadequate. Like what I wrote was terrible. Like people within the fandom ONLY liked me because I was there for them 24/7 hyping up their work and singing their praises. I was the fandom hype girl. It felt like none of my friendships were REAL. 

And I’d been ok with that. 

Until I wasn’t. 

And a year ago today...I decided that I wanted to work past those feelings. I’d been struggling with them for about two days at this point, and I’d been looking at Carra’s pixiv and was completely CAPTIVATED by her work. Specifically, New Moon Ride, which has since been colorized. I was nervous and so low...I’d removed myself almost entirely from discord and tumblr, but I really wanted to participate in White Day, and I had this...idea in my head about this girl returning home and having a fling with a cattle rancher. I wanted it to be like Sweet Home Alabama (which is an Easter Egg for those of you on Patreon, and something to look for for those who aren’t).

Needless to say...

My depression made me miss the mark on that...

But I very nervously went to Carra who was this FANDOM GOD and asked “Hey...Would it be ok if I did this?” Needless to say...She said yes, and in doing so...She gave me this AMAZING gift. 

It was supposed to be a one shot just for White Day. I’d INTENDED for it to be a PWOP. The depression got the best of me though, and that...Clearly didn’t happen. Instead I started pouring all of these feelings I had inside of me into this story instead...And it’s become one of the greatest gifts of my life. It’s my emotional support fic. It takes all the bad and painful away from me. And I WISH that what I’d been feeling a year ago was the end of it, but it was only the beginning of it...And One Last Ride has been there for me for all of it. 

Providing me with an outlet for all of the feelings I’ve had. It’s allowed me to deal with a LOT. Drama. Friendships that died and times when I was shut out. Feelings regarding my own late father. General depression. 

One Last Ride has become deeply meaningful and a piece of my SOUL.

So...Thank you Carra for this AMAZING gift you’ve given me. You never knew when you drew that photo what you were about to unleash...But...I’m OH so very glad you did...

And in the spirit of how I started One Last Ride a year ago...

I offer you ALL a piece of post canon smut. It’s just a ficlet because...I just FINALLY finished the FIRST ACTUAL smut in One Last Ride (nearly a year later) and wanted to save my bandwidth for MORE smut...Can ya blame me?

And now, a short fic...

“Inuyasha...she could hear…” Kagome weakly protested, trying to push her husband away from her. 

“She won’t notice,” he soothed, continuing to suckle at her pulse point. “She’s watching that thing with the talking animals.”

“That narrows it down,” she gasped, feeling his tongue burn a path up the column of her neck. 

“I turned on the tv and she pointed. I weren’t about to ask questions,” he growled, pushing his hips into the swell of her ass, allowing her to feel the hardness between his legs. “‘Sides. I’m still cold from building that damn igloo with her. I need my sexy wife to warm me up.”

Yes...but they had been so cute. She loved watching the two of them play together. And watching him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing when it kept collapsing. She knew that even though it hadn’t worked, he was going to go back out there tonight and figure out how to build Moroha her igloo. Even if it took him until 3 am, he was going to surprise his princess with one in the morning, no matter what. 

And she loved that about him.

“Giving her a shower didn’t do the trick?”

“Please,” he snorted. “All it did was leave me soaked. And all I wanna do is make you wet,” he murmured, slipping a hand under her shirt and laying his palm against the soft, relatively flat skin of her stomach. 

“Yash…”

“She won’t hear,” he promised, his hands coming to cup her breasts over the lace of her bra. “Washer and dryer will be too loud and she will be too distracted…”

“But what about the cookies...”

“We still have ten minutes.”

“And when she tries to take them out of the oven on her own? She has a little too much of you in her, you know,” Kagome replied dryly as his fingers found the tip of her nipple. The pad of his thumb gently brushed against her sensitive skin, making her bite the inside of her cheek.

“Better make it eight then...”

“That sure of yourself,” she challenged, his gentle ministrations to her body was making it hard for her to continue to resist him. 

“I know you, woman…” he growled as he reached out to find the doorknob of the laundry room, and swiveled the lock into place. 

Good. 

No interrupting daughters. 

“I know what makes you wet,” he continued, pulling the lace cups of her bra down before lifting the wire frames up and away from her breasts to rest above them on her chest. He felt their weight in his palms, tweaking her nipples and making her head fall back onto his shoulder. 

“D-do you now,” she breathed as he found the lobe of her ear, pulling it between his fangs and suckling on it. 

“I think I do, Kags,” he smirked, one of his palms sliding down her rib cage and over the soft, silvery lines of her stomach to the band of her pants. He felt her freeze in his arms as his palms connected with those lines, and he kissed her that much harder.

She hated those lines. She’d done everything she could when she was pregnant to avoid them, but they came anyways, despite her efforts. She thought they made her ugly. 

He thought they made her sexier. 

“Stop it,” he reprimanded, kissing her jaw lovingly. He knew what that look meant. She was thinking about them again. How her body had changed since giving him the most precious gift in his life. He hated when she did that. “You’re beautiful. Fucking sexy as hell. I’ll tell you that every damn day ‘till I die. I wouldn't change a thing about you.”

“Yash,” she breathed, turning her head and allowing him to capture her lips in a sweet, loving kiss. He was so good with words...but his lips were even better at this. He had a way of reaffirming everything he said with his hands. His touch. His body. 

The only sounds that could be heard in the small space of their laundry room, were the sounds of the dryer turning and spinning the wet clothes inside, and their heavy breathing. The sounds of their lips moving wetly against one another as he showered her with affection. Showed her how much he loved her. Expressed his need for her and her body. 

Her hands slowly wound their way into his hair, finding his ears. She rubbed them between her finger tips, starting at the base and slowly working her way towards the fuzzy tips. He moaned against her lips and lifted her shirt, lowering his head to her soft breasts. His tongue found her nipples and she felt him swirl it around her sensitive flesh as his hands worked the band of her panties and leggings down her legs. 

“Yash,” she moaned, his name clawing its way out of her throat against her will. 

“Shhh...You need to keep it down, Darling,” he reprimanded, pulling away from her trembling form as he worked one of her feet out the bottom of the mess of clothing. “You don’t want her to hear.”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be able to hear,” She replied, panic beginning to bloom in the pit of her stomach. Oh god...They hadn’t had any situations with Moroha yet, but she didn’t want to explain this to her daughter yet either. 

“She can’t,” he soothed, the velvety tone of his voice slowly calming her as he lifted her leg over his shoulder, kissing her thigh. “But you can’t start getting loud neither. No screaming, remember? Anyone would be able to hear that. Demon blood or not.”

Her cheeks turned bright red at the reminder of just how loud she could be, and then red from the feeling of his tongue slipping between her lips. He zeroed in on her clit, and her nails scraped against his scalp. Soft little moans of pleasure crawled out of the back of her throat. 

He used them as a guide as he slipped his fingers inside. Watched the trembling of her abdomen. The heaving of her breasts as she tried to steady her breathing. 

And then she was gnashing her bottom lip, her face twisting and eyes screwing shut as her orgasm swept through her body. He held her, let her ride his face as she came - let her pull his hair and whimper his name against the palm of her hand. 

When she’d finished, he pulled away from her and lowered his sweatpants and boxer briefs, allowing them to pool at his ankles as his hardness sprang free. 

Fuck, he was so hard. 

And she was so ready for him.

“Should have a few more minutes still,” he commented, turning her around against the washing machine. She lifted her leg, his hands coming to softly grip her delicate flesh in his palms and support her. 

“Should?”

“I’ll hear when the timer goes off, don’t worry,” he soothed, lining the head of his cock up with her entrance. He slowly sank inside, his head falling to her shoulder, and kissed her neck. “God Kags…”

“Mmm…” she agreed, her head rolling back onto his shoulder as his fangs scraped against her pulse point. 

He slowly thrust into her, his hips gaining in speed and setting a vigorous pace as he took her from behind. He sought out all the places he knew she loved, and his fingers brushed through the patch of curls at the apex of her thighs to locate her clit. The tips of his fingers swirled around it as he continued to work her from behind until the coil that had been tightening in her snapped. 

The hand that had been holding her hip, guiding hers into his, released it to slap over her lips as he nervously glanced at the door. 

“Shhh...Kags…” he grunted, his eyes screwing shut. He couldn’t take much more…

He was almost there…

“Cum for me, Yash,” she begged, lowering his hand so her words wouldn't be muffled. 

“Kags…”

What was all he needed. He tumbled, over the edge of the abyss, allowing his orgasm to sweep through him as he spilled himself inside her. 

“Yash,” she soothed, feeling his body go limp against hers. “What got into you today,” she throatily chuckled, and he rubbed his forehead against her shoulder blade. 

“Nothing,” he sighed, burying his face into her neck and inhaling deeply as his cock slipped out from between her folds. 

“Liar,” she teased, watching as he dropped to his knees to use his tongue and mouth to clean up the mess he’d made in her. “You normally keep it in your pants until she’s sleeping.”

Catching him red handed, was she?

He couldn’t lie. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

“I want another one, Kags.”

“Another one?” she pressed, her brow furrowing in confusion, and he nervously nodded his head. 

“Another baby. She’s getting older...And this house is too big for just the three of us...and I miss it. Having a baby around. And she wants a sibling too. All her friends have one. And I...I...I dunno...I just...Do.”

His words were so sweet. So soft and tender. 

“Yash…”

“Don’t say no just yet,” he pleaded, pulling his sweatpants up as he stood. “Promise me you’ll think about it...And...And please don’t be mad...It’s been on ma mind a while, but you ain’t even ovulating now. But thinking about another one and how much fun we had trying ta get Mo...Well…”

So that was why. It all made sense now. 

“I promise I’ll think about it Yash,” she grinned, pulling her leggings back up her legs and adjusting herself within the cups of her bra as the timer went off in the kitchen. 

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“That’s our cue,” he sighed, relief washing over him as he pulled away from her and slipped out of the laundry room. 

She’d think about it. It weren’t a yes...but he didn’t need one right now. That could come later. 

Right now, he just wanted her to think about the possibility of adding another one to their happily ever after. 

And it was a pretty damn sweet happily ever after, if he did say so himself.

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (7/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6]

Clarke usually went straight to the café, but the past few days she'd started taking a detour. Since the article in the Gazette, Finn's Coffee & Bagels had taken a serious hit. Costial was a city with a deep-rooted pride for small businesses; mom-and-pop stores that had earned their success and customers' fidelity. Hard work and honesty were appreciated - shortcuts and lies were not. In just the one exposé, Finn's shop had lost half its patrons. Other outlets had jumped on the bandwagon and word had spread very quickly that anyone who bought his food or coffee might as well buy it in super stores for the same mass-produced quality at half the price. Finn had lost the support of his backers, but, more importantly, the Mayor had publicly condemned his son's business tactics.

To be perfectly honest, Clarke took some joy in the fall of Finn's plans. She had no doubt he would come up with another project very soon, perhaps in the theater sector, but at least his future in restoration was bleak. Clarke knew gloating wasn't a good look on anyone, but she wasn't ready to climb down from her cloud just yet. She was sure something would soon come along to knock her down a few pegs, but these days she was feeling pretty confident.

The café had been busier, which Clarke and Wells planned to capitalize on with the right promotion. Today he'd surpassed himself with some mini marble cakes, one of which Clarke had shoved in her mouth as soon as he'd shown her. It was the perfect time to look more seriously into new hires, which Clarke had pushed back for far too long. Gaia and Harper had been noticeably excited by the news. Wells would vet any additional help in the kitchen, but she could tell it was a relief for him too. Their café was small, but the workload wasn't.

Clarke was drafting the job application at the end of the counter when she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up and closed the laptop with a mischievous smile, her heart doing its now familiar dance.

“Lexa.”

“Clarke.”

Lexa had her dark green raincoat on, hiding the plaid collar Clarke only associated with her now. It didn't seem like she'd ordered anything yet, bypassing the two people in line to find her.

“Have a good weekend?” Clarke asked.

“I did. Had a long chat with Semet actually.”

“And?”

Lexa smiled at Clarke's interest. “You’ll find my observations in the Gazette... eventually.”

"Nothing world-changing though, I take it?"

Lexa shrugged. "I think the world's seen most of the changes already."

"I'd knock on wood if I were you."

"Why? Wary of change?"

"No, but a break for… oh, the next five or ten years might be nice. I miss going about my day not wondering when aliens will come crashing."

Lexa laughed. "I assure you Semet's experience didn't give any indication we might soon meet our celestial neighbors."

Clarke glanced at Gaia and Harper, making sure they still had everything under control with the orders. 

“So um, I had an enlightening weekend too.”

“Oh?” Lexa asked, nonchalant.

“Yeah. I was thinking we could... discuss." Clarke bit her lip. "Maybe over dinner?”

Lexa's demeanor visibly shifted, not as casual as she'd been just a few seconds ago. “Is that really what you want?”

“Trust me, it’s become crystal clear what I want.”

Lexa seemed a cross between reticent and eager, like she was a wild animal in a cage and the door had just opened, but she didn’t quite know what might come from stepping outside- freedom or punishment.

