#since if she pretends to blend in it's all the more surprising to opponents when she finally shows off her power and destroys them

[void-kissed]

My selfship with Aqua is about finding someone worth fitting in with and my selfship with Clio is about finding someone you don't have to fit in around

And yes I will elaborate (or try to, anyway)

[avatarmerida]

If She Happens To Fall

Inspired by this absolutely adorable art by @soldrawss I’m totally obsessed it’s so cute. Here’s a very fluffy post flyer derby practice Huntlow.

———

“So Gus thinks that making illusions of the other team will give us an advantage, but I just can’t see how,” said Willow as she, Gus, and Hunter walked down the path toward her house. Hunter had donned a new civilian disguise: a yellow hoodie paired with a simple red flannel and pants with holes in the knees to truly sell that he was an average clumsy youth. It was perfect for him to blend in as he slipped out of patrol for a few hours to watch his friends practice.

It was nothing special, he would just walk home before slipping back into his duties, but this was the part he looked forward to the most. He liked seeing his friends in clothes that weren’t school or derby uniforms, like it was other clue to who they were. For some reason, he really liked that the Captain always wore something green, it was easy to see why she wanted it to be the team’s signature color. She was wearing a simple green top that matched her eyes and a long pastel green shawl that resembled a field of clover. He imagined how they looked from an outsider’s perspective: just three normal friends walking home from school.

“If I got the mannerisms just right it would be a good technique for getting the flag,” insisted Gus with gusto, clearly this was an ongoing discussion between the two. “They’d hand their flags instantly!”

“Yeah, but I feel like everyone would just take on their illusion counterpart instead of trusting the others,” said Willow. “Unless we were disguised as them but then it would confuse us too.”

“He could pull it off,” said Hunter proudly. Gus beamed at Hunter’s compliment, pointing to him with great exaggeration as though his agreement was the final step in convincing Willow. “It’d be a great match to watch.”

“Your illusions have been fun to scrimmage against,” added Willow thoughtfully. “I’ll add to the list of things to try out.” Gus punched his fist in the air victoriously.

“So practices have been going well I take it?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Willow. “As well as they can be, seeing as we lost our best flyer.” She said, gently nudging. Hunter’s side. He blushed (faintly, he hoped).

“The second Gus thinks he can rig an illusion to take my place as Golden Guard, you know I’m back,” laughed Hunter. He noticed he has been laughing more since he met them, he also noticed how his laugh had changed. Before he only laughed by himself when he was boosting, but now it warmed his whole chest.

“And that’s ‘second best flyer,’ thank you very much!”said Gus, pretending to be offended and they all laughed together.

“Oh! Speaking of that, one of my favorite elite players did this really cool thing during their last match-you gotta see it!” Willow exclaimed, stopping to get her scroll out of her gym bag to show them the video. Hunter leaned down to see better as she held it up and she pressed on his shoulder to bring him closer and pressed their faces together so they could both see. Gus watched contently from Willow’s other side, not upset he wouldn’t se the screen since watching the park of then watch had more potential. In the video, the player stood on her staff, jumped up to grab an flag from her opponent before doing a twirl and landing back on her staff without missing a beat. Willow beamed at their grace, jumping up and down excitedly as she replayed it.

“Excellent form, I definitely think you could pull it off,” commented Hunter, focusing on the video rather than their closeness.

“I really want to!” Willow said, putting her scroll away. “I’m just not as good standing up on my staff, I lose balance pretty quick without using my vines but they would ruin the element of surprise.”

“That’s like Gus’ signature move, why doesn’t he teach you?” Hunter asked, looking at him.

“I don’t so much ‘teach’ as much as I ‘do,’” said Gus, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry, but this level of cool doesn’t come with an instruction manual.”

Willow rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Scared I’ll steal your signature move, Mr. Cool?” She teased, putting her arm around his neck. “I’m close to figuring it out, you better look out Porter!”

The trio laughed, Hunter especially as he watched his friend exchange playful shoves. He was still getting used to compliments being sincere and admitting faults not being linked to shame. “You just need a trick to find balance,” said Hunter. “I can help you practice; if you had a spotter you can master that move in no time!”

“Really?” Willow asked, turning to him with eyes wide and latching onto his arm.

“Yeah, well that’s how I learned,” continued Hunter, his eyes darting between Willow’s engaged stare and Gus’ knowing one. “Of course, I had some of the best flying instructors on the Isles. But if I taught you, you’d have the best.”

“Smooth,” Gus whispered under his breath.

“You’d really wanna help me?” Willow asked.

“Yeah,” replied Hunter as nonchalantly as he could. “Do... you wanna try right now?”

“Right now?” Willow repeated, excited at the idea.

“Yeah if that’s okay, um,” suddenly he was stumped, not by her question but by the look in her eyes that made him feel frozen and warm at the same time. “But you already changed outta your uniform, are you sure?”

“Yes please!” She exclaimed, turning on her heel to run back to the field. A small smile tugged the side of Hunter’s face as he watched her bolt away in excitement.

“You coming Gus?” Hunter asked, eager to follow her.

“You sure you don’t want to be alone with Willow?” Gus asked smugly.

“What? I never said that,” said Hunter nervously. “I mean, I didn’t not say that. I don’t mind being alone with the Captain, but I guess it’s not really alone if there’s more than one person, but if you want-.”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” said Gus, putting up his hand to stop Hunter. “I know when I’m being a third wheel.”

“What’s wrong with being a third wheel?” Hunter asked, becoming more confused by the second. “That’s a more effective and safe way of transportation!”

“Hunter! C’mon!” Willow called from the field, waving him over. Hunter waved back with enthusiasm and as much as Gus wanted to see how this would play out, he felt it was best if this was a private lesson.

“You know I don’t reveal my secrets,” he said, patting his friend on the back. “Besides, I have a ton of homework to get to. You guys will have fun!”

“Yeah, It’s just sometimes... I don’t know what to say to the Captain,” he admitted with a sigh. “I mean, I know what to say, we have plenty to talk about but sometimes... when I look at her, my mind just goes blank. Like right in the middle of a sentence, I’ll just lose focus or I’ll focus too much-.”

Gus shook his head and laughed, slinging his bag over his shoulder and placing a supportive hand on Hunter’s shoulder, looking up at the older boy with sincerity. “Well, actions speak louder than words,” Gus said, as he continued walking, offering his friend a supportive look. “Just... catch her if she happens to fall, okay?”

Hunter nodded, treating Gus’ teasing words as a sacred mission. He knew how important flyer derby was to Willow and he did not take her trust lightly.

-

Flapjack took his staff form and Hunter flew up to the center where Willow was waiting for him. She offered him a soft smile as he took a place beside her, Gus’ words echoing in his mind.

“Hmm, maybe we should start closer to the ground first,” wondered Hunter aloud. “Just to be safe.”

“Pff, I’m not a baby Hunter, I know how to fly,” Willow laughed, flying in a circle around him.

“Right, of course, I wasn’t saying you were haha,” Hunter laughed nervously. “I would never say that. Never think that! No, uh... the first step is proper footing.” He snapped himself back into focus, summoning his Golden Guard persona to appear authoritative.

Willow looked down. “Well, I’m not wearing my normal flyer derby shoes but these should be fine,” she shrugged, her white loafers didn’t have the best grip but this should be okay. In one graceful leap, she rose to her feet like she was on a balance beam, putting her arms out to the sides to balance her. “Woah,” she said, moving her arms in circles to balance herself when she started to tip to one side.

“Careful,” Hunter said instinctively, moving over to take her hand to steady her. She laughed as she shifted her weight so her feet had proper grip on the staff. When she did it quick, it was easy and she didn’t have to think about it. But going slow step by step and having too much time to think made her aware of the importance of each movement. “Let’s take it slow,” he said as he flew beside her to guide her.

“Bend your knees, but not too much,” advised Hunter, his eyes locked on her while her’s were locked straight ahead. “The flag pole is a great place to spot since it’s where you’re going anyway. Pretty soon it’ll be second nature.”

They flew from one end of the field with great success, Willow squeezing Hunter’s hand the entire time.

“How do you make this look so easy?” Willow asked with a smile. The setting sun gracing her shoulders, covering her in soft shades of orange and pink, the warm colors made the vibrant green of her eyes pop.

“Years of practice and falling,” he laughed, hoping the warm colors of the sunset hid the flush of his face. “But you’re doing great, you’re already a natural!”

“Promise you won’t let me fall?” Somehow he knew she wasn’t really worried, despite her question he knew that she trusted him and her faith in him made him even more determined.

“I promise,” he said, holding her hand tighter. She really was a natural and probably could have mastered the move with help in a few minutes but he wasn’t complaining about spending more time with the Captain. “I got you. I would never let you fall, Captain.”

Her eyes shifted over to him, the sincerity of his voice made her feel like she was melting. The way he said it like that it felt bigger somehow, then again the way Hunter said a lot of things made them feel bigger for some reason. When he called her ‘Captain’ it felt like more than her position in a club, it felt like a purpose. If she teetered he’d hold her hand tighter, but never tight enough to hurt her. His glove was dense and worn but she could still feel that his hands were firm and calloused. Rough but somehow gentle, they were a perfect symbol of him. He was thankful for them now more than ever so she couldn’t feel how sweaty his hand was.

“Hey, eyes forward!” Hunter instructed in a tone both strict and ruffled when he caught her eyes on him. She quickly turned her head back, her heart racing for some reason.

“Sorry coach,” she said playfully and he mumbled something in response she couldn’t quite hear. Her eyes would dart back to him, sneaking glances to see if he’d notice and scold her again. Hoping he’d notice.

Their eyes would meet for a moment and it became a silent game of who would acknowledge it first and look away. She knew if she stole a look at him long enough he would have to say something, but he called her bluff and she looked back ahead not wanting them to crash due to her being distracted. But she could immediately feel his eyes on her and knew if she looked back her knees would turn to jelly and she’d lose her balance and not have the words to explain why.

“Wanna try going faster?” He asked eventually, she was certain he’d noticed her looks and was trying to change the silent subject.

She nodded. “Let’s do it,” she said. When they reached the end of the field, they built momentum and flew at a faster speed Willow focusing on her balance. The wind blew threw her braids and Hunter heard music play as though they were wind chimes. Once they made their way across the field a few times at a decent speed, Hunter could tell Willow was ready to try it by herself.

“Okay, this time I’m gonna let go,” he said, a part of him dreading the idea. “And you try standing by yourself. I’ll be right across to catch you if you fall.”

“I can just summon a flower or a bush to catch me if I fall,” said Willow with a small giggle, positioning her feet. “You don’t have to catch me.”

“Oh! Yeah, r-right, of course not!” Hunter sputtered, letting go of her hand. That hot/cold feeling was back. “You don’t need me to catch you, that’s dumb. I’m dumb.”

“You’re not dumb, you’re sweet,” assured Willow. “But hopefully your excellent coaching pays off and I won’t fall at all. Now, go over there and watch!”

Hunter nodded. You’re not dumb, you’re sweet, echoed in his mind. He had never been called sweet before.

Willow crouched down and quickly leapt to her feet, focused and balanced like they had practiced. She had control of her staff and bent her knees at the perfect angle to prepare her jump. She leapt in the air, twirling the way her favorite player had done and landed back down as though tied with a string. Hunter watched with pride, the scene seemed to play out for him in slow motion.

“Captain, that was perfect!” Hunter gushed, teleporting over to her excitedly. “You executed it perfectly! You looked beautiful!”

This was the kind of thing he would impulsively say and then overthink and try to cover up, but there no other way to describe it. Hunter was too proud of her progress to be flustered by his own words.

Willow on the other hand...

“Really? Thanks, you too,” she said, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. “I mean, uh, you explained it beautifully. So, good job. Heh. Now I just have to do it 20 more times before I have it mastered.”

“Then you can try it backwards,” said Hunter.

“Yeah,” agreed Willow with a laugh. “I think I need to work on the jump though. Did it look okay? It felt off balanced.”

“It looked fine,” said Hunter. “But if I recall, the player from the match you showed us had both their feet leave the staff at the same time when they jumped.”

“Hmm,” murmured Willow, looking down to try and figure out how to do that.

“I think I figured it out,” said a Hunter, connecting dots in his head, pulling up beside her as he rose to his feet thinking of how to explain his vision. “You don’t want to lean too far forward otherwise you’d get more distance than height. I think I can help you. Uh, may I?”

He asked and Willow saw he was asking for permission to stand on her staff. She nodded and extended her hand out to him to pull him over. Hunter took both of her hands and raised her arms to the sides. “Okay let’s try moving and use that momentum to propel yourself up,” he continued to instruct. “I’ll try and guide your arms to the wind flow until we find the right angle.”

She ushered her staff forward and they flew together and she leapt into the air using his hands as a guide. She had nearly forgotten she was supposed to be practicing when flying like this seemed more like... dancing. Willow soon realized that she didn’t need Hunter to help her balance but she kept that to herself, enjoying falling back to him too much. After a few attempts with constant encouragement from Hunter, he told her to try to spin again.

They picked up speed to simulate a real match and Willow basically launched herself into the air, pretending to grab a flag and turned herself around. She overshot it and did an extra spin so when she landed she landed backward to face Hunter, grinning from ear to ear.

“N-nice job,” he said with a small smile, captivated by the pride in her face.

“Thanks!” Willow said, lunging forward to wrap him in a quick but firm hug. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

“Heh, nah you probably could’ve,” muttered Hunter modestly as she released him. “Your form already looked great. I mean you’ve always been pretty... great! At flying! Pretty great at flying!”

Willow giggled. “Let’s just hope I’ll look as good doing it in an actual match,” she said. “It was really sweet of you to help me.”

Sweet, he thought, there’s that word again. His whole life, no one had ever called him sweet before ,(most people who knew him consider him quite the opposite) and here she had done it twice in one day.

“Well, as co-founder of the Emerald Entrails, it’s my duty to ensure all players reach their true potential to ensure victory,” he said sounding as though he was doing an impression of himself.

“Co-founder?” Willow repeated, crossing her arms as she looked up at him with an unconvinced smirk.

“I mean, I did name the team,” Hunter reminded her, mimicking her form. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“More like I let you name team,” she countered, stepping even closer to him, her hands in fists on her hip trying to look intimidating.

It worked.

In a real argument, he’d stand taller and speak louder but instead he wanted to be at her eye level and speak slower and quieter. He noticed they were standing much closer together now, and he suddenly felt off balanced. He was hyper aware of it, feeling as though his soul had re entered his body his body and he was just entering the situation from the outside. He leaned back to correct their distance and ended up stepping too far back and finding only air as he tumbled off the end of Willow’s staff before he could prepare a flirty retort .

He didn’t have time to be afraid or worried because he was busy feeling more embarrassed than he ever had before in his entire life. He knew that Willow would probably summon a flower bed for him to comfortably land in. But he couldn’t believe that after all the boosting he did and trials he endured and literal people trying to push him off, the thing that knocked him off his staff was a gentle smile.

Before Hunter could fully wish for the sweet embrace of death, he was met by a different embrace grabbing him effortlessly out of the air. Willow, still standing on her staff like he had taught her, held onto him as though dipping him in a dance before helping him into his feet behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders as she looked back at him with a playful smirk that made him feel like he was about to start spiraling again.

“You’re not the one whose supposed to be falling,” she laughed, making her way back toward the ground.

“Just needed to test your reflexes,” he managed to joke as he fought the instinct to be distracted by the sunset finding her face again.

“I should expect nothing less,” she teased as they made their way back to the ground. “How kind of my fellow co-founder.”

Now he was sweet and kind?

“It’s one of many services I offer,” he said as returned to his former character of confidence, internally screaming at the fact that she could consider him a co-founder of something she loved so much, even as a potential joke. When they returned to the grass, he stepped off the staff first and offered her his arm with flourish to heighten the bit.

“Oh, why thank you,” said Willow playing along and reaching to take it. Just as she stepped forward, a rock she didn’t know was there caused her to lose balance and knocked her forward. It was a small stumble, but Hunter reacted instantly and caught her, though there’d be no real consequence if he didn’t. She looked up at him and saw the sunset had moved into his face now, the pinks making the deep maroon of his eyes shine and grow. They looked soft and deep like quicksand.

“Oh Captain, Captain, Captain,” he said shaking his head with faux disapproval once he assured himself it was merely a stumble. “Do you need a refresher lesson on balance?”

She rolled her eyes and gently tapped his shoulder, strolling over to pick up her bag. He exhaled with content, finding comfort that they could be casual. Even when he was tense around, it wasn’t a bad feeling. He was glad his fumble hadn’t sullied her opinion of him and he was glad her fumble allowed him to redeem himself (even if he didn’t need to).

“Whatever,” she scoffed playfully, tucking some lose hairs behind her ears as she started the head back to the path so he could finish walking her home. “But you fell first; remember that.”

[sehunniepotwrites]

if we were a movie | j.jh

for @nctsworld’s first writing challenge

SYNOPSIS. For someone who was always the understudy and never the lead, scoring this role was huge for you. All you had to do was pretend to be in love with your best friend. No big deal, right? Wrong. It was the biggest deal because, for the past four years, you had been hiding your feelings for Jung Jaehyun.

If this were a movie, he would be your perfect match and the story would end happily with the credits rolling to a perfectly timed soundtrack. Too bad this wasn’t a movie— this was real life and life came with complications.

GENRE. childhood friends to lovers!au, college!au, drama school!au, slow burn, angst, humor, mutual pining, fluff (loosely based on the Filipino rom-com Must Be Love and If We Were a Movie by Hannah Montana) PAIRING. theatre major!Jaehyun x  theatre major!reader WORD COUNT. 14+ k

WARNINGS. point of view switches from first (”I”) to second (”you”); self-doubt, insecurities, mutual pining, cursing, lots of references and direct quotes from musicals such as Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, Disney’s Newsies, Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, Shrek the Musical, and Wicked (edited but i might’ve missed some mistakes; bare with me!)

There are moments where time flows as normal, where people carry on with their days as they usually do. Then, there are moments people experience in slow-motion, where the world just stops spinning and all the background noise just fades away. These are the moments people look forward to. They’re the breathtaking ones, the ones that capture your heart and soul. After those moments, people are never the same. 

The first time I experienced something in slow motion was when I made my stage debut at a small talent show. There was thunderous applause after my performance and while my heart thumped against my chest, the world seemed to come to a stop. That’s when I knew my heart belonged to the stage or rather, the stage belonged to me. 

Some of these slo-mo moments are the ones where people fall in love. 

My father said that’s how he knew my mother was the one for him: he experienced it all at a slowed rate, everything fading into black and she was the only thing he saw. She was his brightest star and he was the one who reached for the sky to bring her down to Earth. 

When I was younger, I always dreamed about my “falling in love” slow-mo moment. I pictured a grandiose event with large actions and sweet words.  For it to actually happen at theatre camp during the initial dress rehearsal for Disney’s Beauty and the Beast J.R.— well, that was far from what I hoped for. 

And yet, it was just as special as I thought it would be. 

I was in my obnoxious fork costume, waiting for my best friend to leave the boy’s dressing room. 

Jung Jaehyun had been my best friend since the beginning, otherwise known as my first year at theatre camp. Only ten years old at the time, we both were cast as two of the three blind mice in Shrek the Musical and had been inseparable ever since. Although we attended different middle schools, our friendship grew from our shared vocal and dance lessons as well as our summers at camp. You know how it is; those who end up in the ensemble together stay together. 

Going over the dance moves in my head, I didn’t hear my friend’s voice calling my name. He gripped my shoulder, the action surprising me to the point where I lost my balance. I yelped and shut my eyes, expecting to fall onto the hard ground but a hand grabbing onto my wrist prevented my doom. With an arm around my waist, I barely missed the ground.

Slowly opening my eyes, I glanced up to see Jung Jaehyun looking down at me with a worried gaze. He was just a sixteen-year-old boy dressed as a spoon and yet, the world around us came to a halt. Gone were the other frantic theatre kids and the backstage messes. The couple playing Belle and the Beast was no longer sitting across from us, running through their lines. No hustle and bustle of the crew and the props masters.

It was just me dressed as a fork, falling down while my spoon for a best friend caught me in his arms. 

“We make quite a pair, don’t we, Forky?” he chuckled lowly, hitting the top of his costume to mine. It was a ridiculous sight— a pair of oversized cutlery in a crowded dressing room.

A burning hot sensation crept its way up to my face as he gently pulled me up. “I guess we do.”

Since then, my life has never been the same. I was in love with my best friend, Jung Jaehyun. I fell for him when the world stopped spinning beneath my feet while his world, unfortunately, kept on turning.

I remember each and every slowed-down moment in life —the good, the bad, and the absolute worst. I never thought a bad slo-mo moment existed, I simply didn’t think it was possible. 

I was young and naive then and I was so incredibly wrong.

The moment that hurt me most took place in my senior year of high school. The final callbacks for our community’s production of Disney’s Newsies were in order. The role of Jack Kelly, the headstrong and flirty newsboy, was easily given to the ever-so-charming Jung Jaehyun. He was not only my best friend at the time but he was the it-boy of our small theatre. People were either in love with him or wanted to be him— his talent matched his insane looks. His kind personality made him all the more lovable.

Jaehyun had his two fatal flaws, though. Everyone knew them but still saw him in such a bright light.

One: the boy was extremely clumsy. Jaehyun was often called “magic hands,” constantly ruining his props. It was a running gag in the theatre but the props committee never minded; one smile was all it took for them to forgive him and his cursed hands. 

That was his first flaw. And his second? Jaehyun fell in love way too easily and way too fast. 

How exactly did I find this out? Well, I was there to witness the scene that lifted his heart to the highest of levels while mine dropped straight to the ground.

I was in the running for the stubbornly intelligent female lead named Katherine Plumber. My opponent was the confident and radiant Son Wendy. She always played the lead in her high school productions but this was a community musical and I was determined to claim that part as my own. 

I went first, entering the audition room with a smile with the script gripped tightly in my palm. Performing alongside my best friend was easy. The romantic scene was a piece of cake, not because the lines were a breeze. That wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t because I memorized the Newsies script as a child either. It was because, at that moment, Jung Jaehyun was in love with me as much as I was in love with him. It was a moment I wanted to cherish forever: the way he looked at me was something I had never experienced before. It was so full of emotion and passion, like he had me within his grasp and never wanted to let me go.

“You got this. I believe in you,” he whispered in my ear, squeezing my hand in support. His breath tickled my skin and sent shivers down my spine. The nerves were back, not because of the audition, but because of him. 

“You’re just saying that because it’s the scene we’re about to act out, Jae,” I hissed. The sheet music for the duet, Something to Believe In, wrinkled in my free palm. 

His warm, comforting hand pressed harder against my own. “No, it’s not that. If you need someone to believe in you, I’m right here. I’ve got you, Forky. Always.”

The director cleared his throat from his seat, his scrutinizing eyes watching us closely as we got into position, just like we rehearsed a thousand times. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I watched as Jaehyun took a deep breath to get into character. He closed his eyes, rolled his broad shoulders back, and then his lids snapped open. His brown-eyed gaze aimed straight at me, with a vulnerable expression taking over his features. He was no longer Jung Jaehyun— he was Jack Kelly, a scared newsboy who was in love with a newspaper company heiress. 

The line came pouring out of his mouth with the utmost sincerity, the confusion and affection seeping through his words, “Just standing here tonight, looking at you, I’m scared tomorrow is gonna come and change everything.”

 Jaehyun took a step forward towards me, an unsure smile curling on his lips. “If there was a way I could just grab hold of something to make time stop just so I could keep looking at you.”

His body stops right in front of mine, keeping a clear distance but enough to feel the passion radiating off of his words and actions. For once in my young life, my best friend looked at me with a different kind of love in his eyes and I returned it, my genuine feelings seeping through my words. 

Biting my lip, I replied coyly, “You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly, I never even saw it coming.”

“For sure?” he stage-whispered. His upstage hand unexpectedly reached up to caress my cheek. The action was unrehearsed, almost catching me off guard. It was a different take on the scene. The characters were supposed to be shy, their thoughts wavering on their own feelings for each other and the impending strike that was to come the day after; yet, Jaehyun played Jack as someone certain of his feelings.

“For sure,” I answered back at the same volume, my hand cupping his own to follow along with his direction. It felt as if he was searching my soul for my thoughts and I could not let him in. The opening bars of the romantic duet echoed throughout the room and after taking a breath, I began to sing. Jaehyun joined in on the second verse and instantly, our voices blended together in a beautiful harmony, one that beat our Newsies karaoke sessions in his car. 

The scene ended as quickly as it began. The director hummed before jotting notes down and whispering to his casting assistants for a few seconds. I thought they were the longest seconds of my life. Jaehyun nodded his head to reassure me. “You did well, Forky.”

“Of course I did, it’s me we’re talking about here,” I nudged him back. “I can do no wrong, Jae!” 

“Thank you,” the director finally spoke, “you may go. Jaehyun, if you could escort her out and fetch Wendy for me?”

“Of course,” your friend nodded. The feeling of his large hand on my back slowly guided me out of the room. The spot he touched me burned but my cheeks were burning even more. Why was it that every little touch drove me to the brink of insanity?

“You’re so going to land this part,” I remember him saying as he squeezed my waist. My heart was beating erratically against my ribcage, the butterflies in my stomach threatening to fly their way up my throat.

“You think so?”

“Oh definitely,” Jaehyun stressed with a wink. 

He said it too soon. 

Because the minute he locked gazes with Son Wendy, I just knew he had found his leading lady. 

“S-Son Wendy?” he stuttered as he caught sight of the pretty girl in the waiting room. Her hair was styled similarly to a young maiden from the turn of the century, perfectly curled and out of her face. 

“Yes?” she smiled back.

It seemed like the words were caught in my best friend’s throat. Sneaking a glance at Jaehyun’s ears, they burned a bright red. “We’re, um, we’re ready for you.”

I watched as Jaehyun nervously offered his arm to her, his eyes never leaving her face. It was like he was her own personal spotlight, the way his eyes shone just for the girl in front of him. The boy was completely enamored and I was instantly in the shadows. The sweet smile that was reserved for me was directed towards another and it sparkled in a way it never did before.

The world around me moved incredibly slow as they passed me by. With everything frozen, all I saw was the gorgeous couple headed to the audition room with hushed exchanges. Jaehyun took his time heading to the private room to spend more time with the girl while Son Wendy steadily made her way into my friend’s fragile heart. My own heart clenched at the sight. It was breaking ever so slowly and I felt every little crack and tear. 

Even with the role of the understudy, it was as if I never even had a chance at winning his heart over. If Wendy wasn’t present for one rehearsal, Jaehyun didn’t even see me— his own best friend since our ensemble days. He was way too deep into his “showmance.” It was like I never even existed. It wasn’t long before he called Wendy his girlfriend and then, I was invisible. Cast aside. Ignored.

Needless to say, my heart broke in slow-motion as Jaehyun’s pounded rapidly for a girl that took two parts I desperately ached for: Katherine Plumber and the girl who held Jaehyun’s heart. 

But this was just the first time his heart was stolen by his opposite. The first of many.

The first two years of university passed me by like a summer breeze. Constantly busy with general education and introductory drama courses, I was constantly flitting around from building to building. My hands were usually occupied by my laptop, a blazing cup of caffeinated tea, and a worn out script while my mind was filled with jumbled up lines and the dramatic cries of an overwhelmed university student. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t for Jaehyun and Xiao Dejun, another theatre major we had met during orientation, by my side.

Fast forward to my third year and the three of us were headed to the office of the theatre department. It was posting day for the spring musical— the day the cast list was revealed. This year’s musical spectacular was Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. The play itself was a modern classic and it was also my dream come true.

This day, just like any posting day of the drama department, was nerve-racking. Everyone was anxious to find out what parts they were given and how the fairytale would play out. The part of the brave and kind Ella was always on my list of roles I wanted to fill. As much as I thought I did well on my final callback, I didn’t want to set my hopes too high.

“Are you nervous?” Jaehyun asked while draping an arm over my shoulder. He playfully put all his weight onto his right side to throw me off balance. 

“Nervous? Me? Why would I be nervous if I’m like 95% sure  I’m going to get the understudy again?” I chuckled sarcastically. Bitterly. It happened every year, so why get my hopes up now?

“Yeah but—”

“No buts, I’ve accepted the title of the Wonderstudy! I think you should too, Jae,” I slapped his shoulder before quickly slipping out of his hold before linking arms with Dejun. My best friend let out a yelp, almost tripping over his own two feet as we continued down the hallway. “I’m mediocre at best.��

The Wonderstudy: it was the nickname the other students in the department gave me because I was always the understudy. I was never the star of the show. It said that I was good but not good enough. 

Dejun leaned in and whispered, “You do know that you’re more than just that, right? You’re an actor. A phenomenal one. You weren’t accepted to this drama program by just being mediocre at best.”

I ignored my friend’s comment, eyes zoned in at the other end of the building. The crowd of usual theatre students crowded around the bulletin board, curious heads popping up and down trying to take a peek at the list. Some buzzed with excitement, happy they got a major part while others groaned in disappointment. You were most likely going to be with the later group. 

Once the cluster of students caught sight of Jaehyun, they parted like the red sea to let him through. It wasn’t really necessary, though, everyone knew the it-boy of the drama department was cast as the role of the misguided prince, Topher. 

The only question was: who was cast as his princess? Who was this year’s Ella?

I fought my way through the bunch with Dejun following behind me as our best friend was showered with congratulations. Jaehyun was all smiles, dimples prominent as he was lavished by the mass. Dejun made it to the list first. His finger dragged along the thin paper until he found his name. He cheered, pumping his fist up in joy. “I got the part I wanted! I’m Jean-Michel!”

