#I like having my book and my book analysed by a stranger right next to each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

articfoxxxxsstuff · 2 years

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Hello my dear readers! Do enjoy this little (is 4.6k little?) teaser in the toilet before the main event ;)! Previous Chapters 1-4 are on my Tumblr and AO3. Please help yourself~

Link Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Title: 2AM

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Chapter:5

Warning: Boob play, Boob worshipping, Book sucking, Fingering, Pussy eating, Cumming, Oral sex in the toilet, your orgasms before he gets his, making out, filthy blowjob, suggestive stuff, Dirty NSFW Thoughts, Language

Masterpiece blessed by @nana.yin.nana

Things escalated very quickly after that intense grinding session. One minute you were on the dance floor passionately making out with a handsome blonde-haired stranger and the next minute you found yourself in a hazy post-make out daze being dragged halfway across the dance floor.

Kyojuro's large hand securely enclosed itself around your wrist in a vice-like grip as he assertively led you through the crowd. He was never going to let go of your hand ever again. The next thing he planned to do was to give you a little preview. His eyes darkened as he imagined countless scenarios which included you begging for his cock. No, he was going to first make you crave for him as much as he did before finally giving you the proper fucking that you deserved. After all, naughty girls need to be punished. He still had yet to forgive you for your little stunt earlier.

You on the other hand albeit a bit tipsy, was wondering how Kyojuro's handsome face could remain so impassive in public especially after that entire fiasco. Shouldn't he be trying his hardest to get into your pants? What does he mean by 'stop by somewhere first before going home'? Was this going to be a quickie? You weren't some side dish. The more you thought about it, the more insecure you felt. However, all your fears dissipated the moment your eyes caught his. His glowing eyes were only focused on one person, you and that was all the reaffirmation you needed.

Poor (your name), you really didn't need to worry about how Kyojuro felt about you. If anything, you failed to notice how his fingers would tighten a bit more than necessary whenever someone got too close to you. Unfortunately for him, his loyal and self-proclaimed number one friend had already long spotted you two trying to get through the sea of sweaty bodies and decided that he was in the mood for some mischief.

"Hey Rengoku!"

"Tengen. Sorry but as you can see I'm a bit busy at the moment." Kyojuro forced a polite smile before shooting his pal an agitated look.

Tengen smirked and lazily placed both his palms up in mock surrender before stooping down to whisper into his friend's ear, "If you're looking for a decent toilet. I know where you can find one."

"Don't test my patience Tengen, I swear-"

"I mean you're more than welcome to join the long queue, if you two aren't too pressed for time." The silver man grinned while gesturing towards the long line of semi-drunk people leaning against the wall all awaiting their turn to do their business, be it peeing, vomiting or sex.

Kyojuro wasn't exactly thrilled to be stopped mid-conquest, but he had to admit that his friend was right. The corners of his dark eyebrows furrowed, and an irritated emotion briefly crossed his eyes before he came to a complete standstill. Shit, he hadn't properly thought this through. Is this what thinking with his dick felt like? This wasn't going to work, giving you a little teaser in a filthy toilet used by God knows how many people. How unbecoming of his manners.

As he continued analysing his options on the spot, the man made sure to quickly steal a glance at you to check if you were still ok. Thankfully he didn't have to worry too much about how you were faring. You looked quite relaxed with your eyes closed as you lightly swayed to the beat with his hand still possessively on your wrist. God, you were such a good girl putting all your trust in him. He was going to reward you well for your good behaviour.

"I didn't really peg you as an exhibitionist Rengoku! In front of so many people? How flamboyant! Maybe you're into pegging as well hmm? " Tengen's deafening voice quickly drew the man back to reality.

"I'm not." He tapped his feet impatiently while waiting for his friend to finish what he had come here to say. Whatever information Tengen wanted to reveal had better be fucking useful.

"Just between you and me, I would recommend the staff toilet downstairs. It's often vacant." The silver haired man's sly voice dropped an octave as he patted his best friend's shoulders in a friendly manner.

"You better not be pulling my leg Tengen." Tengen could see that his friend's eyes were now glinting even more dangerously.

"Cross my heart. I hope you have a nice fuck. You desperately are in need of it." He laughed as he watched his friend hurriedly disappear with you down the flights of steps that lead downstairs.

"Tengen sama! How did you know about the staff bathroom?" A girl with short dark blue hair pouted while hooking her arm around the tall man's arm.

"Tengen sama has his ways. Why are you so surprised?" Another lady with a ponytail piped up while hooking her arm seductively on Tengen's other arm.

"Ladies settle down. I promise to bring the three of you to a bigger and better spot." The silver haired man grinned while moving towards to cup the chin of another black-haired lady who was quietly blushing at his actions.

Rengoku Kyojuro was normally a patient man but tonight was different. He almost, almost felt bad for losing his temper at his close colleague but surely his friend would understand right? Heck, he had always been teased for being a virgin but above all, he couldn't afford to waste any more precious time. 10 long years of unrequited one-sided love for someone who forgot about his existence. He had time, right? Kyojuro absent-mindedly began licking his suddenly dried lips with his long red tongue. Enough time for a quick taster, before he could rightly indulge and lose himself in your wet cavern.

"Rengoku-san? Aren't the toilets upstairs?" Your melodious voice broke the silence of the deserted hallway and immediately brought him back from his lewd thoughts.

"Don't worry my love. I'm bringing you to somewhere more private, away from all those distractions." Kyojuro whispered to you in a reassuring voice before planting a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Mhmm sounds good." You giggled while attempting to rub your thighs together in hopes of reducing the growing need down south which of course didn't go unnoticed. Kyojuro's penetrating eyes gleamed sharply as he watched you struggle with your little predicament. He was positive that he could easily help you with that.

Fortunately for the both of you Tengen was right, no one was around. Kyojuro muttered a silent 'thank you' and confidently strode towards the door with a 'staff only' sign hanging on top. He then impatiently reached out to throw open the door.

Bingo.

The door swung open to reveal an empty bathroom dimly lit by a long strip of white florescent light. Kyojuro's amber eyes quickly scanned the surroundings as he took note of the plain walls that were smeared with all manners of graffiti, a mirror on top of a small sink and most importantly a toilet bowl with a lid on. He could already picture himself getting a blowjob from you on the throne.

Not bad Tengen.

As soon as you stepped into the room, you felt a strong pair of arms powerfully pulling you into the empty bathroom stall. You looked up to see Kyojuro smirking down at you while loosening his blood red tie.

God, he looked so hot.

"Last chance to say no (your name)." Kyojuro growled while pinning your arms firmly above your head as he took the opportunity to closely study your face with growing hunger.

"No? I'm not leaving till you fuck me Rengoku San." You couldn't help but feel quite turned on by the situation. There was something very intimate when the golden-haired man politely asked for your consent before they two of you began getting it on.

"Oh. Quite a straightforward thing, aren't you? First, allow me to reward you for being such a good girl." Kyojuro groaned and finally allowed himself to fully press his body against yours before taking an experimental hard thrust again your needy pussy.

"Ah." You mewled as you felt your lover roughly pushing you up against the rough concrete wall while planting hot open mouth kisses all the way down to your heaving chest.

"Tell me what you want." He glowered.

"Touch me here. Kyojuro." You cried out wantonly while cupping your (colour) tits in your trembling hands and thrusting them out to him like an offering.

Gods.

The 28-year-old man had waited far too long for this. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. The chance to finally savour his goddess's ample bosoms had finally arrived. Better yet, you were even presenting it to him just like how Eve bewitchingly presented an apple to Adam. He was going to devour you alright. The thought of him finally getting a taste of you made him harder, his thoughts and cock both giddy with excitement.

Within a few hot seconds you immediately felt both your blouse and bra being ripped off, leaving your breasts completely vulnerable and exposed for Kyojuro to drink in. You briefly wondered if he liked breasts. You were right because Kyojuro was currently salivating at the erotic sight presented in front of him. You half-naked with your (colour) tits lightly bouncing under the white florescent light was such an enticing sight. His eyes held a desperate look as he reached out for a touch before hesitating.

"Don't make me wait." You whined disappointed when his hands stopped midway.

"Apologies my love. I was just in awe of your beauty." Kyojuro murmured before taking time to bask in your lascivious radiance before deciding what to do to you next.

You on the other hand were growing a bit impatient at the pace so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Without thinking too much, you forcefully grabbed both his rough palms and placed them on your soft tits before letting out another lustful moan.

"Use them like this."

Shit. The minute the rough pads of his skin made contact with your soft breasts; he was gone. Kyojuro's ember eyes darkened tenfold as his inexperienced fingers began vigorously fondling and pulling tentatively at both your globes without mercy.

"Hnnnn Rengoku san!" You shamelessly screamed his last name out in pleasure while he stared fascinated at the softness and firmness behind each breast. The man continued to watch you struggle in vain against his touches with a debauched expression on his face as he continued to play with your pillowy tits.

Fuck

Kyojuro had to applaud you for you had single handedly threw his well-thought out plans out the window in a span of a few minutes. He had wanted to tease your pussy first and, but he had no idea how much you enjoyed having your breasts touched. His feral instincts were rampaging, urging him to just bury his face between your swaying tits. To dutifully worship them and so he did.

Fuck plans, this was so much better. The flushed man made sure to maintain intense eye contact with you before sinking down to press his warm face into the deep valley between your heaving breasts. His raging dick was now pulsating with dire need as he greedily inhaled the intoxicating smell of your tits before shamelessly taking one of them into his starving mouth to give it a good hard suck.

"Fucking delicious."

You squealed in pleasure as you felt his tongue teasingly flick against your nipple multiple times before he encircled it with his rough tongue. The man groaned approvingly at how addictive your breasts tasted while increasing the pace of his scalding hot tongue. He ended up latching onto that one breast and sucking like his entire life depended on it. His greedy hands meanwhile hungrily explored your other neglected one.

"How does it feel sweetheart?" The blonde-haired man panted while looking up seductively at you.

"So so good." You slurred, stammering a little because he was now running his thumbs in circles over your rock-hard nipples, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than your growing need for him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yes!" You moaned with lust clouded in your eyes. Before he could say anything else, you daringly pressed his head against your neglected left breast for more attention.

Kyojuro chucked at how adorable you were. You really liked your tits sucked huh? He then closed his eyes and began suckling on your lonely soft globe like a child, while his other hand went up to flick your other nipple with his thumb.

"Hnnn. More." You whined in need. It was becoming so difficult to hold your moans in. Kyojuro was doing such a good job turning you on that your pussy was probably leaking with wetness at this point.

"I want you to cum for me sweetheart."

"But I don't know if I can without your fingers in my-."

"Trust me my love. Cum when I give you the signal ok?"

You shook your head in denial at such a wild thought. Was it even possible? Cumming without his fingers in your cunt? All he did was just fondle and make out a little with your breasts. He hadn't even touched your pussy yet! Your body however was betraying you. You felt your legs beginning to shudder deliriously as you gradually succumbed to your lewd thoughts. Maybe you should trust him.

For Kyojuro, it was such a turn on for him to witness the way you were making desperate little noises against him and how wildly your hips were bucking. Although he didn't have much experience, the charming History teacher's observant eyes could pick up the tell-tale signs of a potential orgasm building up due to his torturous actions. You were almost there, you just needed one final push before you finally come undone.

'You are going to come whether you like it or not (your name).' Kyojuro darkly chuckled to himself before quickly positioning you to stand with your back against him as you watched him touch you from the mirror. He made you lean over the sink as you helplessly watched his large palms giving your poor breasts a few stinging smacks.

"Now, cum for Rengoku Kyojuro!" He growled while pinching hard on both your hardened nipples.

"Yessss!" You squealed in pain and pleasure as your first orgasm coursed through your body like a flowing river.

Kyojuro watched you intently, his eyes widening in lust, his ego soaring to great heights as he smugly watched you squirt your cum all over the mirror. That's right, he was the only one who could make you feel that good.

"Well done my love." He whispered in a low tone before turning you around to face him. Kyojuro then let his mouth drop open to let his saliva drool down his chin to pool on your soft breasts. You watched in a lusty haze as the blistering drops of liquid rolled down both your tits in an erotic manner.

Kyojuro then gave your breasts a gentle kiss before proceeding to massage his saliva into your tits in a circular motion. The blonde-haired man watched in satisfaction as you obediently let him perform such a dirty act on your body. He was feeling quite thankful that the alcohol from earlier was making you so pliant to his selfish whims. Perfect. Now that he had claimed your tits he should focus on claiming your pussy next.

"Rengoku San. Please."

"Kyojuro. Call me Kyojuro."

"Kyojuro."

"Did you enjoy that sweetheart? This is just the beginning you know." The blonde-haired man smirked before passionately kissing you on your bruised lips. You eagerly returned his kisses as you felt the man wrapping his arms around your lower back, to push you even more into him while your tongues pressingly massaged each other's. He was such a good kisser.

"Kyojuro-kun! I'm still- I'm not-" You cried out in pleasure as you felt his thick fingers sliding down your hips in a teasing manner. The man was fully enjoying himself. Slowly but surely, he knew that he was getting closer and closer to the area between your shaking legs.

"Show me how wet you are." He demanded in a commanding tone.

You let out a needy moan when Kyojuro finally found what he was looking for. His fingertips teasingly dragging up and down your wet slit through your soaking panties before he completely slipped them off. You tightened your grip around him while moaning quietly into your lover's ear. Fuck. Kyojuro swore that he could feel your entire body actually tightening and loosening at every little movement he made.

"So wet for me aren't you?" Kyojuro lazily began tracing circles around your juicy opening, while his other hand still continued groping one of your soft tits as he watched you nod weakly. God this was a million times better than in his dreams. At last, it was time for him to explore your inner depths. The golden eyed man took a deep breath before gently plunging one finger experimentally inside your wetness causing you to cry out loudly.

"So fucking tight sweetheart." Kyojuro smirked at you and started to slowly slide his long middle finger in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace. The squelching wet sound of the blonde-haired man fingering you in the bathroom was sending all your senses into overdrive. You didn't know if you could take any more of this torture.

"Please just put it in me already. Please."

Your aching pussy was throbbing painfully with need, as you begged him to just impale you with his dick.

Kyojuro simply smiled and instead of using his cock, he pushed two more of his thick fingers inside you which you gladly received. You felt so full. His fingers eventually began mimicking the frantic actions a penis would make, as if it was his actual penis ramming into your pussy instead.

"Shall I increase the pace, or do you want me to stop?" He playfully smirked at how weak you were to his charms.

"Eat me out."

"Oh?"

The blonde-haired man could hardly believe his ears at your bold request. If anything, it made him even hornier than he was. He immediately halted his actions and removed his cum-covered fingers from your cunt with a loud 'pop' before getting on his knees with a glazed look in his eyes.

"... If that's what you wish."

You looked down panting to see Kyojuro with his eyes closed, eagerly pulling your lower body towards his open and waiting mouth. God it was such a sensual sight that it immediately sent your heart palpitating. You couldn't get enough of how serious he looked. He looked even more attractive looking so concentrated with the task that you had just given him.

"Ah!" You instantly let up a squeak the minute you felt his soft lips pressing butterfly kisses on your damp pussy lips. The man began lazily kissing a circle at the opening of your cunt before settling on flicking his nimble tongue against your fluttering pink pussy lips.

"When was the last time someone ate you out sweetheart." You felt Kyojuro gently hum against your hole before deeply inhaling your sweet musk.

"I-I don't remember. Uh that's so embarrassing Kyojuro." Blushing profusely, you attempted to shield your flustered face from the man who was busy burying his mouth against your wet cunt.

"Keep your legs open for me."

You nodded and shyly opened your legs as wide as you could as you watched the man try to suck in your entire pussy into his hot mouth. This time he had finally found your engorged clit.

"Kyoooo stop please stop! It feels too good!" You cried out while trashing helplessly against the blonde-haired man who firmly pinned your hips down with all his strength.

You tasted so fucking good. Kyojuro's eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he continued teasing your swollen clit with his wet tongue. He could feel your entire body trembling even more and as you began to feel another climax coming.

"Kyojuro please I'm almost-'

"Cum for me." Three simple words and a hard press against your sensitive clit propelled you into another flurry of emotions.

"Ah! Ah! Hn! Ah! Kyojuro!" You let out a loud scream as you came hard into Kyojuro's mouth, painfully gripping the sides of the sink. Explosions rippling throughout your frazzled brain and throbbing cunt.

"Umai! Umai! Umai!"

The golden-haired man eagerly lapped up every drop of the sweet nectar like a starved man.

Somewhere deep in your lust-filled mind, you sincerely hoped that the loud music in the club was loud enough to prevent people from hearing your desperate screams. Kyojuro on the other hand, was thinking otherwise. He wanted everyone in the club to hear you come undone from his lewd actions. Perhaps Tengen was right again. He was probably an exhibitionist...

"Look at how soaked you are my love. Just look at you. I guess you won't be needing these anymore huh?" Kyojuro chuckled as he tried to wipe off as much cum as he could with your panties before stuffing your soaked undergarments into his back pocket.

You panted in sheer exhaustion as you tried to catch your breath from your second orgasm of the night. Your (colour) eyes quickly found his as you flashed him a very satisfied and euphoric look. It was now a fact that Rengoku Kyojuro was the one responsible for giving you the best orgasm in your life even without using his cock yet. Where were your manners? You needed to show him your gratitude.

"Please let me return the favour."

Gods you were so fucking adorable.

Kyojuro felt his heart throb as well as his cock when he allowed you to lead him to the ceramic throne at the corner of the toilet. With one finger, you pushed him to sit his firm ass down on the toilet seat. His eyes watched intensely as you dropped down to unzip his black trousers and release his hard cock out of its tight prison cell.

"Like what you see sweetheart?"

He smirked as he watched his (number) inch cock spring out of its confines and angrily slap the side of your surprised face. You let out an appreciative noise before throwing him the sexiest look you could muster. It was working because his cock was now rock solid.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you proceeded to drag your plump lips down the bottom of Kyojuro's shaft and lightly brushed your teeth on his semen filled balls. His cock was very girthy in size with well-trimmed blonde hairs growing around it. You couldn't resist gently pulling on his blonde pubic hair as you continued lapping him up.

"Stop teasing me."

You gulped as you saw the delicious veins on Kyojuro's forehead growing tauter as he forcefully pressed his hard cock between your soft lips.

So eager.

Pushing your hair back behind your ears, you leaned forward to take Kyojuro's entire cock into your hungry mouth. The blonde-haired man let out a huge sinful groan as soon as he felt your soft lips faintly passing over the head of his cock. The way your tongue danced around his dick was slowly sending shivers of pleasures up his spine. You were such a good cock sucker.

"Fuck."

Kyojuro threw his head back in pleasure and was hit with the sudden need to grab something. The man's eyes glinted dangerously as he couldn't resist reaching out to blindly grope your naked tits. This time, it was your turn to moan.

"Ah!"

It must have been such a sinful sight. You on the floor moaning heavily with Kyojuro's massive cock inside your mouth and him with his hands pawing at your tits. Your needy moans were continuously sending out delicious vibrations reverberating through his sensitive shaft before you peeked at your lover who looked like he was in complete bliss.

"Your mouth feels so fucking good." Kyojuro groaned as he watched you suck hungrily on his large and angry dick. You smiled coltishly in return and began increasing the speed. The blonde-haired History teacher fixated on you as you began bobbing back and forth on his hard cock, eager to please him for taking such good care of you earlier.

It was at this point that Kyojuro couldn't take it anymore, he violently grabbed your hair and started rutting into your mouth like a frenzied beast.

"Oh (your name). That's it love, take it all for me!" He groaned as he felt as if a missile hit him in the gut and exploded. His creamy hot seed began pouring out from his cock into your eager awaiting mouth. You did your best to swallow every drop while still maintaining eye contact with the man.

"That was amazing." Kyojuro panted breathing hard as his eyes focused on you wiping the side of your face with the back of your hand. He had no idea that you could suck cock like that.

This wasn't over yet. You on the other hand were still very much aroused. "I need you inside me!” You half-cried out in lust as you tried in vain to sit on top of the blonde man. This was too much, you needed him in you now.

Kyojuro simply sat back on the toilet seat, crimson eyes watching you in amusement as you attempted to coax his dick back to its maximum hardness with your tantalizing fingers.

You were so fucking adorable. So eager for his cock.

"Please Kyojuro. I want your cock." You begged with tears glistening at the corners of your eyes as you tried lowering your dripping pussy onto Kyojuro's towering erection.

This was the scene he had been waiting for all these years.

Absolutely breath taking.

The man let out a small hiss as soon as he felt the tip of his cock entering your tight wetness. Instead of pulling you down on his angry cock, he abruptly forced himself to stand up causing you to topple backwards in shock. Before you could fall unceremoniously on your back, you felt Kyojuro's strong arms pulling you back into his chiseled chest.

"What the f-!"

Just when you were about to give him a piece of your mind, Kyojuro made you look him in the eye and apologised.

"Sweetheart. You have no idea how much I want to sink my cock into you right now but wouldn't you prefer to be fucked in my bed?" He huskily bit the top part of your ear causing you to fall to your knees.

Kyojuro smirked at your reaction as he endearingly watched your expression change from anger to embarrassment to lust. He then continued whispering all the dirty things he was going to do to you and made a promise to fulfill all your fantasies at his place. Your white-hot anger quickly subsided as his words left your pussy even wetter with anticipation.

"But before that, let's get you dressed sweetheart." Kyojuro gently smiled as he busied himself by buttoning up his shirt and pulling his trousers back on.

You nodded hazily as you let him 'respectfully' put your attire back on. No guy has ever done this for you before. He was such a gentleman.

Before leaving the toilet, he made sure to straighten his tie in the mirror while looking over his shoulder to watch you eyeing him with lust-clouded eyes.

"What about my... bra and...-"

"Oh those? You're going to walk back to my place without them."

"What?" You stuttered in embarrassment.

A look of slight irritation quickly passed over Kyojuro’s face the moment he saw that you were about to protest like a spoilt brat when the deafening sound of the familiar EDM music completely drowned your voice out.

The blonde-haired man made sure to swing open the door and offered you an arm with a charming smile on his face. His dark eyes beckoning you towards him while any form of protest immediately died on your lips the minute you stepped out into the noisy hallway. Feeling a bit embarrassed and defeated, you reluctantly allowed him to lead you out of the club without your undergarments which weren't properly concealed in his back pocket.

Of course, Kyojuro wasn't going to make it easy for you. After all, he still needed to punish you for that little stunt you pulled earlier.

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berenwrites · 11 months

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Beyond the Battle - Chapter 9 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 9. Verdicts

Dustin got told off by just about everyone but seemed mostly unrepentant. By the time lunch was over, Steve wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or thankful. Dustin’s little experiment had proved a valid point, a useful one too. It didn’t really help Steve’s peace of mind, however.

El and Will had been up for helping him figure out if he had other powers too, and possibly the other way round, but Joyce and Robin had ganged up and point blank refused to let him. Robin had gone on a long rant about hypothermia and its aftereffects, and she’d been building up to dissect bringing Eddie back from the Upside Down as well, so he’d caved.

He was feeling much more with it and even Eddie seemed to be managing to stay awake, but he could occasionally be made to see sense.

“Sorry about earlier,” Dustin said quietly as El and Eddie had a talk a few feet away. “Maybe I should have waited.”

“It’s fine,” he said, bumping their shoulders together. “Kind of good to know, but at this rate I’m going to have to go on another grocery run because I’m eating enough for three people.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Dustin said with a grin.

“Do not even joke about shit like that, Henderson,” he replied. “With how plain weird everything is at the moment, I refuse to take the risk.”

“It’s not weird, it’s cool,” Dustin told him.

“It’s weird,” Steve insisted.

“You have powers, dude,” Dustin insisted right back, “that is awesome in my book. You can heal people. Do you know how next level that is? Even El can’t do that.”

“She can, kind of,” he disagreed. “It’s probably just she hasn’t used that part of what she can do much.”

“Steve, you’ve had powers for three days and you already brought Eddie back from the dead,” Dustin said.

“Eddie wasn’t dead and El brought Max back too,” he pointed out.

“The way El tells it, she restarted Max’s heart,” Dustin said, “and what Eddie told me is he was nearly dead a second time when you fixed him. You fixed my ankle too. It’s like brand new.”

It seemed Steve was not going to win this discussion.

“Still weird,” he said, even though Dustin’s point of view kind of helped a little.

The kid was so upbeat and passionate about everything. Some of that spark had been subdued ever since Eddie died, but it was clearly back with a vengeance. No doubt, when Dustin thought he could get away with it, Steve would find himself bombarded with questions so he could be analysed by the young genius. It was as inevitable as taxes and dying.

“May I?” he heard El ask, dragging his attention to the conversation she was having with Eddie.

“Have at it, Supergirl,” Eddie replied, placing his hands in hers.

Both of them closed their eyes and sat there, perfectly still for a while. Steve hadn’t caught what they were doing, but they looked serene doing it. That was until El smiled and then giggled. She opened her eyes at the same time Eddie did.

“You are funny,” she said, still smiling.

“I do my best,” Eddie replied. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“There is no trace of Henry left,” El said, expression turning serious again, “but I sense something other, something from the Upside Down. It is very faint, but it is there.”

“Forever tainted then,” Eddie said as if he had been expecting something like that.

“It does not feel bad,” El told him. “You are just different now. Like I am different, and Will and Steve. We can be different together.”

“Not like anyone ever called me normal anyway,” Eddie replied, giving El a smile, but Steve could see the tension in the other man’s shoulders.

He could understand that completely.

~*~

Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle stuck around until mid-afternoon before taking their leave once it was clear, much to Steve’s chagrin, that Robin and Joyce had everything covered. It took another meal, some quiet talking, and El yawning widely for Joyce, Hopper, El and Will to call it a day, along with Dustin who they were going to drop off at his home.

Joyce made Steve promise that he wouldn’t do anything strenuous until at least the next day. Hopper stood there all but glaring at him over Joyce’s shoulder until he gave in.

“It’s almost like they know you, Steve,” Robin said and laughed at him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he complained.

“She is,” came from the direction of the couch where Eddie seemed to have almost taken root, “that’s why she’s ganging up on you.”

“There’s nothing left to do,” Steve pointed out.

“Just give it up, Dingus,” Robin said. “You can reinitiate mother hen mode tomorrow. After all, at some point there are going to be at least one more delegation descending on this place as soon as Dustin spills the beans.”

“Hey, I promised to wait until Eddie said it was ok,” Dustin protested.

“It’s okay,” Eddie piped up, “just wait for tomorrow. I know what the rest of you gremlins are like. Midnight visits will be met with disdain.”

“Thanks for everything,” Steve said as everyone filed out the door.

“You are welcome, Steve,” El said and swooped in for a hug. “Do not worry, we will all figure this out together.”

She squeezed him tight, so he squeezed back.

“You give the best hugs,” he said. “Thank you.”

“We’ll give you a call in the morning,” Hopper said and placed a hand on his upper arm.

It was just as normal, warm gesture, but he full body shuddered.

“Steve!” Robin yelped, grabbing for him before he could fall over his own feet.

His eyes met Hopper’s and the momentary panic was obvious.

“Sorry, I’m okay,” he assured Robin, “just moved too fast. Not quite back to full speed yet.”

“You’re sure?” Robin asked.

“Perfectly, just taking after you for a while,” he replied.

“Next time I’ll let you fall on your face,” she grouched back, but did sound happier about the whole situation.

“Get some rest, all three of you,” Joyce said, “and if you need anything, call.”

“Thank you, we will,” Steve assured her.

“See you tomorrow,” Dustin said and also dived in for a hug. “I expect a proper handshake next time.”

“As long as I am not wrapped in a towel when you arrive, I promise,” he replied, playing up to Dustin’s tone.

It felt good to hug everyone before they headed to their vehicle and climbed in. Steve smiled and waved as the group departed with Robin beside him, doing the same.

“Okay,” she said the moment the Byers et al disappeared down the driveway, “spill. What was that really about?”

“Let’s go inside,” he said, turning and leading her back in.

“Why do you two look worried,” Eddie asked from the couch.

Eddie might have been awake, but he was still wrapped up like a burrito.

“Steve, what happened out there?” Robin insisted.

Steve sat down, going over it in his head. Robin let him get away with it for a few moments.

“Steve,” she said in a low tone.

“Give me a sec,” he said, because he was still parsing what had happened.

She sat down next to him, but he could tell she was impatient. Given what he had put her through over the last day, he was not surprised.

“Okay,” he said eventually, “y’know how you think I’m bad at asking for help, even when I’m hurt?”

“You’re the worst,” Robin said.

“Yeah, no,” he replied, “I think Hop has me beat.”

“He looked fine,” Eddie put in.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve replied. “that’s what makes it even more worrying. I think whatever happened to him in Russia left him in pain, like permanently.”

“You mean you felt that when he touched you?” Robin asked.

“Kind of,” he did his best to explain. “It was more whatever this instinct I have is, when Hop put his hand on my arm, it sat up and took notice, like big time. I didn’t have time to really feel it or even figure out what it really is, but I know it was there.”

“Are all jock types martyrs?” Robin asked with a shake of her head. “It’s gotta be a genetic defect, right?”

“Alpha male shit,” Eddie said.

Steve groaned and put his head back on the couch cushions because he could tell Robin and Eddie were about to go off on one. Sometimes he wondered what miraculous deed he had done in another life to deserve Robin and at others he wondered which deity he had pissed off.

~*~

Steve was mostly asleep when someone tapped on his foot. He’d made sure Robin and Eddie were comfortable in the spare rooms before heading to his own. It had taken quite a while, probably a good hour and a half, to convince his brain from going over everything from the day, even though he was tired. Opening his eyes, he looked to the end of his bed and saw a familiar silhouette.

“Can I come in?” Eddie asked in a shaky, small voice.

Steve didn’t hesitate, lifting the far side of the comforter and shuffling towards the wall.

“If you snore, I will smother you with a pillow,” he said into the awkward silence.

“I would expect nothing less,” Eddie replied in what Steve was pretty sure was supposed to be a nonchalant tone but didn’t quite hit the mark.

Once Eddie had climbed in, Steve turned his back on the other man, but scooted a little closer until they were just touching. He knew the sound of night terrors in someone’s voice, and he also knew the best cure. Robin and he had shared a bed on more than one occasion since Starcourt and it was human touch that worked, more than anything else. For a moment Eddie froze, but when Steve didn’t move again, Eddie slowly relaxed.

They both needed the sleep and Steve drifted off pretty quickly after that, Eddie’s presence a help in quieting the turbulent thoughts in his brain. “Jesus Christ, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” were the words he woke up to being hissed like a mantra.

End of Chapter 9

Chapter 10

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st:beyond-the-battle #fanfic #post season 4 #vampire eddie #hurt/comfort #vampire eddie munson #platonic stobin #psychic stuff #steve harrington has powers

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0aurelion-sol0 · 5 months

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While the theories/analyses in the works are still in the drafts, I just wanted to share some thoughts about what might & will happen today for Stranger Things Day (the 2023 edition). Lovely promotional art btw!

