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marvelmusing · 7 months

Text

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: After taking the capital, you and Aleksander move onto the next stage of your plan - locating Morozova’s workshop to find a cure as Aleksander’s condition worsens.

Warnings [18+]: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of breast play, Aleksander’s dirty talk, canon level violence and death.

A/N: it feels like this chapter has taken me forever to write but it’s finally done!! (without extensive proofreading since I’m too excited to actually post something again) I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s been a struggle to find time to write these days which sucks but hopefully I’m getting back into my flow now

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The Grand Palace is practically deserted when you and the rest of your Grisha advance upon the capital. In a matter of days, the occupants of the Sanctuary have settled into the Palace.

Seeing Aleksander in the royal study is a sight to behold. He looks just as worn and tired as he has for the last few weeks, his hair askew from his own hands, head lowered over some maps. But the polished furniture and luxurious upholstery suits him.

His dark eyes flicker up to watch you lean against the doorway as he registers your presence. A fond smile plays over your lips as you look at him, his gaze wandering over the silk nightdress you’re wearing. The fox preens inside your head and you nudge the creature away from your thoughts as you advance towards Aleksander.

“I thought you were coming to bed,” you accuse him lightly. He smiles softly, discarding his papers and leaning back in his chair.

“I am.”

You tilt your head at him.

“Are you?”

His smile widens, a bashfulness creeping into his features as he glances down - avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Aleksander,” you murmur gently, hooking a finger under his chin to guide his eyes up to meet yours. He hums quietly. “We’ve taken the capital.”

His eyes flutter closed as you press a kiss to the small scar on his forehead. A shiver runs over your skin as he settles his hands on your hips, your bodies being drawn together with a magnetism that has your heart fluttering with anticipation.

“The sun summoner is in the dungeons.” He breathes out a soft sigh as your lips lower to the scar on his cheek. “If the Lantsov Prince is still alive, our people will find him.” He helps you settle into his lap, your legs straddling his. “In a few days, we will find Morozova’s workshop and begin working on a cure for you.”

His hands begin to stroke down your sides as you kiss the scar at the corner of his mouth.

“There’s nothing else to do tonight. Come to bed, Sasha.”

Aleksander slides his hands down your hips, wandering over your thighs with a casual eagerness. He squeezes whatever bare skin he can find, fingers caressing your inner thighs in a manner that has you squirming. There’s a roughness to his tone as he whispers,

“You look beautiful.”

Warmth spreads over your cheeks as you glance down at the nightdress. Delicate lace adorns the neckline, lilac ribbons tied intricately at the bodice. Shyly, you smooth down the skirt, fingers playing with the hem that stops mid thigh.

“Genya made it for me.”

“The dress is exquisite,” he admits with a small nod. “But I was talking about you.”

“Aleksander,” you whisper as your nose grazes against his. “Take me to bed. Please.”

He leans in, kissing your lips with an intensity that makes your toes curl. Aleksander’s worsening condition has made you cautious, concerned about hurting him with his body becoming so fragile. As a result, when he reaches underneath the hem of your nightdress, he finds the fabric of your panties soaked with arousal.

A broken moan of relief escapes from the back of your throat as he slips his fingers under the gusset of your underwear. He makes a small sound of approval when he finds your cunt dripping with need. As he finally begins touching you, slow strokes of his fingertips against your entrance, you press your forehead against his, breathing shakily.

“I’ve been neglecting you, sweet girl,” he murmurs against your lips. You shake your head with a small gasp of his name. He circles your clit with his fingertip, the barest hint of movement despite the firm pressure he’s using and you whimper as the cloud of pleasure hazes over your thoughts.

Aleksander captures your lips with his once again. Without thinking, you begin to rock your hips against his fingers, moaning quietly when you feel the growing bulge beneath his trousers. Aleksander is moaning too, soft sighs and breathy whines he’s fighting to suppress.

“With the merzost… my control has worsened since the last time,” he admits. “I won’t last nearly as long.” He bites down on his lower lip, stifling a groan. Every word he speaks is stilted by his breathlessness. “I fear I might… spill my seed the moment I enter you.”

“I don’t mind,” you tell him. “Just, wait a moment. Wait until I’m close.” He increases the speed of his fingers as your walls tighten at the thought of him climaxing as soon as his cock begins to stretch you open. “Sasha, I’m so close.”