Grinning at my friend, I sincerely congratulated him. He got the second lead: the feisty peasant looking for change. Turning again, his eyes grazed the list until Dejun found my name. His smile dropped ever so slightly and that was when I knew: I was beaten once again. 

“What part did I get?”

“Gabrielle,” he answered. Ah, the outwardly abrasive but quietly empathetic sister. The second lead, love interest of Jean-Michel. At least I was playing Dejun’s opposite. 

I took a step closer, wondering who took the part of the kind princess. Squinting at the small print, my eyes scanned the jumble of words until I saw it.

Ella……………………….Lee Naeun Ella u/s………………….Y/N

I scoffed. Forever the understudy. The Wonderstudy of the Theatre Department indeed.

The first rehearsal, otherwise known as the read-through, took a toll on me. It was usually a two to three hour long session, filled with loud chatter, crazy introductions, and a variety of crazy theatre games to break the ice. When the niceties ended, everyone took their seats in their plastic chairs that were arranged in a huge circle. Bae Joohyun, the head stage manager began reading the stage directions aloud as the table read began. The production’s director, Professor O’Hare, sat alongside Joohyun, jotting down notes and giving out commentary when needed. 

Amongst the reading of lines were tiny whispers, the sound of highlighters and pencils marking the paper, and the simultaneous turning of pages. The music director, Professor Lau sat at the piano bench and sight-read the music to give the cast a taste of the songs. Being the first rehearsal, the few who knew of the songs sang along to the accompaniment with joyous smiles, myself and Dejun included.

When Professor Lau played the first romantic duet between the leads, all heads turned to Jaehyun and Naeun who sat side-by-side. With it being their first time together, the performance was far from perfect but it was still something. His lower tone blended nicely with her softer voice and the shy glances they exchanged made their duet quite a sight. 

As Jaehyun and Naeun read the last lines for Act One, I noticed the way Jaehyun’s gaze kept flittering back to Naeun’s pretty face. The girl was focused on her lines, head down and hair blocking her gorgeous features, but he still kept looking at her and only her. I could imagine how the scene was playing out in his head, the world slowing down until Naeun was the only one moving.  He was infatuated. Twitterpated. 

And it hurt. It hurt more than reading the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet or listening to Elphaba’s desperate cry she lets out when she loses Fiyero. Call me dramatic but that was how I felt. 

It wasn’t like I tried getting over him. It wasn’t like I tried dating other people before; I had many, many times but my mind always drifted back to my best friend. He was the boy with the richest brown eyes, the perfectly dimpled smile, and the lowest laugh that set my heart aflame. Without even knowing it, Jaehyun had this incredible hold on my broken heart and he would not let me out of his grip. 

The green-eyed monster inside me resurfaced and I hated it. I absolutely hated it— why was I so pathetically in love with my best friend? 

 “Here we go again,” I said before dropping my head onto the table. 

“You say that every time and you keep running back to him at the end of the day,” Dejun whispered before looking back down at his script. His hand continued to jet across the page, his highlighter marking his many lines. 

Rolling up the script in my hand, I whacked his side. The action caused his hand to jerk the bright marker in another direction, striking a distorted line on his page. “Look what you did, twerp!” he hissed.

“Your fault, Eyebrows!”

“Stop calling me that, you fork!”

“Hey, only I can call her fork!” Jaehyun appeared out of nowhere, plopping alongside me. His voice snapped us out of our little argument, making us realize that the director called for a fifteen. 

“That’s only because you’re a dumb spoon,” I stuck my tongue out at him. Jaehyun pretended to reach for it and I blew a raspberry at him to retaliate. 

“You two idiots are my favorite cutlery set,” Dejun shook his head with a laugh. He was probably wondering why he stuck around us the majority of the time. 

“Let off it, Dejun,” Jaehyun said with the roll of his brown orbs. 

“Only if you let me be the knife to your set.”

“As if, dumbass,” I countered with a laugh. 

“Okay but you guys, can we stop fighting for a sec and talk about how I got her number?” Jaehyun beamed, throwing his arms over both our shoulders. He pulled us closer to his body and the faint smell of his musky cologne hit my nose. I held back a sigh as it filled my senses. Oh, to be drowned in his scent. 

“I got Naeun’s number!” he repeated excitedly, his strong arms shaking us. I held back my abrupt want to push him off. I wasn’t in a celebrating mood. My heart was too broken to care.

“Of course you did, when do you not get a girl’s number?” I answered a bit too bitterly. Raising a brow at him, I added, “Are we supposed to be surprised?”

“Listen,” Jaehyun countered, pulling back from me. “I don’t like that attitude, Forky.”

I scoffed, “Never stopped you from being my friend before, Jae.”

Jaehyun didn’t answer; he was too busy clutching his phone. His pretty brown eyes were fixed on Naeun’s contact page like it was the world’s greatest treasure. His eyes were sparkling in admiration before his gaze turned to the girl across the room. The look my best friend wore on his face was soft, the smile on his lips light. “I think she could be the one.”

Some thought him to be a player but I never thought of him that way. He might have had the looks of a heartbreaker but he had the purest heart of gold. The boy with the dimpled smile, porcelain skin, and cheeks as red as roses was a hopeless romantic to his very core. He was simply looking for his other half. 

“I think she could be the one.” His words repeated in my head, his voice pestering me. My heart lurched at them despite hearing them each semester. 

Jaehyun said this every year, with every girl. He said this when he crushed on Son Wendy, Kim Chungha, and so many more. His infatuations and crushes ended just as easily as they started. The boy was more than disappointed when the initial spark with each girl ended after a show’s run ended. When the musical closed, so did his feelings for each opposite. 

I never got stage fright; I was usually the one who said what was on her mind without a moment’s hesitation. So why was I hesitating to tell him my feelings?

Why was I hesitating to say that the one Jaehyun could be looking for was standing right next to him?

Just another rehearsal at the auditorium. 

Just another day watching my best friend fall for his leading lady.

Jaehyun and Naeun were standing in the middle of the stage, the ensemble surrounding them. He stood behind her, his hands gently placed on her waist while she leaned back into his touch. Naeun was wearing a fluffy tulle skirt, a mock-up of her ballgown. Park Sooyoung, the resident fashion major and lead costume designer, pushed her to wear it so she could get used to the estimated size of her dress. Even in a mere tank top and tulle skirt, Lee Naeun looked like a princess.

Professor Kwon, the choreographer of the production, stood at the end with a watchful eye. She counted them off, walking them through the routine while the rest of us practiced our steps off to the sidelines. 

Once the two main characters got the hang of their steps, Professor Kwon motioned for Professor Lau to play the songs from the beginning. As much as I tried to focus on my own dance moves, my mind kept wandering back to Jaehyun. 

Imagining him under the spotlight in a perfectly tailored suit, a crown sitting on his head, extending his arm out not to Naeun but to me. It was one of those movie moments where the characters and the audience watching fell in love. 

If life was like a movie, things would be so much easier. 

So lost in my thoughts, I missed a count and stepped on my partner’s foot. Muttering a quiet sorry to him, we continued on with the routine. As my partner swirled me around the dance floor, I drifted back into my daydream.

My utterly impossible daydream where I was the girl Jung Jaehyun was infatuated with. Although this play talked about impossible things happening everyday, I couldn’t imagine this ever happening. 

The terrible thing about being a theatre major in university was being a theatre major with midterms. Not only did I have to deal with hours of my back hunched over a desk and scattered study materials, I had to spend half of my days in the school’s theatre rehearsing. 

If I was not in class scribbling down last minute notes in notebooks,  I was learning dance routines or running lines on and off stage alongside Dejun. The days were long and the nights were even longer. Sometimes, the cast fell asleep in the seats of the auditorium while rehearsals were going on. We were all losing sleep. Some of us were losing our sanity but hey, welcome to the theatre. 

My schedule was filled to the brim and I wasn’t even the main character of the show. On top of that, I had to memorize the part of Ella. Not that it was really needed in the first place. 

No one ever stepped down from a lead role while I was their backup. It just didn’t happen.

Despite the hectic lives of belonging to the theatre department, the musical was two months into production and everything was running smoothly. With a month and a left until opening night, everyone was off-book and the initial stage blocking was done. The costuming and makeup committee were finishing up their mock-up designs and the student orchestra sounded divine. 

I saw more of Dejun than Jaehyun lately, my best friend being preoccupied with his new love interest before, during, and after rehearsals. I was cast aside once again.

Was it something out of the ordinary? No.

Did it still hurt? Yes.

Did I do anything about it? Absolutely not. I didn’t want to ruin his happiness. I rather suffer than see him as nothing but joyous, even if the happiness was temporary. The grin he wore when he was in love was too beautiful to rip away. Jaehyun shined like the light from the sun. I could never bring myself to do it. 

It was week eight of rehearsals when I stepped out of my last midterm, my head absolutely empty after reading small text for over an hour. Reaching into my backpack’s front pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and quickly turned it on. My screen was flooded with missed calls and texts from Professor O’Hare, Joohyun, Jaehyun, and Dejun, the notification numbers reaching over a hundred total. 

Something must have happened. Talk about a theatre emergency. Knowing our kind, they were probably being overdramatic. 

Just as I was about to unlock my phone, a video call went through. It was Dejun. Rolling my eyes, I slid my finger across the screen to answer it. “Jeez, I know you love me but give a girl a break, Eyebrows!”

“God, you’re so conceited sometimes. Why didn’t you answer my calls?!” He shouted, face close to the phone. I winced at the volume, immediately lowering the level as I slipped on my wireless earbuds. “There are important matters to discuss here!”

“What happened this time? Did someone say Macbeth in the theatre again? You know I don’t believe in that shit,” I said sarcastically.

“Oh my god. This is not the time for jokes! Everyone’s been trying to reach you!” Xiaojun yelled once more. “Where are you?!”

“I just got out of my musical history midterm in Maple Hall. Heading to the theatre right now. Why?” I never received an answer; Dejun hung up the call. Giving my phone a weird look, I shoved it in my pocket before continuing on my way. A light push on my back prevented me from going too far. 

“Twerp!” Xiao Dejun’s voice came from behind me, yanking me by the straps of my backpack. He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. “Oh my god, we’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said in between heavy breaths. 

Crossing my arms, I cocked a brow at him. “Why’s that?”

Dejun placed a hand on my shoulder for support. The words came flying out of his mouth, I almost couldn’t catch what he was saying. So much for being a theatre major. 

“Speak clearly, Dejun. Enunciate, articulate, exaggerate, remember? We are thespians and thespians do not mumble!”

The exhausted boy ignored my theatricals. “Naeun didn’t land a switch leap right and she rolled her ankle during advanced ballet. She’s going to be out for at least three to four weeks,” my friend replied breathily, his words a lot clearer than before.

The news shocked me to the core, my feet suddenly planted to the ground. It sounded like he said Naeun was out of commission. “What?” 

“She’s out for three to four weeks! I mean sucks for her, I wish her a speedy recovery but do you know what this means?”

The lack of response from me urged him to continue, “Sweetheart, she’s out. You’re in!”

Oh shit. I was in.

The part I had always dreamed of was mine. The lead role was finally mine.

I was now Ella and Jung Jaehyun was my Prince Topher.

Having an understudy step up to their role halfway through production was always something to get used to. It was a setback, a minor one, but still a setback. Just as Jaehyun finally settled into his role and built an unshakeable bond with Lee Naeun as his opposite, the accident happened. His potential girlfriend was now out of the show and off her feet in order to push for a speedy recovery.

The lovesick boy couldn’t even be there for her because his rehearsal times increased in order to get his best friend adjusted to your new role. There he was, leaning against the piano while waiting for you to arrive.

Professor Lau sat at the bench, flipping through his sheet music until he found the song he was looking for. 

The door slammed open and you stumbled in. “Am I late? I’m sorry, I just heard the news.”

“No, not at all. You’re right on time,” the professor smiled at you. “The situation’s weird, I know but congratulations on getting Ella.”

“Thanks, Professor. That means a lot,” you grinned back. 

Dropping your bag by the piano, you swiftly pulled out the script. You glanced at Jaehyun’s opened book for the page number before hastily flipping through the pages. Jaehyun nudged your side. “Hey, Forky.”

“Hey yourself,” you elbowed him back, biting your bottom lip.

“Congrats, bubs. You did it,” he pulled you into a side hug before ruffling your hair with pride. You had finally gotten a part you wanted. It was your time to shine. As your best friend for many years, Jaehyun had been waiting for the day you could show the crowds your full potential.  

“Did I really do it or did your girlfriend just get injured? How is she, by the way?” 

As much as you tried to play the overdramatic, conceited girl, you never believed in yourself but Jaehyun always did. You deserve the spotlight; your talent was out of this world and the masses were finally granted a chance to see you for what you were— a star.

“You did this. You were made for this part as much as she was,” Jaehyun reassured his best friend with a smile. He tapped your nose. “And she’s not my girlfriend but she’s doing alright. Just in a little bit of pain. I’m going to see her after we finish.”

“Give her some well wishes for me,” you answered. Jaehyun didn’t notice your smile dropping into a small frown.

“You ready to act like you’re in love with me?”

“I was born ready, you doof.” There was something weird in your voice when those words left your lips but Jaehyun didn’t have time to process it.

Professor Lau guided the students through a series of warm-ups before asking, “Shall we start with Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful today? We’ll do a couple of run-throughs before Jaehyun teaches you the blocking.” His fingers played the beginning notes of the song, the light melody drifting to their ears. 

Already off book at this point, Jaehyun closed his eyes and began to sing.

Do I love you because you’re beautiful? Or are you beautiful because I love you?

Am I making believe I see in you A girl too lovely to be really true?

Do I want you because you’re wonderful? Or are you wonderful because I want you?

Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream? Or are you really as wonderful as you seem?

When his eyes fluttered open, Jaehyun found himself facing you with a script in hand. Your face wore the softest look as you stared back at him. His breath almost caught in his throat at the gentle smile you wore. You played the part differently from Naeun and it was a refreshing sight to behold. You were playing a confused peasant but your eyes still sparkled with the gleam of a thousand suns. 

There was a flush of heat that started from his cheeks and extended to his reddening ears. His heart was doing its best to break out of his ribcage and the star of the show wasn’t sure if his chest could keep it in for very much longer.

When singing with him, Naeun was a pretty princess.

But when he sang with you, the girl in front of him? Jaehyun thought you were absolutely breathtaking.

Two hours later, we were finally free of rehearsals. My first rehearsal as Ella. My throat was a bit parched from all the singing and projecting I was doing but I felt lighter than air. Singing with Jaehyun made me feel lighter than air. I was weightless, nothing could hold me down.

“Forky, you’re really good,” he said to me as we walked to our cars. I tried to fight the sudden heat making its way to my face. Lately, compliments from him were hard to come by.

 It was already late when O’Hare and Lau finally let us out, the moon sitting high in the sky. The night breeze crept its way into my thin jacket, causing me to hug myself to retain some warmth. Noticing my struggle with the cold, Jaehyun quickly draped his jacket over my shoulders. I was immediately hit with his familiar scent, it was almost overwhelming. I should be used to this, his action of sharing his clothes with me was nothing new but I was weak. It affected me every single time. I guess I was that head over heels for him. 

Head over glass heels, one could even say.

“You’ve seen me in action before and I mean, I was chosen to be the understudy for a reason,” I gave him a shrug. 

“Yeah but I’ve never seen you act and sing like that. Just...wow.” Stealing a glance at him, Jaehyun almost looked enamored with me. He was giving me a look that was usually reserved for someone else. I felt my heartbeat pick up in my chest and flutters in my stomach.

“Stop that,” I blushed, pinching his skin through the thin material of his long-sleeved shirt. A satisfying buzz ran through my body. Was he really looking at me like that? I was probably reading too much into it.

“No, but it seemed so real. Like you weren’t pretending.”

“That’s because I wasn’t,” I whispered under my breath as we arrived at our cars. 

“Hmm, you say something?” Jaehyun asked, leaning closer to hear me. 

Shaking my feelings away, I ignored the dull ache in my chest and acted through the tears I was desperately holding in. I wrinkled my nose at him playfully, secretly pushing the pain down my throat. “You really don’t listen to a word I say, do you, Jae? I said, I’ll see you later.”

“See ya, Forky! Get home safely!”

Scoffing to myself, I realized how much of a great actor I was. I deserved an Oscar or a Tony for the scenes I played out, the ones where I pretended to be okay when I was far from it. 

What award do you ask? Best Actress in a Supporting Role— the best friend to Jung Jaehyun but never the love of his life.

Wardrobe fittings for productions were always an exciting day for the whole cast and crew. It was one step closer to putting on a show. Jaehyun was already dressed in one of his many costumes, a white suit with golden trimmings. It fit him for the most part, only tiny adjustments were needed. Members of the wardrobe department quickly pinned his neatly pressed jacket before taking it off his hands. Since he was the main character, Jaehyun was one of the first ones done. He was simply waiting for you to come out in your first dress— the white gown for the ball scene in Act One.

When you finally did all those minutes ago, Jaehyun swore his heart stopped. 

Ten minutes ago, Jaehyun saw his best friend walk through the curtains. Your face was bare, hair still in that lazy style you always sported but your clothes. The comfy clothing you usually rehearsed in was gone and replaced by a beautiful ball gown. Despite the pins that scattered throughout the material to fit your form, it still appeared majestic. There you were, standing before him and the rest of the cast, and you were the loveliest you had ever been.

Ten minutes ago, you walked in and his head was reeling. Time slowed down as you tentatively made your way towards him. You did not meet his eyes but Jaehyun was dying to catch your gaze. He never wanted to let you out of his sight. The picture of his best friend in white was something he wanted to treasure and suddenly, the slowness around him stopped. The cast’s cheers and squeals disappeared. There was only you in that beautiful ball gown. 

Was this the slow-motion moment you always talked about? The one you always dreamed about experiencing? Jaehyun could see why people thought it to be magic. It was almost like a movie, movie magic if you will. 

Another look at you and then Jaehyun was in the future, watching you make her way down the aisle. A thin veil covered your face and he was so tempted to push it away from concealing your dazzling smile. His heart was fighting its way out of his chest, wanting to head down the path straight to you. How he wanted to reach out and touch you, cradle you in his arms. 

You were truly an angel in white. A princess. A queen.

The mere sight of you took him to the skies, the one place he was sure you were from. Although Jaehyun would never admit it, he always thought you to be beautiful. Throughout the many years of being best friends, he would find his gaze subconsciously drifting to you. He would rip it away before you would ever notice him doing so, knowing you would tease the hell out of him for it— it was his own little secret tucked away into the corners of his beating heart. 

“How do I look?” Your question snapped him out of his daydream and back to reality. Back down to earth. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

“Oh my god, you stupid spoon! I said, how do I look?”

“Lovely,” he answered sincerely, his brown eyes digging into your own. “You look absolutely lovely.”

Ten minutes ago, you simply murmured a question while Jung Jaehyun came to a realization. The realization that he might’ve fallen for you: his Forky, his best friend.

The loveliest girl he had ever seen.

With Cinderella’s opening night being only a few weeks out, you and Jaehyun decided to fit in extra time together to run lines and songs outside of scheduled rehearsals. That was the plan for every weekend and that particular Saturday was no exception to this plan. When his doorbell rang frantically, Jaehyun groaned loudly before getting up to answer the door. Did you always have to be so obnoxious?

Just as the door swung open, your loud voice boomed into his apartment, “‘Sup, ho! Ready to rehearse the hell out of this show or what?”

He stepped aside to let you in and you immediately made yourself comfortable in his humble abode. Jaehyun almost laughed as he watched you. There was a particular routine you stuck to when visiting his place. First, you would take off your shoes, slip on your personal pair of slippers you left at his house, drop your bag on the kitchen counter, and then open his fridge to raid his food supply.

Precisely as Jaehyun predicted, you waddled to the fridge in your memory-foam duck slippers and stole one of his yakults. He loved how comfortable you were in his home. It was truly a heart-warming sight.  The act itself was extremely domestic and he quite liked the domesticity when it was with you. That flash of you in a wedding gown came back to him and he blushed at the thought. The idea of spending a future together was flooding his brain recently and he didn’t know what to do. 

You weren’t the one he liked. Naeun was but why were you the only person on his mind? Was it wrong to have you in his mind? Naeun wasn’t his girlfriend— they were still getting to know each other. His time with her decreased over time since you had stepped into the role of Ella. He was very fond of you. He always had been. There was this little piece of his heart that was reserved for you but was it because you were his best friend or was it more?

Jaehyun quickly snapped himself out of it. 

“First of all, I’m not a ho,” he said before grabbing a yakult of his own. He poked the straw through the foil a bit too harshly, the liquid splashing over the top. Damn his strength— now half of his drink was gone. “Second, stop slut-shaming me for my dating choices. It’s 2021. If I wanted to be a ho, I could be a ho.”

You rolled your eyes as you took a sip of your drink. “God, I hate you sometimes.”

“You need to stop lying to yourself, I know you’re hopelessly in love with me,” Jaehyun said, pointing his drink towards you. He caught you rolling your eyes at his answer.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. I am irrevocably in love with you, Jung Jaehyun,” you said sarcastically, dramatically batting your eyelashes his way. Your confession, despite being a sarcastic statement, left his heart racing against time. 

“Alexa, play Hopelessly Devoted to You!” you yelled ironically. 

“Now playing Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John,” an electronic voice boomed across his living room before the opening notes of the ballad began to play. 

“Shit! I forgot you actually had an Echo,” you jumped, not expecting that at all. Jaehyun chuckled at your reaction, loving how easily you scare. He always thought it was one of your cuter traits. 

“Alexa, stop!” he called. 

Jaehyun ran a hand through his hair. He dragged his feet to his bedroom, knowing you would follow without a word. “I can’t rehearse today, I have to write this damned analysis paper for a class. It’s due in two days.”

“I’m sorry, is that paper more important than your best friend in the entire world?” you pushed from behind him.

“Yes,” he deadpanned, taking a seat at his desk. Jaehyun’s study area was an absolute mess. His notebooks were scattered around the floor, textbooks opened to random pages, and his laptop opened to a google document.  

“That’s a motherfucking lie and you know it.”

“I really can’t rehearse now, Forky,” he sighed.

He glared at you as you theatrically fell onto his bed. The notes spread out on his bed flying to the floor. “Oh, woe is me! Jung Jaehyun cannot give me the time of day to rehearse. What am I to do?”

“Why are you like this?” 

“I’m a theatre student, I’m wired to be this obnoxious,” you said with a straight face. 

He stared at you through narrowed eyes. “I really hate you right now.”

“I know,” you countered with a flat tone. “But in all seriousness, Jaehyun. I won’t take too much of your time. I just wanted to practice our duets a couple of times and then I’ll be out of your hair. Plus, you look like you need a break.”

One look at you and he was a goner. How could he ever say no to his best friend?

“Ugh, fine.”

“Ha, I knew you would cave.”

“Shut up.”

The next hour with you was spent rehearsing the numbers. During the last run-through, Jaehyun suggested going over the blocking and putting their all in it. To act like it was opening night. You swiftly agreed and he played the music from the top.

Jaehyun led you around his room, spinning you across the floor as you sang. The smile on your face was so lovely, he could not take his eyes off your lips. His eyes fluttered to a close and he imagined you in your full costume, downed in your gown, as dainty as a daisy and as graceful as a bird. The thought of you dressed like a princess drove him crazy.

He never thought of Naeun this way. This was different. You were different but why?

Jaehyun opened his eyes to see you smiling so gracefully at him as the song was coming to an end. Just as planned in the show, your gaze flitted to his lips. You leaned closer and he followed, dipping his head to meet you halfway. His heart was skipping to its own beat as he inched down. Your soft lips brushed against his oh-so-gently as he held you in his arms but before the boy could press back, the door to his room swung open.

You broke away from him, shocked at the sudden arrival to see your other friend and Jaehyun’s roommate, Dejun. “Oops, was I interrupting something?” 

“I, uh, I gotta go.” Before you could even stop him, Jaehyun grabbed his wallet and phone off his desk and ran out his room. 

Confusion clouded his senses. Why did he feel empty after you pulled away? Why did he want to kiss you so badly? It was just a stage kiss.

Was it not?

Jaehyun’s door slammed shut behind him, leaving me and Dejun in his room. It wasn’t long before we heard the front door close, too. “Well, that was something,” Dejun said after his roommate shuffled out of the apartment.

“Shut up, Xiao Dejun,” I replied, smacking his arm. 

My friend lifted his arms up in defense before he gave me a pointed stare. “I’m just saying, the two of you looked really into it. It looked great, to be honest with you. No notes to give here— I’m sure O’Hare and Lau would say the same.”

“It’s just acting,” I tried to shrug it off. 

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not!”

“Bulltshit. I saw the way he looked at you— that’s not acting, twerp,” Dejun declared, his voice dropping. His voice never dipped in tone unless he was serious and in that moment, he was dead serious. My friend sounded like a frustrated tutor deliberately explaining a concept for the fifth time and I was the stubborn student who just didn’t understand.

“Yes, yes it is!”

“No, it’s not because that’s how he always looked at you!” 

“Lies!” I yelled accusingly, “We got Liza Minnelli over here!” 

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes! Why won’t you confess? Cat got your tongue? Nothing’s really stopped your sharp tongue before,” Dejun groaned at my stubbornness. He slapped a hand onto my shoulder. I tried to shrug him off but his grip was too strong. Maybe it was him trying to help me get a grip. Who knew? I honestly didn’t. 

“It’s not like I haven’t tried, you know?” An exasperated answer left my lips. I was tired. So ridiculously tired of dealing with these feelings for my best friend. It had been four years since I fell for him. Four years of trying to see other people, four years of trying to confess, and four long years of failing every time.  “I just freeze up like a deer in headlights or like you did when you performed that one monologue sophomore year in voice and movement class. Remember that, Jun?”

I felt his sharp glare burning a hole in my back. “You promised to never talk about that moment, you traitor,” he hissed, his hand squeezing the hell out of my shoulder. 

“Okay yeah but you get the point, right?” My nails dug into his skin, leaving little indents onto his hand. He yelped, finally jerking his hand back to examine it. Shaking my head, I added, “Plus, he’s my best friend. I just can’t do it!”

“So, what you’re saying is that you choose friendship over the possibility of him loving you?” 

“It’s just...I don’t know—” I started, shifting my body to face him, “—choosing friendship means that I’ll only lose love. But if I chose to confess and put my feelings out there, I could lose him as a potential lover and my best friend. I’m not prepared for that. I don’t think I ever will be.”

And there it was again. The self-doubt hit me, imposter syndrome resurfacing at an all time high, bringing me to the lowest of lows. 

The feeling of being a fraud, of being not good enough. 

For Jaehyun. For any love interest for that matter. For the role of Ella. For taking my place under the spotlight. 

“Dejun?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I—am I good enough?”

“For?”

“I—I don’t know—” I stuttered as my mind was consumed by my own crippling thoughts. I tried to stay strong but the crack in my voice gave me away, “—for anything? Everything?” 

“Oh, twerp,” Dejun said in that particular voice and then that was when the floodgates opened. The tears just came pouring down with no sign of stopping. My friend gently pulled me into his comforting arms. They were snug and I felt safe but not as safe as I did in Jaehyun’s hold.

“You, my darling, are definitely good enough. Don’t let your thoughts tell you otherwise.” Although his voice was comforting, it did not help the unhinged thoughts running through my brain. 

“Then, why does it always hurt when I don’t get the role of the leading lady? Of his leading lady? I always get so far and then, at the end of the day, I’m just not what they’re looking for. What he’s looking for.” Pining for something so unimaginable was too taxing. Having the lead role in a play and having Jung Jaehyun wear his heart on his sleeve just for me. 

“Sometimes, the roles aren’t made for you and that’s okay.”

“But what about this one?”

“This one, twerp, this one is a little different.” 

“And why’s that?”

“Because there is music in you; it goes hand in hand with Jaehyun, like a melody to his harmony. You are his Ella and he’s your Topher,” Dejun urged. It was like he was begging me to not give up hope. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not. You just gotta do what the theatre gods tell us to do: just trust the process.” 

How could I trust the process when all it did was hurt me by allowing me to have a glimpse of a love and a life that would never be mine? 

Opening night finally arrived. Everyone was called to the theatre for a full run through in the afternoon: the final dress rehearsal hours before the doors opened and the curtains were drawn. I had gotten there earlier to soak in the calmness of the empty auditorium before the chaos began.

I heard heavy footsteps come from behind me. Even without turning around, I knew it to be Jaehyun. The boy took a seat next to me on the wooden prop walls that were locked into the ground. If the stage managers and props committee saw us, they would’ve definitely ripped our heads off but they weren’t— it was just us.  

“Penny for your thoughts, my dear Ella?”

“Topher,” I answered, playing along with his game. “Lovely to see you here bright at early.”

“I knew you would be here and I wanted to be here with you,” he said, pulling me into a side hug. Jaehyun knew me well but did he know me well enough? “Spill it, Forky. What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes I still doubt myself,” I said a little too fast. A loud sigh followed my reveal. The crippling doubt was always there, haunting me. Let me tell you, it was not the best thing in the world to have during an opening for a new production. 

“Oh yeah?” Jaehyun asked, pushing me to continue. I felt the soft brush of his palm against my hand. His fingers grabbed hold of my wrist before fighting their way to tangle with my own fingers. The sensation tickled, taking me away from my thoughts for a fraction of a second. I played with his fingers, watching the way his pinkish hand fit with mine. 

I refused to look at him; I was too afraid of breaking down.“Doubting myself, my abilities. Always the understudy, never the star, remember?”

