#swaying? straying? like you want her to go from a to b but she goes c in between just to see if you’ll correct her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusguks · 3 years ago

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Solace in Seoul

— Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader (Reader x Kim Taehyung on the side)

— Summary : the falling apart of you and kim taehyung, and the coming together of you and jeon jungkook

— Genre/Warnings : plot driven, angst, smut, fluff, sugar daddy/baby relationship, student/teacher relationship w kth, bsfs2lvrs w jjk, unprotected sex, creampie, degredation, oral (f receiving), jk just wants to love you :(, jk is the absolute sweetest really, spit drinking?, praise ( TW : MENTIONS OF FAMILY ABUSE/BRUISES )

ACT 1. | 134340

The first time you talk to Jeon Jungkook again, your mind is elsewhere, absorbed in the lingering absence of Taehyung.

Spring's gentle breeze carried distant laughter and a faint melody from the music club two floors down. The sky carried drifting clouds, the ocean carried rising tides, and you — You carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Or at least it felt like it.

The piles of envelopes concerning last two months’ unpaid bills have been devouring your dinner table and heart alike. After receiving the countless of threatening voicemails from your landlord, you'd be naive not to expect a visit—but opening the door to Mrs. Joomi’s bitter scorn didn’t make you feel any less anxious. Juggling two part time jobs all the while maintaining A’s and B’s was nothing easy to accomplish. Hell, living wasn't even easy, and yet, it was like nothing you did was ever enough.

Grief was your composer and you were her violin—her cruel euphony reverberated through your tears when you sat on the cold kitchen floor last night, sifting between your savings that barely made up one month's rent. On top of your midnight breakdown, your dad decided to come home yesterday out of all days and, well, you know how that goes.

The door clicks open, interrupting you from your trance. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Footsteps pad closer until Taehyung is right next to you. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans back against the metal railing, facing the opposite direction. It's quiet at first. You've noticed long ago that your relationship with him was one that was filled with silence. “Somethings bothering you,” He’s the first to break it. Neither of you take your gaze off the cerulean blue sky. “You could tell?”

“Of course I can, angel," his voice is cool, gentle, and it carries you away with the wind. "You dozed off through the whole lecture today."

Shame tinges your cheeks with the faintest pink, “oh... I’m sorry. I was paying attention, really, I was just—"

"Love," he saighs, "you have nothing to be sorry about. You could skip to sleep in the nurse's office for all I care. I'm just worried about you."

“What a good teacher you are,” you smile, a teasing one, but Taehyung chuckles dryly. “Trust me, if I was a good teacher, I wouldn’t be doing this," he sounds apathetic, but that doesn't stop you from frowning. You finally turn to look at him, his curls of deep brown swaying. “Taehyung... please don’t say that. You’re an amazing teacher, everyone knows it.”

You hoped he knew how genuine you were. God, you hoped to the moon he knew just how good he was. Taehyung may have already been admired for his captivating smile and his nonchalant energy, but everyone respected him for so much more. He was the type of teacher everyone wanted—the cause of counselor’s headaches every autumn for receiving heaps of transfer requests. Even parents and teachers fawned over him, baffled to see the passing rate in math tests accumulate over the years. It hurt that he didn't see that, and it hurt more knowing he didn't think he was respectable because of you.

The man tilts his head to look at you, smiling softly. “You know I’m only joking, doll.”

“Whether you're joking or not, I still... it just worries me when you talk like that,” you pause, "....do you really feel that way?" Do you really regret this?

Taehyung sighs, and the jeweled rings adorning his fingers are cold against your skin as he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Worrying is my job, angel, so tell me what's been on your mind instead."

If Taehyung noticed the hurt in your eyes, he chose to ignore it. He always did this. You got it, really, you did. There were boundaries for these sorts of relationships. One step closer would bring him one step back, which was why you never probed him any time he disregarded your questions. But a selfish part of you still felt it was a bit unfair, a bit painful to feel him slip away, to realize he was never there in the first place.

It was strange, how he made you feel. His thumb grazed your lips, his breath was light on your skin—if you concentrated hard enough, you swear you could hear his heart beat. He was only inches away.

So why did he feel so far?

Taehyung was your your lighthouse, your harbor, your shore. Through the snowy December nights where his fingers traced sensuous lines down your bare stomach, to the Spring showers of March where his cold lips brushed your inner thigh—Taehyung had always been your solace.

You knew tangling in sexual affairs with your teacher in return for sealed envelopes was wrong, but how could something so sinful feel so heavenly? The unspoken acts committed underneath draped curtains and moonlight's veil felt too dear to you to be called impure. By your sixth rendezvous, you started to wish the intimacy you shared with him could go beyond silk sheets and star speckled lust.

“I want you to confide in me too,” you said one night under the reluctant shadows of warmly lit candles. “I want to help you too, Taehyung. Please, let me help you.” You could tell he's been agitated the whole week, but you'd been too afraid to ask, afraid of him pushing you away. You didn't know where your courage came from then, all that you wished to be more than a distraction. “I don’t need you to help me," Taehyung growled, and you let out a muffled whimper when he rolled your clit with his tongue, your thighs trembling as you reached for his soft curls. "B-But I care a-about—ahn!" You arched your back as he inserted a finger inside of you, curling into your sweet spot with frightening accuracy. "Don’t need you any way else other than this, doll. Just be good and silent for me." That morning, you woke up to a bed void of the man you loved; a white envelope being the only remnant of that night.

You sighed as you recalled that memory, brushing your own fingers over his, tracing the metal bristles of his rings. “Its nothing."

“Don’t say that, angel. I know it’s not nothing."

“Really, Taehyung, i’m fine. Just stressed is all.”

“Stressed...as in financially?” Your sudden tenseness affirms his assumption, making him sigh. "You could've just told me earlier, angel. Tell me how much you need." A repulsing mixture of shame and self resentment brews in your chest, hardening like bitter dalgona. Dirty, despite money sparking your secret arrangement from the very beginning, that’s how you felt every time it was ever brought up. “Hey, look at me doll," as if reading your thoughts, Taehyung gently draws your face close to his with two hands cupping your cheeks, noses barely brushing. “Don’t ever feel guilty about this. Just treat it as an early birthday present, yeah?"

You couldn't help but frowning, your hands roaming the access of his collarbone. "You already do so much for me, Taehyung...I just...I-I feel bad." You failed to notice how rigid he became then, how his eyebrows dipped with evident frustration. "Y/n, you know that—"

Click!

Before you even realize it, you and Taehyung are off each other. When the blue, paint-scraped door opens, sleeked shoes and lively banter are welcomed by two students, diminishing with a glance at the both of you. "Ah, Mr. Kim, there you are! I was looking all over for you. What are you doing here?" A girl's eyes shift from you to the chestnut haired man. Taehyung easy recollects himself as he pats your shoulder, wearing a professional grin. "I stumbled into y/n here, was just giving her some advice but we’ve finished. What did you need me for?”

"Oh...well, about finals week..." You almost let out a sigh of relief as they continued their conversation, but your breath is instantly caught in your throat when your gaze flickers to the boy right next to her.

You were too startled by the sudden interruption that you haven’t completely processed his presence. You almost wish you hadn’t though, now that his doe, big brown eyes mirror your own.

Jungkook was unmoving, and you could've guessed he was conflicted—whether to say hi or to stay silent. Even if you were in the same grade, it was rare to see his face among the carbon copied uniforms. Class C—1 and C—4 were the furthest from each other, and with being the student council event coordinator, you were either neck deep in documents or tucked in the seclusions of the rooftop.

But due to the proud morning announcements and the hushed whispers of admiration, Jungkook never really strayed too far from your orbit. Referred to as the school's golden boy, Jungkook was loved by everyone. He was friends with members from the fashion department to the swim team to the gardening club—Hell, even the occult club. Teachers and students alike wore lenses of adoration for their school’s pride and joy while you tried your best to look away. He may have been in your orbit, but you were two different worlds, encapsulated by the universe but separated by light years of meteors and stars. Jungkook was a nameless planet to you, as you were to him. You never brought yourself to think about it—never had the time for anyway, so seeing him there, floating with the drifting clouds, even you felt a tad bit shaken.

“—kook...Jungkook, hey, Jungkook! I’m gonna go get my assignment with Mr. Kim. Come with?” He blinks profusely, averting his attention from you to the girl wearing raised brows. “Uh, no thank you. Breaks gonna end soon anyways, I think I’ll stay up here. See you after school though?”

��After school,” she clicks her tongue, waving before disappearing down the stairs. Taehyung lingers for a second longer, his eyes flickering to you. “Well I’ll see you next period, Jeon. Bye, y/n." With that, the door shuts behind them, welcoming an air of awkward silence.

Jungkook is the first to clear his throat, “hi, its been awhile," his earrings dangled with his every nervous movement, and you wondered when he'd gotten all his piercings. "Y-Yeah, its been awhile..." you repeat densely as you watch him take the spot Taehyung left, respecting a distance but not standing too far away. He rests his forearms on the metal railing, his elbow barely brushing yours. “Do you usually come up here?"

"Only during lunch."

He hums, "that explains why I never see you."

You frown, both in curiosity and confusion. "You look for me?"

“I-I don’t!” He sputters too quickly. “I just...its just an observation. We’re in the same year after all, and you’re never with the rest of the student council members.” Your brows raise in amusement, “that's surprising.”

“What is?”

“I didn’t think you remembered my name—honestly didn’t think you even remembered I existed.”

“Of course I remember,” he chuckles, “we’ve been friends for 17 years. How could I forget?”

“14 years,” you reminded softly, “we’ve been friends for 14 years.”

A star in Jungkook’s eyes must have died out when you smiled sadly at him. “Oh...right...” he rubs the nape of his neck, sighing. “This is strange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you agree, “strange.” And there it is again. Spring’s momentary silence. You watch as the sun slowly disappears behind sailing clouds. Talking to Jungkook, being alone next to him, was maybe even a little bit uncomfortable. After all, you guys had so much history—where do those film rolls of sun seeped memories go? It was as if they floated all around you, tying your fingers together like the red string of fate. After all those years of suppressing them, it was intoxicating, adamant to be remembered.

“This reminds me of middle school,” Jungkook brings your head back from the sky. “In 5th grade, the highest we could go was at the top of the garden shed. We spent all our breaks there, staring at clouds, complaining about Mr. Lim being too grouchy, or wondering where we'd go after school—what ice cream flavor we’d get at the convenience store. Do you remember?”

"Of course I do," despite yourself, your heart softens to the recollection. It was your secret hiding spot, blocked by the slant of the roof and the trees barricading the other side. The sky, wind, and Jungkook had been your only escape from the problem solving in math and the problem solving you had to do on your own when you were 10, wondering what the budget for that week's grocery would be. “We thought we were so cool, that we were on top of the world.”

“Correction, you thought you were so cool. You even promised to show me your own space ship, remember?”

“God, please don’t,” you groan, covering your face with your palms. You knew exactly where this was going, and you guessed Jungkook still knew exactly how to embarrass you. “You told me you were a space—“

“—adventurer!” You beamed a toothy grin, two hands proudly on your hips. Jungkook looked up at you with sparkling eyes, pupils as large as beloved full moons. “You mean...an astronaut?”

Your smile immediately drops into a disappointed frown. You demanded upmost reverence, so you didn’t really appreciate it when he questioned you. “No, no. Not an astronaut. A space adventure. s-p-a-c-e a-d-v-e-n-c-h-u-r-r. Gosh, Kookie. If you want me to bring you along in my journeys, you have to keep up.” Jungkook only nodded, trying his best to stifle a chuckle. He won the 3rd grade spelling bee, so he was at least 85% confident the word adventurer didn't have a 'ch' in it.

He decided to let it go though. He knew—the same way he knew that you’d certainly cry if he corrected you—that you were afraid of heights. If it took weeks to encourage you to finally climb a roof, he was the certain you wouldn’t be able to handle the height of the galaxy. But then again, he always had a soft spot for you. “I’m building a space ship right now actually! Its called the Bon Voyage. When it's finished, I’m going to Pluto. You won’t believe how big space is. There are strawberries there!"

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your silly declaration, and even then, he felt sad. He knew that being a space adventurer—being able to maneuver gravity and time on your own whims—was only an innocent imagination of escapism, but still. Every single time you’d flinch when a hand was brought up near you, every time you’d pull on your jacket despite it being hot, he wished your imagination could be real. Wished he could make it real for you—keep you safe from earth and all your troubles.

“I’d like to see the strawberries.. with you,” Jungkook smiled softly. You grinned, and it was the most precious thing Jungkook saw as you stuck your pinky finger out. “Then it’s settled, I’m taking you with me.”

“To pluto?” He wrapped his small finger with yours, and you sealed it with your thumbs pressed against each other's. “To pluto!”

Jungkook was in a fit of laughter, and despite burying your face further into your hands, you couldn't help but smile. “I can’t believe you knew I was lying. God, I must’ve looked like a total idiot.” His elbows were pressed against yours now, sending a surge of warmth to your heart at the familiar skin ship. Jungkook must have not noticed, for he only kept giggling, and you certainly wouldn't bring it up. “It was cute, really. The strawberries and everything. It was really cute.”

"Whatever, Jungkook," you rolled your eyes, and uncovering your eyes, you looked at him. Truly looked at him this time. His smooth, unwrinkled uniform. His hair that grew over time, kissing past his eyelashes and swaying with the wind. The tiny mole peeking under his bottom lip, the familiar scrunch of his nose as he grinned widely. The speckled brown of his eyes were so warm, almost dreamlike against the golden sun. Under long years of an uncalled contact, of an untouched hand, of a voiceless wonder—‘how have you been?’ ‘what was on your mind today?’—you saw the Jungkook you once knew, your dearest friend. And with his smile, you found your heart aching and full at the same time.

ringggggg!

The alarm jolts the both of you, severing spring’s heartbeat as loud chatter and footsteps disrupt the moment from open windows.

You only stare at each other for a brief second before you give a half smile, “that's the bell, we should go.” Without waiting for an answer, you followed the pace of the rest of school, but before you could take a step down the staircase, Jungkook takes your hand. His grip isn’t tight or rough. Its gentle, reluctant. You turn around, and the sun is behind him, kissing the back of his head with its golden, stray flakes.

"What is it?" You furrowed your brows. “I...its just..." It takes a moment before Jungkook speaks, cheeks tinged with a faint red. "Y/n I, I miss—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt in masked panic, averting your eyes as you pulled your hand back. In truth, you were scared. Finals week would be soon and you didn’t think you could handle any more mental strain than you already had, especially not with him. “I-I think we’re going to be late.” Jungkook eyes widen for a second, stricken with dejection. He mumbles, “right...”

You don’t dare to look at him, turning away, you say, “it was nice talking to you again. Bye, Jungkook.”

ACT 2. | DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR

The second time you see Jungkook again, the spring showers are sharp against your skin. You had just gotten off from your 6 hour shift, and where the sunset hues of timid pink and vibrant yellow were supposed to be, the overcast sky was instead. It's been about 30 minutes since you clocked off, but you knew your dad was home, so you decided to take the long way back.

It didn't matter that you were a blur of blue walking in grey tainted streets. Didn’t matter that the downpour soaked your clothes or that cars occasionally splashed you with murky road puddles. You could be anywhere, and anywhere would be better than where your dad was.

Droplets drooped down your eyelashes, dribbling down onto your phone. It’s screen illuminated your color drained face. You stared at Taehyung’s contact, biting your lip nervously.

YOU :

hey taehyung, can i come over? if that's possible of course|

hey taehyung, can i come over? i|

hey taehy/

.../

i need you|

Your thumb hovered over the tempting, blue send button. Press it, Y/n. Just press it. (But would he mind?) He said it was okay to ask for help. (But... what if he's busy right now?) It's okay to ask. (You'd just be bothering him. If you're too needy, he'll push you away, you know that.) Just press the damned—

“Y/n!” A hand reaches your back, and although it was a mere brush, you yelp in alarm, instantly stumbling back. When you're sure you're about to be submerged into a puddle, a hand firmly grasps your forearm, steadying you as the said person pulls you closer to them. The rain stops—or rather, patters against an umbrella now hovering over you. Your eyes flutter from the hand holding you to the hand holding the umbrella handle, and lastly, the holder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungkook half laughs. When you don’t reply, your mouth only agape, he adds, “are you okay?” It takes you a moment before you nod. You were close, as close two people could be under a small umbrella (or was it because Jungkook has gotten really big?), so you take a step back. But before you could feel even one raindrop on your face again, Jungkook pulls you back into him, “I don’t want you getting sick, y/n.”

“I’m already soaked anyways,” you frown, but he only disregards you. “Where are you heading?”

“Nowhere.”

When his brows threatened to crease, you add, “Got off work a few minutes ago, I was just taking a stroll.” Jungkook opened his mouth, and you were sure he was going to say something in the lines of, “in the rain? have you gone mad?” But to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers intertwine with yours. “My homes not far. Come with me?”

"Your...home?” You repeat dumbly, disregarding how warm his hand was—how you missed it, how right it felt in yours. “Yeah, if thats okay with you. If not, then mind if I walked with you?” You pause, taking in Jungkook’s attire. What he was doing in a button down, black trousers, and sleek shoes, you didn’t know—but his dry state save for the few droplets on his clothes meant that he'd much rather prefer to be under a roof. You weren’t sure if he was going to take no for an answer, and being under shelter did sound pleasant. At least, more pleasant than being in wet socks. “Okay,” you say, “take me home.”

When you arrive, you're relieved to discover Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are on a business trip. You missed the Jeons, truly—they were the only family you’ve ever known, but you didn’t think you were ready to see them again.

You remembered Jungkook’s house being an absolute palace when you were a child—modernized with elegance adorned with a scenic garden and a clean landscape—but it still didn’t fail to leave your jaw agape. Expansive was always an understatement. “Here, get changed,” Jungkook hands a towel, an oversized sweater and sweatpants, and of course, fuzzy socks. You only nodded as he led you through the familiar halls to his room. “Just call for me when you’re done, kay?”

“Mm,” you mumbled, still in a daze even after he left. Bittersweet nostalgia filled your nostrils with the scent of vanilla and almonds, a soy candle he still apparently loves. It's only been three years since you’ve last set foot on his grey, hardwood floors, but you still noticed the subtle changes. Instead of pokemon action figures—burnished, golden trophies filled his glass shelves. They were only a few Jungkook was really proud of, otherwise his room would be brimmed with his accomplishments.

Picture perfect polaroids capturing euphoric memories and cheerful grins scattered Jungkook's walls. A refined stereo set replaced the bright blue boom box of your childhood, the one covered with doraemon stickers and scratches. Memories of 4th grades' January flooded your mind, when the blandness of the month was disrupted with color as the two of you jammed to Ego by JHOPE on repeat. Jungkook may have added and taken a few things out, but you found anchor in what stayed the same. His plants that hung from the ceiling were still there, ivies draped with growth over the past years. Kim Namjoon, Jungkook’s long time idol, smiled from a framed poster on his wall. Everything was still polished with his neatness, a habit you had always commended him for.

As you dried your damp hair, a photo frame catches your eye, sitting on the side of his bookshelf. Your breath catches in your throat. You slowly walk to the dainty item, painted white and blue to resemble noon skies. In the corner of the frame ignited a bright, pale limerence. Sparks of vivid blue and tangerine whipped through the wooden confines. You felt your heart thump against your chest. It was a—

"Daytime shooting star!" You gleamed, holding a paint brush into the sky, the handle rough from years of dried paint. It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after the end of seventh grade. Cicadas sung adamant songs through Jungkook's cracked open window as the two of you sat on his floor, blanketed with a fuzzy iron man carpet.

He looked at you quizzically, "a daytime shooting star?" As far as Jungkook knew, there was no such thing. "Yeah," you chirp. "That's you, Kook. You're my daytime shooting star." Jungkook nearly dropped his paint brush then, risking his favorite carpet as he looked at you, wide eyed with stun. You were wearing his t-shirt as per usual, your face smudged with blue paint and an innocent smile. Jungkook hated you for it.

It was always your choice of words—my Jungkook, my Kook, my Kookie, and now, my daytime shooting star—that he swore would be the death of him every single time. He didn't even know what you meant, but he didn't care, because being called yours was enough to kill him.

"Th-Thats stupid," he mumbled as he looked away, a futile attempt to hide his burning cheeks. "That doesn't even make sense." When the air shifted to silence, Jungkook immediately regretted his words. He quickly turned back around, fearing he accidentally hurt your feelings due to his own fluster. Maybe that was when Jungkook realized you really had grown up since the 6th grade, because this time, tears didn't drip down your cheeks. Instead, your eyes were curious and doe as you tilted your head to your side. "Does it matter?"

"What?

“A lot of things don’t make sense, but does it have to matter?” You frowned.

“I-I don’t—”

“I like you a lot, Kook,” and though you weren't at the least bit shy saying so, Jungkook’s emotions exploded everywhere. “I don’t think you need reasons to like someone, but you’re my daytime shooting star, Kook, and that's my reason. Can't I just like you? Does it...does it have to make sense?”

It felt like light years as Jungkook stared, red as he looked into the golden specks of your eyes, glinting from the blazing sun. “I-I don't know,” he gulped, his voice small. He was going to leave it at that at first. He didn't know what to say—what he could say. His mind was as clumsy and berserk as a deflating balloon to your previous words, but when he saw your sullen eyes and mopey pout, he felt an inadvertent panic in his gut.

His eyes shifted to his boom box. Etched on the side of the speaker was Doraemon, giving him a childish wink and thumbs up. Jungkook groaned in annoyance and you looked up, curious as he scratched the back of his head. "M-maybe we could...see it," he mumbled, barely grumbling, but your heart leapt with every syllable of his words. "Someday, together. The—"

“Daytime shooting star.”

You jumped, instantly whirling around to see Jungkook leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his torso. His eyes were soft, as if his gaze itself caressed you. “Y-You...” your thumb grazed the flimsy wood. “You still have this.”

“Yeah, and I still don’t have a photo,” he chuckled, making his way towards you. “14 years of friendship and you’d think we’d finally have a perfect picture to put in the frame.” It was pretty silly now that you thought about it. Despite spending a whole summer’s day decorating the item with childlike ambivalence, you never allowed Jungkook to slide a photo in it. No, it couldn’t just be any glossy photograph. You fussed over the concept of a perfect portrait, but nothing ever satisfied you enough, and with each passing year, it must've slipped your mind.

“I don’t get it... We haven’t talked for like, three years, and you still have this?”

"Does it have to make sense that I did?” Jungkook tilted his head, his eyelids lowering to look down at you. You open your mouth to reprimand him for using your words against you, but no words come out. Fuck. You swear it was his eyes—you’ve always said they were full of magic when you were children. It must’ve been that damned spellbinding luster that stole your voice. “What did you mean?” Jungkook takes a tentative step forward.

“Huh?” It came out like a breath.

Maybe it was the dim incandescence of the room, complementing the silhouette of his sculpted physique. Maybe it was the fact that the cloth he wore seemed too thin, too tense around his biceps and broad shoulders. Maybe it was because his first three buttons were left unclasped, teasing the faint outline of his chest. Or maybe it was the fact that you were so used to being in eye level with him—hell, looking down at him in the earlier points of your life. But you realized then, as Jungkook stared at you with a glint you couldn’t seem to quite recognize, how small you felt in front of him. Under him.

“When you said I was your daytime shooting star. You never explained it to me, what you meant,” Jungkook takes one final step forward, and the distance between you is insignificant. You don’t move—didn’t even think you could with your back pressed against his bookshelf. You could only return his gaze, doe eyes wavering beneath his. “What I meant to you...what I still mean to you.”

Your breath hitches, “Kook...”

“Fuck, I missed that,” his voice is low, breathless as his fingers brush your cheeks. “So fucking much, Y/n. I missed you calling my name, whatever you say. Kook, Kookie, Jungkook—I don’t care, just missed your voice, I still do. Don’t you know? Everyday, how much I long for you?”

Your eyes widen at his assertion. Wherever this was coming from, you didn't have the heart to stop it. "J-Jung—"

“—I miss you, Y/n. Any time I'm not around you it hurts and every time I am it hurts even worse.” His voice is so gentle, you fear he could hear the rhythm of your heart beat, palpitating with the heavy raindrops against his window.

“Why....why did you push me away?”

The waves were restless that cold, autumn night—you saw it through the fogged window of the train. Exhaustion tugged your eyes and your muscles screamed with every movement. As the train tracks rumbled beneath you, you wondered if you were even alive anymore, at least, it didn’t feel like it. All that was certain to you was the midnight stars outside, following you no matter where you went.

You didn’t know when the train entered the station, sighing to a stop as the doors slid open with a loud gush. It was probably 2am—Maybe 3, and the carts didn’t hold people this time around. At least you didn’t think it did, you honestly didn’t have the energy to even think about it. You only wondered how further you could go without knowing exactly how far you already went. Your neck ached from your head hanging low, and if it was cold, you didn’t feel it. All you felt was numb. An aching, dull pain eating away at your heart.

It was when you heard rushed heaves and loud footsteps that your eyes widened to see a familiar pair of green converse stop in front of you. You lift up your head to see Jungkook, cheeks red either from crying or the cold, maybe both. His brows were deeply furrowed as he crouched down, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“C-Can you hear me, Y/n? Are—are you okay?” You only nodded. He felt like a mirage, a dream.

You didn’t know what he saw in you that caused the droplets of sorrow to drip from his eye—whether it was the bruises covering your body, or the deep eye bags from restless nights at work—but it made you sad, how he looked at you. You wished he’d stopped. You wished you could be so far away that he didn’t have to look at you anymore.

“You’re, fuck, you’re freezing,” Jungkook quickly pulls his coat off and swathes it around you. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here earlier.” You shook your head, your dull headache being replaced with confusion. “Why are you even apologizing, Kook? H-How did you even find me? Why are you even here?” You had turned off your cell the whole day and gave no indication to where you’d be. You didn’t even tell Jungkook how you were feeling, it made no sense to see him there, holding you.

“We’re soulmates remember? Of course I’d know,” Jungkook tries his best to give a smile. “I’m here because you are. Just—look, lets get you out of here first okay?” Before you can tell him you can walk by yourself, he lifts you up, taking your hand as he leads you out. “The next train back to Seoul arrives in 8 minutes,” Even when Jungkook and you sit down on a bench, he doesn’t let go. He’s shaking, you realize, with his fingers intertwined with yours. It was as if he wanted to hold you tighter, but he was afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of hurting you? Or afraid of you hurting him if you slip out of his grasp any further?

“How did you know?” You begin again. “I told you I was sick, I called the school too. A-and how did you even know where I was?”

“You called in sick for three days Y/n,” he frowns, “and you haven’t texted me once. I was so worried, fuck, I was so fucking worried when I went to your house to see that you weren't there. All my calls went straight to voice mail, and I saw...I-I saw the shattered beer bottles, the blood. I-I panicked, even thought of calling the police,” when your face goes rigid, he assures you, “of course I wouldn’t though, I would never do that you. But anyway, it took me awhile to guess, and I wasn’t even sure—just started running. I imagined you’d definitely be in a space ship to Pluto right about now, but I took a risky bet on the train station. You know, being much more accessible to us and all.” When Jungkook finishes light heartedly, you give a dry laugh, “you know me so well, Koo."

His small grin falls shortly as silence does, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on your hand. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, sad, “You always...you always said you’d bring me. We’re a team aren’t we? You and me, I-I thought...I would’ve been there, Y/n. You know I'd be there for you in a heartbeat. Don't you trust me?”

"Of course I trust you, Kook," you quickly assure him through your thin veil of tears. It hurt too much to know you were the reason for the crack in his voice, for the ache in his heart, for his glazed eyes. You couldn't stand his pity, but you couldn't stand being the source of his grief either. "Then why didn't you call me..? All I ever wanted was to be there for you, all I ever want is to be by your side, y/n. Why won't you just let me help you?”

“Because you don’t understand, Kook,” you croak. “You don't understand how hard it is for me—how hard it's always been. It'll only ever always be like this, and I-I can't just...fuck Kook, I can't just depend on you every time I get hurt. My problems are for me to sort out, I have no one but myself.”

“But you have me, y/n," the tears you fought so hard to hold back falls when Jungkook covers both your cheeks with his hands. The boy inhales sharply, trying to calm himself from crying any longer as he presses his forehead against yours. "It hurts me so much when you talk like that, y/n. You have me, you always have me. A-and it scares me because sometimes it just feels like I don't have you, that I never did and—"

"Jung—"

"You’ve been so distant lately," his breath is shaky and hot against your skin. "....It feels like you’re going to leave me. Please, don’t. Don't leave me behind like this, y/n.” You don't say anything else, too overwhelmed with his heartache beating with yours. In that cold autumn night, all you could do was cry in his arms.

The train arrives shortly.

“Lets go home," Jungkook murmurs sweetly against your skin. He kisses your forehead softly, and when he does, it feels like you already are home.

“Come here,” he grins, standing up with his hand out. You take it. “Have you eaten yet? I can make us food when we get back. What would you like?”

“Honestly? Just ramen.” Jungkook groans as you step inside the desolate train cart. “You know I could cook something way better for us."

"Nothing is better than ramen with eggs, Kook," you chide, giggling when Jungkook rolls his eyes. You take your hand away from him, and Jungkook tenses, only to relax when you cup his cheek once more. “But seriously, thank you, Jungkook. For everything. For worrying, being here for me, for finding me." He smiles, his eyes like crescent moons luminescent with love as he looks down at you, "always.”

"You said you'd do anything for me right?”

“Of course, anything, y/n.”

“Then please stop after this," you keep your small smile even as Jungkook's brows furrowed with confusion. You said it so simply, so plainly that he thought he might have heard you wrong. "What do you...?"