Now I'm not super-duper excited about all of it but, (in fact much of ST related content hasn't excited me for a while now) but that isn't the point, I appreciate a throwback, not thursday but monday in that case.

I think it's a good move on their part, especially for stories that are culturally significant, to return & go back through the whole journey that happened before the finish line; mainly becauses it engages the audience in revisiting in a way that's helpful for people who don't have the time to rewatch all of it & also really being part of the moment that's happening. In the sense that they are being stimulated via their own experiences & memories of it, & that is always good. Especially if most of it is positive.

And I enjoy the way they've done the marketing about pre-Season 5 so far, it's present but not overwhelming & has certain subtleties to it like in for the new ice cream flavours for example. It's all a bit creepy yet familiar, I enjoy it.

Nooooow... I also did not finish some of my theories, that I could have dropped because they were very much shorter than usual & I don't think they were about things that would have been easily disproved faster than I would've liked to be but you never know. If it's to drop something that's going to be proven false in 2 days, there's no point in dropping it anyway.

Do I think we're going to get a lot from this ST Day ? No. Apart from possibly them giving us the episode titles of the final season which I doubt because it seems a bit early for me & new infos on the play which... we already have covered enough for me, I think 🤔 & believe it or not, the new things I hears about it are quite intriguing & reassuring, so that's nice! but apart from that, I don't think we're going to get much.

With the strikes that happened & that are ongoing, the writing that to my knowledge has yet to be completed & filming that hasn't even started, I don't really see what we could get.

Now I could be completely wrong, there might be something huge in stores or multiple things that are going to be revealed.

My wish would be to have a new video game, specifically a horror one that's slightly abstract & psychological. First person too! But a follow-up to the ST arcade games, 1984 & 3 covering Season 4 would be nice to. And we're not at a point where we can get an open-world ST game so I'm not asking.

Perhaps some new comics or books, they're always nice to me, canon or not. Maybe some merch, though I'm not a big ST merch lover, not that it's bad, I'm just not really interested in most of it.

Now given the revisiting aspect plus other elements of this day speaks to me plus works with some of the theories I've been working on, oh yes! Here's what I'm most excited to get into soon is:

- a return to Season 2, (Season 1's chaotic little sister but who follows in her footsteps & admires her very much) they've been pushing the fandom to revisit this season for Season 5 and I'm very eager to see what they are going to push forward about it given the fact they called it underrated which THEY ARE RIGHT! The fandom does not appreciate this season enough plus has a delusional hate towards "The Lost Sister" which is a fine episode. And it has Will as a main protagonist with a heavy focus on the Byers, with an interesting take on a Lovecraftian menace, so how can you not appreciate it ? So yeah, that's that.

Next, to my own surprise: - "The First Shadow", yes I did not expect myself to be as interested right now as I am about this given what it covers but the more the crew talks about it & the more new elements about it come out, the more I think there's truly something worth our time & engagement here. First, good news, it's definitely not mandatory to watch it for Season 5 which is good, secondly, it's going to be a retelling and a new exploration of events & characters in the past which is always nice and definitely something we need after Season 4 & finally, actual nuances & complexities for the character of Henry Creel, finally! cause I can't take the characterization & the writing of his character that's been done in Season 4. (Though I heard he may have a romance, which I hope it is not the case, because one of the very few positives of his character is that there was absolutely no romance attached to his character compared to the rest so I really hope it does not happen...) So let's see what this play will do & what it might save going into Season 5 because it does look promising.

After that, we have the messy & campy one, the - return to Season 3: now I know what the fandom thinks of this season & while I agree it's far from perfect & turned many aspects of ST for the worse, the campiness & over the top aspect of certain elements works for what it's talking about & paying hommage to. It has it's own charm & has to me the better horror elements of ST so far or at least the better result; the antagonists were just fantastic to me plus the monster is one of the coolest. So it has still a lot in it that's very enjoyable, plus Scoops Troop is probably the best group of the show.

Now it's turned upside-down which likely means that putting it this way compared to the other was intentional and all I can think of about is that it's supposed to hint at again that weird nature of Season 3 that's different compared to most of the other seasons (mostly... *cough* Season 4 *cough*) and that they may point to it in some way. There's a lot of themes, choices & story elements of Season 3 that remains unanswered & vague, quite "meta" in fact. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps not since these elements, sometimes negative & which already started to appear in Season 2 are right now impossible for me to give a straight answer because The Duffers have not been reassuring about this part of their writing to say the least. So we will see how it turns out but it could be interesting.

Next we have to return to Season 1: which we can all agree is still the best written season of Stranger Things to date, it is by definition a masterpiece but I am not excited as perhaps others to return to it because they haven't done a good job following on the quality of it plus having a true continuity with the stories & themes it started and the way they explored those. I am afraid of more retcons they could pull with that season which clearly hints & answers different mysteries of it in a way that's completely different to what the latest seasons have given us plus not put forward all the storylines they've left in the mud for it's characters that aren't about romance.

It's always a pleasure going back to this season but if it's to justify the mistakes of the latest season, they can keep it. We need to the actual better parts & elements of that season. The photography, the cinematography, the music, the themes & ambience of it, the characters & the way they're explored... If not, there's no point.

And finally, the one I don't care for, the return to Season 4: I'm not going to repeat what I've already said about this season, most people know & you probably have already guessed what I feel about it but I truly feel it's the only really true mediocre content ST has given me so far. I will not act like it's the worst thing in the world because it would be simply not true but it has more bad than good and when it's bad, it's really bad. Not even a gorgeous usage of Kate Bush will save it for me (it ruins it itself... 🤭). I don't hate it like I used to anymore but I'm still very much annoyed by it.

Between retcons, uninteresting developments & characters, regressions, missed opportunities and an AMPLIFICATION of the worst aspects of Season 3 plus unnecessary long for what it has to say, I just haven't been able to appreciate any of it one year later. And I don't think I ever will, not even if the final season is a f*cking masterpiece & save what it did. Perhaps as a part of a whole series if the ending really makes up for it but alone, it's horrible to go through.

So yeah, that's it. They probably already started by the time I've finished and dropped this post but it's okay, I have fully accepted that time is not really my friend anymore. X) I hope y'all have a good day and hopefully we will get interesting stuff & surprises.

#stranger things #stranger things day #st day #stranger things: the first shadow #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5

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horanghaechan · 2 years

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LOVER (M.G) - Chapter 1

pairing: Michael Gray x original female character chapter: 1 pov: written in 3rd person genre: ‘rivals to lovers’, romance, mature content/smut, fluffy? warnings: S3 spoilers, non canon stuff. main character is BRAZILIAN therefore, there are references to 1920's brazil. keep in mind that the world at that time wasn't like the world we live nowadays, so there are offensive behaviours along the story. read at your own risk. english is not my first language, so any mistakes please tell me <3 disclaimer: this is the english translation of my portuguese fic 'Lover', based on Taylor Swift songs and Peaky Blinders S1-S3. This is PURE fanfiction.

Birmingham, England, 1921

The auction was unbearable. Marie still didn’t feel completely comfortable with her fiancé’s group of friends, neither with him. Robert Pearson was the only son and heir of one of the most competitive companies in Europe: Pearson & Co., responsible for almost 20% of fabric production across the continent. It’s not that she didn’t like Mr. Pearson... But she wasn’t in love with him, and at times, she thought him extremely childish – even though she was only 18 years old and wasn’t in a position to judge other people’s maturity. And so, a deal was a deal. Unfortunately, she had made one and had to stick to the terms.

She always kept her word, just as her father had taught her.

“This is an Arabian.” Robert spoke close to her ear. “He is highly rated for being the son of the last two consecutive winners of the Queen’s race.”

“Oh, he’s very handsome.” Marie nodded, enchanted by the animal’s fur shining.

“The next one is a Quarter Horse, which I particularly feel most interested in. He may not have the genetic advantage of the thoroughbred, but I believe that with proper training he will be the best competitor.” He smiled. “And I want to get into that business.”

“We can have both, what do you think? That way you’d have options to choose as the best racing one, and I could keep the other.” She looked at him.

Robert seemed to appreciate the idea, for he nodded and his blue eyes gleamed with curiosity. He was a handsome man, he truly was... And Marie would have a comfortable life by his side… She would eventually come to love him, right?

How many marriages started just as a mere contract and ended up being perfect, book-like love stories?! Thousands!

Perhaps, if she repeated it over and over again, she’d begin to believe it.

Besides, she couldn’t back out. Her father had given her a chance, they had a deal. She’d had the opportunity to avoid all that.

With a sigh, Maria Clara leaned against the windowsill, resting her chin on one hand. Her eyes left the Arabian horse Robert was bidding on and roamed the entire room. Almost like a magnetic force, her attention was drawn to the cabin ahead of her, at the far end of the room. That’s when she saw him.

His profile looked like the closest descendant of Apollo on Earth.

Or... Well, she wasn’t sure there was any deity described with such beauty.

Maria Clara wished she could use the binoculars to better analyse him. But from where she was, and just from his side profile, she had no doubt that he was attractive and charming. At first, the beret was what intrigued her the most, because she used to hate such accessory… However, on him… God, it looked like Apollo’s laurel wreath! The dark grey suit, so different from the beige one Robert wore, made him stand out even though the people around him wore similar colours. Marie’s eyes widened and her breath caught as the stranger brought a cigarette to his mouth – another thing she loathed, but coming from him it looked like a blessing. Apollo probably drank amber just as gracefully.

She should stop comparing him to the Greek god.

Applauses indicated that the American Quarter Horse had entered. It was truly splendid, a bright hazelnut brown and with a mane that looked like it was softer than a cotton flake. Apollo’s replica leaned against the ledge, also interested in the animal – which was walking around the pavilion. It gave Marie an opportunity to see him better. She noticed the round and deep eyes, full lips, high cheekbones and harmonious nose.

Even at distance, she knew he exuded masculinity.

Alright, in her head Apollo would be tanned and green-eyed... But if Apollo had a British version, he’d be exactly like that man... Assuming he was English, of course.

“The thoroughbred is yours.” Robert stood beside her again. “We can check it out at the stable once the auction is over.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Marie nodded, longing for the end.

The bidding began, and Fake Apollo turned to someone, talking.

Unlike Marie, whose mind was wandering far away, Robert was in pure agony. He’d bought two horses — one for himself and one for Marie — so his budget was reduced, which meant less money to get the Quarter Horse. And his father had been adamant about what he would spend in his son’s ‘hobbies’. Mr. Pearson was completely against Robert getting involved in racing, so he limited himself to cutting back on investments. In fact, he had only agreed to let them go to Birmingham because Maria Clara had shown some interest in it.

The numbers were already high, making Robert desperate. Why the hell was he so impulsive?! He didn’t need the Arabian... And yet, he bought it. Now he was in danger of not having enough to afford the only horse he actually wanted. When the bid reached £145, he felt like hitting someone. He lost.

“My, my.” Stanford spoke a little too loudly. “I would give up now, Pearson.”

“Why’s that?” Robert looked at his friend, finding the latter looking at the cabin in front of them, but at the other side.

“The bay was bought by the Peaky Blinders. No one will be able to beat their £200 offer.” Stanford blinked in disbelief. He shouldn’t be surprised, after all, the gang was well-known by people who liked racing; and rumours indicated that they were getting richer and richer. “And I advise you not to mess with any of them.”

“With whom?” Robert tried not to sound so arrogant. Regardless of who those men were, he was a Pearson; and well, that said a lot in England.

Stanford gave him a brief resume of the gang, and while listening, Robert began scheming how he could use it to his favours. He needed that horse… And he’d have it.

Nearly forty minutes later, the action was finished. Starting on his new plan, Robert encouraged Marie to head to the stables alone and check on the Arabian they’ve bought. With the help of an employee to guide her, she followed his suggestion.

“Here it is, my lady.” The man indicated the horse’s stall.

“Thanks.” She smiled, handing him a tip. “I can take it from here.”

“Isn’t it better to call our ostler? These breeds tend to be a little nervous...”

“No, no. I have experience with irritable animals.” Marie opened the small fence. Back in Brazil, she used to help the farm workers with the cattle and to train her family’s dogs and stubborn toucan.

The man felt compelled to insist but decided on not creating havoc and respecting the girl’s decision. Luckily, as he was leaving, Tommy Shelby entered the stable looking for his Quarter Horse. Nothing safer for a woman than being in the company of a Blinder, huh...

“Hey there, big boy.” Maria Clara greeted the horse in Portuguese, approaching him very cautiously. She looked around, trying to spot something that could be used as a ‘reward’ if he let her touch him. “How are you?”

Tommy stopped next to the door, ears curious and unaccustomed to that language.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Maria Clara, your new owner.” She smiled pleasantly. “But since we’ll be friends soon, you can call me ‘Marie’.”

Marie.

Huh, that Tommy understood.

“Well, I need to find you some treats, right? And we should also give you a name, for I’ve already introduced myself.” Marie winked at the horse, not feeling the slightest shame for talking to something that couldn’t reply back. “Excuse me?” She asked in English, returning to the stable aisle. “Is anybody here that…”

The sentence died in her throat as she turned to face the entrance. The British Apollo was practically at the next stall door!

Seeing him up close, Maria Clara didn’t know how she kept standing. The man was abnormally handsome. Now she could take in that well-sculpted jaw, the thick mouth and those eyes… The brightest blue eyes she’d ever had the pleasure of staring at.

Like the sea in Arraial do Cabo, Greece, the Italian coast…

She could drown in any of them, especially in that British ocean.

“Need any help?” The deep voice made her stomach clench. Marie noticed that his accent was more pronounced than Robert’s. Apollo’s Copy wasn’t from London, then.

“I’d like it, yes.” Marie swallowed hard, praying she wouldn’t stutter or make a faux pas. “I say, need it. Do you perhaps know where I can find any horse treat?”

“They usually stay hidden in the corner of the stall.” Tommy started to walk, but stopped when he realized it might be perceived as a rude behaviour. The girl clearly was a foreigner, judging by her near-American accent. “I mean, can I come in?”

“Sure.” She nodded. “By all means.”

He entered the stall so sure of sharing the space with a thoroughbred that Maria Clara couldn’t even analyse the horse’s reaction. Her attention was all fixed in the way his shoulders adequately filled out the well-tailored suit. After picking up a bag from the end of the barn, Fake Apollo walked back to her. He removed his beret and she was met with the sight of dark hair shaved at the bottom, a style she remembered being called ‘undercut’.

“Lumps of sugar.” Tommy handed her the snack. “So, you got the Arab one.”

“I did.” Taking a cube of the candy, she struggled to face the horse.

“He’s a handsome Arabian, very tall, too.” That accent... Good God!

“Apollo.” She spoke quietly, without even realizing it.

“Apollo?” Ocean blue eyes turned to her.

“Oh.” Marie sucked on one cheek, as she always did when she was embarrassed, and prayed she wasn’t blushing. “It’s his name. Powerful and beautiful, like the Greek god.”

“It’s a pity the god’s not Moor.” Not even Tommy could believe at his lame pun.

“Nor the horse Greek.” Marie giggled. “A toast to us both, Apollo. May the union between Brazil and England be prosperous!” She joked, still speaking in English. It would be rude to change languages while the British Apollo (the human) was paying attention.

The horse ate the sugar, letting out a characteristic huff of satisfaction.

“He seems pretty easy to bribe for a hot-blood breed.” Tommy commented.

“I believe my ‘calming’ aura helps...” She looked over her shoulder at him as she picked up another cube. “Or it could be the sugar. I also feel more conniving after a sweet treat.” This time, Marie ventured to stroke the animal’s neck.

Tommy was about to reply when they were interrupted by the arrival of two ostlers, who were carrying the cell and other gears of Shelbys’ new horse.

“Mr. Shelby,” One of the men spoke. “We’ll meet you at the entrance gate as soon as we finish preparing your horse.”

“Thanks.” Tommy put on his beret. “It was a pleasure, Miss...”

Marie tensed, trying to choose which last name would be easier to use.

“Barbosa.” She decided to go with the surname her father used more. “Marie Barbosa. And the pleasure was all mine, sir.”

“Shelby.” He offered. “Tommy Shelby.”

“Delighted, Mr. Shelby.” Marie bowed slightly.

“Miss Barbosa. Apollo.” And with a tug on his hat, he was gone.

While Maria Clara and Tommy were chatting amicably, Robert Pearson was dealing with the Peaky Blinders. After trying to buy the bay twice, he gave up.

“I need that horse!” Robert grumbled. “My fiancée...”

“Does she like to ride?” John didn’t hide the double meaning, smirking.

“Of course!” Robert replied, annoyed. And only then he understood. “Ah, that’s not what I mean!” He waved a hand. “I happened to buy the Arabian for her.”

“Congratulations. We don’t want the Arab one and I can’t think why you’d need a quarter mile when you have it.” Arthur pointed out.

“I propose a trade.” Robert’s heart raced. He wasn’t even remotely used to bargaining for the things he wanted – not because he was rich, but because he was capable enough to get them if he set his mind to it.

“We don’t trade, mate. But if you’re really that desperate, we can make a bet.” John looked down the hall. “After all, we’re talking about racehorses, aren’t we?”

Stanford had warned him about what might happen if he got too close to the Peaky Blinders, but… He was in love with the bay... And furious that those pompous gangsters had taken the animal when he wanted it first!

“What are we going to bet?” Pearson swallowed his fear and Arthur grinned.

“The Quarter Horse, of course. This Saturday we have a race, you choose a horse and if it wins, then it’ll be yours. However, if it loses... In addition to the bay, we want your thoroughbred.” John feigned indifference. “And your fiancée, since she likes to ride.”

Arthur’s laugh sent a chill down Robert’s spine, but nothing compared to John’s cynical smile. He knew what had to be done... And he’d do it.

In another life, perhaps.

“Deal.” He offered his hand to John, who shook it. “I’m Robert Pearson and here’s my business card. I’ll be in Birmingham until Monday.”

The hallway was occupied by Tommy Shelby, who just touched the tip of his beret as he passed Robert and looked at the brothers, indicating the door.

“Tommy, Tommy,” Arthur mused. “looks like John finally got himself a wife!”

And they disappeared, leaving Robert Pearson with a ticking timebomb.

Opportunities didn’t fall from the sky, Tommy had learned about it during the war. So, after his brothers explained the situation to him with the bet and the horse… It was a huge opportunity! He could already imagine several contracts signed only through association to Pearson and his group (or maybe blackmail, if necessary), several doors being opened just because of their interaction…

However, the fiancée thing was a touchy subject.

“John, about the girl,” He cleared his throat. “the Lees and I reached an agreement. For definitive peace, we thought we’d join forces... And as you needed a wife and they needed a husband, we planned a wedding. It is beneficial for everyone involved.”

John stilled. At first, he wanted to yell at his brother and punch him in the face. But on the other hand, Tommy wasn’t completely senile: he did say he wanted a wife, he’d even chosen a potential one (which the family didn’t approve of), and he didn’t intend to stop looking for one now. But to marry someone he had never seen? That was a little too much, wasn’t it?! They were modern men, for fuck sakes!

“Am I to wed a girl I’ve never seen?”

“Did you happen to see Pearson’s fiancée?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“No.” John scratched the back of his head, a little disconcerted.

“Then it’s settled.” Tommy lightly slapped the table as if giving a verdict.

“But what will we do with Pearson’s girl?” Arthur asked.

“We’ll investigate her and if we find something worth of keeping, we’ll do it. I suppose she’s a peerage or at least from some upper household, so she’s well-mannered and quite naive… And probably has connections.” Tommy lit a cigarette. “The Pearsons wouldn’t let anyone have anything to do with them if they don’t have good things to offer back.”

“Nor will let anyone go away like this.” Polly raised an eyebrow.

“That, Aunt Pol, ain’t our problem. We made a bet, the deal was sealed and if we win, there’s no argument.” He sat down. “Now, off to work, brothers.”

“And when is my wedding?” John questioned.

“This saturday, after the race.”

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

Apollo was a lovely, lovely horse. Marie had spent every day after the auction with him, trying to accustom him to her presence and earning his trust. But that Saturday she didn’t have time to visit. She had agreed to be Robert’s date of the race, and, as absurd as it sounded... She’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Fake Apollo... Or Tommy Shelby, as he went by.

Being Brazilian, she was having a bit of trouble adapting her style to the British fashion. Not that there were many differences, but things in Brazil followed the French fashion, which, historically, was not well-seen in England. The only rule she refused to follow (in any of them) was the stupid hat. She only wore it when extremely necessary – which was not as often as some ladies liked. Whenever she could, she prioritized a fascinator instead (those hair arrangements, resembling tiaras or feathers). After rummaging through her clothes, she ended up with a white dress with pleated skirt, the ‘built-in’ belt all embroidered in silver gemstones and a white velvet shawl for her shoulders. The fascinator, then, was a delicate version of the belt, which looked more like a brooch than a tiara, and Marie pinned it to the side of her hair.

When Robert arrived to pick her up, he looked ridiculously anxious. She turned a blind eye to it, for she knew it would do no good to ask him to stop bouncing his leg or sighing loudly like a worried old lady. She would never understand the appeal of gambling and races of any sort… Nor how it could turn a man into a mess.

As soon as they arrived at Epsom, she noticed how crowded it was near the betting stalls. Among various hats, Maria Clara caught a glimpse of a group of berets. She tried to hide her hopeful, curious smile. Would Tommy Shelby remember her?

Lady Tumblewood, Robert’s best friend’s wife and an extremely pleasant lady, was there, so Marie wouldn’t be alone most of the time. As the men huddled in a corner, yelling and drinking, the two sat at a secluded table to sip champagne and talk. It’s not that Maria Clara hated races, but she would rather ride horses than watch them race.

The hours dragged by, and Robert was getting more and more nervous. His anxiety seemed to have reached its peak, for he couldn’t keep himself still, staring worriedly at the place of bets and the paper he was holding.

“I’ll go get a drink." Marie announced. "Would you join me, Lady Tumblewood?”

“Of course, Lady Barbosa.” The girl smiled, and Maria Clara gave up explaining (for the billionth time) that she was no longer a ‘Lady’, since the aristocracy had been cut off from Brazil after the 1889’s Coup.

It now made no difference that her grandfather had been the last Marquis of Valença, and her great-grandfather had been a close friend of Emperor Dom Pedro II and other important names in Brazilian history, such as the Duke of Caxias.

“Now that we’re alone,” Theodora looked at her, excited after her second drink. “Have you heard of the Birmingham gang?! I suppose I should fear them, but I’m curious! You don’t hear much about gangs in London... Well, not in our circle, anyway.”

“Gang?” Marie frowned. “‘Gang’ as in...”

“Yes, thieves, cheaters and all the rest!” Theodora’s blue eyes sparkled.

“Lord Louis told you that?” She was shocked.

“Yes! And it seems Stanford warned Robert about the Blinders, too… I think that’s the name of the gang. Also, if you say their leader’s last name, the whole city changes.”

“Really?” Marie chuckled. Well, apparently England and Brazil weren’t that different: both used the ‘Do you know who you’re talking to?’ tactic.

“Really! It’s Thomas Sheldon... Shelley... Shelby, something like that.” Thea waved a hand, and at the sound of the last name, the bartender seemed to freeze. “They say he’s even done business with the police!” Her eyes widened, thrilled with the whole story.

“You shouldn’t…” The man started, startled. “Mr. Shelby!”

Oh.

Maria Clara turned, seeing Fake Apollo a few steps away from her. To her surprise, he wasn’t alone: Robert and two other men were with him.

“Robert?” Marie frowned, puzzled. He looked a bit sick.

“Marie!” Robert forced a smile. “I-I brought… I want to introduce you to…” He couldn’t finish the speech for he was mortified. “My dear fiancée…” He took her hand.

“Miss Barbosa.” Tommy bowed his head. “So ‘tis you Mr. Pearson’s fiancée?! What a surprise, eh.” He glared at the duo behind him. “Now you put me in a difficult position.”

“Oh, well.” The one that seemed younger mischievously smiled, analysing her up and down. “So, this the bride, Mr. Pearson?!”

“Will yours be prettier?” The tall and skinny one asked.

The other grimaced at the question, as if remembering something unpleasant.

“I hope so.” He grunted. “But I’ll only find out if we get there in time. Therefore, you need to come with us, dear fiancée. We’re running late!”

“What?” Maria Clara frowned, slightly offended by the suggestion and the nickname. She’d never seen the two of them (and she had met Tommy, but it wasn’t enough), so why...

“I met Miss Barbosa during the auction, and I’d like you two to be more considerate of the lady. She’s the owner of the Arabian thoroughbred.” Tommy spoke. “These are my brothers, Arthur and John.” He indicated the duo.

“Oh, your brothers?!” Maria Clara tried to sound amiable. “Do they know Apollo?”

“What’s going on here, Robert? Where do you know these gentlemen from?” Theodora asked what Marie was dying to say aloud.

At the sound of ‘gentlemen’, Arthur and John burst out laughing.

“I… Listen, Marie,” Robert held her hand. “the day we bought Apollo and I couldn’t get the American Quarter... I was furious. I made a mistake on impulse, something I shouldn’t have done and I’m not sure I’ll live to apologize enough.”

“Haven’t you told her yet?” The one with the moustache interrupted him.

“Told me what, exactly?”

“T-Thea, darling, please go get Stanford and Louis.” Robert pleaded.

“Robert, what the hell is going on here?” Marie grunted.

“He bet you and... Apollo, right?! Well, he bet you two in exchange for the bay. Unfortunately for Robert, and luckily for us, her fiancé lost.” The man spoke in a very thick accent, which made Marie wonder if she had understood him correctly.

Straightening her posture in the way she’d been taught, Maria Clara lifted her chin and hardened her gaze.

“Pardon?!” She looked at Robert. “I don’t know if I understood what he said.”

“Miss Dear Fiancée...” Started the other one, John.

“Barbosa!” She roared. “One of my surnames is Barbosa!”

“Oh, the bride bites.” He smirked.

Marie thought it was possible that she’d jump down the man’s throat.

“John, please, not now.” Tommy hissed. “Miss Barbosa, what my brothers are trying to say is that...”

“I’m sorry, Marie! So sorry! I was impulsive, insensitive and completely disrespectful to you!” Robert squeezed her hand, eyes wide-open in pure panic. “I’ll find a way to fix this mess and then we can get on with the wedding!”

The urge to laugh choked her for a measly second. Had he gone crazy?! Marie refused, even though it was a deal made with her father, to marry a man as stupid as Robert was. It was absurd that he even thought that they were still engaged after this!

“Are you insane?” She was definitely getting good at growling.

“I hate to interfere between marital discussions, but we need to go, Miss Barbosa.” Tommy looked at her. “Make haste, you two.”

So they were serious?! Really, really serious?!

Robert’s shoulders dropped, completely submissive and useless. Maria Clara’s gaze fixed at Mr. Shelby and the other two men, wondering the best way to escape, but when she turned her attention to the entrance, she finally saw him.

Apollo.

Another Apollo.

Standing behind Tommy and his brothers, one man – not as tall as they were, but still taller than her – stood out from the crowd. He wore a well-tailored suit, dark blue and subtly shiny, and instead of the beret, he wore nothing, displaying wavy and gelled brown hair. The stranger neither smoke nor wore gloves and he also looked younger than the trio, despite his serious expression and sharp jawline (Good God, she could cut a diamond in it!).

However, what hypnotized her the most were his eyes.

At first, they looked grey or somewhat dark. But now, with the sun shining on his face, she could see all the green in them. It wasn’t emerald, but whole lot paler, although it was strong enough to stand out from the conventional blues, with honey-coloured lines.

Apollo in flesh, bones and broad shoulders.

The real one. The authentic.

For a moment, she thought she was going to faint.

Then she felt a hand on her elbow, voices getting loud again around her. Marie stared at the leather glove, her focus moving up her arm to find Robert’s face. His mouth was moving, indicating that he was talking to her.

“Sorry, what?” She forced her own throat.

“I’m saying to go with them and... To trust me.” He hesitated at the end.

“As I tried to explain before,” Tommy stared at Robert impatiently, then at her, the blue orbs softening. “my younger brother is getting married in a few hours and we can’t waste another second. Tomorrow we’ll be prepared to discuss everything in the presence of your father, of course. Nonetheless, right now I need you to make haste and come with us!”

“But what about Apollo? I didn’t see him today!”

“Apollo will be in the care of our men and will be treated like the god he is.”

Even though she was outraged and confused, Maria Clara accepted his offered forearm. But before leaving, she took one last look at her pathetic ex-fiancé.

“Call Papa…” She started.

“Yes, I will send for him urgently.” Robert muttered. “I’m so sorry, Marie.”

She remained silent until she was inside their car, surrounded by the four imposing men. Her attention wandered from the streets to Fake Apollo and Authentic Apollo.

“Is he your brother too?” Marie looked at Tommy then at Apollo. “A Shelby?”

“Gray.” He murmured. The deep, husky voice was… Inexplicable. “Michael Gray.”

Michael, she mentally repeated, like the Angel. The name seemed right for him, somewhat strong and powerful… And Maria Clara loved it.

“It’s our cousin, Miss Marie.” Arthur clarified. “In a way, a Shelby.”

“And a Blinder too.” John completed, looking proud.

“And being a Blinder means...?” She stared at him.

“Your fiancé didn’t really tell you anything, eh?” Tommy sighed.

“Ex-fiancé.” She corrected him. “But yes, he didn’t tell me anything.”

Tommy gave her a brief explanation, excluding some obvious parts, about the Shelby Company and its ‘tiny’ connection to the Peaky Blinders. Afterwards, he told her about Robert and their bet, because thanks to it, Maria Clara would most likely receive protection from them... And become an important piece for the company to achieve legality.

Not that the man’s ambition ended there.

He wanted to talk to her father about business and use her as a bargaining chip if that came in handy. That wasn’t a surprise at all, for her own father was using her that way through a deal they made when Marie was younger… But that a stranger also saw her as ‘bargaining currency’ was a little depressing.

She listened carefully, trying to find similarities between what Lady Theodora had said. One doubt, however, remained.

“And Mr. Gray?” She stole a glance at Authentic Apollo. “You’ve said he only dealt with Shelby Company matters. How can he be a Blinder and not get involved?”

“Michael is different.” Tommy looked at his cousin. “He is like you. Just because he’s a Blinder doesn’t mean he has to deal directly with them.”

Maria Clara now had a certain notion of what the Peaky Blinders meant, so she decided not to seek further explanation. In fact, she was hoping her father would throw a fit and rescue her as soon as possible. She prayed she’d return to Brazil later that week and hide in her room for the rest of the year.

“I don’t think Papa will be happy with this.” She was sincere.

Tommy just nodded, then lit a cigarette and offered it to her.

“I don’t smoke, thank you.” Marie denied, starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Why would you marry that Pearson lad?” John inquired, curious.

“Because Papa and Mr. Pearson thought it would be a good thing. We were single, at age to wed, and Robert didn’t seem to be seriously trying to find a wife.”