“Clarke. Maybe we should... slow down.”

That was surprising. Clarke frowned. “Slow down from a glacial pace?”

“Just days ago you weren't even sure what to think of me."

“But then we- I thought the rooftop-" Clarke's cheeks felt warm. "I was under the impression we were on the same page."

Lexa looked away and Clarke felt her morning's happiness wither away. So much for staying on her cloud. She took in Lexa's demeanor: tense shoulders and the obvious inability to catch her eyes. Clarke truly didn’t understand her. It was frustrating - bordering on humiliating.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Clarke-"

"No, no. I don't know what game you think this is, but I'm not playing it."

Lexa seemed panicked. "It's not a game."

"Then what the fuck is it?"

Lexa looked toward the door as two people came in. Harper greeted them cheerily, waiting for their order. This was neither the place nor the time. She looked back at Clarke with pleading eyes, unable to offer an explanation.

Clarke shook her head, tired of the silence. "I told myself I'd stop sitting around and waiting for things to happen, but I won't waste my time on someone who can't decide if I'm worth the chase. You clearly don't want any sort of relationship-"

“It’s not that simple,” Lexa argued.

“It is that simple," Clarke gritted through her teeth, feeling both stupid and angry. She'd fallen for Lexa's charm again only to be disappointed once more. It felt like being doused in ice-cold water. "You either want someone or you don’t. So which is it?”

Lexa shook her head imperceptibly. There was something on the tip of her tongue, Clarke could tell, but she couldn't get it out.

Clarke glanced at the front door when it opened, a family of three walking in. She swallowed her disappointment at the turn in her morning before giving Lexa a hard stare.

"I have to get back to work."

"Clarke-"

“You need to figure out what you want,” Clarke snapped lowly. “Preferably without stringing people along while you do so.”

She took the family's orders with a smile, trying her hardest not to look toward the door as Lexa walked out with hunched shoulders.

* * *

Clarke posted the application on their website and several job boards in the afternoon. Resumes came fast, but Wells wanted to be a part of the process - usually less involved in the business side now that most things were squared away - so they'd set some time aside on Wednesday to reach out to applicants. Wells even planned to speak to a couple smaller theaters over the weekend to expand their partnership program.

And yet, the more good news and exciting plans came their way… the more frustrated Clarke became. Clearly she wasn't incompetent and had a firm handle on most aspects of her life, but for some reason her romantic aspirations had turned into a complete disaster. Was that really all that was in store for her? Had she somehow agreed to a bustling café in exchange for an empty home? Professional success so long as she slept alone? The exchange with Lexa had left a bitter taste in her mouth, like it'd been a cosmic reminder her happiness would always be short-lived.

She kept busy to avoid blowing the lid off her anger, forcing smiles while she chatted with patrons, made coffee, and watched the mini marble cakes disappear one by one. There were so many reasons to be elated, but not even Finn's fall from grace could lift up her mood anymore. He'd get on with his life eventually - people like him always did.

Maybe Clarke had made a mistake with Niylah. She was sweet and charming in her own way. They got along great and were certainly compatible in bed. What they had was easy and uncomplicated - Clarke had never given herself a headache trying to figure out Niylah and Niylah had never chased after her only to run the opposite way. She was straightforward and easygoing; eager to share every aspect of her life Clarke might be curious about. Niylah was a Costialite through and through: honest, hardworking, and kindhearted. She didn't make her heart race or take up her thoughts, but she didn't make her feel like a tightly coiled spring either.

Which meant Niylah deserved better than her. She deserved someone who looked at her like she was the only person in the room. She deserved someone who wanted everything with her. Clarke knew it wasn't their sexual relationship she missed, but rather that period of time when she hadn’t cared as much about her loneliness. She missed the whirlwind of planning and opening the café, the breezy attitude that had carried her through so many problems.

One vision had changed it all, and Clarke couldn't say it was for the better.

* * *

Wells was already gone before closing time, the kitchen immaculate and the next day's ingredients already prepared. Clarke didn't know how he did it - as if he had ten hours more in the day than the rest of them. The last patrons trickled out until eventually there was no one and Gaia turned over the OPEN sign on the front door.

"Go home; I'll clean up," Clarke told her, putting her hair up while Gaia grabbed the broom from the back room.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, give Poppy a good cuddle for me."

Gaia took her coat and purse. "You should come over soon. Give her those cuddles yourself."

Clarke smiled tiredly. "I do miss those big ears."

Gaia had the sweetest beagle she took on long hikes every weekend. She'd been born with one ear much longer than the other, but her lopsided anatomy only added to her personality.

"You haven’t even seen my new place yet," Gaia pointed out.

She'd moved into her mother's second building a few months back, the one on the same street as Lexa's, which only reminded Clarke how poorly she'd neglected all her relationships. 

"One day soon I'll pop in with wine and a pizza and you won't be able to get rid of me," she promised.

Gaia smiled brightly as she shouldered her purse. "Holding you to that, boss."

"See you tomorrow," Clarke said as Gaia walked out.

Clarke dimmed the main lights, wiped the last few tables and put the chairs up. She straightened out the coffee mugs and cleaned the front of the display case, giving herself a few more minutes before she headed home. The rush hour traffic outside was slowing down, giving Clarke some needed quiet.

To hear their small bell ring as the door opened was more than a surprise. Clarke turned around and stilled, watching as Lexa pulled down her raincoat’s hood and looked at her across the room. Her hair was out of its braids, damp and frizzy.

Clarke felt her anger roar back to life and stoke the fire inside her. Her heart pounded, furious that Lexa had had such an effect on her mood today. But she wouldn't back down. She wouldn't look away until it was Lexa who was forced to do so.

"We're closed," she told her coldly. It was so unlike her to be so curt.

Lexa didn't move, didn't even open her mouth to attempt a reply. It was infuriating.

"What do you want?" Clarke asked harshly, echoing her question from this morning.

Lexa's eyes flashed with similar ardor and her jaw locked. Then, in four strides, she was in front of Clarke and kissing her.

Clarke felt her hands on her waist first, and then the heat of her mouth against her own. She gasped, fisted her hands in Lexa's collar and then unraveled. She kissed Lexa back with the force of her anger, pulling and pulling until Lexa had her pressed against the display case and her body flush against hers. Her tongue felt like silk when it brushed the tip of hers, when it took a risk and was rewarded. Her hands felt like embers, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched her, first on her waist and then lower, on her hips, until they became more dangerous and cupped her ass while she pressed tight against her. Desperate and possessive.

Clarke moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the sudden force of her desire. She needed Lexa to take her, to be inside her, to fulfill her incessant need for release. She couldn't imagine a second away from Lexa's lips, a second where Lexa didn't touch her.

“God, I thought of this,” she moaned between kisses, eyes closing when she felt Lexa's mouth down her neck. She smelled like the rain; felt like a storm.

“I think about you all the time...” Lexa breathed in her ear, almost like she hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Clarke pulled back, cupping Lexa's face to make sure she wasn't imagining this again. After a beat, their next kiss turned hungrier. Clarke wanted nothing more than to pull Lexa in the back room. She didn’t need romance or a bed. She needed Lexa’s fire to consume her and for the world to stop existing for just a moment. At the same time she was content staying there, pinned between glass and Lexa's body while they kissed into the night.

But her imagination was kinder than reality, as a car suddenly honked at another outside, startling Lexa. She ripped away from their embrace with wide eyes, stumbling back like she was dizzy, the reality of the situation catching up to her.

Clarke could read it all on her face: the surprise at her own actions, the realization of where they were and what they had almost done so publicly. She could've cried when Lexa suddenly looked like a deer in headlights.

It was the same expression from this morning. Clarke shook her head at her, begging her not to run. But a part of her knew it was futile - Lexa had already made up her mind. Still, she had to try one last time.

"It's okay."

Lexa's bottom lip trembled. "I shouldn't have done that. I thought I could, but-" She pressed her hands against her eyes in frustration. "I'm so sorry, Clarke."

Clarke's chest felt heavy. "Please don't go. Help me understand."

"I won't bother you again."

"That's not what I want," Clarke replied in frustration, stepping closer.

Lexa shook her head. "You don't want me."

"Why not?"

To Clarke, Lexa seemed broken. Like something in her had finally shattered.

"You started looking at me after your vision," Lexa whispered. "We never spoke until… until you had it. And I never realized it was you in mine until I saw you drawing."

"What does it matter?"

"You don't know me," Lexa told her, voice cracking. "If you did, your vision would never become true. You'd want nothing to do with me."

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth," Clarke snapped.

Lexa stopped short, so Clarke took a deep breath and stepped even closer.

"Lexa. I don't need to be protected. You're right, we don't know much about each other. So let me learn and let me make my own decisions afterward. Please. You can't pretend there's nothing between us - you can't."

"The visions-"

"I don't give a fuck about the visions," Clarke told her stubbornly. "Maybe it opened my eyes, but it didn't create feelings out of thin air. That's not possible."

Lexa still looked skittish, ready to bolt at any moment. Clarke reached out for her hand, relieved when Lexa took it. It was so different than the rooftop, where Lexa had grabbed hers so confidently. How could a person be so torn?

"Maybe you were right this morning," Clarke said softly. "We've skipped a lot of steps. So let's start over."

Lexa finally caught her eyes. "I hurt people, Clarke. I don't mean to, but inevitably it's what I do."

Clarke knew that was all she'd get out of Lexa tonight. Hesitantly, she cupped her cheek.

"How about this? If the rain lets up, I take you to the river this weekend. We bring some drinks, some snacks, maybe some hiking shoes. You can tell me about the Mountain Men and I can tell you about the weird resumes I'll inevitably get this week."

Lexa let out a chuckle, which made Clarke smile hopefully. "Doesn't sound too scary, does it?"

"No. That sounds nice."

Clarke felt hopeful for the first time. "Just two people hanging out, getting to know each other."

"I'd like that." Lexa glanced at her mouth and swallowed. "I do want you, Clarke."

Clarke pressed her index against her lips. "I know. Nobody kisses a friend like that. But…"

"Fresh start?"

"Right.” Clarke still had to speak her mind: “Lexa, you can't keep running away without telling me why. I'm patient but I'm not a saint. I get angry too. I get scared."

Lexa nodded quietly, looking down at their hands before she glanced around the room.

"You were closing up."

"Yeah, did you not notice the chairs on the tables?"

"I was preoccupied. Can I help?"

"Lexa… I think maybe you should go home."

Lexa looked down. "I'm sorry, I must be giving you whiplash."

"Just a little," Clarke smiled.

"I'll see you this weekend?"

"I didn't mean you can't swing by for a quick hello and a cup of coffee. Or not coffee. Wells is baking up a storm, it'd be a pity if you missed it."

"That sounds nice."

Clarke accompanied her to the door, where she noticed the rain had become heavier. It was incessant these days, washing down the streets of Costial and keeping the coffee shops and movie theaters busy. Nothing unusual for the season. She grabbed one of the forgotten umbrellas in the stand by the entrance, giving it to Lexa.

"That's alright-"

"Take it. I don't you want coming in sneezing and sniffling this week."

"Thank you, Clarke." Slowly, hesitantly, Lexa kissed her cheek. "Goodnight."

After Lexa walked out in the rain and turned the corner with one last glance over her shoulder, Clarke stood in the dark for a moment. Then, she walked to the back room and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the ground. She clutched her heart, eyes closing as she let the last few minutes rush over her. Whiplash didn't even begin to cover it.

In the resounding silence, she tried processing what had just happened. She could still feel Lexa's kiss, everything she had imagined and more. But then Lexa had pulled away. It felt like she was two different people, one aching with desire like Clarke, the other convinced it would hurt them both. But why?

Clarke thought back to when she had first noticed Lexa. Courteous, quiet Lexa who had placed her order and sat near the weeping fig tree for hours while she worked. What could have driven her to Costial? It couldn't be the job opportunities - she didn't work in theater and the Gazette was no more reputable than their neighboring cities' newspapers. Family was the obvious guess, but then why not come earlier? What kind of life had she left behind that still haunted her today?

Clarke wasn't sure she'd be able to shut up this weekend, too wrapped up in Lexa's mystery to keep herself from asking questions. She wanted to know everything but knew she had to be cautious. Still, spending time together was a step forward. She was relieved Lexa hadn't run after all, but it would be difficult to forget the pain in her eyes. Despite the uncertainty of their relationship, if it could even be defined, Clarke had a feeling it would be worth fighting for.

-

[part eight]

[hailbop1701]

STAR!!!

Thank you @dreamers-wonderland! This was a lot of fun to back through and talk about! 😅 (Still no beta for this part. I left it as it was when I posted it. )

Only The Beginning Chapter 1: Old Friends

(Writers Commentary) 

The air was freezing and you had been running for a solid hour. Groaning you looked down at your stomach, moving your hand you hissed when it came away soaked in blood. “Damnit,” you growled frustratedly. 