Jaehyun hummed. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “Did something change?”

“Yeah, I finally realized that maybe it wasn’t that I wasn’t right for the part; the part wasn’t right for me,” I laughed a bit dryly. “Does that make any sense?” 

“Weirdly, yes,” he replied, his breath blowing against my neck. I tried to ignore the tickling sensation and the way it made me feel. 

“But this is different— I feel like I was made to play Ella. Made to play her even though I got the part in this odd, unconventional way,” I turned my head to the side to avoid eye contact. “The girl who sees the good in everything despite the hardships and suffering she went through.”

“Without a doubt, I believe that you belong on stage with me,” Jaehyun answered sincerely, “and I’m glad we have the chance to finally play opposites.” 

He squeezed my smaller palm in support. I appreciated the reassurance; the action slightly calmed me down before she took the next step. Possibly the biggest step of my entire life. “There’s something else I realized, too.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I realized that I could be right for you.” 

It took him a minute, a long solid minute before Jaehyun could bring himself to respond to my confession. I wondered what he was thinking at that moment, when those words left my mouth. “Right for me?” came his tentative reply. A quick glimpse at his ears and I saw the burst of red. He was caught off guard, embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” I said almost shamefully. Was I ashamed of my feelings? I never was ashamed before. Maybe it was because Jaehyun finally saw me for who I truly was— his highly dramatic best friend that was head over glass heels for him. 

“How long— how long have you felt this way?” The red of his ears seeped to his rosy cheeks. 

“Ever since we were a dumb pair of utensils,” I replied sincerely, my voice wavering at the truth, “a set of ridiculous tableware.”

There was an awkward chuckle that left his drying lips. I heard him click his tongue, a habit he did when Jaehyun never knew what to say. It seemed like I rendered him speechless. “Since we were sixteen? That long and you didn’t say anything?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

“Yes, I really am!”

“Jaehyun, c’mon. Use your brain! How was I supposed to? You’re my best friend and when you’re not my best friend, you’re out there chasing other girls,” I stopped to lick my drying lips. There was another inkling of silence and I gulped at how tense the atmosphere was. “And I thought maybe once, just once, you would chase after me, too.” 

I almost laughed; my greatest desire was finally out in the world and it was greeted by silence. 

“But what if I’m wrong for you?” 

And there it was. The rejection I was preparing for. Giving him a pained smile that failed to meet my ears, I said, “Then that’s life, I guess.”

“You guess?” 

“Well, I can’t make you act like you’re in love with me, can I?” I snapped, my pain taking the best of me. It clouded my brain, blocking off all rational thoughts out of my head. “This isn’t a play or a movie with a script, Jaehyun. This is real fucking life.” 

Hurt. I was being overwhelmed with a wave of hurt and anguish. My body was trembling as much as my eyes were. I felt them growing wet and I shut them closed. My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my skin. It stung but not as much as being rejected by the one you loved most. The lead of the movie in your mind. 

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jaehyun tried to stop me from getting off the stage. I pulled away from him, quickly snatching my belongings before heading to the nearest exit. Turning back around before I left the empty auditorium, I experienced another moment in slow-motion. 

There Jaehyun was in all his glory— denim jacket slipping over his broad shoulders, dark brown hair sticking up in all directions and a confused look on his face. He looked like a mess under the spotlight of my mind but nevertheless, he was my mess of a best friend.

He was my mess of a best friend and that was all he was going to be. That fact hurt more than being the forever understudy. 

Why couldn’t I fast forward this portion of my life? Why must I suffer this much?

Why couldn’t I escape the role of being second best?

If only my life was a movie, then maybe I wouldn’t be everyone’s second choice. His second choice.

If we were in a movie, Jung Jaehyun would be my best friend and my perfect match. Our story would be the typical friends-to-lovers saga that every girl dreams of. It would end happily with the credits rolling to a perfectly timed soundtrack. 

Too bad this wasn’t a movie— this was real life and life came with complications.

After that confrontation, you and Jaehyun were off and not off the charts— just off. The directors noticed it. The stage hands noticed. The cast noticed it. The final run-through before the curtains opened just finished and it was an absolute disaster because of the way you acted with Jaehyun. Every time he opened up his body to you, the response you gave him was closed off. Cold. 

To the rest of the cast and crew, the prince and princess didn’t seem very much in love that day— they didn’t even seem friendly. You and Jaehyun seemed like two strangers trying to work their way across a stage. There was no connection. There was nothing else there. 

Now, if only you would let Jaehyun talk to you, maybe something would change but you didn’t. You ran away every chance you could. It was like Cinderella, but you didn’t leave a glass slipper behind. You didn’t leave anything behind. 

Less than an hour before showtime and he couldn’t even talk to you. Let alone look at you. He sighed into his hand, palms applying pressure to his eyes. Jaehyun cursed under his breath, forgetting that he had a heavy amount of stage makeup on his face. Looking into the mirror, he saw his makeup was still intact. Thank the theatre gods for the Ben Nye Final Seal Setter. It seemed like that it was the only thing set in stone at that moment. 

The door to Jaehyun’s dressing room slammed open and Dejun waltzed in, fully dressed in his costume.“Dude, what was up with you and the twerp during that dress rehearsal? You were so off!”

He received no reply, Jaehyun was too zoned out to hear. Dejun hopped onto the counter of Jaehyun’s dresser. Usually, the action would shock the main lead but Jaehyun was too lost in thought.“Well, you know what they say about a bad dress rehearsal. That means we’ll have a good opening night,” Dejun said, eyeing his friend for his lack of response.

Finally looking away from his reflection, Jaehyun glanced up at Dejun with a look of disbelief. “She likes me?”

His friend jumped off the counter with widened eyes.“Oh my god, did she finally confess? Was that why you were acting weird?”

“Dejun, you knew?” Jaehyun slammed his palms on his dresser. The makeup products on the tabletop shook, leaving the other guy to wince at the show of strength. 

“Honestly for being the ace of the theatre department, you sure are dumb,” Dejun replied a bit too casually as he leaned into the mirror to examine his appearance. He clicked his tongue upon realizing his cheeks didn’t have enough color. The stage lights would wash him out. The boy reached for Jaehyun’s pink blush and a clean wedge before applying it onto the apples of his cheeks.

“What should I do?”

“Well, Jaehyun, what do you want to do?” Dejun asked, turning side to side to double-check his reflection. 

“I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you!” Jaehyun fired back with vigor, hating how casual his best friend was acting. He was having a before-show crisis and his best friend was calmly stealing his bottle of Ben Nye, spraying his beautifully sculpted face with the setting spray.

“Well, do you like her more than a friend? And what about Naeun?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know! But—”

“But?” His friend asked before hopping onto the countertop. The actor raised his perfectly shaped eyebrows at his friend and Jaehyun had the sudden urge to pluck the beauties they were until Dejun had no eyebrow hair left. When Jaehyun didn’t reply, Dejun repeated his question.

Dropping his head in his hands, Jaehyun hesitantly replied, “There was this moment when I saw her and it was like that thing she always said? The slo-mo thing?”

Dejun’s head perked up. “You saw her in slow motion?” 

“Yeah, it was like time stopped. All I saw was her and then…” Jaehyun thought back to seeing you in a wedding dress. He changed his mind; he didn’t want to talk about his feelings. All he wanted to do was make sure opening night ran as smoothly as possible. Grabbing his white suit jacket for the top of Act One, the boy stood up in an attempt to escape his friend’s sudden peak in curiosity. “Never mind, this is ridiculous. I gotta go, Dejun.” 

“No, you’re not going anywhere until you actually confront your damn feelings,” Dejun said, shoving his friend back in his chair. “Do you like Naeun?”

There was a pause before he answered truthfully: “Yes.”

“Okay, and are your feelings for Naeun stronger than what you have for your best friend?” 

“No,” Jaehyun released another sigh as he leaned back in his chair. A hand reached up to brush through his hair before he remembered that it was gelled back in place. He dropped his hand to rub the back of his neck, not wanting to mess with his looks before places. “I was infatuated with Naeun but with her, god, she’s something else and it took me this long to realize it.”

“How do I know you’re not just saying that?” Dejun questioned, squeezing his friend’s shoulders a bit too tightly. Jaehyun thought his friend was testing him and for a good reason. If he was in Dejun’s position, Jaehyun would’ve grilled his friend, too. “How do I know you’re actually in love with her? Yes, you’re my roommate and best friend but she’s my best friend, too. I can’t let you hurt her if all you feel is something temporary. I can’t let you treat her like those other girls.”

“Because she’s The One, Dejun. I’m certain of it,” Jaehyun snapped back. “When I look at her, I see everything I’ve been searching for. It’s like I was blind for the longest time, you know? She was always just Forky to me back when I didn’t know any better. But now I see and all I see is her— her, with all her flaws. The way she hides her insecurities with her dramatic outbursts. How she picks at her cuticles when she’s nervous or how she always steals my food at home. And the way she just fits with me. I can’t explain it.”

Jaehyun didn’t even give his friend a chance to butt in. He was still rambling on with a fond smile, his mouth running a mile. “She’s been there with me since the beginning, Jun. Before I was this prince of the theatre department, she was there. She’s been there since the beginning and even when I was chasing after girls, she was there at the middle of it all, and fuck, I want to go all the way to the end with her.”

Dejun released his hold on his friend and rolled his eyes. The boy made his way to the door of the dressing room before mumbling under his breath, “God, what is with you two and giving out monologues? I swear, when this is all over, you should become playwrights.”

“What?”

“Never mind me, Jaehyun,” Dejun opened the door and gestured for Jaehyun to follow the path— the path down the hall that led to you. “What are you waiting for? Go get her, we have 30 until Joohyun calls for places!”

“Dejun, it’s much more complicated than that.”

“It’s only as complicated as you make it out to be. Just— just go and talk to her, yeah?”

Jaehyun sighed deeply as he reached your dressing room door. He knocked lightly, running through the lines he wanted to say in his head before you shouted a faint “come in.” The door squeaked open to reveal you, his best friend in the whole entire world, touching up your makeup. The best friend that he was inescapably in love with. You watched him through the mirror as he leaned against the frame with crossed arms. 

“Can we talk after the show? There’s something I need to tell you— it’s important. I don’t think I—um, I have enough time to tell you now,” Jaehyun asked, stuttering through his words. Gone was the confidence he usually bared. The only thing left in him was a scared little boy, afraid of the problem his words may cause. 

The smile he received from you did not reach your ears. “Of course,” you replied curtly before turning away from him. He noted how you were over applying your blush and fidgeting with your costume. You were doing everything in your power to avoid him. 

The tugging of your ear, the biting of your lip, the picking of your cuticles. He saw all your bad habits. You were a ball of nerves and the speaker announced it was ten minutes before places.

“Hey, Forky?”

“Yes, Jaehyun?”

“You know that I believe in you, right? Always?”

There was a twitch at the corner of your lips. “I do.”

“Good,” Jaehyun approached you with caution. You watched him from your mirror, never making direct eye contact as he came closer. He dropped a kiss on the crown on your head, relishing in the way his plush lips against your torn bandana and the lace front wig. “Break a leg, my Ella.”

He observed you through your reflection and took in how beautiful you looked in your rags. You made the rags the costume department designed for you look like riches. 

“Same goes to you, my prince,” he heard you answer in that soft tone.  Again, you had sent him to the skies and the boy was struggling to find his way back down.

When it was time to draw the curtains and light the lights for the first performance of Cinderella, it seemed like everything fell into place.  Jaehyun stared at you across the stage, falling for the way the lights illuminated your figure in that white ball gown. The bright glow brought his attention to your bright grin, that beautiful and radiant smile of yours, that shocked him to his core. 

Jaehyun locked eyes with you and suddenly, he was drowning. He was drowning in your expressive eyes. He was drowning in your overflowing love. 

It was different being across from you in front of a full audience. There was a rush that took over him whenever he saw you and it beat the flurries his heart experienced with his other leading ladies. As you said your lines with that bewitching sparkle in your eye, Jaehyun hated himself for not realizing how much he loved you sooner or how you were never playing pretend. 

But that was okay because Jung Jaehyun loved you now. He loved you in the world you made believe on stage, where he was Prince Topher and you were his Ella, and he loved you in reality where you would always be the fork to his spoon. 

Opening night went smoothly and the roaring applause I received during my final bow sent me to the moon. The way Jaehyun looked at me across the stage with eyes filled with pride and joy blasted me to places I had never been before. I became high on this feeling of being under the burning spotlights. The feeling of wearing the most intricate costume and the way his hand slid into mine for the last bow before the curtains were drawn; it was something I wanted to treasure for the rest of my life.

But with every high came a low— my low hit me when I ran into Jaehyun’s dressing room. I caught him in an embrace with Naeun who gifted my best friend with a rose. She placed a kiss on his cheek, causing his white ears to flush a deep red that rivaled the flower he held. The girl gave him a quick shove of the shoulder before heading to me. 

Her congratulatory statement went in one ear and out the other. I could barely process Naeun handing me a rose of my own before she walked out of the room, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering in her wake. She gave my best friend one more lingering look as she left and it hurt me in so many ways.

“Ready to go?” Jaehyun said, clearing his throat. “Wanna stop by the stage first? Soak in your first opening night as a lead?”

“Why the hell not?” The walk back to the stage was short. It felt different somehow.

“We did it,” I whispered.

“That we did,” he answered back. 

We walked onto the stage together and I could still hear the crowds cheering for me, giving me the standing ovation I earned. It was electrifying, the way the sparks ran through my body. It ran from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes. 

Glancing around the empty auditorium, I pondered aloud, “But do you know what sucks about it all, Jaehyun?”

“What?”

“There’s nothing worse than the feeling of not being chosen and it still hurts that I wasn’t the first choice,” I replied truthfully, “Not as much as before. But I’m learning to get over it. The casting directors saw potential in me.”

“That’s because you do have the potential to be a star. You’re practically glowing right now.” I felt his eyes trained on me, just like they were the entire time we shared the stage. 

Turning abruptly to face him, I said, “You really can’t say that to me, you know?”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it makes my heart beat against my chest and these stupid butterflies come around before I remember that you have never chosen me to be your first choice,” I glared. 

“But I do choose you,” Jaehyun pushed, his voice laced with desperation, “That’s what I was trying to tell you before you stormed off on me earlier!”

“Are you really choosing me, Jaehyun? The real me? The me that has been your best friend for years? Or are you choosing the me that shares a stage with you every night? The me that could potentially be your next whirlwind romance?” No matter how desperate he sounded, he couldn’t beat the hopelessness that was dripping from my own voice. 

“No, that’s not it at all!” his voice boomed, the sound echoing throughout the empty auditorium. 

“Then, what is it, Jung Jaehyun? Because I am tired of being second best and I’m tired of not being chosen,” I almost cried. The anguish was just taking over my body and I couldn’t make it stop. “Yes, I know some parts are not right for me but I can’t help but be hurt. And then you say that you’re choosing me? Of course, I’m going to think of it being because I’m your newest love interest on stage.”

“If you could just listen—”

Unable to stop the words from coming out, I just kept running off at the mouth. Everything I wanted to say to Jaehyun was flying out of my lips at rapid speed; I couldn’t even stop it. “I have seen you in slow motion so many times and I want to just fast forward from those moments. To speed past them so I can move on from the idea of not being yours. I refuse to be a temporary love that you lose interest in. I just want you to pick me, to choose me, and to love me, damn it— is that too fucking much to ask for? To be chosen and loved?”

While I was taking a breath to continue with my rant, Jaehyun cut me off and the words he said rattled the stage, the ground beneath my feet, and my whole entire world.“No, it’s not and you are way fucking more than that, if you just take a moment out of your godforsaken monologue and listen to me! I choose you not because you’re my leading lady but because you’re you. You’ve always been this— this incredible, breathtaking you.” 

He took one step closer and I took one step back. “And you’ve the person at my side when no one else is.” 

Every single time I would retreat, Jaehyun would follow. The boy was persistent, his brown eyes trained on me. “The one who figured out you loved me first while I was too blind to see it. You’re the fork to my spoon. We’re a set, we go together. And I was too dumb to figure out that at the end of the day, I always think about you and how no one I’ve ever been with compares to you.”

 When my back hit the wall, I was trapped. Trapped in between his arms and the way they propped themselves on either side of my face. Trapped in the haze of his brown eyes and how they dug deep into my soul. 

 “I don’t see you in slow motion— I see you in fast forward. I see you in the future, my future, walking down the aisle in white and I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. All I know is that I choose you. I will always choose you.”  

I was trapped by Jung Jaehyun and there was no escape for me. Judging by the way his eyes never let me out of his sight, there was a chance my friend didn’t want to let me go either. He wanted me to stay. 

“Jaehyun, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I love you. You’re my beginning, middle, and my end.”

“You love me? Like you’re in love with me?” Jaehyun heard you ask, like the possibility of being loved by him was so impossible. You were searching for any inkling of doubt but he made sure you couldn’t find any because you were the only thing he could see. 

Jaehyun brought a hand near your cheek. It hovered there as he hesitated to touch it to your skin until you leaned into his touch. Your cheek felt so warm in his palm and it was so comforting to have you in his hold. “I wanted to say it earlier but I was just so scared of losing you as both a lover and a friend because what if it all goes to shit? What if we go to shit and things hit the fan? I can’t lose you.” 

“But you, Jung Jaehyun, are in love with me?” you repeated as your hand cupped his own. The smile you gave him was bright enough to light up the stage. 

“Yeah, I thought I made that clear. I’m sorry, did I mumble that line?” he teased playfully, trying to coerce a giggle out of you. “Should I start the scene over?”

“No, no. I’m just—” you paused and he watched you recollect your thoughts. His glittering brown eyes were trained on you as the words processed in your head. “You love me,” you laughed in disbelief. 

Jaehyun took a step closer, his hand tentatively reaching out to stroke your face. He sighed in relief as you relaxed into his touch. “You’re my number one girl. I choose you.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing that even after all this time, I’ve always chosen you, too.”

Once those words left your lips, he couldn’t hold himself back. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Jaehyun pulled you against his chest and smashed his lips against yours. Yes, he had kissed you on multiple occasions prior to this— onstage and off— but this time was different than the rest.

 This was the first time he really kissed you after your feelings were out in the open.

The first time he kissed you and finally felt the love you harbored for so many years. Jaehyun just hoped you could sense the love he was pouring out for you, too. 

He did not want to let you go but he was struggling to breathe. You were so lovely, everything about you was so incredibly lovely, and to have you in his arms was the best feeling in the universe. Everything around him turned dark and he felt the warmth of a spotlight and the flush of your body against him. The entire world was spinning beneath his feet, his heart racing, and his lips chasing you and only you. 

Jaehyun did not understand why people did drugs— the high of being so ardently in love with another person, with you, gave him the high that he needed. 

He felt you hit his chest in an attempt to end the kiss but Jaehyun did not want to stop. A light shove to his shoulders was enough to separate his lips from yours and what a sight you were— chest panting heavily for air, lips plumped and swollen, and the prettiest set of eyes widened in shock.

“You kissed me!” you said in between pants. “Like not a stage kiss but you actually kissed me!”

“That I did, love,” Jaehyun replied cheekily, taking another step towards you. You stepped back to lean against the wall but did nothing to stop him from coming forward. “Are you gonna do something about it?” 

The look in your eyes changed after you heard his new nickname for you. It was coy. Flirty. Challenging. “Do it again, I dare you,” you whispered a bit too loudly. 

Before Jaehyun closed the distance, his eyebrow perked up at the challenge. “Gladly.”

Senior year was there before we knew it. 

Another year, another posting day. 

Dejun, Jaehyun, and I swiftly made our way down the hall to the front of the theatre department, curious to find out which roles we were given. The spring production and the final musical of our college career was Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. 

Callbacks for Belle went as smooth as ever— the chemistry between Jaehyun and I were off the charts. But why wouldn’t they be? We were together now. 

Just like any other time, the crowds gathering around the cast list and bulletin board parted immediately once they caught a glimpse of Jaehyun approaching. The only difference was that this time, he was tightly clutching my hand. 

When we arrived in front of the board, I shut my eyes before I could read the cast list. An anxious buzz flowed through my veins, tickling the tips of my fingers and toes. My boyfriend must’ve felt the twitching of my fingers or the sweat dripping off my palms. 

I felt his body shift towards me. “Want me to take a peek first, love?” Jaehyun asked as he pressed his plump lips onto the crown of my head. He nuzzled his nose into my hair, a small but sweet action that always comforted me. 

Shaking my head, I looked at him and said, “No, why don’t we look together?”

“On three?” he grinned lovingly.

“On three, you dumb spoon.”

The countdown was quick but the glance I took at the cast list was even quicker. It was so quick, I almost didn’t catch who was put into the role of Belle. Taking a double take, I let go of Jaehyun’s hand as my eyes zeroed in onto the tiny print. 

Everything around me came to a stop as I read and re-read the cast list. Everyone around me was celebrating their parts but I couldn’t hear them, they were all muted in my mind. All I could hear was the sound of my own breaths  and all I could see my name on the top of the page. 

Belle……………..Y/N The Beast……..Jung Jaehyun

“Oh my god, I got the part,” I whispered to no one in particular. Backing away from the board, I repeated the same words a little louder and it got the attention of everyone surrounding me. Before I knew it, everyone threw a congratulations my way. The cheers were loud and obnoxious but they were for me because I did it. I finally did it.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, I backed away from the blustering crowd before bumping into my boyfriend’s firm chest. Jaehyun caught me in his hold, his arms circling around my waist. He dropped his chin on my shoulder and placed a tender kiss on my temple. “Would you look at that? We’re not a ridiculous set of tableware this time.”

“No disrespect to those parts, they were awesome, but I think I like this a lot more,” I giggled, turning in his hold. 

As I circled my arms around his neck, he whispered, “Same here.”

I yanked him down into an earth-shattering kiss that sent the world spinning beneath my feet. It slowed down, speeded up, and it did everything in between. I saw flashes of yellow ball gowns, royal blue coats, and Jaehyun smiling at me gracefully across the stage. 

Jaehyun staring me down from the other end of an altar. 

I saw it all. 

If my life was a movie, then this would be the time that the screen would fade to black and show the names. Some overly poppy song would resonate through the speakers and everyone would get up from their seats and gush over the happy ending.

But it wasn’t. My life was as real as it could be and it was even better than any romantic-comedy that would ever grace the screen. 

This wasn’t the ending. 

This was the perfect beginning. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hello, my darling readers! you really didn’t have to wait that long for this release, did you? a big thank you to several people: @johtenrecs for always being my beta and for the helpful feedback, to my chaotic gc ( @smoll-tangerine, @ppangjae, @jaedore​, and @jeongvision) for listening to me complain about how i was losing it while writing this fic, to @suhpressed​ for helping me with brainstorm, and lastly, to my lovely @notnctu bc without her and our crazy idea of hosting a hannah montana collab, i wouldn’t have gotten this idea! love y’all! hope you enjoyed this and please leave feedback! uwu

TAGLIST. @yasmini24 @jaehyunnie77 @emmybyeakitty @fluffyjaes @aevizen @dearjaehyxn @yourmagnanimousholiness @jaehyvnsvalentine @keemburley @softieus @lanadreamie @lebrookestore  @notmangojuice @felixn-recs @captainsjoongs @anotherfullsun @ukiyoneo @kunrengui​ @babyyynatty​ 

© sehunniepotwrites, 2021

[heliads]

Sudden Changes (Part Two)

When you, an Erudite, accidentally stumble upon Jeanine Matthew’s plans, she forces you to transfer to Dauntless. Your only hope is to blend in, although Four seems less willing to let that happen.

part one / masterlist / part three

This first encounter sets you on edge. You hate to admit it, that barely a few minutes into your tenure at Dauntless you’re already convincing yourself it’s all a mistake, but that’s the way it is. This is probably how your life will be until the day you die- terrified over the smallest of incidents, sure that any small happening means that Jeanine Matthews will be sending an assassin your way. This is no way to live, but you’re not sure that you have a choice about it. No, you have no choices left at all.

It was either this or die outright, you remind yourself. Even this nerve-strained way of life is better than that initial bullet. At least now you have time to grow and at least pretend that you got the easy way out, right? However, you’re not sure where to go from now. Jeanine included no terms of service in her deal. In fact, the only thing she said was that you would have to choose Dauntless. Then again, you’re fairly sure that if this man, Four, found out what you’d seen, you’d be back in that same scared place where you started.

That’s why you were sent to Dauntless in the first place, isn’t it? Jeanine wanted you to keep your mouth shut. You’d either learn to live as a mindless, brainless soldier, seamlessly fitting into the ranks, or you’d die and be stuck as a washed-out factionless roaming the streets, with nothing to do and no one to listen to you. However, you’re fairly sure that she hadn’t counted on one of her own Dauntless leaders questioning your presence here. Apparently Jeanine’s agenda only extends so far as herself, although that’s no surprise to anyone who’s ever known her.

This man, Four, however, you don’t know him as well. You may know Jeanine, or at least you thought you had, but he is a complete blank to you. You could swear that he looks familiar, like you’ve seen his face before, but every time you comb your memories, searching for a name to put to the face, you can’t remember a thing. This is unfortunate, especially since remembering who Four is could mean the difference between coming face to face with another one of Jeanine’s guards or accidentally discovering someone who could be an ally to you.

Regardless of who Four is or what his intentions are, you can be sure of one thing: he knows you, or must recognize you from somewhere, and he’s not going to leave you alone anytime soon. Ever since that first meeting, when he’d stared at you like you were someone he had pushed to the farthest corners of his mind, sure that he’d never see you again, it was as if he had sworn to himself that he’d never leave you alone. Wherever you look, he is there: down the table in the mess hall, watching you spar in training, eyes locked onto your knives and targets as you throw. His presence is silent, and he’s about as likely to say anything to you as any of the other initiates, but it’s there nonetheless. You can’t help but feel unnerved. You had hoped to blend into the crowds of trainees, but Four is making that impossible.

So, you throw yourself into your training with additional fervor. If he’s going to keep watching you, you might as well make sure that everyone else is watching you as well. Target practice, both with a knife and a gun, comes surprisingly easy to you. Maybe it’s because they both rely on taking careful aim, having perfect balance between what the eye sees and what the mind knows to be true. It’s about as close as you’ll ever get to Erudite in this dark corner of the city that the madmen call Dauntless.

Hand-to-hand combat, on the other hand, is not your forte. Not at all. You get the drills, sure, and it’s a good workout, but every time you’re put up against another opponent it’s like you’re missing some key part of a melody, repeating the same choppy chords while everyone else is improvising an entire symphony. Your punches are solid and sure, exactly what you’d practiced, but you can’t seem to quite put the pieces together the way the other initiates can.

Maybe it’s because you’re not used to this, the abandonment of all rational thought. As you watch your opponents, you notice one common thread among all those who win: they seem to run on pure adrenaline, and even when they study their opponent’s thought patterns, they don’t get lost in their heads, moving only with the speed of their fists. That’s where you’re lacking, you suppose, you’re still trying to cling to your past. If you let yourself truly fall, you might find something other than just the rocks at the bottom.

It’s after one of these days, when you just managed to eke out a victory over a girl who’s one place away from the bottom of the rankings, that Four finally approaches you. He walks next to you, arms folded across his chest. “You know, I figured that for someone who’s so good at rifles and knives, you’d be a little better in actual fighting.” You scoff. “Thanks for the kind words. I’ll cherish them always.”

Four chuckles. “Oh, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just wondering why someone who’s supposed to be the best of the best back in Erudite would transfer away, and especially to a place that she doesn’t even seem to like.” You freeze slightly, then keep walking, hoping to cover up your slight lapse. Judging by the sharp look in Four’s eyes, though, he hasn’t missed a thing. “Maybe I wanted a challenge.”

Four raises his eyebrows. “I can’t help but doubt that. Why are you really here?” You weren’t expecting him to confront you like this, not here and not now. He isn’t dancing around the issue, not at all. You weren’t anticipating such a direct question, and you don’t have a solid alibi lined up. Instead, you deflect, hoping he’ll leave well enough alone, although you doubt you’ll be that lucky. “Why are you so interested in my motives? Don’t you have an entire other group of initiates to question?”

Four shrugs. “All of them make sense. All of them look like they’re happy to be here. You, though, you keep backing down. You’ll be in the middle of a fight, about to win, and then something comes over you, like you regret being here at all. You’re holding yourself back, and I want to know why.” This takes you by surprise. You knew he was trying to figure you out, but you weren’t expecting such an accurate appraisal. “We all have our bad habits. I still can’t figure out why mine is worth your trouble.”

Four stops walking, forcing you to stop next to him. “You’re interesting, Y/N. I saw you before, back in Erudite. I don’t think you would have left there for a second, and you don’t like you entirely want to be here now. You could have made a last minute switch, but that doesn’t seem like you. Either you’re making a point of trying to never be true to yourself, or there’s something going wrong.”

He walks away now, leaving you stunned and staring after him. You can’t help but flash back to the look in Jeanine’s eyes when she’d watched you walk away, remembering the cold glare of a woman who would be willing to kill anyone who got in her way. If you confess everything to Four now, if you tell him what truly went down, what would happen to you? Would Jeanine find out? Would she let you live?

As it turns out, you’re not sure that you’re going to have much of a choice. You manage to scrape through the first stage of training, especially due to your skill with a gun and a knife. You were able to improve your physical fighting skills after you picked up on Four’s silent hint to be more aggressive and just go for it, and you find yourself comfortably within the upper half of the initiates. Not bad for someone who’s not supposed to be here at all.