“But where does your father know them from?”

“My family is very traditional in Brazil, and since colonial times they had business with England. When we became an Empire, things took off.” She looked at her hands. It wasn’t right to tell gangsters about her private life, but she didn’t want the silence. She was nervous, unsure and a little scared. “Mama has been introduced to Queen Victoria.”

“Do you have connections with the royal family?!”

“With the Brazilian, yes. The English one, I wouldn’t call it ‘connections’, but we know each other and sometimes Papa exports some things under special conditions. Nonetheless, our proximity is with the Brazilian one, even if nowadays it means absolutely nothing.” Marie shrugged her shoulders. “My grandfather was the last Marquis of Valença and my great-grandfather was a close friend of Dom Pedro II.”

She could see the gears in Tommy’s head turning. She knew her connections would prove valuable, and for someone who’d like to elevate their company’s status, she’d be a good asset. Granddaughter of a marquis, with some influence in royal families...

“So you are Lady Dear Fiancée, not Miss Dear Fiancée.” John giggled.

“I’m ‘Marie’, to be honest. No one uses the title since the coup d’état in 89.”

“Maybe in Brazil, but here it’s common and valuable label.” He commented. “Well, not among us Gypsies, but for the English in general. Isn’t that right, Michael?”

“I’m a gypsy too, John.”

“Eh... Almost that. You were raised by a loving and completely English family, weren’t you?!”

“God, yes.” Michael laughed softly, and Marie held her breath as she heard him.

Good Heaven’s, the man was… Divine.

“Therefore, Lady Marie.” John smiled again, becoming momentarily less intimidating. Maria Clara almost managed to get comfortable.

“We’ve never had a relationship with a lady before.” Arthur commented from the steering wheel. “It’s unbelievable that we’ll have one at your wedding, John Boy.”

“A hot-blood and a pure-blood, Arthur. That was the century’s deal!” The youngest nodded, satisfied. “How long until we get there? I think I’m looking forward to it now.”

Everyone roared with laughter except Tommy and Marie. He kept a small smile, calmly smoking his cigarette. Things were going in a better direction than he had imagined; although the fact that Maria Clara was a lady could complicate his situation a tad bit. But just as he assumed, she was the key to many doors and windows. He wasn’t going to get rid of the girl and was already starting to think of something to convince her father that the Shelby Company was more trustworthy than Pearson & Co.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray #michael gray fanfic #michael gray x reader

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tetrakys · 3 years

Text

So... about Elriel and Elucien...

I have finally read everything ACOTAR, including the two excerpts at the end of ACOSF, so I can give my final opinion about this ambiguous situation.

Let me first point out that I really don’t care about Elain and who she ends up with, I’m primarily a Faysand shipper, so my opinion in this matter is objective because I’m not invested, I only care about the characters’ wellbeing which fortunately is something SJM gives us anyway.

My opinion is that this ambiguous situation, is not ambiguous at all. Elucien and Gwynriel are endgame, and here is why.

(And fyi I’m nobody. Just a reader who likes to dissect and analyse plotlines and characters of the media she consumes. 9 times out of 10 I get it right.)

Every writer has a certain style, a bunch of tropes and preferences that are recurrent in their writing and create their own personal trademark. That’s why as readers we are fans of specific authors and tend to read most of what they write, their telltale signs can be found in other stories, other flavours but they are still there. Now, SJM has her own way to write romance and her couples always follow this format:

1) The couple that is ultimately going to end up together starts from a position of opposition and contrast. They initially can’t stand each other, they lie to themselves thinking they want nothing to do with the other person.

2) They ALWAYS start from a position of cowardice and false comfort, and their journey is to open their eyes, understand that the way they are living is wrong, and accept that part of themselves that pushes them toward the other person.

Let’s look at the two canon couples this series:

Feysand: Feyre and Rhys start seemingly as enemies. We then learn that it’s all bullshit, but what is Feyre’s psychological state at the beginning of ACOMAF? She is in a BAD relationship, but she can’t find the strength and the guts to get herself out of that situation. It takes a while for her to open her eyes and see that what she needs is elsewhere. Similarly, when Rhys just got free of 50 years of mental and physical subjugation, the first thing that happens to him is to find out that he is tied to someone else. Someone who isn’t even available. His first instinct is to run. Once they finally admit what they feel for each other, they also embrace a part of themselves they were ignoring or rejecting. We have read 1000 times how Feyre used to draw stars and night skies her whole life before finding herself at peace in the Night Court. And Rhys was so traumatised by all he had been through that loving Feyre forces him to come to terms with it and understand that he is worthy of being loved despite Amarantha.

Nessian: At the beginning of her journey Nesta is a whole train wreak. She hates herself and her only way to get by, the coward comfortable way, is drunkenness and meaningless sex with strangers. Cassian is actually the most grounded character of this whole saga imo, he had already been through his personal journey but he was also scared shitless of Nesta and her reactions. And only when she finally forgives herself, she can accept him.

Now... what does this mean for Elain?

Elain has had her life turned upside down by her transformation. She is heartbroken because the man she was in love with can’t even stand the sight of her. The moment she emerged from the Cauldron she was claimed. Very, very wrong move from Lucien’s part, should’ve bidden his time like Cassian did. Elaine rejects this new life for moths, and of course she rejects Lucien. Lucien is shaken by this, BUT he is also running away. We have seen him being completely lost. He has a sense of responsibility and yes, sure, attraction towards Elain, but he is messed up and in ACOFAS it is mentioned that he also wants to spend as little time with her as possible.

It’s exactly the same situation as Feysand and Nessian, but in a different context of course. They both have to go through their own journey, accept themselves and then the other.

And we have had the same kind of hints we had with Feyre. Elain is not suited for the Night Court, she looks washed up in black, lifeless, darkness doesn’t suit her. She is light, flowers and sun. She is the Day Court, of which Lucien is in fact the heir.

And what about Azriel?

Azriel and Elain are in a very similar situation at the moment. They are both surviving a terrible heartbreak, they are both quiet and contemplative, they both see more than they let on. They are each other’s easy, comfortable choice. Also they both know that they can’t really be with each other, so if on one side this increases desire, on the other deep down they are happy basking in the knowledge that they won’t have to commit.

Since I started reading ACOSF I realised that the character of Gwyn had been created to be Az’s perfect match. She is also pure and traumatised, but she is already a fighter. Elaine and Azriel don’t work well together because they are too similar where it doesn’t matter, they need a counterpart to balance them when it comes to temperament, but similar enough deep down. Gwyn sees herself as scarred, marked after what happened to her. Just like Az constantly looks at his scarred hands. Elaine is all pureness and this is what attracts him about her, but it’s not what he needs.

Gwyn and Az are on the same journey: accept the fact that their past does not define them and that they are better people than what they think.

Lucien and Elain are on the same journey: find out who they really are and what kind of life they want.

I’m expecting something to happen between Elain and Azriel in the next book, if SJM had not shown any attraction between them I would’ve thought that maybe she was preparing something meaningful for them later on, but it’s so out there that it’s clear they are each other’s initial position of comfort and complacency, they may even bang (and I’m sure it’s going to be hot if it really happens), but it won’t get further than that.

Az’s shadows are attracted to Gwyn, they recognise a mating bond that neither of them understands yet.

And Elain is so focused on rejecting Lucien even when he’s not around that it’s typical SJM couple dynamic 101.

#acotar #elucien #elriel #gwynriel #azriel #azriel x gwyn #elaine x lucien #elaine #lucien #gwyn

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iwhishtomeetinournextlife · 3 years

Text

An anonymous lover (part 6)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, not proof read, panick attack

Word count : 2k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - You're here - Part 7

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

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

Y/N didn’t go to class, she felt like shit, completly like shit. She was in her bed, rolled in her blanket, looking at nothing, the argument with Sirius playing in her head over and over again. Tears would have rolled down if she hadn’t cried all of them already.

She simply couldn’t believe it, a part of her wished so hard that was all a nightmare. But she knew it wasn’t, she had let her guard down and had been stabbed a million time by the very person she had trust enough to tell all of her being.

She hated how much this impacted her, she should be used to it by now, shouldn’t she ? It wasn’t like student from other house hasn’t already told her all those things ; “monters”,”abomination”,”shame”... It wasn’t rare for slytherin for being bullied just for bieng slytherin, most of them have built up walls to protect themselves.

She even got comment from other slytherin, the bad one, those who gave a bad name to this house, on how she doesn’t deserve to be here, that the Hat had made a mistake, because surely there was no way “a dumb”, “snoflake”, “less than nothing” had ended up in the house of the greatest wizard of the magic world !

All their insults started to spin in her head, she had tried so hard to not let them get to her but Sirius’ comments just validated them. They were right, she was a shame, to her house, to this school, probably to her family and friends too, why would anyone wants to be with her anyway ?

She started to feel herself suffocating in her duvet, so she took her blanket off. Her hands were trambling, hearts pounding faster than an hyppogryff at full speed, she could barely breath and started to panick even more. It wasn’t the fisrt that happened to her, so she tried to remember Madam Pomfrey’s advices.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breath, trying to gain control back, it took many tries, but after minutes who felt like hours, she was able to breathe properly. She sighed in relief, and for a few minutes, just looked at the floor, debating with herself of what to do and letting her time to recover from what just happened.

She tapped her thigh vigourously and stood up, she wasn’t going to let a heartbreak lead her life ! She was going to take a nice shower and get into comfortable clothes and get out of her room !

After cleaning herself up, she still didn’t feel like going to class, fearing of a new break down, so got dress, she took some school supplies and went to the slytherin common room, it was dark, with tall walls and big windows to have a look in the Black lake. Mermaids came sometimes, communications was a bit hard but it was kind of fun to bound with these creatures, she loved watching them swin, it was mesmerising.

She sat down on a window seat, were cushion had been placed and as well as a tray for those who –just like her- wanted to study. This would give her the possibility of being productive despise not going to class, and avoid thinking of Sirius for a while –she did let her potion books and notes in her bedroom just to be safe-

After a few hours, she was proud of herself for all the work she had done, all her homeworks were done, and she even took the time to do studies in advance, she had not think of Sirius that much, and was now looking at the lake, some mermaids were playing together a bit further, it was hide to see since the water of the lake wasn’t clear but if you focused enough, you could see it.

But she was took out of her observation when she felt a tap on shoulder, when she looked it was Collins, the prefect who guide her back to the common room last night. She was so overwhelmed yesterday, she hadn’t took the time to look at him, she hadn’t realised he was a fellow slytherin. She didn’t care much of her house structure if she was honest, she had no idea of who was headboy or girl, prefect or member of the quidditch team.

She took a good look at him, he was tall with blond curly hair and dark eyes, quite cute actually. But then it hit her, was she in trouble for skipping class ? Shit, had she missed McGonagall detention ? So she just at him, waiting to be reprimand or something, but it didn’t happen, he just looked at her and then away, oppenning and closing his mouth, trying to say something.

She decided to end his suffering and spoke, “Yes ?” He hesitate a bit more before looking finally at her. “Are you.. Are you okay ?” This took Y/N by surprise, she wasn’t expecting him to worry about her, when he guided her back, he hadn’t said a word and clearly looked uneasy, she thought he would do anything to avoid her.

“Hum, well, yeah, thanks for asking.” An akward silence set between the two for a few seconds, Y/N decided to put her stuff away since she wasn’t going to study again. “Do you need anything else ?” Collins jumped, surprised to hear her after the seconds of silence. “No.. I mean YES ! I … well..” he clearly didn’t know what to say, that’s adorable though Y/N. She motion him to sit down in front of her.

He did so and sighed, before slamming his hand on face, “Sorry, this is akward, I don’t know what to say”, Y/N laughed a bit “I can see that !” she teased. He became all the shade of red. “What about some presentation first ? I’m Y/N Y/L/N” she reached out her hand.

He smiled and shook her hand. “Benjamin Collins, but please, call me Ben” She nodded. “So, Ben, what else did you have to tell me ? “

He looked down at his hand, playing with his thumbs, “I.. I don’t know. After what happenned last night I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and when I didn’t see you at mealtime, I got a bit worried”. Y/N openned her mouth, it was her turn to not know what to say, that was just so sweet, she didn’t expect it from a stranger. But then her stomach gurgled and it was his turned to laugh. “I ‘m taking that into you didn’t eat yet ? Come with me, we’ll found you something”

And that’s how both of them went to the kitchen, the house elves were nice to make her a little something, and they talked for a few hours. Y/N learned he was a year older than her he was a muggleborn, he had a little sister he was really closed to, she didn’t turn out to be a witch too which made him quite sad but he was proud of her anyway. She spend such a good time with him, it’s actually him who had to remind her of her detention.

To not be late she had to run to her dorm to quickly change, not sure McGonagall would have liked seeing her in a casual outfit, and then she had to run to the classroom, whe she arrived just in time. There, she saw Sirius, who snapped his head at her when she got in clearly waiting for her. But before their eyes could meet, she turned her head and sat down as far as possible from him. It is only now she realised she hadn’t thought of him at all while she was with Benjamin.

He was about to say something but to Y/N’s relief, Professor McGonagall got in, “Perfect, I see you are both here, for your detention you are going to organise all of the books of this class in alphabetical order, without magic, of course” Y/N widen her eyes, there were a lot of books here, it was going to take forever.

Both her and Sirius got up and started to work, Y/N always stepped away the closer Sirius got to her. He eyed her every now and then but she ignore him completly, after a few minutes he looked to see if McGonagall was paying attention to them and when he saw she was busy, he spoke low to Y/N.

“Y/N ?” she ignored him, “Y/N ? Can we talk ?” she still ignore him, “Y/N, please”, she blessed him with a hard look and spoke irritated, “What”

Sirius felt himself getting smaller at her look, he did deserve that. “I’m sorry” she rolled her eyes and kept her work. “I really I’m Y/N, I-.. You didn’t deserve any of the words I said to you, I didn’t believe any of them I-” as he was speaking, she walked away, not giving a glare.

“I know, I know, you’re mad-” she was about to talk but he kept going, wanting to have the chance to finish first “-and I deserve your anger, but I want to make it up to you”

She finally talk, “It’s far too late for sorry, the harm is done, there is nothing you can do”

“There’ got to be something I can do ! Please Y/N”

“You want to make it up to me ? Organise those books so we can be out as soon as possible and stop talking to me”

Sirius frowned, and sighed “I will find a way Y/N, be sure of that” “Get to work, Black”. He grimaced when he heard her uses his last name, he will take a lot more than a simple apology to earn her forgivness, but he was going to make every effort, she was worth all of it. He will take down the moon and give it to her if that would make her talked to him again.

Once they stopped talking it took an hour and a half in total to finish it, Sirius did his best to be as efficient as possible, if she wanted to be out as quickly aas possible, she will. Once they had finish, she quickly excuse herself from Professor McGonagall and walked away.

Sirius sighed, putting his face in his hand. McGonagall walked to him and pat his shoulder, “Good luck Mister Black, you are going to need it”, he thanked her and went to his dorm.

He decided to analyse every letter she has send him, searching for all the things that could make her forgive him, making a list, putting on plans, with the help of the marauders. He had a pretty clear idea, it would take a couple of days to put in place, he hoped so hard it would work.

It was now time for dinner, he went with his friends, once at the table he search for Y/N at the slytherin table, his eye widen when he saw her sitting next to a boy he recognise to be the one who took her back to her common room yesterday. He felt his blood boil in his veign, she was smiling and laughing out loud. Wow, that laugh, he loved it, but he shouted dark glare at the boy, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

“Stop tarring” said Remus suddenly, making his friend jumped, “you don’t get to be jalous” Sirius groaned and let his head fall on the table with a hard thud, turning a few heads. “I know, I still don’t like it”

“She moved on fast” noted Peter. James shrugged a bit, “She’s a slytherin” he put his hands in the air when Sirius shot him an angry look, “Wha’ I mean is tha’ they are proud, she wasn’t goin’ to let herself down fo’ you”

Sirius sighed, he guessed that was a good thing ? He didn’t want her to be hurt because of him, but he felt bad for wanting her to care about him more than she does. He put that thought away, he didn’t get to wish for that when he was the one who pushed her away in the first place.

He looked at the two of them once more, clenching his fists, he had to make it up to you, and fast, or else he will lose you forever.

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@blackpinkdolan @jentaculargums @bruxa0007 @deathkat657 @bleh-bleh-blehs @whiskeypowder @edithsvoice @weasleybeb @auggie2000 @the-mess-in-my-head @theincredibledeadlyviper

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

I will be on vacation for two weeks with my family, I will probably not be able to update the serie for a while.

Thanks all of you for your support, your like, reblog and nice message, it really warm my heart and motivate me to keep going <3 Love you, have an amazing day

#Harry potter #sirius black fanfiction #an anonymous lover #sirius black #marauders #marauders x reader #x reader

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Concubine nhs pt11 / on AO3

It is odd to exist in this little house and not have a purpose, Nie Huaisang decides a few weeks after being discarded. For three years his entire life has revolved around the emperor, his only wish being to distract him from his duties to make him happy. Now the emperor is miserable whenever he visits, and Nie Huaisang isn't allowed to do anything about that. Not when the emperor has made it very clear that he is now disgusted by the idea of any intimacy between them, and talking feels so awkward.

If he cannot kiss him, or please him in bed, if they cannot laugh or even talk, Nie Huaisang doesn't know what the point of everything is anymore.

His days are emptier than ever. His nights no longer bring any comfort. Nie Huaisang is miserable.

Worse, Nie Huaisang is bored. A deep, insidious boredom that taints every moment he’s awake, that even pursues him in his dreams sometimes, or makes it impossible to sleep, denying him even that relief.

If he weren't so constantly bored, Nie Huaisang wouldn't have started checking those documents the emperor now brings with him when he visits. He’s perfectly aware that he shouldn’t do that all. It’s not his business, it’s politics, it’ll land him in trouble, but...

But the emperor always falls asleep long before him, and always ends up in terrible positions in that stupid sofa, and half the time he forgets to use a blanket. Nie Huaisang has to make sure the emperor doesn't catch a cold. And then those documents are right there, and he's so bored.

The books Lan Qiren sends him don't last as long as they used to, now that he doesn't have to stop reading them at night. They're also less interesting, at least those newest batches: treaties on how to analyse texts, or write essays. It's all so painfully boring that by comparison, official reports filled with numbers are pretty interesting.

Nie Huaisang doesn't mean to read that stuff, it just happens. And the first time it happens, he stops as soon as he realises what he's doing. It's politics, and he's sworn to himself he'd never get involved in that. He scolds himself very hard that first time, and the second one too. Even the third time. But the fourth time…

The fourth time is different.

The thing is, Nie Huaisang is pretty good with numbers. That's the reason why his father relented and finally recognised him. Nie Huaisang can't read the classics with ease because he’s still learning some of those less common characters. He values fun stories over respected ones, which isn’t what a real scholar could do. And he can't quite say what makes a good poem better than a bad one, he just likes them or he doesn’t. But he's quick at counting and has a natural knack for arithmetics. That's why his father put him in charge of organising banquets and overseeing finances, and he likes to think he saved them some good money in the time he held that duty.

So when he starts noticing discrepancies on those imperial reports, Nie Huaisang doesn't really think. He does what he would have done for his father, and writes down everything he notices. Because he doesn't quite understand what those reports are about, Nie Huaisang doesn't dare to guess why the numbers are wrong. He just knows that they are. So he leaves his notes on the table for the emperor to find when he wakes up, and hope that will be helpful.

He just so badly wants to be helpful. Maybe if he shows that he can still be useful, the emperor will start smiling at him again, or even talk to him.

Nie Huaisang just feels so lonely and bored.

Later, when it is light again and he's alone in his little house, Nie Huaisang wonders if that was the right thing to do. Since nobody comes to drag him out of his cage to publicly whip him as an example to others, it can't have been wrong. But the emperor doesn't visit for a full three days after that, so maybe it wasn't right either.

On the third day, the emperor's brother visits, and sheds some light on that long absence.

"Brother has been given proof that the magistrate in the region of Yunping City was corrupt, and hindering the war effort," the prince explains, which might be the most Nie Huaisang ever heard him say at once. "Urgent measures had to be taken."

Nie Huaisang doesn't dare to ask, and stares at his glass of tea. That report he wrote notes on was definitely about Yunping City. It means he might have become involved in politics after all, against his will. As if he can afford to be making enemies, in his position.

"Due to this situation, I will leave for Yunping City," the prince announces. "I will work with Lord Jiang to restore the situation. Consort Nie knows him?"

"Only a little," Nie Huaisang meekly protests. "He is a friend of my father. This humble one knows his children a little, and his ward Wei Wuxian, but not that well."

The prince nods, and takes a sip of tea. That should be the end of it. The prince never speaks much, and he’s just used more words than he usually does in an entire month. Surely he’s told Nie Huaisang everything he had to say on that matter.

Right?

"Jiang gongzi and Wei gongzi are to assist me," The prince explains, putting down his glass. "Will consort Nie tell me about them? I want to know what to expect."

Nie Huaisang frowns at that request.

"Surely there are many others in the palace who can tell you that? This one is only a humble servant's son, his knowledge is too imperfect to be useful."

"Others can have their opinion," the prince retorts. "I wish to hear consort Nie's."

A direct order from the imperial prince cannot be denied, least of all by a concubine fallen out of favour. Sick with worry at the prospect of being again dragged into politics, Nie Huaisang still does what he's told and gives as honest a portrait of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin as he can. He makes sure to point out their qualities, which are many, but also acknowledges their faults: Jiang Cheng's temper, Wei Wuxian's overconfidence, and the way they only really shine when they work together.

It appears to please the prince, who thanks Nie Huaisang for his answers before taking his leave. He will write from Yunping City, he says, and might ask again for Nie Huaisang’s opinion in the future.

"Please don't," Nie Huaisang begs. "This humble one is unworthy of such an honour."

The prince doesn't reply, and Nie Huaisang is left alone to wonder if he's made another mistake.

That night, the emperor visits again. He doesn't speak about those notes Nie Huaisang left him, though several times he stares at his concubine as if he were on the verge of saying something, only to change his mind at the last minute. His expression is so intense each time that Nie Huaisang ends up pretending to fall asleep just so the emperor will stop looking at him like that.

He takes notice of the fact that this time, the emperor brought a book with him, not reports. Nie Huaisang figures it's a message that his intervention, though perhaps useful, is resented.

Nobody wants to owe anything to a mere concubine.

After that one incident, life returns to normal. Or at least, as what passes for normal these days.

Nie Huaisang is lonelier than ever. The emperor ignores him when he spends the night in the little house. The emperor's uncle, who was supposed to visit and find him a teacher, is too busy to do either due to having to take over some of the prince’s duties. And since that same prince is far away in Yunping City, even that last illusion of companionship has been torn away.

Nie Huaisang is lonely.

Nie Huaisang is miserable.

So miserable, in fact, that he can't even rejoice when the aviary the emperor built for him is finally complete. Of course he puts on a smile when there is a banquet to celebrate this happy occasion, and plays perfectly his role of a cheerful concubine. He almost fools himself into feeling grateful and happy. Maybe he is happy, sitting again with the emperor, seeing him smile like this. It's easy to pretend, when Nie Huaisang so dearly misses how happy they used to be.

But the next day, when he visits his aviary again, alone this time, Nie Huaisang only feels more depressed than ever. He wants to open every door to every cage, and let those expensive birds fly away. They all look as sad as he feels. But of course just like him, they probably wouldn't know how to survive outside a cage anymore.

If it were up to him, Nie Huaisang would never look at his aviary again.

It isn't up to him.

If he doesn't go, it will be noticed, he knows, just as it would be noticed if the emperor stopped coming to see him. If Nie Huaisang doesn’t check on his pretty new birds, people will say that the emperor spent a fortune spoiling a concubine who won't be satisfied with even the most expensive of presents. They will say the emperor is weak and foolish, or worse things even, and Nie Huaisang can't bear it.

So he visits his birds daily. It is a punishment for fooling the emperor, for playing his father' s games. For being foolish enough to fall in love, when Meng Yao once warned him it is the one mistake a concubine should never make. At the time, Nie Huaisang hadn't understood. He does now. Being discarded would hurt so much less if he could only stop caring.

But that's life now. Reading boring volumes selected by the emperor's uncle, spending time with birds he doesn't want, being ignored all night by the emperor himself. A new routine, much worse than the old one he used to have.

A routine that finally shatters when one day, Nie Huaisang finds a stranger in his aviary, looking at his birds.

Although there were many guests at the celebration to mark the completion of that aviary, the emperor made it clear that no one but Nie Huaisang, himself, and the servants attached to the aviary are allowed to come there. If the emperor were to have given permission to anyone else, he would surely have warned Nie Huaisang. And that boy's clothes are just good enough to make it clear that he cannot be a servant.

He definitely is just a boy though, probably younger than Nie Huaisang by a few years. And yet there's a certain air to him, as if in spite of his youth, that boy knows more about life than some people much older than him. He just sounds so sad as he greets the talking birds.

If that boy had been cheerful, or confident, Nie Huaisang could easily have chased him away. Happy people annoy him, when he has so little left to be joyful about. But seeing someone as depressed as himself makes his heart ache, reminding him how very lonely he is.

Nie Huaisang watches that boy trying to chat with a pair of mynahs in a gentle voice that borders on hopeless, and comes to a decision.

"They're not very chatty," he says, startling the boy. "At least, not yet. I'm still working on teaching them to talk."

The boy stares at him for a moment, then bows quickly and a little clumsily, betraying that he hasn't been trained for the imperial palace. Nie Huaisang remembers how he struggled as well when his father acknowledged him, when he came to the capital, and feels his heart swell again with sympathy.

"Are you in charge of training them?" the boy hesitantly asks.

Since the emperor has made it clear that he no longer enjoys seeing Nie Huaisang covered in fineries, most of the time he dresses quite simply. It’s easier to put on, and it makes him feel a little less like a liar. He misses the fine silks and heavy gold sometimes, but plain clothes are more honest. Still, his clothes are only plain by comparison to the more extravagant outfits he used to wear for the emperor. Anyone glancing at him would take him for the privileged son of a great family… which he is, he supposes.

The point is, that boy must have already guessed that Nie Huaisang isn’t just one of the servants looking after the birds, so he doesn’t see any point in hiding.

"They're mine, actually," Nie Huaisang says, only to instantly regret it.

The boy's eyes open wide, his face turning ashen before he falls to his knees and kowtow before Nie Huaisang, his entire body shaking with terror.

"T-this humble one didn't realise! This humble one begs for your highness's mercy!"

Distressed by that strong reaction, Nie Huaisang takes a step back.

"I'm no highness."

"Your highness must be consort Nie!” the boy cries out. “This humble one never meant to intrude! This one knows no one is allowed here, but I really had to check, and… may his highness show mercy, though this one is undeserving!"

Nie Huaisang blinks.

He knows, of course, that he's technically someone important. Servants are always very careful around him, and he has (had) the emperor's favour, which he could easily use to get his way, if he were so inclined. But since he lives in such isolation, and only leaves his little house for official occasions where everyone’s behaviour is strictly regimented by custom, it's rare for him to actually encounter anyone who might feel they owe him such open deference.

He doesn't particularly enjoy it, he quickly decides.

"Please get up," he orders. "I'm guessing you came here by accident?"

Refusing to stand up, the boy nods.

"I was looking for my young master,” he explains in a pitiful voice. “I am a companion to a young lord called Ouyang Zizhen, and he escaped from me a little while ago when playing."

The name Ouyang is familiar, but only vaguely. They might be related in some way to the emperor's late mother, though Nie Huaisang doesn't think the emperor is particularly close to them. Lord Ouyang is just closely related enough to be allowed to live inside the palace, but his son will likely not be allowed to remain there after his death. Anyway, the emperor rarely mentions them, and Nie Huaisang is pretty sure their son is a lot younger than this boy.

Noble families like to bring in companions for their sons, as was done for the emperor, because they think it makes them look important.But sometimes what they really want is just a glorified nanny they don’t have to actually pay.

"What's your name?" Nie Huaisang asks.

"This humble one is Mo Xuanyu."

The name Mo doesn't ring a bell at all. They must be very minor in rank, or just rich merchants. Either way, people like that would take it as an honour to send one of their sons to the imperial palace, even if it’s just to serve an unimportant family. Being a young lord’s companion would give Mo Xuanyu the chance of a free education, at least if the family he’s serving treats him with any decency. They don’t always, as Nie Huaisang knows. The emperor complained about that sometimes, saying some families were very cruel to their sons’ companions.

But that was back when they would actually talk.

Nie Huaisang can’t remember when was the last time anyone talked to him.

He misses talking.

"Do you like birds, Mo Xuanyu ?"

"Y-yes, your highness."

"Me too. Do you know what species are here?"

Puzzled by that question, Mo Xuanyu dares to look up as he shakes his head. Nie Huaisang grins, and kneels next to him, grabbing the boy's arm to force him back on his feet. It might be a mistake, but he’s been lonely so long, and Mo Xuanyu, in spite of his obvious fear, is actually talking to him.

Nie Huaisang wonders if that’s how the emperor felt that night, when he spoke to him with such insolence in the Unclean Realm. He quickly pushes the thought away. The situations are completely different, because Mo Xuanyu knows who he is.

"Do you want me to give you a tour?" Nie Huaisang asks.

After some hesitation, Mo Xuanyu shakes his head and bows away.

"I should really go find my master," he mumbles. "It's not that I don't want… I mean, this humble one would be honoured, those birds are all so pretty, and I really like… but I can’t, I have to…"

"Duty calls, I understand,” Nie Huaisang replies. “But then, do you think you might come here again another day? I give you permission, so you won't get punished if you do. And then I can tell you more about the birds, if you’d like."

Mo Xuanyu's expression is so funny as he eagerly nods, full of awe and wonder. Nie Huaisang almost laughs.

He hasn’t wanted to laugh in so long.

He knows he probably shouldn't talk like this to a near stranger. He should be prudent, check the status of the Ouyang family, find out who the Mo are, and ask about Mo Xuanyu's reputation. But it has been so long since Nie Huaisang spoke to anyone, and he can't help the sense of kinship he gets when he looks at Mo Xuyanyu. They're the same, he can just tell: small and lonely, thrown into a world where they don't belong, forced to make the best of choices others made for them.

But Mo Xuanyu shyly promises to visit the aviary again, and Nie Huaisang is happy.

He hopes they can be friends.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo xuanyu #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #concubine au #a new player has entered the game

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justwaitingforthesnow · 3 years

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a short fic because i reread iwwv: leah calls james on new year’s eve, 1999 and they talk about oliver

spoilers if you haven’t read the book- please scroll past! this is also my first time posting fanfic so god knows it might be terrible

Outside they’d already started with the fireworks. Premature party-goers staggered through iridescent New York in black satin heels and slip dresses, revelling in a hundred summers they’d only captured through their parent’s collage polaroids. They grouped under streetlights to light cigarettes, clutching cheap vodka and novelty memorabilia. The window was closed, their music uncaring for his thin glass barrier. If anyone looked up from the street below, they’d see him regardless; Scrooge glaring out from behind the curtain with his mouth set against the merried thousands who would walk past oblivious that night.