“Can’t run away you fucking bitch!” a voice cried out angrily from behind you. Rolling your eyes you placed your hand back on the gunshot wound in hopes to keep as much blood in your body as possible. The sound of footsteps was getting louder behind you making you sigh heavily, 

“I’m bleeding too much,” you muttered in annoyance. Glancing over your shoulder you quickly duck behind a dumpster. The footsteps slow and come to a jog as they pass your hiding spot. Gritting your teeth you pull the knife from your boot and crept up behind the merc. Steadying your frantic breathing you lunged, plunging the knife into the man’s neck. The merc didn’t make a sound as he crumpled to the ground. Yanking the knife out of the merc’s neck you wiped it clean on the guy’s jacket, 

“Don’t fucking move!” a voice screamed from behind you, huffing a breath you gripped the knife tighter. “Get up and slowly turn around!” the voice screamed again. 

“Okay do you not want me to move or do you want me to get up and turn around?” you asked sassily. The man (You decided) growled, “Get the fuck up. Slowly with your hands where I can see em’ “ 

I wanted the reader in this story to be a bit more out there. She mouths off more and gets into a lot more trouble. Here you can tell she is getting rather fed up with constantly being on the run or “taking care of” mercenaries. She’s constantly feeling guilty for the lives she’s taking and does her best in finding other ways. 

Rolling your eyes you eased the knife back into your boot and lifted your bloody hands into the air. Groaning you slowly rose to your feet and turned to face the paid mercenary aiming a gun at you. “What the hell are you?” he whispered, hands shaking, a flash of pity coursed through you. Taking a deep breath you looked the man dead in the eyes, “Leave the city and never come back. Final warning,” you offered, voice a deadly calm. 

The man shifted nervously, “They’ll kill me,” he hissed eyes darting around as if the UAC was going to jump out and say “Boo!” 

I really wanted to make the UAC a ghost story a company to be feared.  John and the Reader being on the run from them for so long and still being alive is practically unheard of. So they sort of become legends in certain circles. 

You grimaced, “I’ll kill you if you give a reason too, run and get a new line of work,” you ground out starting to feel dizzy from blood loss. The mercenary slowly began to lower his gun, “What are you?” he asked again. 

As he lowered his gun you placed your hand on the bullet wound again, “Honey you don’t wanna know,” you grumbled keeping your hands where the twitchy man could see them, you didn’t need any more holes. 

The merc holstered his weapon, “ They want you, really bad. That guy...Kennex too.” he said eyeing you as you opened up a manhole. Wrinkling your nose at the intense smell of piss, shit, and death. Grunting in pain you lifted the dead man, dragging him toward the manhole. “Yeah they’re persistent this time around,” you muttered finally after dumping the body. The distant splash and grinding of the manhole cover was the only sound between you and the merc. Nudging the cover back into place with the toe of your boot you saw that the merc drifted to your side curiously, 

I actually played around with the idea of having this merc be the ancestor of one of the bridge crew of the Enterprise. Who knows I might still do it.  I kinda left him descriptionless just in case I wanted to use him later. I’m still unsure of who he really is. 

“What are you going to do?” he asked, brows furrowed. “Well, for starters get this mess fixed and maybe take a nap,” you joked lightly moving in the direction of the wall. “I mean with the UAC!” 

Glancing over your shoulder you grin, “I’m going to be a pain in their ass until they leave me and Kennex the hell alone!” 

The reader will go pretty great lengths into protecting her people. Her team, Sam, Duke, and especially John. If you read the epilogue in “To Hell And Back” you would have seen that they spent a whole year running away from the UAC together. A lot of bonding could happen in that time. Though not the kind of bonding you would have liked 😏

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

John unlocked his front door with a quiet sigh, they were no closer to catching the bastard who had been kidnapping and killing young women. He had stopped two weeks ago and the trail is starting to go cold. John kicked his door shut, balancing beer and take out in his hands; he breathed the air and froze. 

Dropping the bags onto a side table John pulled his gun and entered his living room. A shadow sat against the large windows, curled into themselves. “Not exactly how I wanted to see you again but I didn’t have many options,” 

John choked, “(Y/N)?” 

He knew it was her but I think he really didn’t want to believe it. He’s still pretty heartbroken from when they separated and she never called or wrote. Didn’t visit or say anything after he lost his leg.  That’s how I imagined Anna got to him so easily at first. He was still raw and she was the perfect distraction. I’m not gonna beat around the bush so I am going to confirm that John does indeed like the reader a great deal (More than friends) but he hides it not wanting to ruin their friendship. 

You grunted in pain as you pushed yourself off of the ground, “You’ve been shot. Why aren’t you healing?” John asked, holstering his weapon. You rolled your eyes fondly, 

“The bullet is still lodged in there, I can get it out by myself,” you mumbled and hissed in pain. John gave you a look, “You know you don’t have to be shot to see me,” 

You snorted and sat down heavily on a chair, “It’s been five years John, I figured that you would want me to keep my distance,” 

John pressed his lips into a thin line, “I was mad, I only heard from you by the occasional postcards you’ve sent,” he grumbled from across the room. Digging through a series of drawers John looked up at your silence. 

“It’s a really long story,” you sighed shifting in your chair; John grunted pulling a black zip-up bag and a flashlight from the depths of the drawer he was searching through. He crossed the room in quick strides, “You’ll have plenty of time to tell me,” he whispered crouching in front of you. 

Oh he’s still mad but the way I imagined it was that he’s really good at keeping his emotions in check. John is very bottled up and eventually, he will have to unload and it won’t be pretty when he does. 

You huffed a laugh, “Yeah I’m going to be out for a day or two,” John smirked putting the lit flashlight between his teeth, he grabbed a pair of surgical scissors from the black bag. Cutting your shirt open John wiped away the blood with a clean towel, “Why are you in the city (Y/N)?” he asked, his real question is ‘Why were you shot in my city and where is the body?’ 

Clenching your jaw you breathed deeply as John dug around for the bullet stuck in your abdomen. “I’m helping an old friend,” you said cryptically, hands clutching onto the chair’s arms. The metal creaked and groaned under your grip, John raised an eyebrow. 

“(Y/N) what’s going on?”

You took a shaky breath, “The UAC found you and put a rather large bounty on your head,” 

John froze for a millisecond before cursing under his breath, you yelped when he pulled the slug from your abdomen. Dropping it into a glass he quickly placed gauze on the bleeding, healing wound. Panting you dropped your head back, “How many?” his voice was quiet and his eyes practically glowed in the dark. 

You looked away from them, “Four, I convinced the fifth one to find a new line of work,” 

For those of you curious the bounty is million each. The reader and John are full of C24 and if at all possible the UAC wants them brought in alive well at least one of them brought in alive anyway. 

John watched you carefully for a moment; his hand found yours and pried them from the warped remains of the chair. “There are more coming, huh?” he asked quietly. You glanced down at him again, 

“It’s my fault,” sitting up you shook off John’s hands, he sat back on his heels giving you room to breathe. Jumping out of the chair you began to pace back and forth like a caged animal. 

“I found all of them, John. The ARK’s, and I blew them to hell. They-they killed my team and left Hunter in a wheelchair!” You screamed, grabbing the chair and throwing it across the room with a loud crash. John didn’t move or flinch, he simply got to his feet and watched you sadness in his eyes. “It’s my fault, I should have just left them alone,” 

The reader has been on her own for quite some time (five years). She is full of anger and anxiety and is constantly looking over her shoulder. Being in the same place for so long will put her on edge and John will be the only one to keep her calm. He has a talent for it. She constantly blames herself for her actions in destroying the ARKS and she holds a lot of weight on her shoulders. 

 At some point, after I finish the series I was thinking about doing a small series of one-shots/Drabbles to give you happy readers a view into what had happened and adventures that were cut out. Deleted scenes if you will.  

“They were going to find me again eventually (Y/N). It’s not your fault and you know it, and it wasn’t your fault when your team died. Hunter didn’t blame you for the chair either!” John said, keeping his voice calm. He slowly stepped toward you as if moving any more quickly he would scare you off. Tears cascaded down your face, the long sleepless nights, the fighting and, the weight of the world finally catching up to you. 

Quickly turning away you grabbed your discarded coat from the floor and moved away to the open window you came through. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” you mumbled moving to your escape inhumanly fast. John was behind you in a second. 

In this story I’m going to definitely be showing the reader and John all superhuman at certain points. They have to be REALLY careful though so they don’t get caught. There will be eyes everywhere and not all of them are the UAC. 

Wrapping his arms around you, he easily held you in place. “Stop. Take a breath,” he ordered softly. The anxiety within you calmed some at his proximity; taking a deep breath you let it out. John loosened his grip some, trusting you not to bolt for the open window. He moved so he could look you in the eyes, 

“You’re running on fumes (Y/N) I can tell. When was the last time you slept or ate?” you avoided his gaze not answering. John hummed not surprised, “You’re going to sleep and in the morning we’re going to figure out how to get the UAC to fuck off,” 

You huffed out a humorless laugh, “John I’ve been dealing with the UAC for almost six years. They won’t stop until they get what they want,” 

“What do they want? Like you said the ARK’s are gone…” he trailed off when your expression became stormy. 

“They want C24. And the only two people left with it are you and me, they’ll kill one of us and capture the other,” you whispered and John was quiet thinking over his words carefully. 

“We made a promise, remember?” He asked with a small smile raising his pinky finger. You couldn’t help but snort, raising your finger you curled it around his. 

The pinky promise thing! I actually came up with that after dreaming about it and I thought it was damn cute and you would never expect it from a guy like John. I think he softens just a bit when the reader is around and sometimes that scares him. It’s sort of like an inside joke between him and the reader. 

“We made a lot of promises John and I broke a lot of them,” you sighed looking at your best friend.

“We did and you had no choice,” he fired back tone forgiving. You scowled annoyed at being forgiven so easily. “Stop being so nice, you’re freaking me out.” 

Yeah, they bicker and banter a lot. They will tease each other obscenely! “Hey, bitch,” “Shut the fuck up asshole,” that type thing. It sounds so mean to an outsider but to them, it's pure affection.  

John nudged you almost playfully, “We promised to look out for one another and you need to ease yourself back into society,” 

You groaned, stomping your feet like a child. Fingers still hooked together John pulled you into a hug, “Stop being an infant and listen,” 

“Stop being an infant and listen,” you mocked and stuck out your tongue. John rolled his eyes and smiled at how easy it was to fall back on routine. 

*Side eyes* Infant...get it? Eh? Anyone? 

“We’ll stop every merc that will come for us and show the UAC that we don’t fuck around,” 

You pulled back a little, eyebrows disappearing into your hairline, “That is the dumbest plan-” 

“It’s brilliant,” he shushed you as he led you into his bedroom. “It’s really bad like we could die or become human pincushions bad,”  you muttered with a shake of your head. 

“I’m not sleeping with you either,” you joked, yelping when John threw a spare t-shirt and sweatpants at your head. “Go take a shower, ass,” 

Walking toward what you assumed was the restroom you shot John a cheeky grin. After you closed the bathroom door John let out a sigh, looking out the window at the falling rain John couldn’t help have a knot in his stomach. Something bad is going to happen and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was going to happen to you. John grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from the bed jaw set. 

Depositing the pillow and blanket onto his new bed John stripped out of his clothes before dropping onto the couch. Getting into a comfortable position he secured his gun under his pillow; sleep being the furthest to his mind he let his thoughts wander. 

He thought about your postcards and your mission. You had been keeping the UAC busy, so busy that until only recently that they had left him alone. He hadn’t exactly been hiding, he’s been making a lot of noise. Causing a stir, maybe in hopes that you would contact him, even if it were to tell him to shut the fuck up. The ARK’s are gone, and the UAC is crumbling into nothing, but that doesn’t mean that they’ll stop or not sell their secrets to someone else so they can swoop in for the kill. 

Postcards don’t really count...especially when they just say a single word on them. The reader and John have a codeword system. So when she would write “Whiskey” on a postcard it means that she’s okay and alive. If she wrote “Tequila” then it would have meant that she’s in trouble. And I’m sort of sure y'all caught on what “Siberia'' means. If you don’t know it means ‘I need to disappear again,’ 

Like I said earlier one-shots and drabbles. It will be a thing...eventually. 

“It’s only the beginning,” he whispered, the truth of the words made him want to shudder. John took a deep breath and listened, the sound of the shower running and you humming softly filled him with warmth. Enough for him to relax and drift off to sleep with the hopes of you still being there in the morning. 

What I had in mind for my lovely sequel was to combine the gritty, horror, and the cracky banter of Doom and Almost Human. So there will be cracky moments, there will be horrific moments, and there will be tension filled moments. The reader and John will get closer and more domestic in this story. Chapter 4 is already up and I’m already outlining number five! 

SO much is going to happen and I’m practically dying here trying to keep it all to myself. 

But like John said “It’s Only The Beginning,” so stay tuned! 

-H ❤🖖

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@writerdee1701

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[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within--Ch. 7

A/N: This takes place at Revolution, with a small set of details changed. 

Chapter 7

           Heart pounding. A desperate rush of adrenaline into my veins. Deep breaths. My first showing with the Inner Circle. And it was on a pay-per-view. I bounced, working warmth into my limbs, rolling my shoulders. This was the moment that would make that debut worthwhile.