The next stage of training, on the other hand, seems even worse than the first one. When Eric and Four explain what your fear landscape is and how you’ll be traversing it, a silent storm of dread rises up inside of you. You know what your worst fear is- being found out, watching one of Jeanine’s guards place the barrel of a guard in front of your skull. You have no doubt that it will show up in your fear landscape, and you have no idea how to explain it away without revealing yourself. You’ve been thinking of potential alibis for days, but none of them make sense.

So, when you walk in the door to your first fear landscape training session and see Four waiting for you, you can’t help but groan inwardly. There’s no getting out of this, is there? Four will know the truth, you’ll be in even worse danger than before. When Four places the needle in your neck, he must sense the tension radiating out from your every movement, because he reaches down and takes your hand. “You’ll be fine, honestly. This entire stage of training will take place in your head. From what I’ve heard, that’s your strongest suit.” Then you’re pulled under the tow of the drug, and you can spare no more thoughts towards the comforting look in his eyes as he looks down at you.

You progress through your first few fears without too much difficulty. The last one, the most difficult one to face, is the one you’d been dreading all along. The scene shifts into a familiar hall at Erudite, the one where the windows progressively disappear, as do the cameras. If only you’d noticed the way that the building practically called out for you to turn around and run. Maybe then you’d have made it out without all of this. Maybe then you’d still be at Erudite, with no idea of the thrills of life at Dauntless.

A new thought flies into your head, one calling for you to run. If you turn around now, you won’t have to see the scene over again. You wouldn’t have to know any of this, you could make it out. However, your footsteps continue down the hall, carrying towards the open door that you know will lead to the large room full of Jeanine’s plans. You’re already here, you might as well see the whole thing through.

So, you keep walking, and when the ceiling opens up before you to reveal the room you’ve seen so many times before, whenever you close your eyes, you don’t run. When the guards come over, pointing guns at your head, you don’t back down for a second. Instead, you let your fists fly out as you’ve been taught, and you take them down without another thought towards the matter. This is what you’ve been learning all along- not to regret what might have been, but to fight. You’ve always been fighting, you realize. Maybe Dauntless provided you with the opportunity to make it all count for something.

You grab one of the guards’ guns, and when you turn back around, Jeanine is in front of you. Her voice is cajoling, as if you’re one of her students again. “Y/N, what is this? Don’t be ridiculous, put the gun down.” You shake your head. “You can’t scare me any longer. You might have forced my path, but I’ve made it my own. You won’t control my thoughts any longer.” You know the simulation, you know what you’re expected to do. All the same, when your finger closes on the trigger, you can’t help but look away, unable to stare your mentor in the face as you point the gun her way.

You wake back up in the Dauntless room, gunshot echoing in your ears. Four is staring at you with unabashed horror. “That’s why you left? You found out something that Jeanine Matthews wanted to cover up?” You nod, wrapping your arms around you as if the meager warmth can stave off everything that you’d seen. “I wasn’t supposed to be there that day. She gave me a choice: I could either transfer here or die by the end of the night.”

You’re not sure why you’re telling Four everything, not now. You’ve been so afraid of letting anyone know anything about you, and here you are, spilling your entire heart out to Four like he’ll be willing to watch over it for you. However, he doesn’t look like he’s about to rat you out to the Erudite guards. Instead, he’s shaking his head softly, his face wrought with something almost like guilt. “I just- do you regret leaving? You were meant to have a strong future in Erudite, to do things that no one else had even dreamed about. Now you’re here, a soldier for the rest of your life. If you could set things right, would you?”

Your attention snaps back to him. Those are dangerous words, and he knows that. Even entertaining that thought would mean rising up against Jeanine, against Erudite and the other factions. So, you stand up to face him, unwilling to commit to anything until you know Four’s true motives. “It depends on what setting things right would mean. This is a tricky city, you know. Anything anyone says could be taken the other way.”

Four sighs. “Right. I should clarify. This city, this faction system, is flawed. You know that. There are people with too much power over everyone else, and the factions don’t account for everyone.” You stare at him. “You’re talking about the Divergents.” Four hesitates, confidence wavering as if he’s about to make the worst decision of his life. “I’m one of them.” You shake your head softly. “Even saying that could get you killed. Why are you trusting me with this?”

Four steps forward, taking your hand. “I want you to remember everything you saw in that room. If Jeanine was willing to kill one of her best students, she must be covering up something big. If you can tell me everything you remember about what was in that room, we might be able to have some leverage. Leverage can get you anywhere in this city.” You nod slowly, realizing what he’s saying. “It could make sure you stay alive, even if your secret comes out.”

Four inclines his head. He looks back to you know, eyes seeming to swallow you whole. “Will you do it? Will you work with me?” You give him a half smile. “I’m not sure that I have a choice. I’ve been running ever since I got here.” Four shakes his head. “That’s not an answer. Y/N, we could both be killed for this. If you want out, I won’t judge you for it.” Your smile broadens. You didn’t expect this generosity, not from him. “I’ll do it, Four. Honestly. I won’t back down now.” Four smiles in return, the expression almost foreign on him. It makes his eyes soften, the hard glares of a soldier gone from him. To be honest, it makes your own gaze stray on him for a little longer, unwilling to put away this picture of him in your head. “When do we begin?”

ty luna once again

divergent tag list: someone who is way too cool to be one of my fears @underc0vercryptid​

[simplemoonk]

Guess who writes an Erwin/Reader fic? I’m dropping it in here and went to hide. 

Impact - Chapter 1 (also read on Ao3)

The velvet cushions were soft under my body as I lied down on the couch. Eyes closed and my dress hiked up to reveal a generous portion of my left leg. I could feel the guards trying their best to avoid looking at the naked flesh and failing. The room was hot and I was getting bored. Thankfully, it wasn’t long after I heard the footsteps echoing through the corridors beyond the door. The guards opened it up at the exact time he reached the threshold. 

I straightened up on the couch, flashing a mischievous smirk at him. His eyes shone the way they did when he sees me.

“My beauty,” he said as he opened both his arms upon his sides. I tried to stand up as gracefully as I could and walked over his open arms. 

“You made me wait so much,” I said, hugging him around the middle and using the tone of voice I always did when spoke to him. Girlish and sultry. He circled his right arm around my waist and used the left one to motion at his assistant. 

“I got a gift for you.” His assistant lends him an expensive-looking little box. Navy blue eyes watching my facial expressions intently as he took a step back. The box was opened to reveal a necklace with five big red rubies, and the expression on my face was genuine. Awed, baffled, and a little thrown away by how much money this man had possessed. He smiled, satisfied with whatever he saw on my face, and took the necklace to his hand. 

“You are going to escort me tonight on the warming ball. Nothing less is worthy of you.” He said as he turned me around to put the necklace on my throat. My ankle-length black dress floated around my light. Well, being the arm candy of Lord Harold V. Bolton had those sorts of advantages, I guessed. 

I turned around to look at him as he was done with the clasping of the heavy necklace, caressing one of the rubies with the tip of my finger. 

“It is so beautiful, thank you,” I said as I push a white lock of hair out of his face. He was old, yet tall and fit. He was a handsome man. 

“You are very much welcome,” he said and pecked my lips. His assistant couched a little as he was looking down, red-faced. 

“Sir, are you ready to leave?” 

“Let’s get it over with. We have still one more party the next week.” Harold secured his arm around me before pecking me on the lips one more time. 

The guards opened the giant doors as we entered the giant ballroom. It was clear that Harold didn’t avoid spending any money. The giant hall was blended with gold and cream colors, lit with hundreds of candles and torches. Alcohol was flowing like a river of water, and waiters were loaded with heavy tries filled with more food that could feed a family for a month. Especially after the fall of Wall Maria.

I smiled brightly, nails biting down my palm, and pressed my lips to Harold’s cheek as we went our separate ways. He needed to chitchat with all the important men within the hall, including the consultants of the King and military commanders, the latter of which were invited for meeting and greeting since the ball next week would pretty much be all about them. I grabbed a glass of champagne on my way, as I had to entertain the wives and partners. 

“Oh my dear,” I heard the wife of Lord Flemington, a consultant the King, coming toward me, pushing everyone that dared to get on her way with her plump body. 

“Lady Flemington!” I said cheerfully as I made a quick curtsy.   

“Ah, you look, lovely dear,” she glimpsed at my necklace quickly. Her eyes narrowed as her lips curved upwards in a cynic smirk. 

“It is your beautiful eyes that see the beauty.” 

“How are you doing my darling?” she asked with her baritone tone and continued without waiting for an answer, “Have you met my niece?” 

A young girl with caramel-colored hair took a break from glaring at my necklace and smiled beside her aunt. 

“No, I wasn’t fortunate enough,” I said and smiled at the girl. She checked me out without much effort to be subtle. A smirk, very much similar to her aunt formed on her face. 

“My name is Rose – Rose Flemington,” she said with a tone that was obviously demanding respect. 

“It was so nice to meet you, Miss Flemington,” I curtsy lightly again. 

“Likewise,” but that little smirk told me otherwise. 

“I have heard you start… staying with Lord Bolton, dear,” Mrs. Flemington asked as she started fanning herself with her infamous giant fan. 

“I’m visiting him temporarily,” 

“Are you his niece?” Rose asked, faking an interest since she knew I was not. As a response, I laughed merrily, throwing my head back. 

“I’m his friend,” the laughter was still present in my voice. She and her aunt exchanged a quick look. 

“Well, I would say a very dear friend. Is that necklace a gift from Lord Bolton?” Mrs. Flemington asked as she snapped her fan in her palm. I touched the ruby in the middle gently. 

“Ah, yes he is so very generous is not he?” 

“Yes, he is generous man,” Mrs. Flemington said and then murmured under her breath, “he used to be a dignified one as well.”

Rose was trying to hide her giggle into her palm when I first noticed the air around me changed. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on their ends. I knew the feeling. I was being watched. As if to glance around the hall, I turned my head to the side but whoever was watching me was already lost within the crowd. The Flemingtons left my side as they took offense to my distraction. 

I continued to wander through the hall, making small talk with noisy noblewomen, but the feeling stayed with me throughout of all. The pickling in my neck, the goosebumps on my upper arms. I also came to realize there should be more than one person watching over me. But whenever I got close to get a glimpse of them they disappeared into the shadows lurking around the corners. I watched Harold for a while. He was chatting enthusiastically, a glass of sparkly champagne in hand and a lit cigar in mouth. He caught me staring and rose his glass toward me, the movement gathering attention from the other noblemen around him as they all saluted me with their glasses as well. I smiled and walked toward him. Pretending not to notice how almost every man around him watching me approach. Something wicked shone in Harold’s eyes. I knew he liked knowing how everyone around him knew I was his. 

“I will powder my nose; I will be back in a second,” I said to him, putting a hand on his chest.

“Don’t make me wait,” he said goodheartedly. I waved him over, making my way out of the hall. Toward the doors, my eyes met with the eyes of the Commander of Military Police, Nile Dok. After looking at my face for a second he slightly bowed his head in acknowledgment. I smiled at him brightly despite the anxiety boiling in my stomach.

Immediately after I set my foot through the threshold of the ballroom, two guards started trailing after me as they always did when I change places. Nick and Kia. 

I took a deep, calming breath to slow down my hammering heart. 

My sweaty palm hovering over the slit of my dress, brushing lightly against the dagger I kept bounded around my leg. The air was tense and thick with anticipation. We were almost halfway to my bedroom. That was when I felt them move. 

Pulling the dagger out of its place in a flash, I circled back. Ready to take any blow Nick or Kia was about to deal. But to my surprise, it never came. Without any warning, more men hurled out of the dark corners, where they should have been hiding. Two of them tackled a surprised Nick and Kia to the ground with force, making their weapons fly across the hall. I stand still in shock as the men kept struggling, yelling, and trying to fight back. 

Thanks to the torchlights attached securely on the walls, a shadow was revealed onto the ground, coming behind me. I turned around in a heartbeat, the pointy side of my dagger digging slightly on the soft skin of my attacker’s throat. His arm was restraining me to dig it any deeper. His own knife was pointed to my own, but unlike me, he avoided sticking it to my throat. A tall man with perfectly combed blond hair. I could swear I have seen him before somewhere. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” my opponent spoke and despite his expressionless face, I could see his surprise by my sudden action in his eyes. 

“Says the man who had a knife against my throat,” I deadpanned. Immediately he lowered his weapon. 

“My apologies. It was for self-defense” he eyed the dagger still pointed at his throat. Suddenly I have remembered where I knew him. 

I heard the footsteps echoing through the hall at a fast pace. Turning around I saw the men Erwin Smith, the Commander of Survey Corps who happened to ‘save’ my life, brought with himself successfully pinned my struggling guards down. 

Three military police soldiers that were attending the ball came out running. They glanced at the scene with horrified faces but to their credits, they collected themselves up rather quickly. 

“Are you alright, miss?” Finn, a tall brunet from the MP, asked while eyeing the towering Commander behind me. 

“I – I’m,” the stutter on my part wasn’t an act. Other MPs knelt down beside the guards who at the end understood they weren’t get away with it and stopped their fighting. 

“Oi, you,” the raven-haired man tackled Nick down called out Finn. I recalled him as being labeled as humanity’s strongest soldier by the civilians. Great.

“Go and alert Burton. He needs to come here immediately.” 

Finn glimpsed at me briefly and turned to do exactly that when he saw I approved with a slow blink of my eyes. 

“Commander,” Gerald, another MP, gave a salute to Smith, “What exactly are you doing here?”

“One of my soldiers overhears the Miss’s guards have some ill intentions regarding her. It was very late notice, and unless we act quickly it might be too late.”

“With all due respect, you should let the Military Police know,” Gerald said through gritted teeth. 

“Were you not listening or are you just that dense? The man just said there was no time,” the short man with raven hair snapped. Gerald turned toward him with a hard look on his eyes, opening his big mouth. 

“I think I need to sit down.” I interrupted before he could say anything, wobbling on my feet. The commander’s warm hand grabbed me from my underarm and he guided me to a nearby ottoman. Soon after I was sat securely, new footsteps were echoing the halls once again. Harold came in a rush, face pale and hands shaking. 

“Connor!” he uttered my name urgently. Sitting beside me, and hugging me tightly to his side. I saw Nile came in a rush as well. He checked me out quickly, and when he made sure that I was okay, turned toward Commander Smith. 

“Just what the hell happened here?”

I listened as Erwin Smith repeated how the events unfold. How he heard about the assassination but couldn’t afford to lose any time to alert the others around. How he took his most trusted two soldiers, Mike and Levi he said, with him to investigate. Harold was drawing soothing circles around my back as Nile and other MPs listened. My attackers had already led away in handcuffs, bruised faces, and even more bruised egos. The mansion was searched but to no avail. One of the guards, who was on watch at the back door reported a black carriage waited but the moment Nick and Kai were boarded to an official MP carriage, it took off. There were no other clues. 

Nile took a few steps closer to the ottoman Harold and I were sitting. 

“Lord Burton, please allow me to leave two of my most trusted soldiers here for extra protection of the Miss. At least until we figured out who is behind this attempt.” 

“The soldiers who were too late, Commander?” Harold asked through gritted teeth. His hand stopping their motions on my back. Nile shot a side-eye look at Finn and Gerald, his unpleasantness with the situation was clear. 

“I would feel safer Harold,” I said as I clasped his hand within mine. He turned to me. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I will assign my best guards to you,” 

“But – what about you?” 

“Don’t worry about me,” he said smiling and pressing his lips to the side of my head. 

“My lord, the whole house searched. It is safe.” Another guard walked toward us to inform us. 

“Thank you,” he said before helping me up. We bid our goodnights and thank yous to the soldiers present. As I passed by I looked straight in the eye of Erwin Smith, and even though it was very brief I saw how taken aback he was by the venom of my expression.  

********************************************

A week passed by since the ‘incident’. A week that I couldn’t sleep well at night of how tense and stressed I had been during the day. A week everyone around me had blamed it on the incident how pale I looked and how little I ate. A week of tiptoeing around, listening to footsteps as I searching places that I wasn’t supposed to. A week of a total pain  my ass. 

My torture was continuing as I was walking around in the Military Fund Raiser Ball Harold was throwing. Many familiar faces were in the crowd. Some, the ones that were the most important ones, especially for the night, nodding at me subtly whenever I caught their eyes. I tried to take comfort from that. 

Everything is okay.

I kept saying that in my head, over and over. Harold was chatting with Premier Dhalis Zachary. Nile was circling the ballroom. He caught my eye for a second and tried to smile, though I could say he was just as nervous as I was. It was more crowded than the last week since Harold had maximized the security. Lady Flemington was waving me over to go near her as I saw a group of military police entered the ballroom. My breathing got heavier as they marched toward Harold Burton. Everyone’s eyes were following their every move. Premier took a few steps back. 

The soldier, Gerald, stood right in front of Harold.

“Lord Burton, you are under arrest for malversation, prostitution, and withholding civilians without their permission…” Gerald was reading Burton’s rights as something caught my eye among the crowd. Perfectly combed blond hair. Baby blue eyes that I could saw the remarkableness of them regardless of the distance between us. He was wearing a suit that was similar to the one he had worn last week. I didn’t take my eyes off of his as Burton was led away and all the remaining uniformed MPs turned toward me. I could feel everyone in the ballroom now was staring at me, shocked by the unraveling events, and continued to gawk, as they kept unraveling. Lady Flemington had a hand on her chest and a smile that she tried to contain as she deemed I must be in trouble as well. From the periphery of my eye, I saw Finn came to stand close to me. A green cloak folded neatly on his hands. 

I watched as the Commander of the Survey Corps knitted his eyebrows together. I assumed he had been known about the assassination from the beginning, probably days before the ball. He was trying to make a good impression on the Corps so that Harold would donate more than he was planning initially tonight. To the legion that harbored the soldiers who had saved his precious sweetheart. And even if I was wrong that that wouldn’t be the case, and all Erwin Smith had been trying to do was to protect me, it still didn’t make up for all the troubles he caused me last week. It was very petty but I couldn’t help the smug smirk forming on my face. I took great pleasure from his baffled expression. 

I turned toward Finn and looked him down. 

“The whole mansion was searched, captain. All belongings of Lord Burton were seized for further investigation.” 

“Thanks, Finn,” I said and took the cloak out of his hand. As I tossed the green cloak that was embroidered with the unicorn representing the military police, the uniformed MPs saluted me in perfect harmony. Eyes shone with pride. 

I gave out a long breath as the tension finally left my body.      

[eunsoyi]

dear moon

kpop songfic series #1: bokuto koutarou

warning: this is a bit long lol & angsty

dear moon, my moon

i can’t get any closer

like the moon i can’t reach

even with fast-paced walking

"i’m sorry." he muttered and lowered his head. i smiled sadly and brushed his hand with my fingers. my chest was burning in pain, as if it was going to explode any time soon. but i didn’t cry. i didn’t have the strength to do so. i kissed his knuckle and replied, "it’s okay, koutarou."

the next day, i did not show up at the stadium, much to my parents’ surprise. "aren’t you going to support your best friend?" they asked. i shook my head and covered my body with my blanket, pretending to be asleep. every bit of person in my school is probably there right now, cheering for fukurodani. no, they’re cheering for bokuto kotarou, the volleyball club’s ace, a volleyball superstar, my best friend.

my best friend who just rejected me.

i gathered the strength to stand up and open the television and at least watch the game from the comfort of my own living room. i stared at it for a few minutes until i heard the words "fukurodani’s ace does it again! an amazing straight shot!" as the camera pans to his jumping backside.

"he’s going to be a big hit soon, don’t you think, y/n?" my mother asked. i just nodded in response as i felt tears form in my eyes.

oh moon, like moon

why won’t you go away?

i try to turn away and run

but you’re like the moon that follows me

i sighed as i texted ‘i’m doing fine’ to my parents for the nth time this week. my college roommate kept laughing at me for having overprotective parents, and i just responded with a deadpan chuckle. two years into university and i already want to quit if not for the hefty amount of money that my family is paying for my tertiary education.

"bokuto beam!"

i stopped myself from looking at my roommate’s laptop. i’ve been hearing his name ever since we graduated high school, and it’s like a noise that frustratingly kept ringing in my ear to the point where i want to cut it off. my roommate was a big msby fan, and from what i’ve heard, kotarou had been scouted and became a professional player for that team.

not that i care.

every after a stressful and tiring day, she’d pop in one of msby’s games and squeal like a hungry pig. "you can use earphones, you know?" i said with a hint of annoyance in my voice that i failed to suppress.

"jeez, okay." she glared at me and finally, the room was at peace. but i couldn’t shake off hearing his name from the muffled speakers of her earphones, so i decided to take a breather.

the august night was cold, as expected, since fall is approaching rather rapidly for my liking. i sat down on one of the benches at the park in front of my dorm building and gazed at the stars.

i hated the stars.

despite being so numerous, they look so terribly lonely. the distance humans see between them was a ruse, as they were literally light years apart, a distance none of us can really fathom.

"y/n?"

you,

is it coincidence?

i jumped up immediately and locked eyes with a familiar white-haired boy, wearing a big jacket and a sports bag clung on his body.

"koutarou.." i managed to squeak out.

the moment we met eyes,

"it really is you." he smiled and gave me a hug. the hug was very brief for me to react, but i can still feel his arms linger on my back. i felt even more pathetic than i did when i confessed to him that night.

"yeah. i heard you’re doing well." i smiled, sat back down, and ushered him to sit beside me to which he happily obliged.

i heard a low voice

talking to me

"i am." he whispered. his eyes reflected the night sky, and they were the most beautiful things i’ve ever seen. as i looked deeper, i realized they were hollow, dark, very different from what his fans have been seeing. it was almost empty. lonely, even.

my hatred for the stars grew.

oh moon, my moon

i’m not trying to hold you

i know you’re too big for me to hold

i rarely saw koutarou after that. we finally had each other’s contact details after two years of not seeing each other, and he has been constantly texting me, but i haven’t given him a decent reply.

"what’s keeping you from doing so?" akaashi keiji, one of my high school friends and kotarou’s right-hand man, asked as we were eating out for ramen one night.

"i don’t know." i mumbled and twirled my noodles, msby versus another team i don’t know booming on the restaurant television.

"you’re still hung up about that night? i thought you’ve moved on." keiji raised his eyebrow.

"i have."

"then just properly talk to him."

"i can’t."

"why not?"

i sighed and crossed my arms, looking at the television which showed koutarou’s joyful cheer as he scored a point against his opponent.

"i’m not good enough."

the next week, i found koutarou sitting on the same bench i sat the day we met again. when he spotted me, he gave me the biggest, brightest, almost blinding smile i’ve ever seen.

"why are you here? aren’t you busy?" i asked while sitting down beside him. he chuckled. "i’m a volleyball player. the only thing i do is train and play."

i giggled. "fair point."

we talked for a good hour with canned coffee in one hand and a hot pack on the other. i did not pay attention to the cold, october air. the only thing i could see was the man beside me, radiating the brightest energy i ever felt, and the view of the empty park.

if only time would stop, and we’d stayed like that forever.

oh moon, my moon

i’m not trying to have you.

everything went by so smoothly, i did not have time to think things through. it became unspoken tradition between the two of us to meet in that park every weekend and he’d treat me to canned coffee, much to my dismay.

“don’t you get paid for being a professional athlete? why is it always canned coffee?” i jokingly said. he frowned. “isn’t spending time with me enough?”

yes. it was more than enough. i wanted to yell that out to him, but i couldn’t. i rolled my eyes in response and pretended to be annoyed at the canned coffee.

“y/n..” he said in such a serious voice. i hummed in reply, gulping down the drink in my hand. “do you still like me?”

i stopped myself from spitting out the stupidly sweet liquid in my mouth. i coughed, choking on my drink. “what?”

“i like you, y/n. a lot. i realized this when i saw you again.”

i did not respond and stared at the ground. my mind was blank. what should i say? what was i supposed to say? i haven’t thought about this, at all.

“can we date?” he broke the silence.

in hindsight, i shouldn’t have said yes.

the fact that you’re so dazzling

is because i’m too dark of a night

agreeing to date bokuto koutarou was a mistake.

we decided that i’d move in to his apartment, to which i happily did. the first few months were okay. we did the things couples usually did: kiss, hold hands, go on dates, whatever there is to name. however, despite being his girlfriend, i did not attend any of his games even if he forced me to. i told him that i’m not a fan of crowds, and i assured him that i am supporting him from our apartment, and he just let me be.

on our first year of dating, i decided to go to one of his games as a surprise.

i was sitting on the bleachers, blending in with the tremendous amount of fangirls and volleyball fanatics in the crowd. after the game, i whipped out a box of homemade chocolates and the bouquet of flowers that i bought and tried to approach him, but before he even noticed my presence, he was surrounded with different types of people: journalists, agents, managers, teammates, fangirls, fanboys, children and elderly alike are asking for his autograph and his picture.

i left without saying a word.

after that day, i got intensely busier. i prepared for my thesis, i was stressing myself with different laboratory subjects, and i got hired as an intern in a research lab. koutarou, on the other hand, kept getting commercial deals and busied himself with tournaments and games. we barely had time to see each other, and when we did, we’d sit in silence, a silence so deafening it almost made me go crazy. whenever i’d see him, his eyes would be hollow, the same eyes that were presented to me when i first saw him again.

i attempted to work things out, if there were actually things that needed working out. but we both couldn’t find the right time to do so. it was either he or i who’d go home immensely exhausted and go straight to sleep.

the relationship was going nowhere.

is it coincidence?

on your white face,

“koutarou, can we talk?” i finally said once he got home.

“i’m very tired, y/n. can we do this tomorrow?”

this conversation again. i was honestly so sick of those words. i kept my calm and tugged the sleeve of his shirt.

“please?”

he sighed, dropped his sports bag, and looked at me in the eye. “what?”

“this relationship.. it’s..” i stammered, trying to find the right words to say.

“it’s getting pretty exhausting, huh?” he smirked and leaned on the doorframe.

there’s a shadow stain

that doesn’t suit you

“wait.. what?”

“i’m tired, y/n. goodnight.” koutarou whispered, kissing my forehead and headed towards the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

i’m waving

it’s how i call you

there’s a loner here

who resembles you a lot

a week later, kotarou and i broke up.

i asked why. i knew the answer, i just had to hear it from him.

“i was lonely.”

i smiled sadly. “i was, too.”

he gave me a week to clear out my things in his apartment, and to be frank, that was the most stagnant yet most painful week of my life.

i was wrong about him in so many ways.

in the years i’ve known him, i’ve looked at him like a star, more specifically, like the sun. he was so warm and bright that it made me frustrated. i thought i was nothing like him. i thought we lived in two very different worlds: him living in a place of happiness and stardom while i lived somewhere damp and boring.

but the times he showed me the real him, the bokuto koutarou behind closed doors, those empty eyes..

we were two peas in a pod.

instead of making each other happy, we were each other’s catalyst to our own descent.

i gave him one last kiss on the cheek and bid him farewell. i moved back to my dorm, much to my roommate’s surprise. “hey, y/n, did ya miss me?” she cheekily remarked.

“you wish.”

i wished that were the reason.

i met up with keiji very soon in our usual ramen shop, and i didn’t even need to tell him what happened. he found out through kotarou. apparently, he was actually planning to break up with me months before but couldn’t find the courage to do so.

“you know, it’s a waste.” keiji said, slurping his noodles.

“what is?” i asked, tilting my head in confusion.

“i honestly thought the two of you were perfect for each other.”

i sighed. “that was actually the opposite of what i was thinking.”

keiji looked at me with those pitying eyes that i hated so much. “are you okay?”

i’m not doing so well

“i’ll be fine.”

my only moon

as much as i can’t reach you

till the night grows deep

keep that silence with the white light

i stared at my thesis once more, which was binded and published. i felt tears welling up my eyes. my roommate hugged me, yelling and crying that she’s proud of me and whatnot. my parents who were on video call were sobbing as well. my phone notifications were blowing up with different message of congratulations.

i finally graduated. my thesis finally got published. i am finally an employee in the research lab i worked as an intern in. my family called me lucky for being so successful early on. i disagreed and just laughed it off.

that night, my roommate celebrated by buying beer for me as a treat. we stayed up all night, laughing and drinking. she got too drunk and finally fell asleep. i immediately went to get some blankets and pillows to tuck her in the couch.

“congratulations msby black jackals for winning the spring tournament!”

i stopped in my tracks. i didn’t realize she was playing another volleyball game in the time we were talking. i found myself staring at kotarou’s cheering figure. i closed my eyes, trying to suppress my tears.

i took the remote and turned the television off.

so i won’t sleep again tonight.

this was the first time i ever cried while writing. dear moon is my favorite song that was written by iu (i suggest listening to her version of the song bc it’s so good as well). hope you all liked this despite the angst!

[unavenged-robin]

Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow

or, the one where after a long, long time the Batman and The Red Hood meet on a rooftop. 

(Also on AO3 bc this stuff is long)

-

He had known from the very start of this particular mission that there would be very little need of secrecy involved, but the years of training under Batman and the League had shaped the way his body moved in such a deep manner that it was just too unnatural not to try to blend in with the shadows around him. Instead than controlling that impulse, it would be easier to go in the opposite way and make himself known; he could do it too: after all the Red Hood has not a common sight in Blüdhaven for some years now, but he isn’t a secret either and criminals usually have a long memory.