“Nothing will change after this. Nothing. I can't escape from my life, I can't escape from debt or my dad no matter how hard I try—and being the cause of your anxiety won't help me. I don't need a savior, and I don't think you need me holding you back either. We're burdening each other Kook.” With a heavy gush, the train doors start sliding shut and before Jungkook can even comprehend your words, you step out. “Don't have worry about me anymore, okay?”

“W-Wait— y/n—!” He’s quick to run, but it's too late. The doors slide shut, finally severing the thin red string of fate that held the two of you.

The rain falls with your tears as you cry into your hands, guilt washing over you like tidal waves. You remember his face the most, how heartbreak and betrayal etched with the dying fade of his smile. How you left him that day, how you left him everyday after that.

“I-I was just so tired, so tired of everything. I... I'm so sorry I pushed you away. I just didn't want you to worry about me anymore. You were always so good, everything about you, and I was scared I was holding you back and...and it hurt too much to stay knowing I was." Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand gently pulled your head to his body. You're too stunned to move, but when you gather yourself, you decide you don't want to. You just cry, burying your face into his chest, your hands tightening around his shirt.

"I never once stopped thinking about you, y/n," he mumbled into your hair. "I never once not worried, never once not looked for you, and you—god, y/n—you never once held me back. Silly girl, don’t you know you were the only one who kept me together?” Jungkook lets out a noise, somewhere in between a sigh and a groan as he lowers his head onto your shoulder, "I did everything, anything to keep myself distracted from you. Competitions, sports, art, studies, friends.” His soft hair tickled your jaw as he nuzzled closer into the crook of your neck. “But I couldn’t, y/n, it was always you, it was never not you. Do you know how torn I was, watching you and not being able to talk to you? To hold you, be afraid of losing you even more than I already had?"

The pitter-pattering of the rain against the rooftop fills the voice you can’t seem to conjure. "Did you ever miss me?” Jungkook pulls away, and your eyes lock with his under the blue world. You realize then, by looking at him, just how scared he was. If you pushed him away again, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Reluctantly, you bring your hand to sweep Jungkook's tousled bangs away, brushing your fingers against the shell of his ear. "I did," you whisper, and more clearly, "I-I did, of course I did.” When Jungkook doesn't respond, your hand trails down his neck ... to his shoulders ... to his chest. "Do you hate me?"

Jungkook inhales sharply, "N-no." He could never.

"Your heart is beating so fast.... are you afraid?"

"I am."

"I am too," you lift his hand and place it against your own chest, laying it atop your own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, you don’t catch the pink of his cheeks when you’re too busy staring at the sad stars in his eyes. "I was too, back then. I know it's selfish, and i-i'm sorry I hurt you, but I hope you understand what kind of position I was in. I was so young, so scared—I just wanted to be alone, felt like it was a way to protect myself from anything else that could hurt me. I’m different now, I think, more stable—whatever that is," you chuckle dryly. "I can’t promise I won’t push you away, but I won’t leave anymore, really, s-so...."

Jungkook's eyes soften, his lids lowering when you say, "Can you trust me?"

"Of course," Jungkook breathes, “always.”

ACT III. | EPIPHANY

"Just go to sleep already, Jeon."

You've been repeating yourself for the past 3 hours, watching him restlessly saunter around his room. "...swear i’m missing something, I just don't know what..." Jungkook, like the countless of other times, dismissed you as he continued to tap his finger on his chin, mumbling to himself in intense focus. It was only when you’ve finally had enough, groaning and hurling a tissue box at him—which he instantly caught with ease—that he finally noticed your glare. "What was that for?"

"I said just go to sleep already!" You exhaled frustratedly, "you packed your whole room at this point, Kook. I swear you have, like, triple of everything you don't even need—so for the thousandth time, could you please just shut the lights?" It's been a few weeks since that one spring evening, and time started ticking again with Jungkook by your side. It took you awhile to adjust to his company, it was odd—but everything was odd at this point. Odd but comforting when Jungkook started visiting the rooftop every lunch, odd but reassuring when he'd pick you up after every shift, and odd but exciting to spend the night with him before the anticipated field trip to Jeju island. The four days were a granted escape before the tumultuous finals of the upcoming winter. Even you were a bit eager to go, having finally taken a justified leave off work.

"Fine, fine, but if I do end up forgetting something important, I blame you," Jungkook huffs, sauntering to the light switch. “Go ahead,” you roll your eyes, and with a small click!, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. “Finally,” You snuggled into his pillows, but when the bed dips down right next to you, you realized you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to shut his mouth as well. "Will you sit next to me on the way there?" You squinted to the darkness, raising your brows at the silhouette of his figure. "Jungkook, you're literally my only friend, do you even need to ask?" He chuckled, "but will you? We don't have to sit with my friends if you don't want to."

You hummed, thinking as Jungkook carefully brushed loose strands of hair away from your face, the warmth of his fingers trailing down the side of your neck. You were reluctant about being seen with Jungkook at first, but the choice wasn't left to you when his friends spotted you and him at the library sometime ago. It honestly wasn't as bad as you expected, and more surprisingly, you even clicked with a few with them. Seokjin was one you gravitated to the most, being a truly funny and charming senior that you felt you could look up to. "No, it's fine. I like your friends." Jungkook’s head perked up, and the darkness captures the bright twinkle in his eyes. "Really, you do?" You smile, knowing how happy that must have made him. "Really, I do. Now can we please go to sleep? I'd like to be at least remotely awake for the first day."

“Okay, okay, grumpy head," a bunny like grin appears on his face as pinches your cheek, chuckling when you only grumble in return.

He strokes your hair down one last time before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good night, y/n.”

"Good night, Kook," the reassuring warmth of his skin leaves yours, and you hear him shuffle in his own mattress on the floor. It's been awhile since you've felt like this, so safe. Though it didn't necessarily matter, being with Jungkook was different with Taehyung, you noticed. When it came to Taehyung, it was as if all your problems could dissipate with his touch. That for a moment, they could just disappear.

When it came to Jungkook, though, your problems were still there. They existed, they were real, and yet, when you with him, it felt like everything would be okay. He was like a breath fresh air, and you felt like you could get through anything—whatever it may be, as long as he was there. With that thought, you slowly, but surely, drifted to sleep.

ringgggg!! ringgg!!! ringggg!!

What happened afterwards came in fragments of fuzzy memories, distorted with exhaustion. It was the phone ringing first, then it was the shuffle of Jungkook rising from his mattress. The ringing, his heavy yawn, the ringing, groggy footsteps, the ringing, the clatter of the drawer—and finally, silence. "Y/n...?" His voice barely reached where your mind was, deep inside the depths of whatever dream dimension you were in. "Y/n," he said again. No reply. "Y/n... Y/n!"

"What?!" You groaned, lazily sitting up with a snarl and a bed head. The ringing starts again and you rub your eyes to where your phone screen illuminated Jungkook's face. "What is it?" You mumble, a little concerned to his expression. "God, is it Mrs. Joomi again? I just paid this month’s rent like a few d—"

"Mr. Kim."

You freeze. The two, single words are akin to iced buckets of water being splashed onto your face, instantly waking you up.

"Taehyung with a heart and moon emoji—but that's Mr. Kim, isn't it? In that photo? That's his first name." Your heart lurches forward. 태형☽<3, displaying a low quality photo of him that you secretly took while he was preparing breakfast. It was once a happy morning, and this was once a happy night—disrupted by its forbidden rays of joy.

When Jungkook finally looks at you through the stark darkness, you can only stare back, your heartbeats filling the silent stun of your dry throat. The bubbly melody stops, and when you don't say anything, Jungkook's voice grows louder, "Y/n what—what the hell is this? Why is Mr. Kim calling you at 3am? Why do you have a photo of him? Why is his contact—"

"J-Jungkook," You nervously moved to sit on the front edge of the bed, attempting to speak as calmly as you can. Jungkook would understand...right? He wouldn't tell, he couldn't. He knows you, your financial situation. It was okay. "Remember when you asked me not to push you away? Well, this is me letting you in. This is me trusting you Jungkook, so please just hear me out." Under the moonlight's glower, you see the bob of his adam's apple rise and fall. "Taehyung, he—"

"Taehyung?" You wince, the acidity of his voice like bitter poison. "I-I mean, Mr. Kim. M-Mr. Kim, he...helps me."

"Helps you?" Jungkook scoffs. "At 3am? How could he—" Suddenly, Jungkook's eyes go wide. "Y/n, you don't mean..."

You nod stiffly, "he gives me money in exchange for....i-its consensual! He helps me," your cheeks heat up, hating yourself for allowing this to happen, having to explain yourself. “A-anyway the point is, you won't tell anyone, right? You understand, don't you, Kook?"

"Understand?! Y/n—he’s a teacher! He's seven fucking years older than us—are you stupid, what were you thinking?!" The sting of his words ring in your ears like a harsh slap across your face. Throughout your years together, Jungkook had barely had the heart to scold you, so you were more than unprepared for his hurtful words. Your shock quickly subdues into anger though, and you stand up, “what I was thinking? What I was thinking?! I don't know Kook, maybe thinking about my fucking electric bill! Thinking about how to pay off debt—how to buy food for fuck's sake! I've looked after myself my whole life, and this is no different."

"Still—This is wrong, y/n! You know that! There are other ways like, like—"

"Like what Jungkook?!" You're in front of him now, pushing at his chest. "Working my ass off in nine to fives? Well I do that, Kook, every fucking day and yeah, a fucking disappointment for me too that it's not enough. You could never know how its like for me, but out of everyone, you're supposed to...! You’re supposed to understand,” you chuckle bitterly, shaking your head as a futile attempt to shake the hot tears away.

"Y/n...” Jungkook’s anger diminishes into a frustrated panic. He tries to reach for you, hold you, anything to keep you from crying because of him—but you turn away, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He sighs harshly, his voice much softer now, “I just—out of all these years, you could've asked me. I was always there, y/n, and you never accepted me. I know we talked about this already, but the fact that...” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do understand, but I was always here. I was your best friend, why did you have to go to him? Am I...am I that unreliable to you?"

Your own heart sinks for him this time, quickly shaking your head. “No, Kook. I-It's not like that. I'm sorry this has to be so complicated, that i've made you feel small. You are reliable, Jungkook. You're my safe place, my person—always have been. I appreciated you so much but you need to understand how terrible it felt for me back then. I hated being pitied by you. You’re my friend, not a fucking philanthropist."

Jungkook takes your hand this time, "I never wanted to help you because I pitied you, y/n. You were always so strong, I don't think you could ever be someone I could pity. I wanted to help because I cared for you, loved you, and it breaks my heart knowing that you went through such lengths when you could've turned to me."

You sigh, threading your hands over the back of his hair. "It was all just circumstantial, Kook. Taehyung found me at a really low point in my life. I didn't search for it, but he was there and i’m thankful for yim, so please Jungkook, please." Your eyes wavered beneath his sad stare, hoping, pleading. Jungkook bites on his lip, cursing, "look...I won't tell on you if that's what you're thinking. I would never do that to you, i'm just worried. He's calling you at nearly 4am, y/n—shit, h-has he hurt you? Did he ever make you do anything you didn't want to?" Jungkook looks frantic for a second, but you quickly shake your head. "N-no! No, god no, he's never hurt me! You know him Kook, Tae would never hurt me." You miss how you even said Tae or how Jungkook's jaw clenched to it.

"I won't say anything, y/n, at least...not yet. You have to end it."

"W-What?"

"He took advantage of you in a low position in your life, y/n."

"N-No Kook, you don't understand!"

"It's not your fault, y/n, it's completely his. He's the adult here, it was wrong. You have to end this."

"But I can't! The money, Kook, you know I can't."

"Then let me help you," he steps closer. Your hands slide to his chest now, shaking your head. "No, Jungkook, my answer has been no and its still no. I refuse to be your charity case," you scoff. "Then you're not going to be. I'll pay you to sleep with me too."

Your eyes instantly shoot open. What..?

"I'll pay you to sleep with me," he repeats calmly. "Anytime you need it, anytime I want it, and I'm certain I'll be able to give you more than whatever Mr. Kim could." Your mouth only hangs open, words dying in your dry throat.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, taking a step closer. This time, you take a step back. "If you were fine with doing it with Mr. Kim, shouldn't it be fine with me?"

"N-No," your voice is barely a shaky whisper. More clearly, "No, Jungkook. I can't just—we just started talking again. You're my only friend, I won't ruin us just for—"

"I won't let anything happen to us, I promise y/n."

"B-but—"

"You don't have to worry about it, okay? Plus, isn't this situation more ideal? You'd get paid more and you wouldn't have to rely on—"

"I love him!"

Its Jungkook's turn to be silent. "What..?"

"I love him Kook," you croak, heat overwhelming your cheeks.

"Y/n..."

"I know it's wrong, I know he seems like an asshole but he's not. I know him, Kook, and i’m mature enough to know myself too. I made my decision back then, and I keep making it today because...I love him." You can’t help but feel your anguish trickle down your eyes, and you cry into your hands. That’s it then. It’s done. You’ve finally admitted it, yet despite the burden of the untold truth lifting—you felt heavier, worse. By now, Jungkook would’ve pulled you into a warm embrace. He’d hush you with soothing murmurs and delicate kisses on your forehead. He’d trail his fingers through your hair, tell you that he knew, that he gets it, that it was okay. But he doesn’t. He couldn’t. You were crying for another man, and all he could feel was ache.

Your phone rings once more, and from the night stand, you see Taehyung’s figure on the dimmed screen. You reluctantly look at Jungkook, but when he doesn’t say anything, his expression unreadable, you take it. "H-hello?"

"Hey, doll," Taehyung's voice is low. "I’m sorry I keep calling, I feel really shit for waking you up at this time. I know the Jeju trip is in a few hours, but I just needed to talk to you."

"No, no, its fine. I was already awake anyways, um...what is it?" You turned away from Jungkook, nervously biting on your lip. Despite everything that had unfolded between the two of you, it was strange. Taehyung never called you at this time after all—and him saying you guys needed to talk only heightened your nerves.

"It's better to talk in person. Where are you? I can pick you up." You shake your head, despite not him being able to see you. "N-No, i’ll come over...is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course, I'll see you soon." With that, the call ends. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on your back—its overwhelming, and you’re scared to face the definite disgust and judgement in his them, so you don’t look at him when lift your bag across your shoulder. "I’m sorry, I...I need to go.”

ACT IV | LOVE IS NOT OVER

Jungkook hasn't seen you since last night. You never showed up at the meeting spot, never answered his calls or texts—never even once read the 68 of them.

He was certain you came, though—he checked in with Mrs. Yoon before boarding, but you were always good at hiding, and Jungkook was always an impatient seeker. The whole process of arriving, checking into the hotel, and splitting into groups was a whole blur that ended in him never finding you. After spending hours exploring the designated routes through antique shops, cute cafes, pretty sceneries, and meadows with his friends, he started to fear that you didn't come after all—that Mrs. Yoon had made a mistake.

Surely, he would've bumped into you at least once through the whole trip. And where the fuck was Mr. Kim? Jeju was supposed to be the pinnacle of his highschool experience. He’d be elated with the giddiness of being out with his friends, kissed with the gift of delicious freedom. But it was 7:46 PM now, and even when he overlooked the vast beach dipped with sunset's entrancing glow, he felt anything but. Not when Seokjin cracked his lame dad jokes, nor when Eunha got him to bike through scenic trails.

Jungkook sighed as the strawberry milk clattered to the bottom of the vending machine. He spotted it tucked away from the corner of the museum his group wandered into. He excused himself, relieved that their chaperone actually trusted him to be by himself. He needed the space.

He poked the straw through the carton, leaning against the cold metal as his eyes gazed over the glistening waves. He hated you. Always leaving him like this, always making him restless and unsure.

It was when he looked for the moon in the dusk sky that he noticed a familiar silhouette amidst the shore. It wavered with the wind, and Jungkook instantly felt his scorn. The man's jeweled hand was holding a cigarette between two fingers, overlooking the ocean with distant eyes.

Fuck the sand, fuck his expensive shoes, fuck everything. Jungkook doesn't know when he starts running, but he doesn't stop.

It all happened so past—the sun would have missed it if not for the perfect view she had just over the excited ripples of the ocean. When Taehyung noticed his presence, it was already too late. Jungkook had grabbed his collar, and without a second of hesitance, punched him across his face. Taehyung fell into the sand with a grunt, cursing loudly. “What the fuck?!” He turned to his perpetrator, his glare quickly diminishing into pure shock to see his own student right in front of him, eyes poisoned with resentment and hatred.

Taehyung's emotions came whirling at him all at once. The confusion, then the anger, the urge to scream at him and punch him until he was left bleeding on the shore—then the mediating side of him, understanding that he'd done more than enough to get his ass fired, why the fuck would he...?—then the realization. He sighs roughly, shaking his head as he stands. He isn't up for long though, as Jungkook takes another swing. Taehyung’s cheeks scream with stinging pain, but Jungkook’s on top of him, and he doesn’t stop.

"You fucking bitch!" Jungkook seethed, barely feeling his fist continuously bury into Taehyung’s face. He knew. He knew how much you loved him, he knew Taehyung helped you. He knew you'd get angry, maybe even hate him for the rest of his life for this—But maybe that's why he couldn't control himself. He didn't care if you thought Taehyung was some angel. To him, Taehyung was just a disgusting predator who took advantage of your situation, and deep down, maybe it was more for a selfish reason. Taehyung was a man who touched you, who had you—who wasn’t him. "You disgusting fuck. Don't ever fucking touch y/n again, you hear me?!" Another hit, but Jungkook is too blinded with anger to realize the scary amount of blood drooling down his nose and lips, from the cuts of his cheeks. "I know," Taehyung rasps.

"If you know then why did you do it?! You’re a fucking creep, you’re disgusting.”

"I know," another hit, and blood stains his shirt. Taehyung curses and grabs Jungkook's fist before he can throw another punch, pushing him into the sand. "You dick, I swear to god, I swear to fucking god I'll fucking kill you." Jungkook thrashes under Taehyung, but the teacher buries both his wrists into the ground, his weight holding the younger boy down.

“Sh-Shit, Look, I know how you must feel about me, and I know I deserve this, but I would much rather avoid being seen like this so I'm going to say this quick and you're going to listen."

"Fuck you," Jungkook growls, glaring at the man on top of him. His eyes were unreadable, almost enigmatic, and Jungkook hated every unwavering speckle of deep brown in it.

"I don't regret it," Taehyung disregards him. "I liked her—y/n—and no matter what you think of me, that stands true. You must like her too, she told me about you some nights. I have to admit, hearing about another boy when she's laying in my own bed wasn't very pleasant for me, but you made her happy. You mean a lot to her," Jungkook shut his eyes tightly, cursing as he tried to get the image of Taehyung holding you in his arms out of his mind. "I know you don't think I care about her, but I do, so just fucking listen for a second okay? I know i'm no good for her, but you aren't either. You're too immature, we both know y/n deserves way more. See where you are now? Right under me when you could be there for her? Have you even seen her today? Have you asked her how she's been?"

"What... what the fuck are you saying."

Taehyung sighs, and stumbles back to stand, wincing as the harsh winds slap his bloodied face. He nimbly looks for his cigarette, and before he lights it, Jungkook grabs his lighter. "I said what the fuck do you mean?!"

"I ended it with her," Taehyung glares at him, his voice firm, cold as he snatches the lighter back. Jungkook feels his heart drop. “You...what?"

There's silence, and when the man turns to look at the sun drowning into the ocean’s abyss, he lights the cigarette, "the fireworks are starting soon." Jungkook's eyes widens. Before he knows it, he's already running.

You’ve always loved the fireworks.

His footsteps that were submerged into sand were now padding against the concrete of the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his ears. A few cars must have honked at him here and there as he ran through the streets, unknowing of his surrounding because all he can think of his getting to his destination—you. He frantically reaches for his phone, panting.

You

JK : where are you?

my love : my room

my love : 613, 7th floor

JK : on my way.

ACT V. | HOLD ME TIGHT

At least the fireworks were pretty.

Your eyelids drooped, puffed with drowsy red as you watched the sparkling scene on the balcony of the hotel. Evening's cold breeze teased your bare legs, dancing with the delicate ends of your black, satin nightgown. You were hugging yourself yourself, leaning against the cold railings as sparks of vivid red shatter into memories tainted with heartbreak. The red silk sheets that you grasped tightly beneath you. The red lingerie that Taehyung slid off your skin. The red wine he poured into the pan when you told him you were hungry. You liked watching him the most, you thought as he stood in front of the stove, his eyes trained on the steak. You liked watching him unbutton his top, talk about his day, how he let out loud laughter whenever a funny story would come up. You loved when he unveiled himself for you, when he'd strip off his enigmatic persona bare and let you peer into his soul.

But that's all you ever did, you guessed, all you ever could do. You watched him when he smiled down at you, his cold fingertips brushing your waist, and you watched him as he left.

It must've been 4 minutes into the firework show when you heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, you leave the balcony as yellow ignites the night sky. You open the door to Jungkook, his chest heaving up and down, his hair tousled by wind, beads of sweat sticking to his neck.

When he doesn't say anything, and neither do you, you step aside to let him in. You wonder if he was still angry about last night, how he'd react when you tell him—but with the way he looked down at you, tender eyes dawned with sadness, you already understand you don’t have to. "I know," Jungkook steps closer, pulling you into a hug. His warmth embraces you as darkness does when the door clicks shut. "What happened, I know."

You sighed, closing your eyes. The fireworks sounded so distant compared to his heartbeat. Jungkook must've ran for you, you thought as your buried your face into his chest. Of course he would, he always has. Maybe that certainty is what intoxicates you to murmur, "I'll accept it."

"What?"

"What you proposed last night, I'll accept it," you say calmly, quietly. You looked up at him with wavering eyes, "please...I need you right now."

Jungkook's heart practically lurched out of his chest. He knew he should take a step back, tell you that you'd end up regretting it and to take it back before it was too late. He knew, but the devil on his shoulder was much more insistent than his angel, and maybe... maybe his angel wanted it too—so fuck it all.

Jungkook took your lips in a magnetic dance, drawing you closer into him with one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head.

God, you were so lovely. How your head lolled for him, soft, plush lips jarred open. Jungkook has always been good at controlling himself when it came to you, but when he heard the slightest whimper escape your trembling lips, he felt he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He didn't seek for permission to suck your lower lip, didn’t even seek permission to slide his tongue inside your lovely little mouth when you gasped. He held your chin, deepening the kiss. More, more, more—he wanted more of you. He wanted to explore your body, wanted to make your breath tremble, wanted to find out what you liked and disliked under bedsheets. Jungkook wanted to know you better than anyone else had. He wanted you, needed you.

“Kook,” You whimper into him as he pushes you against the wall, holding your thigh up. He grinds his bulge against your clothed cunt, sending wild tremors along your nerves. “F-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He takes your other thigh, and you yelp as he lifts you up. Your surprise quickly washes out with haze when he buries his thick tent further into you. You let out a moan, wrapping your legs around his torso. “I can make you feel even better.”

The explosions of the fireworks are blurred with the palpitations of your heart as Jungkook lays you on the bed, his lips immediately finding home in yours. "Love how you sound for me, love," Jungkook’s wet, needy kisses trail down your neck...to your collarbones...to your breast. “So pretty like this, always so pretty,” his fingers ghost your sensitive nipples, perked from evening's cold. He doesn't waste any time to take one nipple into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other.

His cold hand trails down your stomach, finally pressing it down your soaked underwear. He smirks, feeling the soaked outline of your pussy lips. “Already so wet for me baby? How cute."

His plush lips leave your nipple with a pop, instead latching onto the crook of your neck. Your eyes go wide when you realize what he's about to do. “Wait, d-don’t! Not th—ah.” He doesn't allow you to finish your sentence, swiftly sliding your underwear out of the way before pressing a hard thumb over your clit. “Don't deny me, y/n,” His voice is low over your whiny moans. He sucks on the supple of your skin as he slides one, slender finger into you, smoothly drawing it in and out while he rolls your little bud with his other. “Please, need to show everyone that you’re mine,” he murmurs, licking his work, perfectly tinged with a pretty pink . “Besides...” he trails, taking note of your arousal dripping down his wrists. “You love this, don’t you?”

“N-No..! I...ah, K-Kook, Kookie..!” Your voice fails you, moans escaping from your trembling lips. “Jungkook s-stop..!” Jungkook frowns against your skin, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze. “Why not?” His eyes are dark. You try to fight the muddle of your mind as his slow, tentative fingers continue to work on your cunt. “B-Because...because student c-council. It's inappropriate, and your friends will ask, a-and... mm!—“

“Taehyung?” Jungkook says bitterly, but you’re too indulged with the knot in your stomach. You moan loudly, your hands finding anchor wrapped around his biceps. “I'm sure you don’t want Taehyung to see, do you?” Jungkook's pace is furious now, and you barely make out his words through the thick fog of your mind. You feel so close. “Don’t want him to know that you're with me, hm? That i’m finger fucking you into my dumb whore."

His indecent words paint a wild blush on your cheeks. You never knew Jungkook could be like this, could be so mean.

"You know what I think..."

Jungkook lowers himself down between your sweaty thighs, quivering with painful pleasure. "''Think my dumb babygirl wants me to clean her messy little pussy up. Would you like that, love?"

"Y-Yeah," you moan, desperately bucking your hips up, "p-please eat me out, Kook."

"Needy girl," Jungkook lets out a sigh, his pants tightening around his painful hard on. You were so pretty like this, Jungkook swore he could cum just by watching you.

You almost cry when he pulls his fingers away, instead squeezing around your squishy hips. You do cry, though, when he gives your pussy a tantalizing lick, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Knew my baby girl would taste so sweet," he groans. His tongue circles around your throbbing bud, sucking on it.

"Fuck! K-Kook, I-I can't," you wail, tears falling down your cheeks. Jungkook only flutters his eyes open, watching you with heated eyes as his tongue works on your wet cunt.

"Please, g-gonna cum, please!" Your back arches. Jungkook's hands the only thing anchoring you down.

"Then cum, baby, cum for me." Jungkok's voice is tender, coaxing like warm honey. With his encouragement, your dripping cunt spasms, unfurling your cream all over him. "That's my girl," His attentive tongue takes your sweet release, the embarrassing sound of slurping clouding your brain.

"You were so good for me, baby," He cooes, planting one final kiss on your quivering bud. Your cheeks tinge with a shy pink.

He lifts himself up, carefully laying over you so his forehead is pressed against yours. His eyes search yours under the veil of the moonlight. The fireworks must've stopped along the way, your heavy breaths filling the quiet room. "Tired, love?" Jungkook whispers, and you nod timidly, reaching your arms out to hug him.

Your skin is sticky with sweat like melting ice cream on hot summer days, but Jungkook adores his body pressed against yours. His fingers squeeze your smooth waist, placing gentle kisses on your neck, up your jaw, capturing your lips once more in a slow dance. A thin string line of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls back, and he breaks it off with a gentle graze across your wet lips.

"Think you can continue for me, baby?" Jungkook asks soothingly. "It's okay if you can't, of course. Must've been such a long day for you."

You shake your head, your hand lightly tracing the outline of the small scar on his cheek. You still remember the day he fell off his bicycle, somehow managing to tumble down the hill all the way to the train tracks. It must've been the first time you ever saw him cry.

"I want to."

"Are you sure?" His eyebrows perk up. "Because we really don't have to. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to please me. I know you took my offer, but if you aren't ready or comfortable, nothing has to happen. Believe it or not, pleasuring you already makes me feel euphoric." His words have you melt, gentle as a sweet night's lullaby.

"But I want us to feel good together," you say softly. "Please take me, Kookie. I want you." Jungkook's eyes widen, faint pink blooming on his cheeks, and you watch the stars in his eyes grow brighter with your shy gaze. He lets out a small chuckle, "god, you really don't know what you do to me, y/n."

He places a gentle peck on your lips one last time before rising to his knees, discarding his clothes. You're quick to slip off your nightdress and underwear, and you patiently admire Jungkook's toned physique as he worked to unbuckle his belt. Even the moon was enamored with him, tracing its luminous glow from his broad shoulders to his biceps, wrapping around his slim waist.

Your breath hitches when his dick springs out right in front of you, thick and swollen, oozing pre cum. Jungkook watches you with heated eyes, his hand grazing his dick. "Wow," you breathe, sitting up and replacing his hand with yours. Jungkook's hisses when you stroke his cock, doe eyed to his length that throbbed with neglect. "You're so pretty, Kookie. You're pretty everywhere..."

"I should be the one who's telling you that, darling," he lets out a shaky breath through his smile, his hand finding your cheek. "Now, i’d love for that lovely little mouth of yours to suck my cock, but I feel like i'm gonna explode any minute now, and i'd like to do so inside of you," he chuckles when a furious blush takes your cheeks. You let him push you down, positioning himself in between your legs. He takes his pulsating cock in his hands, sliding his glistening head over your cunt. "Would you like that baby? Want me to cum in this cute little pussy? Wanna take Kook's cum like a good girl?" You feel yourself shy from his words, whimpering, "y-yes please, Kookie."

"Tell me how much you want it, baby."

"S-So bad. Kookie p-please, want you to fill me up."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckled, a cocky smirk on his lips that made you tremble. "Think your tiny pussy can even take my cock?"

"Y-Yes, m'pussy wants your cock, p-please Kook!"

"Dirty girl, love it when you beg for me," he pushes the blunt head of his cock into your swelling entrance, already having you see stars by the time he fills you up whole. "You okay?" Jungkook breathes out, his forehead falling against yours. You nodded timidly, "j-just need a little time to adjust."