With fumbling fingers, you tug on the drawstring of his trousers, pushing the fabric away to free his cock. He hooks his hand under your thigh, giving you assistance as you sink down onto his hardened length. Feeling Aleksander push into you so intimately, one hand cupping the back of your head as the other continues to stroke the sensitive nub of your clit, has you crying out in pleasure.

A deep groan reverberates from his chest and the sensation of his bared teeth against your thundering pulse has you nearing your peak at an alarming pace. Being untouched for so long has weakened your own sense of control. His nails bite into the soft plush of your thighs as he urges your hips closer, slamming you onto his cock. Both of you gasp one another’s names.

During the moment, you aren’t certain who climaxes first. Perhaps it’s the sensation of Aleksander’s release bursting inside you, his hot spend covering your walls, that pushes you over the edge. Or maybe it’s the feeling of your quivering cunt clenching rapidly around his cock, that has Aleksander coming undone with a broken moan.

In the silence afterwards, the two of you lean on one another, breathing heavily as the pleasure of your orgasms thrum through your bodies. Both of you breathe out a smile as you begin to kiss lazily, soft laughs of embarrassment and shared bliss interrupting the movement of your lips. The moment feels youthful.

With shaking hands, Aleksander loosens the ribbons at your bodice. One at a time, he hooks his finger under the straps of your nightdress, dropping the fabric from each of your breasts.

As the two of you begin to catch your breath, he suckles gently on your nipple. His tongue strokes lazily over the bud and the warm heat of his mouth has your cunt clenching around his softening cock.

“Darling,” he rasps warningly, removing his mouth from your breast with a wet sound as his salvia clings to your skin.

Going for another round would ruin you both, but Aleksander in particular would suffer the most from the overstimulation. Nevertheless, your cunt grips at his cock in protest.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I can’t help it.”

He grits his teeth, pulling his cock from your cunt. His fingers dig into your thighs as if he is imagining dragging you back down onto his length.

“I want you, as many times as possible,” he admits against the hollow of your throat as he layers kisses up to your ear. “Until you’re spent and shaking in our bed. I want to feel you come apart on my cock and continue fucking you through your peak.”

His crude words and lingering kisses over your skin have you clenching around nothing, tears of need prickling in the corners of your eyes. He sighs deeply, and both your body and heart aches simultaneously for him. Gently, you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, pushing your arousal away as best you can to comfort him.

“When we’ve found a cure,” you say softly. “When you’re all healed and recovered, we can spend an entire day in bed and you can do whatever you want to me.”

A darkness creeps into his eyes, a sharp glimmer that makes you shiver. He winces slightly at the sensation of tucking his cock back into his trousers, though he manages to give you a smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

A hint of the darkness in his previous expression is now mirrored in your eyes as you return his smile, somewhat bashfully.

“I hope you do.”

»»---------------------►

“You asked to see me?”

At the sound of a familiar voice, you turn away from the entrance to the throne room to face your friend.

“Genya, yes.” The smile you give her is brief as you observe the way she fidgets with the sleeves of her kefta. “How are you?”

The question seems to catch her off guard and her answer is rather stilted.

“I’m well.”

“Walk with me?” you ask, inclining your head towards the length of the throne room. Her nod is jerky but her steps are smooth as she walks beside you.

“I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it must make you, being back here.”

Her back straightens slightly which you pretend not to notice as you turn your head towards the thrones at the head of the room.

“I would have preferred to have returned to the Little Palace,” you admit. “But this building is more defendable.” She nods in response to your words.

Genya is just as practical as you are. Despite how hard it must be, staying in the Grand Palace after everything that happened to her here, you know she will prioritise the advantages it gives. Even still, it can’t be easy for her and you want to offer her something that might make up for it.

The two of you stop at the dais at the head of the room. A small crease appears between her brows as she watches you move towards the collection of decorative swords fixed onto the wall in a rather ornate display.

“I’ve altered the structure of the gold on the throne. I’m certain you’ll find it rather brittle now.” Handing her the one of the king’s many swords, you take a step back, inclining your head towards the throne. “It’s all yours.”

Understanding seems to dawn on her features as she takes the sword from you. There’s a spark of eagerness in her hazel eyes, fuelled by the bone deep anger and hurt she’s been forced to bury inside herself for years. Her grip tightens on the handle, delicate fingers curled with a white knuckle pressure, as she tests the weight of the blade.

“Thank you, moi soverenyi.”

The sound of Aleksander’s title is a surprise - you aren’t sure if it suits you. But the look on Genya’s face has you thinking you might be able to earn it.