He still finds himself hesitating. And it’s not because of the Batmobile approaching on the street just across from the building he’s currently on top, no. Batman knows he’s here, it’s a legitimate assumption that he’s always aware of the Red Hood’s movements. He finds that he doesn’t mind it that much. Before, when he was still a kid, that constant surveillance had bothered him like nothing else had, but in time he’d got used to it. Now their paths had been severed for too long for it to be a problem or even a nuisance anymore. It’s just a reminiscence of that what was once done out of love and is now done out of suspect, fear, maybe anger. He, himself, had stopped caring a long time ago, he just finds it sad that the old man could not let it go.

Several floors beneath him, in the yard outside the antique shop he's keeping his eye on, three masked men start moving the crates from the storehouse into the back of a black van. The man he's here for tonight hasn't shown up yet, but he isn’t surprised about that, Owain Dorsey had a reputation for being a hard one to locate, and as much as it pains him to admit it, hearing about this operation was more of a stroke of luck than the result of months of hard research. Luck was also a debatable term in this case, since he would have very gladly avoided coming back on the continent, let alone on this very city. Sure, Gotham would’ve been worse, but given the circumstances, not even that much so.

He picks up the binoculars from the floor and scans the west side once more. Batman would come in from the north, unless he decides to go around the store, in which case he would have to find a way to distract him long enough to make sure he wouldn't go after Dorsey before him. He has no reason to believe Batman knows anything about his operation, but better be careful anyway: he knows there are other eyes around, and he knows they are no longer on his side (if they ever were, that’s it).

He checks the gun strapped to his left leg, making sure that the holster is unfastened, then he runs his gloved fingers along the edge of the katana at his other side. He’s not nervous about having to use either of them, but he’s not looking forward the discussion he’s going to have with Talia if any of this goes wrong. Not to mention the one he’s going to have with the asshole that is the new Demon’s Head, who’s never agreed with this plan to start with.

He sucks in a sharp breath, closes his eyes for the split of a moment and, finally, he jumps.

*

Batman gets there before him, which was somehow expected because if there’s a talent he can recognize to the man, it’s his timing: never there when you most need him, always in your way at the least opportune moment. He’s not too worried, though. Tonight should not be hard, there will be no killing involved and no moral conflict about what needs to be done. What he needs is one single information, and a bit of violence was never frowned upon too much, not even when he was a kid and the adults around him were so, so busy settling an example for him.

The back of the van spews out three more masked goons the exact moment Batman lands in the middle of the yard, and he smiles behind his helmet, looking at their guns. One of them is holding a gold plated Desert Eagle, and that’s what he was looking for: the stupid and very distinctive little quirk that had made Dorsey instantly identifiable, linking him to a series of robberies targeting antique shops and jewellery stores.

Batman doesn’t even look at him as they fight back to back against the small group of thieves. He tries to hold back enough not to cause serious damage, but all in all he doesn’t worry too much about the punches he’s landing: as long as the gun stays where it is, Batman shouldn't have anything to complain about. He keeps an eye on Dorsey, but doesn’t show too much interest in him either, merely knocking him back a few times.

“On your left”, Batman growls, and he ducks immediately, his body so trained he doesn’t even give himself the time to discuss the order. It upsets him a little that the instinct to obey that voice is still so strong in him, like it hadn't been years since he'd worn the Robin's costume, like all the blood and betrayal that has happened between then and now means nothing just because they’re together again. And he hates that a part of him really believes that, he hates that this feels so familiar it makes his heart hurt, he hates finding out that he had missed this.

“Think about yourself”, he growls back, and he takes advantage of the clumsy attack of one of his opponents to grab the man by the arm, twirl around on his feet, and throw him against Batman's back. Low blow, he knows, but if the old man hadn't seen it coming, it's not his fault.

Batman goes down on one knee for just one moment, and that’s all he needs. He grabs Dorsey by the collar of his jacket, pulls out his grappling hook and shoots it above their heads. They’re both gone in a matter of seconds, and Batman shouting behind him only adds some sweetness to his victory. He won’t be able to follow them right away, not with five other men trying to keep him on the ground.

He lands on the roof of the building that had served him as a point of observation all night long. The bag he had purposely left open is still there, sporting a few tools that would come quite handy in the unlikely event this discussion should not go down the way he wants it to. He makes sure Dorsey understands this by throwing him down on the concrete just next to the bag, his nose almost touching one of the sharp tips poking out of it.

“Where is it?”, he asks, the helmet warping his voice into a metallic rasp.

The mask on Dorsey’s face is long gone: small eyes stuck into a lump of fat vaguely shaped like a human face look up at him, bloodshot and scared.

“I don’t know what-”

He doesn’t give him the time to finish and pushes his right foot right into the man’s trachea long enough for the man's lips to take on a vague bluish tinge, as Dorsey wriggles underneath him and tries, without success, to get rid of the combat boot that is crushing him.

“The book”, he repeats in the same even, scary voice. “Tell me where it is, if you want to be still able to talk about anything ever again.”

He removes his foot, allowing the man to take in two quick breaths, and then, before Dorsey even tries to answer him, he thrusts the tip of his boot under the man’s chin, as a warning.

“If your next word is not the one I want to hear, I'll make you swallow your teeth”, he informs him. One thing he doesn’t dislike about his costume is the look on his opponents’ faces when they look at him and see nothing but their own reflections. He doesn’t need this kind of tricks to make sure they believe him when he threatens them, but surely it doesn't hurt.

Dorsey licks his lips, then swallows down, evaluating the chances that the Red Hood could maybe be bluffing. He’s not. They all should know that by now.

“Dishna”, he whispers.

“Egypt, then”, the Red Hood says. It makes sense. They already have a small contingent of people looking for the asset there. Talia will be happy to know she was right: cowards and traitors, when they don't know where to go, they always go back home.

The rustle behind him warns him of what’s about to happen. He’s quicker than the old man this time, and he gets to knock Dorsey unconscious with a well placed kick before the batarang flies so close to his face it actually make a small cut into his neck.

He rolls on his feet and takes himself to the other side of the roof before standing up to face his old mentor.

“Good evening”, he salutes him, making sure to sound as sarcastic as possible. “There are nicer way to say ‘welcome home’, you know.”

He brings a hand to his neck and withdraws it covered in blood. Not much, but still enough to annoy him. He had pointed out the flaw of an uncovered neck under a full-face helmet several times: that strip of naked skin is practically an invitation to be beheaded, but his predecessor had retorted that no one else was ever supposed to wear that costume apart from him - he least of all. Stupid Todd.

“Did you kill him?”, Batman asks.

“Unless you’ve gone blind in your old age, I’m pretty sure you can see he’s still breathing”, he answers coolly. “And you can take him and tie him up with the others, if you want, I have no use for him anymore.”

Clearly distrustful of that immediate hand-over, Batman takes a step closer to him.

“Then why did you take him?”

“That’s none of your business, I’m afraid. He’s alive and I’m not going to fight you for him, it should be enough for you to be happy”, he retorts. “It's definitely an improvement compared to the last time we saw each other, Grayson.”

That makes Dick stop, physically and mentally: he can see it. It’s been years, yes, but they can still read each other so well, it’s frankly unnerving.

“Take off that helmet”, Batman says. “Please, Damian.“

Damian pretends that the please is what persuades him to comply. The truth is that he’s never liked the constriction of that stupid thing all over his face, dulling his senses and forcing him to rely only on its technology - and as advanced as the League had made it, he still doesn’t entirely trust anything outside himself. The truth may also be that, after all these years, he wants to look at Grayson with his own eyes, and maybe, at the same time, he wants Grayson to look at his real face.

“Take off that cowl”, he still demands in return.

Grayson hesitates, but only for a moment. He pushes the Batman’s mask back with a sigh almost as satisfied as Damian’s. Before this moment he had never considered the fact that now both of them are wearing a costumes they never wanted in the first place. The irony of a vigilantes life, Damian supposes.

There are grey strands in Grayson’s hair now, and wrinkles around his eyes. Damian’s surprised to see him so old, to find out that time has left such an evident mark on him. Not that he expected to find him identical to how he remembered him but… almost, maybe. Not so similar to Father, that’s for sure.

“You look just like Bruce”, Grayson says softly, mirroring his thoughts. “I mean, you look more like him than before. It’s scary.”

Jason and his mother use the word unsettling instead of scary, but they say it in the exact same way as Grayson.

“It's not a pride of mine”, Damian answers sharply. “And I'm sure the feeling is reciprocated.”

Dick shakes his head.

“He misses you”, he answers, almost smiling, and he uses that gentle voice that Damian knows so well. “And so do I.”

“The feeling is not reciprocated.”

Dick takes another step towards him.

“Don’t”, Damian warns him, and his brother stops again.

So many times Damian had wished for this moment, and so many times he had imagined a reconciliation that he was not possible, but, more than that, so many times he had feared that Grayson would never even try to make it happen. Knowing that he was wrong is a small victory he doesn’t intend to share, not even with Grayson himself.

“How’s Jason?”, Dick offers after a moment of quiet.

Damian shrugs, feigning indifference. He could lie, or say anything else, but he doesn’t see the reason to do hide something that’s not going to be a secret for more than a few days.

“Sitting on Grandfather’s throne, last time I checked.”

It's a pretty hard blow to take, but Damian has to admit that Grayson cashes it with a certain grace.

“Is it true, then?”, Dick only asks. “Is he the new Demon’s Head now?”

“That’s what my mother has decided.”

And what a conversation that had been. Damian had never seen Jason so angry or Talia more unyielding. A clash of titans indeed.

Richard looks at him like he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to do so. Maybe because he doesn’t want to hurt him, maybe because he knows it’s not his place anymore.

“Are you okay with it?”

“He’s the one who killed Grandfather”, Damian answers. “And I owe him enough not to kill him right away to take what's mine, at least.”

In truth he hasn't wanted his grandfather's throne since he was eight years old, but neither Grayson nor Todd need to know that, even if they had probably known even before Damian himself had realized it. He’d still like to keep both of them on their toes, if he can, and Talia would never forgive him for that unnecessary admission of abdication anyway.

Grayson doesn’t answer him right away, instead he kneels down next to Dorsey’s inert form and ties the man’s hands behind his back. He does it slowly, as if it were a difficult task that required a lot of his attention.

“Is it what you think?”, he asks eventually, when the last knots is tied, in a calm and almost curious tone. “That you owe Jason for what he did?”

Damian stiffens, immediately aware of the turn the conversation is going to take. This is what he had always wanted to avoid.

“He saved my life.”

“I know”, Dick answers.

“He saved my life when you and my father refused to.”

It hurts him to say it out loud. He hopes it hurts just the same for Richard to hear it.

Still on his knees, Dick looks up at him with a plea in his eyes.

“Don’t say it. We tried, kiddo. You ought to know that.”

Damian shakes his head, feels the sting of the cut on his neck and the deeper ache down in the pit of his stomach, that quiet rage that still tightens his throat like a knot on fire.

“You were never going to kill Ra’s”, he argues. “Neither one of you has ever even considered the idea.”

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what I know”, Damian almost yell.

Grayson sits back on his heels, a position of surrender Damian doesn’t really want to see him in right now.

“Todd did what neither of you could”, he continues, cruel and honest. “And I owe him my life for it.”

Dick’s mouth twitches in a grimace that Damian is not able to identify. Could be guilt, could be anger, could be something else entirely.

“Is that what he told you?”, Dick asks.

Damian doesn’t like that implication at all.

“No. He never told me anything about it.”

It’s not completely true. It’s, in fact, a blatant lie. Jason had only spoken about it once, and Damian still remembers what he’d told him. It was his life or yours. It wasn’t a hard choice. And the simplicity of those words was the thing that had hurt him the most, at the time. Because he had known, right here and right there, that it was the same thing he would have done, and just as easily as Jason had done it, if it had been his choice, if it had been Richard’s, or Father’s, or even Todd’s or Drake’s life on the line. He would’ve killed for all of them, but only Jason would - and did - kill for him too.

And even at seventeen Damian had known that that limitations wasn't a proof that they didn't love him enough. They just loved him differently. But that only meant that the problem was not them but him, Damian, and how better solve it than by not leaving? Stay in the court where his Grandfather had dragged him, away from the family that had not come after him, claim the altar where his body had almost been sacrificed to the Demon’s Head glory as his own new throne. Back then it had made more sense to him than the idea to go back, like Jason had wanted him to.

So he’d stayed, and Jason had stayed with him, and Talia had made it work. And it had broke his heart to leave one family for the other, but he’d already learned oh so long ago that he could survive that particular pain, after all. And Talia was not Bruce, and Jason was not Richard, and Alfred was long gone by then, but Cassandra shows up at the new League’s quarters sometimes, and Drake and Brown still call him every now and then, and always, always, on his birthdays.

With Father and Richard there had been no other option but to cut ties, because anything else would’ve just hurt a lot more. And he had known from the very first time he had stolen Jason’s old Red Hood costume, that going around into the world with that helmet on his head was going to keep them away. He had wanted it. And that, he regrets sometimes. All these years gone by in silence, with this affection that still burns his anger to ashes. And all it took was seeing Batman once, for Damian to want to run into Dick’s arms just like he used to do as a kid, to want to see Bruce too, and to feel the warm weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder just one more time.

But a wish is only that, a whim of the imagination, and reality is quite a different thing.

Richard stands up and the Batman’s cape behind him twirls into the wind. Instinctively, Damian takes a step back.

“Stay”, Dick says, and it’s so out of the blue Damian almost believes he’s misheard.

“What?”

“For the night”, Dick adds. “Let’s go home, Bruce will be so happy to-”

“I’m here on a mission”, Damian interrupts him. “And Gotham is not my home anymore.”

When Dick moves again Damian senses immediately what's about to happen. So he raises his hand to ask for one more moment of truce.

“If you try to stop me, we’ll have to fight”, he starts. “And whatever way it ends, I can promise it won't end the way you want it to.”

He can see the struggle behind Richard’s eyes, he can actually feel it like it were his own, and in some ways it is. Damian’s always had very few certainties in life, but Grayson’s love had always been one of those. He knows exactly how much his brother’s hurting right now, he knows what his instincts are yelling, what he wants to do, the things he wants to say. Because this fracture between them is not beyond repair, and they both know it. But what would a fight and then forgiveness bring at this point? Nothing but more pain.

And Dick knows this too, and that’s why he pulls the cowl back over his eyes.

“Say hello to Jason for me”, he says, as he lifts up the unconscious man over his shoulder.

“Will do”, Damian agrees.

He watches him jump then, and follows him with his eyes for a minute or two. It doesn't escape his attention that Batman doesn't tie up Dorsey with the other men - left in plain sight near their missed heist for the police to find - but that he pushes him inside of the Batmobile instead. Damian knows Grayson’s going to interrogate him, and he knows Dorsey will talk. It doesn’t matter. There’s no way they can stop them now, and ultimately, there’s no reason either for them to meddle with League’s business anymore.

He picks up the red helmet and pulls it over his head, hiding his face again.

It’s time to go back home.

[artlessictoan]

Hi can I request butch!Hinata/femme or androgynous!Sakura with a college party!AU please?

ahhh.. parties…………….. my old nemesis returns. buuuut tis theseason and I dunno when else I’m gonna get to write a halloweeny thing thisyear so fuck it, I will pretend I have even the faintest clue what parties and being drunkare like! also uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh warning for mild spice?? idk whereit came from but it’s where we are now

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

“Yo, Hina! Thought you weren’t comin’?”

She waved at her best friend as he bounded over to her – hisridiculous, floppy ears bouncing behind him – and bumped his fist against her alreadywaiting one. “I wasn't planning to,” she said, eyeing his onesie with a barely suppressedsnicker. “What are you wearing?”

“I'm a dog and Akamaru’s a cat.” Now that it had beenpointed out to her, she did indeed see how the huge dog had been given a headbandwith some pointy cat ears and a tabby-cat paintjob; presumably with somepet-friendly dye, Kiba cared too much about animals to be irresponsible, evenfor a joke. Still wouldn’t fool anyone, there weren’t many cats around thatwere four feet tall, but she could appreciate the effort. “It’s clever!”

“Mhmm.” She absently scratched around Akamaru’s ears, as sheglanced around the room. “Hey, you haven’t seen Sakura around have you? Chouji calledme over to take her home, apparently she’s gotten a bit… rowdy.”

Kiba snorted. “That’s an understatement, last time I saw hershe was teaching Naruto to suplex Sasuke-”

Naturally. Digging her fingers into her temples,Hinata groaned.

“-that was like, half an hour ago now though, haven’t seenher since.”

She thanked her friend for the help and moved further intothe house, trying to drown out the thumping beat as she tracked her girlfrienddown, asking friends as she stumbled across them, discovering even more reasonsfor Sakura to never be allowed near alcohol ever again and following theirleads to her current location.

The path of destruction left behind by the woman was clearto see.

“Hinata! Thank god you’re here, sorry I called you so late,but I didn’t know what else to do.” Chouji rushed over the second his eyes caughther and he quickly guided her back to the room he’d been guarding. “She’s inhere.”

Mumbling her thanks, she stepping into what was presumably adining room, though with every surface covered by either bottles, cans or plasticcups.

“Hiiiiiinaaaaaa!”

Finally, she laid eyes upon her target; a very drunk, very unrulywerewolf, arm-wrestling a guy with biceps the size of footballs and surroundedby people either screaming her contestant on, or clutching their own arms gingerly.

Honestly, the only surprising thing about the scene was thatthe werewolf was entirely pink.

“Hina, Hina, Hina, Hin-”

She stepped over the bodies littering the floor between themand laid a hand against Sakura’s shoulder before she could get too carriedaway. “I like your sideburns.”

The woman grinned up at her, turning away from her opponent.Not that that gave him any advantage, she could practically hear his teeth grindingto dust with how hard he was clenching them, while Sakura could speak with acompletely calm, if a little slurred, voice, “Feel ‘em! Took fuckin’ ages toglue on.”

Clearly, a lot of effort had gone into this costume, patchesof pastel pink fur – dyed to match her long, artfully dishevelled hair – werecarefully placed all over her body, blended into her skin with bright paint andher pretty blouse and shorts had been artfully shredded to make it reallylook like she’d just grown three sizes and burst right through them. It helpedthat she already had bigger muscles than most people could even dream of.

“They’re very impressive,” she said, stroking down the stiffhairs on her girlfriend’s cheeks, “but, I think that we should get you home now-”

The cut-off screech and agonising thud of skin against woodgave her a minor heart attack.

Sakura ignored the wailing of the poor guy who’d just hadhis hand slammed forcefully against the table and whirled on Hinata, not eventaking a second to gloat in her victory. “Whaaaat, no way, you just got here! C’mon,lets go get some drinks, to the drink-place!”

“I think you’ve had enough sweetie, let’s go.” Out of thecorner of her eye, she could see a worried Chouji hovering by the door, clearlywaiting to jump in and help her if need be.

Hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. Sakurablinked up at her with hazy, watery eyes, before weeping into her stomach, “Nooooo,you should stay here and party with us!”

“I’m not into parties, you know that, come on now.” Hinatastarted inching towards the door, dragging her limpet along behind her, but sheonly managed to get a few steps in, before she was suddenly released and forcedto watch her girlfriend slump to the floor, arms crossed, pouting like a child.

“Nuh-uh, not goin’ anywhere.”

She absolutely could not keep up with Sakura’s wildmood swings when she was drunk. “I will drag you if I have to.”

The woman whined and flopped down even more, until she waslying down, arms still crossed, on the hard, wooden floor. Resigning herself toher fate, Hinata leaned down and grabbed hold of her shoulders and started to haulher away.

It would’ve been easier if her girlfriend wasn’t theapproximate size, shape and weight of a truck.

She managed to drag her halfway across the room, but thatwas about as far as they got, before Sakura’s dead weight hit the body of somepoor, unconscious sod and stayed there. Hinata glared down at the woman – thoughright now she was behaving more like a five-year-old – who met her stare with atoothy grin. “Ohhhhh nooooooooo, looks like we’re stuck heeeereeeeeeee.”

Looking to the heavens for patience, her eyes passed overthe forms of the men sulking in the corner, still clutching aching arms. Andshe got an idea.

“…I’ll wrestle you.”

Sakura blearily blinked up at her. “Huh?”

The wheels were franticly spinning in her head as she madeher plan. “An arm wrestle, if I win,” she said slowly, “you have to come homewith me, if you win, then I’ll stay here with you.”

Unfocused eyes suddenly sharpened. Without even bothering tosay anything, Sakura leapt up, grabbed her hand and pulled her back to thetable. She was sat down, waiting with her arm already in position, before Hinatacould even catch her breath. Taking a deep inhale, she sat down in the oppositechair, carefully kicked off her unwieldy boot, trapped her sock under her heelto peel it off and entwined her own hand with her girlfriend’s, bracing herselfagainst the sturdy table and pointedly ignoring the small crowd gatheringaround them.

“On three,” Sakura said with a smirk. “One, two-”

She wouldn’t be able to beat her. As physically strong asshe was – and Hinata was very strong – Sakura was a whole other beastand had much more experience in this particular sport.

She wouldn’t win a fair fight. But Hinata wasn’t afraid tofight dirty.

“Threeek!”

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Hinata asked, as though herfoot wasn’t running slowly up and down the inside of Sakura’s leg.

Their hands bobbed back and forth, entire arms shaking witheffort as they battled, Hinata kept her focus on what was going on underthe table though. Keeping her calm, innocent smile fixed on her face, as sheskirted around the patches of fur stuck to her shins, gently brushing up anddown smooth skin at a slow, fixed pace.

“You’re cheating!” Sakura whined, arm still held strong, buteyes drifting in and out of focus.

“How can I be cheating, when we never made any specificrules against it?” Her bare toes skimmed further up, tickling just behind aknee before sliding across a hard, muscled thigh.

“I’mmmm-making it a rule now!”

She curled her toes, lightly massaging the skin beneaththem. “Ah-ah, can’t change the rules in the middle of a game, that’s not fair.”Ok, maybe she was taking just a little too much joy in the soft flush on hergirlfriend’s cheeks and slight quiver to her lips as she pulled in shakybreaths, but as she brushed against the hem of her shorts, teasing the area soclose and yet so far, she couldn’t stop herself from getting alittle excited too.

Her love of tormenting her lovers into trembling desire wasalmost as big a liability as Sakura’s ridiculously sensitive legs.

Around them, people were cheering and screaming for a victorto the match, thankfully too wasted to notice the second match happening justout of sight. Despite her overwhelming advantage, Sakura’s arm was beginning totilt ever closer to the table, staying strong, but gradually losing ground asHinata pushed her to her limits and rubbed slow circles into the apex of herinner thigh.

She had to bite her lip at the utterly delicioussounds her girlfriend was trying to hide, intermixed with grunts of effort asshe attempted to push her arm back to safety.

“You’re looking a little out of breath, love,” Hinata crooned,as though she wasn’t equally wrecked, but the full-body shiver and low moan wasmore than worth it. And it was the perfect opening for her final move.

Subtly bracing herself for a final push, she very gently strokedher toes across the fabric covering the one area she’d been pointedly avoidinguntil now.

With a hard smack and high-pitched keen, she won.

But, the revelling in her victory could wait, right now shehad a very worked-up, very delectable girlfriend to take home so she could properlyworship her in private. She immediately withdrew her foot and shoved it backinto her boot – the sock left forgotten on the floor – pulling Sakura up bytheir still clasped hands and stomping out of the house.

Maybe the party hadn’t been so bad after all.

---

[thegospelofnagisa]

Promise Blood Event summary

   Sit back and grab yourself a bag of popcorn cause this is going to be a long read  (Charlie: For Real)

Girl with the Black Hair is Ooba Juri

Girl on the left of Juri is Kureha Yuna

Girl bellow Juri is Kasane Ao

In the city of Futatsugi, the mahou shoujo don’t work in small groups, but gather in large gangs like the gangster type … The oldest ‘here’ is Torayacho - led by Kuraha Yuna, who took over her former Senpai’s management career (due to transformed into witch). But the separation of Ooba Juri has created an equally strong, opposing band - Ryugasaki. Relations between the two sides are not good. Due to the scarcity of witches in the city (the cause of Magius’s work, as well as the removal of QB by being hunted) has led to conflicts over 'food source’, grief seed. Not only oppressive, exploiting the efforts of newbie, but also threats, coercing the enemy to transform into witch to harvest grief seed is also common place here.

In the midst of these two hegemonies, there is the sneaky, clingy existence of a group of young, newcomers - Hebinomiya, founded by Kasane Ao, with the conspiracy to overthrow the oppression from the seniors. Kirari Hikaru, a 13-year-old meguca was invited to join, after being rescued by Ao while being hunted for grief seed she just obtained. Ao asked Hikaru to help with the upcoming big plan, taking advantage of the struggle of two big gangs to destroy the oligarchs. Ao is currently pretending to be a confidant of Juri, so asked Hikaru to blend into the Torayacho ranks to get information, coordinate action later.

The reason for the mediation between the two gangs was broken by internal news that Torayacho lost the “Horse” - supposedly Yuna’s “treasurer” (but no one, except Yuna, ever saw it), reached the Ryugasaki faction, and escalated into war. Although Torayacho has reported on the fact that witches are reappearing, there is no evidence to support the situation, so the tension is still growing. And the official declaration of war was sent directly to Yuna by Juri via phone.

The relationship between Yuna and Juri is also part of the reason for the confrontation. The two were once on the same frontline, but Juri has never won against Yuna in every fights (not counting power, compared to the brain is as different as chalk and cheese). That makes Juri always carry an inhibition, a desire for revenge. The gathering of dissatisfied meguca with Torayacho, creating Ryugasaki also aims to minimize the number of ‘mouths’, when the city lacks ‘food’. It also makes Yuna feel a bit guilty because she thinks that she caused this situation. But Yuna didn’t accept that Juri turned the fight between the two into war, so accepted this confrontation.

After the declaration of war, Yuna declared a call-to-arms to the Torayacho crew, calling for all to take caution. Along with that is the setup for the battlefield at 3 large bridges connecting the two banks of the city (also the boundary between the two gangs). Magic stones are arranged in two east-west bridges, serving as tactics. Also, by joining and understanding about Juri from former Ryugasaki member  Hikaru, Yuna believes that she is well prepared … But it’s been 2 weeks since the declaration of war, there was no movement from Ryugasaki. Torayacho’s morale is therefore somewhat wasteful. In order to gain everyone’s morale back, believing in a high probability of victory, Yuna revealed the truth about “Horse”. It was not an object, but a very loyal meguca of Yuna …

The delay of the fight was not the intention of Juri, who only cares about face-to-face confrontation, but from the very cunning confidants like Ranka and Ao. However, 2 weeks is enough time to check for the news of the witch to come back gradually, as the original desire of the Torayacho faction. Ranka said that the delay could not be extended, because it will affect their soldiers morale, most of whom are fighting for the initial lack of reason. So the offensive plan is finalized, which will take place in the next 2 days.

Meanwhile in Hebinomiya, Ao and Hikaru continued to exchange information about the two major gangs. With an upright personality, Hikaru shows her disagreement with the association’s own plan, when it plans to take advantage of the two heads facing each other and a few members will join in and strike. But an incident happened to Ao that Hikaru was unable to respond to that plan. A member of Ryugasaki realized that Ao was a former member from an old organization similar to Hebinomiya now, and blackmail her for profit. Despite being arrested, she did not apologize. Ao used that as evidence for the corruption of the gangs now. End No.1: If she chooses to let the girl run, she will pull more people and dive into Hebinomiya’s base. A massacre happened and … Bad End.

Information about the time when Ryugasaki attacked was reported directly from Juri … to Yuna, when meeting in private. Although always frustrated by the failure, Juri still understands what Yuna did for her. But like Yuna, those things didn’t make Juri give up her determination to defeat the opponent. Both sides did not back down, the preparation for battle began. - Torayachou: Divided into 6 teams, each team has 3 people. Yuna and Hikaru defend the western bridge. Sakuya(bug eyes), Yuna’s deputy general (forgot to introduce as well), led the defense of the eastern bridge. The last team prepared to ambush at the central bridge. The magic stone moved from the east-west bridge to the center. Yuna guesses that Juri will choose the strategy quantities over qualities. Planning to use magic stones to create virtual illusion at the east-west ends, made Juri chose to hit from the center to catch them all there.

- Ryugasaki: Divided into 2 teams, each team of 9, from the west and east bridge, using the number to overwhelm. Juri and Ao themselves will lead the troops at the east bridge, leaving Ranka to the west. Juri also knew the information about using magic stones, but didn’t think that such trifles would have any effect  

End No.2: If Juri changes her plan, concentrating all the troops from the center, Ryugasaki will lose very quickly, because of being surrounded, according to Yuna’s original plan. Developments:

Juri led the eastern team across the river. Facing 3 teams with 9 other meguca from Sakuya. Although the numbers were equal, but with Juri’s uncontrolled strength, Sakuya’s defense quickly collapsed. Not only that, it was a loss of life … Sakuya was of course not a rival to Juri. And running away is inevitable, towards the central bridge.

End No.3: If Sakuya chooses to stay behind to buy time, then both the east wing as well as Sakuya herself will be cut off by Juri’s strength.

On the other side of the city, Ranka led the other wing and faced Juri and Hikaru’s two teams. Although more crowded, Ryugasaki’s side was defeated by Yuna’s distraction plan. Ranka was forced to withdraw troops to the center, knowing it was the enemy’s intention. The irony situation when the retreating soilders and the chasing soldiers on both sides were tailing towards each other. Fearing a possible chaos, Hikaru came up with the idea of split up so that both sides could catch the other wings. Yuna agrees and contacts Sakuya. The Ryugasaki faction was thus able to gather back. Ranka realizes that the Torayacho faction has a team that hasn’t been revealed yet and warns Juri to be careful. When the two sides had stabilized their personnel, the second battle with the entire army began. Yuna preemptively attack with the hidden team using 'shelling’ into the Ryugasaki ranks, causing the enemy to panic and be forced to disperse. At this point, the magic stone used to interrupt the ability to sense magic power has been prepared to take effect. Taking advantage of the fact that the enemy troops were torn apart and unable to detect their position, the Torayacho troops attacked like beasts With so much pressure, Ryugasaki had to divide  troops into three, two teams withdrew to either side of the bridge to gather back, and Juri’s team broke through the siege straight past the central bridge.  