"Okay, baby, tell me when you're ready." He pecks your nose, letting out a shaky sigh as your walls clench around him. When you do, Jungkook takes your knees, pushing them on either side of you so your legs are spread out wide for him.

He pulls out his whole cock so he could see the flush tip of his cock before plunging back into you. You moan loudly to his even pace, bottoming you out with every thrust.

"F-fuck, been wishing for this forever. Just want to punish this pussy for making me wait for this long."

Harsh skin to skin contact and the squelch of your juices mixing together fills your fuzzy mind. You felt so full, you could practically feel him in your belly. "Shit, you're practically swallowing me. You like this, don't you?"

"Y-yeah, love your cock, Kookie," you moan, his pace growing faster and more unforgiving. "I'm never letting you go after this, fuck y/n. You're mine, you’re so fucking mine. Say it, say you're mine, p-please."

"Yours," you whimper, feeling the familiar tingling ecstasy overwhelm your stomach. "O-Only yours, Kookie."

"That's right, baby, open your mouth." You didn't know exactly why, but you didn't question him. He could tell you to do absolutely anything right now and you'd do it. Your wet lips jar open for him, and Jungkook spits in your mouth, sending a wave of tremor through your body. "Swallow."

You listen, obediently swallowing. "That's my girl."

"Kookie, kookie...m'gonna cum!"

"Again baby? You’re so easy, barely have to do anything and you're spilling." You moan to his words, thrusting in and out of you in a hypnotic pace. "Go on then, baby. Cum for me, make a mess over my balls."

Your whole body tenses, feeling the overwhelming wave wash over you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you release around him the second time. "Good girl, baby, so good for me, fuck," Jungkook hisses to your tightening walls squeezing around him, driving himself into your belly until he pours all his cum deep inside of you.

You practically drooled, his load coming out in spurts of thick cream. When he pulls out, your pussy twitches, his cum oozing out. He falls onto your chest, and your heavy pants fill the room.

After awhile, Jungkook lazily pulls you to lay over him. "Okay, baby?"

"Mm," you murmur into his sweaty chest, trying to recollect your breath. You open your mouth to thank him, but a loud explosion takes your voice. In a second, waves of yellow wash the room, then blue, then purple. Your tiredness subdues into drowsy awe. You sit up and Jungkook does too, positioning you on his lap. "I think this is the second show. Timing is fitting don't you think?"

You giggle, and Jungkook sees daylight in your eyes. "Too fitting. I'm starting to think that this was all part of some big plan."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, laughing as he tucks a hair behind your ear. "Silly girl, of course it is." You look at him quizzically. "We're soulmates aren't we? The universe is just celebrating us."

You smile, sighing as you lean into his chest. "Whatever you say, my soulmate." Jungkook's eyes widen. He felt twelve again, dumbstruck euphoria overwhelming his love for you any time you called him yours. His shock settles into a soft smile, holding you in his arms while you watch the fireworks. It takes him awhile to realize your eyes are closed though.

"Sleepy, love? Thought you loved the fireworks."

"I do," you giggle, pushing him down onto the soft mattress. You snuggle into his chest. "Just listening to your heartbeat."

Jungkook blushes. He was going to urge you to clean up, but with you looking so cozy on top of him, he knew you'd much rather rest. He sighs lovingly, stroking your hair. He hasn't felt this happy in awhile. "About your payment, I’ll wire $800 just for tomorrow, but we’ll officially talk about the—"

“Shhhh!” You grumble, burying your head further into him. “Don’t wanna talk about money right now, just let me be with you.”

Jungkook blinks, and you look up to him with a pout. Purple lights up the seoul's night sky, casting an soft glow on Jungkook’s face. He chuckles, thumb brushing your cheeks.

"Needy girl.”

a/n : wooooo this took the longest time to write. its pretty bulky so whoevers got to this point i love you sosososo and i hope you enjoyed my work ! feedback is welcome and super appreciated, reading comments really do make my day <3 i was thinking of making a sequel/continuation for this but im not so sure ,, we'll see. anyways, i hope you have a lovely day my loves ! stay hydrated and healthy, i hope you eat good food today. make sure to take care of yourself too !

#jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jk #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook scenarios #jungkook friends to lovers #kim taehyung

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stardusttrashed · 4 years ago

Text

Quick Trip

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Katsuki always has your back, even if it means helping you get some sleep

“Hey, gramps,” you managed through your yawns. Your eyes were probably the heaviest they’d probably ever been. As excited as you were to go to training camp, you would kill for just a few extra hours of sleep. The early morning sun felt like some kind of sick joke as you waited with the others to get on the bus.

“The hell you just call me,” Katsuki barked, his lips curling up into a snarl. His eyes darkened with rage. It was bad enough being up this early in the middle of summer, and your new nickname for him wasn’t helping. You always had some stupid nickname for him. It was annoying but cute. “I’ll-.”

You stifled another yawn, utterly unbothered by his shouting. “Keep it down, will ya. Not everyone goes to bed at like 8, gramps.” Katsuki’s growling and Kirishima’s snickers brought a tired smile to your face. “Hey Kiri,” you said as cheerfully as possible.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he smiled warmly. He held his arm out as an invitation, which you gladly accepted. You leaned your head against his shoulder casually, feeling him wrap his arm around your shoulders as he held you close.

“Don’t come complaining to me bout being tired. I told ya to go to bed early,” Katsuki growled, his irritation growing by the second. Did you really have to lean against Kirishima? What the hell made him so special? The half-lidded content expression on your face as you looked up at him was annoyingly adorable. He wanted to stay angry, but you were making it extremely difficult. You always made it hard for him to stay upset. Not that you really even seemed to care when he acted that way anyway. His face had relaxed into his signature frown as he jammed his hands into his pockets. “What time did you go to bed anyway?”

You shrugged, snuggling closer into Kirishima’s arm. “Couldn’t sleep and didn’t wanna wake you, so I did some training. I lost track of time, though.” You ignored the quiet ‘dumbass’ that fell from his lips. Nowadays, it felt more like a term of endearment than an insult. “I just need a little more shut-eye, and I’ll be fine. Oh, speaking of,” you pulled away from Kirishima and looked around for Fumikage. A small rush of adrenaline flowed through you once your eyes landed on him. With a small wave to the two boys, you skipped over to him.

Katsuki couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking down your figure as your skirt swayed with each jump. His eyes watched every jiggle your thighs did with each movement. He’d agree to cuddles just for the chance to have his hands on them. To grope and kneed at them. Not to mention the bounces that your skirt could barely hide. He found himself in a daze at the sight of you. That was until Minoru pulled him out of his trance.

“The girls of class A and class B,” he drooled. “It’s like a buffet of bombshells!”

Katsuki clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white from his grip. He kept trying to tell himself the tiny creep was always like this. It was a slim chance that Minoru was talking only about you specifically, but his pervy comment got under Katsuki’s skin nonetheless. He’d pummel that little turd into the pavement before he’d let Minoru check you out. “Watch your damn mouth, you little runt! I’ll kill you!” He watched as Minoru scurried behind Denki for protection. Smoke rose from his fists, his anger continuing to boil over. “What the hell does she even need to talk to bird brain anyway,” he asked in a somewhat quieter voice, shifting his anger towards you.

Katsuki hated the envious feeling that coursed through him. No, that wasn’t it. He was used to the feeling. It’s what drove him to work as hard as he does. No. He hated that something as simple as you talking to Tokoyami and not him caused the feeling. He hated how jealous he could get when you weren’t the center of his attention. What the hell was he, a child?!

“Alright, everyone, the bus is here,” Tenya announced authoritatively as he waved his arm in the air, guiding everyone to the bus.

“Dude, chill out. Your crush on Y/n is kinda showing. Just man up and tell her already,” Kirishima said with a nonchalant shrug. He crossed his arms behind his head and walked off. “Now, let’s go; we don’t wanna be the last to get on the bus.”

Katsuki jammed his hands in his pockets as he begrudgingly followed Kirishima, getting into the line of people clambering into the bus.

You could feel Katsuki staring intensely, his eyebrow quirk up in curiosity as you sneaked past your assigned seat. You shot a quick thankful smile to Fumikage as you crept further and further past your spot. Only a few people took notice of you, most namely Tenya. Thankfully he kept quiet as you stopped in front of Katsuki. “If you got something to say, make it quick,” you whispered as you climbed over his lap, plopping down in Fumikage’s seat.

He opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it. As confused as he was grateful that you were by his side and not bird brain. It was going to be a whole hour with you by his side. A faint blush painted over his cheeks. Katsuki looked down at his lap in an attempt to hide the blush.

“You gonna say something, gramps, or are you just gonna admire me the whole time?” You poked his cheek teasingly.

“Stop calling me that, idiot,” he snapped, slapping your hand away. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, just enough to keep your hand away.

You quickly ducked down in the chair and glared at him. “Shh before you get me caught, idiot,” you quietly hissed at him, slapping his arm.

He took a calming breath, composing himself before continuing. “Why’d you sneak over here anyways?”

“I can go to my seat instead,” you grumbled disappointedly. You weren’t sure what you were really expecting from him. You moved to get up from the seat but stopped short. Katsuki’s hand quickly wrapped around your wrist, holding you still.

“Tch. I didn’t say you had to move, blockhead.” Katsuki quickly let go of your wrist, worried you’d feel how sweaty his palms were getting. They were practically drenched in sweat. It was kind of gross if he was being honest. Almost as gross as the hammering in his chest. Only you had that effect on him.

“Then shut it,” you yawned. You hesitantly slid your hand into his. A quiet giggle fell from your lips as you felt him tense under your touch. His pink tinted cheeks told you everything you knew he wouldn’t say. “Wake me when the bus stops, will ya?”

“Yeah yeah. Just don’t go snoring in my ear or drooling.” His tough-guy appearance was slowly dissipating.

“Who said anything about me being close enough to you for you to hear me snoring?” You smiled cheekily and leaned closer to him. His grip around your hand tightened momentarily.

“Tch, do whatever you want. Go ahead and get a crick in your neck from leaning against the window. See if I care.” He met your tired gaze with a cocky smirk, “as long as I get to beat ya at your best, I don’t give a shit.”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your shoulder. “Almost sounds like you care about me, Ka-chan,” you purred with a sly smirk. You leaned into him and rested your head on top of his shoulder.

His body tensed as you laid your head on his shoulder. He wanted to wrap his arm around your shoulders to help you get comfortable, but he couldn’t get himself to move an inch. It wasn’t the first time he held you close, but it didn’t stop him from getting lost in the feeling. He tried to ignore the constant wiggling you kept doing beside him. Every tug of his hand. Each tickle from your curls. All the brushes of your breast against his arm. He tried to ignore all of it, but everything about you gave his heart a jumpstart like being on a rollercoaster. “Stay still, will ya?!”

You sighed tiredly, feeling the bus finally begin to move. “S-sorry, I just can’t get comfy.” You couldn’t decide if that was really the problem, or if it was hard to sleep because of all the butterflies in your stomach. You failed to hold back another yawn. “It’s whatever. I’ll be fine,” you sat up with a defeated huff.

Katsuki almost felt bad with how tired you looked. He had only seen you this tired on the rare nights you’d stay with him to study or watch a movie. His adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he thought of a solution. “Tch. Switch seats with me.” He avoided meeting your confused expression to hide his flushed cheeks. “Make a big out of this, and I’ll make you stay up the whole way.”

You nervously did as he told, watching him lean his back against the window. He held his arms out to you with a quiet grunt. Your cheeks felt like they were set ablaze. You nervously glanced around, checking to see if anyone was looking. Everyone was in their own worlds, either sleeping or too busy talking to take notice of either of you. You hesitantly leaned into his warm embrace, your heart thundering in your ears. A content sigh escaped your lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Thanks, Katsu,” you purred as you snuggled your face into his neck.

Katsuki watched you with a gentle smile on his face. “Told you not to make a big deal.” Everyone else faded away until it was only you and him. You were like a blanket, engulfing him in comfortable warmth. He held onto your waist with one arm, keeping you in place, while his other hand played with your stray curls. The stupidly cute smile on your face sent his heart into overdrive.

“You’re such a dumbass.” As much as he hated it, he wanted the bus to take as long as possible to get there. Having you sleeping beside him just felt right.

“And you’re my big softie,” you whispered, your breath fanning over his neck.

“Tch. You better not tell anyone.” There was no point in denying it anymore. He’d be your big softie forever if that’s what it took to put a smile on your face. “Now go to sleep before you run out of time.”

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo imagine #mha katsuki #katsuki bakugo x y/n #black reader #mha x black reader #katsuki bakugo x black reader #mha #mha fluff #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction

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pessimisticlatte · 5 years ago

Text

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 21

Adrienette/Adrinette ~ Lukagami ~ Ladynoir ~ DJWifi/Alynino ~ Chlobrina ~ Gabriel x a Sack of Shit ~ Nathalie x Happiness (because she deserves it)

Remember how I said this was going to be a monster chapter? Well, it is. It clocks in at 13 pages (out of the 160 for the whole fic) and 6,505 words (out of 77,371).

Author’s note at the bottom

Marinette watched Gabriel leave, slipping into a hidden corridor toward the back left of the ballroom and disappearing. Trying not to watch her illusory self walk gracefully through the ballroom on Chat’s arm, Alya as Rena following behind with her flute slung over her back and figures looking like Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace and Ryuko not too far behind her. Mari knew that the Alya walking within their friends superhero forms was real and that she’d chosen to remain within the group of illusions so as to maintain the guise of them being real and to make sure the illusion didn’t drop. Trixx’s illusion magic tended to work best if Alya was as close to it as possible, so that’s the route the dark red haired girl had decided to follow for this particular mission.

Following into the corridor behind Gabriel, Mari paused for a moment until she felt a warm hand wrap loosely around her trembling fingers. Turning to face Adrien and Nino, Marinette pressed her finger to her lips and led the two boys down the corridor until they reached a bend.

“Nino, you should call out Wayzz and transform, depending on how this goes, we’re really going to need you,” Lightly gripping the sleeve of Nino’s suit jacket, Mari pushed herself up onto her toes as far as her wedged heels would allow and whispered into Nino’s ear. “Adrien and I should be able to distract him for a bit, Gabriel hasn’t met me as Adrien’s girlfriend yet,” A slight blush began to creep up Adrien’s cheeks at Mari’s words. “And it should throw him off while you sneak in and swap his miraculous box with this,” Dipping her hand into the pocket of her dress (she’d added the pockets herself, not just for this particular purpose but because Marinette was a firm believer in all women’s clothing having the deepest pockets possible), Mari pulled out an eerily similar box to the ones she, Adrien, and their friends stowed their miraculouses in when needed, though this one had engravings of moths and butterflies on it, showing it as the box for Nooroo’s dormant miraculous. “It’s got a fake butterfly brooch in it so he won’t notice the difference until the last moment, and that shouldn’t be until Luka is far enough away with the miraculous case.”

“How do I make sure not to mix them up?” Scratching his chin as he took the box from Marinette’s open palm and slipping it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, Nino’s lips curled slightly in worry.

Taking the box out of Nino’s pocket, Marinette turned it slightly and showed him the hinge of the box. “Here,” She pointed at the ever so slightly visible golden hinge. “The proper boxes are made so the hinge is completely invisible and can’t be seen until the box is open, you can see the hinge on this one though. It’s not exactly what I wanted but I didn’t fix it purely because I knew you’d ask that question,” Handing the box back to Nino, the red capped boy slid it back into his pocket and patted the outside with a grin.

“I used to think that you overthought things way too much, Mari, but, damn, I’m so grateful for it now,” Pulling Mari to him slightly, Adrien’s hand still wrapped around hers, Nino pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You two go on ahead, I’ll transform and be right behind you.”

“Do you remember the words to make yourself invisible?” Placing a firm hand on his best friend’s shoulder, Adrien looked Nino in the eye sternly, trying to make sure that Nino wasn’t going to burst into wherever they were going completely visible and ruin this whole, precariously put together plan.

“Yep, now you two need to go or we’re going to run out of time,” Shrugging Adrien’s hand off his shoulder, Nino waved away Adrien’s comment and pushed the couple slightly toward the direction Gabriel had disappeared down. “Go, run like hell.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Remaining on the balcony, Nathalie watched the posse of superheroes fan out into the crowd of people, Rena Rouge sticking to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s sides as Viperion and Ryuko made their way to the back of the room and Queen Bee amassed a crowd of adoring fans, she was quite the social butterfly. Nathalie had lost track of the green one, Carapace or whatever his name was, in the throng of people below, the young man not wearing his usual vibrant green and his head not covered by the hood of his costume, making him blend into the crowd easily. Chewing on her lip, she searched for Adrien’s golden head, not sure whether she should be hoping that he was as close as possible to the superheroes or extremely far away from them; her search came up fruitless. Confused, Nathalie searched the crowd again with a more scrutinising gaze, leaning over the balcony again slightly.

The shining haloed head of her son was nowhere to be found, causing Nathalie’s heart to thunder and beat with intense, worried irregularity. Where was he? He was here when Ladybug and Chat Noir and the rest of them arrived, where could he be now? Her head had begun to swim with a million shades of worry, the marble bannister beneath her hand beginning to sway slightly like undulating water as the grey and silver threading through it began to curl and coil and slither over each other like snakes. Nathalie suddenly felt weightless, like she was falling, as she tipped over the bannister and plummeted to the level below, unaware of the fact that she was falling at all. She couldn’t hear the distant cries as she fell, her ears deaf and her mind completely blank save for the aching, echoing worry for her boy, her son.

~~~~~~~

Squeezing Marinette’s hand lightly, Adrien knocked on the large oaken door he’d watched his father disappear behind a moment ago. The rapping from the young man’s knuckles reverberated through the empty corridor he and Marinette were standing in as well as the study beyond the doors. There was the faint sound of muttered swearing before the clicking of shoes against polished flooring approached the doors, swinging open to reveal a very pissed off and mildly disheveled Gabriel Agreste.

The usually perfect coiff Adrien had never seen his father without was rumpled, as though someone had been running their fingers through it, and the top two buttons of his stark white button down were undone, revealing the equally as stark undershirt beneath.

“Adrien,” Gabriel addressed his son curtly as he stepped aside slightly and allowed the two into the room, Marinette noticing Adrien’s verging on being than his father as they passed him. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet,” Holding his hand out to Marinette, Gabriel assessed with extreme scrutiny her behind his wife framed glasses. Reaching out to shake the elder Agreste man’s hand, Gabriel grabbed her hand in a way she’d only ever experienced when it was Adrien dressed as Chat Noir doing it. Pressing a light kiss to Marinette’s knuckles with the slightest bow, Gabriel’s face remained emotionless despite his state. Mari guessed that he’d disappeared back here with someone else to throw off the scent of his being Hawkmoth should anyone, such as Adrien and herself, decide to follow him. “I am Gabriel Agreste.”

“I..I know,” Trying not to stumble over her words, Marinette felt her cheeks heat in the presence of not just her boyfriend’s father but the designer she’d aspired to be like for most of her life and the most dangerous, notorious supervillain in France. “I’m Marinette...Marinette Dupain-Cheng. B-but, my friends c-call me M-Mari, Mr Agreste. It’s a p-p...pleasure to meet you.”

“Chin up, child,” Almost disdainfully, Gabriel released Marinette’s hand and stood completely straight, his body unnaturally still, as his lips curled slightly at the young woman’s posture and the inelegant bow of her head. “Standing like that adds twenty years to your appearance and is unflattering and ugly.”

Wide eyed, Mari glanced at Adrien with quivering lips as she straightened her own back and tipped her chin up slightly. Hands held loosely behind his back, Gabriel walked further into the room, motioning for the two to follow him with a curt, impersonal nod.

“Sit,” Sliding into the large leather chair behind the biggest, shiniest desk Mari had ever seen in her entire life, Gabriel Agreste ran a hand through his hair and smoothed down a few stray pieces of his perfectly glossy platinum blonde hair. “How did you meet my son?”

Marinette and Adrien had been careful about not closing the door behind them, leaving it slightly ajar so that the invisible Nino could pass through as soon as needed. Having watched his best friends disappear into the study, a slight glance over a shoulder from Adrien before they entered telling Nino that things were currently going exactly as planned, on this end at least anyway. Sucking his stomach in as much as he could, Nino slipped through the open door with painfully held breath. Bumping the door slightly, he squeezed his eyes closed as tightly as possible and fought against his own racing heart to stay as calm as he could. The door made no sound from Nino’s small collision, not even whispering as it brushed over the polished floor and away from him. Releasing his breath slowly, shakily, and impossibly quietly, Nino entered the room fully and pressed his back against the flat expanse of wall adjacent to it, seeing his two best friends across the room from him as Marinette was interrogated by Gabriel Agreste. Nino had been in her position once, Gabriel had called him to the mansion in Paris and grilled him within an inch of his life on every single aspect of Nino’s life, personality, interests and whatever other trivial things the Agreste patriarch had felt the compulsion to know. He felt sorry for Mari but was so thankful that it wasn’t him.

Inching further into the room, avoiding anything that could give him away as he slowly moved away from the door and past the half wall that had initially separated his entry from the conversation being had at the desk beyond, Nino slotted himself into a spot between a large metallic filing cabinet and a wall with a curtain covered window, waiting. Gabriel’s interrogation of Marinette continued, Nino beginning to feel as though this really wasn’t his place to be as the questions became more and more personal and Mari’s answers became more and more shaky, embarrassed. Ears suddenly pricking up at footfalls approaching the study, Nino’s breath caught in his throat again as Adrien’s bodyguard threw the door of the study open fully, rounding the half wall and commanding the trio’s attention with silent intensity.

“Yes, Mr Gorille?” Gabriel’s voice was bored, a tone Nino was more than used to seeing as Adrien’s father tended to have three emotions: bored, angry, and disdainful. Quickly and almost unsuccessfully stifling a laugh at the bodyguard’s surname, the invisible boy’s heart began to thunder again, so loud in his own ears that he was worried everyone else in the room would hear it and he would be done for. “What do you want?”

“Sir, Ms Sancouer fell over one of the balconies,” The Gorilla’s voice was gruff, almost as emotionless as Gabriel’s but there was the unmistakable tenor of worry in his tone as he spoke of Adrien’s new adoptive mother and his good friend. Gabriel immediately shot to his feet.

“Is she alright?” Gabriel didn’t sound or look particularly worried, though something about his posture hinted at him actively trying to experience a human emotion (and failing, much to Nino’s delight).

“One of the superheroes you invited, Queen Bee, caught her just as she tipped over. Ms Sancouer is alright though she did knock her head against the bannister as she fell and is bleeding quite immensely from the temple where her skin has split. One of the waiters is administering first aid as we speak but Ms Sancouer is asking for Master Adrien,” Nodding his head toward Adrien as he finished, Nino saw the change in the bodyguard’s posture a moment after he noticed the abject fear swimming in his best friend’s wide eyes. Nino had almost forgotten that Nathalie had signed the adoption papers for Adrien and that the other young man was still adjusting to having a parent who actually gave a shit about him, of course Adrien would be terrified.

“We will all go. Come,” Rounding the desk, Gabriel pulled Adrien and Marinette with him, like they were planets caught in his orbit. The four of them left the room, leaving Nino pressed against the wall between the filing cabinet and the window.

~~~~~~~~

Dressed as Queen Bee, Chloe cradled Nathalie in her arms gently before laying the woman down on an overstuffed lounge in a parlour not too far from the ballroom. A steady stream of crimson blood trickled from the woman’s temple and onto the pale golden skin of Chloe’s arm as she carefully positioned Nathalie’s head, making sure she was laid comfortably on the couch. Not wanting Alya to tire too quickly as she maintained the illusions, Chloe Bourgeois had slipped away to ‘powder her nose’ and returned dressed as Queen Bee, Pollen having morphed her usual suit into an equally beautiful dress as the one Mari had made for her. She’d just emerged from her hidey hole after transforming when she’d seen Nathalie suddenly sway then topple over the bannister of the balcony across the wide ballroom from her, using her miraculous enhanced speed, Chloe had flown across the room and caught the falling woman before she’d even come close to the shining floor.

The crowd of people had begun to advance on Chloe as she held Nathalie in her arms, checking that she was still breathing and that there was no damage to her beyond the bleeding wound at her temple. For once in her life, Chloe hadn’t enjoyed the crowd’s attention, wanting desperately to get Nathalie somewhere safe so she could clean up the blood painting the side of the older woman’s face and bring someone to her who had the training and knowledge to be able to do something to help her. Adrien’s bodyguard, the Gorilla, had swept the crowd away so that Chloe could take Nathalie somewhere less crowded, the large man exhibiting a level of emotion Chloe hadn’t been sure he was capable of.

Luka had appeared soon after Chloe had set Nathalie down, the Gorilla having disappeared to find Adrien and Gabriel once the former’s name had been heard faintly leaving her lips, with Kagami in tow, a waiter not far behind the Japanese girl. Assuring her friends that the waiter knew first aid, Chloe moved aside and allowed the dark skinned woman to tend to Nathalie, mopping the blood away from her face and checking what vitals she could without complex instruments.

Standing silently, arms crossed over her chest as her heart hammered, Chloe tried not to pace as Kagami (still dressed in creaseless culottes and a handmade kimono jacket she’d said Marinette had made for her at the beginning of the year) stood at Luka’s side, one hand entwined with hers while the other tapped out a melody on the thigh of his tux. He’d swapped out into Viperion before Chloe had changed into Queen Bee, Kagami remaining in civilian attire as Alya had suggested. Footsteps approached them from outside the parlour, Kagami releasing Luka’s hand and gliding away from him fluidly as the waiter’s head snapped to face the door, glancing past the two as her dark eyes glazed over Luka appreciatively. Immediately crossing the room to Nathalie’s side, Adrien’s skin had bleached to a pale sheet white as he knelt down beside her and took her limp hand in his own clammy, worry-mottled ones. Marinette hung by the door, Gabriel Agreste floating just outside the threshold as the Gorilla stood guard. Hesitantly, Chloe moved over to Marinette and stood beside her awkwardly as the two girls watched Adrien sweep a lock of dark hair streaked with Nathalie’s signature red stripe away from her pale face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Unsure of how to greet Mari, Chloe’s words came out too formal and too stilted.

“Hello Queen Bee, you look lovely this evening,” Mari was definitely a better actress than Chloe, not that the blonde girl would ever admit it to her. Keeping her identity as Ladybug from so many people in her life, including Alya, had definitely made her so good at pretending that, if Chloe hadn’t known Marinette better, she might’ve thought they were actually strangers meeting for the very first time and not friends trying desperately not to give up the dangerous charade that they were playing. “I heard that you caught Ms Sancouer as she fell. That was very brave of you and I can’t thank you enough for saving her.”

“It’s alright, helping people is what I do,” Chloe’s smile was sincere but awkward, she wished that Sabrina was here to hold her hand because it’s not every day that you watch your best friend’s mother go toppling off a balcony and you’re the one who catches her, stopping her from smacking into the ground from a height that very likely would’ve killed her. “I’m lucky that I caught her in time though, if I had been a moment later she might’ve hit the ground and would be in much worse condition.”

“Regardless, I’m really thankful that you were there. Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Marinette knew that Gabriel, the Gorilla, and the waiter would all be asking the same question if they could so she asked it for them. Of course, she knew where they were; Chat Noir was kneeling beside his mother with shaking hands and tear stung eyes, and Ladybug was standing back, giving her partner a moment to breathe as he grieved.

“They’re doing crowd control with Rena Rouge, we thought it best if the two of them stayed with the public and calmed them down instead of having Viperion and I do it. The public love Ladybug and Chat Noir, they’re more likely to trust them than they are to trust us,” The lie was smooth, seamless, almost as if Chloe had been practicing it over and over in her head for the moment that exact question was asked (she had been). Glancing around the room discreetly, Marinette made sure that those who’d needed to hear the lie had and that they’d believed it, convinced that Chloe’s words had met their mark, Mari moved toward Adrien and placed a careful hand on his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette, Adrien, Gabriel and the Gorilla had gone, leaving Nino alone in the study with the fake miraculous box Mari had made clutched carefully in his hand. He generally wasn’t the type to say that an accident was a stroke of luck but this time, it really had been. They’d thought through how to get Nino in and how to delay Gabriel’s realisation that the real butterfly miraculous had been spirited away from him but there hadn’t been much thought put into how Nino would go about switching the boxes and then getting the fuck out of the study. The Gorilla had closed the door behind the group when they’d left, Nino’s keen ears hadn’t missed the click of the lock as he did so but that wasn’t an issue for now, the issue for now was getting ahold of the real butterfly miraculous.

Still invisible, Nino crossed the room carefully and rounded the desk, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the column of drawers on the left side of the desk. The lowermost drawer had a keyhole toward the top of it, when Nino tugged on it he found that it was locked (not that he expected it to be unlocked, this was Gabriel Agreste he was attempting to rob and the man was nothing if not thorough). Checking the other side of the desk, Nino found two more locked drawers. Resting back onto his feet, still crouching, he chewed his lip and moved his gaze between the two sides of the desk and the three locked drawers, he’d never actually wanted to try and think like a supervillain but right now he was going to have to because he had a feeling deep in his gut that told him that Gabriel Agreste was definitely not keeping the butterfly miraculous in one of these drawers. Remembering what Tikki and Plagg had said a few weeks ago about how Kwamis could find each other, Nino paused for a moment before relinquishing invisibility and freeing Wayzz from his activated state. The exhausted Kwami hovered in the air in front of Nino as the boy peered over the desk toward the half wall separating him from the door and strained his ears for any sound of someone approaching.

“Nino, what’s wrong?” Confused, Wayzz looked up over the lip of the desk too, a large yawn leaving his mouth.

Pulling a small packet of jelly beans from his pants pocket, Nino handed one to Wayzz before ducking back down under the desk. “Hey, so you know how Kwamis can find each other?”