           I dressed in my gear—Daisy Duke style denim shorts over dark tights and fishnet stockings, a tight zippered camo top, and combat boots—and made sure that my makeup and hair was done. That was something different about AEW that I liked, most of the time. I could control my look. Sure, I had to go heavy handed for the cameras, but I didn’t have to deal with horrible makeup ideas that made me look stupid.

           The one thing I hated was that I had to pay to keep my hair done these days. The red had faded more than I liked, but Leva Bates had taken to helping me out with it.

           Jericho stepped up nearby, bandana on. His jacket was studded with two-inch long spikes. I was pretty sure it was the same one that he’d used to put Jon’s eye out. Santana and Ortiz were just behind him—Santana with a bandana over his face and dark sunglasses—with Hager and Sammy not far away. The latter looked me up and down with a smirk.

           “Looking good, Black.” Sammy said nastily.

           I smirked. “Try something, Guevara, and see what happens.”

           Jericho grinned and made sure that his AEW championship was tight around his waist. I grinned as I pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves. “Keep it in your pants, Sammy. She’ll kick your ass before you can blink.”

           Before he could say anything else, music swelled through the arena. Jon’s entrance began and I could hear the pop for him when he appeared out of the crowd. I watched Jericho’s mouth turn down at the sound of people screaming for his opponent.

           There was a sudden quiet and a choir began singing. I rolled my eyes at the pure drama of it. Jericho had gotten himself an entire church style choir to sing his theme, even though he knew his version would play before we walked out.

           “Big Hurt, Sammy, you know your jobs. Don’t let me down.” Jericho turned toward me. “And you know what you’re supposed to do.”

           “Of course I do, Chris. And we’re going to make it look perfect.”

***

           There were only three of us at ringside—me, Santana, and Ortiz. Jon and Jericho were fighting like caged animals in the ring, doing their best to destroy one another. Every time Jon caught sight of me, I smirked and stayed in his line of vision. It was enough of a distraction that Jericho could get a few good shots in every now and then.

           About halfway through the match, Jericho had Jon tight in the Walls of Jericho right in the middle of the ring. I paced outside the ring watching the whole thing, keeping my eye on where Aubrey was, waiting for the moment when I could make a move.

           It happened when Jon was caught deep in the Walls of Jericho. I stood between Santana and Ortiz opposite the hard camera, leaning on the apron. Jericho was facing away from us, which made Jon have to look square at me.

           I pressed my palms against the apron and started beating out a rhythm, yelling into his anguished face. “C’mon, Jon! C’mon… you’re almost there!”

           There was a flicker of something like hope in his visible blue eye. As if he thought all of this had been a mistake or a ruse to trick Jericho. I wrapped my fists around the bottom rope and pushed it toward him, cutting off a few inches he would need to crawl to break the hold. Santana kept an eye on Aubrey, snatching at her foot to distract her when she started paying too much attention to where I was.

           Jon crawled along the canvas, reaching out for the rope I’d pushed toward him. As soon as he got within grasping distance, I smirked, put my foot up against the apron and pulled the rope back as far as I could.

           Unfortunately, Aubrey saw me. She slipped between the bottom and middle ropes and started railing at me, waving her finger in my face. I let go of the rope and stepped back, both hands up over my head. I backed all the way into the security rail and laughed, even thought people in the first row were shouting horrible things at me.

           That was when I knew I’d done a good job… that they were starting to believe that I was a heel. And fucking over Jon Moxley seemed to be a good way to get on the fans’ bad side.

           Jericho wasn’t happy. I could hear him shouting and cursing as he paced the ring. He pushed and crowded Aubrey toward the ropes, getting in her face. I knew this part of the plan. If it looked like he was going to lose… he had to get disqualified. By any means necessary.

           Aubrey looked him over after he pushed her hard enough to make her stumble. Santana and Ortiz grabbed Jon by the ankles and started dragging him toward the apron, but he kicked free and got to his feet.

           Just in time to get a glimpse of Jake Hager before getting sucker punched right in the face. It was a beautiful blow that knocked Jon clear on his ass.

           Unfortunately, Aubrey saw it. The four of us—Santana, Ortiz, myself, and Hager—we stood ringside looking as innocent as we could. All of us with our hands up, shouting false pleas that we’d done nothing wrong. She pointed at each of us in turn. Santana and Ortiz climbed onto the apron, cursing and begging.

           Aubrey wound up… and tossed all four of us from ringside. I let out a scream of frustration and beat the apron with my fists. My fellow Inner Circle members stood on the ramp, Aubrey leaning over the ropes to yell at them. Somehow, for an instant, she’d forgotten I was there. She climbed through, getting up into Hager’s face.

           I looked back toward the audience, grinning as I saw Sammy Guevara running up and vaulting the railing. Rolling my eyes at his choice of attire, I slid into the ring. Jon was down on his knees, still reeling from Hager’s punch. In an instant, Sammy had snatched up Jericho’s title and tossed it into the ring. I snatched it up and hit Jon square in the chin with a running lariat, title in hand.

           Rolling under the ropes, I tossed the belt back to Sammy, who hurriedly jammed it back on the ringside table. Together, he and I jumped the security railing and took off running toward the concourse. Fans yelled and booed as we ran by. I couldn’t stop laughing.

           Security met us at the concourse entrance and guided us around to the backstage area. Once we were safely out of view, I ran to the nearest monitor and crowded up into the Elite, all of whom were watching the match with interest.

           “Budge up, Hangman. Make some room,” I said, elbowing Adam Page out of the way. He chuckled and scooted a steel chair behind him for me to stand on. Grinning, I leaned over, forearms digging into his and Kenny’s shoulders for balance.

           The match continued on. Blood dripped down Jon’s face from the shot he’d taken to the ring post early in the match. Jericho hammered his left side with punches and forearms. Just as it seemed Jon was going to hit him with the Paradigm Shift, Jericho went for his good eye.

           “You son of a bitch!” I shouted at the monitor, blood boiling.

           “You say that better than Kenny,” Nick called from the end of the row.

           “Fuck off, Jackson,” Kenny retorted playfully.

           “Hey, fellas. There’s a lady present!” Hangman declared, looking slightly concerned.

           “You can mind your goddamn business, Page,” I snapped back even though there was a wide grin on my face. The cowboy laughed and shrugged, almost causing me to lose my balance.

           Jon hobbled around the ring, trying his best to find Jericho. Jericho taunted him, keeping just out of reach of the clubbing blows that Jon could deliver. For a moment, it looked like Jericho was going to be able to deliver the Judas Effect. He ran at Jon, who was struggling to get to his feet. In an explosion of movement, Jon burst at Jericho and hit him hard with a sloppy sort of Paradigm Shift.

           Smirking like the devil, he lifted the patch off to reveal a perfectly healed eye. I squealed at the pop that rattled the roof. Jon turned just as Jericho ran at him. One kick to the gut and an elevated Paradigm Shift later, Aubrey hit the one… two… three…

           “Hell yes,” I shouted, popping up so fast that I wobbled on the chair. I let out a yelp as I tipped, slipping sideways.

           Before my body slammed into the concrete, I landed in a tangle of cradling limbs. The Bucks grinned as they set me on my feet. “Watch yourself,” Nick said laughing.

           I smacked him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jackson,” I said, wriggling past him to stand in front of the monitor. Jon was in the ring, his title in his hands, talking and celebrating and cussing. He was grinning in a way that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I wanted desperately to go down to the ring to and help him celebrate.

           Jericho came charging through the curtain into the backstage area. He glared the moment he laid eyes on me. “What did I tell you about that Elite trash, Black?”

           I rolled my eyes and peeked around Nick’s shoulder. “From where I’m standing, they’re the ones with gold. You just got your ass kicked.”

           “Because you couldn’t do your job! Don’t think about screwing me over. If you think you’re going to cost me my title and then run back to Moxley, you’re either an idiot or a moron.”

           My blood burned. I pushed past Nick and shrugged off Matt’s searching hand. I stalked up to Jericho and stared him down, even though I had to look up at him. “Chris, do us both a favor and shut your mouth. And go fuck yourself.”

           I flipped him off and shoved Sammy out of my way. From behind me, I could hear Matt and Nick laughing. I ignored them all and made my way to Jon’s dressing room to say congratulations.

           On the way, I stopped and grabbed my phone from the female talent locker room. There was a message on it from Seth. I opened it to find a picture of him, Sefina in his lap, Kevin curled up beside him. Another came in just after… a snapshot of the TV in the living room paused at the exact moment I’d clocked Jon in the face with the belt.

           Nice shot! And I LOVE that gear on you.

           I grinned like a fool, glad that I’d changed my mind on wearing my Inner Circle shirt.

           “Dollface!” I turned at the sound of Jon’s voice. He was beaming, the title draped over his shoulder, as he ran down the hall and swept me in his arms. Jon was sweaty and still oozing blood from the cut over his eye. “Did you have to hit me that fucking hard?”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @lakamaa12​ @sammyfireheartashryver @cburdine​ @easyobsession​ @xbutterflius-effectusx​ @0paint-the-stars0​ @echrai @themumbler​ @bigdunneenergy​ @queenofthearchitect​ @vebner37​ @reigns-rollins-ambrose​ @mother-forker​ @gwyneirastorm​

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Ephemera Chapter Three (Early)

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 7.2k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hey guys! I decided to say screw it and put links in here. I feel like the chapter functions much more cleanly this way, so hopefully the Tumblr gods take pity on me. Anyway, this chapter is early!! As per a request below the last chapter, I’ve gotten this one finished a few days before Sunday, so it’s goin up. I’ll post Chapter Four on Sunday as scheduled! As always, please feel free to send me a message if you’d like! Comments, questions, critiques, theories, send them my way! I’ll respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them.

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

I removed my heels in the stairwell and began jogging barefoot up the steep flights. However harebrained, my scheme was working well. Panting, I carried my shoes in my right hand and used my left to claw my way up the railing, pulling my aching body up the stairs. As I approached the tenth floor landing, I paused and caught my breath, careful not to heave on my inhales and exhales. I pushed open the heavy door and emerged just outside the gallery, Jungkook’s back receding into the shadows of the hallway.

He wasted no time.

Silently, I maneuvered my way into the gallery, guiding the door shut behind me. I set my shoes and purse on the floor beside the front doors, gritting my teeth as I labored to be as silent as possible. My footfalls were gentle as I tiptoed through the shadows, creeping close to the walls in case he suddenly turned around and barreled back onto the floor. I heard the sound of his shoes squeaking against the wood down the hallway, a brisk pace, and found myself rushing as well to keep up.

I slipped into the hall and found his back still turned to me, turning silently into the break room. I straightened a little and crossed my arms. If I hadn’t found anything useful in there, he sure as hell wouldn’t. I walked quickly into a dark alcove beside the break room door, pressing my ear against the wall to hear him. But he was quiet as a mouse as he searched the room. Predictably, he only spent a few moments inside before deeming it fruitless and stepping back into the hallway. Under cover of the shadows, I watched him rake his hands through his hair and shake his head with a huff.

He turned on his heel and I pressed myself back against the wall, deeply shrouded in darkness, as he passed me. Without a second look, he was inside the backroom. I rolled my eyes. If he thought he’d make any headway back there, he was in for a nasty shock. Not only was the backroom an absolute disaster, it took near pinpoint accuracy to find your way around. I suspected the kid might even get lost in the stacks of canvases if I didn’t keep a close eye on him.

Carefully, I followed behind him, slipping through the door and padding it as I led it back to its frame. Once secured, the door released a tiny groan and I exhaled long and slow, my hands frozen on its metal surface. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was it. This had to be it. That metallic clanging had to have alerted Jungkook to the presence of another person in that dark backroom. I was caught. I was certainly caught.

But seconds ticked on in silence. Then minutes. And after several agonizing moments, I straightened my back and turned around, brows furrowed. I scanned the big room for him and saw nothing. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic falling of his footsteps, echoing dimly around the space. The factory lights flickered overhead and I righted myself, composing my breathing with a silent pat to my chest.

I crept behind him, always separated by at least one row of art supplies: haphazardly stacked canvases, broken easel legs, shelves of paintbrushes that I couldn’t name if you paid me. I could see him through the gaps in the shelves, his eyes scanning the supplies like a predator. There was something in his expression that I didn’t like, and in the brief glimpses I got of his face I could sense a desperate sort of hostility. The nameless look burned into the back of my mind as I followed him, watchful over his every movement.

Eventually, he found his way to the back of the room where Vante left the paintings he wanted displayed. Just like earlier today, I watched the yellow light swing in the draft and catch on something in the corner.

Unlike earlier today, Jungkook saw it too.