As the door closes behind you, a fierce crash sounds from within the throne room and a small satisfied smile quirks at the corner of your mouth. One thing is certain, the Lantsov dynasty is over.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander calls out your name sharply and you lift your head up from the long grass surrounding you. Remaining in fox form, you scamper back over to where he’s waiting with the horses.

The fox is much more familiar with this area of Ravka than you are, meaning that during the search for Morozova’s workshop you’ve shifted form on a number of occasions.

Aleksander crouches down as you approach and you nuzzle your face against his stomach, paws pressing onto his thighs. Dewdrops cling to your fur, soaking the fabric of his kefta and cloak.

“Don’t run off to where I can’t see you,” he warns you, threading his fingers through the fur between your ears. He barely flinches as you shake the dew from your fur, scattering the water droplets around you. “Are we getting close?”

Nodding your head, you turn to lick at his fingers, nudging your damp nose into his open palm. He cups your jaw, blunt nails scratching affectionately at the short hair there.

Shifting back into your human form in front of Aleksander isn’t something you shy away from anymore. His hand remains under your chin as your body returns to its natural state, half settled in his lap and warmth spreads over your cheeks.

“Hello,” you murmur quietly.

Aleksander smiles softly, squeezing your chin affectionately.

“Hello, sweet girl.”

“I think the workshop is around a quarter of a mile away.”

He nods.

It doesn’t take you long to find an abandoned structure, built into the side of a hill. Trees and shrubbery have overtaken the space, hiding it from a casual onlooker. But you would recognise the tingle of merzost and the work of a materialki anywhere.

Old Ravkan sigils have been carved into the rock that comprises the door. Reaching for your power, you encounter an immovable resistance amongst the mechanisms that keep the door locked. Frowning, you brush the tangle of vines and overgrown greenery aside, noting a smudge of red near the centre of the door.

“It’s a blood lock,” you state. “I’m assuming only Morozova blood can open the door.”

Aleksander reaches for the knife tucked beneath his kefta and you wince as he slices a fine cut over his hand. Then he steps towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, grasping onto his sleeve. He frowns, blood pooling from the cut as he holds his hand mere inches from the door.

Retrieving a handkerchief from your pocket, you begin to mop up the blood from Aleksander’s wound, smearing it over the fabric before you wrap it around his hand.

“I’m not letting you put an open wound on such a dirty rock.”

He breathes out a soft laugh, shaking his head despite the fond expression on his face. Aleksander places his hand over the door, blood soaked handkerchief pressing against the stone. The lock shifts, the door opening with a grating sound that has a shiver running down your spine.

Aleksander steps inside first.

At the entrance, there are two stone coffins, side by side. One has been opened, revealing an empty grave, whilst the other remains closed with a freshly picked bunch of snowdrops placed at the helm. Torches light your way, as you follow Aleksander deeper inside.

Baghra stands in the doorway of the workshop, a flickering torch in her hand. She doesn’t seem surprised to see you both. At the sight of his mother, Aleksander’s eyes go wide, scanning over the contents of the workshop behind her to seek out any potential threats.

In the back of your mind, the fox’s fur stands up in anticipation and you turn towards the entrance quickly. But not quick enough. Someone you don’t recognise is standing at the door, watching it close.

Rushing forward, you place your palm against the rough stone of the door, your power reaching for the mechanism at the hinges. After feeling the lock slide into place, you turn back to Aleksander.

“The door’s been locked on the other side. Someone with Morozova blood has sealed us in here,” you say. Aleksander goes still, his eyes unfocused as he comes to some sort of realisation.

“Mal,” he states quietly. “All this time.”

“An otkazat’sya,” Baghra states, a bitter yet knowing look in her eyes. “Morozova did always love the ordinary.”

She steps forwards and Aleksander eyes her warily, moving to stand between you and his mother, though Baghra’s gaze is fixed on the open coffin. She traces her fingertips over the rough edge of the lid, worn by time.

“He made me watch him while he built this coffin, knowing he would never use it. My sister was never buried. There was no village boy saved by Sankt Ilya, like in the stories you’ve heard. There was only my sister. The ordinary girl who should have lived an ordinary life.”

She lifts her head, staring at you.

“There is no firebird.”

“The third amplifier is a person,” you say quietly. She nods, the corner of her mouth twisting.

“Morozova was corrupted with merzost; it seeped into everything he created.”

She glances at Aleksander and you try your hardest not to think about the darkness staining his veins, poisoning his body. As she stares down at the flame flickering in her hand, you watch her move back into the heart of the workshop. Aleksander follows her without hesitation, as a bone deep instinct from his childhood seems to carry him forwards.