So much of his life had James Farrow lived more easily upon other’s oblivious nature. Not that he noticed everything himself- the more he dredged those memories from Decheller, the more he realised exactly how much he’d overlooked or misinterpreted- but he couldn’t deny it. Details most would miss he’d obsess over the same way as he would a fragment of a phrase, analysing to the point of scrutiny. Realistically he knew it never led anywhere. He’d spent so much time learning how to formulate arguments in favour of one interpretation or the other, he could string out a conclusion either way the question was asked. It didn’t matter if he was the one asking it, over and over again.

Take, for example, the phone ringing. Likely it was Pip. Likely she would ask if they’d started celebrating, get irritated on his behalf when he told her no, Alex and Colin had cancelled last minute. Likely she would call ten minutes after he hung up, rightfully irritated this time, and say something like “I’d hoped to start this new year without you lying to me” or worse, “I just want to go into the next millennium knowing you’re all right.” He’d already fully fleshed the future possibilities in which he lost or won his case against her best wishes by the time his clumsy fingers had accepted the call.

Unlikely it was a stranger’s number. Unlikely it was a voice he couldn’t begin to recognise, let alone remember.

The phone trembled in front of him, in his hands, inches from his face.

“Hey,” the girl said again. Dulled music thudded in the background, the thumping of drums and a tinny electric shriek of a guitar riff. “Can you hear me okay? Did you speak?”

“Yeah,” James said. His voice slid smoothly from between gritted teeth; the word was calm and unbetraying of anything other than itself. “Who is this, please?”

He damned well knew, of course he did. It’d taken a minute, but somehow he still grounded himself in her reply. “It’s Leah,” she said. “You know? Oliver’s sister. We met at Thanksgiving a few years ago.”

Oliver’s sister. She said it as casually as he spoke; the words meant everything outside themselves. As if Oliver was a tangible being still, within his reach, capable of connections beyond their walled friendship- Oliver, who had sat and ate grilled cheese and watched cartoons with his sisters and had water fights in their back garden and had a life elsewhere, before him.

“Right,” he said, and she must’ve sensed the shift he’d tried to hide. She damned well knew, she must have done. Perhaps she always had.

“He never did it, did he?” Her desperation was drowned by the sound of a hand dryer, a chain flushing. The music hadn’t stopped, though he hadn't been so hyper aware of it previously. “You know what happened. Tell me it wasn’t him.”

She hiccupped a little drunkenly- what the hell did she look like, anyway. In his mind he’d painted her as Wren; hunched into herself perched on the edge of a sink, washed out in blue strip lighting, mascara running down her cheeks stark contrast against pale hair. No, that was wrong. She’d had Oliver’s hair- caramel brown. Oliver’s eyes, too. “Tell me,” she said again. “I know it wasn’t him. I want to start this knowing it wasn’t. I can’t go into 2000 thinking it was.”

His own voice was a stubborn, faltering creature. It froze in headlights and under spotlights and whispered, “No, he’d never do something so monstrous.”

Leah laughed. He squirmed at it- giddy and childlike. How many years between them? Six? Eight? “I knew it,” she said simply. “I knew it. I tried to tell them but they sent me home, you know? I haven’t visited since.”

“I should next week,” James said. It felt like admitting he hadn’t, not for too long. Felt like admitting every other treacherous truth as well, in some fickle pandora’s box of hope. There; hopefully he would visit. Hopefully it would be all right. Hopefully. He wouldn’t have to think of it until next week. Likely he wouldn’t until after that, and then he’d let it swallow him for days. What a way to start a year.

Then there was his sister, still laughing on the phone. What a way to finish one.

“I hate you,” the last tangible link to an Oliver before said. “I hate what he’s done, but it wasn’t his fault. He said he wouldn’t leave without me, and he got ripped away.”

23:46.

She hung up.

He didn’t have the energy to say it, but he thought it twice as hard. He agreed with her, down to every last word.

So much he still hadn’t said, so desperate to confess.

He’d carry it through while she could let it go. That brought some twisted sense of comfort; it felt fitting, although not right. Neither of them could fix it. What difference did it make, that she’d guessed? She knew nothing. James doubted most days if even he knew half of it.

Oliver, in no position to say anything, knew more. If he had to carry the bag, Oliver had taken twice his load.

Perhaps there would be music in his cell that night. Perhaps he would visit after all.

Perhaps he would call Pip, and let a more familiar argument play out.

#if we were villians #iwwv #james farrow

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koelnhbf · 3 years

Text

bump into you (knj)

part eleven: leave

genre: as always but in french, je ne sais pas fluff i guess

warnings: nothing really, it’s a short one :)

It was only a few days after Namu had asked you out on a date when he texted to ask when it was a good day for you. The only problem was that between classes and thesis writing, your evenings were mostly spent in the bookshop, coming home late and only then having dinner (when you felt like cooking), so you told the guy you had been continuously texting that the next days seemed impossible.

It was Thursday and you were closing up the shop when the bell over the door rang and you were greeted with the delicious smell of jjajangmyeong filling up the shop and making your stomach rumble. You turned to the customer and noticed Namu, masked up of course, walking towards you, a hand lifted in greeting.

“I know you texted me that dinner would be impossible so I thought I’d bring dinner to you,” he explained, this time you could see his eyes, with Namu having chosen a beanie to shield his ears from the cold outside.

“Oh,” you giggled. “I didn’t expect you to come here with food.”

Namu shrugged and lifted the bag with the takeaway meal, looking around the shop. “Look, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he said and suddenly started scratching his nape with his free hand. “It has to do with my face.”

Your eyes half closed in confusion and you set the last books away that you had been holding since he came in.

“What’s with your face?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You see, Yn, we uh…” Namu looked around, seeming to be unable to meet your eyes while grasping for the right words. “We met before, where you could see my full face.”

You had to admit you did not understand what he said. You didn’t remember ever having seen his face not being covered by a mask and the occasional hat, so it took you some time to analyse his words.

“I don’t know what you mean, Namu. I’ve never seen you without that mask on.” His shoulders slumped at your words.

“We met at your university…” he said and you started to think about every day in the past weeks to discover whom you might have met. “Professor Hak-nim invited me.”

“Professor Hak–,” that’s when your breath faltered. “Kim Namjoon-nim?”

Namjoon laughed at your formality, though that moment of happiness quickly disappeared when he saw your expression. Where confusion had previously taken over your emotions, a mixture of disbelief and, much to his frustration, disgust seemed to now be the order of the day. Your hands formed fists and a worrying redness creeped up your neck as Namjoon observed you without saying anything.

“Yah! Who are you to think that you can play this prank on me, huh? You come to this bookshop, dressed like a complete creep and pretend to be a man I spoke to in uni? Where’s the respect?” Your voice was shrill in his ears and he had to admit that he liked the lack of gullibility in you. However, his frustration only started to grow as you started to make your way towards the door to open it, the cold wind causing goosebumps to form on your naked arms.

“I’ll now be asking you to leave.” With your lips forming a straight line and a resolute stare at him, you waved your arm in a circular motion, emphasising his need to leave. “Please don’t come again.”

“Yn…” You didn’t look at him, instead focused on the couple of students that were coming in the direction of your workplace. “This is not how I had planned it to go.”

Then, to your surprise, though much more to his, he took off the mask, his face now being completely visible to you and causing embarrassment to settle in. He was Kim Namjoon. You had no doubt now.

“Oh fu–,” you jumped over to him and turned him just in time as the students were now walking into the shop.

“We’re closing,” you called into Namjoon’s back and felt it vibrate under his laugh.

“We just need to get a book, real quick!” They called and took your awkward silence as permission to roam the shelves.

“Go to the back of the shop, the door’s right behind the cash register, and wait there.” The man nodded and quickly made his way to the door, leaving a trail of confusion behind, partnered with the fateful smell of jjajangmyeong.

— as a high-achieving student from a poor background at SNU, your life has been all about studies. apart from your three friends, your time was divided between your dissertation and the independent bookshop you worked at after class. looking forward to buying the most sought-after book you desperately need for your thesis you notice the only way to keep it is to stash away a copy. what happens when your bookshop is a stranger’s last resort of buying the book? and what if your copy was the last one in all of seoul?

⟸ m.list ⟹

taglist: @aquaalanah @lettersfromsalome @poutyoongiiii @secretlycrazyhummingbird

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hopetofantasy · 4 years

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Culture, parallels & meta - S3 E2

Zaterdag 10:21

That’s character: In this scene, they’re again establishing some of Robbe’s insecurities. We already know from previous seasons that he often feels like the third wheel, keeps to himself, lets people walk all over him or apologizes a lot, so that they don’t hate him or abandon him (like his dad did). But this scene takes it even further: he doesn’t want to be a burden. Not with stuff like his friend’s party mess, so he cleans up as early and fast as he can. Not with taking food that doesn’t belong to him, so he chooses to not eat anything instead.

Perfect parallel: Zoë mentioning “Especially the pasta” in this season, because Milan stole her pasta at the beginning of hers.

Surprise bitch, guess who? Milan’s one-nightstand appears to be ‘Georgy Chtchevaev’, a close friend of Jonathan Michiels (Viktor) and other cast members. Small, small world.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Robbe’s expression at the end reveals how he longs for something like Milan has, but then realizes he might never have/want that. (Internalized homophobia is a bitch, y’all!)

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The guy pulls out strawberry yoghurt from ‘Colruyt’ out of an almost empty fridge along with a spoon, from the cutlery drawer. Robbe’s gaze keeps lingering a tad too long on the half naked boy in their kitchen.

Zaterdag 14:43

C is for culture:

“Hey, I’m working here” - Teens are allowed to get a student job, as long as they’re at least 15 years old and completed the first two years of high school. The rules around how often they may work, has changed a lot during the last decade. However, nowadays, they’re allowed to work at a lower social security tariff as long as they don’t go over 475 working hours per year. Otherwise, they’ll have to pay the normal amount or even taxes if they surpass a certain income limit.

“No, I was just shopping” - C&A (Clemens & August Brenninkmeijer) is a Dutch chain store of origin with approx. 1,500 stores in Europe. They mostly attract older generations, as their style is seen as a bit old-fashioned and classic. That’s why their popularity significantly dropped in recent years, causing closures in some cities. - A smart move of putting product placement in a youth tv series.

Perfect parallel:

Robbe pulling a t-shirt off the rack to get Noor’s attention in this episode, him using the same tactic with a sweater in the last episode.

Noor sitting on a reluctant Robbe’s lap to kiss him here, Robbe happily straddling Sander to kiss and talk later on.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Robbe again faking that he likes Noor’s sexual advances.

Lost in translation: Robbe’s mom texting him “Ziet ge mij niet graag?”, which could literally be interpreted as “Don’t you want to see me?”, but in this context it actually means “Don’t you love me anymore?”.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: In case you didn’t catch it, Robbe is making a double joke with the t-shirt - saying that Noor is sexy as well as repeating the song on the store radio. Jana’s look at a disheveled Noor reveals that she knew Robbe wasn’t just ‘trying something on’.

Bonus: This season uses a lot of mirrors to reflect Robbe’s emotions and inner turmoil. Even his relationships with Noor and Sander are mirrored within the season itself: he never liked what Noor did for him (waiting outside the school, making out in public, going next level) and he was amazed at Sander doing the same. Mirrors are the perfect way of showing how Robbe has two faces: his ‘straight’ public persona and his struggling inner ‘gay’ self.

Zondag 19:59

That’s character: Zoë’s mom behavior is at full force here. When she spots her friends, roommates or boyfriend in difficult situations, she jumps to the opportunity to make them feel better. She instantly defends them, provides a shoulder to cry on, gives advice, feeds them when needed, tries to figure out what they’re feeling, ... Sometimes giving some tough loving too. Zoë just has that caring nature of her own. This probably stems from the fact that she missed out on parental figures and wants to feel needed as a compensation.

Perfect parallel:

Symbolism! Robbe walking away from his mom’s room in a cold-looking hallway, because he’s not comfortable (yet) with the situation. And him walking towards Sander’s room in a warmly lit hallway, since he’s at peace with what’s happening with his love.

Zoë asking Milan if he’s “Playing hard to get?” in this situation, Milan asking Robbe if his clothes say “Hard to get or playing hard to get?” later.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Robbe analyses what Milan is doing with his partner, not really sure how to feel about it.

Nod to the OG: Zoë stating “The only thing you can do now is just be there for her and yes, that you have to wait”, sounds oddly familiar to the minute-for-minute speech by Sonja.

Funny coincidence: Milan making out heavily with his boy in front of Robbe and his salad, might look like a nod to the ‘Right in front of my salad’ meme.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Robbe’s other (thicker) coat is hanging on a hook in the hallway. Senne’s “If I had have known that, I would have tried harder” indicates that he probably had to retake a year in high school, because otherwise he’d been a student in uni earlier on.

Maandag 16:27

C is for culture: “Kwak en Boemel kwamen binnen” (= “Kwak and Boemel entered”) - Robbe is referring to two side characters in the Belgian comic books ‘Jommeke’, who are homeless, lowlife criminals. The main protagonist in the series is the 11-year-old boy ‘Jommeke’. He is clever, honest, brave, loves adventure and is recognizable by his distinct blonde bowl cut. It’s one of the best-selling strips in Flanders, besides ‘Suske and Wiske’.

Perfect parallel: Jens’ first time suggesting toothpaste to jerk off happens here in S3, but he repeats it again during wtFOCKDOWN.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: The boys questioning why Robbe didn’t go all-the-way with Noor yet.

Lost in translation: Noor saying “Is dat een eik? Want ik zie veel eikels hier!” has completely lost its meaning when translated. ‘Eikels’ means ‘acorns’, which come from the ‘eik’ (= ‘oak tree’). But ‘eikels’ also means ‘assholes’. That’s why she’s pointing out the oak tree, to diss the boys that they’re actually ‘eikels’.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Again, the very subtle hint at the beginning that Sander was at the skatepark - checking Robbe out. Robbe pulls the middle finger at the boys hollering. His skateboard has a ‘World Industries’ sticker on it.

Dinsdag 14:56

Perfect parallel:

Robbe arguing “A whole weekend on a trip with people you don’t know?” against Noor coming along in this episode, his flirty affirmative answer to Sander’s “Like a weekend trip with strangers, right?” in the next.

Amber and her match making skills again! First, she tried to set herself up with Senne in S1, then Jana and Zoë with Max in S2, now Luca with Aaron in S3.

Lost in translation: “Ik denk niet dat ze daar goesting voor heeft” - ‘Goesting’ is a typical Flemish word for anything that has to do with desire, preference or willingness to do something in any context (work, food, activities, sex, ...). That’s why Aaron answers him with “I had a different impression on Friday”, taking the “I don’t think she has ‘goesting’” in a very sexual way.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: The real reason why he doesn’t want Noor to join the trip, is him not wanting to fake his attraction to her. Except Robbe isn’t willing to admit that to himself yet.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Luca has braces!

Woensdag 12:21

Perfect parallel: Noor’s “And then you haven’t even seen the men yet” as a rebuttal to Moyo’s comments about art school girls in this episode, Robbe meeting the beautiful art boy Sander in the next.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Robbe just doesn’t see the appeal in watching women dance, since he’s not attracted to them. But the guys don’t get why he says ‘no’ to the recital.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Noor is greeting Britt with a hug in the background. Moyo kisses the dance recital flyer right before going outside.

Donderdag 07:21

C is for culture: Robbe is making a sandwich with choco spread and speculaas cookies. ‘Speculaas’ (’Biscoff' in English) is a spiced shortcrust biscuit with origins in the Netherlands and Belgium. It’s typically baked for the ‘Sinterklaas’ and Christmas celebrations. Though, it can be eaten as a treat to accompany coffee, thee or ice-cream as well.

Perfect parallel:

Zoë saying “I think you’re not used to eating healthy” earlier this episode and Robbe making sweet sandwich at the breakfast table, confirming her statement here.

Milan taking revenge for Zoë on a sleeping Senne in this episode, him helping Robbe prank Moyo for being homophobic in a later one.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Milan’s breakfast is a banana. Senne pulling Zoë into their bed, without her spilling the coffee in her hand.

Vrijdag 18:02

Perfect parallel: Luca dissing Moyo’s sexist statements with “Do you actually have a girlfriend? ... I understand why” earlier, her saying “Moyo, then you better take a good look at it, because it will be the last time you’ll see that room” here.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Zoë and Jana hugging each other outside. Luca giving Moyo a clear wink after dissing him. Robbe didn’t expect Noor to sleep with him in the bunkbed, as his face falls when she says she will.

Vrijdag 22:04

C is for culture: "It isn’t because he isn’t here...” - The reason that Senne couldn’t join their trip to the seaside, is that he doesn’t have a fall break. Universities usually start their school year a week later than university colleges, so they’re the only ones who don’t have a vacation at the end of October.

Perfect parallel: Robbe looking at drunk Noor with a sad expression of “Why can’t I just love this girl?” in this episode, him looking at a sleepy Sander with a face filled with love in the last episode.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Robbe trying to pry Noor’s hands away from his body.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Senne responds with “#metoo” as a joke, referencing the movement and him missing Zoë. Her face freezes for a few seconds to indicate that she is indeed jealous. Robbe’s little wink at Luca.

#wtfock #wtfam #skam #skam belgium #cpm rewatch

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k1nky-fool · 3 years

Text

Between Regulations and Protocols

Part 1/?

Pairing: Thrawn x OC

m/f pairing

Rating: Teen

Warnings: bit of angst, introductions to characters and story.

Taglist: none yet. If you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to DM me or comment on this chapter.

It wasn’t as though she could have prevented this disaster. However, there were certainly moments which, in hindsight, could have been changed just by thinking through a decision with a wiser mind. By now, it was much too late, and the mess left in front of Ceka was as regrettable as it was dangerous.

For her at least, this was dangerous. She hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. As far as she was concerned one or two of the indulgences she allowed herself were fine. It was when these “indulgences” became so regular they might as well be the rule, that it began to be a problem.

Every time Ceka gave herself that allowance, every rule in the book ran through her head, making sure that none were being broken. As far as the book was concerned, crushing this hard on a superior was not forbidden so long as it was not acted upon and the individual in question’s work is not compromised.

There were rules for relationships. Probably because Ceka’s current predicament was not uncommon. Especially when one was serving under an officer as respectful and intelligent as Grand Admiral Thrawn. Feelings happened, and rules were in place. And while rules were not broken, Ceka could snake her way around them without even so much as bending them.

It was necessary with her situation. Long before she was ever harboring feelings for the Grand Admiral, Ceka had to claw her way to the top as a Togruta in a system that was clearly designed to cut those like her down.

Perhaps that was what drew her to Grand Admiral Thrawn in the first place. As shallow and rude as it sounded, him being a non-human, thriving in such a rigged system was astounding to Ceka. She knew first-hand what it takes just to get out of the academy in one piece. It took bone, blood, and tears just to get to her current position. It was probably another level of hell in reality to get to a position where people took orders from him instead of having to fight for enough recognition to be respected as a living being.

Of course the first thing she did when assigned as an ISB consultant on The Chimera was to do her research on her superior. Even if he wasn’t such a sight for sore eyes, she would have looked into him, just to get a map of the territory she was treading on. Ceka had served under her fair share of slimy bastards and downright war criminals.

Much to her surprise, he was almost spotless. A court marshall, but it wasn’t a severe offense, at least not to her. Above all else, nobody had anything very malicious to say about working under him. There were plenty of people who were conflicted, taking orders from a non-human. However, the vast majority of people, even Stormtroopers, had relatively nice things to say about working under him.

What they did say was that Grand Admiral Thrawn was a rather imposing presence. He ran a seamless ship, left little room for error so long as the crew did their work. It was said he was a ruthless strategist, which didn’t surprise Ceka in the slightest considering what she had read of him. He was intimidating, but very few had any elaboration on that comment. She didn’t see for herself until she was called into his office the next day. Ceka hadn’t the slightest idea of what he wanted.

Entering his office was damn near surreal. Ceka hadn’t met anyone in Imperial High Command that held such a collection of art. And especially not such a diverse lineup either. Everything from a Mirialan statuette of a goddess she couldn’t name, to a segment of a durasteel wall covered corner-to-corner in generations of graffiti, to a Clone’s painted helmet from the war it was so known for. The Grand Admiral, himself, was nowhere to be found.

Right away, this struck Ceka as odd. The art was the lesser of two analyses in her mind. She had been called over her wrist comm to meet Grand Admiral Thrawn in his office, where he is not currently present. If it were a prank from a superior officer for some hazing she was too familiar with, then it would have been a better move to call her here while the admiral was present. If it was indeed the admiral that sent for her, then there was a reason for this.

In interrogation, making the suspect wait was a tactic to put them on edge. And if that was the admiral’s goal, then it was working. But it wouldn’t do well to leave an unknown individual in your office, especially since she knew it was more than likely that he knew she was looking him up as soon as she got here. Letting her in here without supervision was a foolish move.

Unless of course, she wasn’t unsupervised.

Keeping her wits about her, Ceka began walking around the office, carefully observing everything in the room. To anyone watching, it would look more like she was admiring all the art on display, when in reality, she was scanning over every surface in search of anything that might be a recording device. If it’s sending a live feed, then it’ll be in something that can easily conceal wires or large enough and shaped well enough to hide an antenna to transmit the data to a screen somewhere.

She mentally cleared a random painting, and the durasteel graffiti wall. A few of the sculptures could barely fit enough material in them to remain standing, so those were cleared too. The Mirialan statuette was too small to hide anything. And it would be easy to see the mechanisms of a recording device inside.

More suddenly than Ceka would have liked, she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to the clone helmet. She felt stupid as soon as she noticed it; this particular helmet was outfitted with a recorder by its visor. They were used to record and review battlefield footage in the Clone War. The antenna on the helmet and the device itself fit the categories to send live feed to a holoscreen somewhere. “Very subtle, Grand Admiral. I wish I had noticed sooner, but if you were looking to challenge me, you certainly did a good job.”

A door on the side of the office hissed open, revealing the man that set up this whole charade. “Not one new crew member has deduced the design of the test until now. Most giving in to impatience long before they attempt to find reason.”

“You do this with every new crew member?” She asked.

“Everyone assigned to The Chimera ranked Lieutenant or higher.” He said. “However, as mentioned, you are the first to realize you were being observed. Let alone to find the device I was watching from.”

Ceka wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that. She was half certain he was complimenting her, but there was also a chance he was just thinking out loud about what he had observed. “Seeing as I am an ISB agent, and in charge of interrogation, I would hope I know my way around observation tactics.”

“You have found a place where your talents are put to good use.” He said, “However, I do find myself rather curious about you.”

Ceka moved to the space in front of his desk as he moved behind it to take something out of one of the drawers. "I'm more than happy to answer any questions you have." She said.

"I will keep that in mind." He noted, pulling something up in the holoprojector. It was just about every file The Empire kept on her. Every mission, every report, every personal file, and even her academy registration. "Much like yourself, I did my research when you were assigned to The Chimera. I must say, your talents are exemplary, yet based on the impression you made when faced with my test, your files do not add up."

Clearly the lack of reaction from her made him all the more interested. In truth, she expected he might say that. "What specifically do you want to know?"

"Agent Lo, I am no stranger to the ruthless ends humans will go to in order to assure they are not upstaged by someone they deem less than themselves." He cut in. "Yet you have managed to reach your current rank without any recorded incident. Not even so much as uniform code violation marres your record."

"I consider myself an upstanding agent." She said, as though to tell him respectfully to get to the point.

"Then tell me, Agent, why is it you actively dull any record of your success?"

"Sir?"

"I understand the need to blend in with your peers." He continued, "However every record that mentions an accomplishment of yours has been buried in unnecessary details; even your own reports follow this pattern."

Ceka could feel her throat tighten and her face heat as Thrawn observed her carefully as though he could see through her skin. He was indeed as intimidating as everyone had said. She had said she was willing to answer whatever questions he had, and now she wished she hadn't said that.

She forced herself to relax. "You said it yourself. I need to blend in with my peers. And you know better than anyone else what they're willing to do to cut me down should I rise above them." Ceka explained. "It's a method of survival, that is all. Remaining at the average minimizes the harassment I receive."

Thrawn considered her words. "Why minimize it?" He asked. "It would be far easier to simply retire from military service."

A small smile graced her face. There was so much more to her than just self preservation. "Because retiring is not my goal, sir."

"What is your goal, agent?"

There was the right question. "To make my home planet whole again." She answered without hesitation. "The Galactic Empire has redistributed the population of Shili to only major cities and tribes they had the ability to commit troops to. My tribe was among the many to be forced off their ancestral territory. My goal is to climb ISB ranks until I can bring to light that it is more dangerous to The Empire to force Togrutas off their homeland than to commit minimal troops to the smaller tribes."

"A noble cause, Agent Lo." He noted. "I have come to a decision. I expect you to take full credit for every successful assignment I give you. Should I find in any of your reports that you belittle your role in the accomplishment, the report will be rejected, and I will require a new one."

"Ah- sir, I-"

"That will be all, Agent Lo, you are dismissed."

Ceka opened her mouth to speak again, but the rulebook went through her head again. Disobeying orders was an offence one could be court marshalled for. But voicing disagreements were not prohibited, even though any officer would find a way to punish you for questioning orders.

However here, Ceka would risk it. "Indulge me for one more minute, sir." She all but demanded, causing him to once again pay close attention to her. "I understand what you're doing. You want me to step up; to be something greater than I am. Because after hearing what I am trying to accomplish, you believe you have a better strategy than I do."

Her words caught him off guard. She didn't give him enough time to recover before she continued. "I acknowledge that I probably don't have the best strategy. However, if you are going to require me to bend to your plan for my own life, then you're going to need a better strategy to get me to follow along." Ceka held her head high, and hid her nerves behind a strong voice. "Because if there is anything I know you have learned from your test and our minimal interactions, it is that I am patient, especially when I am being beat down and discarded."

"This is your way of telling me you do not intend to abandon your methods?" He inquired.

"This is my way of showing you the merits of my methods." She clarified. "And hopefully, I will change your mind."

Thrawn scanned her face once again, coming to some unknown conclusion. "It is unwise to reveal your end goal to the enemy."

Ceka offered a modest smile. "You are not my enemy, sir."

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way out the door. Ceka's heart raced and she had to make a solid effort to slow her breathing. Right then she promised herself that arguing with him would be forbidden from there on out. That was far too dangerous, and it was a miracle Thrawn hadn't cut her off and refused to hear her out. He could have her off The Chimera by morning. But even then she knew that this was an empty promise.

-X-

As it turns out, eighty-four was the magical number of rejected reports before Grand Admiral Thrawn finally gives in and calls you into his office to renegotiate the terms of his orders. It took twenty-eight days to reach this point. Every day, she would eat her meals and write out a new report to the same mission, even if Thrawn had yet to notify her that the last one was rejected. Ceka stood in front of his desk once again, as he flipped through all eighty-four reports on the holoprojector.

It was one single mission. An investigation into disappearing medical supplies from a medicenter on Pantora, that Ceka had figured out pretty quickly. But every single one of them was worded to shine the light of success into anyone other than her.

Thrawn must have been looking for something in the reports, but he was coming up empty handed. It was another brief moment before he shut off the holoprojector. "I admit, I underestimated your talent for persistence."

She couldn't have been more excited to hear that from him. In all honesty, it was wearing her out. Finding new ways to reword the same events was exhausting. "However, what you have shown me is something I did not expect to find." He said, now slowly walking around his desk to circle her. "My attempt to outsmart you was quickly turned into a challenge to outlast you. However, it has answered more questions about you than I could ever ask."

"I am glad the experience was illuminating, sir." She was careful not to appear smug or prideful in any way, even if she was rather proud of herself for this.

"What has come to light is exactly how you managed to remain unseen by those that wish to do you harm, yet impress those that you wish to be more visible to." He explained. "I would like to see you put this to use more often."

"What do you have in mind, sir?"

"To start, I will rescind my orders to take more praise in your reports." Thrawn said, causing Ceka to smile. "In light of your tenacity, I have another duty for you. As it is already one of your many tasks on my ship to assess the officers and troopers for information leaks, I would also like you to send me reports of those who rise above their peers."

Ceka was surprised to receive such a request from him. "Pardon me, sir, but can't you select your elite by looking at the reports yourself?"

"It has occured to me that you are far from the only officer under my command that hides behind their more obnoxious coworkers and modest wording in reports. Unfortunately, due to their efforts, it is difficult to find the more competent workers of my fleet." He explained. "You are in a particularly beneficial position to solve this problem. Seeing as you are not only interacting with the lower ranks of my fleet on a closer level, you also know what to look for in those that possess the same skill set as you."

"It takes one to know one." Ceka chuckled awkwardly, knowing exactly what he meant. Honestly it was a miracle he even saw her point of view at all. Let alone be open to changing his mind and instead giving her an assignment that they both agreed would suit her talents. "I can do that, sir."

"That is much appreciated, agent." Thrawn said, "You are dismissed."

Ceka turned to leave, but she stopped herself. Once again the rules made her hesitate. It might not be professionalism at its best, but she would give herself this allowance. "Oh, grand admiral, sir?"

Thrawn turned to face her once more. He was no longer a stranger to how bold Ceka Lo could be, but this time she wasn't angry. Instead, she smiled kindly. "Thank you. For giving me a chance." It was a split second, so fast she wasn't even sure it was completely real; Thrawn returned with a small percentage of a smile to her.

There was a faster moment that Ceka felt herself take a moment to recover, where her heart stuttered at the sight of him just smiling for a fraction of a second. However it was gone the moment she reminded herself where she was and who he was. "Sir." She nodded with a stern voice, bidding him goodbye before she marched back out the office door.

It was rare a superior gave her the time of day. And so rare to be given respect and a smile that Thrawn was the first to offer after many, many years of serving the Empire. Ceka held onto that image in her mind every time someone would say anything hurtful, or when someone would do something rude. She allowed herself to remember Thrawn gave her a chance to prove herself, and he respected her for it.

There were moments that she stood in his office again, whether it be for a strategy meeting or a PSA for the higher ranked officers, Ceka hoped to whatever god in the galaxy was listening that she might catch another glimpse of his smile.

He smirked quite often, she found. Not that it was very easy to notice those either, but once she was watching, she noticed. It was usually when he was explaining his strategy to his officers that his expressions were slightly more discernible. For the most part, he kept the same even tone, and strong, calculated glare. Red eyes kept up with every little detail going on around him, and Ceka had to wonder exactly which details he noticed.

Really at this point, Ceka found she looked for any reason to be around Thrawn. He was an island of peace in an ocean of exhausting people. But what really made her start to worry was when he probably figured out he was her island.

It was rather chaotic in the aftermath of an attack. The way The Chimera was run made the battle itself run like a well oiled machine. However, trying to get everyone on the same page, especially if there were significant losses, was pretty much hell.