I heard his breath catch in his throat and, before I could react, he was jogging toward it. Looking now, I could see that the vague outline I’d noticed before was more than that. It was a door, covertly disguised to match the wall. Beside it, a keypad which Jungkook uncovered from behind a rectangular canvas. My eyes went wide and I glanced around quickly, searching for anything to distract Jungkook with. But as I did, I noticed something new. In the top right corner of the room, hanging from the ceiling and trained right on that camouflaged door, was a camera. Surely, I was in view as well, hiding halfway behind a shelf of gauche paints. I looked right into the lens, stared at it long and hard. I had no doubts. On the other end of that camera could be Vante himself. I steeled my gaze and lowered my head, a nearly invisible nod, before I cleared my throat and stepped out from behind the stacks.

Jungkook nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face me with beet-red cheeks and eyes as wild as his wind-swept hair. There it was again. That gambling look. Like he had a losing hand and I’d called his bluff. I crossed my arms and smiled, staring him up and down.

“Y/N, I-,” he began, then looked around the room frantically, hands poised awkwardly at his sides.

I cut the tension with a laugh and tilted my head to the side. “Baby,” I drawled, laughing again. “I told you to get my keys, not snoop around my workplace.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little and he breathed out a shaky laugh. “Sorry. I just got kinda curious being in her after hours,” he said, fishing around in his front pocket and tossing my keys at me. They arced through the air before clattering to the floor beside my bare feet. He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. “Where are your shoes?”

I picked up the keys and tilted my leg to expose my swollen ankle. “They were hurting me so I left them by the door,” I said with a sigh, fanning my hair out behind me. “Shall we leave?” I asked with a saccharine smile. “Or are there any more secrets you wanna find?” My eyes slid to the door before him.

He stiffened. “I…I mean, are there more?” he asked, blinking at the door. “Secrets, I mean.”

Quietly, I peeked at the camera, crossing my arms and pleading with whatever higher power was out there that Vante was watching. I sighed and approached Jungkook, placing my hands on his shoulders and wheeling him around towards the aisle. I was careful to guide him away from the camera, praying that he wouldn’t notice it.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, patting his back before leading the way back out to the floor. With a pang in my stomach, I realized that my note to Vante was gone and my keys remained.

“So he went snooping around?” asked Nara as I sat atop the front counter, my feet swaying. She carefully pried open one of the bunny cages and adjusted the water bottle with a huff. “Kinda suspicious.”

“Kinda?” I asked, shaking my head as I watched my sneakers bump the front of the counter. “It’s all…it’s all adding up to something really unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant is a nice way of putting it,” she said with a snort before turning her attention to the hamster cages, carefully refilling their food. “How can you be so casual about all of this? Isn’t it, like, pretty serious?”

I hummed a little and shrugged. “I mean…didn’t it all seem too good to be true from the start?” I asked, then laughed a little, surprised by how sad it sounded. “Why would a guy like him be interested in me anyway? I think it was only a matter of time anyway.”

Nara turned to me and rested a hand on her hip, brows knit as she scanned me. There was a tangible worry in her body language, and the way she looked at me made me feel like an animal on display. The daylight caught on her skin as it streamed through the pet shop windows, revealing tired bags beneath her eyes.

I sat upright and hopped off the counter, walking toward her with a pout. “Nara, are you sleeping?” I asked.

She scoffed and gave my shoulder a shove. “Your boyfriend might be using you to commit espionage and you’re worried about my sleep?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

I sighed and grabbed the strings of her apron which had come undone at the front. Carefully, I retied it. “You didn’t answer.”

She flitted her hand and shrugged, evading my gaze by pursing her lips and watching the bunnies play. “I might be spread a little thin lately with this class.”

“What class?”

“English lit,” she said with a sigh, stepping away to tend to a cage full of newly vaccinated puppies. She reached down and patted one on the head. “I’m slaving over this essay and my prof won’t give me an extension because of work.”

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms. “Do you not have any time to finish it? Are you working too many hours?” I asked.

She tossed her head to the side and chuckled. “Y/N, please. I have a mom of my own, I don’t need you on my case too.”

I stiffened, glancing away, and rubbed the back of my head. “I’ll stop nagging.”

She hissed a little and shook her head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have worded it that way,” she said, approaching and scanning my features softly.

I smiled. “It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “Whatever love I may have missed out on, Dad gave me tenfold.” I laughed, ready to change the subject, when the front door bell dinged and both Nara and I stiffened to greet the customer.

A young guy, maybe mid-twenties, sauntered in. His eyes were sharp, glancing around the pet shop like he might find secrets hidden in the abundant potted plants or the pee pads set up in the corner. His demeanor was rather reserved, lips set in a thin line, dressed in all neutrals with a cap obscuring his face whenever he looked down. He didn’t seem like the type to visit a pet store of his own free will.

But as Nara approached, I realized this wasn’t his first time here. She grinned and stood beside him. “Hello again. It was…Yoongi, right?” she asked with a giggle. The man lifted his head and only met her eyes for a scant second before clearing his throat and glancing toward the tabby cats sitting behind a panel of glass. “What are you looking for today? If I remember correctly, last time you bought a food bowl?” she asked.

The man shook his head, edging away from her. Something about him was suspicious, but I kept my mouth shut and simply watched from afar. “Need food now,” he said curtly, his voice rough and low and distinctive.

Nara spared me a glance and wiggled her eyebrows from across the store. I chuckled as I slowly eased back against the counter, hands pressed behind me. “For that cat you mentioned? What have you been feeding it the past few days?” she asked. “You found it on the street, right?”

The man glanced at her curiously before clearing his throat and nodding. “Um, yeah,” he said, scanning the pets before wandering closer to me where the rows of pet foot were stacked.

We locked eyes for a moment and, after a tense few seconds, I looked away first. “What kind of cat was it again?” asked Nara, walking close behind him with her customer service grin pasted across her face.

He furrowed his brow and glanced at her. “What’s it matter?”

“Well,” she began, still smiling, “different cats need different diets. Some cat breeds require special diets and-,”

Nara began her speech about the importance of a specialized diet and both me and this Yoongi man visibly stopped focusing. The man ran his fingers along the fronts of several bags of cat food before grabbing one and, sliding past me, set it on the counter beside the cash register.

Nara paused her lecture and tilted her head to the side, eyes wide. “Oh! Will this one be okay? Are you sure you don’t want to go with-,”

“This one’s fine,” said the man, finally looking her in the eye. When he did, I realized why he’d been avoiding it this whole time. His pale skin went slightly reddish here and there and, before the blush could spread, he looked back to the food, letting his hat cover his face.

I smiled and stepped away, biting back a laugh. “A-alright then,” said Nara, the same charming dusting of pink on her cheeks as well.

I slouched over my painting, staring abysmally down at it as it stared equally abysmally back at me. Professor Jung patrolled like a shark, staring over our shoulders as we stared at our freshly dried paintings. It wasn’t like the thing was going to change the longer I stewed on it. But each time Professor Jung skulked by I painted myself as the dutiful student, pondering my piece with furrowed brows and quiet, contemplative exhales. Truthfully, it was still the same depressing, grey piece it had been days prior. Only now, there was a horrible dash of yellow glaring up at me. The forms were jumbled, blending into one another. The colors were boring. The technique was tactless to say the least.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “So? What do you guys think now that you’ve has a few days to sleep on your pieces?” asked Professor Jung with a clap of his hands.

I jumped a little and lifted my eyes to meet his at the front of the classroom. “Illuminating,” offered one student with a snicker, to which Professor Jung simply leveled his eyes with the kid and cocked a brow.

“Taking time to rest and think on a piece of art can help you all become better artists. Things tend to come into perspective once we take a step back,” he said, nodding.

I stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at my professor for a long moment. Was that the key after all? “I still think mine looks like an elephant,” mumbled a girl beside me to her friend, to which the friend giggled behind her hand.

Across the room, Taehyung caught my eyes. How long had he been watching me anyway? The two of us locked gazes and neither made a move to smile or wave. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I’d been caught doing something naughty. I felt my cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny, and even across the room I could feel the intensity of his eyes on me. His brow was set low, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, jaw set staunch and shoulders slumped. Today he didn’t look quite so put together. He looked as if perhaps he hadn’t slept well, and he hadn’t had the time to meticulously craft an interesting ensemble, sitting instead in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans that exposed the muscles of his knees. Like the ones Jungkook liked to wear.

I cleared my throat and glanced away, eyes falling to his painting as it sat on the table. It looked pretty from far away, some delicate landscape of thick trees and a distant cabin, but I couldn’t look for long because as Professor Jung monologued, I noticed something peculiar.

Taehyung’s sweatshirt wasn’t just some Hanes throwaway.

It was Givenchy.

My brows knit as I stared at the logo emblazoned across his chest. He didn’t seem like the type to seek out high-end brands, and being a student I’d naturally assumed he, like me, was broke to the bone. But the longer I looked the more curious it became. Not only was his sweatshirt name brand, but it looked like his shoes were authentic Doc Martens. Even his pants seemed like they were made of high-quality denim.

Before I knew it, class was dismissed and to my surprise, students began gathering their things to leave. Startled, I jumped out of my seat and collected my belongings, struggling to hold my canvas without dropping my backpack or my cold cup of coffee.

I huffed a little with the effort, but I had little time to lament my frustrations because before I could even react, my painting was snatched away from me. “Hey-,” I began, but stopped short when I realized it was Taehyung towering over me, a soft smile on his face that didn’t quite touch his eyes. In his hands were both our paintings. “Taehyung,” I breathed with a grin.

He nudged me gently with the corner of his canvas and jerked his head toward the exit. “Looked like you were struggling.”

I chuckled and ran my fingers through my hair. “You could say that,” I said, sighing.

The two of us set off down the hallway, our arms brushing now and then. “What have you been up to these days?” he asked.

“It hasn’t been that long since we argued about What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim,” I countered with a grin, eyeing him sidelong.

He smiled back at me, but again it was a halfway smile. The kind you give when you’re holding something in. “Long enough for something to have changed,” he said, jerking both our canvases up against his side to avoid accidentally smacking a passerby.

I pursed my lips and thought a moment. Had anything changed? Jungkook was still acting like himself, whoever that really was. After catching him in the act, I figured perhaps I’d have had the courage to confront him about it. But reality was endlessly disappointing. Every time I saw his name light up my phone, I was filled with something cold and restless. Something that demanded to be addressed. But all I could do in the end was read and cherish his every word and respond with a heart.

I was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I?

“Nothing,” I said with a nod, picking at the cuticles on my free hand. I took a sip of coffee, and found it displeasingly chilled. “Nothing’s changed.”

Taehyung glanced down at me and scanned my face. I glanced away down the hallway with a sigh. “You know-,”

“Forget it,” I said, waving my hands. My coffee sloshed coldly against the paper cup and with a sigh I carefully tossed the thing into the closest trash can. I turned to Taehyung with a wide smile. “Let’s do something, hm? I’ve got some things I wanna forget about and you seem like a good distraction.”

His brows lifted and he stared at me with round eyes. “Do something?”

I nodded, snatching my painting from beneath his arm and holding it close. I smiled. “I’ll take you to my happy place,” I said, laughing.

“Hey, Mr. Kim!” I called as I guided Taehyung past a few courtyard benches.

The ground was slightly uneven, and the footpath below us was overgrown with thin plants. Easy to trip on, and I’d know. Past the stone archways, we entered the cafe. Mr. Kim sat with a big smile behind the counter, his head in his hand as we entered. I waved and gently sat my painting beside a stool by the bar, hopping up and sitting down as Taehyung followed suit. I watched Taehyung’s eyes flit over the paper lanterns hanging on strings overhead, touch upon the old brick wall hosting hundreds of polaroids of friends and patrons, the many potted plants, the delicate yellow flowers beside us. The place was warm as ever and cozier than usual. Patrons milled about the large bookcases or sat quietly gazing out at the busy Hongdae street. I shucked off my jacket and slung it over the back of my stool.

Mr. Kim, a weathered man with a big heart, grinned as he began working on my drink, not even sparing a moment to ask what I wanted. “Who’s this?” he asked, eyeing Taehyung over the coffee maker. “Not the boyfriend Nara showed me.”

Taehyung stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could I laughed and shook my head. “He’s a friend,” I said, resting my cheek in my palm with a smile. “Last time we hung out, we went to that coffee chain on campus.” I stuck out my tongue in mock disgust.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide. “Was the coffee bad?” he asked, real concern in his expression.

I laughed and patted his arm, but retracted my hand as his cheeks went pink. “No, it’s not that,” I said, grinning at Mr. Kim. “Just that this place has the best coffee.”

“What is this place?” asked Taehyung with a wondrous look around.

Mr. Kim slid my coffee in front of me before beginning work on Taehyung’s. “It’s called Nunchi,” I said quietly, watching Mr. Kim as he worked carefully. He’d entered the zone: that perfect space where all his focus was on his task. Nara and I used to take advantage of this zone often as kids. “You know what nunchi is?”

He nodded, entranced by Mr. Kim’s capable movements like I was. “When someone is really good at reading other people’s emotions. Like…being in touch with what other people are feeling without speaking and reacting well to it.”

“At least you know,” teased Mr. Kim with a wink my way. “Miss Y/N is still working on her nunchi.”