“We are his blood,” Baghra says, turning to her son. “There is no redemption for the Morozovas. A legacy of wrongdoing never made right… which ends today.” She looks at you, her eyes locking on yours. Too busy considering her next move, you struggle to decipher her expression. “I tried to warn you, girl. He is beyond saving.”

You shake your head.

“Baghra-”

Before either of you can stop her, she tosses the flaming torch over the contents of Morozova’s desk. The papers there burst into flames instantly. She retrieves another torch from the fixture on the wall as baskets filled with scrolls begin to crumble with the heat, consumed by the fire that burns brighter. Aleksander rushes towards Baghra, snatching the remaining torch from her hand.

“What have you done?” Aleksander asks, his eyes widened as he stares at her.

“What needed to be done, child.”

He shakes his head minutely, taking half a step back from his mother. His expression fractures, anger and sadness and unbridled heartbreak evident from the tears in his eyes and the slight quiver of his lips. Over the crackle of the flames rising, you can scarcely hear his shattered whisper,

“Have you no faith in me?”

“I loved you, Aleksander. Now, I see that was not enough.”

He flinches. Aleksander flinches.

The nonchalance and, at times, outright contempt that you have seen Baghra use when referring to her son has always made you angry. But seeing Aleksander recoil at her words has you wondering how much he has endured over the centuries and an ugly feeling stirs in your stomach.

The fox had remembered Aleksander as a child, and you feel ill at the thought of that small boy growing up believing his mother’s conditional love was all he deserved.

“Madraya,” he whispers weakly. Baghra gathers her hands together and the shadows stir to life. Then a startled cry escapes his lips as he drops the torch, moving forwards to stop her, “No!”

The Cut slices through Baghra’s middle, not a clean cut but deep enough to be fatal. She will bleed out in Aleksander’s arms. He reaches for her swaying body and her clouded eyes fix on the stag bone embedded in his hand, stained with merzost.

“Stupid boy,” she murmurs. Her legs give out and her son catches her.

He sinks to his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks as he holds Baghra close. Sobs heave at his shoulders, as he grips onto Baghra’s dress, rocking back and forth with the strength of his cries. He’s murmuring quietly, small pleas and apologies, and tears gather in your own eyes at the sight.

Aleksander is shaking as he reaches to close her eyes, smoothing her hair back with care. He chokes on another sob, a childlike whine of loss catching in his throat.

Slowly, you place your hand on his shoulder. His hold on Baghra loosens slightly, as he leans towards you. He rests his forehead against your collarbone, eyes shut tightly as grief settles into his heart.

“Aleksander. I’m so sorry, but we need to get out of here.”

He nods weakly. His eyes are unfocused as he looks at your surroundings, as if he isn’t truly seeing the flames curling around the two of you. Only Morozova blood, on the other side of the door can fix this. Knowing this, you search for an alternative to keep you alive.

“Maybe we could use some dirt to stop the fire?”

Aleksander nods, some clarity returning to his features as he comes back to himself somewhat.

“Search the floor,” he instructs you.

The two of you scour over the rough floor of the cave, giving Baghra’s body a wide berth. With every step, panic begins to fill you and your lungs tighten as the fire begins to rage around you.

The fox skitters frantically through your thoughts, agitated at being trapped with no escape. Aleksander heaves out a violent cough and worry spikes through your stomach. There’s a weary rasp to his voice as he asks,

“Anything?”

“It’s all stone,” you cry out.

“Here.”

Hurrying over to him, you stare down at a tiny patch of dry brown dirt. The ground is too solid for you to gather enough dirt to snuff out the fire that now blazes as more papers are consumed by flame.

“Aleksander, that isn’t enough.”

“Shift.”

“What?”

“Shift into your other form and dig yourself out of here.”

You frown at him.

“There isn’t time for me to get out and around to unlock the door.” Not to mention that only Morozova blood can activate the blood lock. Perhaps you could take the bloody handkerchief from his hand?

He shakes his head.

“I want you to leave me here.”

Stepping backwards, you shake your head with tears glossing in your eyes. The fox goes frighteningly still in your mind as you both stare at Aleksander.

“No. You told me not to leave you again.”

Something shatters in his expression as he steps closer to you, gripping onto your forearms as he insists softly,

“This is different.”

“The Grisha need someone to lead them,” you protest, trying to appeal to his rational side. No one can protect them like he does. He takes your hands as the flames creep up the walls of the cave.