One particular flight officer was being specifically infuriating. She just wanted to know how many TIE fighters they had left. Ceka did not need to know who was flying, and who came back, or why only four fighters could land properly. Cykla went off on another tangent about how they were going to need repairs before she finally cut him off. "Cykla, just tell me how many TIE fighters we have left in the fleet."

Despite her even tone, Ceka had murder on her mind and it must have shown on her face with how he shut up immediately. "Six."

"Great…" She hissed out. "Now I can go to my job and tell the Grand Admiral we need more TIE fighters. You are dismissed, Cykla."

He gave a curt nod, running off to do whatever the hell else he had to to get this ship running at full capacity again. Ceka busied herself punching the numbers into a slow datapad, being on the verge of throwing it against a wall.

"I take it Officer Cykla was being difficult." Thrawn's voice made her jump slightly, but the second her eyes landed on him, she gave a small smile, and she visibly relaxed.

"Just a little slow." Ceka chuckled, still trying to hit the datapad to get the damn number to punch in. "Which seems to be a running theme today."

"Is there something wrong with your datapad, Agent?" He asked.

"I dropped it off the hyperdrive room railing when the ship was first hit. Didn't have the chance to get it back until a few minutes ago, but it looks like a few people might have stepped on it." She explained, knocking it against her montral and hearing something make a pinging sound echo around in her head. That couldn't be a good sign. "Well, that's unfortunate. I have a few nostalgic files on this datapad."

"I am curious of what you might keep on a datapad that one would find nostalgic." He said.

"Oh, it was just a few of the Pantora Medicenter Investigation reports I never got to give you. I kept writing them until you told me I could stop." She shrugged.

"How many reports did you write?" He asked with clear curiosity.

Ceka actually had to think hard for a moment. "You gave up at eighty-four, but I had a few extras on queue. I wrote a total of one-hundred-two reports."

Thrawn usually did a great job of hiding his emotions, but ever since Ceka started paying close attention to him, she began noticing the smallest expressions he gave. Right now his eyes went to the side, as though he had to give himself a moment to process that information. There were eighteen more reports on that one mission. All of them ready to be rejected, where she was ready to write more.

When he did look back to her, Ceka was smiling again, now trying to stop herself from laughing. "Do you find something amusing, Agent Lo?"

She really wished she could say no. Usually when a superior officer asked that question it just meant to stop smiling and take things seriously. However it was not in Thrawn's nature to use many euphemisms or human sayings, so he was genuinely asking. "Yes, sir." She nodded, still smiling as she explained herself. "It's not all that difficult to read your expressions. And when I told you how many reports I had written it was like every gear in your head stopped turning all at once. I thought it looked a little uncharacteristic is all."

Thrawn became more interested in her words. "I have rarely heard that it is easy to read my expressions. In fact most say the exact opposite."

Now it was her turn to stop and think. How in the hells did she hope to explain this to him? Was she supposed to tell Grand Admiral Thrawn that he spent just about every moment of every day hoping to see him, or that if she did get to see him that she carefully watched him in hopes of seeing him smile again? No, that would be very bad. But lying to a superior officer was quite specifically stated in the regulation.

"I'm in ISB. I guess I'm just very good at watching for small details." Both statements were true. She didn't have to tell him that the two statements had little to no correlation in reality or that she was only good at watching him for close details. Everyone else she just knew how to interrogate.

A beat of a moment went by before she caught it. Another split second where he gave a genuine smile, only for it to be gone the next second. The instant that passed by in silence before he answered felt like an eternity. "Indeed you are."

His answer left Ceka more distressed than trying to figure out how to avoid confessing her every private thought to him. Did he know she was hiding something? Did he know all along what she was doing? She wanted answers, but nobody but Thrawn could give them to her. She was all the more terrified of what those answers might be.

Though, it was nice to come back to her cabin late that night to find a new datapad waiting on her desk.

She didn't see Thrawn for a while after that. Not one on one, at least. She would occasionally catch him in the bridge as she was doing rounds with all the stations. Though when Ceka looked over to him out of habit, more often than not, he would already be closely observing her. Every time he did, she would tense up again and focus back on her work.

The heart stopping call came later that week. Thrawn asked to see her in his office once again. She had no idea what this could be about, and nothing about the last week really stood out. And especially not since their awkward conversation.

Though, he didn't waste any time as soon as she entered the art-filled space. Right away, she could tell something was up. Thrawn had never looked so worn out, not even after talking to the lieutenants. "Agent, if you are not currently indisposed, I would appreciate some assistance."

"What do you need?" Ceka asked without hesitation. Either she would get this over with or she would have to prepare herself for a long task.

"There was an incident with a terrorist group on the planet surface this afternoon. Unfortunately, Commander Bengts is on medical leave for the next three weeks, and since you and I are the only officers left with the clearance and skills necessary to review the reports, we are the only ones to be able to complete the processing." He explained.

"Would these usually just go into filing? Unless there's something specifically abnormal about this incident?" Thrawn had already sent the reports to her datapad.

"Yes. According to several eyewitness accounts, an imperial officer was seen giving information and weapons to three of the attackers just before it began."

Ceka took a long breath, calming her nerves. It didn't help that she was already on shaky ground with Thrawn as she was still questioning if he was aware of her growing fondness for him. Good thing endurance was her specialty, otherwise she would have given up the first time he smiled at her.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she came to her choice. "This probably means they're waiting on some kind of information to pass on. They're not yet ready for a full attack, which is why they simply aided the terrorists and didn't blow their cover. By your estimation, how long do we have before such an informant gets their hands on severely damaging information?"

"Depending on their rank, approximately two days. In the next fifty hours, I will be receiving a transmission from the Imperial headquarters on the surface to account for the current number of troopers on guard and officers working." He answered.

Ceka took her datapad and began searching through the reports. "The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can sleep." She said. "Unfortunately, time is not something we have the luxury of."

-X-

-Thrawn-

"Let us start with who was present on the ground during the attack-"

"No, we need to start with who exactly these terrorists are, and what they were doing. What was their mission? How did they accomplish it? Where did they escape to after its completion? Or if they completed their mission at all." Ceka interjected. "We've been here on Wutellou for about a standard month. Start with the locals. What do we know about them as a people?"

Her interruption surprised him to say the least. To be completely honest, she hadn't ever stopped surprising him. However, Ceka had the right approach to the problem. He was certain she would just let him take the lead, but it was becoming increasingly clear that despite her near religious commitment to subtlety, when it came to him she was anything but reserved the way she was with everyone else. It was easy to see why Agent Ceka Lo had captured Thrawn's attention.

"Tellouans are a very spiritual people. They also place most of their values into unity and connection to one another and their planet." He explained. "The population seems to worship the ground, as a way of giving respect to the very thing that gives them the vegetation they grow for food and spiritual practices."

"That… sounds awfully familiar."

"I imagine it would." He said, pulling up a few sources on his holoprojector. "Watellou shares many similarities with your homeworld, Shili."

"However, they're largely vegetarians, from what I can gather. There aren't many animals big enough to eat on Watellou." Ceka noted, in a somewhat short tempered way. "So, they probably aren't as culturally focused on hunting as my people."

Thrawn noted how she grumbled about the lack of meat on the planet. It had occurred to him that Togrutas were carnivores, and unable to eat most of the food served in the mess. Though, he did make sure she wasn't starving, even though there wasn't a whole lot of good food for Ceka to eat. "You did say they hold a deep connection to their planet." She recalled. "So, it would be a fair assumption that they don't want the Imperial agricultural project on their planet, since it is so sacred to them."

"That is logical, yes." He agreed. "Which means their attacks are not likely to be carried out on a large scale, so as not to harm the ground."

"Let's take a look at the reports." She turned to her datapad, connecting it with the holoprojector. "The report of the soldier that saw what type of weapons were being smuggled said they were E-11 blaster rifles. However weapons were not the only thing given to the insurgents."

"The inventory report after the attack states several crates of empty gas canisters were also missing." Thrawn pointed out. "An attack utilizing poison gas would assure the land attacked would not be harmed."

One look to Ceka proved she was enjoying herself while digging for information. "Guess what the most poisonous plant on Watellou is." A smile cracked across her cheeks as she pulled an info file of a simple flower onto the projector. "The Osella blossom is a flower that is only found in the very few coniferous forests on Watellou. The one closest to where the supply warehouse was attacked is owned by a local businessman, who employs many people to gather these flowers. Oddly enough, four days ago, he reported that a large portion of his freshly picked flowers had gone missing."

Thrawn looked over the file on the flowers. "Only the roots are poisonous. The flower petals are dried and used for a tea that is very popular among the locals. Boiling the roots will secrete a poisonous gas known as Lesurra gas." He read. "We know the insurgents are planning a large gas attack. More than likely on the Imperial command center that has been established."

"So we know what they want, how they plan to do it, and because of the information you will be getting in the next two days, we know when they plan to do it." Ceka concluded. "Now we just need to figure out who is planning to leak that information to them."

"Now we must narrow down the list of suspects based on reports." He said. Ceka took a deep breath, finding a seat on his desk as she began reading through reports.

The low light of the holoprojector illuminated her more now that she was seated right next to it. The blue light did little to change the tone of her skin. It was rare that Thrawn met many Togrutas in his line of work, however, even Ceka was certainly something of a rare specimen of her species.

When Thrawn was researching her, he found that the specific shades of light blue that showed on her skin were only found in two clans of the Lo Tribe, and nowhere else on Shili. Ceka had a very soft appearance. Her age wasn't shown anywhere other than the length of her lekku, which placed her perhaps a year or two younger than himself. Her montrals rounded backward off her head and spiked back up like horns. The patterns across her skin were soft, bubbled shapes that spread all around like water.

But it didn't take a military genius to know she was so much more vicious than her appearance suggested. Particularly her deep violet eyes, that scanned everything as though it could give her something if she just convinced it of such. Ceka bit her lip in focus on the task at hand. She was quite brilliant, even if she was convinced her only talents were in enduring brutal treatment. Thrawn wanted nothing more than to show her that she had other talents that could help her never see such brutal treatment ever again.

In some ways Thrawn noticed Ceka's favor of him, though usually only through her demeanor. It confused him how she could manage to be both comfortable expressing herself to him and rigid the second he acknowledged her comfort.

In many ways, Thrawn saw himself being drawn to her. He rarely bothered to know his subordinates more than basic research, and in truth, Ceka was one of only seven people to ever peak his interest enough to give them the test she passed with such ease. Her response had only heightened his curiosity of her character. Even this was an opportunity for him to learn more about her. And every time he learned something new, his interest only grew.

This was indeed going to be a long night.

-X-

It had been nearly eight hours. Four a.m. galactic standard time. Every report from the warehouse had been looked through, and even people that weren't planetside had been looked into. Nothing looked even remotely suspicious.

"I don't suppose you've already ruled out the possibility that they had someone impersonate an officer?" Ceka asked with a dragging voice. She laid on her back on Thrawn's desk, staring up at the holograms that still hadn't given them a lead.

"You ruled that out three hours ago." He reminded her. "If I recall correctly, you said a Tellouan with a skin color and texture similar to a human's would be more rare than finding one with horns small enough to fit into an officer's uniform. I also agreed, stating that using an infiltrator would not guarantee they would be able to get the information they need for their attack."

"You're right." Ceka groaned, rubbing her eyes again. "Either way, we're running out of time. Forty-seven hours to find a traitor with no leads is damn near impossible."

"You say 'near impossible.' Is there something you believe would make the task at hand possible?" He asked.

"The ability to drink three gallons of caf in a minute would be helpful." She said, "More people to look through the reports would be useful. Many hands make for light work, after all, but alerting our subordinates that there is a traitor amidst them is too high of a risk. I think it's impossible to find the culprit in time with only two people."

Thrawn was impressed with Ceka in the eight hours they had spent together theorizing and even arguing at times. However, he would admit he would have never gotten this far on his own, this fast. Most of the investigation is credited to Ceka. It was his job to help her investigate, then come up with a plan once they had found their traitor.

"Agent, you are an exemplary investigator. If there is anyone that can accomplish this in the given timeframe, it is you." He said.

Suddenly, Ceka sat up. About a million thoughts looked to be passing behind her eyes before she settled on one. "Timeframe…." Her voice was quiet, as she once again took control of the holoprojector, still sitting on his desk. "We're looking at the wrong timeframe."

She pulled up personnel files from everyone who was planetside for the last four days. "Remember, four days ago, the report of a missing batch of Osella flowers was given by a local businessman?" She asked. "We know his own employee probably stole them, right?"

"That was the logical conclusion, yes." Thrawn agreed.

"First, what if the traitor isn't working alone?"

"Then I suppose only half of the information would be present in the reports of the warehouse attack. The other half would be with someone we have already ruled out, thus making it impossible for us to find the culprits on those reports, alone." He reasoned. "Who do you suspect?"

"Four days ago, Commander Bengts was hospitalized. The morning after the Osella flower batch went missing." Ceka explained with a smile on her face, searching for a minute before pulling up the commander's medical file.

Thrawn read the file thoroughly before landing on something that Ceka must have known would be there by the way she smiled. "Reason for hospitalization: Toxin inhalation." He read out loud.

He turned to Ceka once again, only to find her still smiling. "We can order a test for the Osella toxin and have the results in the next two hours."

"That only leaves her accomplice." Thrawn noted, searching through the reports again to see which officer specifically has been stationed with Commander Bengts for their assignment to Watellou. One name stuck out. "Supply Officer Cykla was planetside, stationed at the warehouse during the attack." He pointed out. "Cykla was also the officer that filled out the inventory report of what was stolen. And has also been assigned to the command center tomorrow to report inventory, where he will have access to the transmissions being sent from the command center."

Ceka placed her feet on the ground, standing tall, but a little wobbly from the sleep deprivation. "Shall I set up interrogations, sir?"

"No need." He ordered. "I will give the order to have Commander Bengts tested for the Osella toxin, and I shall reassign Officer Cykla to accompany me to organize the information from the command center. He will be forced to abandon his original plan and act in panic, giving us the evidence we need to incriminate him."

"I can help, sir. You don't need to carry this out alone." She was nearly pleading even if she could keep it behind a thin layer of professionalism.

"I am sure you can offer your skills to the mission. However you are sleep deprived, and until you are well rested, you would be unnecessarily placing yourself in harm's way if you were to continue like this." Thrawn reasoned. "As of now, you are relieved of duty until you have recovered."

"But, sir-"

"That is an order, Agent Lo." His voice became stern, but as he watched Ceka, she appeared to halted all cognitive thought as she suppressed a shiver. Thrawn noticed how her face became hot and the muscles around her throat tightened. He was unaware that Togrutas not only blushed on their face, but also their lekku.

Ceka had to force herself to breath again. "Yes, sir." Was all she could get out from behind tense muscles and a figure frozen in place.

"You are dismissed."

She marched off in a hurry, though Thrawn didn't get the impression that she was scared at all. In fact she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit.

Thrawn decided to focus on the task at hand. He had just barely learned the nuances of human behavior, he didn't have the time to figure out what made Ceka tick before his command center was eradicated.

-X-

-Ceka Lo-

After Thrawn had commanded her to get some sleep, Ceka was having a surprising amount of difficulty letting go of consciousness. There was a lot to process, particularly about how the entire night had gone.

She hadn't meant to so casually sit on his desk, though when he didn't stop her or even mention it, Ceka allowed herself to get comfortable. They had started the night speaking with formalities, though as time progressed and exhaustion began to take hold, she began interrupting him when she felt like it, as he would for her. She swore a few times without any shame. When she laid down on his desk, he didn't say anything. She took every liberty, and Thrawn gave them without any question.

But at the very end of it all, the order he gave her wasn't what surprised her. It was her own reaction to how he spoke. Heat shot up her spine and she stood at complete attention. What shocked her was that she honestly didn't expect to be given an order, despite everything Ceka had drilled into her head from day one at the academy. Somehow, she felt comfortable enough around Thrawn that it was a surprise when he did normal, imperial, things.

Though, even then Ceka knew this could only be the beginning of something terrible.

-X-

Somehow she managed to pass out after an hour. When she awoke again, everything appeared to be working smoothly. No trooper was out of place, no officer looked worried, and all was as though Ceka never fell asleep in the first place. Though, a quick look at her wrist chrono told her it had been nearly six hours.

Walking through corridors to Thrawn's office, she found something must be working well. There were two troopers standing guard instead of just one. "I take it Cykla is in there?"

"Yes sir." The command trooper confirmed. The other flinched when he spoke. Suddenly the other trooper was very interesting.

"Is something bothering you, trooper?" Ceka asked with a warm smile. She wasn't ignorant of her appearance. She was rather soft looking, and it was easy for people to underestimate her or trust her. Most people she interrogated were more likely to trust a non-human because of how rare they were in the Empire.

The trooper stood firmly at attention. "No sir." There was something off about his voice. Though, with two words, it was difficult to place.

"It's ok to be anxious. I'm sure anyone would be worried once they wondered why the grand admiral doubled the security in his office." She suggested. The trooper must have been eyeing her cautiously behind his helmet.

"I assure you, I'm fine sir." He said. Now Ceka could place it.

"You won't be." Before he could even flinch, she knocked the blaster out of his hand and rammed his head into the wall. The command trooper aimed his gun at the two of them, unsure as to what was going on. "At ease, soldier." She said, taking the helmet off the unconscious criminal, revealing dark green skin, and very small horns for one of his kind. "He was probably back up."

"How did you know?"

"His Tellouan accent." She said, restraining the prisoner. "Now I just need to see what his plan was. Take him to containment. I'll stand guard here."

"Yes, sir." He replied faithfully, throwing the infiltrator over his shoulder and carrying him away. Ceka pulled her blaster out, and set it to stun, now waiting for Cykla to make a break for it.

A loud crash came from inside the office, and the door hissed open. She stunned Cykla as soon as she laid eyes on him. Thrawn looked between Ceka and the man on the floor with mild amusement. "May I set up interrogations now, sir?"

Thrawn calmly caught his breath, wiping some of the blood off his cheek. "Yes, Agent Lo, that would be the wisest course of action."

...

Thrawn and Ceka stood together, watching the live feed from the two interrogation rooms, waiting for Cykla to regain consciousness. The Tellouan infiltrator nervously fiddled with the cuffs on his wrists, probably trying to find a way to break them off.

"Commander Bengts tested positive for the Osella toxin." Thrawn said, "She has been placed under arrest, but is still recovering."

"We'll need more evidence if we want to convict her. Getting one of these two to admit she's an accomplice should be enough, but I am not confident they'll talk for anything short of their freedom." She noted, looking at the two of them. Cykla was now gaining consciousness, frantically looking around the room and struggling against the restraints.

"Perhaps striking a deal with them is necessary."

Something was finding Ceka rather uncomfortably, and she wanted nothing more than to tear it apart to find out what exactly made it that way. It was Officer Cykla. He's panicking and struggling far too much for someone that had a decent plan until now.

"Perhaps not." She said, exiting the observation room and entering the interrogation.

-Thrawn-

Cykla was quick to stop moving as soon as Ceka entered the room. She didn't say anything as she sat down on the table to his left.

Thrawn couldn't see much from here, yet at the very least he could tell she wasn't trying to be imposing. She reached across the table and released his restraints, sitting back on the table comfortably and without any sign of defensiveness.

She was waiting for something. Pushing this man to the edge of something, but waiting for him to jump off on his own. Ceka remained silent. From the angle of the holorecorder, Thrawn couldn't see her face, but he almost intrinsically knew she was giving her subject a kind smile.

The silence must have become unbearable to the human. "What do you want, Lo?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She said, "You see, a witness at the scene of the attack yesterday saw you aiding the terrorists in their escape, but there's something that's gone completely unanswered, and I want you to give it to me."

"I'm not about to turn on my allies." He hissed back at her.

"Oh- no you aren't. Certainly not yet." She said, "At least not without a reason to. I happen to be in a position to get you just a year of community service, and a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Navy. Where you can live out the rest of your life doing whatever you want."

"And what in the hells makes you think I value myself over my cause?"

"Why shouldn't you?" She asked as though she were genuinely concerned. "I've seen how much value your life has. And I believe it's worth more than being executed on a treason charge." Cykla broke eye contact and stared at the floor. "I'm not a fool enough to believe you don't have people you're doing this for. Wouldn't it be better to go home and see them again?"

Cykla came to his conclusion quickly. "I want to negotiate those terms." He said.

"Then negotiate."

"I tell you who my associate is, and I take the blame for everything." He said, "Everything was my idea, and she was forced to take orders from me. She gets to live."

"Cykla, you will be executed for this."

"But she won't." He stated. "I want this agreement in writing. So you can't back out after I'm gone."

"Your accomplice must mean quite a lot to you." Ceka noted.

"She is everything and more to me." He said.

Ceka stood from the table and exited the interrogation chamber. Making her way back to the observation room where Thrawn was waiting for her.

She was clearly torn by the situation. She began tapping through her datapad.

"What are you looking for?" Thrawn asked.

"Commander Bengts' medical record." She said, "I have a strong suspicion about why Cykla is so desperate to protect her."

"And why would that be?" Thrawn asked, curious about what Ceka saw that he missed.

Suddenly she stopped scrolling, her shoulders deflating in defeat. Handing the datapad to him, she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the wall, perhaps in regret.

Thrawn looked at the data on the medical file. It was a few pages after the tox screen results, so it wasn't important at the time they were initially investigating. However, it was possibly the most important piece of information in the whole investigation. "She's pregnant."

Ceka nodded. Now it made more sense why she was so torn on this decision. "Tell me I'm being too soft." Her voice held strong, but the tensity in her muscles said otherwise about her emotions. "Tell me we should just execute them both, and move on with our lives. That it's better to just manipulate his confession and charge them both with treason like every other officer would."

"Do you truly believe that to be the wisest course of action in this case?" Thrawn asked.

"I want to believe it is in my best interest."

"Yet you are still questioning it."

"By Imperial Law, I need a confession from him to charge her. But if he doesn't confess to her being an accomplice, then there's nothing I can do, and at most she'll be medically discharged." Ceka went through her thought process. "Either way, Cykla is going to be charged with treason. There's no way I can get around that."

"Then perhaps you don't want him to give up Bengts." Thrawn suggested. "She will be medically discharged, and you don't live with that on your conscience."

"I can't allow Imperial Law to be determined by the weight on my conscience." She argued.

"Then don't allow it." He stated.

"It'll be a failed interrogation on my near flawless record."

"Attempting to rationalize the less favorable option will not help you make the decision you have already made."

Ceka bit her lip and closed her eyes. She took a moment to take a deep breath before neutralizing her expression and leaving to speak to Cykla again.

On the holoscreen, Ceka stood to her full height. "We will not abide by such an agreement for your accomplice."

"You what!?" Cykla burst. "You can't! She has to live!"

"It will take more investigation, but I am confident that I can find a name without your help." She calmly exited the room as Cykla struggled against the handcuffs.

Ceka didn't return to the observation room.

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x oc #thrawn #original chatacter #original story #star wars #ceka lo

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ineloqueent · 3 years

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wuthering heights

Lucy Boynton x Reader

synopsis: you say i killed you— haunt me, then.

warnings: allusions to homophobia

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i hate wuthering heights. that book was so dull that i nearly lost my mind. but... it has its moments. and so i’ve written this, inspired by a line from wuthering heights. @mazzell-ro , my fellow lucy stan, this is for you <3

⭒

1847

It had all started when Miss Lucy Boynton had come to stay at Wuthering Heights, your place of residence.

Miss Boynton had come to visit your cousin, Joseph, who was an expert on some historical matter or another, one which she herself was studying. Joe collected photographs, and apparently housed in his collection one which Miss Boynton had been searching for.

The day the carriage had rattled up the drive, you had stood at the window and looked out over the moors, at the cold, the mist, and then— a light. The glint of golden hair in the flickering gas lamps mounted outdoors upon the brickface of the manor, a shimmer of diamond upon her throat, wide blue eyes staring into the darkness.

Your introduction to her had been all but non-existent, a smile and a short hello, before Joe had dragged her away to the office, to show her, finally, that which she had been searching for.

You’d followed them quietly, but then thought better of it as their enthusiastic discussion of the new steamship network reached you. Recent history was not your forté, and you were not about to let Miss Boynton’s first impression of you be that you couldn’t carry a conversation.

So, you’d spent weeks upon weeks admiring her from afar, as she and Joe pored over photographs and books, played the odd game of chess, took tea in the dining hall.

Sometimes, Miss Boynton would encourage you to join her and Joe, but you always shook your head, declined quietly but politely.

You liked to imagine that her face fell every time you neglected to take part in their company. Oh, if only her face had fallen, then you would have known that you had meant something to her.

But you chided yourself for being ridiculous— how could you mean anything to her when you avoided her at nearly any cost?

Thus, after nights of tossing and turning, you elected to accept her invitations.

Her laughter was crystalline, both in sound and in beauty, and made you think of windchimes. She was elegant, too, and you were awed by her sophistication, how she moved fluidly, like she was made of water, rippling and sparkling beneath the light.

There was rarely any light here, for the fog blotted out the sun, and all those who lived on the moors were prone to a seasonal sort of depression— of which you understood all too well.

But with her, Miss Lucy had brought the sun, and you found yourself more greatful for her presence with every day that passed.

Soon enough, you longed to spend time with her, without Joe tagging along, to admire her quirks and conversation on a more personal level. But you could not find the courage to ask her to spend time with you alone, for why should she? Why should she want to?

Still, it irked you when she left your presence, because you longed for her friendship, for her to turn that warm smile upon you and provide clarity with her blue eyes. She seemed well-learned of the world around her, and you wanted to share in that knowledge.

It was the day in the library that you realised the true nature of your longing.

Lucy had been drawing a connection between a series of historical events, using pins and string, as Joe read to her different dates to add to the map, providing her with coordinates every now and then. You’d never seen a police investigation take place, but you imagined that the paperwork might have looked something like this.

You almost asked, in jest, whether they were investigating a homicide, but then stopped yourself. You knew Joe’s sense of humour would have appreciated the remark, but you worried Miss Lucy might have been displeased by your amusement. She was always poised and orderly, and, when not in the company of yourself and Joe, spoke only when spoken to. She did not seem to be a stickler for rules, necessarily, but rather as though she simply did not care to share her opinions with people whom she was not well-acquainted with. She kept to herself, and in a way, that was admirable to you, because you knew many people who could not keep their opinions to themselves, and spouted them frequently without anyone having requested them.

So, in the library, you rested your chin on your palm, and your elbow on the armrest of an overstuffed armchair, staring into the flames of the fireplace as Joe and Lucy chattered on.

“No,” Lucy was saying. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“It is,” Joe insisted.

“No,” said Lucy. “Those coordinates would place the coalition formation at the same spot as the photograph of ______, which isn’t right. I know for a fact that nothing in the ledger overlaps.”

“Well, that would mean that this here number has is something other than a three, which cannot be true, because that is most certainly a three.”

Lucy had been leaning over the table in order to reach the coordinate, and your eyes glanced over her slim figure as she straightened up.

She placed her hands on her hips.

You wondered what it might be like to be the one to touch her there, to skim your hands down her sides until they reached her waist, crested the soft curve of her hips. Or perhaps to place a kiss to her delicate collarbone—

With a start that lost your elbow contact with the armrest, you came to a realisation: your admiration was not simply one of aesthetic appreciation, but one of romantic intention.

A weight settled in your chest.

Lucy’s voice brought you back from the abyss of imagination, and you flushed upon recalling that it was her you had been thinking about.

“No, Joseph!” she laughed, a hand rising to obscure her mouth. “That’s an eight, not a three. You do need spectacles, you do!”

Joe blinked, raised the paper to his face, lowered it again. “My god, I do,” he muttered, and Lucy laughed again, cast her eyes around the room for someone to join in her humour.

But other than Joe, there was only you, and so that was where her eyes fell.

She stopped laughing when her eyes fixed upon yours, which was really a shame, given how utterly lovely she was when she laughed. She was always lovely, yes, but the sparkle in her eye always grew with her amusement.

You were ashamed to say that you simply stared at her when she looked to you.

Her smile slowly faded as her gaze lingered, and, uncomfortable, you folded your hands in your lap. Your face burned.

She winked.

Your mouth fell open. Lucy only turned back to Joe.

Maybe you’d imagined it. Or misunderstood it.

You started leaving the places she haunted before Joe did, so that there was never an accidental chance of being alone with her. You didn’t know what you might say if such a thing were to occur.

You spent the next two weeks recalling and analysing the incident. But a wink was a wink, was it not? On some level or another, it was a mischievous gesture, intended to convey a secret between two people, like a confidence, like solidarity.

When you spent time in the library, you began to gaze at her, to see if she would do it again, but she never did.

But there were other things.

She would call you to the table with the map for no reason at all, to ask you if a length of string was linear enough, or to have you confirm the coordinates which your cousin apparently struggled to read. She would hold out her hands to you, and take yours when you came close enough to her. She’d point something out on the map, and, coincidentally, looking at it always required you lean closer to her. Having stood with her for a while, as Joe talked, she would loop her arm through yours, and you would seize up at her touch, until her trailing fingers placated you with soft tracings over your hand.

You always left the room with a frown.

It had begun to eat away at you, how casually affectionate she was. Perhaps she was just one of those people, those people who was frivolous with their intimacy, shared it amongst their acquaintances like boiled sweets. But you didn’t think so. Afterall, she rarely spoke to people she did not know, so why should she be affectionate with strangers?

It had to mean something.

It reached the point where your hands grew loose and trembling when she smiled at you, and when she entered or left a room, you held your breath, fearing that she would speak to you in those dulcet tones of hers, or even worse— fearing she would change her opinion of you, and begin to ignore you entirely.

Then came the fateful day in which you fell asleep by the fire, and were awoken by Lucy, who knelt in front of you, a hand resting lightly upon your knee as she spoke your name.

“Darling, it’s nearly midnight,” she said. “Joe and I have just finished, and I think it’s time you got to bed, anyway.”

Silently, you cursed the lateness of the night.

How could you have allowed yourself to fall asleep, to find yourself alone with her, despite all of your efforts to avoid being so?

Hastily, you went to rise from your chair.

But her hand had not left your knee.

“Lucy,” you said, and she blinked, as though she had not realised.

“Sorry,” she murmured, curling her fingers back into her palm as she stood.

You straightened your skirts, though they were not in need of straightening, your heart pounding heavily as you found Joe absent from the scene.

You made a beeline for the door, and were halfway through the lightless hallway when Lucy’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. You did not turn around.

“Yes?” you said stiffly.

You heard her sigh softly. “Sometimes, I get the most horrible feeling.”

She was silent, and you pursed your lips, looking down at your pointed shoes. “A horrible feeling?” you inquired, your voice more of a grumble than you had intended.

“Yes. I get the most horrible feeling, as though… As though you do not like me, or something. As though you detest me, that you cannot stand to be in my company, as though it would kill you to spend another moment with me.”

You said nothing.