“Yes, but it’s not an exact science, Nino,” Chewing slowly on the jelly bean, Wayzz’s smooth brow furrowed slightly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Do you think you can track Nooroo? I think the butterfly miraculous is in here somewhere but I wanna be sure before I start ripping things apart,”

“We’re in Gabriel Agreste’s office, yes?” Nino nodded, heart racing. They didn’t have ages and Nino was too far away from Luka to be able to ask for a second chance at this (second chance would only give him 10 minutes at max anyway and there was always the worry that jumping back to try again wouldn’t necessarily change the outcome for the better) so right now was likely the only chance he and Wayzz had to grab the miraculous and skedaddle the fuck out of this study and back to the party. “Give me a moment.”

“We don’t have long, turtle dude, cause if we get caught, we’re done for, so please don’t take too long,” Finishing the jelly bean, Wayzz nodded before closing his eyes and floating completely still in the air in front of Nino’s face. Moving with his eyes closed, Wayzz floated up under the desk, weaving past Gabriel’s desk chair as he did so. Opening his eyes, Wayzz pointed up to the underside of the desk with a fin.

“There’s a compartment there, he’s in there. I can feel it,”

“Turtle dude, you are the best,” Crawling under the desk with a grin, Nino slid his fingertips along the underside until he felt a long groove in the varnished wood. Pushing up gently, the board dislodged and, with a slightly angled turn, came away from the underside of the desk into Nino’s gentle hands. Wayzz floated up into the compartment the board had been hiding and disappeared into the darkness within before floating back with a box much too large for him to be moving clutched unsteadily between his small, green fins. “Honestly, man, I don’t know how to thank you enough for this. You are a lifesaver, literally.”

“You should transform back, Nino, you have the box but, as you said, there isn’t much time and I would rather us not get caught,” Slipping the box Wayzz had been holding into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, resting above his heart, Nino pushed the fake box into the cavity beneath the desk and returned the board hiding it to its original position, making sure that the smooth wood that matched the rest of the desk was facing down so as not to give away what had transpired.

Taking Wayzz’s advice, Nino transformed back into Carapace, his costume identical to the illusory one Alya was maintaining in the ballroom, before slipping back into invisibility with the whispered words: ‘Protective shell-ter’. Double checking the security of the miraculous box, Nino carefully got up and crossed the room to the door, twisting the handle gently hoping that it locked from the inside and not the outside. To his dismay, he found the door locked and refusing to budge, his knowledge of lock picking completely non-existent and thus no help to him in this moment. He couldn’t hear anyone approaching but that didn’t stop the anxious, echoing beat of his heart as he looked around the room for something, anything, that would get him out before Gabriel came back. When Gabriel came back, it was game over. He’d go for the miraculous and find that it was fake, Luka wouldn’t have had enough time to get away before Gabriel unleashed havoc in ways Nino couldn’t even fathom and this would end with Adrien and Marinette’s miraculouses in Gabriel’s possession as well as the rest of the groups. This was a risky game to be playing but it was the only one they had.

Eyes snagging on the heavy damask curtains, Nino moved toward the window and pushed them aside. Looking out into the garden and down, there was a row of rose bushes below (just his luck, eh?) and the window sill was higher than he would’ve liked, though all he had to do was step down from it, he was on the first floor after all. The window had a latch on the inside, which Nino flipped free so he could push the windows open; cold air rushed right at his heated face as he did so and calmed his fried nerves slightly. Pushing himself up over the window sill, Nino dropped down into the garden bed below, narrowly missing the thorns on the bushes as he maneuvered himself as close to the building as he could. Seconds before he began to sneak away, Nino remembered that the window had been closed and locked with the curtains drawn over it before he’d used it as an escape route; mentally bashing himself, he stood up and tried to close the window as best as he could from the outside, the endeavour going about as well as could be expected for a window that opened inward and closed with a latch. He didn’t want to leave it open, anything that could alert Gabriel of foul play had to be eradicated completely. Gaze darting around the room as the too fast beating of his anxious heart returned, Nino again searched for something that could help him, though this search was fruitless.

From where he was standing, Nino could see the door that he’d entered through as well as Gabriel’s desk, in fact, he could see the entire sprawl of the room from this one vantage point. There was a door behind the desk, slightly to the right, that was ajar and there was a light on behind it. Confused as to how he hadn’t seen it before, Nino climbed back into the study and carefully pushed the door open further. Sitting on a plush, velvet lined chair within was a woman in a rather severe state of undress, playing on her phone with a disgruntled look on her face. Mouth curving into an ‘o’, Nino remembered how Gabriel hadn’t seemed as put together as he usually did when he’d entered the room; realisation dawned on him as he looked at this stunning woman with mocha coloured skin and waist length midnight hair chilling in a room attached to Gabriel’s study in her underwear. Gabriel had come in here to fuck before he went all ‘hawky’. Nino’s lips curled into a smile which he hid, despite his invisibility, by pressing his lips together and rolling them into his mouth; reaching to pull his phone out of his pocket, he paused, he knew that he was going to take the photo so he could show Alya but he knew his girlfriend well enough that no matter how he tried to phrase it, she would definitely not take him having a photo of a half naked woman on his phone very well (especially since he’d taken it while invisible). Sliding his phone back into his pocket and looking back at the window, Nino had an idea.

Pushing the door into the room the woman was in open further before he dashed to the window and climbed out unceremoniously, Nino waited below to see if she’d take the bait. Surely, after a moment he heard the woman release a displeased groan before he heard her light footsteps moving toward the window.

“He brings me in here and gets me half undressed then his kid turns up so he fucking abandons me and he had the audacity to leave the window open before he left? Fuck you, Gabriel Agreste,” She slammed the window closed and latched it, Nino below stifling a laugh with all his might as she closed the curtains with an angry flourish and stormed back to the room she’d been sitting in. Once she was gone, he released his held breath with a refreshing whoosh, stood up and sprinted as quickly as he could, Wayzz didn’t enhance his speed as much as Plagg, Pollen, Trixx and even Tikki enhanced the others, toward the guest house. Ducking around the back of the house, chest heaving from exertion, Nino dropped the invisibility and pulled the miraculous box out, checking it over to make sure that it was the right one. Quickly assessing the vicinity around him, he twisted the handle of the back door and slipped into the guest house kitchen.

Opening the miraculous box, Nino caught a glimpse of the butterfly brooch for a split second before there was a flash of dull purple light and Nooroo appeared.

“H-who are you?” The Kwami spoke in a small, scared voice, pressing his fins together as he looked at Nino with an expression akin to that of someone just about to cry.

“I’m Carapace, I’m a friend,” Lowering his voice and trying to sound as reassuring as possible, Nino chewed the inside of his cheek. “Mayura sent me to come find you so we could return you to your miraculous box and keep you safe from Hawkmoth.” Silently, Nino crossed his fingers in the hopes that Nooroo would understand what he was saying.

“M..Ms Nathalie sent you to get me?” Still speaking very quietly, Nooroo floated slightly closer to Nino’s face with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. “Y-you’re going to take me somewhere else? P-please t-tell me t-that you’re go-going to take me s-s-s-somewhere el,” Nooroo hiccuped. “Else.”

“Yeah, I am, but I need you to get back in your box so I can put your box with the others. Then one of my friends, who is also here to help you, is going to come and get the miraculous case and take it somewhere far away from here to keep it safe until we can come get it,”

“W-will you come and get me?” It had been so long since Nooroo had felt cared for. Gabriel had treated him like an object and even the rare moments he got to share with Duusuu didn’t fill the void Gabriel had created within him.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I do know that my friend Marinette, she’s one of my best friends and the best person you’ll ever meet, will definitely be coming to get you. She’s got Tikki with her, so you know you can trust her because Tikki wouldn’t trust just anyone,” Nino didn’t actually know if what he was saying was true but if it would get Nooroo back in his box so they could get him away from here then he didn’t care if it was a lie.

“I-if Tikki chose her then she has to be special,” Nooroo nodded, the gesture making Nino’s shoulders feel lighter for some reason. “I’ll see y-you a-another time. Thank you for saving me.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” Nino grinned as he held the box open, Nooroo floating back into it before it closed with a gentle snap. Alya had told Nino that he could tell which room was hers and Marinette’s by what was hanging on the doorknob, glancing around the room he saw only one door with something hanging from the knob so he moved toward it, whatever was dangling from it unrecognisable in the dimness within the guest house. Reaching the door, Nino saw that Alya had carefully balanced a pair of his headphones on the knob, they were his favourite pair and he’d been looking for them for days! Grinning and rolling his eyes, Nino pushed the door open and saw a weird, slightly curved lump under the sheets of one of the beds. Suspecting that it was the box, Nino pulled the sheets back and stowed Nooroo’s little, craved black and red box within the much larger black and red one before smoothing the sheets back out, making the box a little bit less conspicuous for when the girls came back.

Releasing Wayzz and feeding him again, Nino exited the guest house through the back door and, by way of the shadows and some very carefully timed moving, made his way to the hedged garden where he sat down on a wrought iron bench and pulled out his phone, texting Alya to tell her that it was done.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after Nathalie’s fall, Alya’s phone pinged, though she remained glued to the illusory Chat Noir and Ladybug’s sides she’d drifted to the back of the room for a little bit more peace and quiet. Keeping up an illusion always made her tired and maintaining one such as this for this many people was draining her in a way she’d never experienced. She’d gotten one of the waiters to bring her an espresso about 10 minutes ago, she’d downed the entire boiling hot cup in seconds, not caring if she signed her taste buds off completely because she would take any energy she could get at this stage. Discreetly checking her phone, Alya had to hold in her joyful whoop as she read Nino’s message. He’d done it. They’d done it. A small smile on her face as the only hint toward what she’d just read on her phone, Alya had her illusions begin to say their goodbyes and make their way toward the exit. It took longer than she’d wanted because people kept asking for Ladybug’s autograph and each time she’d had the illusory form of her best friend decline, she’d felt more and more guilty.

Once each of the illusions was out the door, herself included, Alya released Trixx from the necklace and fed the starving Kwami before making her way, dead on her feet, to the garden where Nino had said he was so she could collapse into her boyfriend’s arms and pass the fuck out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Adrien and Marinette had arrived in the room, Kagami had slipped out and kept an eye on Alya from the other side of the room. She could see that her friend was getting tired but she kept her distance so she didn’t blow Alya’s cover, after a little while, Kagami saw Alya check her phone and grin slightly. The fake Ladybug and Chat Noir started to say their goodbyes and push through the crowd to the stairs so they could leave, realising that this meant that Nino had done it and that Luka needed to get to the box and out of here as soon as possible, Kagami turned on her heel and walked back into the room where Chloe, Marinette, Adrien and Luka were.

“Viperion, Queen Bee, if I may be so blunt, I think your friends are leaving,” Adrien’s bodyguard had ignored Kagami as she entered, the small Japanese girl addressing her superhero friends with no hint of recognition.

Luka looked confused for a moment before he realised what she was trying to say. “Queenie, looks like Buggaboo and Kitty Chat are makin’ a move, do we wanna get a move on too?” Using his head to gesture toward the door, Luka tried to give Chloe a subtle ‘we need to go, Nino’s done it’ without actually saying the words. Luckily, Chloe hadn’t taken as long as Luka had to read between the lines of what Kagami had said, understanding fully.

“Mr Agreste, please contact me once she is better. I would very much like to pay her a visit and make sure she’s alright,” Leaning down slightly to speak to Adrien, Chloe’s voice was soft and reassuring. Unable to form words at the moment as he watched Nathalie’s chest rise and fall so, so slowly, Adrien just nodded. “We’d best be off. I do hope that Rena and Ryuko didn’t lose Carapace in the crowd, it’s almost as if he turns invisible.”

Sweeping out of the room, Chloe fixed Gabriel with a cold stare that the older man didn’t flinch at or even react to, not that she’d expected him to. He’d actually gone further than she’d expected when he met her gaze. Luka on her heels, Chloe made her way across the ballroom and exited just after Alya and the illusions of Nino and Kagami. Allowing the other girl to disappear into the darkness to the left of the door, Chloe and Luka disappeared to the right and released their Kwamis.

“I’m going to go find Sabby,” Tucking Pollen’s box into the carefully hidden pocket of her dress, Chloe didn’t linger before taking the long route around the side of the house, to the gardens opposite to the one Nino and Alya were now resting in together, and back into the ballroom through large, open glass doors.

“We didn’t do a lot,” Kagami’s sudden voice caused Luka to jump. His heart racing.

“You scared me,” Turning to face his girlfriend, Luka opened his arms for her to walk into. “But I guess that it’s good that we didn’t do a lot, if we’d had to it might’ve meant that something went seriously wrong.”

Allowing Luka to wrap his arms around her waist, Kagami hooked her arms around his neck and let him sway her for a few moments to the melody of the faint classical music emanating from within the ballroom. “Let’s get the box and go,”

“Let’s?” Grinning down at the girl in his arms, Luka squeezed Kagami lightly.

“I’m coming with you. You didn’t think you were going to whisk the box away by yourself, did you?”

“Hmmm,” He let out a noncommittal hum that Kagami responded to with a joking scoff and a gentle smack to the side of his head. “I’d pretty much expected you to come with me, Echo, we make a good team.”

“That we do, Strings, that we do,”