I gaped, patting my chest. “Hey! I have excellent nunchi!” I said, wagging my finger at Mr. Kim.

“Your dad has excellent nunchi,” Mr. Kim said with a loud laugh, the one that came from his gut like a shout. “Anyhow, here at the shop we know what you need even when you don’t know it yourself.”

Taehyung jumped a little before glancing at me out the corner of his eye and offering a smile. “So you know each other well?” he asked.

I nodded with a soft chuckle. “Too well,” I joked. “He’s my best friend’s dad.”

“And your dad’s business partner,” said Mr. Kim, raising his brows.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, sighing. “My dad lives out on a ranch. What he harvests, he sends here for their seasonal menus.”

Taehyung stared at me with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you weren’t from Seoul.”

I laughed, patting his shoulder. “How could you? We only just met.”

Taehyung’s expression faltered for half a second before he laughed and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck gently. “You’re right,” he said. Mr. Kim slid him a cup on a white platter and took a step back with crossed arms. “What’s this?” he asked before taking a sip, eyeing Mr. Kim over his glasses. He placed both hands around the coffee cup.

“It’s a latte,” he said, chuckling. “Caramel latte, not too bitter. Outsourced beans so it’s pretty nutty.”

“Nutty?” asked Taehyung, turning to me.

I laughed. “It’s the aroma,” I said, cupping my hands around Taehyung’s and bringing the coffee up to his nose. “Take a whiff.”

His eyes fluttered a little before shutting, brows furrowing as he inhaled through his nostrils. “Mm,” he breathed, nodding once before lowering our hands. I grabbed my own drink and took a sip. “I could smell it.”

I nodded, sighing into my drink. “Of course you could,” I said with a smile at Mr. Kim. “Because our barista is a master.”

Mr. Kim tipped his baseball cap and laughed. “I’ll fix you two a snack,” he said, walking easily into the small adjacent kitchen.

I sipped my drink quietly, watching the coffee swirl around the glass. “So what’s your drink?” asked Taehyung, turning to me with a gentle smile, his chin in his hand.

I slid it to him to sip. “Antoccino,” I said.

He pulled a sour face as he took a drink before politely pushing the saucer back to me. “Bitter,” he said.

I laughed, pensive as I took another drink. “It’s half milk and half espresso. I figured you’d hate it.”

“So that’s why it’s called Nunchi,” he said with a knowing nod. “He knows what we want.”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. I wished I could say the same about myself. Perhaps Mr. Kim was right. Perhaps my nunchi wasn’t quite as good as I thought it was. “Hey, uh…thanks for coming out with me today,” I said, running my fingertip along the rim of my glass.

Taehyung visibly went stiff before coughing a little, passing it off as a laugh. “Um, no. It-it’s fine. Honestly, I’m happy you invited me,” he said.

I peeked up at him and smiled a little. “You seem like a very nice person,” I said, thinking back to that day at the gallery. How suspicious I’d been. Looking at him now, taking quiet little drinks of his latte like a cat, it was hard to believe I’d ever thought he was capable of being underhanded. “I’m sure you have more important things to do,” I said with a nod.

Taehyung jumped slightly and stared at me. “What? No! There’s nothing,” he said.

I chuckled and nodded. “It’s okay,” I said, surprised by the somberness in my voice. “Forget I said anything.”

Taehyung was quiet for a long moment, each of us staring at our coffees without uttering a word. “Are you doing okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft like a whisper.

I swallowed hard and smiled, unable to meet his eyes. “Mhm,” I said. “Sorry. I asked you to come out and forget the bad stuff, and here I am throwing a pity party.” I turned to him with a smile. “I think I’m okay. And…well, if I’m not then I will be soon.”

His eyes were dark and troubled. He kept opening and closing his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Like he couldn’t find the right thing to say, or perhaps there were too many things to say that he couldn’t pick one. He sighed and rubbed his nose bridge before lifting his eyes and offering a barely-there smile.

“There’s always gonna be something to make you sad,” he said with a nod. “That’s life.”

“You’re right,” I said, forcing a smile. I suspected he meant to be comforting, but the words hung in the air like dead weight and settled uneasily on my chest.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not it,” he said, grabbing my arm. I stiffened, turning wide eyes toward Taehyung as he stumbled over his words. “I-I’m not very good at this, but…what I mean is that we can’t control all the bad shit that happens to us, but we can control how we react to it. We don’t always have power over life, but we always have power over ourselves.”

I furrowed my brow and stared at him, puzzled. “But what if it’s something really serious? Something you desperately need to get to the bottom of but can’t?”

He released my arm and turned back to his latte, blinking at it as he took another sip. He peeked at me out the corner of his eyes. “Well then you’ve got a choice to make,” he said carefully, eyes sliding back to his drink. His lashes brushed the apples of his cheeks and, sitting just like that with a quiet thoughtfulness to him, I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed handsomer than usual. “Are you gonna let the fear of the unknown consume you?” he asked, then lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Or are you gonna take back your power?”

My heart raced as our gazes locked. There passed a moment of profound understanding. Like neither of us needed to explain ourselves to know what the other had meant. Like he knew without knowing what I needed to hear. I pressed my lips thin and set my jaw.

Before I could respond, Mr. Kim returned with some cheesecake, two forks, and a big welcoming smile. Taehyung and I both smiled our thanks and wordlessly took a bite.

Jungkook and I sat quietly in his apartment, lounging on his couch as a crime documentary droned on his television. The evening outside was cold and brisk, but inside nestled beneath several layers of blankets, I was toasty warm. Every now and again, Jungkook’s fingers would brush against mine beneath the covers like he was trying to initiate physical touch and, on impulse, I’d jerk away. I only removed my eyes from the screen to check my phone once in a while, sneaking covert glances around the small living room for clues as I did.

I was trying my best, but every second I sat beside him was a second that felt like forgery. Each time his tender eyes would wash over my face, I’d feel a tickle in my stomach that I couldn’t ignore.

If only reclaiming my power was easier.

At around six, relief finally arrived in the form of Kim Seokjin.

“Hello, children. Papa’s home!” he called, slamming the front door open with a big, powerful laugh. He tossed the plastic grocery bags aside on the tiled kitchen counter and throw his arms out wide.

Laughing, I hopped out from beneath the blankets and rushed him like a football player, colliding against his chest with a thud that stole his breath. He sputtered a little as he patted my back, Jungkook chuckling from the couch. I pulled myself away to give the older boy a proper once-over. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, but every time he came around he seemed goofier than before. Now he stood above me with a big grin and wiggling eyebrows. There was mischief in his dark irises.

Carefully, I took a step back and crossed my arms, peering at him. “What are you plotting?” I asked, cocking a brow. God, if only it were that easy to interrogate Jungkook.

Seokjin clapped a hand to his chest and gaped, wide-eyed. “I am hurt!” he called, staggering back against the counter with more than a little theatrics. “My roommate’s girlfriend doesn’t even trust me!”

Your roommate’s girlfriend doesn’t trust your roommate either, I thought with a scowl. “What’s in the bag, Jin?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at my side with an arm draped over my shoulders.

I peeked up at him, the skin of my neck warm where his cheek touched it. Seokjin smirked and opened one of the plastic bags, beckoning us to look inside. Underneath the yellow glow of their fluorescent kitchen lights, several six-packs of cheap beer lay atop one another, some half-toppled over on their sides.

I laughed and shook my head. “You two can feel free to get shitfaced on a weekday, but I’ve got class tomorrow morning.”

“It’s a Thursday,” said Seokjin, rolling his eyes. “Barely a weekday.”

“Don’t you two have work or something?” I asked, crossing my arms and bowing out from underneath Jungkook’s embrace.

Jungkook’s back stiffened and he turned to me. “Why do you ask?” he said, something guarded in his eyes, something not quite trusting.

Wait…

Was he suspicious of me now?

I might’ve laughed if it wasn’t so alarming. I furrowed my brow and gestured toward the drinks. “You hate being hungover at work,” I said, recalling what felt like an ancient conversation between the two of us early in our relationship after a night of barbecue and shots.

His expression softened and he puffed out an uneasy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just…uh, felt like you were scolding me.”

I matched his laugh with one of my own before clearing my throat and grabbing for a can of beer, yanking it from the plastic. It was lukewarm, probably disgusting, and definitely a bad idea. But the evening had yielded no new information, and Jungkook wouldn’t let me out of his sight. No matter how much I scanned the apartment under his watchful eye, I couldn’t find anything that would help me figure out what was going on.

And besides, what if drinking loosened Jungkook up enough to spill something on accident?

I cracked it open and tipped the cool tin can against my lips, guiding the acrid beer down my throat with an unpleasant frown. I hissed as I finished my swig and winced a little. I’d almost forgotten how much I hated beer.

But it had been worth something at least. Because as I gingerly nursed my second sip of beer, Jungkook grabbed for a can of his own. Without thinking, I reached my drink out to touch the rim of his before locking eyes with him. Of course, he was infuriatingly handsome. Dark eyes with an innocently cocked brow, a smirk on his lips revealing perfect teeth, soft hair that bounced a little the two of us took a drink together.

But in that smirk, I knew he held secrets.

And it was time I started revealing them.

“On my life, I would!” called Seokjin from the floor, already plastered from the looks of it and from the volume of his voice.

Jungkook and I sat leaning against one another on the couch, laughing. “You would not pass up a date with Hyolyn just to be on Law of the Jungle!”

“You wouldn’t last!” I exclaimed in tandem.

Seokjin shook his head, eyes shut, stubborn and drunk as a skunk. And from the way Jungkook was leaning against my shoulder, he was pretty far gone himself. “I would do fine,” protested Jin with a nod, eyes still shut.

Jungkook took a moment to wipe beneath his eyes before turning to me with a dopey grin. “Alright, Y/N. Your turn,” he said.

Suddenly, Seokjin’s eyes were open and focused on me. He sat upright and looked at me seriously. “Y/N,” began Jin with a cough. “Would you rather find out who Vante is but lose your job, or never know who he really is but work for the Gallery forever?”

I stiffened, brows furrowed, and crossed my arms. It was a horribly pointed question, and I wasn’t drunk enough to take is innocent. “I’d rather never know,” I said with a decisive nod.

Jungkook went still beside me, but his eyes remained trained on my face. He seemed much soberer now, much more focused. “But doesn’t it make you crazy? Being so close to him but not knowing who he is?” he asked.

I blinked and edged away from Jungkook’s side, watching my lap. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason,” I said with a nod.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Jungkook, his tone revealing a longtime frustration. As if he was finally scratching the surface of an issue that had bothered him a long time. Out the corner of my eye, I saw him cross his arms.

“What if he’s really creepy?” asked Seokjin, eyeing me carefully from the rug.

I shook my head. “I trust him.”

“You’re naive.” I expected Jin to respond, but the words came from Jungkook who by then was staring into the middle distance as if I’d really upset him.

I scoffed and turned to him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but something in me was burning. “Vante has been nothing but kind and supportive to me, and he’s been a part of my life longer than you have,” I said with a sigh. I turned back to Seokjin. “Watch what you say,” I said, looking them both in the eye.

Before either of them could speak, my phone began buzzing in my pocket and I jumped. Nara’s name lit up my screen and without a moment’s hesitation, I unlocked it and pressed it to my ear.

“Y/N!” she called, audibly relieved.

I raised my brows. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s Hyun,” she whined into the receiver.

I sat upright and furrowed my brows. “Your dog?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“Yeah, he-,”

“Hold on,” I said, shaking my head.

I glanced around the room as Nara audibly shuffled on the other end. The air was no good in here, stagnant and awkward after my outburst. Not to mention the way both boys seemed to hang on my every word like they were hungering for more. I needed to get out of there, get some fresh air, clear my head. Restless, I stood to my feet and turned to Jungkook, gesturing with my hands to the front door. He feigned a smile and nodded as I shuffled out into the outdoor hallway, bracing the cold with a shiver.

Something wasn’t sitting right with me. If Seokjin was the one who asked the question about Vante to begin with, did that mean he was in on this too? And what about the alcohol?

Had it all been planned from the start?

“Sorry, I’m at Jungkook’s,” I said with a sigh, gripping the bridge of my nose as a headache began to take hold.

Nara was quiet for a moment. “How…is that going?”

“Not well.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, somber.

I shrugged, but I felt my posture go rigid. I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. Anyway, what about Hyun?”

She groaned. “Well I agreed to do a group workshop for the paper I’ve been talking about, but I realized I forgot to put food in Hyun’s bowl. I don’t know when I’ll be home and I’m at the library right now and I’m just kinda worried about-,”

“Nara,” I interrupted with a laugh. “Breathe.”

She inhaled and exhaled before coughing a little. Was she getting sick? “Sorry. Um…I know it’s shitty, but if you could just swing by my apartment and fill his bowl I’d owe you my life.”

I thought a moment, watching my knees as the buckled slightly in the chill. Vante wasn’t wrong when he chastised me for being a pushover. And with evidence still possibly lingering in Jungkook’s apartment, and a new accomplice to think about, I wasn’t sure I should be so hasty leaving. But the longer I stayed, the worse things became and I hadn’t found anything useful yet. What made me assume I’d find anything now?