Of course it’s not easy, because Yuna is blocking there. The goons from two sides dragged each other to another place, so the two generals faced each other. While the battle is still inconclusive, Ao and Hikaru appeared to intervene. Because Ao’s plan is not only two heads, but wants to clear a whole army of two sides. Listened to advice, Juri thinks about retreat, but when crossing the central bridge, the shelling team just now tried to shoot again. However, their energy was depleted by the last firing. And those in the way of Juri were sentenced to death … The escalating casuality shocked Yuna, telling herself to quickly end this war. Continuing to chase with their entire members is not a good choice, as the impatience of the young members as well as the unpredictable strength of Juri can cause increased losses. So, Yuna instructed a few number to followe her to face Juri a second time …

End No.5: If Yuna takes all troops to the battle, it is Ao’s dream situation! Hebinomiya will intervene and destroy all …

The duel recurred. Although not the most beautiful situation, but this is the last chance for Ao’s plan. And the Hebinomiya forces appeared and assaulted. The Ryugasaki Army was too surprised to react. But Torayacho is different. Although few but all have defenses for this case, because the things about Hebinomiya are well known by Yuna. Such information was provided by Hikaru - Yuna’s very trusted servant, the “Horse”. It turns out, Hikaru was sent by Yuna to infiltrate Ryugasaki, learn about the secret organization Hebinomiya, and become a trump card to end this war. Ao’s plan collapsed. Ranka promptly took Juri and the army withdrew, but it is likely that Ryugasaki will disintegrate later. The final victory goes to Torayacho.

Well, I’ve just done translating part 2 summary of the event. I will post it now  Part 2: Situation of 3 factions after the last war part 1: - Hebi’s side: Ao lost, explained everything to her side and then disappeared, not wanting to meet anyone - Juri faction: some people were injured, Juri’s credibility decreased. - Yuna Faction: prevailed, wishing to stabilize the situation Yuna tells Hikaru that everyone knows that the number of witches is starting to increase again. But the time of deprivation and misery lasted so long, everyone was afraid to return to the time of hunger. Hikaru was always with Yuna, so she couldn’t understand. Hikaru wondered if there were any measures to reassure everyone. Yuna herself has some measures, not sure how to say it but at least it was better than nothing. During this time, there was no contact from Ryuugasaki (Ryuu). Yuna left it alone because she was sure Juri would come and cause trouble. At Torayacho (Tora) base, Sakuya reports that the witch investigator is currently in trouble, but the situation is unknown. And then someone finds the investigator in distress so she notifies Sakuya. 2 options for Yuna: - Find people and continue to investigate - Stop investigating

Option 1: FINDING PEOPLE AND CONTINUING TO INVESTIGATE At this time, Yuna ordered the search to continue and sent Sakuya to assist the investigator and continue her research. In the Ryuu faction’s base, Juri understood why everyone was leaving. Ranka asked if she already knew why not change. Juri refused because of many reasons, especially not wanting to return to Yuna’s side as before. For Juri, the only one who could stop Juri was Yuna, now being Yuna’s junior once more makes no sense. After that, Juri said Ranka can left if she wanted but Ranka decided not to. Ranka considers Juri to be a benefactor because Juri saved Ranka from the old organization Monzenbashi no Komori (Monzen Bridge Bats - called Bats for short). That day, Ranka thought that she had to rely on the strong to live to join that organization, but then had to do things that she didn’t want to do. At Hebinomiya’s (Hebi’s) base, Ao was sad that she could not fulfill Hebi’s ideals as well as her own. Ao thought Tora’s side was not too bad, but there was no way in life gave her delicious cake easily. While walking, Ao caught sight of Ranka’s magic wave - used to be the vice leader of Bat. Ao wanted to call Ranka when she was suddenly called by Hikaru. Ao panicked, dragging Hikaru into the alley scolding. The purpose of Ao is to eliminate Ranka because in the past, both Ao and Ranka were in the Bat but Ranka’s rank was higher, so she bullied Ao a lot -> Ao resented her. Hikaru then switched the topic, saying both of their wishes are for the city to no longer has oppression and exploitation. But when Ao retorted if Yuna and Hikaru disagreed, 100% Hikaru would chose to listen to Yuna. And Ao will not betray Yuna’s team but not giving up on “eliminate Ranka”.

Although Hikaru didn’t say anything about Ao’s feud with Ranka, Yuna guessed correctly, not intending to interfere in this. Instead, Yuna asks Hikaru to make an appointment with Ao at the base to get information on Ryuu’s side. Hebi’s base was a game center but when Hikaru arrived, there were no civilians -> Yuna guessed that the Hebi’s faction was in meeting. At this moment, Ao persuaded everyone to cease-fight and moved over to Tora. Ao alone does not come because there is still a debt of debt to Ranka unpaid. Hikaru suddenly jumped in, delivering Yuna’s words to Ao. While walking with Yuna to Ryuu’s base, Ao wonders why Yuna wants her, the traitor of Ryuu’s to persuade them. Yuna thinks that Hebi’s heel-face turn could make Ryuu’s to think again, so she’s wanting Ao to go along to negotiate. Also, Ryuu’s side almost disbanded, so she asked Ao to meet each other to talk. Some Surrenders, some refuses. Some accepts to join Tora only if Tora gives evidence of the disappearance and re-appearance of Witches After the negotiation was over, Juri felt the problem was more complicated than she thought. Ao split up, went to Ryuu’s base to search for Ranka, and didn’t let Hikaru follow. Yuna realizes that the number of witches is on a par with the time before the “Blood Tragedy” occurred, but the correlation with the current MS rate has yet to be reached, resulting in the average number of grief seeds per person still being insufficient. Hikaru believes that stopping the current “find and destroy QB” campaign in the whole city will be able to save the situation. But Yuna disagrees because it makes more innocent people get caught up in the harsh fate of MS. The wound has not healed yet, Juri tried to run to Tora to fight and meet Ranka in the middle of the bridge. Ranka guessed the reason, telling Juri that Ryuu’s “heart” was still there. Juri immediately changed her mind, returned, and did not forget to text that Ao was searching for Ranka.

On Ao’s side, she went to Ryuu’s base to search for Ranka but did not find the one she was looking for. Instead, Ao saw Juri alone in the base. Juri already knew it but because she was kind to Juri, Juri left Ao to act. Juri thinks that Ao wants to erase the gangs at Futatsugi but is not determined to the end. Instead, Juri persuades Ao to forgive Ranka and not to trust Tora. 2 options for Ao: - Shake hands with Juri - Don’t shake hands with Juri IF AO CHOOSE TO SHAKE HANDS WITH JURI Ao herself also understand that the current peace moment is only temporary. As long as the witch / MS ratio remains unbalanced, war will still take place. IF AO CHOOSE NOT TO SHAKE HANDS WITH JURI Ao chooses to trust Tora’s side, leaves Juri aside and runs away, leaving Juri alone in the base. Juri recalled fighting with the Bat organization near the central bridge, once saw Ao’sgrief seed stolen by a group of Bat’s MS. Ranka was in the same group but she only stool aside, after being instigated by her comrades, she took action. A while later, Ranka left. Juri discovers that Ranka is crying, and Ranka knows that the person in front of her is the Ryuu’s leader, so she asks Juri to save her from the Bat side. Juri once again associates Ao-Ranka’s relationship with herself and Yuna, as well as what Ranka says on the bridge, wondering what to do next. When the wound had healed, Juri wanted to fight Yuna one more time so she met everyone. Juri was quite surprised when everyone gathered, as well as not leaving Juri. Despite the idea of cooperating with the Tora faction to investigate the witch, Ranka objected. Juri didn’t comment, 

At Yuna’s house, Ao was playing a game when she received a message from Ranka. Ranka asks Ao to meet the next night, at Hebi’s base. Ranka will come alone, and Ao can take anyone with her. Yuna wants to send someone to follow Ao in case of any uncertainties. Ao actively asked Hikaru to come along. Yuna agrees to let Hikaru follow Ao, and she will go to meet Ryuu separately. Ryuu sent a message that someone was interested in Tora’s proposal and invite Yuna to discuss it. Yuna leads 3 people to the rendezvous, meeting 10 people on Ryuu’s side. Since Tora’s side has yet to give evidence of witch information, Ryuu’s side flips, not accepting reconciliation or following Tora. Yuna realizes this meeting is a trap, trying to find a way to escape but taking 4 to 10, Yuna’s side is naturally weaker. In the middle of being surrounded, Yuna thought of her deceased senpai, skeptical that what she had done was wrong, but senpai confirmed that there was always a loyal guardian beside Yuna.

Towards Ao and Hikaru on the way to Hebi base. IF AO SHAKE HANDS WITH JURI Ao remembered the conversation with Juri, as well as the chat with Ranka that Yuna and Hikaru could not read. Upon arrival, before Hikaru could take action, Ranka was killed by Ao -> BAD END 6. The Last Line: Ao’s weakness led to the deaths of two girls. The choice to shake hands with Juri or not, depending on that, the gear of destiny will vary greatly. IF AO CHOOSE NOT TO SHAKE HANDS WITH JURI Ao and Hikaru arrive at Hebi’s base at Ranka’s invitation. Upon arrival, Ranka taunts Ao for joining Ryuu and she has to live with her old enemy. Ao said it was all because of Hebi’s plan, only regretting that she could not kill Ranka during the war. While the two sides are fighting, Hikaru discovered a sniper. Ranka reveals Yuna’s group is surrounded, Ranka’s mission is to keep Ao’s group, separating Hikaru from Yuna. Ao then asked Hikaru to chase after her “master”, leaving everything to Ao to take care of. [If Hikaru doesn’t make it in time] Yuna was surrounded, the 3 people who came along were defeated. While Ryuu’s side was about to fight Yuna, Juri jumped out and told Yuna to fight one vs one to death. Yuna accepted. Fighting for a while, Yuna’s Soul Gem starts to turn black but she doesn’t use purifying grief seed. Instead, Yuna tells Juri to kill her before turning herself into a witch, if possible then save Hikaru. Juri asks if there’s any lasts word, Yuna said thanks. -> BAD END 7 The Last Line: Ao’s weakness led to the deaths of two girls. The choice to shake hands with Juri or not, depending on that, the gear of destiny will vary greatly. [If Hikaru arrives in time]

Yuna was surrounded, the 3 people who came along were defeated. Juri stood outside watching the two side fight. While Ryuu’s side was about to fight Yuna, Juri jumped out to stop it. Yuna is disappointed because Juri normally likes to defeat the enemy herself, this time waiting for the end of the game to jump in to “scoop”. Juri argued, Yuna accepted the challenge.(edited) Hikaru was on her way to Yuna. Ao and Ranka are still fighting. But Ranka only receives Ao’s blow that makes the sniper pissed. In the middle of the sniper’s attempt to finish Ao, Hebi’s reinforcement attack and defeat her. Ranka gradually exhausted, accepted to let the opponent strike the finishing blow. But Ao could not do it. Ranka confessed and apologized in the end, Ao accepted … On Yuna and Juri’s side, just as Yuna collapsed due to the hit of Juri and her Soul Gem turned to black, Hikaru was able to come to the rescue. Hikaru was strong, she protected Yuna while having to deal with Juri’s side. In the end, only Juri stood still. Juri regretted not being able to fight Yuna in her peak state so she didn’t attack, letting Hikaru take Yuna back to the base. When Ao arrived, only Juri was there. Seeing Ao was going to Tora, Juri texted: after another week and Tora’s side didn’t come to Ryuu’s, Juri would come and fight again. With only 3 days left until the time Juri had set, Yuna asked everyone on the Tora’s side to switch to Ryuu’s side. Although everyone objected, Yuna convinced everyone that Ryuu’s side only wanted peace in Futatsugi, continuing to fight was pointless. After that, only Yuna and Hikaru were left in the room. Yuna also told Hikaru to go, but Hikaru insisted on not to, believing that Hikaru’s decision to stay or go was not Yuna’s decision. Yuna was taken aback, accepting Hikaru’s stubbornness. [Going back to Yuna’s original choice when she heard the investigator’s accident] If Yuna initially chose to stop the investigation: Due to not looking for a person, Sakuya was still in the city, Yuna told Sakuya to be with Ryuu’s. Only Yuna and Hikaru were left. At the set time, the two sides fought and Yuna lost. Both Yuna and Hikaru turned into witches ->BAD END 8 The narrative after Bad End: For MS in this city, the mystery of whether Witch is solved or not will be an important link to continue the story.

Ao and Hikaru were chatting on the bridge about the situation, when Sakuya called to report that the investigator had been found as well as the information. But the other person is currently in critical condition, needing Hikaru to bring the grief seed as well as bring Yuna. Investigators discovered that the cause of the witch disappearing in the cities was all due to the Magius organization in Kamihama, so they blend in. In the end, when Magius collapsed, the Black Wings and the White Wings realized they were being taken advantage of. Currently, the purification system is still in Kamihama and is taken over by another MS organization.

After Yuna heard the incident, she got angry and told Hikaru to call Juri and all the MSs in the city to the central bridge, sending Ao to search for QB. In her rage, Yuna asks Juri to rematch on the condition that if Juri loses then Juri must return to her side. Both fight. In the middle of the battle, Yuna recounts the “Blood Tragedy”, talking about Kamihama’s purification system. Juri shoots a sphere to take down Yuna, but in the end, the one coming out of the flames is a demon engulfed in fury. Discovering Yuna about to go too far, Hikaru immediately hugged Yuna, stopping Yuna from attacking Juri. Thanks to that, Yuna calmed down.

Ao grabbed QB to them, confirmed what was happening at Kamihama. Yuna and the others want to take revenge, QB suggests a method to lead them to Kamihama, in return for Yuna to stop hunting QB. Before leaving, QB also warned that there are still megucas from other places in Kamihama. Yuna gathered all the MS in the city, calling to arms to revenge on Kamihama. Epilogue Yuna’s group travels to places where the MS died in the dark days when the witch disappeared, as well as the “battlefield” of the gangs to commemorate the deceased. The three of them swore blood act, determined not to forget this hatred. Afterwards, the whole group gathered at the meeting place, met QB in order to go to Kamihama.                                                         The end

                                                   Side notes 

Ao is perfectly fine with killing people she thinks are scum and the root of problems she got weak  vs Juri and Ranka because she got to know them too well. 

Ao’s ability is to puppet people multiple at a time, the limit is unknown however she needs their consent first.  Yuna’s ability is Target Redirection, in the story, she uses it to link Juri to a tire in the playground, and then beats the shit out of the tire to inflict damage on Juri.  Juri is powerful because she actually has huge magic reserves

Juri had a personal grudge against Yuna and was always trying to fight Yuna eventually Juri had her own territory and other girls followed her because of her charisma Ranka used to be part of an older group that was much more ruthless on the sharing grief seed thing and basically all the older megucas made it so the younger megucas had to give up the grief seed they found Ao was one of those younger generation meguca and her first meeting with Ranka basically had Ranka ordered to beat the shit out of Ao until Ao gave up her grief seed that’s why Ao has a personal grudge against Ranka

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

HOLY SHIT!

[ahgaseda]

made of stone || chapter 02

⇥ synopsis : when you return after years apart to pursue a divorce from your husband, Mark, you fall back into a contentious relationship because your partner still refuses to give up his dangerous fighting career...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, descriptions of blood and violence, alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Busan treated you as if you had never left. From the back of Mark’s bike, you closed your eyes and breathed in the surroundings as wind battered your body. The chill couldn’t touch you so long as you were tucked against Mark. He radiated heat and warmth and no cold could hope to compete.

From the countryside to the city, the night became brighter with energy. The lights of Busan were vibrant and colorful. You could smell the delicious offerings of the market and heard the bustling of the night coming alive. This was the home you remembered; the place you had once belonged.

The motorcycle came to a growling halt outside of a market street. Mark situated the bike between a few others in a cluster, earning some cheers and hollers from the boys nearby when they noticed his arrival. They gladly told your husband how much money they had riding on his win tonight.

You stood from the bike and pulled the helmet free, flipping your hair loose and inevitably drawing a few long whistles from the same men. Mark rounded on them, proceeding to crack his knuckles in their general direction, and the catcalls died down rather quickly.

“This is my wife,” Mark announced with an edge of warning to his tone. “She’s been on vacation in Seoul for a few... years.”

You snorted at the annoyance in his voice.

Mark didn’t hesitate to take your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and led you into one of the food stalls. “Are you hungry?” he asked sweetly.

You had no doubt Mark would buy you whatever you wanted. The scent of the market made your mouth water at the array of street food freshly prepared, but you were too anxious at the moment, glancing down at the sight of his fingers tangled through yours. “I’m not, but thank you for asking,” you replied, polite.

Mark said nothing as he continued leading you through the stalls. Not long after, an elderly woman greeted Mark excitedly, speaking so low and hurried you could barely keep up. Mark’s eyes wrinkled with a smile as he indulged her, letting her pat and squeeze his bicep as she led him to the back door. Apparently, she also had some money riding on his fight.

“Good to see illegal fighting has its own building now,” you sneered with disdain. “No more back alley bullshit.”

“Try not to run your mouth too much in here,” Mark warned playfully, releasing your hand and hooking his arm around your waist. “I’m only getting paid for one fight and I’m not in the mood to go pro bono.”

“I thought you would do anything for your sweet wife?” you taunted, batting your lashes.

Mark scoffed and joked under his breath, “Not since she left me with two years’ worth of blue balls.”

Blushing, you snorted back a laugh.

The moment you stepped inside the concrete building, you winced at the ringing in your ears. People were crammed inside from wall to wall and their individual conversations blended into one incoherent roar. Your ears adjusted as Mark brought you to a square pillar and instructed you to stay put.

“Fine,” you grumbled at being bossed around. Mark flashed you a smirk.

He stepped away from you long enough to greet the ring leader, embracing his friend and voicing his readiness for the fight. You felt the familiar signs of nerves coiling in your stomach and racing through your veins.

Jinyoung was quick to wave at you from his position alongside Mark, face alight with glee at your first visit in years. You waved back, albeit nervously.

“Who am I fighting today?” Mark asked under his breath.

“Chansung,” he replied, pointing at the man across the room. Someone discreetly handed Jinyoung a wad of cash as they passed by, which he quickly counted.

Mark bobbed his head.

Jinyoung lifted an eyebrow, glancing at you once more. “She’s back, huh?” he questioned mischievously.

Mark looked to you and his heart throbbed. “For now,” he whispered sadly.

“You know she would stay if you just gave her what she wants,” Jinyoung reminded, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.”

Jinyoung shook his head with a smile and teased, “So stubborn. You’re both made for each other.”

With an insincere scowl, Mark returned to your side, discarding his jacket and withdrawing bandages from his pockets. He handed you his keys and phone, which you took without a word.

“Jesus, Mark,” you squeaked, cutting your gaze at the shirtless man on the other side of the open circle. “He’s twice your size.”

Mark spun more of the white wrap around his hands and fingers, then replied calmly, “I’m fast, baby.”

Flustered at his nonchalant attitude, you ordered, “Don’t take any hard hits.”

“Some things can’t be avoided,” Mark cooed, jumping up and down in place before punching the empty air at your side.

Watching him warm up, you glowered. “I’m serious.”

“I’ve been at this a long time,” Mark started, pretending to dodge invisible hits and delivering his own.

“I know,” you reminded softly, tracing your gaze over the scar on his chest. “I was with you every step of the way.”

Mark came to a stop, finally giving you his attention. “I remember,” he sighed, caressing your cheek. “I never thanked you, did I?”

Surprised by the gentle gesture, you leaned into his hand and let yourself fall into the warmth of his irises. “For what?” you asked after a pause.

“For always being there,” Mark explained, stroking his thumb over your skin. “I think I took you for granted. I came to expect it from you.”

Glancing at the opponent across the way as he threw powerful practice punches of his own, you murmured, “Mark, we don’t have to do this now.”

Mark felt you trying to escape and he gripped your face with both hands, staring deep into your eyes. “I never acknowledged what you were going through every time I stepped inside that ring. Hell, if I saw you getting beaten within an inch of your life, I would lose my fucking mind,” he spoke for your ears alone.

You blinked in surprise, listening to him finally give you some absolution for what you had endured for his sake. You could hardly believe he had put away enough of his pride to admit it and tears quickly threatened.

“It’s different when it’s the person you love and not yourself,” Mark finished.

You braced your palms on his chest and pleaded, “Then, don’t do this.”

Mark sighed and for a moment, you thought he would surrender. But he quickly asserted, “I have to.”

Bristling, you replied, “Then win and don’t take a single hit to the head.”

Mark bit his lip, fighting a smile, and teased, “Those give you heart attacks, huh?”

“Yes.”

He bobbed his head. “Well, you know it’s not easy with all the...”

You grabbed your husband by the face and yanked him toward you, chests colliding. Smashing your lips on his, you kissed him with the fire and urgency of someone starved of affection for the better part of two years.

Mark got a solid grip of your waist and brought your body against his, letting you dominate his mouth with your kiss. Shivers danced across his skin - of excitement and arousal - and Mark could hardly believe that after all this time and the bitter heartache, you were still head over heels in love with each other.

Breaking away, you met his hazy eyes and ordered, “Destroy him.”

“Destroy him,” Mark echoed back to you with a flirtatious smile.

You kissed him again, this time slower and much more of a tease as you slid your tongue between his lips. Not far away, Jinyoung whistled and cheered, but you were too lost in Mark to notice.

“Don’t take any hits,” you whispered between kisses.

“I won’t take any hits,” Mark replied obediently.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you brushed your lips over his ear and rasped, “And maybe I will make it up to you.”

“And... what?” Mark stammered, blinking rapidly.

“You heard me,” you said, smug. Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him away. “Now, go.”

Mark grinned and pulled the tank top over his head, tossing it to your waiting grasp. He raked his tongue across his teeth as he jogged backwards toward the center of the room, never taking his gaze off of you. When he finally turned to face his opponent, you felt the blood drain from your face in fear.

You had to give him some incentive; something to light the fire in him so he would take the fight as seriously as you did. If he wasn’t going to give it up, you had to ensure he didn’t fall.

Standing by the concrete pillar, you folded your arms and watched with bated breath. Then, the guilt washed over you further with the force of an inescapable wave. This was the life you had left behind. The one you ran from and never looked back. It weighed on you heavily; so heavily you were convinced your own bones were breaking from the inside out.

Each and every time Mark took a hard hit, you knew it would be the one to end him. The man you loved was infatuated with death and you were always trapped on the sidelines to watch him dance with her. A day would come when he would hit the ground and the light would die in his eyes, and you understood that would be the day you would rip your own heart out of your chest.

You hated yourself for where you currently stood. Two years apart had amounted to nothing. You kept yourself away from the man you loved and had absolutely nothing to show for it.

Tears filled between your lashes and you glanced up, realizing Mark was staring intently into your face from across the room. Something fell over his expression and you quickly fought back your tears to appear strong for him. Mark saw that, too, and it hurt him even more.

But he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

chapter 01 ⇤ chapter 02 ⇥ chapter 03

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Phantom Thief

Word Count: 9000+ (chapter 2 of 3) (chapter 1)

Genre: Angst/Family

Characters: Emerald Sustrai, Jadeite Sustrai (OC, mentioned), Beryl Sustrai (OC), minor OCS

Summary: Professional thief Jadeite Sustrai dreams of only one thing: a happy family. To that end, he sets out from home to seek his fortune, certain that before long, he will be able to bring his wife and little daughter into a life of ease and plenty.Unfortunately, Jadeite's plan is nowhere near as clever as he thinks. And before long, young Emerald's life takes a nosedive straight into hell.

Content warnings for child abuse, child abandonment, mentions of domestic abuse, classism, and violence against the homeless.

~0~

“Dear mother, dear father, you clipped my wings before I learned to fly

Unspoiled, unspoken, I’ve outgrown that fucking lullaby

Same thing I’ve always heard from you; do as I say, not as I do

Innocence torn from me without your shelter, barred reality, I’m living blindly.”

- Dyers’ Eve, Metallica

~0~

Days like this are the worst.

The rain pours down so hard and fast that Emerald can’t see anything outside the wide front window of the bakery. Though the place is small and warmed by the heat of the ovens, she still shivers to look and be reminded that she’ll soon have to run back out into that.

Of course, it’s out of nervousness as much as chill. This is a first-time mark for her, and nothing about it puts her at ease. It’s late afternoon, near closing time, so there’s only two or three other people inside, but that just gives her less to blend in with. And the man behind the back counter -- who looks as if he should be breaking bones in the prizefighting ring instead of here baking pastries -- had snorted derisively when she’d hurried through the door, and in the few minutes since, had barely taken his eyes off her, contempt and judgment clear in them.

She knows how she looks; a stick-thin preteen in a filthy, overlarge shirt and tattered shorts, soaked to the skin and looking over his precious loaves of bread with broken, dirty fingernails is not something any shopkeeper who gives a shit wants to see on his property. She guesses that the only reason he hasn’t chased her out yet is because of her new trick: reach into her empty pocket and ruffle around in it, while slipping the sound of clicking plastic and glimpses of Lien cards into the man’s mind, making him think that she is a paying customer, if a distasteful one.

Emerald swallows, trying very, very hard not to look at him, only at the paper-wrapped bread arranged on the table before her as if hung up about which one to buy. She doesn’t want to be here. She’d have a much easier time with the convenience stores further downtown, where the tall shelves hid her better, the workers usually didn’t give her a second glance, and she could grab bottles of water and one of those huge boxes of crackers that would keep much longer than bread. But lately there were more and more obstacles popping up between her and a bite to eat there: her Semblance didn’t work on security cameras, her face was becoming too familiar, as someone who came in often but never could seem to buy a thing, and eventually even the laziest, most apathetic workers are bound to notice something at some point.

So here she is, so scared her stomach is doing backflips and struggling not to give herself away by trembling too much. But if she can pull this off right, she’s only seconds away from her first meal in days. Taking a deep, steadying, hopefully inconspicuous breath, and picks up the biggest loaf of bread within her reach. She pretends she didn’t just feel the shopkeeper’s glare intensify like a hot dagger to her neck, pretends to simply be examining her choice, while in reality she’s trying to concentrate. It’s more difficult than she’d thought; she hadn’t expected her head to start hurting so bad so fast. Even without the voice in the back of her mind --

(“You won’t ever do that to me again!”)

Don’t think about it! Don’t look...Don’t look...just focus, right over there, behind him, picture it...

Damn it, this is so hard, too hard, she should have practiced more but it hurt too much, she can’t use her Semblance on someone she can’t see, she should just forget it and go but the bread is fresh and warm in her hands and it’s so big and she’s so hungry --

Now!

“Wha - ?!” the shopkeeper squawks. He spins around, eyes bulging, to the nonexistent crash of metal behind him. The other two customers look up, startled at the random outburst. And Emerald is off like a shot, tucking the bread under her arm and bursting out the door, cringing at the chirpy ring of the mounted bell announcing her flight. The torrential rain is coming down even harder than before, like a thousand sharp, freezing needles assailing her. Its rushing, splattering sounds are loud in her ears, playing counterpoint to her pounding pulse, but not so loud that she can’t hear the shopkeeper’s wordless roar of rage behind her. She turns her head, chances a look through the front window, and her heart leaps into her throat.

Did he just vault over the counter?! Seriously?!

The man -- the absolutely gigantic man -- throws open the front door and starts barreling down the street after her, fists clenched and eyes wide and bloodshot, and a strangled gasp escapes her. She sprints even faster, shoving and elbowing past the staring passers-by flooding the narrow sidewalk (all of a sudden there’s too many of them, a wall of flesh moving to trap her), as she hears the all-too-familiar hunting cry booming behind her.

“Thief! Thief! Stop her!”

Desperate to escape, she wheels around and bolts down the closest alleyway. There’s no way she can fight this guy off, she thinks frantically, but even up here, Mitsubachi’s backstreets have a way of becoming downright labyrinthine to those who don’t know them, so she might be able to lose him. If there’s one thing she’s gotten very, very good at, it’s running. She can hear thundering footsteps splashing through the puddles behind her, but she knows that big, heavy opponents can run hard, but not fast. And certainly not for too long, either; when they chase her like this they lose steam within a minute, before they can get near her --

“I’m going to catch you, brat!”

Emerald startles and very nearly slips on the wet stone. Shit! That’s too close!

She had thought that she was running as fast as she could, but sheer terror spurs her on even faster. Everything starts to pass her in a dark grey and black blur, and she moves by reflex alone, the instincts of a rat fleeing a wild dog. Walls fly by, rain blurs her vision and rushes in her ears, she turns one corner, then turns another, runs down an empty street, turns, turns, runs straight, turns, glances back, runs straight --

“Ow!”

-- into something hard and splintery. Dazed, rubbing her scraped forehead, Emerald looks up, and her heart drops when she sees the wooden fence set up before her, right in the middle of the narrow alleyway: a few wide, thick boards looming above her head, with towering apartment buildings on either side of her. Surprise only holds her still for a second, before panic sets her off again. Clutching the bread tighter under her arm, she jumps up and grabs the pointed top of a board, hooking her other arm over it.