A/N: I’m a massive lover of suspense and high stakes action but I didn’t think that would fit into this story so, yeah, this resolution was a little easier despite how tenuous and kinda shitty the plan was. Also, yeah, I added a power to Nino’s stuff, having one ability makes you a pretty shitty superhero when it only lasts like 5 minutes so he and Alya got an upgrade, sue me. Honestly, I’m not gonna apologise for a less than impressive resolution chapter because I actually really like this chapter as it is. If you don’t like it, please don’t tell me because I love writing and hearing people say that they hate my work is very demotivating

~~~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~

@lady-charinette @mochegato @katieykat513 @hnbutt @camelliaflwr @a-star-with-a-human-name @beauty-and-her-books @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket @aussie-lesbian @imgaydontshoot @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @itwasmydog

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caatws · 6 years ago

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the game (chp. 3)

(read chp. 1 or chp. 2 on ao3!)

(read on ao3!)

Gamora waits.

The universe continues on from that fateful day, in the Terran year 2018, because she lets it.

She does not allow the dusted to return. She doesn’t raise a hand to the few pieces left on the board, in their absence.

For the first time, she sits back and watches the universe move on, trying to make sense of Thanos’ actions.

Within one Terran month, Thanos destroys the Soul Stone.

She feels it—feels a deep, shattering, rift in her very being, but she still doesn’t budge, because Thanos may have destroyed this year’s Soul Stone…but not the ones of years’ past.

(Honestly, her mind struggles to comprehend it all, because she is mortal and not meant to exist out of time with the stone, but there is no other way.)

But with the destruction of the stone came the destruction of her ability to leave it, to resurrect the dusted and live among them.

Part of her panics. This was a good move on his part.

But it’s not over. It can’t be.

She continues waiting.

What’s left of the Avengers—plus her sister and Rocket—track down Thanos to his garden and kill him, shortly after he destroys the stones.

This is not her victory; it’s quite the opposite, in fact. If Thanos is removed from the game, then the game itself is ended.

Thanos knows this. And the few times she feels his presence in the Soul World, she can detect his sneers and questions, reminding her this is another loss.

But, once again, she doesn’t budge.

In total, she waits five Terran years.

It doesn’t feel like it in the Soul World. She lives out of time.

But that’s when things start getting interesting.

The Avengers decide to use time travel to get the Infinity Stones. It's not a bad plan, considering it's, well, their only plan, but Gamora already senses things will go south.

After all, only she knows the rules of the Soul Stone.

In practically every single past game, she's explained it to everyone, after returning to life with them.

But that never occurred this time around. So no live soul knows—not even Thanos, as the Thanos who did know has already perished.

Somehow, they split their forces up in such a way that two specific Avengers with an established deep, intimate, personal bond are the ones tasked with retrieving the Soul Stone, and Gamora figures the faintest of echoes from past games have swayed everyone's thinking in that direction.

She senses when the two Avengers in question arrive at Vormir and begin ascending the mountain.

She’s come to know each of the Avengers intimately over the…however many years it’s been, that she’s played this game.

Clint Barton. Also known as Hawkeye. He had a wife and family—all lost in the snap. Gamora usually gives them back to him. This time, she didn’t, and instead watched him turn to ruthless slaughter in his efforts to cope. She tells herself that when everything is over and she’s won, she will apologize to him personally.

Natasha Romanoff. Also known as the Black Widow. Gamora sees herself in her—a child stripped of her childhood, raised by monsters to kill others, for some grand purpose a child could never comprehend, but is expected to die for. Unlike Clint, Natasha channeled her grief into attempts to preserve whatever life left after Thanos, and even held out hope that the snap wasn’t the end. An impressive reaction, considering Natasha’s past. Gamora takes notes.

Both are lone wolves, from what Gamora’s observed. But both have learned to work in team settings and have given themselves up for those they consider family and friends.

On Vormir, a fight breaks out between the two of them for who must be sacrificed for the Soul Stone.

And Gamora knows it’s time to stop the game, then and there, because there's only one way this can end—a way she cannot, will not condone, because no one deserves to know this life, the endless cycle.

So, she stands, and says, “We have to reset."

But her child self doesn’t move.

Clint and Natasha teeter closer to the edge.

“No one else is supposed to die this way,” Gamora says, desperate.

Her child self just scrunches her nose, contemplating.

“We can stop this.” Gamora grabs her by her shoulders and shakes her. “Why won’t you stop this?”

“It’s a valid sacrifice,” she says.

Natasha hangs off the cliff, about to let go of Clint’s hand.

“She wanted nothing more than to be with her family again,” her child self continues. “She’s giving up that wish to save them.”

Gamora releases the child, and tries to reset everything herself. She closes her eyes and concentrates, but…

“This is the key to victory,” the child says, and holds up a hand to Gamora.

Orange fills her vision and she falls.

Natasha Romanoff also falls.

Gamora comes to beside Natasha's body. She looks around, but her child self is nowhere in sight.

She looks down at Natasha, and finds herself feeling…numb.

Her mind’s racing with a lot of other things—grief, guilt, anger, confusion.

But in her heart…nothing.

Because this is the first time she won’t be alone in many years.

It’s a strange pill to swallow. Too many emotions to feel at once.

Instead, Gamora thinks back to the countless games she spent working closely with Natasha, plotting against her father. She recalls how intimately they came to knew each other, fellow children of monsters who stole them away from their homes and the childhoods they deserved to use them for their own agendas. Where Peter and the other Guardians couldn’t quite understand Gamora’s past trauma, Natasha was there, reminiscing in her own experiences that left her struggling to do what little good she could do in her world.

She thinks back to the child’s—the stone’s—face, curious and ruthless and unwilling to prevent this tragedy.

Only then does it hit her, and she cries out, over Natasha’s unconscious body, for the second life to be saved, but ruined, by the Soul Stone and its games.

Sometime later, Natasha slowly sits up and look around, expression hesitant.

“Hello,” Gamora says calmly from behind her, trying to maintain a relaxed, yet still defensive, stance, in case she attacks, because this Natasha will not recognize her, and the realization hurts Gamora more than she thought it could. “You’re the one they call Widow."

Natasha looks unsure of what to make of Gamora. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“Anyone. Everyone.” Gamora almost smiles. “You’re one of the most dangerous women in the galaxy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Gamora says. “Because they call me the most dangerous woman in the galaxy.”

Natasha’s eyes dart around her quickly, and her hands move to where Gamora knows her weapons would normally be. “Who are you? And where the hell are we?”

“My name is Gamora,” she says, slowly. “And this is the Soul World.”

Natasha calms down fairly quickly after that, once it’s clear Gamora doesn’t pose an actual threat. She paces around a bit, trying to work everything out in her head. Gamora watches.

“What do you last remember?” Gamora asks.

“I remember…going to space. No, not just space—time travel. With…” Natasha pauses. “Clint. Oh my God.”

“He’s fine,” Gamora says.

“The Soul Stone…did he get it?”

Gamora can feel him carrying the stone—carrying them—back to the rest of his team, heart heavy with grief. “At your expense.”

“It had to be done,” Natasha says, boldly, without any hesitation. “Whatever it takes to bring everyone back. And stop that purple son of a bitch.”

Gamora wonders just how far Natasha is willing to take this "whatever" to save the universe.

They watch the rest of the timeline play out together, and the Avengers try to gather up the rest of the Stones to reverse Thanos’ snap. Banner snaps his fingers with his own Infinity Gauntlet, and the world around Gamora and Natasha practically comes undone.

Suddenly, Gamora feels the souls of the dusted leave all at once.

It’s a strange feeling—one she’s never had before, as the typical gatekeeper of the souls, controlling when they’re released.

Now someone else has taken over the controls.

“I can’t believe we just,” Natasha pauses, gesturing vaguely. “We just sit here?”

“There isn’t much else we can do,” Gamora says.

“I don’t like it.”

Gamora doesn’t reply.

Sure enough, the Avengers triumph against Thanos again—for real, this time. It may be a Thanos who doesn’t know what’s to come, yet, regarding the stones and the snap and most definitely not their game, but it’s something.

And then Steve Rogers goes back in time to return the Soul Stone, because he's an honorable man Gamora's come to respect but question, and Natasha no longer owes a debt.

She’s a free woman.

“Come with me,” she begs Gamora.

“I can’t.”

“You have someone—your family—all waiting for you,” Natasha points out, as if Gamora has a choice in the matter. She bites back a cutting reply that would’ve reminded Natasha of the fact.

Gamora settles for, “So do you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Natasha insists, and Gamora swallows back the sudden urge to cry.

“You have to,” she says.

“I’ll come back for you.”

“Natasha—“

“I’ll—I’m gonna figure it out,” Natasha says. “I swear. I will. I’m coming back.”

Natasha fades completely then. Gamora wipes a stray tear from her eye.

“Yes,” she whispers. “You will.”

This is not her victory, nor does she believe it’s the most victorious outcome for the people she’s come to love and admire after countless games who have no memory of her nor any knowledge of her power.

She can get them a better ending—get everyone a better ending.

So, she resets.

This time, after the snap occurs and the dust settles, a familiar face joins her in the interim.

“Why am I here?” Natasha asks. “What—where…?”

“Just give it a moment,” Gamora says calmly. “It’ll come back to you.”

As it does, Gamora watches Natasha’s face embark on a journey of expressions, visualizing her mental process, before Natasha finally settles for a soft, “What the fuck?”

“You're back in the Soul World,” Gamora says, an echo of their first meeting. “And you can now wield the power of the Soul Stone. With me. To defeat Thanos.”

Natasha blinks. She looks like she’s about to say something, raising a hand and opening her mouth.

Then she turns abruptly and walks away.

Gamora takes a few steps after her. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere. I don’t know. Anywhere.” Natasha continues walking. “Just. Not here.”

Gamora watches her walk until she fades into the orange hues, only for Natasha to reappear on the opposite side of where she’d walked to, now walking toward Gamora.

“There is nowhere but here,” Gamora says.

Natasha stops. “This is above my pay grade.”

It's a shitty fate that Gamora doesn't know how to justify. But a selfish part of her relishes in the fact that she won't have to do this alone anymore.

So, Gamora gestures to a nearby pillar, and moves to sit down. "We have a lot to catch up on."

#gamora #natasha romanoff #endgame #gotg #avengers #endgame spoilers #mcu #my fic #here we are folks!!! the end!!!!!#well for now obvi...gonna go work on the next parts soon

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comicteaparty · 5 years ago

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July 29th-August 4th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from July 29th, 2019 to August 4th, 2019. The chat focused on Millennium by Deo.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Millennium by Deo~! (http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until August 4th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. Do you believe Keith and Aaron will get their acts together as Luzio wants, or are they doomed to be thieves forever? What is your reasoning regardless? Also, how do you think the two became so downtrodden in the first place?

Nutty (Court of Roses)

1) I'll admit, my favorite scene is Luzio comforting Sage after the terrible nightmare he had. It's a small scene, but parts like that really hit me hard.(edited)

2) "Doomed" assumes that being thieves is bad by default. ;P In all seriousness, while klepto habits die hard, the two seem good-hearted, so I feel confident that whether they clean up their act or remain thieves, they'll have good intentions behind it. I think, based off bits of their story we can glean from conversations ( http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/107/ http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/113/ ), their state may have to do with them both avoiding their families to be together, or running off altogether. At least Aaron's dad keeps in contact, so that's something.(edited)

snuffysam

All the scenes of Luzio and Sage interacting are so pure . I agree, Nutty, this scene was my favorite (http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/104/). I also love the scene of the gang fighting in the colosseum (http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/44). A strong action scene is always a plus in my book!

I suppose it's nice that Aaron's dad keeps in touch, but i'm not sure that counts for much when your calls are attempts to arrest your son lol.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. What do you think was going on in Luzio’s life when he met Keith and Aaron? How do you think the two of them helped Luzio? What other theories or questions do you have regarding Luzio’s personal life story?

RebelVampire

1) My favorite scene in the comic so far is probably when Luzio realizes Sage isn't with them and basically busts through a wall. Not only was it really comical, but it was excellent character development for Luzio both showing his power level and the depths of his ability to care for someone. But also it was badass. 2) No. Keith and Aaron gonna be thieves forever. Maybe thieves with real jobs, but still probably thieves. I don't see either them as the type to suddenly be like, "Oh yeah we should follow societies rules." I don't think they have enough respect for society for that. Which I leads me to how it happened. I get the impression that they're the type of got really down on their luck, society didn't help them, so ya know, if society wont help damn society. Or something like that.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. What do you think was the end goal for the experiments done on Sage? Besides plant powers and health issues, what other consequences do you think there are? Do you think Sage will grow past them (and if so, how)? Also, will Sage remain with Luzio?

RebelVampire

@snuffysam I don't see the problem. What's a few threats about calling the police between father and son? XDXDXD

3) Probably maybe Luzio is my favorite? That's a hard call cause this is the sort of comic where I'd really like more content before I can diehard settle on anybody. At the moment though, I like that Luzio has this cute blend of being strict and being the type of person who wants to let all the strays in the house. It makes for a cute and interesting dynamic. 4) Luzio strikes me as the type who left, did some stuff, and then it suddenly dawned on him he didnt really know what he wanted to do with himself anymore. Thus he was filled with wanderlust, maybe poor and stuck in emotional turmoil. If this is the case, then Keith and Aaron are at least good for being cheerful, and what better ways to cheer someone up. I am excited to find more about Luzio's home, cause compared to the others I get the impression he was relatively more privelaged. So I'm eager to see if that's the case or if Luzio is just good at hiding everything.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. Do you believe Luzio giving so many people second chances is a good or a bad thing? How do you think it will overall help or hurt Sage? What do you think the story can teach us about life and the nature of second chances?

RebelVampire

5) My favorite illustration is probably all the ones rom the nightmare sequence. http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/102/ I love the vague angles and the dramatic change in color. It's a fantastic way to really drive the horror in while at the same time capturing the dream like quality nightmares can still have. 6) Given what we see happening on Kessiah's planet and with the new location, I imagine plant growth is pretty important. So important that just leaving plant's to their own devices means bad things. So the end goal of the experiments on Sage were to create plant experts who could vastly increase the speed at which colonization happens and prevent famines by being able to watch for crops. As far as consequences for Sage, there's definitely mental trauma there. Although maybe he has more than just sway over plants. Like he'll wake up one day and discover he can photosynthesis. I don't think what happened to Sage is something you grow out of though. He'll learn to manage it emotionally at some point, but it'll be a permanent scar upon his soul. Sage better remain with Luzio. I'll be mad otherwise. O_O

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. After escaping John, why do you think Stitch remained with Keith and Aaron? Further, why do you think she didn’t want to tell Luzio the reason? How might her blossoming relationship with Kessiah affect her relations with the others?

RebelVampire

7) Ummm....ummm! It's a tie between Luzio and Sage and then Keith and Aaron. I like Luzio and Sage's relationship for how different then are. Luzio has the stren work thing going on whereas Sage is kind of a soft, doofy dude. So it's really beautiful to see them still manage to keep along with each other and, as I've said several time before, demonstrate the depth of their care for each other. Keith and Aaron I liked though because they do have these similar goofy attitudes. They're like a great dynamic duo and when they're together, they bring the barrel of laughs. That being said, I also like the serious moments that sneak in too, showing it's not all fun and games either. But mostly they just bring so much energy to the story and I love it. 8) I mean...I believe in second chances, but it's gotta bite Luzio in the butt one day. Cause just imagine if he invites the wrong person in and they do something to Sage. Like a mole from John or something. That being said, I also can't say its a bad thing, cause distrusting too much is also how you wind up never getting along with anyone. Overall, so far, I feel like the story shows us that a healthy distrust is good. You don't want to give everyone the keys to the city on day 1, because they might fleece you.

9) The scars. There are so many scars, so many different types, and I love it. Particularly, though, I love the shading on Stitch's scars. It's that right blend of simple and detailed that makes it look very groteque and painful. It's the sort of scar I can look at, wince, and not wanna know how that happened cause it looks like it hurt like hell. 10) Honestly, I get the impression Stitch felt a) indebted to them and b) had nowhere else to go. Cause no matter where Stitch goes, there is probably a risk of John showing up or something. As for why she didn't want to tell Luzio, maybe its a vulnerability thing. Like Stitch just didn't want to admit needing companionship cause its a sign of weakness or something like that. I can't imagine Stitch is gonna be happy when Kessiah is ready to blow the joint, and I think that will be a negative mood that with affect everyone.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. Do you believe John is more of an entity for good or more of an entity for evil? What do you think John’s ultimate end goals are, especially given the increasing deaths going on? Also, why do you think John abandoned Sage and the lab Sage was in?

snuffysam

My favorite character is easily Stitch. I love the way she starts out shy and standoffish, but grows into being more confident and part of the crew's family. She also has my favorite design of the cast. With that said, all the character designs in this comic are great - in fact, I think it's Millennium's strongest aspect. The way different elements work together with colors to make a cohesive design. Like, you could show me any of these characters in any outfit and with any artist's artstyle and I'd still probably be able to recognize them.

It would be a wild twist if John turns out to actually be a good guy the whole time. I suppose it's possible that he's going about a noble goal in a corrupted way? For Sage, perhaps he was created as an experiment to see if humans can... survive on sunlight, maybe? Whatever he was really going for was probably a failure, given that he abandoned the lab.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. Ultimately, do you think Kessiah will get the help she needs for her planet? If so, do you think she’ll go back, or will her bond with Luzio’s crew sway her to stay? Even if her planet gets help, can the planet actually be saved?

RebelVampire

11) I have to second @snuffysam on this one. The character designs I think are the strongest asset. Not just visually speaking, but also in terms of their personalities as well. They all have their own interesting role to place in the story, and see how each individually triumphs or fails is really interesting. Of course, though, the visual designs are all super amazing as well, with lots of beautiful details in them. 12) I don't think John is really either. He strikes me more as an "ends justify the means ethics be damned" sort of scientist. So he's going to drag and progree society even if that means he has to murder half hte universe. As for John's end goals, I assume part of it is out a good willed intention to bring more prosperty. I think some of it is just progress for progress' sake. And I think this latter is a lot of the reason that might have to do with why so many ppl are dying more. Progress comes with certain sacrifices at some point. As for abandoning Sage, tbh, I don't think John meant to. I think John had to flee, intended to come back for Sage, but then was under the impression that nope, everyone was lost. Or something like that.

13) I'm looking forward to Kessiah getted help for her planet, ironically. I think her intentions coming out is really gonna drive some drama and ill feelings that we'll get to enjoy. 14) I kind of feel like this is a yes and a no. Like maybe Kessiah will get the help, but the help will be too late. Or something like that. I think Kessiah will want to stay with Luzio's crew though. Not to say it'll be an easy decision but I think bonds + new experiences + bad things happening on the planet will drive her to want more. or at the very least, to punch john in the face like everyone else wants to do.

LunarDolphin

Joined a bit late but I'll answer what I can cause I really do love this comic 3) Stitch (But I recently found it it may be because she has a few similarities to one of my characters, also her character building with sage is so good) 5) Favorite illustration is page 3 of chapter 6, that whole space transition had me audibly gasp it was so pretty

LunarDolphin

That sent early but.... 7) Luzio and Sage of course, Luzio and Kessiah also have a great dynamic, Sage and Stitch's growing friendship is adorable and I love that they're opening up to each other, and Stitch and Kessiah crushing on each other gives me life 13) Luzio telling Sage "I wont leave you, okay?" after the nightmare with John is going to come back to bite them, I can feel it, something is going to happen between the two of them and John. And it's not "'"confirmed""" he's alive but I really hope he appears in the comic.

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Millennium this week! Please also give a special thank you to Deo for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Millennium, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/

Deo’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/deo101

Deo’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/deoart

Deo’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/deo_101

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic book club #webcomic bookclub #comic tea party #ctp #millennium #deo

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meetmeatthecoda · 6 years ago

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Fic!!

@scifi-gk Here ya go!! :D The “tonight” I promised turned into “stupidly late bordering on early morning” but my posting usually does that sooo sorry about that :)) But yeah, here’s eight tiny chapters of fic based on this post called “Sweet OTP Things” which was just too damn cute to pass up. I used it especially to practice writing really short things really quickly. Trying to weave a believable situation complete with cute OTP feels in just a couple of lines is hard!! LOL so here’s my practice, basically! :D But I hope it’s still enjoyable! :)) Any feedback is loved and this will be posted on FF.net and AO3 as “Sweet Moments” with a link to the inspiration post! :) Much love y’all! <3

Give me more of Person A nuzzling into Person B’s neck because they’re cold and tired, and Person B m e l t i n g.

The heat’s on, filling the car with warm air swirling around them, slowly thawing their fingers and toes, numb from being out so long in the frigid December air. They’re huddled closer together than they normally would be in the backseat, gravitating toward the closest source of warmth in the dark.

Red sits very still, not wanting to disturb the odd peace and stillness that has settled over them here in the backseat, Dembe driving up front, seemingly immune to the atmosphere behind him. Lizzie is pressed close to his side, shivering slightly, and Red is cold too but he’s more worried about her. They were outside for too long and her coat is far too thin and –

Then he hears her teeth start to chatter and he simply can’t take it anymore. Red shifts to pull his arm out from where it is trapped against hers, his heart fluttering at her quiet noise of protest, and puts his arm around her shoulders instead, fully tucking her into his side.

Lizzie doesn’t question it, only exhaling a small breath in surprise, something Red can feel thanks to how close they are, and then it’s only a moment before she’s moving even closer, throwing her free arm around his waist and turning her head. He wonders for a moment what exactly she’s doing before he feels a cold shock on the warm skin of his neck and he completely melts inside as he realizes it’s her nose, because she’s nuzzling into his neck, her eyes closing with a quiet, contented sigh.

And Red stares wide-eyed into the darkness of the car, completely in shock as the secret love of his life cuddles with him.

Because Red?

Well, he’s warm now.

*7 more of these under the cut!*

Give me more slow dancing with no music, arms wrapped tightly around each other, breaths mingling.

She’s sitting on the couch, tucked into one corner, looking small and sad, her eyes heavy and wet. He feels his heart ache for her, wants to help her, always. And the only thing he can think to do is move forward and offer her his hand.

(It certainly isn’t the first time he’s surrendered to her.)

She looks at him in confusion, her brow furrowing and her chin trembling, looking so lost that he can only do one thing. He simply reaches down and takes her hand, tugging her gently but firmly to stand, pulling her without hesitation into his arms. She goes without resistance, not taking her hand back and unconsciously bringing the other up to rest lightly on his chest. With that, Red starts to move, just swaying slightly from side to side, taking her with him.

“What are we doing?” she asks quietly, a whisper, really, just breathing the question to him.

“We’re dancing, Lizzie,” he answers just as softly, slowly moving his free arm to rest around her waist.

“But there’s no music, Red,” she murmurs, sounding a little amused now and he’s so happy, even if it’s technically at his expense, loving the thought of her fondly shaking her head over his silly antics.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” he whispers, bringing his cheek to rest ever so gently against hers, silken and soft, warm and lovely. Perfect.

Lizzie.

“We’ll make our own.”

Give me more of Person A playing with Person B’s fingers because they’re bored, tracing the skin, examining the scars.

They’re only an hour into their long flight to Paris, nowhere near landing, and Liz is already restless. She’s finished the book she was almost done with when they boarded Red’s private jet and she was stupid enough not to bring a second one so here she is, tired of gazing out the window and too excited to sleep.

Bored.

Red is there next to her, as usual, occupied with a crossword puzzle, happy as can be. Liz would peer over his shoulder and try to help but Red likes to do his puzzles himself.

Stubborn man.

So, Liz can do nothing but stare, watch him frown at the paper, his bottom lip jutting out in the cutest pout, before his eyes light up as he thinks of the answer, hurriedly leaning forward to write it in. Liz feels her lips quirk up in a grin, something completely beyond her control. He’s just too adorable.

Liz’s eyes drift down Red’s arm, bared to her gaze by his rolled-up sleeve, and down to his hand, holding his signature red pen, neatly writing letters in the little boxes. His hands are really something, strong and capable, all long fingers and neat nails, a light dusting of blonde hair, and, when she looks a little closer, a curious collection of marks.

Liz frowns, leaning forward and unceremoniously taking Red’s writing hand in both of her own, running her fingers over the tendons and knuckles, and spying a faint line right above his middle finger. It could be from anything, knowing Red. Knife, sword, scissors. She can never tell with him.

“What’s this from?” she asks without preamble, tracing the long line with her own finger.

“Paper cut,” he answers simply, not questioning her sudden inspection.

Oh.

Liz smiles and hums absently in response, moving to run her thumb over the prominent bone of his wrist instead.

“Lizzie?” Red questions idly.

“Hmm?”

“As much as I’m enjoying this, do you think I’ll be getting my hand back anytime soon?”

Liz smirks to herself. She’s not bored anymore.

“Not until we get to Paris.”

Give me more soft kisses, lips barely touching, just chaste little things that leave both parties irrationally breathless.

It’s almost too much to bear, sitting this close to him, in some sort of tense limbo. They stare each other down, eyes not straying from one another, not challenging or cautious, more tentative and unsure. Their knees press together on the couch where they’re sitting, in the dimly lit living room of his latest safe house, where dusk fell quietly around them and left them suspended in this timid twilight.

Slowly, barely daring to breath, not taking her eyes off him, Liz moves her hand forward to lightly ghost her fingers over the back of his hand, resting on his knee inches away from her. She hears his slight intake of breath, sees his mouth open in surprise, as close as she is, and she revels in it.

It takes him a moment, a scared moment for Liz, waiting anxiously, but it isn’t too long before she feels rather than sees Red’s hand inch forward to brush her knee, and with that light touch, she knows she’s not in this alone.

(She never was.)

And it’s that thought that gives her courage enough to inch her head forward, leaving her hands to rest, their job done, and move her eyes to his lips. He follows suit, advancing at the same rate she is, slowly, achingly slow, as they get closer, until their lips finally brush. It is a soft, dry thing, barely there, and yet it is enough for a first kiss.

They pause, not moving away but not moving any closer as they consider each other in silence. Liz sees a gleam in Red’s eyes, something she can interpret easily and, oddly enough, feel reflected in herself, and it brings a flush to her cheeks. She felt something when their lips touched, something unfamiliar but very welcome, nothing jolting, not a shock or a spark. More like a smolder, warm embers starting to glow somewhere inside her.

Red examines her in turn and soon his eyes stray down to her lips, gazing at them in something akin to longing and it’s enough for Liz. She reaches out and kisses him again, keeping her eyes wide open, too enthralled by his face to stop looking quite yet as they share gentle, sipping kisses, Liz feeling as though he’s stealing her very breath, something she willingly gives to him. She watches his eyes drift shut, an action seemingly beyond his control. And as lips caress hers, so warm and persuading, she can’t help her own eyes starting to slip shut from the sensation, only one thought resounding clearly in her head.

(This is right.)

Give me more humming in the kitchen, making brownies at 3 AM for no reason at all.

He wakes to the smell of chocolate, smiling pleasantly before his eyes have even opened, wondering what Lizzie is making for breakfast, is she –

Wait.

Red is instantly alert and confused as he opens his eyes to see it’s still dark outside. He frowns and glances at the clock on Lizzie’s nightstand.

3:11am

Well. That’s odd.

He is out of bed within a few moments, tugging a white t-shirt on to accompany his striped cotton sleep pants before he pads out to the kitchen, stopping when he hears and sees Lizzie, completely at a loss for words or movement.

Because there she is, dressed in his button-down shirt and nothing else, all bare feet and a messy pony tail, humming softly to herself as she mixes some kind of chocolate batter in a big bowl, smears of it on her face and hands, looking up to smile brightly at him.

At three o’clock in the morning.

She’s going to kill him.

(He loves her so much.)

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he thinks it’s a fair question, personally, but she doesn’t seem phased, just continues to stir happily.

“Making brownies!” she says, smiling.

Well, that doesn’t help.

“Mhm,” he murmurs patiently, now starting to smile himself, unable to stand in the face of her happiness without absorbing a little for himself. “And why are you making brownies at three in the morning, love?”

It’s Lizzie’s turn to look puzzled, which he finds hilarious, and she just shrugs at him, starting to scoop the batter into a large tin.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says simply. “Wanna help?”

He blinks at her for a second more, taking in the unusual sight, and then nods. What else can he do? It’s not the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever done. And something about the thought of he and Lizzie puttering around in the kitchen together while the rest of the world is sleeping makes him as warm inside as the preheated oven.

So, he hurries forward to grab a spoon and start scooping, pausing only to playfully lick the smear of batter off her face, making her giggle.

They’ll sleep later.

Give me more holding hands, that simple act nearly overwhelming one or both of them, thumbs stroking over knuckles, fingers interlacing.

It’s all they can do, here in the back of an FBI SUV, in full view of Ressler and Samar in the front, with Ressler’s tactless eyes flicking to the rearview mirror at regular intervals.

It’s been another day, another life-threatening situation, another close call. This time they were both there, Red and Liz, as the team was surrounded, at least twenty guns pointed at them, the foreign hit men gesturing and yelling in a language none of them spoke. It was so scary, all of them fully expecting a gun to go off somewhere, and one of them to be struck by a stray bullet.

Killed by chance. Completely uncontrollable and unpredictable. Terrifying.

But backup arrived right in time and they’re here now, on their way back to the post office to be debriefed, no time to be alone in the near future. But they need something. So, by mutual agreement, their hands snuck forward on the seat until they touched and Red wasted no time in lacing their fingers together, almost too tight. But for Liz, it’s not nearly tight enough, and she’s squeezing right back, occasionally running her thumb over Red’s knuckles in her desperation to touch and be touched.

She can’t seem to regulate her breathing to anything other than short and harsh, knowing Red can hear her. And she can see Red’s other hand in a tight fist on his knee and she knows it would be touching her in a million different places right now if he had the freedom to do so. And Liz thinks that’s fair because if they were alone, she would have swung her leg over his hip and been in his lap long before now.

But, with them clutching at the only part of each other they can safely reach, their hands, here in the car, wishing they could be closer but holding themselves back, with Ressler and Samar talking quietly in the front, this is all they can do.

It will have to be enough. For now.

Give me more of Person A helping Person B with simple tasks, like brushing their hair, or putting on jewelry, where it’s obviously an excuse to be close to each other, but neither are complaining.

“Which do you think?”

Lizzie is standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, holding up two beautiful necklaces, one with a sapphire stone and one with a pearl, asking him which goes better with her dark blue blouse.

“The sapphire one.”

Lizzie smirks.

“You’re just saying that because you bought it for me.”

“Nonsense,” sniffs Red, although she’s partially right. “It’s not my fault that any shade of blue in the world accents your eyes beautifully. What am I supposed to say?”

She’s too busy laughing to answer him, putting away the pearl necklace with nary a protest. Red sees an opportunity and steps forward quickly.

“Please, allow me,” he murmurs, his voice deep as he presses up behind her, closer than strictly necessary, taking the delicate necklace from her fingers.

He sees her roll her eyes good-naturedly in the mirror, but she watches quietly as he works the tiny clasp with ease, swinging the necklace carefully over her head, and securing it in the back, even gently pulling her long, dark hair out from under the chain.

He looks up then, meeting her eyes in the mirror as she slowly leans her head back to rest against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her waist in answer. She closes her eyes, contentedly resting against him, and they stand there for a few lovely moments before he feels obligated to speak.

“Lizzie, I thought we were going out.”

“Hmm,” Lizzie hums carelessly, not opening her eyes, snuggling back against him as Red presses a kiss to the top of her head. “In a bit.”

Give me more picking out baby names, painting nurseries, and cradling their children.

“Stacey?”

“No. Carl?”

“God, no.”

“Beth?”

“Hmm. Sam?”

“…Yeah, maybe.”

They share a brief smile before turning back to their respective walls. They are in the newly thought of nursery in their home, painting it a cheery yellow while trading baby names back and forth, Red throwing out girl names and Liz brainstorming boy names. It’s mostly for fun, seeing who can come up with the worst ones, but lately they’ve gathered some serious possibilities.

And she has a feeling Sam was just added to the list.

Liz dips her paint roller in the tray of paint and lifts it back up to the wall with a slight groan, her baby bump, now six months big, getting in her way a little.

“Are you sure you should be doing this, Lizzie?”

“Yes, Raymond, I’m fine, thank you,” she smiles at him over her shoulder. She loves him for asking and she knows he’ll only be doing it more in the coming weeks. It’s wonderful. “Hey, where do you think the rocker should go?”

“Hmm,” Red hums, coming over to dip his brush in the paint tray, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as he passes by. “Maybe in the corner next to the window?”

“Yeah,” Liz smiles, thinking about it, imagining Red holding their baby in his arms, rocking them to sleep, tucked in the corner of the room, maybe humming or talking to them, the baby squirming gently in his arms, their big blue eyes staring up at him adoringly. Her heart swells at the image. “Yeah, I like that.”

(It’s perfect.)

“Hey, how about Agnes?”

(Completely perfect.)

“Let’s add it to the list.”