And besides, it was Nara.

I sighed. “Yeah, uh I can be there in fifteen,” I said, glancing out into the blistery night.

“Ugh, you’re a life saver! Seriously,” she said, her voice going distant on the phone.

“Don’t mention it,” I said with a smile.

“Love you!”

“Love you too,” I said as the line disconnected.

I rubbed my arms and slid my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. My face was hot from drinking and my body felt exhausted after a week of work and classes. I wanted to find someplace to collapse and take a nap, but something told me that I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

I stretched my torso a little before walking back inside the apartment. But, to my surprise, there was no bickering between Jungkook and Jin, no witty banter, no pillows being thrown across coffee tables. Instead, there was just the steady drone of the TV and the absence of both boys. I scanned the kitchen, then the living room. Nothing.

Perhaps this was my opportunity…

“Newcomer Ori Technologies is hosting a charity banquet next month to celebrate their first year in operation, and it’s rumored many big names will be in attendance. To name a few-,” said the newscaster on the television as I quickly shut it off. Odd, I was certain we were watching MNet when I left the apartment.

Carefully, I crept around the room in search of something, anything, that might give me answers. But everything was as normal as it had always been: monochromatic paintings on the walls, potted plants sitting half-dead in the corners, pillows sitting slumped against the backs of the couches. There was nothing new to be seen here.

But in the silence, I could hear the dull, muffled back-and-forth of conversation. As silently as I could, I poked my head down the hallway and strained to listen. I could only make out faint words like Gallery and trying, but most of what was said was entirely unintelligible to me. I suspected Jungkook and Seokjin had stolen away down the hall to hide in the computer room. Jungkook took great pains to make that room soundproof so he could play games in peace, so their discussion had to be pretty loud if I could hear it.

An idea came to me that had my nerves jittering. Beside the computer room was a room I seldom entered. I’d only been in once, and it was under Jungkook’s supervision the first time I’d visited the apartment.

Seokjin’s room.

If he was indeed involved in this whole mystery, perhaps it was time to change my focus. Silently, I approached the door and slipped inside the chilly, pitch-black bedroom. I steeled myself with a deep breath, my forehead pressed against the door separating me from being caught. Who knew what would happen if they found me snooping around? Who knew if I had any reason to suspect Seokjin? I was certain that if they found me, I’d be cooked one way or another.

And if Jungkook disappeared, then I’d never know the truth.

Somehow, that unsettled me more than anything.

I nodded and summoned my courage to flick on the light. Suddenly, the darkness gave way to light grey wallpaper and collages of photos on bulletin boards. The room was sleek and clean, and the walls were decorated with sentimental pictures of Seokjin and people I didn’t recognize. A few photos featured Jungkook, but again they were surrounded by unknown faces. I scanned them for a moment before dropping my eyes to Seokjin’s work desk.

Atop the white lacquered wood was an expensive computer and not much else. I sucked in my breath and leaned down before it, running my fingers along the drawer. I couldn’t afford to waste much time, my ears hypersensitive to any noises coming from the hallway. I pried open the drawer and stared into it with wide, eager eyes.

Sitting at the bottom were several notebooks and one manila folder. The conversation from outside seemed to be quieting down, and my nerves were on fire. Without thinking, I yanked the manila folder out from inside and opened it on the floor beside Seokjin’s desk chair.

My heart skipped a beat.

Inside the folder were dozens of legal documents. I shook my head and fingered through them. They all seemed to be public records, transactions, contracts, things relating to business. Perplexed, I flipped to the final page in the thick pile.

And there it was.

Vante’s elegant, distinctive signature at the bottom of a document I didn’t recognize. And, right beside it, a name I could only vaguely place.

Kim Namjoon.

[lady-charinette]

In a Cage Part 2 - Marichat

In a Cage Part 2

 It was late afternoon by the time Marinette stood on her balcony, small cookie box in hand, “Have some on your way kitty.”

Chat Noir scratched the back of his neck, accepting the sweet gift, “Thank you Marinette!” there was a moment where he just looked at her, with soft green eyes and a warm smile, it almost reminded her that one time when Adrien- 

“R-right! Uh, have a safe trip to uh- home! I guess we…we’ll see each-other sometime!” Marinette grinned widely, inwardly panicking at her almost comparison between her crush and her good partner – crime fighting partner.

Chat Noir either didn’t notice her internal dilemma or was too focused looking at her, either way he chuckled and bowed like he usually did, “Thank you again for today, Marinette. I hope our paths will croissant again.” He winked and grinned boyishly, taking his baton out and waving at her with the hand holding the small but nicely wrapped cookie box.

A small smile came unbiddenly upon Marinette’s lips and she waved back, watching his form become smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Looks like Chat Noir really loved-“ 

Marinette jumped, surprised to hear her kwami’s voice suddenly, “W-who?!” she shrunk in on herself, like a cornered animal with wide panicked eyes. 

Tikki blinked down at her, a small knowing smile on her lips, “I was talking about the cookies.” The ancient goddess couldn’t help but giggle at the girl’s impulsiveness, outright laughing when Marinette’s ears and cheeks turned pinkish.

“T-Tikki!” 

After the kwami had her laugh, Marinette sighed, “A-anyway, let’s get back inside, because of Chat Noir I wasn’t able to finish homework.” Tikki’s back was turned to her charge, so Marinette couldn’t see the sly smirk on the kwami’s face. 

Or the quiet words whispered under her breath, “Since he was such a distraction…”  

“Tikki, did you say something?” Tikki was already inside while Marinette opened the hatch again.

“Nu-uh!” came the goddess’ cheeky reply.  

Marinette rose an eyebrow, certain she heard something from her kwami’s mouth, until she suddenly tripped on something invisible on the ground. Tikki, having heard her yelp, thought it was just Marinette’s clumsiness, she continued munching on the leftover cookies on the platter. 

Marinette’s eyes shot wide open, something scaly wrapping around her legs, something small was flickering by her feet but she couldn’t see what it was and then, an akuma stood before her. 

It was Kaleido. 

“Ti-!“ Marinette’s cry was abruptly cut off as the girl vanished in a flash of light and a small hand mirror dropped into Kaleido’s hand. 

She giggled, opening the small hand mirror and spotting the girl’s panicked face, fists hitting invisible walls within the mirror, “You naïve little girl, this is what you get for involving yourself with a superhero.” She frowned at Marinette’s angered expression and closed the mirror shut, “So unsightly, not pretty at all.” With that, she pocketed the item, grabbing her chameleon and jumping off the balcony. 

“Marinette?” Tikki dropped the half-eaten cookie back on the platter, no longer seeing Marinette’s form from her viewpoint in the window, “Marinette, are you alright?” Tikki worriedly flew back up the stairs and out into the balcony, her eyes flying wide open, “Marinette!” 

She looked left and right and flew quickly to the edge of the balcony, spotting the familiar mirror akuma they’d battled just today wandering off behind an alley, “Oh no! Marinette!” Tikki just caught herself in time, shaking her head vehemently before flying in the other direction. 

Towards Master Fu.

She zipped this way and that, phasing through buildings as shortcuts to the guardian, who, upon entering his home, was playing a game of shogi with Wayyz.  

“Master!” the old man’s wise gaze met Tikki’s with an arched brow. 

“Tikki, can this wait a moment? I’m certain I’ll win this time.” Wayyz just smiled and took a sip of his green tea, shaking his head. 

Tikki immediately flew in front of Master Fu’s face, “Marinette’s been kidnapped by an akuma!” 

Master Fu’s eyes widened in surprise, “What? Why didn’t you tell me this before? We have to contact Chat Noir.” Master Fu quickly reached for his phone, not noticing the exasperated look Tikki was giving him while Wayyz was shaking his head and patting her shoulder in understanding. 

Master Fu waited a few beats, the caller finally picking up, “Adrien! You have to get here as soon as possible! It’s an emergency!”  

Adrien’s surprised voice entered the old man’s ears, “Huh? Master Fu!? What emergency? Wait, where did you get my phone number-“ 

“That is of no importance! Marinette has been kidnapped by an akuma!” he shot the two kwami’s worried looks, who could only return them. 

Surprise turned to worry and seriousness, “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” 

Master Fu hung up, rubbing his chin worriedly, “Tikki, have you seen what akuma it was?” he already had a hunch, but he had to ask nonetheless. 

Tikki was flying around in circles, her big blue eyes shining with concern, “It was the same mirror akuma we fought today! But there was also a chameleon with her, Hawkmoth must be using Mayura’s help again!” 

Wayyz flew up to hover beside Tikki, “Master, if this is true, we will need to use the help of the other Miraculous to help save Marinette!” master and kwami’s gaze met, one imploring, the other thoughtful, until Master Fu made his decision with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“You’re right, Wayyz. It would be wise to call upon Rena Rouge and Carapace.” He moved to the Miraculous box, punching in the code as the slots started to open, just in time rushed footsteps thundered towards the closed door to the room. 

Tikki quickly flew behind the gramophone to hide, none other than Chat Noir slamming the door open, eyes wild and searching, “Master Fu!”  

The guardian turned around to address the young hero, “Calm down, Chat Noir. You’ll need to deliver the Miraculous to people you trust, Mayura is aiding Hawkmoth this time as well.”

Chat Noir’s eyes narrowed, “Where is Ladybug? She should be here by now! Who knows what the akuma may have done to Marinette.” His fists clenched, his baton shaking slightly within his enclosed hand. 

Master Fu and Wayyz shared a look, “Ladybug is unavailable as of this moment, which is why you’ll need the help of other heroes to deal with the akuma if you want to save your friend.” 

Something changed in Chat Noir, perhaps it was the straightening of his shoulders, or the sharpened look in his eyes, but he resolutely headed for the door, “No. I’ll deal with this akuma myself.”  

Alarm bells already rang within the old guardian’s head, “Chat Noir, wait! Hawkmoth is not alone, you cannot possibly defeat the akuma on your own with Mayura’s powers making him stronger!” 

The blond turned his head, fingers gripping the doorknob tightly, “I’m sorry Master Fu, but this is my fight. Akumatizing a person is one thing, but kidnapping Marinette is personal.” His gaze darkened, “I’ll bring her back safe and sound.” With that, his form disappeared behind the door, a bell chime the only indicator of how fast he rushed out the front door.

Master Fu gripped his forehead, sitting down on the small cushion on the floor, “What shall we do Master? He can’t possibly defeat the akuma without help!” Wayyz’s gaze shifted worriedly to the door where Chat Noir ran out of. 

Tikki flew away from her hiding spot, an angry look about her, “That stupid cat, Plagg! His charges have always been reckless, but this one is young and reckless!” 

Master Fu sighed heavily, looking at the fox and bee Miraculous, “Protective, I would say.” 

Wayyz watched the way his own charge’s gaze wandered to the old photo of him and Marianne, the black and white photo looked well worn, but it was as precious to his master as the day it was taken.

Chat Noir leapt from roof to roof, running along the sides of the buildings, scaling up lamp posts to look out for a rampaging akuma. 

Where were the panicked shouts of the citizens? Why weren’t there no akuma alarms? 

Chat Noir was heading toward the park near Dupont before a small swarm of butterflies suddenly flew up in front of him, morphing into the shape of Hawkmoth’s mask, “Hello Chat Noir.” 

Chat Noir’s staff was pointed threateningly at the butterflies, ears drawn back in anger, “Hawkmoth! Tell me where Marinette is!” 

A dark chuckle rang out from the mask, “Ah, yes the girl. Let’s make a deal Chat Noir, in exchange for getting the girl safe and sound returned to you, you’ll give me your Miraculous and Ladybug’s!” 

Chat Noir growled, “Let’s make another deal, Hawkmoth, let Marinette go and I won’t beat up your akuma too much!” 

Another dark chuckle, “How amusing, it seems a mere girl is more important to Paris’ superhero than fulfilling his duty as protector of this city!” 

Chat Noir jumped, his staff cleanly hitting the center of the butterflies and Hawkmoth’s mask disappeared, the dark butterflies flying around haphazardly, “I haven’t noticed your akuma attacking anybody right now, so saving Marinette is my duty to fulfill! Now tell me where she is!” 

Hawkmoth made a disgruntled noise from the swarming butterflies, “I see, I’ll need to take your Miraculous first before I can get Ladybug’s! If you want to try and save your precious Marinette, return to the place you’ve met your match in the past and give up your Miraculous!”

The swarm of butterflies flew away, Chat Noir glaring after them with Hawkmoth’s laughter still echoing annoyingly in his head.  

“Met my match? What did he mean?” Chat Noir paced the pavement until he stopped short in realization, “Copycat!”

He knew where he had to go.

Marinette hit the invisible wall as hard as she could, her fists throbbing in pain from trying to escape her glass prison. 

Kaleido’s obnoxious voice was all around her, “It’s useless, you foolish girl! Nobody can escape from my mirror prison unless I let them out!” she laughed and Marinette cringed at the loudness of the voice in the vacant space she was trapped in. 