The wood is wet and rotten, and she can only hope it won’t break under her weight, slight as she is. It shouldn’t be that hard, she reassures herself, she’s hopped plenty of damn fences. The rain beats down on her upturned face, and the worn, tractionless soles of her shoes scrabble against the slick surface. The wood makes an ominous creaking sound as she pulls herself up, and she can hear her pursuer still close by, but she can’t look back, she’s almost home free!

But just as she’s about to throw herself over the fence, those footsteps reel around the corner into the alley, and a wide, meaty hand grabs the back of her shirt and flings her out into the building by their side. She cries out in pain as her thin body slams against the concrete wall, and the loaf of bread flies from her hand and drops to the filthy wet cement along with her. Unthinking -- the only thing in her head is a desperate siren of terror -- she makes to grab for it, but is kicked back against the wall the instant she tries.

Before she can do anything -- beg, flee, bargain -- the man is bearing down on her, fists bigger than her head pummeling every inch of her he can reach. She screams, cries like a beaten dog, and tries to scramble away, but he won’t let her under the storm of blows. Her ears ring and her vision flashes red with every hit, her nose is crushed with a sickening crack, and she can feel skin and bone bruising fiercely. And in between it all is what little she can understand of the man’s bellowing and cursing her:

“...teach you to -- fucking little -- should have just -- piece of shit thief!”

She only barely hears it, she doesn’t care. All she can think to do is try weakly to shield herself, curl up like a ball like an insect, with her knees tucked up into her chest, arms crossed in front of her face, and eyes shut tight.

Stop it, please stop, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please, please just stop!

It might have been seconds, it might have been a few more agonizing minutes, but eventually it does stop. She doesn’t relax, doesn’t even dare to breathe, but the fists stop coming and she hears the man straighten up, huffing with exhaustion. The next noise he makes sounds more like a bear’s growl than human speech, to her ears.

“You...” The slam of a boot on the ground; she flinches as foul-smelling water is splashed into her face. “That better have taught you a lesson, you little rat. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to the cops right now.”

Don’t move, don’t look, don’t move, don’t look, oh, gods, please, don’t...

There’s no more. Another moment of tense silence, and then the sound of the man’s footsteps retreating, growing fainter and farther away until she can’t hear them any more. Even then, it takes a few minutes before she can relax the painful tension of her muscles and uncurl herself again. In that time, no one comes, not to help and not to hurt. She supposes that that, if nothing else, is fortunate.

Her head is spinning, and she's going to have so many bruises later. But it doesn't feel like she's got a concussion, or like anything’s broken, or permanently damaged. Still, it’s slow going, pulling herself back up to her feet. As if her legs are made of rubber, she wobbles, staggers, braces one hand against the wet brick wall before she's able to stand without nearly keeling over. Her legs still shake, but she tries to walk anyway.

Come on. Keep walking. Walk. One step at a time. No sense in lying here all day. Walk. It’s going to be okay.

Emerald makes it up to a relatively steady standing position. Her ribs are already aching with every breath, even before she tries to move. She takes one small step, that sends pain shooting up her legs. Then another, then...Half of another. She nearly trips on that third step, and by chance her eyes land on the loaf of bread on the ground, that she'd almost forgotten.

It's barely recognizable as the same thing she'd laid her hands on not five minutes ago. The bread had flown out of the paper wrapping, and been quickly reduced to mush by the rain relentlessly pounding on top of it and the muddy water puddling below. It hardly even looks like food anymore. But...It's still there.

Hot tightness grips her throat, and she immediately swallows hard and digs her nails into her palms to stave off the tears before they can come. Don't be such a baby, Emerald scolds herself, and stumbles toward it.

She bends down and scoops the soggy mess into her hands, trying her best to hold it together. The one blessing she has ever been given in this life, she thinks as she shoves the first bite in her mouth, is that she was born without a gag reflex.

It's a long way through the backstreets, and the pain in her legs and ribs only gets worse with every step. She manages to eat the ruined bread at a steady pace, and she makes it near the end of the last alley. There’s a dumpster there, and the back doors she’d passed had been for food places, she thinks, maybe it’s worth a try...Barely anyone’s passing by, no one should see if she just waits a second...

Against her better judgment, she shifts her grip on the bread so she can stealthily push the dumpster’s lid up so she can at least peek in. It clunks faintly, but doesn’t budge one bit. Locked. Of course. Hardly any of them are open these days. And if they are, all the food’s covered in fucking bleach or something. Just to spit in her face. She can’t even get the satisfaction of slamming the stupid thing shut before she stumbles the last few feet to the end of the alley.

Fuck it. Her lungs are killing her and her head is still floaty and spinning...She has to stop. Drop, more like: her knees give out and she winces as her backside hits the rough concrete harder than she’d meant to. Well...At least she hadn’t landed in another puddle, she tries to reassure herself.

That does not, however, make her any less cold or less wet. She sits on the edge of the alley and the sidewalk, at the side of the dumpster, and forces the next bites into her mouth. There’s a shop on her other side, but the awning over its front is too short by far to provide her with any protection from the rain. She looks around for a stray sheet of cardboard, or something else that she could maybe prop up over herself, but no good. She’d managed to get her hands on a coat a few weeks ago, and a nice big one too (winter is coming on fast and pneumonia with it, as always, and even if she wasn’t going to be sick northern Mistrali cold is torture enough), but it had been stolen off her while she slept just the other day.

Emerald shivers, and not entirely from the cold. She’s lucky that’s all that had happened, before she had woken up and run away. Thank gods her Semblance is perfect camouflage.

Mechanically, she keeps biting at the bread, hoping it didn’t pick up anything on the ground that will make her sick later. She can’t afford to throw this up...She should be figuring out what to do next, but she’s tired and she hurts and she’s cold and wet and — !

Calm down. Just...Just try and take a second to rest?

Gingerly, she leans back against the brick wall, looking at the street beside her. There’s no cars on the street, but plenty of pedestrians walking up and down the sidewalk on both sides. Scanning her surroundings, she can spot a few people like her around, too. One boy about her age, hurrying by with a downturned face and shoes held together by duct tape, with a tarp held over his head to protect him from the rain. A woman with long, matted hair, sitting on the stoop of an apartment building down the street, hunched over under multiple mismatched layers of clothes, a piece of cardboard with a black marker message on it propped against her knees. An old man sitting on the corner across the street, twitching, wild-eyed and wild-haired, with a single Lien card dropped into the overturned hat in front of him. None of them make eye contact with her, and she doesn’t mind that.

She doesn’t need anybody, she tells herself. It doesn’t matter that she’s overlooked, when she’s not causing trouble. Nobody else cares, why should she?

She’s lost count of how many times she’s tried to remind herself of things like this. And yet, it’s never cooled the hot needle of shame and anger that stabs at her heart, when they look at her like that. The people who pass right by her with nice warm clothes and wide umbrellas to protect them from the sleet, who have money and homes and families and lives to go back to, who glance down at her for a split second and then hurriedly look away again, the way you look and not-look at a particularly disgusting piece of roadkill splattered across the street. Again and again and again, every single one of them.

Emerald’s body is still frozen to the bones but her belly turns hot with anger. She knows what they’re thinking: they wish she didn’t exist, they wish they didn’t have to see or think about her, they wish she would disappear, or at least go away. But where do they think she’s going to go?! Not home, certainly. They’d be happy if she just laid down and died, she thinks, gritting her teeth around another mouthful of bread mush. But not here, oh no. Somewhere away from decent people, where nobody has to see something like her.

She huffs, and bites her lip to try to cut off that train of thought. Going off on a mental tangent makes her feel righteously furious, but it won’t fill her belly any. And it won’t distract her from the other, even worse part of it all that just won’t get out of her head, no matter how long it’s been or how hard she tries to put it behind her.

Home.

Even after five years of roaming around Mitsubachi on her own, Emerald still knows exactly how far she is from that basement apartment at the east end of the city. She still hasn’t gotten up the guts to go anywhere near back there, either, even if she isn’t sure Mom even lives there anymore. She knows also that she’s not a little kid anymore, and what’s Mom going to do to her, anyway, if she does run into her again? She could use her Semblance to get out if --

(“GET OUT!”)

She gives her head a small shake; it’s still ringing in her skull. And those hard green eyes and sharp nails...She feels more nauseous than before. Yeah, no. Best to keep her distance. The panicked, childish whine of I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home had taken a long time to stop. But eventually it had, and she’s glad of it now.

Mom doesn’t want her. Fine. Emerald doesn’t need her, not one bit. She doesn’t need her and she doesn’t need a —

“Nice family!” Her eyes flick to the old man across the street, who has half risen from his corner with arms flung wide, at a middle-aged couple and their sons, not too much younger than Emerald. He isn’t going to hurt them, even she can see that; she isn’t sure he’s able to move his legs, from what she can see of how he moves. “Excuse me! You’re such a nice family -- Please, could you just give me a little -- ?”

The boys stare determinedly up and ahead, as if nothing is happening. The man wrinkles his nose and walks faster, while the woman looks distressed, surreptitiously taking her Scroll out, dialing three numbers, and putting it to her ear.

All right then, time to go, Emerald decides, scarfing down the last of the bread and swallowing hard. She’s been tased and smashed with nightsticks before, and she has absolutely zero desire to repeat the experience. The hooded lady and her sign have already made themselves scarce, she sees as she gets up and walks as fast as she can down the street.

Against her better judgment, she turns to take one last look at the scene behind her. The father is glaring back over his shoulder as the mother talks rapidly into her Scroll, no doubt trying to sound as frightened and appalled as she can. The old man looks confused at them more than anything.

Emerald grimaces before turning back and quickening her pace, just a little. She hopes the cops won’t hurt him too badly. Like the rest of them, he doesn’t have anyone around to protect him. Sturns her eyes forward again, determined to pay the idea no more mind. She’s seen such things before and she won’t stop seeing them anytime soon, so she might as well just stop letting it all get to her. And just as well...

There’s people walking in front of her, at varying distances. She inspects each one of them, gauging the risk versus reward of picking any of them as potential marks. She hadn’t been careful enough, before, she should have practiced more. It’s no excuse that every time she uses her Semblance --

(“You little freak, stay out of my head!”)

Emerald bites her lip. It’s not wrong to have it, she tells herself for the millionth time, it’s not. It’s her Semblance, there can’t be anything wrong or bad or disgusting about it. Her mom is the one that’s wrong, and yet...She still feels the ache in her gut and sharp sting on her scalp whenever she musters up the nerve to use it. It’s what landed her out here on the gods-damned street, after all.

Whining’s not going to put food in your mouth, she chides herself. Just suck it up. Stupid brat.

Okay...There’s a small hole-in-the-wall cafe on the corner of the street. Outdoor seating. No fence or railing to block off the round picnic tables with umbrellas over them. A girl in a bright green raincoat, only a few years older than her underneath the big hood, is the only one still there and her eyes are glued to her Scroll. Her pocketbook, more of a backpack looking thing, is hanging on the back of her chair, by only one strap. Where in the hell does she think she lives, Emerald wonders, that she can be so careless?

Everyone else is either looking determinedly ahead on their courses or down at the sidewalk, as it and the street are both still running with water. No security or cops or unfairly beefy shop owners around to stop her. She can do it. She can do it. She just has to be brave. Reach for her Aura...

(“You stay away from me!”)

She has to fight not to let her face contort in rage. Why won’t Mom just go away? Not like that’s an abnormal thing for a parent to do, anyways...

Focus, you dumbass.

It's a simple enough thing. Even if she were just a dime-a-dozen purse snatcher, it would be simple. But she is a cut above other thieves by her inborn ability alone...even if her lack of experience shoves her roughly back down to their level again. As she approaches the girl, she works up her nerve and concentrates on her visible temple. For an instant, the girl sees a mysterious flash of bright red in the cafe window in front of her, and her head jerks up in shock. And while she squints at the window trying to figure out what in the hell she just saw, Emerald takes the strap of the pocketbook in her hand without looking or breaking stride, slipping it onto her own shoulder as if it belonged to her all along.

She doesn’t remember where she learned it, but she was taught that if you run when there’s no one chasing you, you only make yourself look more suspicious. And she has no intention of being the one to trigger another chase. She turns the corner, out of sight, and heads back towards her usual haunts back downtown. Head up, eyes alert, and if anyone gives her a second glance, she changes the bag on her shoulder into a dripping-wet black garbage bag. She isn’t sure that it’s a very convincing illusion -- she’s not good with details yet -- but she only has to do it a few times and it seems to work.

It’s almost an hour’s walk before Emerald finally makes it to somewhere that’s usually safe. She’d been sleeping in an underpass for the past few weeks, but too many people complained about the increasing amount of sheet tents and mattresses on the side of their road, and she’d had to bolt from a police raid in the middle of the night. Parking lots and garages are tempting to sneak into to sleep, but she always ends up chased out within hours by security. When she was younger, she’d slept on benches and outside closed stores, but now it seems like every place she looks, there’s stainless steel dividers in the benches and black iron spikes in the sidewalk, that tell her very clearly where they’d all like her to go instead. She’s heard that there’s a burgeoning tent city of some sort a distance outside the city proper, in the forest, but...It’s not like she’s ever actually seen a Grimm before, but she knows she’d never like to risk meeting one. It’s safer to stay here.

So, for the past couple days, Emerald been hiding out in a few different places far, far downtown, where there’s not quite as much police presence. There’s a school that was shut down a few months back and still not turned into anyplace else; the blacktop is partially out of sight, and so far, she hasn’t seen anything in the way of cops or security guards. It’s getting dark now, and the pawn shop will be closed by now. So she’ll hang onto the bag for the night, and stop in first thing in the morning.

When she walks onto it, she finds that she’s not quite alone. In the opposite corner of the chain link fence and dark brick, there’s a much different kind of family than before: a man trying to keep two toddlers and a girl too small and thin for Emerald to reasonably determine her age in his arms, as they keep trying to run away to play in the rain and puddles. They look at her like a pack of raccoons in the dark, eyes dark and glinting in the streetlights, the kids curiously and the father glaring as if preparing to have to claw her away. She glares back, hand moving to her hip; with a flash of her Semblance, the man sees the glint of a knife under her shirt. There’s a sliver of dry-ish space from the slant of the roof on each side, and she lays herself down on it. Satisfied that she won’t be bothered so long as she doesn’t move from here, she turns on her side to hide the pocketbook from sight and starts to paw through it.

Tissues, perfume, mints, eyeglasses case, pen, a...roll of duck-patterned duct tape for some reason? Those were all right, she guesses, but nearer to the bottom, and in the side pockets...Some green Lien cards and a layer of change, sanitary pads, full water bottle and bag of fruit snacks, a wallet with more cash and change, ID, and — !

Emerald’s brows furrow as she digs out a small fabric-lined box at the very bottom of the bag. It has an easily opened clasp, and she keeps it well inside the bag as she snaps it open. And when she does, she has to fight to keep the shock from showing on her face at the sight of a thin, gleaming chain, with a big jewel cut in a heart and set in silver in the center. The gemstone is beautiful, glittering green. Especially after a day like today, she can hardly believe her luck: all she has to do is keep it safe for the night and soon she’ll get...

Well, she has no actual idea of its value, she’s not smart like that, but she can still take it to the pawn shop first thing in the morning. Grisa will know what it’s worth, or if she doesn’t, one of her rotating employees/grandchildren will. It’s tempting to think about all the things she could buy, but it’s bad luck to get her hopes up before the new item is actually in her hands. And even then it could just as easily be snatched away from her.

Don’t you ever take anything for granted, baby doll, comes that soft, sinuous voice again at the back of her mind. The voice that comes within a hairsbreadth of caring about her. She can practically feel the sharp thumbnail running over her lip. Don’t you ever think that anything is yours to keep forever.

Emerald grits her teeth. Mom had absolutely lost her shit about Emerald’s newfound ability to get in her head, and now she won’t get out of Emerald’s head. It might be funny if it weren’t so annoying. And it wouldn’t be so annoying if Mom weren’t actually right about so many things. She replaces the necklace and slips the box into her pants pocket, hoping the outline doesn’t show too obviously.

She rolls over again, closing the pocketbook and clutching it to her chest with both arms like a teddy bear. She would use it as a pillow -- it’d be better than the thick black asphalt -- but this is safer. She’s not going to lose this like she lost her coat. The man across the blacktop is gathering the children to him the same way, eyes still alternating between glaring warningly at her and making sure that they are all accounted for. His age is uncertain, from the dinginess of his wrinkled skin and shaggy state of his hair and beard, as is what his relationship to the children might be. Might be a grandpa, or an older uncle of some kind. Might not be any blood of theirs at all.

But Emerald’s instincts say dad. And it’s another thought that makes her grind her teeth so hard she’s probably going to hurt herself one day.

She doesn’t know why she sometimes tries so hard to remember her father. Maybe it’s the idea, that Mom so spitefully hammered into her head, that she looks just like Dad and if she looks into her reflection, she’ll be looking at his face too. But even that doesn’t jog her memory. To her, after so long, Jade Sustrai is two blurry flashes of memory.

One, a retreating back that she had looked up at, as it passed through a pale-lit doorway, and then the slam of the door in her face. Had she watched obliviously, happily awaiting his return? Fearfully, begging him not to go? She doesn’t remember that part. She’ll never know.

Two, the sharp clap of his hand flashing out to grab Mom’s wrist, before her open palm slammed into his face. It was dark, but she thinks she remembers the angry curl of lips, a hiss of restrained fury -- from which one? Had it worked, or had it only made Mom angrier, hurt him worse? Had that hand ever moved to protect her, like that? She wonders...But she doubts it.

It had taken a longer time for her to accept her Semblance, freakish anomaly that it was, than it had taken her to accept the hot, nauseating weight in the pit of her stomach: the realization that her father had walked out of her life, right before her eyes, with barely a goodbye. For a dumb little kid like she had been, the concept of permanence was...not yet a permanent thing. It had taken an embarrassingly long time to get it through her head that Dad was gone for good.

(Her and Mama sitting on the stairs in front of the apartment, in the cold morning air.

She squirms; the stone is hard and steep. “Is Daddy coming back soon?”

Mama snorts, pulling a cigarette out of the carton lying against her leg. She doesn’t smoke very much, only when she’s angrier than usual. “He’s not coming back, Emerald. How many times have I told you?”

Plenty, but the repetition doesn’t make it make sense. Daddy just went to work, like he does every day. He always comes back. “His note said he would be back soon. That we just had to wait for him.”

Mama isn’t looking at her. The green plastic lighter in her other hand snaps twice and then flickers to life. “Don’t make me regret teaching you to read,” she says, too flatly for Emerald to tell whether she’s joking or not.

She doesn’t understand what Mama is so upset about. Maybe she forgot how it works. “It’s okay, Mama. Daddy leaves for a long time, sometimes. But he always comes back, and he brings stuff a lot of the time.”

She considers telling Mama about the magic trick Daddy did before he left, that made her heart glow. But Mama hates it when he does his disappearing trick, and when Uncle Akashi makes people dizzy with his hands. So maybe best to keep that a secret.

The ember at the end of the lit cigarette glows bright, an orange pinprick in her mother’s dark eyes. She takes a long drag and lifts her head up to breathe out a cloud of smoke, before she talks again. “Not this time, baby doll. It’s been two weeks and not a trace of either Jade or Akashi. No explanation except that stupid note. I can tell what happened. We’re on our own now.”

Emerald resists the urge to pout. That’s not true. “Daddy said he was coming back.”

Mama looks her in the eyes. The corner of her mouth tugs up into a smirk, but Emerald doesn’t see what’s funny.

“Emerald, if you go through your life just believing everything that everyone tells you, you’re going to have a bad time. I should never have trusted that rat bastard, let alone married him, but...Well.” She gestures with the cigarette at Emerald, who still isn’t quite sure what she means at times like this. “You’d better learn from this, baby girl. Don’t you ever trust anyone who can get inside your head that easily. Who can fuck with your head and your heart, and you can’t do anything about it.”

Something weird twists in her belly, and she doesn’t like it at all. It’s hard to look at Mama’s eyes, would be even through the smoke. “But he said. He promised.”

Mama sighs heavily, her smirk dropping. She doesn’t look mean anymore, she just looks...blank. Emerald still isn’t sure which expression she’s more afraid of. Her mother takes another long drag off the cigarette and blows upward again. “Your daddy said a lot of things he didn’t really mean.”

All of a sudden, her throat feels tight and it’s hard to talk. Her voice comes out in a tiny squeak instead. “Daddy said he loves us.”

Mama doesn’t answer at first. She looks at Emerald, not blinking, with a strange look on her face. Not loving, but not glaring either. Something softens the slightest bit in the lines of that face, and she reaches out towards her daughter with her free hand.

“Oh, baby doll,” she whispers, in that voice that’s almost gentle. Almost sad. She runs her fingertip lightly down Emerald’s cheeks and under her chin, back and forth; her one and only fully affectionate gesture. “What’s going to happen to you?”

Emerald is never sure whether she’s really looking for an answer, when she asks that question, but she figures she should give one anyway. “I don’t know, Mama.”

Mama makes a huffy kind of noise, that might be the beginning of a laugh. “Well. Maybe I’ll be around to find out, maybe I won’t.” She pauses, tilts her head. “You know, you’ve got Jade’s eyes exactly...With any luck, I won’t notice anything else of him in you.”

Emerald doesn’t know what’s lucky about that. “He’s coming back soon,” she tries again.

The fingers on her chin pause, too, grip a little tighter. Not enough to hurt, though. Mama sighs again, and there’s still a trace of sadness in her eyes. “I almost wish he had died instead. That would have been easier to get through your head, wouldn’t it? Might hurt less, too. At least he wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

She still doesn’t understand: why would Daddy want to leave? Where would he go? Why wouldn’t he let her come along?

Mama is taking her hand off her, leaning back again. She’s checking her messages on her Scroll’s cracked screen, and taking one last long drag on her cigarette before putting it out on the sidewalk next to her.

“Come on, now. I’ve got customers coming,” she says as she stands up, wiping her hand on her tattered jeans and reaching up to tighten her thick ponytail. “Looks like you’ll be coming to work with me for a while.”

Emerald crosses her arms and scoots back on the step. She doesn’t like going to work with Mama instead of Daddy; she never gets to do anything to help and some of her customers act all weird. She’s even seen Mama have to pull that gun she keeps under her shirt on them a couple times, so they’ll stay away from her when they’re like that. She still gives them the stuff in her bag, anyway, so long as they’re able to give her the Lien in return.

But Mama is tugging her up by the arm, zipping up the thin jacket she’s wearing over her dress. “I said come on, Emerald. You can’t stay here. You want someone to break in and snatch you up, so you’ll never see me again?”

Emerald’s breath catches, and she grabs her mother’s leg with both arms. “No!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Mama, not roughly, pulls her leg from Emerald’s grip. She hitches up the straps of her backpack and starts down the street. Emerald hastily trots after her, and Mama reaches down for her. “Hold my hand, now. I don’t want you running off on me too.”

Emerald doesn’t like not being able to run around, but she does like the feeling of her mother’s hand clasped around hers. Mama holds her more tightly, when she cares to, but Daddy holds her soft and warm, enveloping her whole body in his arms. She hasn’t thought before about which embrace she likes better, but she knows she misses Daddy’s.

Mama is wrong, Emerald thinks, though she probably shouldn’t tell her so again. Daddy will come back. He promised her he would, and her daddy would never lie. All she needs to do is wait, and she’ll see him again soon. She knows it.)

She should have known better.

A wave of deep shame and embarrassment hits her when she feels that same tightness in her throat and stinging in her eyes. Five years since she’d last seen Mom, eight since she’d seen Dad, and still there are times when she can’t stop herself from bawling like a baby about it. She’s still so stupid, she still...

She can’t look at the father and his kids across the blacktop again. She can’t handle the longing, that grips her weak heart and squeezes tight, for the arms around her that she can barely remember. Even relative safety is a distant memory for her, now. She’d thought that unlocking her Semblance was a good thing; even at eight years old, she had known that being able to make someone see anything she wanted was a powerful thing. A useful thing. Cool, at least, as far as her young mind could see. She had thought her mom would be happy, if she were to show it to her...

Gods, I was just trying to make her happy...!

Mom throwing her out...She doesn’t want to remember it, how terrified she’d been, how furious Mom had been. She’s done her best to block it out, even if it does still stubbornly bleed through.

(“I don’t care where you go, just get away from me!”

She’s never seen Mama so scared, so angry, in her life. As for her, she’s frozen, tears slipping down her face, and all of a sudden she can’t speak.

“M-Mama...? I-I’m sorry...I, I was just — “

“I said I don’t care! I’m not letting something like you in my head! You really are just like your fucking father!”

“Mama!”

“Shut up! GET OUT!”)

Her mother’s hatred and resentment, mixed with her own until she can’t tell the two apart, still burns in her blood. She’d been right, that one time: grieving somebody who was lost but not dead was a far more complicated pain. But even so, she thinks she could have handled it, if she hadn’t been all alone...If she was like those little girls, piled up together in their dad’s embrace, it wouldn’t matter if her mom didn’t want her, if she didn’t have anywhere to live. She would have had a home.

But the father she had didn’t seem to think she deserved that. She wasn’t worth sticking around to protect. And she still has no idea what she had done wrong.

Emerald curls up tighter around the pocketbook, the rough and cracked asphalt digging into her soaked skin, and shuts her eyes tight against the hot tears. They’re slipping out again, mingling with the cold rainwater still running down her cheeks. She hates herself for crying again, over two people who couldn’t care less about her. Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck them both for leaving her alone like this!

It hurts...!

Stop it. Shut up. Stupid brat. No one cares!

Forget about Mom and Dad. She has to keep herself under control, now. Every part of her hurts, she needs to sleep; no time to stay awake just to whine to herself all night.

Calm down...Calm down...Go to sleep, just go to sleep. Shh. Shhh...

Every muscle is tensed to run at a moment’s notice, should someone give her another rude awakening, and her eyes are shut painfully tight. The rain is still pelting her and pooling under her, and she feels like a drowned rat. Or a trod-upon one, soaked and sore to the bones.

It doesn’t matter. She’s fallen asleep feeling worse. All she has left to do is pray that no one will touch her tonight, and that her sleep will be dreamless.

~0~

Emerald wakes up in the morning getting the sense that only one of those prayers came true, but it doesn’t matter; whatever awful thing she’d dreamed that had woken her up still in tears, it fades from her head within a few minutes. Her body doesn’t seem to have been moved or touched, and everything is the same as it was yesterday in the pocketbook. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she slings it over her shoulder and walks as fast as she can the next ten blocks down to the pawn shop, scarfing down the bag of fruit snacks on the way there.

“Mm...Hmm.” Grisa holds the heart necklace up in front of her face and squints at it through her cataracts, then takes the jeweler’s telescope out of the little drawer by the register and squints through that too. “I’ll spare you the boring details: it’s pretty, but cheap. I can give you seventy Lien for them.”

“What?!” Emerald’s hand twitches with the urge to slam it against the counter in frustration. “No way it’s worth that little!”

Sarale, eldest of Grisa’s many grandchildren, sitting on the side stairs leading up to her apartment, pauses in cleaning her handgun to glance up at her through long golden bangs. She doesn’t move, though; she’s seen Emerald here enough to know that she isn’t one of the violent customers, and Emerald has seen enough of the older girl to know that starting a commotion in her family’s pawn shop would be a decidedly bad idea.

“You’re still not great at haggling, are you, Em?” she says mildly instead, and Grisa chortles.

Emerald looks down at the floor, all the fight quite suddenly blown out of her, and feels her face getting hot. “I...”

“No need to be sorry, dear,” Grisa assures her, setting the necklace down on the counter. “You’ve had a bit of a rough day, haven’t you?”

Emerald tries not to fidget, very conscious of the bruises on her arm, poking out from the sleeve of her shirt. They’ve darkened into obvious bluish-purple by now, and she dreads having to eventually look at the way the rest of them are mottling the skin of her torso.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad,” she says, trying to sound sure about it. “Are...It’s a real gemstone, right? Not some fake plastic thing?”

“Oh, the jade is real. But it’s not worth much. It’s small and poorly cut, and the rest is silver-plated, not real silver. Start stealing from jewelers instead of from pocketbooks and you might get something valuable.”

Emerald can’t hold back an annoyed huff. How is she supposed to do that? “Figures that the jade is worthless,” she grumbles. It really is just her luck.

Grisa smiles. “You’ve got that talent of yours, you’ll be fine. Sniff out your brethren, why don’t you? Emeralds are worth more than jadeites and beryls put together.”

Emerald can’t resist a small smile. “Y-Yeah, I guess so.”

“Your dad’s old joke,” Sarale snickers. “Repeated it every damn time he came in here, I swear. Laughed every time, too.”

Smile gone. That hadn’t taken long at all. “Yeah, good for him,” she snaps, hoping she doesn’t sound too petulant. The next words slip out without her really thinking about it: “You really never heard anything from him?”

“Nope, not a thing. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing or where he was going, except for his friend with the tail. I’ve got no clue what became of him.”

“He never...?” Emerald shakes herself. It doesn’t matter, she reminds herself. Dad doesn’t care and neither should she. “Never mind. Are...Are you sure that that’s all you can give me for the necklace?”

“As it is, yes. Tough break, hon.”

Story of her life. “I...” She starts to dig in the pocketbook again. There’s nothing else valuable in here, she knows, but still. “Is there...Is the bag itself worth anything?”

“Give it here.” Emerald sets the bag on the counter, and Grisa looks it over for several minutes, checking the brand and hardware. “Not the best and not new, but it looks like legitimate designer. Lucky you. Empty it out and throw it in with the necklace and I’ll bump you up to a hundred and fifty Lien, let’s say.”