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #mine #fanfic #inspired by a post that's not mine!#linked above #the fic is called #sweet moments #8 short chapters #lemme know what you think if you feel like it!#love y'all!#:D #<3

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alteredphoenix · 4 years ago

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Untitled Alleria/Illidan One-Shot (WIP)(WoW)

A/N: I was adding a series on my AO3 dash for Alleria/Illidan one-shots (because those seem to be pretty popular somehow, despite there being no on-screen, canon interaction with them whatsoever BLIZZARD PLEASE COME ON GIVE THIS GIRL SOMETHING TO CHEW ON), and I was struck with this particular idea as I was doing so.

I like canon divergent AUs. I also like canon divergent AUs that role swap the Windrunner siblings around like a cup of dice in a game of Yahtzee, and I have a couple of them (and maybe a little more up in the noggin) buried away in the “fanfiction” tag on here. One of those AUs involves an Alleria that turns to fel magic instead of the Void, usually in instances where the Fall of Quel’Thalas still happens and either (a) the high elves are truly on the brink of extinction and eke by as wastrel highwaymen or (b) Kael’thas getting an intervention on his addiction and nearly all the blood elves become demon hunters, leaving Sylvanas to take up Alleria’s role as the sister who goes to Outland and studies the Void under Locus-Walker (also the idea of Nathanos in the role of Turalyon as a lightforged hunter is a hilarious image, and the thought of it would probably set people off even more than him hulked on valkyr-empowered Jailer juice in BfA!Darkshore).

Some of those ideas of the “dark, mature, nitty-gritty” nature, but sometimes I want something light and fluffy. Or as light and fluffy as you can get with demon hunters. I don’t know how the body paint aspect came into play other than it being “it just did” and, well, the idea was too good to pass up, so yeah. It’s about as spicy as you can get where subtext is concerned.

Her eyes never stray from him, even as he continually dips down her body as to be almost out of sight. Head bent low, focus on the swathe of toned stomach that’s rising and falling beneath his hand. The tip of the brush rests in the dipper beside them, fingers closed around the handle, thoughts churning with gradual reflection.

“Well. This is new,” Alleria drawls, the hint of amusement prevalent in her tone. “Can’t say I ever expected the Lord of Outland to appear so undecided.”

“I am not,” Illidan mumbles, and settles on chewing the inside of his cheek. Her muscles are tough, hard, crisscrossed with scars old and new; most of them are white and faded, jagged outlines indicative of blades and arrowheads from battles long-ago. There is barely any tension in her. He spreads his fingers out even further across her abdomen until he feels the ligaments begin to strain, nails hooking ghost-like against her skin.

Her breath hitches, quick and flighty. He clears his throat, deigns to tap his finger against the handle. “I have--”

“Too many ideas?”

“Hmmm.” Tap tap tap, goes his finger. Tap tap tap. “Perhaps.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? Half the Illidari may as well be going commando on the field already.” Tiny ripples of laughter bounce in the cusp of his palm. “The Burning Legion doesn’t care for nudity.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Then do whatever you see fit. I won’t mind either way.”

“Hmmm.” He tips his head to the left, then he tips his head to the right. Each motion he makes causes the long ropes of hair not bound in the topknot to sway and drag along her flesh, causes her composure to twitch and spasm in little spurts. He needn’t have to look up to see the grin on her lips, the mischief twinkling in fel-tainted eyes often hidden behind the scrap of wrathguard armor serving as her visor. (It’s done, she had told him, one foot on the demon’s chest next to the blade protruding from him, hands caked up to the elbows in blood as she held up his pulsating heart for Illidan to see. Let me know what comes next when I wake up, she added, and took her first bite.)

Once, long ago, he would imagine having those kind of eyes and that kind of smile on Tyrande, out of character as those fantasies would be. But young blood had run hotly in his veins then, and darkness has a funny habit of bringing one’s true colors to light when all the world is theirs to bear witness to, so he was wont to be privy to daydreams he would have otherwise found overly saccharine. If his brother had any inkling of those blue hour fantasies, he did not show as such. For all he knew, and knows now, his secrets were his alone to entertain.

Illidan hums again, and the sound reverberates from the base of his throat to the core of her sternum. Alleria does not stiffen. She holds still, waiting patiently, expectantly.

#world of warcraft #fanfiction #preview #mywriting #the burning crusade #i'm still impressed i'm writing het btw #that's even more rare than me writing yuri

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missmewitthat · 7 years ago

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I DON'T WANT TO BE SINGLE

"Being single is not a disease. Being single is a gift. Being single is a heavenly calling." -- Pastor Taffi Dollar

I called myself going to church on Wednesday night for numerous reason. I hadn't been to my church home in weeks and I tend miss it when I'm away for any length of time. Sidenote : I sat next to a crackhead. She was saved and sanctified, but to make a long story short she was a crackhead and she upset several people around her. Any who, I struggled through praise & worship which has been a normal occurrence with everything that has taken place in my life lately. I attend World Changers Church International and I have attended this church all of my life. Pastor Taffi comes out and begins to teach. Her message for the night is a continuation of "Grace to Change". Cool. I'm listening and taking notes. Well I was looking up information on my phone about the Apostle Paul during that time but that is between me and the Holy Spirit. While listening and taking notes she all of sudden starts talking about being single and the single life. It probably wasn't all of sudden but it felt like it. I ain't gone lie I felt attacked on May 2, 2018 around 7:40 p.m. "Being single is not a disease. Being single is a gift. Being single is a heavenly calling". Pastor Taffi repeated this statement more than three times for the people in the back and I instantly became furious.

"Being single is not a disease. Being single is a gift. Being single is a heavenly calling." -- Pastor Taffi Dollar

Ladies and Gentlemen I got so mad at that statement I decided to write it down. Yes, anger made me write it down. I almost started crying right there in the middle of her message because I wanted to raise my hand so bad and ask one simple question. If being single isn't a disease then why does it feel like a disease. Why does it feel bad to be single? I can barely hang with the few friends I have because I don't want to feel like the fifth or seventh wheel. I have read and had people tell me that I have to find a whole new set of friends because I am single. Where is the fairness in that? Guys when I left that bookstore and made it to my car. I called my friend Grace and did the unthinkable out loud. I questioned God's plan for my singleness. My problem isn't that I don't believe what she said on that pulpit. My problem is that everyone in my age group I know is married or on their way to being married. I don't hear any REAL single women saying these things. What I mean by real single women is never been married and no kids. Where are these women? Do they exist? Is it just me and Grace??

These incredible and powerful women are living out God's Will for their life everyday and they are married to these great men of God and having kids but telling me that singleness isn't a disease. HOW SWAY?! I cried and screamed on the phone talking to my friend. I dropped a curse word or two in the midst of my rant because being single sucks and if I JUST have to be single it would be nice to experience the good parts of my singleness. I want to see God move in life but its like I'm stuck in this same box. This life I live isn't God's Will and I know it but their is nobody that has walked in my shoes to show me what to do. I don't know one single CHRISTIAN woman that hasn't been married, doesn't have kids , and isn't in a relationship. Does this woman exist?

Where is God and where is my husband?

GOD WHAT DO YOU WANT TO ME DO?

WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?

I've been made to feel bad about my singleness my entire life, but I don't know what to do about being single. I am 2 years away from 30 and I get the looks that a) question my sexuality b) start counting the eggs left in my womb. Where are the real single women? Are they happy? Are they living out God's Will for their life? How do I live this out the right way?

Thank God that I know at least one person that knows a bible verse or two because I startled to spiral at the thought of "Singleness being a heavenly calling" You mean this might be forever!!! Jesus, help me! As hard as it is for me to admit this I know I am single and lonely. I know that is not how God intended for it to be. Grace(pun intended) reminded me that we have to use the things we go through to help others. I don't know exactly what I'm learning right now to help somebody else, but I got three bible verse out of it.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake. - Deut. 31:6

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. - Heb. 10:35-36

The temptations in your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than you can stand. When you are tempted, he will show you a way out so that you can endure. - 1 Corinth. 10:13

Now I'm on search for the single women. We have to link up and encourage one another. I feel alone in this because I am not dating or actively looking for a husband. At 28, I am pretty sure I don't even know how to date.

I want it to all be God. I don't want to wonder/question and compromise my worth and body like I've done in the past. I want my next union to be God-ordained and God-constructed.

Honestly, I've strayed away from God lately because I've felt forgotten. Feeling invisible is a constant battle and I want to be seen by Him. Please see my heart God and see the hearts of the women that have made mistakes but in the end always wanted to do it your way. Help us Lord and give us strength.

Thank you for God giving me the courage to expose my truth.

Thank you for reading this.

✌🏾

"Being single is not a disease. Being single is a gift. Being single is a heavenly calling." -- Pastor Taffi Dollar

#single #wcci #singlewomen #purpose #anger #painintopurpose #singleness #idontwanttobesingle #almost30 #God #Jesus #JesusChrist #Beingsingleisnotaddisease #heavenlycalling #help #truth

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crimsonupdates · 7 years ago

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F O R T U N E F A V O R S T H E B O L D ( part i )

❝ Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.❞

May 1st, 9:30

The Ministry of Magic announces that the Death Eaters are attempting to tamper with the election through voter suppression and intimidation – as evidenced by their continued onslaught of Wizarding and Muggle communities. With the support of the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix, they instrument random checks for Dark Marks (alongside mandatory checks if working for the Ministry) and ask citizens to come forward with any information. The revelations found in Cassandra Burke’s memories help sway skeptical high-ranking opinions and she is granted immunity for any past crimes. Her name is never mentioned outside of to a select few, and instead, the rumor is spread that the secret information was revealed by Augustus Rookwood, who is released thanks to his ‘compliance’ with the Ministry.

May 1st, 16:30

Scandal arrises when Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Lestrange’s ties to the Dark Lord are revealed and Rodolphus’s position at the Ministry is terminated. Further suspicion falls upon his brother, Rabastan Lestrange and friends of the family – specifically Emma Vanity and Thorfinn Rowle, given their aid to both the campaign and closeness to the family.

It is decreed that the Death Eaters are a terrorist organization and anyone found bearing a Dark Mark is held in contempt of Wizarding Law and considered an enemy of the Ministry and of Wizarding kind.

Further distrust grows in the Wizarding Community of those purebloods unwilling to step forward to prove their innocence, and the Auror Office is placed on high alert.

May 1st, 18:00

The Death Eaters, with Orion Black and Rodolphus Lestrange leading the charge, claim that the Ministry is attempting to rig the election in favor of Millicent Bagnold, but their protests are silenced by the wizarding community’s outrage at their affiliations.

When their actions have no effect and Voldemort fails to come to their aid, they unleash their own attack. Known Order members are targeted. Molly Prewett is cornered on her way home by a terrified Augustus Rookwood, hoping to reaffirm his devotion to the cause. Edgar Bones is attacked by Igor Karkaroff eager to show off his loyalty and another masked assailant. He barely escapes, only doing so by killing the masked person and fleeing.

Aversio feeds off the hatred and terror by unleashing vengeance upon known Death Eaters. Dolores Umbridge and Rosemary Parkinson are captured due to their suspected affiliations to Orion and Rodolphus respectively and tortured for possible information by Lucinda Talkalot when they refuse to offer up anything substantial.

Although Lucinda presents herself as working for the Ministry, her actions are only sanctioned by Aversio. She is aided by Pandora Lightwood, who uses her aptitude with potions to a darker advantage.

Mary Macdonald is suspicious of Lucinda’s activities during the capturing and decides to investigate.

May 2nd, 8:30

After the previous nights’ violence, a magical mural starts to take shape in Diagon Alley in support of Millicent Bagnold and against the oppression of those not pure of blood. Orchestrated by Greta Catchlove, it is a combined effort of Order members and those in support of her message. Over the course of the day it grows as a silent and non-violent message of support, her efforts are aided by a remorseful Edgar Bones.

May 2nd, 12:30

As the powderkeg that is Wizarding London continues to gain fuel, Aurora Sinistra alongside Florence Wilson lead an Aversio protest against the Death Eaters. While not working in support of the Ministry, they want to ensure that Death Eaters and potential sympathizers are revealed before they can elect someone who goes entirely against their ideals. It is an attempt to instill trust for their side in the wizarding community once more.

Aurora, straying off message, voices slight concern about the presence of Death Eaters in the Ministry, and questions their ability to stop the war.

May 3rd, Election Day

Arthur Weasley with the aid of Arabella Figg secretly install Muggle video-cameras at polling stations, Davina Selwyn and Fabian Prewett volunteer to help watch the footage for any suspicious activity and alert the Auror office if people attempt to tamper with votes.

While installing the cameras, Arabella and Arthur are ambushed by Thorfinn Rowle and Evan Rosier, and the two pairs enter into a skirmish that leaves all four injured.

The other riots and attacks that appear are squashed quickly by a presence of both the Ministry and the Order, with Aversio staying in the shadows and only voicing minimal protests to the election.

May 4th, 1:30

Election Results are released, with Millicent Bagnold gaining a sweeping victory and the minimal Death Eater vote spread thin between Orion and Rodolphus.

Fireworks celebrate her victory -- a new start for Wizarding kind and a historic event in both the Muggle and Wizarding world with female Minister’s elected on both fronts. The sparks of light cover the sky in shimmering gold and silver streaks that serve to diminish the memory of the Dark Mark that had hovered over Diagon Alley a month previously.

May 4th, 11:00

Amos Diggory and Arthur Weasley in accordance with the new Minister of Magic, establish a secret subsection of the Order specifically made for rooting out traitors amongst Order ranks. Members immediately included into the committee are Molly Weasley, Greta Catchlove, and Alice Prewett.

Katrina Parkinson is one of the first put under surveillance thanks to information Amos gained from Orion.

Also under direct suspicion are Septima Vector (due to her appearance in past riots),Caradoc Dearborn (due to his lack of involvement and absence), Edgar Bones (due to traces of the killing curse being found in his wand), and Fabian Prewett (due to rumors of him using unneeded violence to subdue enemies).

May 5th, 12:00

Millicent Bagnold proposes to pardons Orion Black for his crimes in order to provide some sense of fragmented unity within the Wizarding World.

The decision is met with extreme disagreement on all fronts. Hestia Jones and Amos Diggory are particularly angered, leading to a heated debate about government power and personal biases. They believe that this choice will reflect badly upon the Ministry and the Order, especially given the violence last perpetuated by the Death Eaters.

When Sirius Black hears of this proposal through Lucinda Talkalot, he joins forces with her and Aurora Sinistra to plan a protest against the Ministry should Millicent decide to go through with the pardon.

May 6-9th

An uneasy peace lingers, violence placed to a war-time minimum thanks to the new leadership of Millicent Bagnold and the Auror team.

However, danger is brewing, with both Aversio and the Death Eaters unhappy with the progression of the past couple of days and plotting a way to reestablish the power they were hoping to claim for themselves.

*please message the main if you have any questions about this plot drop and we’ll attempt to clear everything up for you. your character can be a lot more involved than they are in this – as it is only a rough outline and we tried to leave a lot of things open to interpretation, or for characters to step in. if your character is not involved (or heavily involved) as of now and you liked the plot drop, they will be featured in part two! please don’t write past may 9th in game time.

#crtevent #hp rp #lsrpg #literate rp #mature rp

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anamelesstraveler · 8 years ago

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A McHaleinski fanfic, rated T.

Chapter 5/8 | 5,492 words

Peter’s death was supposed to be the end of it. They were supposed to go their separate ways, supposed to ignore Derek’s new Pack as best they could. But with a reptilian nightmare and an army of hunters arriving at their doorsteps, that becomes difficult. And if they’re going to live through this, they need to find common ground. Even in the most unexpected of places.

An s2 McHaleinski AU.

This story includes an alternate s2 AU, Everyone Lives AU, developing relationship (McHaleinski), and character growth.

ALRIGHT so we've finally come up to the end of season 2. Which is... we all know that's a contentious point in the series for a lot of people. I dealt with the various character motivations and actions in what I think is a pretty fair way, but we'll see if it comes across that way.

Side B: While the young, they wait alone

Chapter 5

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

Before: Side A, Ch6

Jackson Whittemore is dead. A child is dead, murdered right in front of John and everyone on that field, and no one saw a thing.

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

Everything about the rest of the evening is a blur. Until it all comes to a crashing halt, with Gerard on his deathbed, the kanima impaled on his claws, Jackson Whittemore’s miraculous revival and Scott…

Scott. Fuck.

Just thinking his name has Derek feeling ill all over again. Makes him think of Gerard’s foul blood filling his mouth. Of Gerard’s smug grin. Of Scott gazing down at him, face startlingly impassive, foreign from everything Derek thought he knew about the boy, and his hands holding Derek still - trapped, immobile--

‘No.’ He shoves the thoughts violently away. If he stops to process it, he’s going to go low and useless. And he can’t-- Gerard may have disappeared, but he’s still alive. Chris Argent and his daughter are still present, and could turn on them at any moment.

Scott is glowering at him, and now Derek doesn’t have the strength to trust that the boy won’t lash out.

“How could you do that?” Scott hisses at him. It sounds like a gunshot in the stillness of the warehouse now. “We were supposed to save Jackson, not kill him!”

“He’s fine,” Derek grunts. Relatively, anyway. Stiles has - with a token reluctance - dragged an emergency blanket from the back of the Jeep and offered it to the naked, trembling teenager. He’s still huddled against Lydia Martin’s side, refusing to look at any of them. But he’s certainly alive, which is more than Derek ever expected.

“You stabbed him, Derek!”

“I was trying to save us all,” he snaps. “Not just a few of us.”

“No, you were trying to save yourself.”

Derek thinks of Isaac, stabbed and tossed around the building as if he were nothing. About Boyd and Erica tortured in an Argent basement. About Stiles beaten and dropped on the street as a warning, about him driving his Jeep through a wall despite his injuries. And Derek’s fury wells up inside him, a spitting, feral thing that claws up his throat. “You’ve got no right to say that. You were so concerned with your stupid little plan that you didn’t care who got hurt. Did you even stop to look for Stiles? Or Boyd, or Erica?”

“Hey,” Stiles mutters from where he’s swaying into Boyd’s space. The taller boy is supporting him at the elbow. “Leave me out of this.” But Scott swivels his head around to look at Stiles anyway. Derek watches as the boy’s expression shudders and crumples, seeming to finally realize that the state of his best friend’s face didn’t come from crashing the Jeep. That the scents of blood and pain on him are hours old.

“Stiles…”

Stiles’ eyes go wide. “Come on, man, not with the Face. I’m okay, see? Just…” But he winces as he goes to gesture reassuringly. “Just fine.”

“What happened?” Scott persists.

Derek cuts off Stiles’ inevitable dismissal with a snarl. “Gerard happened. While you were worrying about your precious girlfriend, he was kidnapping your best friend and beating the shit out of him!”

“She’s not… we’re not anymore--”

“All you cared about was her, and she stabbed us all in the back, Scott!” He gestures angrily at the Argent girl, who flinches and squares her jaw. “Or do you even care that she was torturing your friends? Did you only care about keeping your secrets and that Gerard made some bullshit promise in exchange for my life--”

“He was gonna hurt my mom, you hypocritical ass!” The words explode out of Scott with enough force that Derek’s mouth clicks shut. “You think I owe you the truth when all you’ve done is keep secrets too? When you were working with Peter to kill Jackson?”

Peter steps forward, smarmy grin in place already. “Actually, there was a plan there. Several legends reference shifters being ‘cured’ by calling their name - by reminding them of who they are. That’s why Lydia was so important--”

“Peter,” Derek barks, his eyes never straying from the irate teenager in front of him. “Shut up.”

“Don’t talk to me about Stiles getting hurt,” Scott continues with his tirade, “like you care. You sent your Betas after him before, remember? You didn’t care about him getting hurt then.”

Derek cringes. “I didn’t--”

“And after then you tried to kill Lydia - because you suspected she was the kanima. You didn’t even have any real proof, Derek! The only thing you cared about was how quickly you could make this go away. You didn’t care who had to die for it.” Scott throws up his arms, his expression twisted in distress. “I was trying to keep anyone else from dying! I was doing everything I could.”

“You could’ve told me,” Derek growls back. The hint of desperation in his own voice alarms him. The squirming, anxious feeling in his chest that begs to fix this, to hope that Scott doesn’t actually want him dead is something he doesn’t want to examine.

“If I thought you would listen, I would have! But you would have just… just growled at me and then do whatever the hell you wanted - and get some of us killed. You’re not my Alpha, Derek. I don’t owe you my trust when you sure as hell haven’t earned it.”

So that’s it, then.

A hopeless frustration rises like bile up his throat. “Why should I bother earning your trust when all it gets me is being turned into an Argent’s tool?” he finishes. His voice comes out icy, and not at all hurt, which is… better.

And Scott flinches back, as sure as if Derek had struck him. The righteous anger gives way to pain and guilt and for a quick, infuriating moment, Derek’s own guilt rises to meet it. He shoves the feeling down ruthlessly, squaring his jaw.

Stiles chooses that moment to step between them, or attempt something like it. He more sways into their space, cringing and balancing himself with a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Alright, that’s enough. Both of you need to shut it. This entire thing was a barely mitigated disaster and you both fucked up royally. We managed. The end. Can we go home now, please?”

Scott turns to the boy with wounded eyes. “Stiles, you’re--” he stops, and Derek can actually see the words “you’re taking his side?” starting to form. Whether or not he stops because he sees Derek’s glare, or something else, is yet to be seen. Scott’s brow puckers in hurt and betrayal - something that satisfies the most vindictive parts of Derek’s mind. “Are you mad at me?” he asks Stiles, his voice small.

“No,” Stiles answers emphatically. “You did your best, dude. And we all survived. But you didn’t let me in on this either.” He reaches out for Scott’s shoulder. “He was threatening your mom, man. I would’ve helped. Somehow. I know I’m just the token human, but I’m not useless.”

“You’re not just the token human,” Scott protests.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Stiles agrees, his tone clearly distant and disbelieving. But before the other boy can work up an argument, his eyes zero in on Derek. “Are we done here? I want to go home.”

And Derek, really, can’t think of any reason to deny him. Not after everything.

Stiles takes his silence as assent, and tugs on Scott’s arm. “Cool. You’re comin’ back with me, right?”

Scott nods, seemingly unable to deny him either.

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

His dad is waiting on the porch for them when the Jeep pulls into the driveway. Luckily, the Roscoe is a sturdy old girl and the darkness hides the new scratches on the front end. On top of everything, Stiles really hates the thought of trying to come up with an explanation for them that doesn’t include driving through a flimsy steel wall and an actual goddamned lizard monster.

Every muscle in his body wrenches as Stiles slides from the driver’s seat. His head swims, but he manages to stay upright this time, aware of his dad watching him like a hawk from the house. He waves sheepishly as he rounds the car towards Scott, who’s trying and failing to look casual about the whole thing.

He keeps hold of Scott’s arm the whole way up to the porch. It’s all he can do not to topple over. Everything hurts. “Heeeey, Daddio,” he greets.

John isn’t impressed.

“So, sorry for running off. Emergency, you know. Scott was stranded.” Stiles leans forward, the illusion of a conspiratorial whisper ruined by his inability to keep his own balance. “He and Allison split.”

It’s mostly true, anyway. Scott had been left without a ride home and Stiles can safely say his and Allison’s relationship is over after this. And Scott is looking suitably guilty and dejected to go with it.

His dad doesn’t even blink. “And Miss Reyes and Mister Boyd?” he asks.

“Oh, they decided they’d go home tonight after all. Called Derek over to take them.”

“Mmhm.”

Stiles nods in unison with him. “Right. So we’re just gonna… go to bed. It’s alright if Scott stays over?”

“Sure, son.”

Stiles fights to keep his smile in place. Because even though his father is agreeing, he’s humoring Stiles. His tone is full of that careful patience that he only uses when there’s a Discussion coming as soon as it’s just the two of them again. He nudges Scott’s arm to get him moving. “Night, Dad!” he calls, a little too brightly.

“We’re taking you to the hospital to get you looked over in the morning!” John shouts after them. “And we’re getting your statement too.”

“Sure thing, Dad!” Stiles already has a passable story lined up to take care of that. He knows how this works. It was dark, he’ll say. They weren’t wearing school jerseys but they talked about the game, he’ll say. He didn’t recognize them from Beacon Hills, but they could’ve been at the game. He’ll tell them they had average builds and wore hoodies. He couldn’t see their faces. It was over too quick. And that’ll be the end of it.

Except for the fact that his dad isn’t going to be letting Stiles out of his sight any time soon. But he’ll deal with that when they come to it.

“Are you okay?” Scott whispers after they’ve slowly hobbled their way up the stairs.

“M’fine,” Stiles grunts.

“No, you’re not.”

No, he’s not. Every step makes his ribs pull, and he’s seriously regretting his knee-jerk decision to drive his poor Jeep through a wall. The jarring definitely didn’t help the injuries he’s already working with.

“I’ll live,” he sighs.

But Scott’s got that hangdog look on his face, eyes sad and pleading. “Let me see?”

Stiles considers deflecting again. But the fact of the matter is that he’s exhausted and his whole body aches, and fighting with his best friend over stupid shit just really isn’t on his list of things to do right now. “Yeah, okay. Gonna need you to help me change, anyway.”

This doesn’t seem to reassure Scott in the least, because his eyes go, if possible, even rounder and sadder. “Is it that bad?”

Stiles hunches his shoulders without answer. He can’t quite make it to a shrug, because his back seizes and makes his breath catch in his aching chest. Instead he beckons Scott over as he starts to work his flannel off and the shirt up over his torso. Scott has to lift it over his head, his fingers warm where they brush against his chilly skin. He suppresses a shiver, if only because it would hurt like a bitch. Stupid, warm-running werewolves.

He steels himself for Scott’s horrified gasp, pointedly not meeting his eyes. “It looks worse than it is,” he tries.

Scott doesn’t say anything. Stiles busies himself with balling up his shirts and tossing them away, trying very hard not to be aware of how his best friend hovers in horrified silence beside him.

The hesitant caress of fingers across his side makes him jump, and nearly collapse as his body violently protests. “Sorry!” Scott chokes, sliding in closer to support Stiles’ weight. His hold is firmer, but still gentle. Like Stiles is going to break if he doesn’t have a good enough grip. Which is… embarrassing. Yeah, he’ll go with that. The flush rises high on his cheeks.

“Dude--” His dismissal cuts off, because the pain abruptly fades away. There’s a rush of warmth and relief, sending gooseflesh up and down arms. His mind blurs as it tries to comprehend what’s happening to his body, a dizzy but not unpleasant feeling.

The veins on Scott’s arms have gone black.

“Stop that.” Stiles swats weakly at Scott’s hands. His fingers are sluggish, like they’ve been filled with syrup instead of blood.

“He hurt you,” Scott says thickly. And Stiles can’t tell if that’s a statement or a question. He watches the emotions play across his friend’s face, too many and too intense for him to catalogue them all. “He hurt you because of me.”

“What? Hey, no…”

Scott’s eyes swing sharply up to meet his and they’re suspiciously bright. “You’re lying.”

Stiles huffs, dismayed. “You didn’t even let me say anything!”

“Your heartbeat was already off.”

“At least let me come up with one first!”

“He did, then,” Scott persists. “He hurt you because it’d get to me.”

“Well… well, yeah,” Stiles rambles helplessly. “But, y’know, he’s a raging asshole. Even by Argent standards. He gets his rocks off by performing nasty hemicorporectomy procedures - and not having the decency to call it straight up murdering people - and brainwashing his granddaughter and torturing teenagers, so he can’t be expected--” Scott’s expression crumples abruptly, and Stiles’ heart does a terrifying flip. “Oh no. No, come on, Scotty, please.”

“It’s my fault,” he declares miserably. His breath hitches around the words, the telltale beginnings of a sob, and it makes Stiles’ chest wrench painfully, even worse than his bruised ribs. There’s tears gathering at Scott’s lashes, and it’d be almost pretty if it weren’t so awful.

“H-Hey, no way. It’s not like that,” Stiles tries desperately to soothe. It doesn’t seem to help, because the first fat tear escapes, followed by another and another. Stiles’ eyes trace their path, his lungs squeezing tight. “Scott.” He does the only thing he can, and pulls Scott into him. The boy goes willingly, easily, all but molding himself into Stiles’ side.

There’s a moment of horrible silence where Scott holds his breath, trying to suppress the sobs that are already fighting to break free. The drip of hot tears on his bare shoulder has Stiles shivering; he presses his hands to Scott’s back, so utterly unsure about how to help, how to fix this.

“It’s okay,” he attempts helplessly.

Scott is disturbingly quiet for a long while. “I’m sorry,” he whispers once. And then quieter, almost inaudibly. Stiles can feel it better than he can hear it, as it’s pressed into his shoulder over and over again like he’s trying to imprint the words into Stiles’ skin.

“Hey,” he calls gently. “I’m okay. See?” His voice comes out slightly frantic despite himself. “Hey, look at me.” Stiles nudges him until Scott leans back - which is a good thing, because Stiles doesn’t currently have the balance or strength to support both of them. The vulnerable, anguished sheen in his best friend’s eyes is enough to scatter his thoughts. He’s so close, so hurt and so fucking miserable and guilty and all Stiles wants to do is…

No. Not a good idea.

“I’m alright,” is all he manages to come up with. He plasters on a self-deprecating grin and aims for humor when all else fails. “We’ll just call it payback for me dragging you into the Preserve and getting you Bit, right? I get you viciously attacked by a crazy - now zombie - werewolf, the hunter who comes after you for it attacks me. Now we’re even.”

It seems to be the exact wrong thing to say. At the very least, it does the job of getting Scott’s tears to dry up and for him to give Stiles a wet glare instead. “It’s not… It’s not about payback.”

“Sure it is. You don’t have to worry about me getting hurt because I’m the one that started this. It’s my fault you got Bit, Scott. You would’ve been… I dunno, still fighting to make the first line and trying to impress Allison if it wasn’t for me.” Their lives are so fucked up now that the both of them being social nobodies are considered happier times. Three months ago that would have been unthinkable, laughable even.

“It doesn’t work like that!” Scott reprimands, his voice still thick with tears.

Of course it does, Stiles wants to explain. People, if not the universe in general, have always worked like that. Cause and effect work like that. People’s mistakes sometimes cause pain and misfortune. Or sometimes people just hold grudges.

Sometimes the universe punishes you for not being a good enough son, spacey and hyperactive and not observant enough to the things that really matter. Sometimes your mom dies when you wander off for that one moment where the hospital has become too painful and too boring. Sometimes your dad can’t take how bad of a kid you are, and sometimes you’re sure he’s adopted your best friend as the better son.

But none of this… none of this is anything Stiles can form into words. Or wants to.

And Scott, damn him, reads his sullen silence like an old pro. “Do you really think you’re the weak link with us?”

He shrugs uselessly. “Well, y’know. Human. Not even a useful human. At least Allison is trained to fight. Even… even if she wasn’t really on our side at the end this time.”

“You’re not useless,” Scott insists. His brow furrows stubbornly when Stiles’ frown only deepens. “I would’ve died so many times if it wasn’t for you. I never would’ve made it to getting Bitten if I didn’t have you.” He says it so earnestly, without even the barest trace doubt in his voice. And Stiles can’t help the little tendril of warmth that curls around his heart.

“Aw, geez,” he huffs.

“It’s true.”

“Just… let’s just shut up and go to bed okay? It’s getting hard to keep standing.” He’s not above using his (minor! Totally minor!) injuries to get his best friend to stop that line of thought.

Predictably, the blossoming affection on Scott’s face slips away into worry. Just like that his hands are on Stiles’ arms again. “Right! God, I’m sorry, Stiles. Here.”

Stiles rolls his eyes as he’s led to bed. But his protests are just met with tutting and gentle hands supporting him as he kicks out of his pants and climbs into his bed at a glacial pace. Scott even tugs his socks off to keep him from twisting painfully and pulls the covers up over him.

“You’re the best, dude,” Stiles sighs happily, patting the space beside him.

Scott snorts quietly - like he doesn’t believe it. What a hypocrite, giving Stiles The Eyes when he can’t even take a compliment himself. He does his best not to watch as Scott tugs his shirt over his head; to not let his eyes trace the rippling lines of muscle that hadn’t been there just last year. He picks at the blanket, resolutely Not Looking. (If he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to confront the increasingly apparent notion that he is really, really Not Straight.) The last thing Stiles needs on top of everything else is to make this awkward.

It still doesn’t stop him from sliding into Scott’s space once the other boy climbs into bed with him. Because now this is familiar. Lying curled up facing Scott, close enough to whisper and smother laughter into the pillows long into the night is something he’s done since pre-school. Scott’s never voiced any worries about it being “weird” yet, and Stiles isn’t about to ask.

The bone-deep exhaustion takes hold once they’ve settled. The adrenaline has long since drained from Stiles, and even the anxiety isn’t going to keep him awake for long. He wonders, briefly, if Scott is even capable of being exhausted now. Does his new healing keep him alert and painless? Or does he still feel the aches and pulls even after his wounds heal? Does he have the ghosts of catastrophic injuries even after the skin and muscle and bone has knitted back together?

The syrupy, weightless feeling is back. Stiles blinks open his eyes, and finds Scott watching him, his hand resting gently on Stiles’ outstretched arm. “Quit,” he admonishes.

“You’re in pain, though.”

“And now you are, and that doesn’t make me feel better. Okay?” He shifts his arm, grasping Scott’s hand. But he thinks better of pushing it away when the black streaking veins fade back into his friend’s smooth skin. “I’ll let you take a little in the morning. If I’m having trouble.”

“Okay.”

The silence is kinder this time as it settles around them.

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

Scott sniffles. “I’m sorry I never told you about the plan.”

He sighs. “I forgive you, dude.” He does, even if it still hurts. “I would’ve helped, y’know?”

“I know. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. But you did anyway.”

“Yeah, I did. But I got hurt because Gerard was a gigantic fuckwad and not because of anything you did.”

Scott clearly ignores his attempt at placing the blame (where the blame belongs), because his frown becomes determined. “It’s not going to be like this next time.”

Stiles lifts his head off the pillow slightly. “Hm?”

He’s still holding Scott’s hand, and Scott doesn’t seem to want to let go. “I haven’t been… the best person, since all of this. I haven’t been the best student, or the best son, and not the best friend either.”

“Hey, no--”

“I want to be better,” Scott steamrolls on, as if Stiles hasn’t even opened his mouth. “I know I can be better. I can work harder, and learn more. I’ve got all this new power but… but the only thing I’ve been using it for is playing lacrosse and trying not to die.”

“We’ve all been trying not to die, man,” Stiles urges.