“Y/N?” Lucy spoke again, and you swallowed, because from the volume of her voice, you could tell that she had drawn closer.

The fire crackled in the background, and you wondered dimly how long you had been asleep for.

In public company, such as when the neighbours came by, or people from town visited, it killed you to gaze at Lucy, because she could not return your lingering look without drawing suspicion. Of course, no one guessed at romantic affiliations between two women, because they only saw what they wanted to see. And by god, you knew that they thought your love a sin. However, it was still a risk to stare at her in the way you did.

But you loved her.

“You kill me,” you whispered, and turned.

She was standing right before you, had followed you into the hall. The fire was a backlight to her, and she burned at the edges of your vision, like staring into the sun. But she was ghostly pale in the darkness, and so she was not the sun, but the moon.

Slowly, she raised her hand until her fingers caressed your cheek, and you held your breath, frozen beneath her touch, though every inch of your skin seemed to burn.

Her lips parted as her eyes flicked to your mouth. “Then haunt me,” she murmured.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then in a breath, she kissed you.

Her hands were on your neck and her body was flush against yours, her fingers winding through the hair at the base of your head, her lips sound, her touch upon your skin as light as the brush of a willow tree.

You held her close with your arms around her waist, void of free-will as you melted into her, enraptured by the tenderness of her mouth, the softness of her skin, and the warmth of her.

In the dark, she was a flame, and you were the air in which she burned brighter, in which she flourished. The parting of her lips was intoxicating, and the feel of her fingers in your hair spilled heat through you, the burn of her touch far more powerful than the darkness which surrounded you both.

She ceased in her kiss, and brushed her nose against yours, her breath warming your skin.

You opened your eyes to find her glittering in the dim firelight which leaked from the library. And when she smiled gently, you found yourself suddenly grateful for the lateness of the night, for the blackness of the hall and the moors themselves.

These things were meant for the dark.

#tina's writing #lucy boynton x reader #fic

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

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Sheepless Sheep Girl ~Yin Zhi x Reader

Yin Zhi, the 3rd Prince, was a mystery for everyone living in the Palace, no matter their age, gender or even if they were his own relatives. He was truly an enigma that, no matter how much you’d try to decipher, you couldn’t. He was unique, a thorough individualist, and all he’d ever want to do is practice archery, study, read diverse literature books and enjoy a secluded life somewhere beautiful, all alone...Or perhaps, with someone by his side to understand him...

But he’s a weirdo, by everyone’s stuck up and closed-minded views, so he doubts he’d ever find anyone to actually get him and who he is.

He’s the 3rd Prince, after all, and since the 1st Prince died young, and the Crown Prince is a fuckass that everyone hates, people look at him to take up the reigns and become the best candidate to lead.

What a joke.

He couldn’t care less about trivial things like these - Being an Emperor is too much hassle than it’s worth. Too many responsibilities, too many people to hear and please, and way too many women and heirs needed...Too much socialisation, too many voices, lies, gossips, snakes and threats to deprive him of the peaceful life he always dreamt of.

Life, however, is an unexpected turn of events, and what was supposed to be just some basic archery training in some far away forest, and somehow, he ended up heavily injured, his horse running away, and he was barely able to keep himself standing.

He was beginning to hate himself for not telling anyone - Not even his eunuch - About his adventurous trip, so nobody would be looking for him any time soon...And maybe, by the time he is found, he will already be animal food, or dead from this wound overbleeding.

Perhaps sleeping at the base of this old oak tree wouldn’t be such a bad idea...

When he next opened his eyes, however, instead of feeling the hard bark of the tree he was leaning on, he felt himself in a weirdly comfortable...Bed? This couldn’t be...How COULD this be?

He shot up in a wild panic, only to feel a pair of hands on his bare, bandaged chest, pushing him gently back down on the bed. It was a beautiful girl with a gentle, yet exhausted complexion, eyes resembling those of a baby fawn, sweet and wet, filled with a myriad of emotions, and her hair looked shiny, long, let down, reaching below the waist, mimicking a gorgeous cascade.

“Please, don’t move too much. Your injuries were pretty grave. I disinfected and stitched them while you were unconscious, dressed them and...You risk ripping them and overbleeding.” she explained, gently brushing her fingers through his hair, getting it away from his face. “Who are you...? And how did you find me?” Yin Zhi asked in a tired, hoarse voice. “I am just a sheep girl. I found you by the Oak tree when I went out looking for mushrooms. I couldn’t possibly let an injured being die out there, helpless, could I?” she spoke with an amused smile...Her voice was so light and warming...What was so different about this woman that made her stand out so much? She’s no noble lady, she’s just some...Sheep girl, living alone, in the middle of the woods. “And how can a Sheep Girl treat such life-threatening wounds anyway?” his sharp eyes peered into hers, analysing her every single move and reaction. “My parents and I used to be the village’s physicians, so any little health issue would come our way. I may be young, but I have enough experience to treat such basic wounds like yours.” she got up, putting some more wood into the heater and stirring into the pot on the oven a few more times, she put stew in a bowl and taking a spoon, came back to sit by his side. “Then why do you live so far away from the village?” he murmured, getting in a sitting position with the help of the girl. “My...My parents died because of a new disease that struck the village. Many died...And while in that terrible state, my parents begged me to experiment on them to find an antidote...Which I did. It’s just...I got blamed for the deaths, so I was shunned. And here I am. Living out here, away from any problem, worry and annoying, stuck up people.” she shrugged simply, clearly used to the idea and the tragedy that befell her. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that.” the prince muttered, not knowing what to say in such a situation. “Don’t be. That’s how life is...Although, sometimes I miss socialising with actual people, not just with sheep.” she chuckled awkwardly, looking away. “It’s a peaceful place you’ve got here. I wish I could live in a secluded place, away from all the nosy and incompetent people out there.” Yin Zhi spoke out, almost without realising. “Would you mind sharing your story with someone you’ll never meet again, stranger whose name I don’t know?” she took the bowl away from him as soon as he finished eating. “Only if you vow to treat me the same as before.” his look changed into one of warning, but she was not intimidated in the least. “I’ve been away from socialising for a long time. Forgive my lack of manners, but I’ll behave with you the same way no matter the status you hold.” she shot right back, which made him smirk in delight. “My name is Yin Zhi, the Emperor’s 3rd Prince. And what is yours, mysterious physician?” he asked, waiting to hear the name of the brilliant woman taking care of him. “Y/N. Nice to meet you, Yin Zhi.”

Due to the gravity of the injuries, he had to stay for two weeks to recover, and in this time, he was able to discover who this girl really was, from her kindness, to her intelligence, her points of view, her choices in books, in literature, how versed she in sciences, in herbalism and many more.

Not to mention, despite his amusement about the 3 animals, grew fond of the family of sheep. Only one ram, one sheep, and a little lamb, all the named after her and her family. The lamb, especially, was incredibly playful and affectionate with him, and would always try to stay around him, poking his cheeks with her wet nose, jumping on his lap, running around his legs and many more, which, for some reason, amused the man greatly.

He had so much to learn from this lone woman - In fact, so much more than many of the scholars, teachers, physicians and eunuchs in the Palace could offer him - And so, he didn’t think of his hunting accident as a misfortune, but as as grace from fate.

These two weeks in this place were truly all he ever dreamt of, and more, should he not have been in pain from his wounds, but by now, he was fully recovered, and as a thank you, he properly taught her how to use a bow and arrow, to protect herself and her sheep family from any potential predators, and more, he helped her build a better shelter for them.

However, like all beautiful dreams, one must wake up, and thus, he was forced to return to the Palace, with the promise of visiting again, and also, to help her with anything she needed, no matter the cost.

Yin Zhi cursed how dull Palace life was, and truly, he felt more all here, constantly surrounded by thousands of people, than away n the woods, with Y/N, so he did what he always did to escape reality - Succumb himself into studying and reading, and clearly, staying as far away from people as possible.

Days passed, then weeks, months, and his mind kept flying off to that great, peaceful time when he was all alone, just with her, some animals, away into the forest, and he could read at leisure without being interrupted by these annoying pests.

He almost wasn’t sure how much time passed, until he received a letter from his trusted Eunuch, from someone calling themselves “The Sheepless Sheep Girl” and worry started harbouring in his heart, as he began reading her words.

As stated, some thieves came by while she was away, picking berries from the forest, and killed her sheep, destroyed the crops and stole everything she had, and now she’s helpless, scared and has no clue what to do.

Darkness and anger flooded him for the first time in ages, realising that, to save her, he needed to get her into the Palace, maybe saying she was his new Head Maiden... What a difficult situation they both found themselves into.

Well, why should he care what anyone else thinks, anyway? He’s not going to be an Emperor, so he doesn’t need to be surrounded by concubines, consorts and whatever other useless women or different statuses and ranks that they did nothing to earn, so why shouldn’t she just be given the title of Imperial Physician?...HIS Personal, Imperial Physician?

Sure, only men have the privilege of having this title given, but she’s talented, well-versed and knowledgeable, so there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be HIS Physician, right? She already saved him once, anyway. It’s not like the Emperor could deny or complain about it, considering he never asked for anything, and used his own power and knowledge to achieve everything he wanted.

She won’t even have to leave his Palace, if she doesn’t want to. She is a timid little doe who has no idea of Palace mannerisms, or how cruel everyone in this forsaken place is, and truly, the last thing he wants is to break her soul and taint her bright innocence and purity with the evil hanging around this polluted air.

Nonetheless, she needed to be taken care of, and so she will be, under his wing, without anyone interfering.

As soon as he got back to her place, Yin Zhi noticed how the house was in a terrible state, and she...Her face...It was obvious that she was exhausted. She was barely able to keep herself standing, she was weak, and her face was pink from the crying... This deteriorated state of her made his own heart ache, and that’s when he realised that he wanted nothing more than to protect her and her precious smile. He wanted her happy, by his side. It didn’t matter if she loved him or not, he just wanted her to shine brightly again, just as before.

He had his Eunuch find the best maid for her to attend her every need, and he found some petite girl called Shi Lian, with a soft voice, but very friendly, and with that, at least, he was content.

“Thank you...You did more than I asked you to...How can I ever repay you, Your Grace?” Y/N bowed her head down, speaking in a broken voice, almost as if feeling herself unworthy to be looked at by someone like him. “First of all, never call me that again. It’s only my name, for you, understood? Secondly, look at me, just like you used to. I won’t allow anything bad to come upon you ever again, I promise you. You saved me once...Let me save you now, Y/N.” he extended his hand for her to hold, as a way of asking if she trusts him. “...If it’s not asking for too much...Please take care of me, Yin Zhi. I trust you.” she gingerly held his hand in both of hers, raising it to her face, placing a soft kiss as a thank you. He realised that, compared to all the women in the Palace, her hands weren’t as soft and delicate, but more on the rough said, from all the hard work she had to put into taking care of herself. That’s a truly reliable woman, he thought, as he vowed to make sure she’s pampered at all times. “Anything for you.” his voice came barely above a whisper as he kissed her forehead, hoping she wouldn’t hear his heart’s confession...And yet, the soft blush on her face proved otherwise.

With each day passing, he could see her skin glowing, her eyes sparkling with life whenever she’d lay down at the base of the willow next to the pond as she would read one of the books he had in his library, her smile, dazzling as before, whenever some stray cat would get in his Palace garden and she would play with it, feed it, and somehow end up adopting it...Them...For there were many cats now in his garden, but it’s not like he could complain. He wasn’t the one doing the cleaning in his Palace, and he was content enough with seeing her happy.

She would sometimes play the flute while he was reading outside, or would pick up flowers from the field and make flower crowns for her and Shi Lian...And yet, on one occasion, she put one on his head while he was too absorbed in his reading to notice.

She wasn’t afraid to ask him for help to understand things she didn’t know from books he had that she wasn’t familiar with, and somehow, he never felt irritated by her - In fact, he actually felt his heart warm whenever he had to explain things to her - And the same went the other way around, when it came to science.

Not to mention how thrilled she was when she found out she was allowed to be a physician once again, just like long ago, and even more, she was bold enough to throw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug, that shocked him beyond belief.

And so, one day, when he came home, he brought a little gift for her... A little lamb that he named after her, to remind her of her little sheep family from before.

It made Y/N laugh with happy tears in her eyes, as she started playing around and cuddling the little lamb, even going as far as to let the baby lamb sleep in her own bed with her, and truly, Yin Zhi didn’t think it could get any better.

His life was finally beginning to shift in the right direction, the one he’s always dreamt of...Especially after one night, she lead him up the hill to watch the beautiful moon and the fireflies, holding hands as they lay on the soft grass and observing the stars, pointing out constellations, telling little legends, myths and stories about random things. He couldn’t help but admire her beauty highlighted by the silver light of Mother Moon, and how she looked like a dryad in that flowy, light green dress, and the fact that she looked ethereal without having to wear make up truly made it obvious how she was above them all without even trying.

For the first time in his life he felt completely enamoured, his heart was captured by this unique woman and he couldn’t help but put his hands on her delicate cheeks and kiss her pink lips that resembled the petals of the softest, most beautiful rose. He was never interested in love or women, he preferred to enrich his boundaries and knowledge, but this one...This one was truly something else. She was special, and he was making him feel special without even trying.

There was no doubt about it - She was truly the one.

And he couldn’t be happier.

It felt like he was living in a fairy tale, the Prince and the Princess, having their happily ever after.

But like any fairy tale, there must always be something bad happening to the Princess.

He wasn’t expecting anything like that to happen - He was sure she barely left his Palace and nobody held any grudge against her. It’s not like she was trying to get up the ranks, or get the Emperor’s favour, she was just a simple girl enjoying the simple life he was offering her.

As he got back home, pissed off for having had to meet up with a neighbouring Princess for the 10th time this week, or, rather said, her father alone, for some reason - Princess that the Empress wanted him to marry, he got in the house, expecting to be greeted by his brilliant lover and her little lamb, or her adopted cats and dogs...But he wasn’t. Instead, he was greeted by a trail of blood that led out in the garden, and to his horror, the girl he held so dear to his heart was sprawled on the ground, he arm extended towards the pond water...

He ran to her, held her in his arms, checking for a pulse, that was faint, but at least there, so yelling for his Eunuch to call for the Imperial Physician, he was able to pronounce that she was poisoned, based on the tea served in the Palace’s tea house, and now, the question came - Who poisoned her?

Of course, the main suspect was her Handmaid, poor Shi Lian, but something in his gut told him that this girl was innocent. Perhaps he wanted to trust her innocence, for it resembled that of Y/N, or maybe he just wanted to trust Y/N’s own trust in her.

Every day and every night, he would be restless, unable to sleep, so he would hold her hand, caressing it, kissing it, kissing her forehead, wiping away the sweat from her face, making sure she’s comfortable, despite the state of agony her unconscious self is in.

“Ricin...” Yin Zhi heard a soft, barely audible voice, struggling to mumble coherently. “Ricin?” he asked again, louder and clear, hoping he didn’t mishear or hallucinate. “Nails...Tea...” she continued, as tears kept streaming down her face, as she was finally able to open her eyes, her breath ragged, as she was fighting with her own body to keep herself awake and coherent. “Ricin...Nails...Tea...So the culprit put Ricin poison in your tea...With their nails? Does that mean it was Ricin powder hidden in their nails, so when they went to help prepare the tea, they mixed it in your cup, correct?” he asked, hoping for an affirmative answer, which is confirmed with a slow nod. “Who was it, darling? Do you remember? A name, a gender, some distinguishing appearance traits?” he pressed again, feeling adrenaline surge through his veins. “Princess...Jealous...Yin Zhi...” she started coughing blood again, clinging on his arm to keep herself grounded, as he helped her drink a glass of water. “A jealous Princess...I know just who you are talking to. Don’t worry, darling, I will solve this and make sure she pays for her sins. Nobody dares harm my beloved dove and gets away with this.” it was obvious he was angry, and rightfully so, and yet, she held onto his arm, not wanting him to leave. “Don’t go...Please...” she whispered, looking up at him with tired, fawn eyes, that melted his rage away. “I will be here until you fall asleep, my dear. I promise.” he kissed her softly, and stroked her hair until she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

He had to deal with this bitch Princess, but he couldn’t just rat her out without being petty and have his revenge. He had to get his physician to prove she had ricin powder in her nails. He could only guess it must have been in her pockets, because a sachet would have been too obvious, so with more help from his darling Y/N, he found out she was wearing a yellow and pink dress with only one pocket on the right, so with the help of his spies, he stole that dress, and his physician found the powder right there.

He won, once again.

And now, it was time for the grand finale, before this stupid Princess would leave. He was going to marry Y/N even if it was the last thing he’d ever do in his life, no matter how angry and disapproving his father would be, or how much the Empress would be against it, since the Princess is from her own family.

So, as soon as Y/N was back in full health again, and discussed things with her, so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or surprised at what was going to happen, and so, he took her with him in front of the Emperor and the Empress, along with the Princess and her father, to present his case.

“The 3rd Prince summoned us here for a reason, correct? It is not often that you choose to be surrounded by so many people.” the Empress pointed out with a pleased expression, thinking she knew what was going on. “Your Highness, the Empress chose Princess Ruong Xian to be my bride, for she is of noble birth...Her own bloodline. I do not doubt that she is a capable woman with many attributes...One of this attributes being poisoning and deceiving a harmless, innocent woman, because of her burning jealousy. I do not think someone like her should be the wife of the Emperor’s son.” his voice was as cold and harsh as usual, despite his politeness, which created chaos among everyone. “Poison?! Me?! How DARE you accuse me of something so vile? I’m a woman, I do not study plants and poisons, that’s the work of a physician! And what do I have to be jealous of? This ugly, no name who’s nothing more than a hand maid? She has no way of competing with me!” the Princess’ passive voice twisted into a hideous glare, pointing accusatory at the sheep girl who was awkwardly standing right behind him, fidgeting with her fingers and looking down as to not attract too much attention to herself...More than she already did, that is. “My son, that is a grave accusation you are telling us. Knowing you, however, I do believe you have some kind of proof to prove it. I am listening.” the Emperor spoke calmly, knowing very well to trust his intelligent son who never crosses boundaries, breaks rules or does things for the sake of it. “Physician Li, bring forth the dress. Father, this woman I brought home, Y/N, was poisoned recently, and it was proved that the poison was in the tea. Ricin powder. Barely detectable, unless you are incredibly knowledgeable and used to working with plants and medicine, like Y/N, who was brought up in a Physician home, and continued the tradition. The only way Ricin powder could have been put in her tea was through powder brought on her nails, most likely brought in a pocket, for a pouch would be too obvious.” Yin Zhi explained the theory, which made both the Princess and her father yell at him for the disrespect brought. “You have no proof, 3rd Prince! How dare you accuse my daughter of something so evil? You are tarnishing not only our name, but the Empress’ as well!” her father scowled at him, and he could only give him a cocky smirk. “Your Highness, this dress is the one the Princess wore on the day of the poisoning. If we get it inside out, we can still see some powder inside, that on further examining, proved to be ricin powder, which completely proves the theory the Prince explained.” the physician spoke out, showing everyone the proof, and suddenly, the Palace of Mental Cultivation became quiet as a graveyard. “To think that the Empress’ own blood would dare do such criminal acts in my own palace! This woman, Y/N, has been nothing but helpful for the kingdom and our Imperial Physicians, and you dared attempt to kill her? That simply cannot go unpunished! Guards! Take the Princess and her Father to the Hard Labour Camp and give them 50 canes!” the Emperor rose from his throne, his voice loud and angry, not even blinking from the bloodcurling pitched shrieks of the Princess that were imploring the Prince to save her, nor of her father’s. “Yin Zhi! My darling, please, save me! Please, my beloved! You deserve someone pretty! Someone of high rank! Not some filthy shepard girl! Yin Zhi! My Prince! Please, have mercy! Pleaseeee!” she kept shrieking as she was dragged away, only for the Prince to not even spare her another chance. “As sharp and intuitive as always, my son. I’m proud of you and your choices. I am sure you would make for a great Emperor someday...And yet, I know that is not your wish, nor ambition, unfortunately.” the old man’s voice became more fatherly and nostalgic as he looked at his son. “Father, I thank you for your praises, but I am undeserving. I will be forever grateful for you accepting my decisions, and I hope today you will stand by it once again, for I want to marry Y/N. I know she’s of no royal blood, but since I won’t be an Emperor, I believe she would be the best person for this Kingdom. She is kind, incredibly smart, studies all the time, is well-versed in multiple subjects, including science, healing, poetry and music, she is altruistic and helpful to all people, and, as you said, she has been an incredible asset for the Physicians, and was the one to realise it was ricin powder in her tea, even in her delusional fever-induced state. I only ask for your blessings, father, so please, take everything into consideration when you give your answer.” the Prince spoke up in a bold and firm voice, which made the girl standing next to him blush furiously, as she wasn’t used to so many compliments, as Yin Zhi was one to show his affections indirectly, most of the time, not through words, but with actions. “I see...I can see you are smitten with this girl, and rightfully so. I believe she truly is the perfect choice for you, but with her status, she cannot marry a prince.” the Emperor began, making his son frown, only for the man to continue speaking right away. “That is why, for the marriage to take place, I shall give Y/N the title of Lady Shuyu, the title given to Wise and Virtuous women of the Palace, and I will officially give her the post of the Chief Imperial Physician, specifically your personal Physician, my son. Is that to your liking?” the Emperor’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he saw both his son and the girl next to him looking at him with shock in their eyes. “Thank you so much for allowing our love to continue, Your Highness. You are most merciful and benevolent.” the girl immediately knelt, obviously bewildered at what just happened. “Thank you, Father. You have our eternal gratitude.” he couldn’t speak much from the shock, as he also knelt as a thank you. “You have my blessings, my children. You deserve to be happy.” he smiled kindly, seeing as the left the Palace, holding hands.

Out of the Palace, the girl jumped in his arms, as he held her tightly, kissing the top of her head, finally feeling content and at peace with what was going on. They could finally live together, without anyone daring to utter a word against her, or try to sabotage her. Their life together in partial solitude could finally be a dream come true, as they could have a little house somewhere in the woods, back there where she used to live, if they ever want to escape this royal chaos they had to live in, and even better, they could live with all the pets they wanted, go out together in the dark, watch the fireflies, go for a swim in the lake, read together, practice archery together, all while facing no scrutiny or complaint.

They could finally live the dream life their heart yearned for all this time.

#legend of the phoenix #legend of the phoenix imagine #legend of the phoenix headcanons #legend of the phoenix x reader #yin zhi #yin zhi x reader #yin zhi imagine #3rd prince #yin zhen #crown prince #emperor #empress #china #qing dinasty #imperial china

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jasonbehrs · 3 years

Text

i wanna read every word, chapter 3 + epilogue

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never met?” “Uh, do you mean like we’ve-been-doing-long-distance-slash-online-dating or like I’ve-been-crushing-on-the-cute-barista-at-the-library-cafe?” “Ummm, more like I’ve-read-their-poems-and-sure-they’re-very-talented-but-their-handwriting-alone-makes-me-smile.” “… That’s oddly specific.”

fandom: kpop, super junior characters: eunhyuk, ryeowook; guest appearances by the rest of sj-m and yesung ship: eunwook genre: romantic comedy themes: alternate endings, strangers to lovers, handwriting, identity reveal setting: college chapter: 3+4/4 word count: 5.8k