“They have you,” he says lowly. “You understand what needs to be done. You understand sacrifice.”

Tears spill over your cheeks as you cry openly. The nichevo’ya stir in the shadows, responding to Aleksander’s distress but unable to materialise without his call.

“I do… but there’s one thing I can’t sacrifice. You, Aleksander. Everything I’ve done has been for you. I can’t- I won’t leave you.”

He draws you into his arms, sinking the two of you down onto the ground to escape the smoke. Coughs rattle through his lungs, as he breathes into the folded crook of his elbow. The frantic heaving of his chest frightens you and once his coughing stops he buries his face into the juncture of your neck. Every breath he takes is shaky and you can hear how thin the air is for him already.

“My sweet girl, I’m so sorry,” he whispers in a broken voice.

It takes everything in you to pull yourself from his arms, stumbling over towards the remains of the desk as Aleksander continues to choke on the smoke. Your own lungs itch in your chest, throat dry as you scramble through the surviving papers, searching for Morozova’s research on the blood lock. Everything requires balance, something must be able to counter the bond placed on the stone of the door. Something must be able to break the seal.

With shaking hands, you scour through charred papers, doing your best to beat the flames back with the sleeves of your kefta. Once you find what you’re looking for, you toss the little journal onto the dry-stone floor. Instantly, you sink to your knees beside it. Your mind is running faster than you can keep up with, turning pages like lightning, eyes flickering over the scribblings of Aleksander’s grandfather.

Then you find it. According to Morozova’s research, the only thing that can counter a blood lock is someone else’s blood.

Without any time to hesitate, you reach for the knife in your sleeve. Grisha steel bites into your palm, sticky red blossoming from the cut which you smear over the surface of the door, mimicking the pattern drawn onto one of the pages you had seen.Using both hands, you place them in a familiar position and draw upon your power.

Concentrating on the lock is difficult. With the air thinning, sweat rolling down your skin and emotions running high in your mind, focusing on the stone cogs that will open the door seems almost impossible. The fox bares his teeth in the back of your mind and your doubts cower away. Then there’s a low groan from the door.

A gasp catches in the back of your throat as a thin sliver of daylight slips through the gap, pale and faint but it’s the most glorious thing you’ve ever seen. There’s the sound of movement behind you, but all your energy has been placed on forcing the door to open.

Aleksander presses his chest against your back, encaging you with his arms so that he can curl both of his hands around each of your wrists. His power flows alongside yours, helping you to slowly shift the mechanisms of the lock held in place by his grandfather’s blood.

Even with Aleksander’s amplification, it’s a struggle. It’s only once you notice the darkness crawling over his hands that you turn back to look at him.

Black skeins of merzost creep over his cheeks, his blood thick with the dark magic he’s drawing into his body to continue amplifying your power. The veins in his neck are stained with shadow, curling around his throat as he struggles to breathe. The sound of his lungs rattling has tears blurring your vision.

“Aleksander,” you whisper, your voice hoarse with emotion.

“Don’t look at me,” he insists. “Just focus on the door.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you draw upon every scrap of power inside you. There’s a fierce sound of stone grating against stone which rings in your ears. A large sigh of relief heaves at your shoulders, though a sharp cough rattles in your chest at the sudden inhale of smoke.

As you emerge from the cave, Aleksander appears to be on the verge of losing consciousness. Draping his arm over your shoulders, you manage to drag the two of you from the smoke. He stumbles over his feet, struggling to keep himself upright after the exertion of amplifying your power. Both of you wobble unsteadily, clinging to one another for support as you attempt to get back to your horses.

Stones and mud scuff against your boots, making your journey all the more difficult. There’s a fierce pain at your temples, coughs wrack through your body alongside Aleksander. He bends, doubled over, as he chokes. Black blood drips from his nose and lips, running down his chin.

He sinks to his knees and you fall with him, the world spins as dry leaves touch your palms. Aleksander is on his back, your legs somewhat tangled with his as you struggle to stay conscious.

Voices in the distance have anxiety spiking in your chest but when you lift your head to survey the oncoming threat, the blood rushes to your head. Stars sparkle in your vision, your breath shifting into rapid gasps before you collapse against Aleksander’s chest.

»»---------------------►

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#keep your judgement au #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

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The Seer

Summary: With the Fall of the Republic, and the destruction of the Jedi, your specific talents have made you a target. Luckily for you, with the right ambience, you can make even the most determined Inquisitor think that you’re a fraud. Unluckily for you, your fraud has caught the attention of some very dangerous spirits, and they will stop at nothing to see you punished.