Emerald nods, knowing it’s likely the best deal she’s going to get; she really isn’t good at negotiating terms for herself. “Great. Thanks, I mean.”

“Just business, dearie, don’t thank me. Here, I’ll throw this in, too, to make this less of a hassle — Rala, go up and get a bag out of the bag bag!”

Sarale holsters her gun and obediently trots up the stairs, where there is a large plastic bag on the landing just inside the apartment. Moments later, Emerald is handed a smaller plastic shopping bag to empty the contents of the pocketbook into, and the promised Lien for both items.

“Out of curiosity,” Sarale says as Emerald packs up. “What do you think you’ll spend your payday on?”

“Uh...Food, probably?”

“Fair enough.” Sarale goes back to polishing the gun, but Emerald suspects it’s only for show now; the older girl’s tawny eyes are fixed on her and not blinking. “Where have you been roaming around lately? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh, uh...Around.” Emerald can feel her face getting hot again and curses her quickness to embarrassment. “City’s big, lot of...ground to cover...”

“Hm. When are you going to go back to your mother? Do you think you could get me an acquaintance discount? I have some friends coming in from mid-Mistral next weekend, I want to show them a good time.”

She barely hears the rest of Sarale’s questions; the first one was too strong an electric shock, straight to her gut. “Wh...What?” she hears herself ask, more of a whimper than anything.

“Ignore Rala, dear; if I ever see her strung out on anything your mother sells, she’s out of my will.” Grisa is looking at her more gravely; Emerald will think of it in those terms because if she sees that roadkill look one more damn time she’s going to scream. “That woman doesn’t have much to do with us. But I hear that she’s been telling everybody who asks that you ran away from her, just like your dad. Has been for a long time now, after being so close-lipped about it.”

Emerald can feel herself trembling from head to toe. Mom’s been talking about her? Still thinking of her? Mom’s been...

“I...”

“So what’s up, Em?” Sarale smirks. “You trying to follow your daddy after all? I could swear I heard him say he was going to come back. Ought to be careful, you might just miss each other.”

Bile rises in Emerald’s throat, and she forces her next words out past it. “My mom’s a fucking liar,” she snarls, “and she and my shitheel dad deserved each other!”

Sarale blinks, raising her hands up defensively. “Hey, kid, easy now — “

“Shove it, Rala!” she and Grisa shout at the same time.

Her hands shake, and she clenches them hard into fists. She wants to...She just wants to...

Her eyes rove frantically around the wooden shelves of items behind Grisa, all up for sale. Jewelry and tools, of course, but then there’s old videos and electronics, a couple beat-up guitars, a dull katana that reaches almost to the top shelf, and...

She narrows her eyes at a pair of twin handguns, brownish, scratched up, and chipped. “Grisa, do those two guns work?”

“I don’t stock broken things, dear.”

“How much?”

“...Sixty Lien each.”

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to bump it down?”

“Sixty-five each, ammo and holsters included. Ammo by itself is fifteen per magazine.”

She figures that’s as good as she’ll get. She takes a deep breath, and it still feels like a good idea. She has more than that in cash, after the necklace and the bag and the money in there with it, so she’ll still have money left over for food. “I’ll take them.”

Grisa nods, and the exchange takes less than a minute. Emerald takes longer than that to figure out how to both load and clip the things to her belt, and gets more annoyed every second.

“...See, Gramma, I told you Beryl was bullshitting you.” Sarale smirks. “You owe me that katana now.”

“I do not and you should have gotten it in writing. Emerald, dear, do you need help with that?”

“I’m fine.”

Emerald turns on her heel and stalks for the front door. She hears the clatter of Sarale perking up again, and grits her teeth.

“Hey, Em, try not to get beat up too bad next time! I, at least, would miss having you around -- Ow, Gramma!”

Emerald allows herself a fleeting smirk of her own at the sound of something being thrown at the older girl as she leaves the shop, trying very hard not to slam the door behind her. She stalks down the cracked and dirty sidewalk, and by the grace of the gods no one spares her an even slightly menacing glance. Well...Not yet, anyways. But she’ll take what she can get.

She’s in more familiar territory now. Crumbling brownish-red brick buildings, barred and boarded-up windows and doors, the heavy and lingering odor of sewage and unwashed bodies in the air: the closest thing to home she knows. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she figures it doesn’t matter yet; she has nothing but time on her hands.

The weight of the twin pistols at the small of her back feels strange, but she’ll get used to them; they’re not wholly unfamiliar to her. She remembers being little, in the sewer-smelling alley next to their building, with empty soda cans and beer bottles set up as targets on the closed end, and her mother standing at the open end, dark green eyes burning into her back, just waiting for her to screw up so she can yell at her for it. She remembers her small soft hands trying to fit properly around Mom’s gun, how big and cold and heavy the metal had felt as she clumsily lifted and aimed.

She cannot believe her mother’s nerve: lying about her, covering up what she did! She...She has to know what she did was horrible and wrong, but still she won’t admit to it or try to fix it. She can’t tell what makes her sicker, that or her father waltzing on out of her life like she doesn’t even exist. If she ever sees either of them again...

Hesitantly, she reaches back and runs a finger over the butt of one of her new guns. It’s longer than a standard handgun, but when she wraps her hand around it...It feels just right in her grip.

The coolness of the metal jars her back out of her own thoughts somewhat. She lifts her head up a little higher to look around at where she finds herself now, and it takes more effort than usual to make her brain do that instead of once again calculating the distance between here and her mother’s place (much closer now than it had been this morning). She catches the scent of frying fat and burnt vegetables on the air, not unfamiliar. Ah. She’s wound up right by Okela’s shop.

Of all the back-alley shops and eateries around her old neighborhood, this is probably the one that’s the least transparent about how...untrustworthy the food is. Passing by the alley that their back door leads into, she can see a scruffy young man with a bloodied switchblade in one hand and a dead possum in the other, presenting the animal to the baggy-eyed cook leaning in the doorway. Okela looks it over, deems it fit for consumption, and beckons the man inside. Emerald feels a reflexive churn in her stomach, but doesn’t sound so bad, money and a free bowl of her mystery meat soup. She’s eaten it before, when she can afford it, but never been able to catch any animals quick enough to earn it.

Rats and mice are too fast and not big enough to be worth the effort. Most of the bigger vermin — skunks, possums, raccoons, the like — only come out at night, but she has distinct broad-daylight memories of starting to dig into a trash can for food and coming face to snout with a large raccoon who had decided that this trash was his, so maybe she’d get...Well, it would be lucky this time around.

And as it happens, after passing by two separate conspiracy theorists screaming on street corners about how the Mistral Council is plotting to kill them all, a minor street brawl between a human gang and a Faunus gang, and one pigeon being hit by a speeding police car, she spies it: a shady side street, a pair of ripped-open garbage bags, and one fat raccoon happily digging into the spoils. Jackpot.

Emerald creeps into the alley and slips one of the guns out of its holster. She’ll find a place to practice dual wielding another time; now she just needs to get the hang of firing one gun again. Slowly, she raises the gun, pointing it at the head of the unsuspecting raccoon. It’s smaller than a soda can, but the closer distance...probably makes up for it? Much as she tries to forget, she still feels those eyes boring into her back.

(“This is easy, anyone can do it.” Sharp fingers yanking on her hair, nails digging into her arm. “Don’t fuck it up, now.”)

Emerald swallows a growl. Get the fuck out of my head, Mom.

She can do this, now. She’s more comfortable with a gun in her hand than a blade. Dad had never bothered to teach her the intimacies of his preferred weapon...small among all the things her father had never bothered to do for her, but it burned just as badly as any of the others. Both of them are nothing more than a raw open wound in her chest, that over the years she’s only learned how to patch over, not close up.

But even so, when she clicks the safety off and steadies her hold on the gun, it’s that dark, thin blur of a back, with a short green ponytail hanging down onto it, that she sees as her target. That’s where all of her problems had really begun, hadn’t they? With that retreating back and slam of the door, she had been alone. Alone, for good, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.

She can’t fix it. She’ll never fix it, not with a bullet or anything else. But still, the image doesn’t go away.

Emerald pulls the trigger, and blood flies.

[aphcupcake]

OC Name: Miko Hirokei

Age (Birthday?): 20-22 [12/21] - Late teens/Early adult when recruited

Original Village/Background: The Land of Permafrost of the Yukigakure. 

Miko was born for the simple fact her physical being could withstand and contain the beast that terrorized the borders of the two villages. Once the beast was sealed within her, she was given up by her parents, giving her to two surrogates that pretended to be her parents but were high ranked Shinobi entrusted with her care and training for her to be used as a weapon in a possible shinobi war. The beast was given the ironic name of the Yuki-Onna, it was a frightening beast as most who encountered it died a icy death and could still be found in their last positions as they were frozen solid.

Her training lead her to take the Chunin exams with a team she knew for less than a month and ranked up fast, eventually becoming an A.N.B.U. around her mid teen years due not only her skill but dedication to protect the village she loved. She was even recognized by the village leaders to be an important asset to them.

She never questioned any mission she was on and was thorough when it came to discreetly taking out anyone who posed a threat; every death looking as if the person passed from hypothermia and frostbite. She was effective and the chakra boost she gained from the monster inside of her made her a force to be reckoned with. She had gained the respect from the village she loved so much and those who didn’t know the truth about her showered her in gifts and praise when they saw her. She was genuinely happy and worked harder to upkeep everyone’s expectations..  

She was kept from the files of her origins, it didnt last for very long. She knew her ‘parents’ weren’t hers; their appearances didnt match hers in the slightest. During the night she broke into the most sensitive files of the village; what she found out made her entire body freeze, metaphorically and physically. She left the room before she was found and went off to find her real parents, hoping that they would want to get to know her after seeing all of her accomplishments.  She was wrong. They started screaming and yelling about how she was a mistake and how she wasn’t theirs due to her birthing reasons. Her heart broke into thousands of pieces. She left their home quietly and set out on a personal mission. She waited for the village leaders next to attend an important meeting, in her ANBU uniform with the mask, and immediately dispatched all of the leaders. She didn’t make a clean getaway, instead she made sure to leave a mess behind, leaving a note. She didn’t have any qualms of leaving the village soon after, leaving the frozen lands she knew and began her travels under a false name, Maiko. She’s listed down in the Shinobi bingo book as “Do Not Engage” as she is a expert dragging out battles with those out for her before toying with him and killing them.  

Appearance: Images above drawn by Me. Better sta.sh link to better Res

Powers: She has a dual chakra nature for being from the Snow village, both wind and water. She can super cool any water jutsu she knows into ice, altering its original purpose and vice versa for super cooling the wind with water. She uses both the Snow release style and Ice release style jutsu; always working on ways to make them more and more potent. Her skills mostly are to hinder and tire out the opponent then going in for the kill. The more and more she fights with a person, the more snow will start to form around them, making her jutsus more potent as the snow was filled with her chakra. Her trump card jutsu is a personal creation called “Hyoton: Yuki-Musume” It creates an impenetrable snow storm that can be as isolated as five meters in diameter or can get to roughly 30 meters depending how strong she needs it. She uses the snow storm to strike, using  Yuki Henge Yusuo no Jutsu to come at the enemy from multiple directions; disorienting them then knocking them out  she needs them for information, or killing them if they pose a threat to her personal being or to her mission. 

The beast inside of her gives her not only an expansive chakra reserve and stamina boost but also a strong resistance to the cold. Unfortunately this can be used against Miko as she is very susceptible to extreme heat and Katon jutsus. The heat can weaken her quite a bit but only makes her that much more aggressive towards whoever is attacking her. The beast; who she lovingly calls Yukina, refuses to let her die and when she is overly exhausted it will slowly freeze her body into mild coma after a major fight to speed up the recovery process. It will throw off those who arent familiar with her but once she is mostly recovered she will “thaw” out and act as if nothing had happened.

Personality: 

She finds fun in a good fight, jovial at times with the right people once she’s comfortable; will make jokes and whatnot. She’s normally pretty easy to get along with; she’s very calm and compromisable on most things. Though will not hesitate to question motives if it doesnt align with what she thinks is the best course of things. Its caused plenty of infighting when she was a chunin and jounin but didnt hesitate to still do her job. She doesnt see shinobi as black and white, only as grey do to their leaders pulling the strings so she doesnt blame those who try to carry out their missions; only those who gave he missions and caused the loss of life. She has no qualms with killing at her age and has no hesitations unless its a small child or someone she knows is truly innocent. 

Motivations/Goals: 

To take down the very village that deceived her from the day she was born and rebuild it to what she believes is the right way. 

Nail Polish Colour (VERY IMPORTANT): icy blue

Ring Kanji (message me if you need help picking a kanji!):  冷 - Cold

Is it ok for other people to make art of your OC?: totally! Just shoot me a a mention in the post or tag me in the tags!

Is it ok for other people to use your OC in fanfic? Yeah! I’m so for it! send me a link to it too or shoot me a message if you want clarification on Miko’s character! I’ve had her as an OC since I was 12 and she’s like a child to me!

Any other notes:

Her fighting style could be somewhat compared to dancing, her movements being extremely fluid to those who are watching from the sidelines. She uses a segmented staff with an open ring in the middle; the metal on the ring and chains being highly chakra conductive and she uses it to flash freeze parts of the opponent to slow down their mobility. 

When she is getting the boost from Yukina, parts of her skin will begin to frost, or freeze, over. It being a side effect of the beast being inside of her. It mostly numbs any pain she would feel for a short time before the cold would start to burn her instead. Its not meant for a long time boost. 

She was recruited while travelling through the waterfall village. Itachi and Sasori were dispatched to recruit due to both being able wield fire, Kakuzu was dispatched on a bounty run once again. It was definitely a battle either side were expecting. It ended up in more or less a draw, Miko’s ice heavily damaging Sasori’s puppet joints and Itachi’s katon burning her more than once. Her being recruited was for there to be a large jutsu range for the Akatsuki to have in their arsenal. She would be paired up at random with preexisting members for certain missions. 

There are certain interactions between herself and other Akatsuki members. Her and Konan have a mutual high respect for each other. Both strong willed women who have unknown potential. She’d do anything Konan would ask with little to no hesitation. She has a mild distrust of and respect for the artist duo, she respects their dedication to their craft but they an easily counter her abilities so she keeps a small distance while friendly.  She and Itachi work well together, the biting cold and the severe heat of their combos being a deadly force together. She works best surprising with Kisame and Kakuzu, their natural chakra natures blending well with her own. She has a hard time working with Hidan however, him not sticking to plans and going off on his own making it hard to truly get the missions done as quickly as possible; their pairing up would be a very rare team up.   She’s only spoken to Pein a handful of times between missions, not having any good or bad feelings towards him; just very neutral with a respect you give a higher ranked officer. She’s only seen and spoken Zetsu a few times, him just only really passing along the message that she’s needed for a mission. 

[whopooh]

Great tension in the Miss Fisher fanfic – post number 2

The tension is palpable.

Some weeks ago, I wrote a post on the theme of Unresolved and resolved sexual tension in the Miss Fisher fanfic, where I collected great quotes submitted by the fanfic readers. Here is post number two, and I apologise for the delay. A third will come soon! 

Thank you to everyone who took their time to send me recommendations – you are the sweetest! The text about every fic is from the recommender!

So, here goes:

“Kneel” by @edeainfj/deedeeinfj (chapter 1 of “Investigations”). Recommended by @firesign23:

In “Kneel” from deedeeinfj’s “Investigations”… well, there are times I am just going about my totally not Phrack-centred life and moments from this drabble cross my mind. (I could actually say the same about pretty much all of her work, to be honest, but this was one of the first ones I read so it’s getting the shout-out). But It’s a beautiful story about pleasure and control, and the unexpected depths of passion in our beloved inspector. And I can’t reduce it, every piece integral to the outcome, so you can get it in full:

Phryne judges her lovers on their first reaction when she kneels to pleasure them with her mouth. She doesn’t like being told that she doesn’t have to, as if she doesn’t know that damn well already. As if she, Phryne Fisher, would kneel and put a cock in her mouth if she didn’t want to. A man who is forthright about wanting his cock sucked is a man who truly understands the pleasure of giving pleasure. He is a man who will put himself at the mercy of his lover—even a woman. He is a man who isn’t afraid of losing control of his power or his body. He is a man who is willing to take, to submit to what is freely given. When she kneels and her partner begs her to continue, she aches with desire.

So, the first time she kneels before Jack, her heart sinks a little when he lays a hand on her head and says, “Wait.”

She should have known that he would fall into the gentlemanly, chivalrous category, but still she had hoped—

He continues, though. “Wait. Let me sit,” he says, out of breath, voice hoarse, fingers curling in her hair until it’s almost painful. “I can see you better this way. And I don’t think I’ll be able to keep standing while you do that.”

His smile is sheepish, but the one she flashes in return is devilish, happy, adoring. She doesn’t give him time to beg.

“Perhaps Another Time” by @mercurialbianca / TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy. Recommended by @geenee27:

The author writes a delightful epilogue to “THAT SCENE” containing a lethal dress and dangerous lingerie. What happens, after these two have thrown charged words and filthy looks each other, is superbly explored from Phryne’s point of view:

“Perhaps another time. At a less dangerous hour, in a less lethal dress.” Phryne Fisher knew “a tell” when she saw one and the flutter of his eyelids confirmed her suspicions. His lips may have said he was leaving for the evening, but his eyes had given her an I.O.U. And his voice had unmistakably lowered half a register. A little thrill ran through her. Flirting with Jack Robinson had become a favorite pastime, she was now thinking there was a very real chance it might become a contact sport.

I love how much Phryne recognizes a worthy opponent when she sees one.

Not always, Miss Fisher.

“Appropriate” by @whopooh. Recommended by @geenee27

Aunt P interrupts Phryne and Jack’s “Not Always, Miss Fisher” moment; however in this wonderful tale it happens later as she catches them in a scenario not particularly ‘appropriate’. There is lots of delicious reactions from Phrack, Mac and Aunt P, about the interruption, in the following days, but I particularly chose this passage relating to Jack’s thoughts as he beats a hasty, embarrassed retreat and is driving home:

He already knew something about kissing Phryne, but he hadn’t imagined the difference it would make that she was now fully aware of what was happening, and focusing on him. He took her in his arms, like he had wanted to do more times than he could count. He revelled in feeling her against him, sensing her through that thin robe she was wearing. As their kiss grew heated, he felt a bolt of lightning burn straight through him, almost incinerating him. This was how it felt to kiss Phryne Fisher – to press her to him, to hear her whisper against his lips. It was like containing electricity in his arms, like being scorched beyond recognition and not regretting it for a moment.

First real kiss – perfection. Is it getting warm in here?

For jeneep’s “Sweltering”, I received two recommendations:

“Sweltering” by @jeneenp/Collingwoodgirl. Recommended by @federalistdarling:

Can I quote the whole thing?

I love this piece because it seems such a realistic crescendo to the will they/wont they nature of their relationship. It seems typical Phryne to catch Jack off guard and even goad him a bit then to have her quote Shakespeare to him almost as an olive branch for her naughty behavior.

A frustrating beginning and a sweet and somewhat sweaty ending. Haha!!

God, she wanted him. Months of doing this little dance - this slow waltz with Jack - had left her feeling dizzy, almost desperate, with desire for him. The feeling was mutual, she knew, but whether out of propriety or fear, he had managed to parry each and every one of her advances. Well, not this time, she assured herself. (from chapter 1)

When Jack dared take his eyes off the road, he could see Miss Fisher attempting to nonchalantly observe his every move through her dark sunglasses. It was far too loud in the roaring motor car to talk and he could feel the expectation and anticipation building between them. (from chapter 2)

“Sweltering” by @jeneenp​/Collingwoodgirl. Recommended by @kanste:

A heatwave, a picnic and a hail storm – what more do you need? Ah, yes, Phryne seducing Jack with Shakespeare. Here is one great quote from this wonderful story:

The last of the ink residue long since vanquished, her fingers continued to caress his hand. He finally allowed himself to look up at Phryne’s face and found that his gaze was met instantly by darkened eyes. A sultry smile was bestowed on him, her lips twisted in a bright red bow that he ached to unwrap. Jack was so caught off guard by her unmasked attraction, he actually smiled back. He saw her eyes widen in surprise and triumph and he felt immediately wrong footed.

“Ah, thank you,” he murmured, half surprised that he could speak at all and reluctantly wrenched his hand and eyes away from her.

Phryne let his hand slip away but continued to smile, a wicked glint sparkling now in her eye. She had been watching him closely as he had given himself permission to take her in, indulge in her touch and proximity. She could practically feel the heat smoldering from him. All she needed to do was strike the match and pray that the fire would consume them both.

“You’ve got more,” she informed him, her voice as smooth as the whiskey.

She raised her hand to his face and skimmed a curled finger across the soft skin under his chin, her thumb braced against the small cleft.

“Just here,” she breathed, reveling in the feeling of his tender flesh, how his eyes fluttered shut at her touch, the tiny shudder that seized through him and electrified her fingers.

A tiny huff of breath escaped his lips, sharpening his features. But before he could protest, she brandished the whiskey-soaked handkerchief again and was blotting his throat, careful to let the backs of her fingers brush against as much of his exposed skin as possible.

Jack sat stock still, seemingly in utter anguish as his body rejoiced at her touch while his brain stuttered for a reason to stop her.

Phryne had lowered her face so close to his, she could feel his breath ghosting against her, count the green flecks in his aquamarine eyes. She felt his adam’s apple bob against her hand and knew his self-control was tenuous at best.

“Phryne,” he whispered. His nostrils flared as he spoke and it was the sound of her given name on his lips - the pleading tone in which it was uttered - that provoked her.

“Are you alright?” she asked - the very picture of innocence. “You seem a bit overheated, Inspector,” she challenged, looking him directly in the eye and refusing to give an inch.

Are we on stage or not, Miss Fisher?

“Nine Times Out Of Ten” by @ollyjayonline. Recommended by @whopooh:

There is such delicious tension in this story, in the way Phryne and Jack have one relationship in reality, and then plays up another version – where she needs to pretend to be interested in him, while he not in her – and @ollyjayonline explores the uncertainty about what is play and what is real in such a wonderful and very tense way.

Here is a lovely passage showing the two layers:

“I’m making things right, everyone here is now very clear that I have decided to put an end to your budding romance with Miss Bowen - oh and I’m about to seduce you.”

“Really?” his eyes flashed back to hers, “Am I going to enjoy it?”

“No. I need you to look uncomfortable and perhaps a little angry, remember we’re only professional colleagues and you know better than to get romantically involved with a woman like me.”

He nodded, this was a role he knew how to play.

And this is a wonderful example of how the two layers are starting to blend together for Phryne:

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” she had whispered, gazing up into his eyes, as she let her hand wander possessively over his upper arm, “I want you to look like you’re telling me how inappropriate my behaviour is and then leave.”

“This is me telling you Miss Fisher that I would appreciate it if, next time you decide to play match maker, you leave me out of it,” he spun on his heels and walked away.

She stood there for a moment, unsure exactly how much of that had been acting.

And then it gets even more tense, because their play also harks back to hurtful actions in their relationship, reminding them of their own pain – and then the fic gives us an incredible release of the tension, after the break in this quote:

“Can we start again Jack? As friends? Please?” She would never admit, not even to herself, how often she had dreaded having to say these words to him.

He shook his head, “I don’t think that would work, last night you reminded me of feelings that I thought I had conquered.”

“Sounds serious,” the words were out before she could stop them, damn him for unsettling her like this.

A flash of pain appeared in his eyes and it took a moment before he replied, “It is.”

Upset at having unintentionally brought up their previous estrangement she reached out, seeking the comfort of what they were to each other now, only to have him step away.

“Good night, Miss Fisher.”

For the second day in a row she was left behind, alone and off balance.

***

As soon as he stepped in her cabin she threw him up against the door, claiming his mouth with a wild hunger. “Don’t you ever walk away from me like that again Jack Robinson,” her voice was dark and threatening, “You don’t get to leave me behind. Never!” Her hands moved roughly around his body undoing buttons, ripping off his bow tie, pushing off clothes in a frenzy that left him groaning helplessly against her.

Dragging her dress up over her hips she ground herself hard against his thigh, leaving him in no doubt exactly how much she wanted him. Her frantic desire was intoxicating and he spun them round, her back against the door, lifting so she could spread her legs around him.

(…) Her kiss in response was savage. Her teeth hitting against his, her tongue so deep in his mouth he was almost choking, her finger nails digging into his scalp until it hurt. And he came so hard he almost collapsed.

Reluctantly letting go of her thighs so she could take her own weight, he did his best to keep them both upright.

When he had finally caught his breath, “Dare I ask?”

“Its what I should have done,” she confessed, “all those months ago when you told me you were giving me up.”

“I’m fairly sure if you’d done that then, it would have scared me to death.”

“Not quite the reaction I would have been aiming for,” she conceded.

“That Moment is Now” by @phrynesboudoir/Sassasam. Recommended by @quiltingmom:

“That Moment is Now” by Sassasam is one of my absolute favorites (top 3 but they change positions all the time, lol). This fic for me has it all, the setting, the romance, the banter, the casefic but the sexual tension (resolved and unresolved) is off the chart. I really consider it probably one of the dirtiest and yet… I love it so much. Shhh don’t tell anyone.

Here’s one part that references URST and the anticipation of the possibilities as well as feeling Jack’s mind churning is just one of many moments in this fic that gives me goose bumps:

“I can feel your eyes on me,” she said, reaching for her wine and taking a sip. 

“I like watching you, what can I say,” he replied.

He faltered a little under the intensity of her gaze. Her eyes darkened as she appraised him and he felt like a child blundering through asking out a girl he fancied. But broach the subject he must. He couldn’t resist the siren call that was Phryne.

“About earlier,” he began. “What exactly did you mean?”

She leaned into him and whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he kept his voice low and quiet, “that some people actually enjoy that?”

“Some people, yes,” she affirmed. “It can be very liberating. Once you relinquish control to someone else.”

“I imagine it would take a great deal of trust,” Jack remarked.

“A very great deal. But I trust you Jack. I’d let you try some things, if you wanted to,” she answered.

“I’m not certain I could,” he leaned into her, whispered in her ear, “I mean could I? It wouldn’t be – gentlemanly. Some of the things I might want to try.”

She chuckled and batted her lashes at him. “But that’s the point, Jack. It’s like playing a role. We’re miles away from home. No one knows us here. To them we’re honeymooners wildly in love.”-

She smiled softly at him.

“What if I hurt you?” he asked.

“We could have a word. If things get uncomfortable for either of us, we could say- I don’t know- ‘Prudence’ and we’ll agree to stop,” she said.

Jack chuckled and ate a mouthful of chicken fricassee. “Well that would certainly put me off,” he admitted.

Phryne laughed and sipped her champagne. “You like the idea though, don’t you,” she said at last.

Jack took a deep breath, eyes downcast before looking her in the eye. “I do.”

She smiled. “It excites you.”

He nodded slightly. “It does.”

“The thought of what we might do.”

“Don’t,” he warned. “I’m not certain I’ll be able to control myself.”

"Something of a Miracle” by @heavyheadedgal. Recommended by @firesign23:

@heavyheadedgal’s “Something of a Miracle” is a fantastic first time fic, mingling expectations and reality in a way that’s both amusing and hot, and keeps the deep and abiding friendship between these two. It’s hard to choose an extract, but I suppose I’ll go with:

In some dim corner of his mind still capable of rational thought, Jack registered that Phryne liked it when he cursed. She liked it a lot. Years in the army and police force had earned him an extensive vocabulary of foul language, though he rarely used it. So much for romance, he thought, then put his mouth to her neck and murmured every filthy word he knew. She was sweating and scratching at his back and looked absolutely glorious.

It’s perfect for this challenge of restraint and tension: Jack letting go of what he thought he wanted to do what satisfies them both, and the image of Jack Robinson with filthy words is just too delightful for words.

“A Glass Splinter” by @firesign23, chapter 31. Recommended by @whopooh:

I completely adore this fic, and just reread it. I seem to especially love the “false RST,” where there seems to be a resolvedness to the sexual tension, but it’s not properly solved. Like in chapter 26 that I never seem to stop alluding to, where Jack and Phryne have excrutiatingly different views of what they’re doing – as well as here, in chapter 31, when they have a night of farewell. They are more sincere and open to each other than they have been previously in this fic, but it’s still tinged with sadness and parting, and the resolution of the sexual tension is only half:

“Miss Fisher.”

She reached up to cup his cheek.

“Say my name, Jack. Please. Just for tonight.”

He shuddered, the hastily erected walls between them crumbling once more.

“Phryne,” he breathed.

Nobody in the world said her name the way he did, like it was everything precious in the world, like it was a secret to be treasured, to be used sparingly in moments that mattered.

She kissed him, a light brush of her lips against his tampered with hesitance. His returning kiss was slow and shallow, his hand cradling her head. They pulled away at almost the same moment, sharing a small smile.

“One last gaudy night?” she said softly, hoping he would say yes. She couldn’t bear to end it already; there were hours before her ship left.

“No,” he said, and her heart fell. He gave her a sad, lopsided sort of smile. “A farewell, perhaps, but there is nothing gaudy about tonight.“

And then a bit further on:

“Do you love me?” He had been tracing circles across her skin when she’d asked; he’d shaken his head. “Would it change anything if I did?” “No,” she admitted; it was both freedom and duty that called her away. “Then spare me that one indignity,” he’d said, so quietly that she had almost missed it.

I hope this makes you want to go and reread some fics – it sure makes me want to do it! More recommendations will come very soon.