read it below or on ffnet, aff, wattpad

~~~

He and Ryeowook haven't hung out alone before, but he's sure this won't be awkward. Their only real link may have just been Yesung, but Hyukjae likes to think he successfully ingrained himself into that entire friend group in time. He tells himself that he and Ryeowook would have had a solo hangout at some point. Ryeowook's crush situation just expedited it.

They had agreed to meet at the quad but didn't specify anything beyond that, so Hyukjae chooses a bench with high visibility so that Ryeowook could find him easily. He crosses his legs and balances a laptop over one knee and a notebook over the other, figuring he could get some work in while waiting.

Not long after, the other plops himself right next to him and pulls out his own work without even saying hi.

Hyukjae keeps his face down as he smiles to himself. So Ryeowook's feeling just as apprehensive about this as he is.

Something about that realisation makes him brave enough to break the ice. "Ah, my favourite person under 5'2". How do you do?" he snarks without pausing his typing.

In response, Ryeowook uses a single finger to tip Hyukjae's notebook onto the ground without remorse.

"Okay, I deserved that," Hyukjae admits with a chuckle as he bends to pick the notebook off the ground and put it away. "So… did you bring one of the love notes?" he asks once it's apparent they didn't really have anything else yet to talk about aside from that.

"Of course!" Ryeowook rummages through his bag and pulls out what Hyukjae can only presume is the poem scrapbook he's heard the others talk about.

"Um, is there a problem?" Hyukjae asks as he eyes how Ryeowook holds the book to his chest with both hands, making no move to hand it over.

After a long moment, Ryeowook looks at him with hard eyes and a blush on his cheek. "You have to promise me you'll be careful with it. Like, if you want to look at one more closely, then tell me, and I'll take it out for you. Actually, you'll have to clean your hands first, too; I'm worried about oils. I'm pretty sure I have wet cloths somewhere in this bag…"

Hyukjae has heard the others call the scrapbook "a little extra." He privately agrees, but seeing the way Ryeowook is so protective over the thing makes him think perhaps Ryeowook himself is, in fact, a lot of extra.

He wisely leaves those thoughts unvoiced and instead motions for Ryeowook to hurry up. The other hesitantly hands over the book, and Hyukjae makes a big show of settling it calmly on his lap.

It would have been funnier if Ryeowook hadn't legitimately sighed with relief at his action.

Hyukjae lets it go; and with more interest than he expected from himself, he opens to the first page.

"Where did you get these?!" he yelps before he could help it.

"What? Why are you yelling? What!?"

Hyukjae can only distantly hear the other, however, as he is far more preoccupied with the absolute whiplash of recognising his own handwriting in the scrapbook. Page after page is filled with his rejected songwriting assignments, now forever immortalised thanks to Ryeowook's tender care.

Ryeowook flicks him in the forehead, and he struggles to collect himself. "Um, I mean. Um. Wow! This looks like an impressive collection," he stutters out awkwardly. "And, uh, actually! I don't think you ever told me the whole story?" he blabbers, knowing full well he actually has heard the whole story but needing to redirect Ryeowook's attention towards anything other than him right now.

So he sits there and lets Ryeowook gush over Poem Person, identifying that he is slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge that said person is actually him.

Sassy, doting, health-nut Ryeowook is wistfully waxing poetic over him, over his words, over his handwriting (a concept so baffling he actually has to stifle a chuckle in real life lest he hint to Ryeowook he is not actually paying attention).

He nods absentmindedly and offers encouraging smiles at what he hopes at the right places, but his mind is more concerned with figuring out: What the fuck is he gonna do?

~I think I must be broken somewhere. Since when did I start not welcoming even myself?~

The answer, apparently, is string Ryeowook along.

Ryeowook may have initially been hesitant about getting Hyukjae's help; but now that he has it, he has bolstered his efforts to track down and meet Poem Person. Hyukjae is astounded at his forward and creative ideas, stuff like signing up to audit the class one day or even straight up coveringthe chair in chalk so that he could easily spot the person walking around campus.

"Honestly, I need a sidekick, someone to help me pull these things off," Ryeowook explains one day while they're brainstorming over lunch.

Well, Ryeowook's brainstorming.

"I'm also kinda hoping you'll be close enough to the student to act like a wingman when we finally do meet. First impressions are everything, you know."

Hyukjae, for his part, is busy trying to maintain his poker face.

He didn't come clean to Ryeowook in the quad that day because he didn't want the awkwardness. Hyukjae was not mentally ready to hear that his brand new friend had been harbouring a crush on and had been engaging in borderline-stalker behaviour over little ol' him, and he suspects Ryeowook wouldn't have taken the news very well in the moment either.

Now though, he's just trying to maintain the status quo.

It's no secret that Ryeowook had built up an idea of what Poem Person is like in his head. What's the harm in letting him have a little crush on a figment of his imagination?

So yes, he continues to plot with Ryeowook, he continues to bother Donghae by tossing scrap assignments at him in class, he continues the whole ruse.

The harm, as Hyukjae is quick to discover, is that he grossly miscalculated the effect the lie would have on him.

It starts with a text.

Are we still on for tomorrow at 2?

yep. the student union still good?

Yep, see ya there

"Who are you texting?" Siwon asks as he plops beside Hyukjae on their apartment couch, his attention mostly trained on his own phone.

"Huh? Oh, just Ryeowook. I told you about him; I'm helping him meet this guy he has a crush on."

Siwon raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his phone. "Oh? You were smiling at that phone like someone agreed to go on a date with you."

Hyukjae stiffens. "I was not."

That makes Siwon look up. Hyukjae valiantly meets his gaze, but he breaks eye contact just a moment later.

"... Right."

Curiously, fear follows shortly after.

Hyukjae doesn't even notice it at first. It was too subtle compared to the overwhelming confidence he gets from being around Ryeowook. With the way the other talks about him, to him, without knowing it's him… it's a heady feeling. (Case in point: The day before a modern dance midterm, Ryeowook texted him a photo of a recent Hyukjae original along with a copious amount of heart-eye emojis, and Hyukjae felt so energised that his professor pulled him to the side after his performance and concernedly asked him point-blank if he had started taking steroids.)

Ryeowook doesn't just see the best in him. He guesses at Hyukjae's flaws and turns them into superpowers. He paints an image of Hyukjae in colours that he wasn't even aware existed. It's an instant ego boost.

It isn't long, however, until Hyukjae stops hearing musings and starts hearing expectations. Ryeowook believes in a vibrant, exciting, romantic persona; someone smart and adventurous who can enable him to be as silly as he has the potential to be.

Since when was Hyukjae any of those things?

He isn't afraid of Ryeowook's wrath when the jig is eventually up, no. Wrath he could handle; wrath he deserves. Instead, he is afraid of the disappointment, the unimpressed "Oh." that Ryeowook couldn't help but let slip once he processes the truth. Hyukjae wouldn't be able to handle seeing the light in Ryeowook's eyes—the light that used to be reserved for him even if the other didn't know it—dim.

And finally comes realisation.

"Don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Hyukjae asks him one evening. They got to-go meals from the dining hall and moved as far west as they could without leaving the campus entirely. The sun is due to set any minute now, and they wanted the best seats possible.

"What do you mean?" Ryeowook asks with furrowed brows still trained on the skyline.

"You've spent so much time thinking about this guy, analysing his mood and habits and whatever. You'll meet him for the first time, but it won't really be the first time for you, you know? You'll know all this stuff about him already whereas you're a complete stranger to him. That's gotta be, like, a power imbalance or something, right? That's not fair to either of you. You've mentioned before that you don't necessarily want to date Poem Person, but that's not even a good basis for being friends with him."

Ryeowook glances at him from the corner of his eye and smirks. "If Mi were here, he'd have a lot to say right now."

Hyukjae chuckles as he lets the other change the subject. "He'd actually have only one thing to say, and I don't want to hear it."

Ryeowook hums but doesn't say anything else, attention still mostly on the sun's slow descent to the horizon. Hyukjae would have liked an answer, but he gets it. He just sprung all that on the other without any preamble, and Ryeowook probably needs time to think. Hyukjae isn't entirely sure what he wanted to hear anyway.

Ryeowook doesn't speak again until the sky finally begins to bleed red, a threatening promise for the end of the day. "You have a point, of course. I'll constantly be comparing the person he is to the person I made him out to be, even when I don't mean to, but… Something tells me that won't matter as much in the long run." He chuckles, low and with disbelief. "I couldn't tell you why; but I feel like even if I told him the whole story, even if the first things I ever say to him are the questionable antics I've engaged in just to meet him, he wouldn't run away."

And he would be right, of course. Look at where Hyukjae is now.

"You're thinking too highly of him," Hyukjae says. He means it as a way to distract from the mortifying ordeal of being known, but it comes out bitter without his permission.

Ryeowook smirks. "Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Ooooh, are you lonely?" he teases. "Don't worry, I pay back my debts. Just tell me as soon as someone catches your attention. I can't promise forever, but I can promise a first date, for sure." He winks.

There is a long moment between when the sky finally turns black and when the streetlights flicker to life, one conveniently spotlighting the pair with its glow. It mocks Hyukjae with its inevitability.

~This night blesses the day we meet. The moon is open in the sky, and the stars smile.~

"Hyung, I'm bored."

"Okay."

"Entertain me."

"In a minute, I'm reading something for class."

"What's it about?"

"The cultural impact of Black youth on the interfaces of music and body expression in early 1970s New York City."

He appreciates Ryeowook's offer to swing by and keep him company while he studies in one of the many lounges strewn about academic campus, but he'd appreciate it a lot more if Ryeowook would actually let him study.

Ryeowook blinks. "I understood all of those words individually."

Hyukjae drags a hand down his tired face. "I'm basically in the same boat, so please? I'll do whatever you wanna do as long as I can make it to the third page of this article today. I really need to participate in tomorrow's seminar or else I'll have to take a make-up quiz."

"Fiiine," Ryeowook whines, but he thankfully starts scrolling through his phone in silence.

After a few minutes of quality reading, Hyukjae hears Ryeowook rummaging around, so he languidly raises his eyes to see how the other is choosing to preoccupy himself.

He shoots up out of his seat, barely taking the time to set his laptop down properly in his haste. "What are you doing with that!"

Ryeowook looks up from where he is crouched besides Hyukjae's open bookbag, holding a notebook in his hand. "Oh, did you need this?"

"For what? No. What?" Hyukjae spouts in rapid fire, thrown-off by how Ryeowook responded to his question with one of his own.

Ryeowook's eyes light up. "Excellent! I thought you needed this for your homework," he comments as he lets himself fall backwards onto his butt. "I was just gonna read your handwriting while I waited. I can't believe I never thought to check yours out before. I've basically gone through everyone else's in the friend group."

Hyukjae could kick himself for letting such a good excuse slip right out of his hands, but the room seems to have gone in slow motion as Ryeowook proceeds to open up the notebook to a random page. Like a man possessed, Hyukjae dives straight for Ryeowook's lap, successfully knocking the notebook out of the other's grasp in the process.

…

"Hi," he says over his shoulder when the silence has gone on for too long. Ryeowook raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Hyukjae chuckles awkwardly while he manoeuvers himself out of Ryeowook's lap with as much grace as a baby deer on ice. He quickly snatches up his notebook while Ryeowook is still prone and simply observing his movements, and then he doesn't know what to do next.

Ryeowook takes over from here, standing up calmly and striding right into Hyukjae's personal space. Despite having several centimetres on the other, Hyukjae cannot help but feel small under the other's assessing gaze. "There is clearly something in that notebook you don't want me to see."

Hyukjae eyes the room, trying to calculate his odds. "Yes," he hesitantly confirms.

Ryeowook narrows his eyes. "Is it about me?" he asks with an edge to his voice.

"No." The half-truth comes out much quicker, thankfully.

Ryeowook purses his lips then nods. He takes two steps back, and Hyukjae almost does something silly like reach for his waist to keep him nearby. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you finish your homework without intruding on your privacy. In return, you'll buy me boba and bring me a notebook I can read the next time we meet."

Hyukjae sighs with relief and readily agrees to those terms.

A few days later, he confidently hands over Siwon's old notebook from their shared Psych 101 class and a medium taro boba.

Ryeowook opens up to the first page then laughs in Hyukjae's face, high and bright. "This is your notebook?" he manages to ask through his cackles. "No wonder you didn't want me seeing it. You must have known I was going to make fun of you."

"Why? Why?" Hyukjae demands, affronted. It may not have been his handwriting, but still.

"It's like your handwriting is Jekyll, and you're Hyde. I look at this, and I don't see you at all."

Hyukjae looks over Ryeowook's shoulder to see what he's working with, and he can't help but agree. Siwon's handwriting is neat, consistent, and in perfect lines straight across the page. Rich kids and their calligraphy classes, dammit.

Nevertheless, he tries to salvage the situation. "Come on, you know I'm a neat person."

Ryeowook snorts, but he nods his head in agreement. "That may be true; but if someone had to write a list of things about you, 'neat' wouldn't even make it in the top 50."

"Can you think of 50 things about me?" Hyukjae teases as he slinks back around to Ryeowook's front, effortlessly plucking the notebook out of the other's hands in the process.

Ryeowook crosses his newly freed arms in front of his chest and smirks. "Yep. 1 would be that you're a brat, and 50 would be that your feet smell."

"Yah! My shoes don't breathe!" Hyukjae whines. "I want 50 nice things," he continues above Ryeowook's snickers.

"Oof, that'll be tough. How about just 5, and you get to pick what movie we watch next?" Ryeowook haggles.

Hyukjae rolls his eyes but agrees. He'll take what he can get.

"1: You're not half-bad at impressions. 2: You like strawberry and chocolate, but only as separate flavours," Ryeowook starts, counting off on his fingers as he goes. "3: You're great at charades. 4: Everybody likes you because 5: you know exactly what to be, do, or say when the situation calls for it. You're not just flexible as a dancer, but as a person, and it's the best thing about you."

Hyukjae doesn't fight the toothy grin that stretches wide across his face. "You think so?"

Ryeowook nods very seriously, but there is an undeniable glimmer in his eyes. "Absolutely. With a lack of other suitable candidates, it's your best quality by default."

~I don't know why you keep staying with me. I lack so much for you, and I'm sorry about that.~

It would be easier to stop being in love with Ryeowook if the other didn't actually seem to value his company and insights.

There are days when they've hung out and talked about anything and everything but the song lyrics, when Ryeowook will bake Hyukjae strawberry scones and give him meaningful feedback on his choreography. They're both witty but in different ways, so they're always cracking up; and in those moments, he can't help but imagine he's already told the truth, that Ryeowook has already accepted him, and that this is what they could look like together.

But then he looks into Ryeowook's eyes and the warmth he sees there burns at a different temperature than the warmth he feels, and Hyukjae is painfully reminded that is not the case.

He can only take so much.

Despite knowing in his gut that it's the absolute wrong call to make, Hyukjae retreats. Stuck between yearning for Ryeowook yet fearing facing him and being frustrated with himself for equivocating on what to do, it's easier to just not do anything at all. He cancels more, begs off group hangouts, throws himself into his dance rehearsals. He even attempts going to the gym once just to keep his mind occupied and off of the problem.

Honestly, life could get better.

As he presses 'ignore' on the nth call he's received from Ryeowook that week, he offhandedly notices that blowing the other off feels way worse than lying in the first place. Let's see him spin that into a positive.

Hyukjae's doing great on his passive, brooding agenda until a few weeks later when he accidentally looks up from where he was perusing just as Henry enters the music library. By virtue of the youngest's classical performance degree, the two of them share the most colleagues and classes of any pair in the group.

He is honestly lucky it took so long.

He offers a stiff nod in acknowledgement and hopes that that's that, but Henry wanders over to his aisle with too much nonchalance to have not been intentional.

He doesn't leave Hyukjae in suspense for too long. "Ryeowook-hyung won't stop baking, you know."

"Huh?" Hyukjae asks dumbly, thrown completely off-guard from the unexpected comment.

"Seriously, he won't stop. You could get drunk off the stench of vanilla extract permanently in the air of the apartment."

Hyukjae realises with regret that he's never had a good opportunity to hang with the group at Ryeowook and Mi's apartment. "Oh. That's good, I guess."

"It would be better if we were allowed to eat any of it," Henry says, flicking through the records in front of him. Hyukjae almost believes it's a fake, idle action, but sometimes Henry nods and writes something down on his phone after inspecting an album.

"Yeah, it would be," Hyukjae offers at last for lack of anything better to say. Despite the stilted and tense atmosphere, he feels compelled to continue the conversation.

Henry nods again, but Hyukjae could tell that's for him. "I think he's saving it for someone that he expects to come by, but who else would come aside from any of us, you know?"

It is unclear if Henry includes Hyukjae in that 'us,' but Hyukjae doesn't dwell on it. Something much more pressing is on his mind. "What kind of stuff is he baking?" he asks, very afraid of the answer.

"He's been experimenting. Caramel chip cookies, cinnamon-lemon cupcakes, strawberry scones… But you know him. It's all low-fat, protein-enhanced flour shit; pretty sure he'd get kicked out of the nutrition program if it weren't," Henry says with a chuckle, but Hyukjae can't bring himself to laugh along.

Those all sound perfectly delicious, and something worse than vanity tells him that that's on purpose. The thought fills Hyukjae with so much more guilt that tears press against his eyes.

"Um, t-thanks, but I gotta—I gotta go," he stutters out through unmoving lips. What it is he's thanking Henry for, he has no clue; but he's far more preoccupied with exiting stage left from this scene as soon as humanly possible. "It was good to see you again," he adds as a reflex, already two steps further down but still facing Henry.

Henry raises his head from the jewel cases just as Hyukjae reaches the end of the aisle, and the slight smile he gives is so loaded with patronisation, pity, and perception that Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs.

~Longing is a beautiful pain I thought I could endure.~

After a whole class of not paying attention to a single minute—instead, wondering if maybe he should just get out with it, all of it: the deception, his feelings—Hyukjae leaves to find Ryeowook waiting right outside the door for him to exit.

"You don't normally get up this early," he comments in surprise, walking up to the other before he could help himself.

Ryeowook shrugs. "Well, I needed to talk to you, and I realised I didn't know enough about you. I don't know where you live, where you normally like to hang out; all I knew for sure is that you had class in this room at this time, so… Anyway, can we talk?"

Hyukjae's immediate instinct is to come up with an excuse, any excuse—he spent a whole class thinking about what he would do next time he faced Ryeowook but still hadn't settled on an answer—but Ryeowook reads his hesitation for what it is and makes the decision for him.

"Actually, we're going to talk whether you want to or not! Starting with: why have you been avoiding the group, avoiding me!" he yells. Hyukjae winces from Ryeowook's harsh words and high tone but can't bring himself to say or do anything more to stop the tirade. He's in no position to ask for leniency.

"I turned it over and over in my head, and I realised: I didn't even do anything! Are you mad at me because I didn't take enough time to get to know you? Are you tired of helping me? Why are you—you should have used your words and said something—whatever it was that was bothering you!—instead of just ignoring me like that!"

Hyukjae only notices that Ryeowook's volume and impassioned speech is attracting attention from other students and faculty in the hallway because he's avoiding the other's gaze, but he knows Ryeowook would be embarrassed about it later.

He hurriedly ushers them back inside Bomnal 235 despite Ryeowook's protests. The other angrily shrugs off Hyukjae's touch as soon as possible and stomps to the rear right quadrant of the room to sit, crossing his arms and legs in one fluid movement and pouting cutely.

Well, Hyukjae would think it was cute if he noticed it. His attention is instead captured by Ryeowook's choice of seating. If Ryeowook practiced the same seats code of conduct, then…

Without really thinking about it, he moves up and slides into his own seat, exactly behind Ryeowook's. He can tell the other is surprised he doesn't sit next to him, but Hyukjae focuses instead on the half-baked plan that formed in the time it took to ascend the stairs.

Ryeowook is petulantly turned towards the front, sure that he's said his piece already and waiting for Hyukjae to talk. Instead, he feels something light and crunchy hit the back of his head. "Yah!" he yelps, turning to glare at the offender, who is steadfastly scrawling something down on his notebook.

"You're doing it again. You're ignoring me instead of talking to me. If you're just gonna sit there and do homework, I'm gonna lea—YAH!" He's cut off by another bunched up piece of paper hurtling right for him, which he angrily swats away in mid-air. "What are you doing!?" he demands, but Hyukjae just throws another wad of paper at his desk instead, his aim perfectly allowing the paper to land right next to where Ryeowook's notebook would have been if he were in class... almost like he's done it dozens of times before.

Ryeowook frowns and picks up the most recent paper and smooths it open before gasping.

He would recognise this handwriting anywhere.

Unfolding my only crumpled wish You and I are in it

He quickly lifts his eyes back to Hyukjae, who refuses to meet his gaze even as he throws another wad of paper at Ryeowook's desk. Ryeowook picks up the first one that bounced off the back of his head and scrambles to find the second one which he had swatted away.

In this very short moment I'm just following my feelings

With trembling fingers, he finally opens the first one, which reads, "Didn't you say you'd recognise my handwriting anywhere?"

He looked up with cloudy eyes to see his desk slowly being overrun with scraps of paper and Hyukjae continuing to write on. Ryeowook slowly walks up to the paper pile and begins opening them one by one.

I'm sorry it turned out this way.

On each paper is a single sentence,

Honestly, I thought you were a lot of extra.

a confession, sometimes, or a timeline.

The sun set, that streetlight flicked on, and I knew it for sure.

As he reads the pages in no certain order,

You thought so highly of me, I was flattered and burdened all at once.

he literally pieces together Hyukjae's story,

What else was I supposed to do except throw them on his desk and annoy him?

from when he first realised the truth

It was so embarrassing to see all my rejected song lyrics immortalised forever by your hands.

to why he had avoided the other.

I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't want you to hurt me either.

As he continues reading, Ryeowook couldn't help but feel there is something missing, something that ties the whole narrative together. Alas, even after he finishes all the pieces on his desk, he couldn't figure out what.

Far past the point of anger and instead seeking to simply, finally understand, he looks to Hyukjae, who finally meets his gaze.

Without Hyukjae's constant scratching at his notebook paper, the classroom is loudly silent. He underhand tosses one final wad of paper to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook reads the intention in the action and catches it easily. He opens it up to read a final set of lyrics.

I still can't say the words Those words that make my voice run dry I love you more than anyone else

Ryeowook couldn't breathe. "You love me?" he asks with trembling lips, voice no louder than a whisper but reaching Hyukjae all the same.

Hyukjae slouches into his seat, hands outstretched and anxiously tapping his pen on the table. He keeps his head turned to the side when he nods. "I couldn't help it."

"And you lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Were you ever gonna tell me?'"

Hyukjae snaps into an upright position. "I wanted to!" He looks Ryeowook in the eye, trying to express as much sincerity as possible. "By god, I wanted to. But the way you talked about Poem Person… That's the guy you deserve. He wouldn't have led you on for weeks because he's a coward," he spits out.

"But he did."

"But he shouldn't have."

"But he's telling me now."

"But he wasted your time!"

"Why are you talking about yourself like that; he's you!"

"You didn't know that until five minutes ago!"

Ryeowook takes a moment, and Hyukjae forces himself to match the lowered state of tension that results. "It's not so hard to believe, now that I know the truth," the other says after a beat.

Hyukjae doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. Ryeowook rolls his eyes. "You've heard me go on and on about your impulsiveness and emotional depth and whatever." He gestures to the pile of papers in front of him. "That's what this all seems like to me."

"I can't possibly have been what you expected, what you were hoping for," Hyukjae argues, trying to force the situation into a boiling point. He just laid himself bare in front of the person he's in love with, and none of his worst-case scenarios have come to fruition yet.

"I was hoping to meet the person with the lazy H's and the perpetually rose-coloured glasses, that's it," Ryeowook maintains calmly, but Hyukjae doesn't feel calm at all. He just keeps tapping, and Ryeowook sighs. "What I expected doesn't even matter. I knew there was a real person behind those notes, someone who came with all the complexities being a person entails. All my daydreams were just that; and even if every single one of them were wrong, and for some reason I couldn't handle that disappointment, that's on me. How I reacted to finally meeting you was not your responsibility."

"Are you?"

"What?"

Here it comes. "Are you disappointed?"

"Hyukjae."

The soft tone of Ryeowook's voice makes his heart clench, and Hyukjae shuts his eyes in self-preservation.

His anxiously tapping hand is stopped later by an equally soft touch, and he looks up in shock.

He hesitates to recognise the warmth he finds in Ryeowook's kind, earnest eyes. It's different from what he's seen before, but he doesn't want to categorise it any further than that. Has he imagined this temperature so much that it doesn't look out of place?

Ryeowook can see the moment Hyukjae focuses on him again, and he brings his other hand to squeeze both of Hyukjae's in turn.

"How could I be?" he asks, and he means it.

~I'll hold your two hands and confess, I pinky promise. Thank you for coming to me.~

EPILOGUE

Mi hums to himself as he turns the key to the lock of his apartment front door, arms laden with grocery bags…

… Which he allows to drop to the floor in shock as soon as he catches sight of the couple making out on the couch.

Ryeowook and Hyukjae break apart at the noise, heavily panting and cheeks flushed. Neither of them stop staring at him, and he cannot stop staring back.

Mi has so many thoughts running through his head, like Since when has that been a thing? and I can never sit on that couch again, but the one that comes out is, "What about Poem Person?"

If possible, Ryeowook and Hyukjae's cheeks flush even further, and Mi's incredulity slowly makes way for glee as he expects their response.

The caught pair turn to each other, communicating hurriedly through eye contact and muscle twitches alone before facing Mi again.

"Um, well, long story short…" Ryeowook begins.

"It was me," Hyukjae finishes.

Mi can't help it as he begins crying real, happy tears.

The gender has finally been confirmed.

~This happiness I noticed can be our starting point.~

~~~

A/N (6.14.2021): Wow, hasn't this been a ride! Eternal thanks everyone for reading and commenting; thanks Dorcas for your support; and thanks Amy for being my sanity check. If you hadn't already noticed, SJ lyrics were abound in the fic, whether in section breaks, narration, or dialogue! Were you able to recognise all of the songs? :D

Also, now that you've read the whole story, I'd love to know: Did you notice that neither Eunhyuk nor Ryeowook ever feel guilt for their brands of dishonesty? As written, do the chapters progress in such a way that it is sensible—maybe even natural—despite the lack of it?

If you did notice, did that impact your reading experience at all? If you didn't, does knowing now change anything? And ultimately, in a story whose crux is deception, is guilt necessary for redemption?

Share your thoughts in a review, comment, PM, DM, whatever!

#super junior #super junior fanfiction #ryeowook #eunwook #eunhyuk #jaso*#iwrew

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years

Text

float among the stars and fly to Mars and back

The Universe was infinite and limitless for some, and Feyre wanted to unfold all of its secrets. And if there were live beings outside of the Earth’s atmosphere, that would be even better than taking the journey into the unknown alone.

OR The Men In Black AU no one asked for

Feysand Masterlist --- Ao3

Feyre Archeron had, since she had been a little girl, always believed that there must’ve been more to the Universe than their little Solar System.

Granted that there was nothing ‘little’ about a star and the nine planets (Viva la Pluto!) and the many other cosmic rocks that rotated around it, quite the opposite if you looked at it from the perspective of a tiny 7 years old, yet for Feyre, after her school had taken them to the city’s planetarium for a field trip, their Solar System had become undoubtedly small compared to the greatness of the unknown sky above. She had got home that day with stars in her eyes, literally because they had been given stickers of stars and planets, and she and her friends thought it was a good idea to stick them on their faces and eyelids, and had begun to constantly look up.

And she had not stopped since.

Many of her classmates laughed at her interest for the sky, thinking she only thought aliens were real because of movies and the TV, but the truth was that Feyre didn’t even want to acknowledge life outside of the Earth unless she had all the cold facts and hard proves laid out in front of her. To her, the Universe was a big adventure waiting to be explored, full of different atmospheres and gravities and temperatures, and it was simply wonderful. And yes, it was statistically impossible for such a vastity to have only one liveable planet, considering how well creatures could adapt to different environments, but that was not the point.

Which was why at 25 years of age, fresh off the most prestigious university in Prythian with a bachelor’s in aerospace engineering and a PhD in astrophysics, she had sent her curriculum all over the continent, to the best space programs and some. She had graduated valedictorian of her class, scored the highest marks with her thesis and just genuinely worked her ass off to maintain the full scholarship that had landed her at the Day Court University. She was gonna get what she deserved!

Or at least she thought. Weeks passed and she got no answer at all. She was not expecting to be submerged by requests but, by the Mother, at least some acknowledgement!

“No news is good news” wasn’t part of her vocabulary and she was growing impatient by the hour.

In the meantime, she still kept her job at a local library in her university town, not particularly wanting to go back home to her sisters who had never shown her any support in her academic career. Besides, it was not like they would provide for her anyway: she had learnt since a young age to take care of herself, knowing that if she didn’t nobody else would.

It was on the third week of no reply, that someone walked in the shop during her shift. A tall man in an impeccable black suit strutted in like a model on the runway. As soon as he opened the door, the bell rang, signalling a customer and letting Feyre slip on her Retail Smile, which she had practised for years to make it impeccable.

Coincidentally, it was also the same condescending smile she reserved to people who thought they knew more than her in her own field before she crushed them with stone cold facts without breaking a sweat. “Oh, you believe that astrology and astrophysics are the same thing? Sit your ass down, Tamlin, you’re in for a lecture,” had been one of her best moments, followed by a quick “Nothing’s in retrograde, Ianthe, you’re just a plain basic bitch.”

The customer was her dictionary definition of ‘hot’: elegant, tall, with deep russet brown skin and dark unruly curls that framed his forehead nicely. The stranger also knew how to wear a suit, which was a rarer and rarer phenomenon, that didn’t hurt a bit.

It was such a shame that he was clearly a douche, given that he wore dark sunglasses inside her little bookshop after the sun had already set down.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked politely, watching as the customer scanned through the files of books mindlessly. He lazily reached up her counter with an entitled smile that almost made her punch him the face. “Could you point me to the sci-fi section, Darling?”

The fact that he looked like a thirty-something made the term somehow less creepy, or perhaps it was the fact that he was attractive. But Feyre could not, for the life of her, let that slide down. “I’m not your Darling” she said in her most saccharine voice while throwing daggers at the customer. She was completely out of fucks to give, stressed and anxious, half an hour away from closing time and with her manager on a vacation far away.

Besides, she doubted Alis would give her hell for mouthing an entitled but attractive customer who was patronizing her. If anything, she’d probably push Feyre to flirt with said attractive customer. Cauldron knew that woman wanted her to have a relationship more than anything!

“I apologize for my poor choice of words, I am truly sorry. Didn’t mean to sound rude nor impolite.”

Feyre was quickly taken aback. He truly did sound apologetic and not condescending at all. But he also could just be a great actor. She crossed her arms over her chest and pointedly looked at him, signalling that she was still not convinced by his behaviour.

She would usually be not this bold with customers, but there was something about the stranger that seemed to put her at ease and to let her nature pass through her nurture.

He scratched his neck, probably uncomfortable with the energy Feyre was radiating, and finally took off his sunglasses, revealing the most gorgeous pair of violet eyes she had ever seen.

Immediately, Feyre went from thinking he was a douchebag to understanding that his pretty eyes didn’t work. Which was probably why he didn’t take off the sunglasses at night.

But then why in the Hell would he take them under the store light and not outside, where it was already dark?

She was on the fence, too many contrasting details that sent her rational side derailing, looking for answers that she knew she wasn’t gonna get. Unless she played her cards right.

“Apology accepted” she claimed, truly smiling as she saw the hot stranger visibly relax.

“If his eyes are purple, that means that he’s basically blind, so where are his prescription glasses?” she wondered, eyeing him up and down as she would with any specimen to analyse for a lab. She was a scientist, after all, and Cauldron Damn Her, she needed answers to each and every puzzle that came in front of her.

“I am looking for the sci-fi section. Would it be possible for you to show it to me?” His voice was sensual and low, a rich baritone that seemed to be able to get to her very bones, if she wasn’t careful enough.

“Would you rather me show you our audible or kindle selection for the genre?” she quietly asked, trying to be as tactful as possible. She was only making assumptions with the tiniest bit of information by her side, after all, so she had to be careful not to make an ass out of herself.

“No, what for?”

There went it. The ease with the customer had said it made it completely clear that she was utterly mistaken. She quickly tallied her notions of genetics, trying to understand how such a colour could be created without a damaging mutation.

Realizing she still hadn’t answered and was actively zooming out, staring into the space between the stranger’s brows without really realizing it, Feyre shook her head, saying a quick “Never mind,” before leaning over the counter to point to her left.

Counterintuitively, that had not been the greatest of ideas. There she was, already on a rollercoaster with a rather pretty stranger in an empty store, leaning towards him without thought or restraint. “It’s down that row, you can’t miss it,” she quickly said, moving fast into her original position to avoid any more embarrassment, “There’s a sticker of a Martian next to the tag.”

The customer raised one of his brows in a RDJ-esque way, sparking even more interest in Feyre’s stomach. “How do you know what a Martian looks like?”

“I’ve been scarred by the Tim Burton movie, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to forget them anytime soon!”

He nodded along, “Ah, yes. Apparently there had been a revolt after that film was released due to its controversial portrayal of the Martian Race, by making them look like a green oversized Arquillians. Such a bad political move, if you ask me, considering we’re right in their direct laser trajectory!” The stranger then laughed, a crystalline sound that resonated throughout the store as he began to walk away towards the direction Feyre had indicated.

She had been so entrapped by his laugh that it took a minute to register his words. He had already disappeared between the rows and all she could do was dumbly stare at the spot he had been as her eyes widened in shock.

“No fucking way in Hell!” her mind screamt as she stumbled to find a different solution to the situation at hand. He was clearly pranking her, saying words that didn’t really make sense. He had asked for the sci-fi section, after all! So he must’ve been a nerd, albeit a really hot one, that was just referencing some sort of obscure specie from an equally obscure piece of media.

The only problem was that she was a nerd that knew all of the obscure sci-fi knowledge. She had spent most of her life looking up at the stars and wishing to know more about them, and what better way to start than by watching and reading everything that had to do with her favourite topic. She was used to be on forums, to talk with people that had her same interest and to explore all her crazy theories.

And never once in her entire career as a proud nerd had she heard the term ‘Arquillians’. Vulcans and Krill and every single type of alien that made the Star Wars universe, sure. ‘Arquillians’, never once by mistake in the deepest bottom of reddit.

Feyre was about to debate with herself whether or not she should’ve run to the stranger to demand explanations, when he appeared in front of her, holding a copy of ‘The War of the Worlds’ by H. G. Wells, one of the most iconic books ever written and one of her personal favourites.

“He’s definitely messing with me” she reasoned as she grabbed the book and scanned it, ready to place it in a bag, when she noticed an envelope laying on her counter. It was a non-descriptive, black envelope with some sort of a six electron configuration in minimalistic drawn atomic orbitals. The image was wrong, depicting the electrons in a specific spot on the ellipse rather than in a general area in which they were thought to be empirically.

She raised her head up, looking expectantly into the stranger’s eyes and telling him as such. One of her hands also crept under the counter, towards the baseball bat Alis kept down there just in case.

“Wow. Took you less to realize it than most people!” he cheerfully said, his violet eyes shining with some unknown feeling behind them.

“Realize what?”

“That those are not electrons.”

She snorted at that, unable to keep her sarcasm in. “And what should they be? Wasps?” she asked, amused by their exchange as she grabbed his credit card to pay for the book. It was pitch black too, apparently like everything that revolved around the pretty stranger who was going to get his head open like a melon if he kept up with his antics.

“Why don’t you tell me, Miss Degree in Astrophysics.”

Feyre froze with her hand mid-air as she was giving him back his card. Her expression shifted in cold distance as she sobered up. They were getting on dangerous territory

She was far from powerless: she had a weapon at hand and several years of martial arts by her side, but she doubted she could take down someone the side of her customer in her skinny jeans and Avatar: The Last Airbender shirt. But there was also the counter separating them, which seemed protective enough for Feyre to answer his question.

“First of all, it’s only theorized and not proven, that planets could share an orbit around a star, but I fail to believe that three pairs would form this symbol without colliding against each other and disrupting the harmony of the system. Second, who the fuck told you that?”

“Well, you did, when you sent your exquisite curriculum around” he replied smoothly, without missing a beat.

That was the last straw of weirdness she was willing to witness. “This is getting very creepy and I’m gonna ask you to leave” she said coldly, grabbing the bat with both hands and leaning it over her shoulder, ready to attack if the necessity arose.

The stranger blinked twice and then took a step back, raising his hands in a placative motion. “Pardon me, I still have not grasped human social skills to the full extent, despite my long stay.”

“You are human” she retorted back, unable to keep her voice from shaking. This was absurd, ridiculous, impossible. This was everything she had ever hoped for since she was a child. This was a walking nightmare.

The smile he gave her didn’t look human, nor the way his violet eyes reflected the light, seeming to sparkle with amusement. His lips opened as his tongue wetted them, revealing sharp canines. Feyre had never seen a scene more captivating than when the stranger moved a strand of curly hair behind his ear with deliberate slowness, showing off the pointed tip of his ear. “Correction, I look humanlike.”

“You’re messing with me” she rationalized, refusing to believe that it was possible. Anyone could buy fake vampire teeth and elf ears at any Halloween store or online. But they usually didn’t look this real. Perhaps it was make-up: she had seen so many videos on YouTube and Instagram of artists literally transforming in different things with make-up.

He just shrugged, unaware of Feyre’s rocked existence. She both wanted to believe him and not. She didn’t know what she truly wanted.

“Why would I? I was just sent here by my agency to give you personally the invitation for a job interview, which I think you’ll find fascinating.”

She was speechless. Couldn’t even begin to think about where to start speaking.

This had to be the cruellest prank someone had ever pulled on her.

The stranger cleared his throat and moved once closer to the counter, resuming his initial position. Since Feyre didn’t seem to be hitting him anytime soon, he took the liberty to lean on the counter with his hands splayed out. He had long and lean fingers, like the ones of someone who played an instrument, a piano or a violin, and Feyre ignored the twist her stomach did at the sight.

If he wasn’t messing with her and if he was in actuality a fucking alien, would that be even allowed? Moral? Ethical?

“Look, I know you have an analytical mind, so I’ll be quick,” he began, his smooth voice washing over Feyre in an equally calming and disruptive way, “In case you have wondered why you still haven’t gotten a single reply for your applications, it’s because something big in Velaris is calling out to you. And my agency believes in dibs.”

“What’s there for me in Velaris?”