“I know. But I… I want to be better. If this is supposed to be a gift, then I need to start making it one.” Scott’s eyes are far off, even as he absently plays with the pads of Stiles’ fingers. Stiles has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep still, to keep from drawing attention to it. “I’m sick of feeling like this is a curse. And it’s not gonna change unless I change it.”

“You don’t need to be ‘better,’” Stiles defends. “You’re already better than anyone I know.”

But Scott isn’t convinced. Stiles isn’t even sure Scott has heard him. His eyes are far away, and Stiles can’t suppress the swell of petty distaste - not directed at Scott, exactly. ‘I’m right here,’ he thinks. ‘Look at me. Listen.’

Scott hasn’t been “here” for months, even though he’s never left Stiles’ side. And Stiles…

Fuck, he’d give anything to have that boy back, the one who wasn’t burdened by murder and invasion and the lives of everyone he knows.

Because Stiles could help that boy - the boy with the normal teenage problems like lack of popularity and finding a girlfriend. This… Stiles can only hang on and hope Scott doesn’t realize he has no idea what he’s doing.

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

The breathing of the boys inside slows and deepens, but it doesn’t make Derek feel any better. He sits on the Stilinski rooftop, tucking his leather jacket around him to fight off the early spring chill, and shrinks away from view. The last thing he needs tonight is for the Sheriff to find out he’s up here - another disappointment to the man in a long string of them.

After everything, and maybe even despite everything, Derek had to know that Scott and Stiles made it home unharmed. (Or not any more harmed, in Stiles’ case.) He’d directed Boyd, Erica, and Isaac to the B&B for the night, and had backtracked all the way to the Stilinski house instead of joining them. He’d just wanted to check on them. But what he’d found hadn’t made the sick feeling deep in his belly go away at all.

“I want to be better,” Scott had said.

“I know I can be better,” he’d said.

“I’ve got all this power, but all I use it for is trying not to die,” he’d said.

“The only thing you cared about was how quickly you could make this go away,” he’d said, back in the warehouse, his eyes flickering a defiant Beta gold. “You didn’t care who had to die for it.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t belong, Derek. You’re the only piece that doesn’t fit,” Gerard had sneered as Scott held his head back, forcing him to bare his throat, eventually - Derek had been so sure at the time - for a blade.

He feels sick all over again, and leaps down off the roof. He sets off at a run, desperate to feel the burn in his lungs and the pull in his muscles, anything to drown out his circling thoughts. Derek is halfway to Celina and Eliza’s before the coherent thought surfaces:

He’s nothing like his mother. Or Laura.

He has none of the traits he so admired in them as Alphas. His mother had been a shining beacon for so many people, both magical and mundane alike. Both the people of the town and Packs across the country looked to her for guidance. She’d embodied everything Derek thought an alpha should be: kind and steadfast; firm when it was needed; open and loving to her Pack. Brave and strong as the hardest steel towards threats, but never seeking violence. And Laura, who’d become his Alpha in the aftermath of fire and death that had ripped their world apart, had done everything she could to be the Alpha they both needed. She may not have been their mother, but Laura had all the traits and abilities that a good Alpha was supposed to embody.

And Derek… Derek has none of that. The only thing he’s done is swing wildly between one life-or-death situation and the next, scrambling just to keep his head above water let alone keeping his own Betas alive.

They deserve more than that. They deserve more than a fuckup of an Alpha. The memories of his mother and sister, and his whole Pack, deserve more than that.

They deserve better than what Derek has given them up until now.

How he could possibly begin to fix that, though, is another question entirely. And not one he has the energy to dwell on tonight.

He absently pats the garden gate as he nears the Marcella’s Bed & Breakfast, not in the least bit surprised when it seems to swing open of its own accord. The moment Derek steps foot inside the property line, a wave of soothing warmth rushes over him, like easing into a soft bed or a hot bath at the end of the day. “Hi,” he sighs under his breath.

The lilac bushes near the veranda rustle in answer. They’re going to bloom soon, the flower clusters fat and already fragrant to Derek’s nose. The air smells of spring, of earth and growth and comfort, perhaps even more so inside the property line due to the house’s strange magic.

The door eases open as he’s climbing the front stairs, but not because of any supernatural force this time. Eliza’s soft eyes sparkle at him from just beyond the doorway, Celina standing mere steps behind. He takes one look at their solemn faces and flinches despite himself. “I’m sorry for not calling ahead about Isaac, Boyd, and Erica,” he says guiltily.

Celina waves his apology away. “Your Betas are asleep upstairs. We put them in the family suite near your room.”

“They fought sleeping while you were still out,” Eliza adds gently, “but the house took care of that.”

“It can do that?” Derek asks, giving the seemingly benign house a dubious look.

“Not in so many words.” Eliza pats the door frame, beckoning Derek inside. “It only does a remarkable job at making people feel safe within its walls.” That, at least, is a feeling Derek recognizes. Almost immediately so as the door closes behind him. The old Victorian house is soothing in a way no house has been since his family’s home had been destroyed.

“Here, let us have a look at you,” Celina urges brusquely. She steps into Derek’s space without a thought, hands cupping his face so she can get a good look into his eyes. The unwavering touch shocks him, his whole body jerking, but not necessarily away from her. Her hands are warm and soft.

The last person that had touched him with such gentleness had been Laura. The realization makes his throat grow tight. Everything since then had been violent or nauseatingly sexual. Not even Scott or Stiles have ever touched him outside of force or desperation - dragging his injured or barely conscious body around not because they’d like to, but because they had to. Or like what happened tonight--

Derek shuts his eyes against the thought.

“Can you feel him?” Celina asks gravely. “Argent?”

He sighs. “Not yet.” He doesn’t ask how she knows about what happened tonight. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Well, if we are lucky that means it didn’t take. Even if Scott’s little trick doesn’t kill him.”

‘How much do you know? Were you in on it too?’ The questions are on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t voice them. Derek can’t take another blow like that tonight. “Scott wouldn’t do that,” he answers instead.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Eliza agrees.

“But he’s not going to have to,” Celina adds pointedly. She smoothes down Derek’s lapels, a gesture so motherly that his heart aches.

Derek blinks at them. “What do you mean?” Celina doesn’t answer, but her smile is sharp as she steps back.

Eliza takes his arm, guiding him towards the stairs. “We’ve offered our aid to Doctor Deaton, in ensuring that Gerard Argent is no longer a threat,” she says sweetly.

“You--” Derek lets out an incredulous breath. “You’re going to hunt him down. With Deaton.”

“Oh yes. Alan’s given the typical speech about the balance being threatened, but I feel he’s doing it for the same reason as Celina and I.”

“And that would be?” Irritation and exhaustion gives his voice an edge. He doesn’t mean to be rude, not to them, but he’s just had enough tonight.

“On top of being a reprehensible abomination of a man,” Eliza explains patiently, “he’s gone and threatened those we love.” She squeezes his arm, her smile sweet and knowing, and somehow just a touch wicked. “And we can’t have that.”

It’s not fear, but guilt that immediately swamps Derek. Of course, they would know about what happened to Stiles. Of course, they’d know that the Sheriff had been attacked at the station. Of course, they’d know that Gerard had threatened Scott.

Surely, they’d also know that was just as much Derek’s fault as Gerard’s.

The apology stalls at his lips, just long enough for Celina to scoff. “She means you too, silly boy.”

Derek stares at her, and then at Eliza, who nods reassuringly at him. His lips part, but no words will come out. He can’t even begin to quantify the curious mix of emotions rising in his chest, making this throat grow tight. For a moment, his eyes burn, but he blinks it away and swallows down the swell of emotion. “I… Really?”

There’s a sad understanding to Celina’s smile. For what, Derek can’t fathom. He can’t even understand what’s transpiring in himself, let alone between them. “Of course, dear,” she soothes.

He sucks in a shaking breath. “Thank you.”

They accept his gratitude with soft smiles, and usher him up to bed.

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

Next: Side A, Ch7

A week goes by. The town goes quiet. Jackson Whittemore is not, in fact, declared dead. His father sues the hospital for malpractice. The EMTs who declared him dead in the first place are nowhere to be found. Stiles is taken to the hospital and his injuries checked over - bruised ribs are the worst of them, the rest are deep bruises that they’re instructed to watch carefully. Stiles gives his infuriatingly generic statement.

Another week passes. The string of murders goes quiet. The mystery of who attacked his son is a cold case even before it starts.

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

END CHAPTER 5.

#McHaleinski #ScottDerekStiles #Teen Wolf #fanfic #series: My Head is an Animal #fic: Side B #Let me weave you a Dream

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seven-oomen · 4 years ago

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So today’s moments of random thoughts (and attempts at including links) are brought to you by the fact that today they replaced the back office computer at work that controls the store’s music, so it was uncomfortably silent for several hours, meaning that my brain suddenly had to provide the soundtrack again, and that’s always a total craps shoot. Will it be 48 hours straight of “Toss A Coin To Your Witcher”? Will it be some surreal all day medley of AC/DC, Rihanna, and the South Park version of “Pokerface”? Will it be a non-stop Disney sing-a-long? Who knows? Everyday is an adventure with an ADD brain jukebox.

One of today’s tracks of choice was “Little Red Riding Hood” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, a favorite since long before I was old enough to understand the implications or subtext. And since you enjoyed the last terrible porn scenario so much, why not throw out another classic? Because there is NO WAY they haven’t done this one. Like. Just no way. Oh no, will the brave and daring young hunter woodsman manage to subdue the wily Alpha wolf, or will poor innocent Omega Riding Hood be devoured by the lustful lupine? (I think the only correct answer here is yes to both.) And because part of me wondered if such a thing even existed (I just had to know if I could bring in the plaid), I searched Google and found this (for a more casual approach) or this (for if they’re feeling fancy) for Noah, preferably paired with some tall black combat boots, perhaps (also, just saying, both would be a great option for a chase night). For “Grandma”, I was thinking something along these lines (theoretically demure, yet also highlighting the collar bones, especially if unbuttoned slightly and allowed to slide off one shoulder. Perhaps in the blue to bring out his eyes. XD ) because it comes across innocent in all the ways Peter would very much not be at that point. All Chris would really need is his tightest jeans, deepest v’d henley, and maybe a nice denim or suede trucker jacket. (Have I spent WAY too much time thinking about this? Probably, but in my defense it kept me from snapping at all the idiots out without masks who refused to properly distance. So.) And because why the hell, not, I haven’t confused my Google search enough yet, here’s a couple of options for Chris that are a little more classy, as far as such a thing can apply to an outfit like this. I mean if the other two are getting nice, quality outfits in that scenario, dammit he deserves the same.

Oh, and to briefly segue it back towards the more serious (and god, I really hope this comes out the way I mean it to, I am legit terrible at trying to word stuff like this), I would just like to say that frankly this version of how the physical/biological/however you want to phrase it aspects of the male/female vs alpha/omega spectrums play out makes so much more sense than a majority of the a/b/o I’ve seen. I may not read it often, but I’ve been in fandom too long (and in a few too many small ones) not to have read a fair amount. There have been a number of times where I just end up going “…his body has/did what now?…" Whereas with yours it’s just like "oh, cool, that makes total sense”. It’s natural, logical, and easy to understand, unlike my first few experiences back in the day when I kept having to Google the whole Omegaverse concept (a TERRIBLE idea, btw) to try and figure out how things worked. So, yeah, I, at least, am a fan of this variation/interpretation/whatever.

Anyway…having hopefully managed to avoid cramming my whole entire foot into my mouth, would you care for some more assorted headcanons? Maybe one day Stiles and Noah are in the attic working on sorting and organizing some things (Stiles is about 14 or 15 at this point), and after going through a couple boxes of Claudia’s sketchbooks, he finds one that contains a few mangled pairs of fishnets, a mesh shirt or two, maybe a pair of extremely short black cutoffs, some studded bracelets and collars, and he’s just like “man, Mom was a little more hardcore than I would have guessed." After a couple moments of pointed silence, Noah finally offers ”…that’s not your Mom’s stuff, Stiles" while very determinedly not looking his son’s direction. Cue a hysterical sequence of microexpressions of shock and horror contorting Stiles’ face, culminating in a brief full body flail and ending with him shaking his head with all the intense desperation of someone trying to clear an Etch-A-Sketch, before he just quietly goes back to sorting through the other boxes and they just never speak of it again. Alternately, I would accept this same scenario for Chris and Allison (thinking the box had belonged to Kate), because I feel she would have the next best reaction faces to Stiles (less grimacing, but more internal screaming), with basically the same end result. Or perhaps both had an incident like this, and they use it as some sort of bonding moment. They’re an odd family after all.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that the preview changed again. Just going straight for the feels this time, huh? God, poor Peter. I feel so bad that he’s missing out on all the cuddles (familial and romantic), but I’m sure they’ll all be more than willing to make it up to him later. Really hope he was doing that super speed thing on the way back to the hospital, or the Sheriff’s station might get some strange reports of a naked man running through neighborhoods.

On the subject of the kids and education, I would vote BioChem for Allison. It would be useful in learning about all the stuff hunters use, and figuring out ways to combat them, as well as potentially offering some overlap with Lydia’s degree.

I’d vote Criminal Law for Jackson. It would be both a nod to his adoptive dad in the show having been the D.A. and offer a connection to the traditions of the family he’s just now learning about. And I suspect that it’s entirely possible that if Stiles went after a Criminal Justice degree (or similar, I’m not entirely sure what it would be called), they’d likely have some overlapping classes, which would just piss Stiles all the hell off. So win-win, really.

I think Malia could do really well with either type of Engineering. I want to lean more towards Mechanical, particularly for the auto repair aspect, but part of me really wants Electrical for the Ant-Man connection (speaking of high Intelligence, low Wisdom…) I think she would hate it while she was getting the degree (WHY DID NO ONE WARN ME THERE’D BE SO MUCH MATH???!!!), she’d be so proud once she’d graduated. I feel like I could see Derek partnering with her on the shop (he’s working on a Master’s in Business. Anything Law just felt too close to what he’d lost, but he also couldn’t bear to stray too far. So, business. Eventually I think he’d join in with the artsy side of the family and go after a degree in Design, so he could help build up the shop that way, as well.)

Totally agree on the other two. I can also totally see Kira and Malia coaching some sort of intramural sport for kids one day. Soccer (football), Little League, Lacrosse, doesn’t matter which. They absolutely love it, and the kids love them (they totally get the smaller Pack kids involved, too). Eventually they talk Isaac into creating a team for some of his kids that are looking to socialize more (they make sure that the experience is 100% positive for any of them that play. They refuse to tolerate any bullying or poor sportsmanship of any kind.)

Hmm…not sure about the others, either, but I like the idea of Boyd ending up as a professor of Mythology and Folklore. He was the one that actually thought about whether he wanted the bite, and whether it would be worth it in the long run. He seemed the most interested in the reality of being a werewolf. I can see him learning as much as he can about the supernatural from Peter and Noah (and some of the other side of things from Chris), and utilizing that in getting his degree (and eventual Doctorate). And let’s face it, after dealing with the Pack’s shenanigans over the years, college kids aren’t intimidating in the slightest.

And before I forget, may I just say that “People buy it because it’s Tumblr, why wouldn’t two gay dads run a wolf rescue?” had me laughing so hard I started snorting. Moving on; I know you recently shared a post that featured shots from the episode where Stiles gets his dad drunk to distract him from reopening the Hale case (I have Opinions about that black shirt, and how disappointed I was that it Never Showed Up Again, so I notice when it pops up in Tumblrs I check, okay? Don’t judge me.), and some of the other blogs I try to keep up with have shared some pics of J.R. in glasses, and now I can’t help but wonder if that becomes like a Thing for Peter at some point. Like, once they start to get a little older (once Chris has grown out his beard again, and maybe Noah has retired [my uncle was a cop and retired in like his mid-forties, I think] and started letting his hair get just a bit shaggy again) and his husbands start occasionally wearing glasses for reading, or fine detail work, etc. (I would not judge him if it did, because, uh…, hard same. I blame too many years of anime.) Like, they slip them on and his brain just immediately starts going to more terrible porn scenarios. Stern librarian, called to the principal/headmaster’s office, courtroom shenanigans. Actually, if Peter is supposed to have been a lawyer they probably do that one anyway. The Prosecution and the Defense take turns attempting to sway the Judge/Jury Foreman in their favor. Who is who just depends on their mood at the time, and who feels willing to put on a suit (god help Peter if he gets both his mates in well cut suits and at their persuasive best. He can barely keep it together long enough to stay halfway in character. They are fully aware of their power, and file the information away for use in anniversary/graduation/other celebratory settings.) Wow…that kinda got away from me. Again.

Anyway, I tried to do the reader poll thing, hope my responses went through/made sense. Hope the assorted links I’ve attempted work, I’ve never tried adding them to something before. I probably still have the tabs open if I need to try again, unless my computer randomly decides to close them, which I have had it occasionally do. Glad that you are feeling somewhat better, and that it doesn’t appear to be anything serious (and possibly even somewhat positive, in the long run, at least? If it’s a sign of things trying to heal?) Sorry in advance if some of this makes assisting customers difficult tomorrow. XD I feel like it should just be implicit, like my brain just compels it’s own warning in general.

I think I’ve read through this at least ten times because it’s just so good. I don’t really have the energy to reply to everything, but I do want to leave you with some headcanons of my own.

Mainly Hogwarts houses:

Ravenclaw: Lydia, Melissa, Natalie, Julio, Stiles

Gryffindor: Noah, Derek, Kira, Allison, Boyd

Hufflepuff: Scott, Chris, Jordan, Ben, Isaac

Slytherin: Malia, Jackson, Peter, Danny, Erica

Ben’s super cute playfulness as a wolf pup

Peter definitely wears a pair of wolf ears during sex, although he’s a little sad that he can’t mark up Chris and Noah as he used to. He liked to bite hard and draw blood, but with him as an Alpha, that’s just not an option anymore. Although there are plenty of other ways he can mark them up and he enjoys finding new ways. Even if they’re not as visual and permanent.

Peter also makes time for each of his kids and enjoys being a father. He revels in the role and loves reading bedtime stories to his younger kids, PTA meetings (he rises to the top of the rank really quickly, starts a turf war with a Karen but gets backed up by Mack’s mom. So it’s all cool.) And With his older kids he finds new ways to guide them through life as young adults. He’s there for every homework assignment, every break-up, every report card, and all the little moments he’s had to miss out on.

Also when Noah is pregnant, he’s closely monitored by Melissa and his licensed midwife. (He’s given birth to Malia and Stiles at home, he’s planning to do it again. Chris too, only has had homebirths, although Ben had to be rushed to the hospital because the doofus swallowed amniotic fluid during birth and turned blue after ten minutes. (Which is based on a true story, my brother had that complication after homebirth. Homebirths are very common in my country which is why I put them in my fics.)) And Peter and Chris go into protective overdrive. He keeps working for as long as he can but at four months pregnant with twins, he has to take a step back and only work desk duty until he’s 7.5 months along. He takes some time off after that and gets time to recuperate and rest.

Chris for his last pregnancy also chooses to have a homebirth, Julio comes to work for him to do his arms deals and meetups while Chris takes a step back and works from his office until the day he goes into labor. And even then he’s still trying to get this deal done while breathing through contractions.

Also, imagine Peter getting to experience both of his mates being pregnant again. I like to imagine the smile on his face when he hears the heartbeats for the first time, how he just knows when his mates are pregnant, he recognizes the scent change now. He knows Chris is pregnant before Chris does. With Noah it’s a bit more of a tie since Noah can pick up the twins’ energy signatures and heartbeat at 4-5 weeks. Which is when the scent change happens.

I imagine the three of them curled up together after the youngest has been born, all tuckered out and completely passed out. The new baby curled up in the cosleeper next to the bed. Malia sneaks in without waking her dad and starts snapping pictures for the family album. And at one point during the night, Ben and the youngest twins end up sleeping in their parents’ bed as well. It becomes a routine until Ben is ten and generally likes to sleep alone. (Unless he’s upset, then he comes running.)

Also, the mere image of Chris wearing glasses and Noah wearing his police sunglasses (or regular glasses), like yes, sign me up. Also, Peter shows solidarity and starts wearing glasses later in life too. Which doesn’t only do wonders for their sex life (though that was never bad, to begin with) but also every single parent at Ben’s high school and the twins’ elementary school suddenly have the hots for the three extremely hot dilfs.

It also helps with getting justice for Ben when his son is being bullied at school and Chris has to convince Peter not to kill anyone, Noah shows off the sheriff’s badge and starts suggesting a few things, and Chris likes to remind people that his son (Jackson) is now the youngest DA in the country and works from Beacon Hills and his other son (Stiles) is now an FBI agent who certainly wouldn’t mind digging into the past of whoever is bullying his little brother. (Not that he ever has to get that far, usually he smiles warmly and charms the principal or the teacher with his trademark smile and within a day Ben’s bullies are disciplined by the school.)

I have no idea where I’m going anymore as I’m pretty tired at this point. But these were stuck in my head and I had to share.

(Once again, I adore every single headcanon you’ve send me. <3)

#ben says stuff #once upon a time comments #submission

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alhorner · 7 years ago

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How Alicia Keys arrived Here – cover feature and short film

Every day is a near-death experience in Alicia Keys’ “dark, desolate, beautiful” New York. It was in an elementary school car park that the revelation struck. “I’d just dropped my son off for class this one time, and I read the illest article. So, the average American lives 76 years. But break that down to days, and that’s only 28,000 days on this earth,” she grins, slowing those last few words to a crawl for impact. 76 years sounds like an eternity. 28,000 days? That seems far more fleeting. “Time, man,” she laughs. “Time is not to be fucked with.”

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This epiphany lit a fire within the R&B icon, who wrote a song about it, presumed by many to be the first single from and blueprint for her upcoming sixth studio album. Instead, the fiery, danceable gospel of Here, released this week, is as much fueled by fury at the thought of those never given a chance to make it to that number – the men, women and children not allowed anywhere near 28,000 days on this earth. From soulful single ‘Hallelujah’, about the refugee crisis in Syria, to tracks informed by war, police brutality and the “school-to-prison pipeline” for young black males, it’s a record on which Alicia, for the first time, feels “ready to speak on what’s happening” in a divided election-time America and beyond. There’s happiness, hope and healing on Here too. But make no mistake – this is an infectiously fired-up Alicia Keys unlike we’ve seen before, whose frustration at the systems ending lives before they really begin can no longer be contained.

“My sister asked me if I was ready to be the Nina I was born to be, the Bob I was born to be, the Lennon I was born to be. Because the time is now. We’re living through it. The world is fucked up,” she says, her voice crackling with anger. “It’s backwards, and it’s getting more backwards, blatantly backwards, than I think it’s ever been before. But it’s actually a good thing I think, in a strange way.” Until recently “the world and especially America did a really good job at covering up and hiding” the kind of racism currently living out in the open, she suggests. “But now that the veil is gone, there’s no hiding anymore. We can actually attack it.”

Keys may talk up this new release as coinciding with something of a personal political awakening. But dig beneath the tabloid headlines – her marriage to rap producer Swizz Beatz, her Nietzsche-referencing speech at the launch of Tidal in 2014, and most recently, her public decision to stop wearing makeup – and she’s always appeared awake to the horrors of the world. The 35-year-old spent her son's sixth birthday in 2014 outside the Nigerian consulate in New York, protesting the Boko Haram kidnappings in Nigeria. Last year, she raised $3.8m for AIDS awareness in one night at her 12th annual Black Ball in Manhattan. In 2008 she was hailed by black rights groups for telling an interviewer that Tupac and Notorious BIG were "essentially assassinated, their beefs stoked by the government and the media, to stop another great black leader from existing”, though she later claimed the comments had been misinterpreted. For someone so plugged in to and outspoken about human rights issues, Here is the first time that hunger for change has spilled explicitly out into her music, on an album that doubles up as a return to her hip-hop-infused New York roots. She says it collects the sounds, stories, struggles and sunshine of a place she likens to “an electric painting... this explosion of people, accents, sounds and smells of people the cooking in the street. Those dudes with the pretzels! Oh man, I love the pretzels.”

“There’s a kind of magic here,” Keys explains of her hometown, on a relatively quiet Thursday afternoon. It’s the sixth anniversary of her wedding to Swizz Beatz this weekend, and after our interview she’s away on a “kinda romantic getaway,” she blushes. Swizz is one of the “perfect team” around her who worked on Here, which she describes as “this collision of sounds that’s about to start the illest conversations.” Though she’s hesitant to discuss exact artists she looked to when shaping its sound, she calls it “diverse…. like a thunderbolt struck it.”

Here – geographically speaking – has pretty much always been New York for Keys. The daughter of a powerhouse Italian-Irish mother, Terri Augello, and absent flight attendant father, Craig Cook, she grew up in Hell’s Kitchen, in an apartment on 43rd and 10th. Inspired by her dynamo mother, a legal aid and actor, she threw herself into her studies at a performing arts school after writing her first song aged 13 about the death of her grandfather. By 21, she’d sold 12 million copies of her debut album Songs In A Minor. By 22, she had five Grammys to her name. By 24, her Diary of Alicia Keys album had become the sixth biggest-selling album by a female artist of all time. 15 years later, a decade and a half since the heart-melting piano waltz of ‘Fallin’ first rung out on radios, she remains one of the biggest and most influential names in pop, called on by Barack Obama to perform at his second Presidential inauguration and now with 35 million album sales behind her.

Though her success has taken her all over the world, Keys insists that spiritually she’s never strayed far from her roots. She still lives in Hell’s Kitchen, where her children attend piano lessons at the same school that she learned to play at. “It’s kind of crazy every time I walk in. On one hand it’s a community and I feel very protected. On the other, I feel like I’m trapped in the Twilight Zone, all those memories,” she laughs. It’s a very different place now to the one she grew up in though, the slow-creep of gentrification having turned a neighbourhood that she once used to carry a pocket knife around in for protection into a safer space. “It was totally the place for the most disenfranchised,” remembers Keys. “It was pornography and X-rated stores, pimps and prostitutes, needles and drugs but also Broadway and theatre and promise and possibility and dreams and broken dreams. That definitely reflects in my music, now and forever.”

25 people were killed by police in New York last year, seven of which were unarmed black males. Last night, Keys was in Philadelphia, where she dedicated a performance at the Democratic National Convention to the Mothers Of The Movement – a group including the mothers of black police brutality victims Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis and New Yorker Eric Garner. “It’s outrageous and devastating to me as a mother,” she says of the long-lasting epidemic of police violence towards POC that saw a total 1,134 black men killed by US law officials in 2015. “America can we see it’s out of control. The whole world can see it’s out of control. You’ve gotta be blind to not see it’s out of control. I have babies. Those were someone’s babies too. Those babies went outside and were killed and now they’re never gonna come back. Why? Because they’re black? Because they’re doing nothing but wearing a hoodie or reaching for their wallet?”

Learning to not be afraid to embrace your individuality is one of the key themes of Here, says Alicia. “I think a lot about my son. So what if my son wants to paint his own fingernails? So what. What do we do to our boys when we say ‘don’t cry! Boys don’t cry. Hold it in, man up, toughen up?’” That lesson about individualism extends to female body image, too. “Some of us wear business suits and have tough faces and wrinkles that speak to years of struggle and pain and strife to be recognised and appreciated. Then some of us are so glorious and big with our beautiful booties so huge, swaying in the summer sun,” she beams. “We’re so unbashful and glad to be ourselves and different from everyone else.” There’s a pause, and she smiles. “That’s a beautiful thing.”

Here arrives four years after Keys’ last album, 2012’s Girl On Fire, but “not reeeeeally four years,” she says playfully, nodding to her newborn baby Genesis. “You put out a record, then you promo a tour a record, and that itself it a two year process. So by the time you go back and actually engage in the process of what you’re going to build next, that’s another year, you’re up to three. Oh and throw a baby into the mix? Pshhh, there goes four!” Alicia wrote over 100 songs for Here, which she says is “so many things. A dialogue, a conversation about who we are. What are we living through? What are the stereotypes we’re battling to break out of?”

“I’m ready right now, I’m in my zone right now. I’m accessing a part of myself I’ve never been ready to access before,” she adds confidently. “I want people to find themselves to it, relate to it, identify with it, feel feel it, get lost to it, cry to it, laugh to it, dance to it, pray to it, grow to it… If you feel it, and if you lived it, and if you believed it, and you gotta say it because you can’t hold it back, then that’s soul music, you know what I mean?” You only get 28,000 days on earth, and that’s if you’re lucky. Alicia Keys is using hers wisely.

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nicksstoryvault · 8 years ago

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The scent of rainwater touching Bucky's nostrils calmed his restless soul as he slowly prowled across the grassy path. The forests were dimmed by the canopy of leaves, blotting out the rising sun. Dawn was approaching, and the wolf tirelessly trekked through the maze of thick trees, bushes and logs that were in his way. He had left his den almost an hour ago, his sleeping pups cuddled within the warm assurance of a blanket which carried his scent. He wouldn't have dared to leave them alone had he not managed to successfully camouflage the entrance to the cage; ensuring no one could get in or discover it. Even still, the further his trek took him from his den the more anxious he felt with anticipation. The change in scenery had begun to appear more noticeable from the great divide of a river stream, to a rock outcropping that led to the high-cliffs of the valley. This was the farthest he and the other wolves of the forest would ever venture out because once they crossed the flowing stream, they would be in bear territory. Which was the exact place Bucky planned to go. The mountain bears were by far the most lethal and fearsome predators in the valley, led by the b*** he knew as Brock Rumlow. Though the direwolf would have preferred that he and Rumlow just stay the hell out of each other's way, the vicious bear had taken someone from him. The one feline who held the other half of his heart and was the mother of his children. Each day that went felt like a hole was being dug deeper into his being, carving an abyss that would have sure fallen into were it not for his children. After an insufferable night where he had another nightmare about losing Selina, Bucky had decided enough was enough. He was gonna get his darlin' back today, and he wouldn't let anyone stop him. "Where are you, Selina?" The wolf jumps onto a rock in the open. Raising his muzzle, he sniffs into the air, searching for the familiar scent of lavender with a hint of cinnamon. "C'mon. I know you're out here," his luminous blue eyes glare as he searches, willing his senses not to fail him as moves around. It isn't until he reaches the tree-line does he catch a whiff of the familiar scent. It was close—very close that he could almost taste it. His jaw parts with a panting tongue, his tail nearly wags in anticipation. "I'm coming, Selina." The wolf takes off at top-speed towards the rock-wall in the distance.

Feeling the humid rush of air caressing over her silken ebony fur, Selina purred out a contented rumble, still sluggish against the assailing throb generating from her vacant womb; every muscle was stiff and the scent of fresh milk wafted inside her isolated domain high above the valley. Her sanctuary away from the merciless clutches of her sadistic master. Remnants of blood still traced over her retractable claws, evidence that her recent mission was a macabre success. A red mist always hung over her, enthralling her to uncage the voracious spirit of the panther--the feline assassin who stalked the shadows of the forest, killing at the command of the mountain bear's relentless bloodlust. All she existed as in the eyes of Rumlow, was a cold and elegant shadow of death and elemental beauty, condemned to execute --to unleash her brutal power until red smeared her muzzle. There was no escape from his legion of ravens, so when the time came to search for an isolated domain where those damn birds couldn't follow her tracks, she claimed a small cave in the mountain pass, near her strike zone where she delivered a new dawn of hope. Nestled against her swollen girth was a tiny precious bundle of dark chestnut with streaks of silver that resembled her beautiful soldier's metallic arm--a little cub that became her redeeming light. Warmth spread through her, a euphoric inrush surging into every fiber of her feline body. Suddenly, as if a prayer was answered, the panther caught a distinctive and calming scent pervading in the air, a heady masculine aura that was intoxicating as frosted mint. She lifted her up and steered her harvest moon shaded orbs to the entrance of her cave. Bucky had come. "Dzheyms...James," she called out his Russian name, imploring the young alpha to advance inside. "I'm in here, handsome."

Bucky knew he shouldn't have felt surprise that she detected his presence. Her sense of smell was as potent as his own, even with the super-soldier serum inside of him. Selina was a natural feline, her nature was always a constant, the cat within always her spirit animal. As he slowly makes his way through the narrow entrance to the cave, he couldn't help but be slightly fascinated by the clean interior. The rock wasn't jagged and filled with soil. If anything, it was probably carved once by human hands and used as a hide-out. Her scent guiding him deeper into the hollowed interior, he was astonished to see small rays of sunlight beaming through clefts in the rock above. The cave was fairly lit that he was able to see her well near the center of the room. She looked so serene and dangerously beautiful in her solitary space. "Cozy place you got here, darlin'. Looks like you lucked out as far nicer caves go." He says with a soft pitch, wanting to diminish any sort of tension that might've come with his sudden visit. The further he made his way in, there was a curious smell he couldn't quite place that reminded him of rose petals with a hint of vanilla.

Remaining guarded within her predatory essence, Selina arched her brows coolly, veered her moonlit gaze at the massive dire wolf, contrasts of sunlight gleamed over his cinder and brunette fur, outlining the shape of his powerfully built canine form, as he cemented his large paws under the edge of the shadow, keeping his distance. She instantly noticed that chubbiness around his belly, and if she were to guess, he was still nursing. A devilish smirk played over her whiskered muzzle, as she effortlessly delivered a snarky quip to dominate the moment between them. "You're getting fat again, Barnes, those furballs midnight snacking or are you, handsome?"