She didn’t have anything here, just mirrors, all reflecting her own reflection back at herself from all angles, nothing she could use to get out of her situation, “If only I had brought Tikki with me!” she cursed her luck, walking toward a standing mirror and sliding down to sit on the floor, trying to think of ways how to escape, “I don’t know why I got kidnapped, but no doubt Chat Noir is waiting for Ladybug to show up and deal with the akuma. He can’t possibly find us here, why didn’t Hawkmoth let her be out in the open? Why in this place again?” she remembered this place vaguely, it was the same warehouse where Chat Noir had been kidnapped by Copycat. 

Marinette sighed, “How ironic. We both got kidnapped in the same place.” She glanced at the mirrors, mildly unsettled by her own gaze staring back at her, “…Does Hawkmoth intend to lure Chat Noir here? But how? He has no way of knowing where the akuma is or that I even got kidnapped! Wait…could he…? Did Hawkmoth possibly figure out that…that I’m Ladybug? But he didn’t ask me for my Miraculous yet and Kaleido doesn’t seem to know anything either….so why was I kidnapped?” Marinette frowned, despair and helplessness finally getting the better of her.

She held her face in her hands, catching sight of her anguished face staring back at her from the mirror beneath her. 

A memory flashed before her mind’s eye, the time she wanted to quit using the Miraculous, quit being Ladybug. The time where Alya nearly got hurt because of an akuma attack. She frowned and clenched her hands, a burst of white-hot rage and determination filling her chest as she jumped to her feet and walked over to the small window-like shape she could look out of, “Hey! Hey, you!” she shouted at Kaleido, who finally turned around, “Why are you listening to Hawkmoth? I’m sure your problem can be solved without kidnapping innocent people!”  

Kaleido blinked questioningly, her eyes, one which itself seemed like a small mirror, “You don’t understand, you’re just a little girl.” 

Marinette’s fists were shaking beside her hips but she willed her voice to remain calm, “Try me.” 

The akumatized woman scoffed, crossing her arms, “As if someone like you could understand the pain of losing something precious. The mirror that was shattered before my eyes had been in my family for generations, it represented my family’s gift of overcoming any obstacle, just like the mirror survived all sorts of things while it had been in our possession and now it’s broken.” Marinette could hear the pain in the older woman’s voice, until the butterfly mask appeared over her face again. 

“Kaleido! Prepare yourself! Chat Noir should be coming any moment now!” Hawkmoth’s irritated voice echoed in her head again and Kaleido groaned in frustration.

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

Chat Noir carefully crawled behind stacked-up boxes, peering over the rim of one at Kaleido and the hand mirror on the table by her side, seeing Marinette’s tiny form trapped within.

His eyes narrowed and he clenched his fist in anger, “How dare they kidnap Marinette!” Chat Noir reached for his baton until his ears picked up a noise behind him. 

Immediately, he fell into a crouch, rolling over the floor but spotting nothing. 

Then, a long tongue shot out from seemingly nowhere, nearly striking him if it weren’t for his good reflexes, “What in the-! There’s nothing there! What was that!”

He felt something wet and warm wrap around his ankle, hauling him into the air and throwing him into the open center where he remembered getting chained to the ground with his confrontation with Copycat. 

Thinking on his feet, Chat Noir quickly moved out of reach of Kaleido, stepping on the same warm and wet thing that had throwing him into the air. 

He looked behind him, spotting flickering shapes and colors, “No! My pet!” Kaleido adjusted the large mirror and reflected the slivers of light peering into the warehouse back at Chat’s face, nearly blinding him.

He stumbled, crouching low to regain his footing and sight, spotting just what had been harassing him this whole time.

It was walking toward Kaleido, the large chameleon’s colors were changing, switching between the lighter shades of the mirrors and the darker background of the boxes behind it. 

“It’s you again!” Chat Noir glared at the akuma, eyes zeroing in on Marinette, “Marinette!”  

Marinette’s head shot up at the sound of her name, at the sound of Chat Noir’s voice, “Kitty! In here!” she waved, waves of relief washing over her at spotting him. 

He was here. He was here to save her. 

Chat Noir broke his baton in half, elongating it and spinning the two halves in both his hands, “Just stay put princess! You have a look around while I’ll see to it that I defeat your captor!”

Marinette rolled her eyes at his dramatics but frowned in worry as Kaleido herself advanced upon him, with Chat Noir already charging. 

His baton bounced off of her mirror dress, the light impairing his vision as her chameleon kept trying to trip and distract Chat Noir while Kaleido tried grabbing him and take away his Miraculous. 

This wasn’t good, Chat Noir couldn’t handle two akuma alone, he needed help. Why didn’t  Master Fu send for the other heroes?  

Marinette looked around again, surrounded by her mirrors as she was, growing frustrated at her sheer helplessness while her partner was in a tight spot. 

In a fit of rage, Marinette beat her fist upon one of the standing mirror, causing a miniature crack on it’s otherwise pristine surface. 

“Ah!” her eyes widened at the yelp of pain and she whirled around, spotting Kaleido clutching at her chest. 

Did she just-? 

Marinette looked back at the mirrors, “Is this…her heart? The mirrors that reflected her?” Marinette remembered the one eye the woman had made of glass, “The eyes…the eyes are the window to one’s soul…” she looked back at the mirror before her and shouted out as loud as she could, “Chat Noir!” 

Her kitty was flipping over the chameleon while deflecting shards of glass thrown at him at the same time, “I’m…” he kicked away another shard aimed at his face,”-kinda…” Chat Noir sidestepped chameleon’s tongue again, “-busy, princess!” 

“Chat Noir! You have to break the hand mirror!” Marinette could see the panic and disapproval instantly on his face. 

“Not before I get you out of it princess!” 

Marinette shook her head, “Break it now Chat Noir, trust me!” 

Kaleido immediately moved in front of the hand mirror protectively, “No! I won’t allow you to break another one of my family heirlooms!”

Chat Noir frowned, watching chameleon warily circling him, “If I break the mirror while you’re in it, who knows what will happen! I’ll get you out of there first!” Chat Noir charged again, jumping on the wall to gain momentum and slammed his staff onto Kaleido’s mirror, the staff bouncing off it’s steel-like surface. 

Marinette stomped her foot, “We don’t have time Chat Noir! You have to break it now! Use Cataclysm! Trust me kitty!” 

Despite the distance, their gazes met once Kaleido moved, an unspoken agreement passing between them.

Chat Noir steeled himself, “Cataclysm!” calling upon his power, Chat Noir threw his baton at the chameleon’s head, striking the lizard directly on his head, dazing him momentarily. It allowed him room to finally move freely, running on all fours straight towards an angry Kaleido. 

“How dare you, you mangy cat!” she moved her hands over her mirrors, trying to hit Chat Noir’s eyes with the reflected light, but he cleverly used his messy hair to block out most of the sun, pupils dilating and zeroing in on the handmirror and Marinette’s reassuring smile.

Trust me, kitty.

Chat Noir jumped, right over Kaleido’s head, landing on top of the table, “Hey!” Kaleido turned, agitated, “Mirror, mirror on the wall-“ Chat Noir lifted his hand with Cataclysm active, “Who’s the prettiest of them all?” his gaze caught Marinette’s and he destroyed the mirror into millions of pieces on the ground.  

Almost immediately, Kaleido fell to the ground in pain, clutching at her chest, “NO!”

The dark butterfly flew out of the broken mirror and Chat Noir quickly captured it in his hands, wondering where on earth Ladybug was to purify it. 

Just then, a green blur flew past straight towards him, “Chat Noir!” 

“Wha- Wayyz? What are you doing here?” Chat Noir looked down at the mirror, worrying where Marinette was. Shouldn’t she have come out of the mirror? Did she trap her in it forever now that it was broken? 

The wise kwami smiled, indicating at Chat Noir’s clasped hands, “I believe you have something for me.”

The cat blinked at him, dumbstruck, “…Huh?”

Wayyz shook his head, “The akuma! Release it!” why were people giving him such weird orders lately?

“But-“

“Trust me!” 

Chat Noir frowned, hesitantly opening his hands, watching the dark insect flying out of it, heading for the crack in the ceiling. His panic grew the closer it got, but Wayyz suddenly sailed in the air and swallowed it whole in his mouth, holding it in his mouse before releasing a pure white butterfly with a wave of light, similar to Lucky Charm, washing over the warehouse. 

The small hand mirror was repaired, the woman freed from Hawkmoth’s control, kneeling on the ground, gingerly holding the object in her hands. 

“Wait, where is Mari- woah!” a sudden weight crashed on his back, knocking the air clean out of him. 

“Ouch!” a yelp on top of him made his entire body freeze. 

“Marinette!” the poor girl was knocked over from her secret partner excitedly righting himself, pulling her along straight into his arms in a tight hug. 

“C-Chat Noir?” she blinked, clutching at his back. What happened? One minute she was in the mirror, surrounded in darkness when Chat Noir destroyed it, then a white light flashed and she was being hugged by Chat Noir? 

Marinette sighed, letting some of her weight fall against Chat Noir, who easily supported her, “Thank you for saving me kitty.” She patted his back appreciatively, hearing and feeling the distinctive purring sound.   

She giggled. 

Chat Noir nuzzled against the side of her head, “I couldn’t have done it without your quick thinking princess.” His grip around her tightened, “Just please don’t get captured by akumas again.” Marinette smiled, hearing the worry seeping in his tone. 

They broke apart, smiling at each-other, before Marinette moved toward the silent woman still kneeling on the ground, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry for kidnapping you, I swear I didn’t mean to.”

Marinette shook her head, “Don’t worry, I believe you. Hawkmoth was controlling you, it wasn’t your fault.” Her gaze moved towards the mirror the woman held in her hands, “Is… this also a family heirloom?” she remembered how protective the woman had been of it. 

The older female nodded, stroking the glassy surface of the mirror with a finger, “Yes, it’s from my father, he used to craft mirrors before he died. This was a gift from him.”  

Marinette nodded, giving the woman a tender smile, “I’m sorry for your loss about the bigger mirror, but at least you have this one whole. I think it’s an opportunity to start over while keeping the things you cherish still close to your heart. I understand that the mirror was important, but just because it shattered doesn’t mean you yourself have to. Jut like the mirror, you may have a few cracks, but they can be mended.” Marinette gestured toward the small mirror, “Despite everything, you still have this, see it as something hopeful. Something where you can start over.” 

The woman smiled, giving Marinette’s hand a brief squeeze in thanks, “Thank you young lady, you made me remember something important about myself today. I’m glad you have such a dedicated boyfriend who saved you.” Her gaze wandered over to Chat Noir, “Thank you too for saving me Chat Noir.”   

Chat Noir nodded, grinning, “Don’t mention it!” 

Meanwhile, Marinette was frozen, “….Boyfriend? Chat Noir? Was she talking about Chat Noir?” before Marinette could respond, Chat Noir’s hand was on her shoulder pulling her up. 

“Let’s get you back home princess.” Chat Noir wrapped an arm around Marinette’s back and under her legs, gripping onto his staff while holding her legs up, “Will you be alright miss?” 

The woman smiled and nodded, “Yes, thank you. 

Chat Noir nodded, eyes searching in the room for Wayyz, “Wa-“ wait…where did he go?! Did he already return to Master Fu?

“Something wrong, kitty?” Marinette rose an eyebrow, keeping a firm grip on Chat Noir’s neck. 

“Not at all princess!” Chat grinned, relief washing over him again as they finally walked out of the stuffy warehouse, “I’m…just glad you’re safe, Marinette.” He shot her a genuine smile and Marinette had to think back on the woman’s words. 

Boyfriend. 

Marinette shook her head stubbornly, trying to think of Adrien and not how warm Chat Noir felt as he carried her over the rooftops of Paris back towards her home.

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

“No! Not again!” Hawkmoth paced his lair, Mayura sighing behind him, “Why?! How did Chat Noir defeat both my akuma and your guardian?!” 

Mayura coughed into her hand, trying to still the coughs wrecking her body, “It is peculiar, especially without Ladybug’s help. However, perhaps it was the fact we kidnapped his… associate that his determination to save her grew?” 

Hawkmoth stopped his pacing, meeting Mayura’s gaze, “…His determination…” he clenched his fist, eyes alight with dark intent, “My determination is greater! I shall get my hands on Chat Noir’s and Ladybug’s Miraculous sooner than they think! Then, we will see who is victorious in the end.” Hawkmoth chuckled while Mayura felt sadness swell within her chest. 

Bonus:

Chat Noir waved at Marinette, feeling calm now that he knew she was safe again.

He hoped  Wayyz was alright, he had no idea kwamis could purify akumas by swallowing and then spitting them out? He wondered if Plagg could do that too?

He would probably try to eat them or not even think of it if they weren’t made of cheese.

Chat Noir laughed, until a sudden thought hit him.

Master Fu was the one that called him to save Marinette.

There was no akuma alarm so the citizens weren’t even aware that Hawkmoth had attacked twice today.

How had master Fu known?

...How did he know Marinette?

Thank you very much for reading! :) Hope you enjoyed!