He smirked at her, a cocky gesture that made her want to strangle him quickly. “Don’t you wanna find out?”

Damn him, damn his perfect face, damn everything. Feyre had many strengths: she was patient, passionate, artistic, kind. But her downfall would always be her curiosity, her desperate want to know.

“I don’t particularly want to get murdered, so no” she tried to play it cool, but inside she was burning alive. Every muscle was taut, every nerve active. She hoped he couldn’t see through her bluff, she prayed the Mother he didn’t think her to be a pathetic little girl.

The Alien, it was impossible in her mind to call him that even if he had confessed it in the most subtle way possible, regarded her with shiny eyes and a grin that promised trouble.

Feyre had always been terrible at staying away from trouble.

“Pity. We could’ve used someone with your talents. If you change your mind…” he motioned to the black envelope, that still laid on the counter untouched. Too many Mission Impossible movies told her that the message was most likely to destroy itself after it opened.

Slipping his sunglasses back on, the alien turned around to leave and suddenly Feyre realized she didn’t want him too. She had too many questions.

“Wait!” she called as he had his hands on the handle. He slowly turned around and looked at her expectantly. Or at least she thought he was: there was no way of seeing his violet eyes behind the black lenses. Suddenly, all of the questions that had filled her mind a moment prior escaped her grasp. Except one.

“Let’s pretend I believe you. What are you?”

The smile he gave her was genuine, blinding and warm. “I am an Illyrian, but I doubt you know of us.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he added. “I’m Rhys, by the way.” She couldn’t understand why he looked sheepish out of the blue, it was almost as if he was a teenager revealing a secret crush.

“Feyre.”

“Well, in that case. I hope to see you soon, Feyre Darling.” And with that, he left her utterly alone, with a black envelope and stars in her eyes.

Part Two: The Letter

Feyre had waited until she had gotten home to even think about the black envelope, least of all to open it where someone could immediately walk in with their prying eyes.

Not that she would have had any, after all she was just about to close shop for the weekend and the only people she was in speaking terms with were Alis, who would never call her at such a late hour, and the stray tabby cat that lived near her building and for whom she always left some milk and some food whenever she went out to work. She had playfully began to call him Lucien, after a former college friend she had fallen out with that shared the same ginger hair with the cat, and constantly damned her landlord for his ‘no pets allowed’ policy, but alas, she couldn’t do more.

She had always appreciated her privacy, but lately it had become very close to loneliness, with her being too engrossed with her work to maintain a social group of friends. Not like she missed the assholes she used to hand out with in college anyway. They could all rot in their expensive clothes and expensive cars and expensive degrees, cause Daddy Dearest is a powerful donor and alumni.

Yet it wouldn’t have been so bad to have someone to hang out with when her mind became too loud.

Not too bad, if the alien, “Rhys” she reminded herself, was to be believed. The Night Court was adjacent to Day, but she had left nothing there worth justifying the trip back in case she did move to Velaris.

Velaris. The city of starlight, they called it. Feyre had always wanted to visit, but never could afford it with her tight budget and her focused plan to graduate valedictorian. In the end, she only got that, her impeccable career, which was truly the only thing she cared about. Loneliness was feeble compared to her fear of failure in what she believed was her destiny. It is a funny thing, destiny, it smacks you in the face when you least expect it, and smack Feyre in the face in the form of a very attractive stranger with possibly the best news ever it did.

She had almost expected him to appear out of the blue as she walked back home. Thankfully, he didn’t, but that didn’t mean she slowed her pace before being inside her complex doors and that didn’t mean she didn’t have her keys at hand throughout the entire journey.

It almost felt like she couldn’t breathe properly before she got inside, door locked twice behind her as she leaned against it to help her mind to stop spinning.

Too many things had happened in a too short time for her to cope properly. She needed answers, but she equally needed a strong drink.

It wasn’t until she had managed to calm down her beating heart, that Feyre sat down at her desk and placed the black envelope on her closed laptop.

“This better not be a sick joke” she thought as she ran a paper cutter through the edges. She had wasted too much time on this already for it to be fake or, worst, disappointing.

The paper inside was, predictably, black. She could start to see a theme, linking everything that had happened to her that evening.

The silver writing was subtle and not to bright, perfect to not cause her an headache reflecting the light from her reading lamp.

Feyre almost expected to see alien signs and letters, to not be able to understand what was written as some sort of challenge to test her knowledge. Luckily for her and her dyslexia, it was in English. Still a struggle, but very doable.

“Doctor Archeron,

We have been sent a copy of your resumé from one of our affiliates. We apologise if this letter comes out as brusque due to the circumstances of your possible recruitment.

We are more than pleased to inform you that we have envisioned your request. Our Agency specializes in your field and your accomplishments are remarkable. We are particularly interested in your research in the attrite of different materials against the atmosphere, which you created a masterful thesis around, we were mostly drawn by your detailed research with the Martian atmosphere.

We know that was not part of your resumé, but we have read it and it is very insightful.

We would appreciate if you were willing to come to Velaris for an Interview with our Head of the Research Department. We think you would be interested in a position and we are open to discuss a fortuitous partnership.

In case the way you received this letter was not direct enough, Our Agency values privacy and secrecy above all, and therefore we would request for you to not discuss of this with anyone.

Attached you will find your scheduled meeting time with the address, plus a train ticket to reach Velaris and the booking of an already paid room.

We are truly hoping to be able to work with you.

Our Best Regards,

MIB”

Feyre had to read the letter three times, for the meaning to stick in her head.

Any thought of it being a joke flew out of the window. No one in their right mind would ever read what her supervisor had claimed to be a ‘monstrosity of twenty pages without pictures about materials and Star Trek’ simply for a joke. No matter how well thought the joke could be, the Mars piece was the penultimate point of her research, before the conclusion and not even featured in the syllabus.

Her mind became crowded with a thousand different thoughts. Her emotions were all over the place, running around and doing flips and diving into her subconscious.

She leaned back on her chair, letter momentarily forgotten on her desk as she covered her eyes with her hands and just focused on her breath.

In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

She could rationalize this, just like she did everything else in her life. She had jumped to conclusions with her emotions only once in the past 10 years since she had started college, following her loneliness and the pressure to date the guy that screamt red flags for many reasons, yet she had ignored them all because he was gentle at first, filthy rich and nice looking.

Never again, she swore to the mirror after she had managed to end the toxic relationship that had developed.

Feyre did what any rational person would in her situation: grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote down a list of pros and cons.

PROS:

Job opportunity in my field

ALIENS?

Secret Organization

Area 51?!

Already estranged from family

Secrets!

Velaris!

Best food

The Rainbow

Seaside

Best Library in Prythian

Snow in the winter

Fresh Start

CONS:

Moving

Finding a place

Totally new city

Know literally no one

Have to quit job with Alis

Already told her I was waiting for replies

She has a replacement ready

Could still be a prank

Too complicated to be a prank

Definitely an opportunity

Am I really thinking about saying no?

It took her longer to come up with cons. Besides, her gut told her to do it, and so far it had never lead her astray.

Worst case scenario: she comes back and waits around for another reply to her resumé.

Best case scenario: the job of the literal dreams, that can possibly exceed expectations, in her favourite city in the entire world.

Besides, she already had a paid train ticket to and from Velaris and an already paid room in what, if the website was to be believed and it was, was a 5 stars hotel in the creative centre of the city.

Before she could doubt herself even further, she grabbed her phone and shoot a quick text to Alis. The older woman didn’t believe in phone calls past 8 pm, considering her nephews would be already asleep by then, or at least she hoped they would.

Her thumb ran over the keyboard as she frantically wrote, in the most cryptical wording known to womankind, that she would have a job interview in the Winter Court on Monday and that she needed the day off. It didn’t matter that she was going to the Night Court and that her meeting was scheduled for Sunday at 11 am, she figured that, if she had to be secretive, better start as soon as possible!

Feyre didn’t move from her position with her phone pressed tightly in her hands until, ten minutes later, Alis replied with a thumbs up emoji, followed by ‘you’re wasted at retail’.”

Feeling lighter than she had in months, she rushed into her room to begin to pack for the upcoming weekend. The train would leave the next afternoon and would get her back Monday after lunchtime. She had to prepare, in case she could go out on Sunday night for a ‘I JUST GOT THE JOB OF MY DREAMS!’ celebration and shenanigans.

Perhaps with a very cute and nice alien with violet eyes, she thought as butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the idea.

Part Three: The Agent

Her old pencil skirt clashed with the aesthetic of the entire building.

At first she had thought that the whole black attire Rhys was wearing when they met was only due to personal preference, and that the black letter was used to be more secretive or something along those lines. Yet when she hopped, literally hopped on the pavement out of excitement, off the taxi she had taken from the hotel, she immediately realized her error.

To say that they were peculiarly attached to their aesthetic was an understatement: floors, walls, dresses, desks. Everything stuck to the black and white palette, making Feyre extremely aware that she had underdressed as she stuck out like a sore thumb.

In her defence, that was her lucky outfit: hair tight in a professional bun, glasses because she couldn’t be bothered with contacts on important mornings, white blouse and beige skirt she had bought for her graduation in high school and that she had worn to every job interview since then.

Of course, she had brought a full professional black outfit from home, but she had decided that morning not to take a chance. So far, that combo had never failed her, and it wasn’t going to betray her now, by the looks of it.

Upon arriving to Velaris the night before, she had spent the entire time daydreaming about what would happen that morning. Countless of scenarios had created and resolved themselves in her mind. But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw as soon as she walked into the address the letter had given her.

It was a perfectly non-descriptive building, something akin a factory that had been converted in offices or lofts, inconspicuous amongst the other nearly identical buildings. Perfect if you didn’t want to be found. But while the outside looked like it hadn’t been renovated in over a century, inside it was completely different.

It was modern, sharp and very Tardis like. And it apparently had several levels underground, so it was ‘bigger in the inside’!

She couldn’t keep her awe in, because not even a few steps in and a short and scary looking woman came approaching her, her silver eyes blazing. “Every human has the same impression” she said in lieu of a greeting, and Feyre could only stand there and nod dumbly.

The woman, if she was human at all, reached to shake her hand, “My name is Amren, I am the chief of MiB. I assume you are not familiar with our Agency, correct?” her voice was cold and dangerous and Feyre had no doubt in believing that she might not be from Earth at all, if her ancient like eyes didn’t give her away.

“No, ma’am, I’m not” she replied curtly, unsure of what to say. No, she had not heard of their Agency. Stars, that was the first time someone had referred to it with its proper name! But she had also dug as deep as she could, trying to find information about all that crazy situation, conscious that her every move must’ve been tracked.

Amren gave her an appraising nod, as if she knew every single detail of Feyre’s life, “As you should” she said calmly, before beginning to walk away, motioning for Feyre to follow her through a maze of bodies and beings and desks. She was kind enough to point a race there, a post here, but refused to get too much into detail. “You’ll find someone else to ask” had been her curt reply before resuming her random naming game.

She only stopped leading her around when they reached a black shiny door that was open, revealing on the inside the only colour in the entire building, or at least that was what Feyre thought. Inside, there was one of the most gorgeous females Feyre had ever seen, long golden hair in contrast with her tan skin, a red dress that hugged her like a second skin, and a smile that could blind and that could counter as a weapon, if needed. When she saw them approach, she immediately jumped to her feet with agility and elegance. “Hello! I am Mor!” she chirped with enthusiasm, avoiding Feyre’s outstretched hand and going straight for a hug. Amren loudly scoffed, “Be professional, Morrigan,” she reprimanded the blonde, who simply winked at her before returning to her side of the desk, motioning for Feyre to seat.

She awkwardly looked at Amren, trying to convey her disorientation through her eyes alone. There wasn’t a name tag at the door, not any indication of what was going to happen. For all Feyre knew, they could be about to wipe her memory clean and dispatch of her in the garbage.

“I hope I will see you around, Dr Archeron” was her only reply, before leaving her alone with Morrigan, who still hadn’t diminished her smile.

“If they made me come all the way up here just to kill me, I’ll be pissed.”

“Dr Archeron, please have a seat, we have quite a lot to discuss.” Morrigan then proceeded open an enormous folder and began to pull out all sort of wavers, undoubtedly that Feyre would need to sign to give her life away. Mother Help Her, what had she gotten herself into?

“So,” she began, her energy still up and running as she maintained a kind and comforting expression, “Feyre, can I call you Feyre? Am I pronouncing it correctly?”

She could only nod quickly, before she was once more submerged by the blonde’s voice.

“Marvellous! I’m sure you want to know what in the Cauldron is happening, right? I mean, you get a letter that basically tells you to uproot your entire family and that you’ll have a job, but it’s described as vaguely as heck and you get here blindly and possibly terrified. Trust me, I know the feeling, it sucks. But it does get away pretty quickly. Now, you’ve got questions, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Please, call me Mor.” Her eyes were kind, a deep brown that harmonized perfectly with the rest of her, and Feyre didn’t have it in her heart to disagree. After all, if things went well, as they seemed to be going, they’d be on first name basis. Stars, maybe they’d even be friends!

“Mor. Very well,” she gave her a quick smile, trying to keep her nerves down, “Will you be the head of my department?” “Cauldron no!” she laughed, so crystalline and contagious that Feyre almost followed suit, or at least she would have, if her heart wasn’t practically beating out of her chest. “That’s Azriel, you’ll meet him soon. I’m just HR and well, I’ll walk you through this major life change. Is it okay?” “Oh, yes, of course. Truth to be told, I don’t even know what I’m here for.”

How pathetic it was of her, to go to a foreign Court without even knowing what she could be facing. But, no matter how much she thought about it, her brain couldn’t wrap around what a secret agency could want for little old her. Sure, she was brilliant and hardworking, but she was also young. And employers didn’t like young.

Mor gave her a sympathetic smile, slightly nodding her head as she moved some papers around, looking for something. “I know, I hate having to be so secretive whenever we recruit, it only leads to confusion. The number of people that refused to be interviewed just because they thought it was a prank it’s concerning.” “I did believe it to be a cruel joke in the beginning…” she trailed off, still not 100% positive that it wasn’t. “I’m so sorry about that. That’s the downside of being in a Secret Agency that deals with Aliens! But let’s get down to business!”

Feyre couldn’t resist: in the quietest voice possible, she filled the space Mor’s voice had left, uttering the most indiscernible ever “To defeat the Huns!”

She knew she had made a mistake when Mor stopped with a sheet of paper mid-air to look at her expectantly. ‘SHIT’ was her only thought as she stumbled to apologize in the least embarrassing way possible: “Sorry, I don’t know what came to me, it’s just a silly song from…” But Mor cut her off enthusiastically. “Mulan, yeah! One of my favourites. I’m pretty sure we’re on the way to become best friends, Feyre!”

Her smile was blinding, and for the first time since she had stepped foot out of the Velaris train station, Feyre felt herself relax. It had been quite a while since someone didn’t mock her for still knowing all the words to Disney Songs and it had been quite a while since someone seemed to truly want a friendship with her. She wasn’t used to this anymore.

Her throat constricted and all she could do was nod, suddenly filled to the brim with emotions. “I just have a couple of questions that you have to fill out for me, before we can move on to what you’ll do and, most importantly, how much’ll be. Spoiler alert, high secrecy means high cash!”

“That should be your slogan!” She accepted the pen that was given her, ready to start and finish this. Nerves wore out into excitement and she was about to combust. “I’ve been trying to have them change it for ages.”

She chuckled lightly, before giving her entire razor sharp focus to the piece of paper. She could already imagine the questions: was she able to do this mathematical equation? Could she resolve that chemistry problem? Did she know this and that Law Of Physics?

But nothing, truly nothing, could have prepared her for the little array in front of her.

For on the paper, there were written five questions, with adjacent a ‘YES’ or ‘NO’ to be crossed.

Feyre could just raise her puzzled eyes up at Mor, who gave her a shrug and went back to re-apply her blush and highlighter.

She expected to do calculations, to waste time. She didn’t expect to be done in less than three minutes.

‘Do you have living relatives?’ YES

‘Are you in contact with any of them?’ NO

‘Do you have a relationship or partnership?’ NO

‘Are you able to keep calm under pressure?’ YES

‘Are you able to swim?’ YES

“That’s it?” Feyre asked, unable to put together the pieces in front of her. To be honest, the thing that was bugging her the most was the last question. That was the most out of it.

Mor simply smiled at her, giggling a little, “Yeah, we wouldn’t have sent you that letter if we weren’t sure you could take it,” she happily said before taking the paper and scrutinizing with analytical eye. “You’d be surprised by the number of people who can’t swim” she stated, answering her unspoken question with a disbelieving look and a shake of her head.

“Excellent, by the way.”

“Thank you, it was a pretty hard test!” Feyre joked, momentarily terrified of having said the worst thing, before Mor followed her suit with her laugh.

“I know! But it’s mostly to check finally what we already knew.”

Feyre snorted at that, “Good to know I was being watched.” It wasn’t that big of a problem anyway: every single social media used their private information to get money, so of course a secret agency about freaking aliens would keep a possible employee in check! “If it’s any comfort, you won’t be from now on. It’ll be like you never existed or…” “Died?” “Yeah. Morbid, I know, but it’s the price of the job,” Mor claimed, sliding a folder with her name on it over the glass desk. “Not really a problem, I’ve got no one that would miss me too much,” she quickly said, opening it up and almost falling off her chair. The first page was a detailed list of what she would earn and it was a lot. Probably more than her entire tuition would have costed if she hadn’t managed to get a scholarship, and all of that for one year?

“You weren’t kidding about the slogan, uh?”

On the next few pages there was written down a non-disclosure contract, which was understandable, and the secrecy policy she would have to follow. Bye-bye Instagram! Not like she used it much anyway, there were too many pictures of marriages and babies for her liking, and she didn’t like already to share every minute of her private life over social media.

And, finally, on the last page was the thing she was most scared and excited of: the inscription told her that she would work on the research department, studying what she loved the most and finally getting all the answers she needed. She could be able to explore the stars from her desk and also in person, with trips to adjourn her curriculum and work! A tiny little clause on the bottom also read that she could be assigned intergalactic! field! work! alongside of an agent, if the situation arose.

She couldn’t help herself when tears started to swell her eyes and fell down her cheeks in two streaks, nor she cared if she was ruining her make up.

She had never been happier.

“What do you thing, Feyre?” Mor was suddenly nervous, as if doubting that her answer would be anything other than a big fat yes. Probably seeing her cry didn’t seem like a good sign and all Feyre could do was nod enthusiastically as she gladly accepted the box of tissues the blonde woman was handing her. She knew she must’ve looked awful and batshit crazy.

“Where do I sign?” she asked finally, after having managed to regain her composure, wiping the rundown mascara from her cheeks, trying not to smudge it all over her face.

What followed was a quick work on the paperwork, the proper signature and stamp and boom! “Welcome to MiB, Dr Archeron!” declared Mor, jumping to her feet to cross the desk and to bend down and hug.

Feyre held her just as tight, trying to keep all the emotions away. Later, after getting back to her hotel room, she’d have all the time in the world to cry as much as she wanted, but now there were more pressing matters. “Ready?” asked Mor, dragging her away from her office and into a maze of halls that Feyre didn’t even bother to try and memorize. She’d have all the time in the world to do so, after all.

Their first stop was on the wardrobe and armoury, where she got her measurements taken and was fitted in the most exquisite looking black suit she had ever seen in real life, the materials soft and luxurious under her fingers.

“This feels like a 007 movie,” she joked, marvelling at the figure she cut in the mirror, immediately finding Mor grinning at her.

“Our gadgets actually work,” Mor fired back, causing Feyre to go into a fit of giggles that had the blonde join almost immediately.

It was a wondrous feeling, being able to connect instantly with someone. She had rarely had meaningful friendships and relationships in her life, some of them were entirely faked from the other side and she was just used for someone else’s gain, but she hoped that what was beginning with Mor could fall into one of those categories.

Truth to be told, she didn’t think having any romantic relationship would be the best thing when just moving into a new city and a new job, but she was a sucker for Friends To Lovers trope and who knew? Maybe the future could be bright for her, and not only in her work life.

There was also the topic of a certain pair of violet eyes that had occupied her mind for the previous two days, but she was pretty sure that was a hopeless route: no one in their right mind could take a liking of her, especially when they looked like that.

She was so lost in her own mind, trying to scratch away the way Rhys’ smile had made her insides turn into gelatine, that she didn’t realize Mor had taken her in front of a slightly ajar black door. Without seeing the label on it, she could understand where she was by Mor’s little excited squeal as she pushed the door open with a flare.

If it was possible, Feyre’s eyes would turn into anime hearts and stars, in a typical Sailor Moon fashion. Inside, after a set of stairs, there were rows of desks, surrounded each by microscopes and spectrometers. Humans, or humanoids, and aliens alike wore black lab coats, contrasting with the white of the walls and the equipment, working alongside each other in harmony. There were several grand doors, religiously black, on the back of the room, which she assumed lead to the bigger equipment.

She had never seen anything more beautiful. At university their laboratory had been severely restricted and she would have to rely on other’s data, but here the possibilities seemed to be endless.

“Pretty, right?” asked Mor, a smile on her face. Pretty didn’t even begin to cover.

“For a specialist, pretty would be an understatement” a quiet voice chimed in, seemingly out of the shadows and making Feyre jump to her feet and hold to the rail for dear life. The voice belonged to a man wearing a white lab coat with black accents, politely extending his right hand at Feyre to shake it. “Dr Archeron, I am Agent A.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” came her trepid reply. She didn’t know why, but she immediately was washed over by the impression that this man, if he was human, was more dangerous than he might let on. Be it the fact that he looked like he blended in the shadows and belonged alongside of them or be the act that he had freaking wings? Holy Cauldron how had Feyre not realized that he had wings, proper angel-like feathery wings that grew from his skin and seemed to ruffle under her gaze and, Dear Mother, she was about to faint.

She knew her eyes must’ve reached a comical stance as she took them in, when Mor gently pushed her with her shoulder. “You can call him Azriel. After all, you’re the one with a PhD!” the blonde cheerily said, winking at her and bringing her back to the reality at hand.

Feyre gave him an apologetic look, trying to make amends for the staring, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He gave them a soft smile and nodded his head gravely alongside Mor’s words: “Unfortunately, that is true. I did not attend Earth university. In Illyria we have a different education” he explained, beginning to walk towards the door at his back and motioning for them to follow.

“You’re Illyrian?” Feyre asked, suddenly remembering her first alien encounter as her cheeks heated up. She wondered if she might be able to see him again, even only to thank him for bringing her the envelope. She knew that he must have been only following orders, but he didn’t have to stay and make sure she didn’t freak out too much.

She was met back by a puzzled stare from Azriel and a shrug from Mor, who momentarily looked at each other as to confirm that that was probably an information she wasn’t allowed to know yet. “And you are familiar with our specie because...?” began to ask Azriel, a suspicious tone in his voice that made Feyre froze from the inside. It wasn’t even her first day and she had already fucked up big time, that was a new record!

She was about to reply, to defend herself, when a deep voice came from the door, which opened from the inside and revealed two figures standing there: one had matching wings as Azriel’s and the other was someone she didn’t think she’d meet again so soon.

“Because I introduced her to our existence, dear brother” Rhys said, violet eyes sparkling as a wide smile appeared on his lips.

“Hello, Feyre Darling.”

She couldn’t fight the stupid smile that took up her face at his sight, nor she could control the way her cheeks flared up, the redness there for anyone to see.

The man that stood next to him eyed her up and down with a puzzled expression, his brown eyes twinkling with understanding as he, not so lightly and not so subtly, elbowed Rhys on the side, causing him to wince. “First of all: Hi, I’m Cassian,” he started, holding his hand out for Feyre to shake, “Second: You’ve met?” he asked, gaze running back and forth between them as his eyebrows shot up comically and emphatically.

If the ground decided to open up at that specific moment in space and time and swallow her whole down, Feyre would be okay with it. Extremely okay with it. Actually, she’d bring a shovel to sink down lower if necessary. “He brought me the envelope…” she whispered, trying to draw the least attention to herself and justifying the entire thing in the least embarrassing way possible. “Of course, cause mailing it would’ve been too mainstream, right, Agent R?” Azriel chuckled, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe casually, wings folding behind him.

Rhys fretted nonchalance with a wave of his hand and a bored expression: “I was going to be in the city anyway, I thought, why waste money on stamps?”

Out of all the things that had happened to Feyre in that weekend, that must’ve been the weirdest. “You were going to mail it? So much for secrecy!” she exclaimed in disbelief, eyes darting to Mor as if asking confirmation about it all and at the same time trying to understand if they were secretly pranking her.

“You’d be surprised about how many postal offices rely on aliens to work” came her curt reply, followed by a solemn nod from the three males.

She’d have all the time to understand if they were pulling her legs or not, and all the time for an eventual payback, she reasoned, dropping the subject without too much fuzz. “Alright,” she croaked, shrugging her shoulders and turning expectantly to Azriel, waiting for her superior to say something.

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, ushering both Rhys and Cassian away from what Feyre assumed was his office. “All of you, that’s enough! I have to finalize my work with Dr Archeron before we’re ready to properly start.”

“Not so fast, brother!” Cassian yelled, chest puffed out as he languidly strolled over to where Feyre stood, towering over her. She had to resist the urge to clutch to Mor’s arm for dear life.

“Do you know how to fight?” “Ten years of Karate when I was a child and 4 of Krav Maga between high school and college,” she replied without missing a beat, raising a brow in a silent question as she held his stare.

After a couple of heartbeats, Cassian’s face broke into a wide grin: “Impressive! I’ll hold you to that one of those days,” he said, leaning almost conspiratorially and blocking Azriel’s face from her view, who yelled in outrage a very shocked “Agent C!”. He was pointedly ignored by Cassian, or Agent C, ‘What’s up with that?’ she wondered as she looked up at him, who kept on talking.

“I’ve got only one more question: do you know anyone in the city?”

She didn’t know how to reply nor why it was suddenly their topic of discussion? Was this guy hitting on her in the most random, yet not the most uncalled, way ever? She should mention that long hair was a turn off, no matter how manly and in style the man-bun was supposed to be. “I can give you two replies,” she cockily stood her ground, crossing her arms at her chest and assuming a defensive stance, just in case she had to headbutt him in the chin, “no and technically I shouldn’t be supposed to so…”

He took one look at her before clasping his hand on her shoulder with raw force, giving her what seemed to be the most platonic expression of affection ever: “Okay, I officially like you! But you’ve just got a new job, you ought to celebrate!”

Feyre considered it. On one hand, she had brought an outfit specifically in the case she got the job, which she clearly had just gotten and had to work out only the minimal details. And partying alone in a city she didn’t know at all was not an option. On the other, she really didn’t know these people.

But one look into Mor’s direction and instantaneously she knew that she’d love to hang out with them all.

Her only reply was a quick yes in affirmation, but she was soon overpowered by Mor’s cheers. “YES! We can go out together! We’ll show you Velaris’ night life!” she cried out in happiness, hand up to high five Feyre as Cassian held her closer to his side and fist-bumped the air.

She was having quite a bit of trouble, not liking small spaces and Cassian’s side hug was definitely a tight fit. She wanted to remove herself from the position, to try and regain the control of her breathing that was starting, so very subtly, to accelerate alongside her discomfort.

These people seemed nice and wanted to include her, her rational brain knew that, but old wounds didn’t always manage to mend right and panic was rising. Feyre tried to speak, but her throat felt constricted, and her eyes darted around the two, hoping one of them would stand down a little.

Luckily for her, her knight in black armour arrived just in the nick of time before she erupted like a volcano. “Let her breathe! Mor, Cassian, back off from poor Feyre,” Rhys intervened, helping her untangle from Cassian’s limb and letting her have her space. He quickly let her regain her breathing as the pair moved to Azriel, their next prey. The man was shaking his head as they both raised valid arguments and Cassian ‘Triple Dared’ him not to be a killjoy.

That scene alone served to strengthen her resolve to hang out with them, only to be able to witness the pure and unadulterated chaos that would come out undoubtedly.

All of the sudden, it felt like she and Rhys were in a different plane, the others to engrossed in their planning of the night to pay them attention. “Thanks. But, yeah. I have no idea where to go and I suppose I deserve it” she joked, laughing lightly while cringing internally at her own awkwardness. She had always been able to flirt her way through any situation, be it with men or women or anything in between, yet with him she felt like an high school girl with a crush. Perhaps it was because he was a literal alien that looked like an ancient Greek god and had a smile that managed to lit up Feyre from the inside.

Smile he was now giving her freely and without restraints. She could feel the butterflies in her stomach, count each one of them.

“How are you finding out agency so far?” he asked, as a hint of colour appeared on his cheeks out of the blue. A blink and it was gone, so quickly that Feyre thought she might have imagined it.

She was about to reply that she hadn’t done much sight-seeing, self-doubting whether or not she should push herself to ask for a tour or if it was too forward too soon, when a loud voice interrupted her train of thought.

“Shut up!” Azriel bellowed from behind her, causing both hers and Rhys’ attention to turn to him expectantly. “All of you have more important things to do other than bother me and Dr Archeron. And no, Agent C, while we’re at work we use our titles so stop talking! We’ll tune in the details later, Agent M, but I assume you have other more pressing business to attend.”

“Actually…!” Cassian had begun to disagree, but Rhys had been quicker and had planted his hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

He quickly nodded to Azriel as he struggled to maintain his hold as Cassian put on a childish fight, that culminated with him licking Rhys’ hand like he was some sort of overgrown five year old on the school ground. Feyre couldn’t help the laugh that got out of her at Rhys’ affronted face.

“That’s enough!” he yelled, moving to shoo away both Cassian and Mor, who pulled Feyre in a tight hug before leaving and whispered in her ear ‘I’m so glad you’re part of us now!’. She could only respond back with a squeeze, her throat constricting with sudden emotion.

“Agent A, we’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Thank you, Agent R, I appreciate that!” came the exasperated reply from Azriel, who immediately disappeared inside his office, undoubtedly to avoid any more anarchy, motioning for Feyre to follow. She turned around to salute and wave goodbye at the improbable trio leaving, only to find Rhys standing in the doorway, looking at her.

He winked, causing Feyre’s cheeks to heat up, and bowed gracefully. “Welcome on board, Feyre Darling,” he said, before disappearing into the labyrinth of hallways and glass that made up the MiB headquarters.

Feyre pinched herself, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. One more step and she was done, she would finally have her dreams answered.

She’s have her answers, her opportunities, what she worked her entire life for. And if she could manage to have the life she had always wanted, with people that cared about her, that would be the icing on a perfect cake.

A part of her brain whispered that she didn’t deserve it, that she was an imposter and that everyone would realize it. But Feyre had had several years of experience in dealing with her own negativity, considering herself a pessimist as a coping mechanism because it was easier to expect the worse in every situation, and immediately shut that voice down, focusing her breathing to steady her beating heart.

Sending up a prayer to the Mother, she closed the door at her back and took a seat in front of Azriel, slipping on her glasses and putting her hands flat on the table.

“Shall we begin?”

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