The wolf snorted at that, a deep ragged breath brushing through his nostrils that blew up dust. "Hey, you try feeding so many greedy mouths, and see how hungry you get," he jabs almost defensively, though the light twinkle in his luminous eyes revealed his good-tilted humor. Somehow though, her snarky comment awoke feelings of heaviness and sloth. The toll of the long journey he took to find this cave—to find her—had begun to wear on him as his muscles began to ache. He refrained from dropping down to the ground as if he were back in his own den-site. Though Selina was in fact the woman he loved, she was also a black jaguar that had raw primal instincts of her own, such as being territorial. Taking in the environment once again, Bucky couldn't help but feel curious about something. What was she doing in here? The mountain bears were still a good mile away, and Rumlow always kept Selina close enough to be observed. The thought was inciteful as it was curious. "You know why I'm here, Selina." He says to her, knowing full well that it was best to be direct with his approach. "But I don't understand, what are you doing so far out here? Did Rumlow do something?" He growls with a touch of malice in his tone. Settling his steel-blue eyes onto Selina, the wolf took in her scent once again for any indicators as to her mood. Her emotions wafted into the air in a myriad of smells; exhaustion, relief, joy…trepidation. These combination of scents weren't something he often found when it came to her.

The panther engaged his challenging and yet guarded stare in deathlock, in the world of nature they were arch rivals in reflection, lethal assassins of the forest who loomed as symbols of menace and shadow. Blood was the essence of victory and survival. Every day became a relentless struggle not to accept the savage instincts of the wolf and cat, Selina knew if she did, there was no turning back. She would only see Bucky as her target in the crosshairs of moonlight, instead of her beloved soldier. That nightmarish reality terrified her, but she had a glimpse of hope to obstruct that indefinite existence. Purring deeply with an imploring sway of her long tail, she openly welcomed Bucky into her domain, as she became lost in depth of his luminous eyes of frosty blue and hardened steel. Right there, the feline huntress knew she had found her love. It was safe to reveal her secret to him. "I have someone here who wants to meet you, handsome," she whispered in a lyrical tone, so tentative and soothing as she wanted Bucky to hear the tiny meows emitting from of her snuggling kitten.

"So there is someone else here. I knew I smelled 'em," Bucky spoke lowly, his tone bordering on growl as he contemplated what or who could that unique smell belong to. It was close to Selina, he felt dread claw against his belly at the thought of what it could be. He instinctively guessed it might've been a baby of some kind. Perhaps she had found a stray aardvark or pup in the woods that might've been prey to the bears. Or perhaps…

Taking in a stronger sniff, the wolf detects the familiar scent of milk being nourished. His stomach begins to flip as an impossible goes through his mind. For a moment, he felt his courage leave him at the thought of facing what he suspected. He knew he couldn't back out now. He didn't want to anyway. With slow steps, the wolf makes his approach towards the center of the cave, eyes fixed on Selina. He circles her in his steps until he's facing her front. The instant he sees the small bundle of fur tucked against her belly, he loses all strength in his legs and drops down to his haunches in front of her.

"Oh my God…" He whispers, in awe once he identified the little bundle of fur as a baby cub—a girl. She was tucked close towards Selina b***, being nursed the same way Bucky took care of his little pups. The little cat was so small, about the size of a baseball, with cinder-colored fur, indistinguishable from his own, with small whiskers sprouting from her nose. Her eyes were closed, but the resemblance was enough to put the wheels spinning in Bucky's mind. "Selina. Is she yours? How'd this happen, darlin?" He asks, his awe undiminished that he hadn't even begun to put the pieces together.

As Bucky remained questioningly transfixed on the delicate velvety newborn cub wedged snug against the panther's swollen girth, an array of emotions danced across his canine features, his eyebrows arched upward, dumbfounded and trapped into a moment of unbridled, mystified fascination, with tentative effort, he narrowed his long muzzle a breadth closer to the dozy baby purring in unison with her, as he inhaled the pure and beautiful scent wafting around him.

Selina curved her large muzzle into a devilish smirk, conveying genuinely that her precious baby girl belonged to him. "Don't worry handsome, the little furball is just like her Daddy, she even has your eyes..."

Keeping herself poised in her element, Selina dragged a large paw closer to his stiffened fore leg; caressing his thick fur with a loving stroke of assurance. The malevolence of her lithe feline visage faded beautifully into unshed tears as she mirrored Bucky's widened steel- blue eyes. She drew out a terse seethe, feeling the cub's tiny mouth latching onto her with ravenous suckling pressure.

Growling under her measured breath, fleetingly, Selina stifled a wince against the assailing throb as heated milk pulsated out of her."Not to mention your appetite, Barnes," she snarked deviously, before falling torturously deep into the softness of his glistening and painstakingly haunting aquamarine pools; those lucid remnants of his captive soul were silently urging her to finally disarm the unavoidable truth. It had left her isolated from him for nine -agonizing-months.

Resistance thrummed in her veins as she prepared to deliver the full extent of her confession that he was aspiring to hear. Selina needed to reawaken his joy, give him a sense of renewing hope in their parallel world; that what they shared was eternal and never distant to their hearts' reach. Composing her emotions, Selina resolved to flashing her ardent golden orbs at the small cub. A radiance awashed over her, infusing warmth inside the cave as she emitted a laugh sweetly-almost jovial that it caught Bucky off guard. "This little treasure, is your baby girl, James...I've been carrying for her months, after we had a pretty damn good night, remember?"

The silence that lingered throughout the cave was so intense, the faintest brush of wind could be heard raking against the leaves outside. Bucky didn't realize that at that moment, he appeared as a deer caught in the head-lights. His ears were pointed in a comical fashion while his unblinking eyes continued to gaze at the feline pair in front of him as if they were the most fascinating sight he'd ever seen. "I…uh…" were his befuddled words that weren't sure of their path. The bomb-shell revelation that Selina had delivered a cub—a beautiful baby kitty—still hadn't worn off, but the fact that it was his own, and not some other feline she might have crossed paths with was staggering.

He wasn't sure what to have expected, but it certainly wasn't this. It was incredible as it was joyous. "Yeah-yeah, I remember that. Damn do I," he says with a ravenous grin. He still couldn't believe it. He was a father, one in the more traditional sense this time that he had actually impregnated Selina after their night together 9 months ago when they had regained their humanity. He couldn't help but feel supremely male and proud of the accomplishment. "I just never expected this. It's amazing, Selina," he says with a contented growl, bringing himself closer until he's seated just beside them. "You and I…" He trails off, realizing suddenly he didn't know his new baby girl's name.

"Rebecca Julianna Barnes," Selina answered in an arioso volume, that was a defining and tangible moment of introducing him to their newest baby girl; purring to his content whimper, she tilted her head back, just enough to rest on his powerful shoulders as his thermal heat penetrated back into her. A novel stillness came over them, also fathomless and yet utterly empowering, something elemental that melded their hostage souls into a key of freedom.

Closing her eyes, the huntress found her handsome and lethal Siberian--Brooklyn warrior in the enchanting shimmers of moonlight, the clear glacial depth of his intense steel-blue eyes, that reflected pure and soulful light that he appeared boyishly angelic. His widening quirky smirk, so mischievous and genuine behind the semblance of the menacing wolf. Their detachment tore her deep, it always felt like a lifetime had passed when they became human, the curse was unmerciful, but somehow they would conquer Loki's soul-capturing spell, and finally see the morning light in each other's eyes again.

Nuzzling her large muzzle over his dense cinder-brunette fur, unbeknownst to the pacifying rhythmic sync of their heartbeats, Selina felt infinite happiness irrevocably unfurling around her, as she felt the harsh pressure on her girth lessening with each vociferous suckle. Rebecca was finishing her breakfast, which indicated that Bucky would have a chance to hold his daughter within the cradle of his shielding forepaws. Pulling away from him, Selina lowered her head gently down to the cub’s level; and graced her tongue with a delicate warm stroke over Rebecca’s back, purring in a soft cadence to soothe her baby down. "Do you want to hold her, Buck, just mind her claws, she likes to slash them at things....."

“Y-Yeah, I’d love to…” Bucky says, with a softness unexpected for a wolf of his size and visage. He was shaken still, and the realization of the name she’d chosen for their new baby had begun to sink in. Selina gently lifts the newborn cub between her jaws and sets her down just between his paws. “You named her after my sister,” he sniffs, a humbleness in his tone that he hadn’t quite felt before. He loved his younger sister more than he could explain, and the memory of her was always one of joy mixed with tragedy. There were times when his darkest dreams orchestrated an unplayed memory where Rebecca—so alone and sorrowful—fell into the grip of merciless hands just as he did. The very mention of her name would inspire a bittersweet array of emotions within him. But now, maybe it would bring something more pure and happy to him.

As he feels the tiny little bundle of fur nestled into the warm space between his paws, he remains deftly still, afraid even the slightest of movements could damage what was one of the most fascinating and precious sights he’d ever laid eyes on. She was so different from a pup, but still so beautiful. “She’s so small,” he murmurs, enthralled by her unique scent that reminded him of a warm bed and blanket of vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. Her eyes were closed, which told him she had only just been brought into this world a few days ago. And yet, there was a maturity about her that was captivating by way of her small, yet noticeable claws protruding from her tiny paws. “But I’ll bet just as strong as her mother.”

Feeling her heart swell a tenfold, disarmingly; Selina embraced the indescribable, and unforgettable moment of watching a new bond arising between father and daughter. This was freedom--home. She smirked coyly using a bit of snark to deliver playfulness effortlessly in her delayed response.“You just had to rub it in, huh, Barnes...”

"Can really fault me for that, can you darlin'. You're full of surprises," he says with a small twinkle in his watery eyes. He refrained from openly shedding tears of joy, despite how overwhelmed he felt with exuberance in this precious moment. He never in his wildest dreams expected this day to unfold in this manner. Once he left his den just before the crack of dawn this morning, he had come fully prepared for the possibility he might not find Selina, or that he'd fail to get her to come back with him. It had been 9 months since they last saw each other, there wasn't a day that went by where he didn't miss her. Now that he had found her, with their new child, he'd nearly forgotten the true purpose of his visit. He didn't want to break the joyous cadence in their exchanges, but he knew this was something they couldn't ignore. "Do they know about her? How did you manage to…" He says, the intended meaning of words not lost as they implied the cruel monsters of the forest that terrorized all other life.

A flare of vehemence alternated her passive demeanor, her orbs of harvest moon blackened at the second his questions breached her, every fiber of her lithe feline body tensed when she glanced down at her cub. She parted her jaws, displaying her 3-inch fangs, drawing her ears back. Her whole countenance morphed into a coiling cobra, waiting to strike death into the air. A sharp hiss revealed her murderous intent, driving her thoughts back to Rumlow. Coldness flooded through her body. “That scarred bastard will never know about her...I kept my secret hidden from him. It will stay that way.”

Though her response had been as brazen and fierce as he expected, Bucky still felt mildly concerned as he looks down at the baby cub nestling between his paws. She was only a few days old, and infants needed the utmost of care and attention during their first few months. The connection between parent and off-spring was beyond blood, and they would only feel pain if that connection were to be severed for an extended period of time. As clever as Selina was to keep her pregnancy a secret from Rumlow and his murderous pack of bears, Bucky knew she couldn't keep up the pretense for long. As he saw it, there was only one possible solution to his. "Come home with me, Selina," he says, looking into her eyes with the blazing intensity that couldn't be shaken. "You and Becca, we'll take all our kids and find a new shelter far away from this valley. You can't keep up this up. Eventually, he'll find out about her the longer you stay here."

As the rawness of his graveled timbre became a cresting wave against her heart, Selina couldn't deny the urge of freedom, nor could she accept it. She needed to remain desolate; subdue her emotions and morph back into the impassive and lethally skilled huntress. They were trapped within an unparallel world; moonlight defined that balance, marking their souls into the crosshairs of both humanity and servitude. Home was exceedingly distant to reach, and Bucky needed to realize that she was fighting for both of them. It was a damnable fate.

A duel of the heartache that never felt so agonizing-soul wrenching to discard. She wanted to run away with him, embrace beautiful and adoring moments with her babies; she was caged under Rumlow's shadow and the vicious storm of bloodthirst never receded. "You know how much I want that, handsome," Selina purred in a smoky voice, encompassing her paw of his silver furred paw, possessively as their infant cub nuzzled against them sweetly, reminding her that love would always exist within the darkness. She had to make the ultimatum of her grievous decision in order to save Rebecca's innocent light. "I'm not free to make that choice, James, if that demented bear discovered Becca, he will claim her, do things to her mind and make her forget that she as a soul, like me."

The direwolf nearly growled with intended malice, but the for the sake of the innocent little cub which he held securely in his embrace, he forgo his temper while his emotions took a somber turn. "What are you gonna do then?" 'With Becca', the question hung in the air though it was unsaid. Bucky knew Selina was by nature a lone cat that didn't want to have those she loved suffer for the sake of her. Each day she served the bear pack was another day closer to her losing grip on the humanity within her soul. Bucky's decision to come after her had been motivated not solely on the need for him and his pups to have her back, but to save her from what Rumlow wanted her to become. direwolf nearly growled with intended malice, but the for the sake of the innocent little cub which he held securely in his embrace, he forgo his temper while his emotions took a somber turn. "What are you gonna do then?" 'With Becca', the question hung in the air though it was unsaid. Bucky knew Selina was by nature a lone cat that didn't want to have those she loved suffer for the sake of her. Each day she served the bear pack was another day closer to her losing grip on the humanity within her soul. Bucky's decision to come after her had been motivated not solely on the need for him and his pups to have her back, but to save her from what Rumlow wanted her to become. Now there was Rebecca to worry about. A beautiful little cub that was as much as surprise as she was a question mark in the middle of this struggle—this battle—between the animals of the valley.

The delivery of his unevaded question painstakingly carried a heartfelt gravity for the life of their little baby girl, Rebecca Barnes was a blaze of pure light against the dark edges of Selina's tortured and agonized heart, deep within her core. Selina achingly knew that the only way to spare her newborn daughter from sharing the equal fate of being a death stalker--a murderous instrument wielded by Rumlow's savage command was to stray away...To abandon her cub. Feeling heartache amping, she betrayed her genuine emotions, wearing a guise of deception. She couldn't make that painful choice--not yet. "Don't worry, handsome," she purred in a silken undertone rolling off her tongue, cool and collective with a taint of seductive allure. "I'm good at covering my tracks, besides Rumlow is still hibernating for a few more weeks." She engaged his luminous orbs of unwavering steel-blue, and played out cunningly."I have time to do what needs to be done."

A burning impulse to press urgingly, to demand a better answer than that was at the tip of the wolf's tongue, like a weight needing to be unburdened. But for the sake of tranquility and the jovial spirit of this moment, he decided to repress his thoughts for now, and trust that Selina knew what she was doing. She always came up with a plan, even if they weren't the most ideal, and managed to find a way through a rough patch. "Okay, darlin'." He murmurs softly. Leaning forward, he brushes his muzzle against the crook of her shoulder, gently licking the tender spot with a show of support. "Whatever comes at us, we'll take it head on and knock it off its feet." He gazes into the feline's eyes for a profound moment, the intensity in her golden slits was daunting, but so were the luminous lights of his blue orbs. "And you know where I'll be when you need me," he licks her muzzle, kissing her sweetly, lovingly before shifting his gaze to the sleeping cub in his arms. "I'm here for both of you."

Selina tried her damnedest not to allow errant tears to fall in that tantalizing moment their united souls were a breach from entwining contact; she gazed into the searing intensity of his eyes, finding no devoid of humanity reflecting back, strikingly pure and endless light until the spheres morphed into a soulful depth. It was just a vivid glimpse of the defiant, youthful man behind the wolf; and the more she peered within those oceans of aquamarine and frosted steel, she found her Bucky again.

Lifting her large paw to the level of his menacing canine face, with effortless desire, she reached for his long muzzle, straining against the forbidden gravity of their curse, and traced over the full curve of his fanged mouth. The caress held a glide of phantom warmth, enough to convey her truest love to him. “One day, we will dance again on rooftops, James...” She swallowed down hard, tersely, and roved her gaze back at her dainty cub snuggling against the broad expanse of his furred chest, smirking faintly. “I think she knows who her Daddy is...”

"I'm gonna stay with you guys awhile," he finds himself saying. He could sense an air of uncertainty about her as she no doubt considered their other babies who weren't here. He was quick to reassure her by nuzzling the side of her head, "don't worry. The little guys won't be awake till noon. We got time." He'd counted the hours it took for him to get here since dawn and knew he had ample time to make it back just in time to feed the little fussy furballs who he loved just as much. He wasn't sure what Selina's plan was, but knew that once he'd leave today, a now much greater half of him would remain behind, torn but flourishing in the love he'd bestow on his new child. "That all right with you?"

Registering the hardened ache of fierce detachment in his graveled tone, Selina glared at him challengingly; the predatory light gleaming her golden spheres intensified, she was dueling with a tumult wage of emotions; feeling unbalanced in her element as the wake of her enchantment penetrated deeper into her bones. She needed to escape from this incriminating reality, find a way to restore the damaging spell that forced them to live in different shadow.

Reeling from the potency of her unavailing fate, Selina craved wantonly to feel the cool metallic of Bucky's left hand tracing over her curves, the innate softness of his shapely wide lips as his possessive mouth feverishly captured her lips with a soul-taking kiss. She wanted to breathe in his heady and masculine scent and dance forever with him. The moment between them needed to elapse again--replay like an endless tune and just make them fall back in time. Every day, she dreaded of fading into the void of bloodlust, but after she delivered Rebecca in her realm of obscurity, she discovered redemption in the infant cub's tiny mewls --an innocent and pure melody that drove a calming back into her infected heart. Somehow, she felt stronger to face her demons--to kill for the freedom of her babies and love.

This was her rising war to conquer; she was no longer a masterful thief prowling the night, she was altered into a soldier who carried battle scars over her heart. Her babies deserved a home without the darkness creeping at their doorstep, she wanted to share a new lifetime with Bucky, human or feline--she would be at his side, living in new light of their freedom.

To beat the inevitable dodge, she needed to play Rumlow’s crazed and murderous games, just until Rebecca was strong enough to run to home with her. The ebbing choice to give her into the loving --protective embrace of the alpha wolf, never receded. She needed a few more weeks to spend with her baby girl, the limited time she had to nurse the cub was torturous to accept. Instead, she opted to her triplet pups, wondering how much they'd grown in the last few months.“How are the little furballs?” she asked testily, using her inquest as a distraction to obstruct her thralls of grievous heartache. “Do they know how to talk yet?”

Her question was the much-needed ice-breaker that Bucky had been searching for. Though Selina had gotten to see their babies briefly before, it was too long ago, and she wasn't able to spend near enough time with them. A wisp of a smile stretched across his muzzle while his tail wagged contentedly. "Bits and phrases. Rora and Bren I think compete to see who can talk louder," he says with a soft murmur, recalling the many instances he was awakened at night to hear the twin pups fussing inside the bedded blanket. His demeanor becomes pensive and forlorn as his thoughts turned to what used to be his youngest. "Mattie…She hasn't broken through yet. Sometimes I'm worried that she won't.”

As Bucky became suddenly dismal to his own regard of his precious baby’s ability to voice out more than a whimpering squeak, Selina truly believed that the smallest of his litter possessed the lethal skill of furtiveness and hell-bent determination, the unified essence of the Cat and Winter Soldier. A merciless harmony that she would only wield; Madison Barnes was a virtuoso in the composition of their tragic magnum opus, an angelic beauty destined to dance in the contrast shadow and moonlight—the borders of her life. Sometimes a voice wasn’t needed to prove the extent of her inner strength.“Don’t worry, handsome, that baby girl won’t disappoint…” she purred with a promising edge, nuzzling her whiskered muzzle underneath his sharpened jaw, smirking wickedly. “She’s brazen to dance in the darkness alone, and I have a feeling, she’ll master each move.”

Despite the gnawing sense of sorrow and remorse towards his youngest pup, Bucky was desperate to latch onto Selina's voice of reassurance. Mattie was the closest that resembled her mother in not just appearance, but brazen spirit. Each time Bucky gazed into her eyes, he would see Selina gazing back. He would believe she could overcome any obstacle, just as he believed the beautiful feline nestled between his paws could do the same. "Gotta say, darlin'. We made some very strong beautiful kids. Didn't we?" In a rare show of elation, the wolf shakes in what resembled a hearty chuckle, his tongue hanging from his jaw while a twinkle reflected in his eyes.

Those defining words of their enduring devotion grounded her rebellious spirit, they were parents sharing two lives in a curse's reflection and one mission. Their beautifully cunning and stubborn pups and cub would unite them as a family, the divided souls James 'Bucky' Barnes and Selina Maria Kyle existed voluntarily in the innocent light that blazed vividly in their children's eyes of glacial steel-azure and molten coffee ; they would only have reignition of soul bound desires to keep them standing on solid ground when the dark storms loomed over their shaken world. "I still can't believe that we're parents, Buck, well, mostly you popping out growling furballs..." Snark rolled out naturally from her parted muzzle, as a malevolent glint dazzled in her golden depths. Teasing him always thrilled her to become a playful kitten again. "I never got to see how fat you got, would have been a sight to see, soldier boy."

“I’m glad you didn’t, but believe me I can still be a handsome fatty,” the wolf shook with a rumbling chuckle. His boyish charm made him appear all the more human, and all the more like the Brooklyn kid he was deep down. The vibrations of his warm body seemed to relax the baby cub nestled in his arms as she proceeds to meow and curl further into him. His attention drawn, Bucky was mesmerized by both how similar and how different the baby cub was. It made him wonder how she would perceive him once she opened her eyes to the world. Would she know he was her father even though he was a wolf? Would she know Brennen, Aurora and Madison were her brother and sisters? Trepidation set in, with a gnawing sense of turmoil at the back of his mind.

That was until, to his astonishment, he feels a familiar tickling sensation rake across his paw. Rebecca had just licked him. “How bout that. Something tells me she knows who I am,” he sniffs, bending down to nuzzle her affectionately, warmly as only a father would.

Watching the precious and rewarding sight unfolding in front of her, Selina brazenly resolved to inch closer against magnetizing force between them; until her whiskers pricked sharply over his canine muzzle, she listened to him emit a throaty chuckle, as her wet nose bumped playfully into his furred jaw. " Lay on your back,” she purred imporlingly, feeling the smooth glide of their cub’s tiny mouth caressing her paw. “I want to show you what this little furball loves to do...”

Curious by Selina's request, Bucky sat puzzled in thought upon his legs. But a moment later, he decided to follow her instruction and carefully shifts his position until he's laying on his back. The feel of the rocky terrain beneath his back was uncomfortable. This wasn't a position he normally assumed due to the numerous instances he was carrying heavy weight. His paws dangle onto slightly in the air, his head is propped up ever slightly as he waits and listens to Selina rising up, with little Rebecca tucked between her jaws.

Smirking against the tightness of her jaws, feeling the air of dominance returning, Selina smoothly lowered the fussy and infant cub over the length of Bucky's furry exposed belly, releasing her flexing grip automatically with fluid motion, until Rebecca balanced perfectly on the shapely roundness of the young alpha wolf's mid-section.

As she felt a cast of stability eclipsing over her, Selina nudged her muzzle over Rebecca's arching back, purring softly in a hushed rumble, before she allowed Rebecca to gain a traction of mobility with delightful and wobbling paces. The little cub mewled with high pitch cooing volumes; digging her retracing claws into Bucky's undercoat as she pretended to stalk her prey. Sunlight radiated over her downy midnight fur, making her appear like enchantingly beautiful little mystique.

Sensing a nexus of trust with her father, Rebecca crawled over his belly with feline grace, unshakably, impressing her parents, as she harnessed control determinedly with her diminutive paws, sizing her cautious steps without resistance."Becca, open your eyes, and look at Daddy," Selina coaxed huskily, meeting Bucky's alighted stare of frosted blue. "Comfortable there, handsome?"

Though the piercing ache of rock throbbed against his lower back, the alpha wolf maintained a façade of leisure beneath the golden slits of his feline companion. "About as much as I can get, darlin," he half-joked. Truthfully, he'd slept in in more uncomfortable terrains. But he wasn't about to complain. The suppressing ache in his back had faded to the back of his mind as he watched the tiny little wonder raise shift towards his muzzle, on little paws until she was balanced on her hind legs as if she were a ballerina. Awestruck, Bucky was thrown, not just by the fact she had perfect form, but also that she seemed to understand her mother's command already. "Oh…" Bucky feels all breath leave his lungs as a pair of beady eyelids peel open to reveal the deepest blue eyes he'd ever seen. A shade so vivid, not even the ocean or the skies could compare to their beauty. "She…" He says with a breathless purr, hypnotized by the most beautiful pair of blue eyes, with cat pupils peering deeply into his luminous orbs as if they were gazing into his very soul. He could scarcely recall a more beautiful and as well as daunting sight to behold. "She has my eyes…" The wolf sniffs, the warmth flooding his body evaporating all sense of discomfort, leaving him only gushing silently. "She's so beautiful." He murmurs.

Watching, the little feline meows while observing the strange yet somehow familiar face beneath her paws. "Hey there, little kitty. I'm your daddy." He whispers lovingly.

Daddy...It was a calming and defining word that soothed the restlessness in her little body, for only being a few days old, Rebecca knew who her parents were through an unbreakable soul connection. With a brazen flare, she crawled to Bucky’s thick chest, purring with a squeaky growl as she dipped her lithe body down and nestled herself cozily under the curve of his set jaw. She liked the smell of him. Evergreen and frosted mint. Her delicate muzzle whisked along the growth of his chestnut mane, feeling heat absorb into her baby fur. Once she became content, she curled herself into a ball and nipped at his whiskers. Her tiny mouth parted, revealing needlepoint fangs, and then she tucked her head into his neck, cooing to the softness of their adjoining rhythm. ‘Daddy.’

Bucky felt as if he were gushing, the happiness he felt within only matched by the day his pups were brought into the world. Moments such as this made him feel an invigorating sense of life and blessing. To bring a child into the world was a precious thing, and the fact that little Rebecca, a cub so different from the wolf he was, could still sense and accept him as her father, made the wolf feel as if he were soaring above the clouds, so close to heaven. "Thank you, Selina…" He finds himself saying, sniffling while leaning into Rebecca's embrace against his neck. His luminous blue eyes focused on the golden gaze of the feline in front of him. "For this," he clarifies to her, nuzzling little Rebecca as she releases a soft yawn in the sound of a meow. Bucky felt his heart might burst with adoration. The burning affection he felt in his heart began to increase until he found that he needed to express his happiness in the most appropriate way he could think of. "I love you so much, darlin'. I can't even begin to express how much." He whines, feeling only slightly relieved at the verbal confession. Gesturing with his paw for her to come forward. "But maybe I can show you…" he coaxes softly.

Thralls of amplified desire seized her resistance, Selina engaged his proximity with a tentative motion of her lithesome and curvaceous feline body in the elements of her dangerous allure; reeling closer with every heartbeat as Bucky waited for her in the stillness of the moment. The harvest moon shades of her irises betrayed cold distance, a flood of heat rose in her veins like inferno, as she gazed into the wolf's glacial blue depths, finding a twinkle of boyish mischief, evident to the quirked smile that arched his furred lips, he was enticing her into his possessive embrace of longing intimacy.

A whimper passed fiercely through Bucky's scrunching muzzle, conveying the avid openness of his ravaging desire; Selina reacted disarmingly with graceful and beguiling poise, feeling more human than she did in a long time. "I'm not sure how to do this, Buck..." she admitted in a shaky breath, their souls were entombed by Loki's damn spell to never feel the rawness of their equal passion---they were eternally apart within these bodies. She needed to believe that love would never die. Offering him a kittenish smile, she coaxed him with a seductive purr. “So tell me, Bucko, how would a handsome wolf dance with a pretty kitty?"

"Can't say I know for sure, darlin'". He says, without a hint of discourse. Though there was a barrier of breed difference between them, the emotions they felt were as equal as they were when they were both still human. An unbreakable connection that only carried on into their cursed existence as wolf and panther. Fur and flesh shaped their bodies, but within their shimmering orbs of gold and sapphire, their true visages could be seen through the windows to their souls. "How bout' we try and find out by starting the old-fashioned way?" He suggests with a deep rumble of words meant to be coaxing. The vibrations of which prompted the sleeping kitten to purr contentedly in her sleep.

Using the assuage of unobstructed desire, Selina lifted her forepaw to his canine face, tracing the curve of his sharp jaw, reverently with possessive heat, she tried to envision the man--the Winter Soldier behind the wolf. Bucky tilted his head to her touch, openly with a wicked smirk playing on his muzzle. There was a duel of ardent emotion clashing within her, at the palpable second Selina leaned down against the command of her heart until they between two halves--reflections in both shadow and light.

She wanted to feel the mastery of his sensual full lips, the feverish softness that pulled her into submission; she knew that resisting this connective pulse of their devotion would only make her surrender to the enchanted. She had to offer herself to the hunger of her wolf. "Take the lead, Barnes," she purred softly against his cinder fur.

A rush of warm anticipation ran through the wolf's body, tingling every muscle inside of him ever so pleasantly that he nearly growled at the sensation. With careful ease, he's able to lift little Rebecca between his massive jaws, and sets her down on a soft patch of earth beside him. Feeling his new cub nestled against the weight of his turned belly allowed him freedom of mobility and leisure to carry out what he deeply wanted most. To feel his Selina's touch again. "Just, uh, no teeth, darlin'," he says with a soft tone of humor in his voice. His luminous blue eyes were ardent and unblinking in their intent as they match the burning stare of gold. The air between them was a shifting of hot and cool as their breathes touched each other's muzzles. Bucky marveled at how hot her breath was, and could only imagine how cold his own was. Two opposites becoming whole, their souls connecting with the faintest brush of each other's muzzles. Bucky found his eyes closing of their own volition. They each had no lips to join, but their touch was equally intense in each other's warm embrace that escalated with a brush of tongues against each others muzzles.

Closing her eyes against the crests of heat enveloping her feline body, Selina felt the edge of his fangs grazing over her muzzle, his Russian timbre was breathy and ghosted with seducing growls, she inadvertently entered into a blissful void, lightning crashed as they fell deeper into a tangible and intimate tempest, hungering to devour what the rapid moment gave to them. Nearing the edge of the kiss, achingly, Selina licked the arch of his mouth with a sensual glide, until she felt boneless and ungrounded. They could only engage a breadth of their passion, limits of their forms subdued the equal softness of their adjoined mouths. It was torturously unbearable to be so close---and only feel a breach of their love.

Slowly their affectionate exchange began to recede into a softer cadence or rubbing noses, drinking in each other's unique scent they each found to be soothing. Their blood rushed heavily in their ears while the noise of panting breaths filled the cave. Bucky's icy-blue eyes peeled open to find Selina's brow pinched in what resembled to be a disappointed frown. "Don't worry, dorogoy (darling). U nas budet shan. Luna na nashey storone. (We'll have our chance. The moon is on our side.)" He says with an affectionate growl. He'd counted the lunar cycle every night since Selina had left months ago,

“YA budu zhdat', chtoby snova potantsevat' s toboy, mal'chik-volk.”( I'll be waiting to dance with you again, wolf boy.) Selina avowed in soft Russian, a velvety purr ghosted off her tongue, she burrowed her muzzle against his thick mane, as she froze against his body, feeling the unbridled strength of their unconquerable devotion pounding with every thunderous heartbeat in the suddenness of his departure. It ravaged her deep, feeling a gap of coldness penetrate through her silken ebony fur. She wanted him to stay---maybe he could bring the pups back here for the night. “Look, I know you have to leave, but maybe you and the little furballs can stay in here...” She narrowed her livid golden orbs at her snoozing infant cub, urgency chased the fierceness of her imploring resonance, she didn't want to feel abandoned in the shadows--not again. She challenged the return of heartache, stroking her face in the hard swell of his furred chest, thermal heat arrested her. “With us...”

The offer had been as unexpected as it was tempting to Bucky who he had begun to make his way back onto his feet. Though his body and emotions were high after the passionate exchange he shared with the exotic feline he loved so much, he was still stricken with a sense of caution as he contemplated the thought of bringing all his pups such a great distance. The forest he trekked through at such an early hour was easier to navigate in the mornings when most of the native wildlife were still in their dens and holes while the evenings proved to be the time of the hunt. There were other wolves in the valley that stomped through, some of them more feral than Bucky, and they wouldn't hesitate to try and take his pups from him if they wanted. But then again, he knew that safest path back to this cave that no others did. It would be a long march, but he felt confident he could see it through. And besides, the pups needed to get to know their mother more…and their new sister. "Maybe for a few nights," he says with something resembling a homely-smile while making his way towards the entrance of the cave. "I warn you though, Rora and Bren are like two little hellraisers that make sleeping feel like a blessing…that's until they wake you up at night." The wolf chortles with amusement as he hears a meowing hiss of exasperation come from Selina. Standing in front of the narrow rock-opening that led towards the light of the great outdoors, the massive direwolf turns his gaze back towards the panther—his panther—and their baby cub sleeping comfortably beside her. It was an image of home and comfort he wanted to take in and reflect on in his most disquieting moments as he pondered the purpose of his existence and what it was he was fighting for. Family. The answer was always there, deep within heart and soul, fueling him through the struggles that challenged his way and guiding him on a path towards sure consummation with the beast within him. It was a form he had come to accept as his other half, and one that he relied upon now to watch over his growing family. "Take care of the little one, darlin'. I'll be back sooner than you think," he turns his back and begins making his way into the outdoors. He dared not to look back or suddenly find himself pulled like a magnet back towards his other half. The distance that grew suddenly felt as if he were being stretched towards aching paths without a middle ground to place himself. His anxiety was stilled only by the mere reminder that he had pups waiting for him, and all the time to make them ready to meet their mother and new sister. As he steps out onto the grassy field within the clearing of the forest that offered a generous view of the stream ahead, he marvels at the sight of a blue sky above his head, catching a glimpse of the moon far east. Perhaps soon enough, he and Selina would be given another chance to dance in the pale moonlight. The End

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