Pairing: Future TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: Mentions of Order 66, Reader is literally haunted

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @clonethirstingisreal (since you like hunter ^-^)

A/N: I had an idea, so I decided to run with it. (My husband and friends are making onigiri for dinner with pork and I'm already sick so I'm not having dinner, I guess)

One year ago today, you were a Jedi.

Well, okay, you were a Jedi Padawan who had been sentenced to a year in the EduCorps due to something that you may, or may not, have done.

It had been a slog. So many books, so many papers, so many people lording their intelligence over you simply because they were assigned to the “smart” corps.

You hated it at the time, and even now, a year later, the memory is still enough to make you grumbly. Just, not as much as you used to be.

It’s hard to hate people who were wiped out to the last, after all.

Sometimes, late at night, you wonder how different things would have been if your nightmares and visions had been taken seriously. Would the Order have survived the Purge? Would the Clones have not turned on them? Would the Council have foreseen the betrayal?

And, like, sure. You know that visions don’t always come true. And you know that sometimes, in the process of trying to make something not come true you can make it happen faster. But! You’d been having the same nightmare since the start of the war.

Surely that had to have meant something?!

Your Master…disagreed.

He disagreed with you about a lot of things.

Not that he’s around to disagree with you on things anymore. He died in the purge…just like everyone else.

You only survived because the night before the purge, the Force practically screamed a warning for you to move, to go, and to never look back. And so you did.

You heard about the Purge 16 hours after it happened. And ever since that moment, you’ve been running.

Bouncing from planet to planet, jumping from job to job, trying to stay one step ahead of the Inquisitors and the Imperial soldiers who would absolutely execute you if they caught you.

That was until you, while working an odd job for a pirate, stumbled across a woman being harassed by Imperial Soldiers. She was an odd looking woman, draped in long skirts and long shawls, with large earrings and intricate paint decorating her pale blue skin.

The woman claimed to be a seer blessed by the spirits, and could foresee the future and allow the Imperials to speak with their deceased family. She waxed poetic about lucky charms and tarot readings, and, to your genuine shock, they left, calling her a lunatic.

You stare at the woman, your jaw dropped, and she winked at you, before she went back to hawking her lucky charms.

It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

Foolishness.

Ridiculous.

And yet…

And yet, if it’s stupid and it works, then is it really stupid?

Two months later, you open a little shop on Pabu, selling lucky charms, tarot readings, and love readings to anyone who wants to pay you. And a lot of people want to pay you.

You clad yourself in long skirts and loose shawls, and you let your hair hang freely around your head, tied out of your eyes by a ribbon that matches your outfit.

And not a single person pegs you as an actual Jedi.

Con-artist and miracle worker, but not Jedi.

It’s not really how you foresaw your life going, but really, being called a con-artist is better than being a Jedi any day of the week. Especially since Jedi means dead.

And that is how your days go…right up until Phee brought clones to your shop.

You love Phee, absolutely adore her, but the moment you see clones standing in your shop you are wondering how quickly you can kill her and dispose of her body without anyone missing her.

Still, you’re no fool. So you plaster your most vapid smile on your face and swish around them offering free tarot readings since they are friends of Phee.

You are almost offended when the one in glasses tells you that your tarot readings are a load of hogwash.

Almost.

After all, it’s not like you actually believe this nonsense either.

But, since Phee is a friend and she considers the clones her friends, you decide to tolerate them. After all, they seem very reasonable, not at all like the men you had nightmares of for three years.

And slowly, over time, you end up becoming friends with them.

Wrecker is always good for laughs, and he is more than happy to come around and help you move heavy objects. Tech takes one look at your electrical panel and nearly has a heart attack on the spot. In fact, aside from Omega, who thinks you’re a little weird and likes to keep her distance, the only one you don’t spend a large amount of time with is Hunter.

Echo quietly tells you that the incense that you use around your shop, incense you use to keep force spirits from harassing you, gives him a migraine, and you feel guilty enough that you put them away and air out the shop.

Which brings you to today.

Today you’re wearing shorts and a tank top, and you’ve abandoned your mystical look in favor of more practical ‘running for your life’ attire.

The Empire didn’t find you. No. That would have been easy.

You can kill Imperial Soldiers.

You can’t kill Force Ghosts.

In your defense, you don’t mean to get Hunter involved.

And you definitely don’t mean to crash into him at full speed.

Hunter catches you before you hit the ground, which is probably a good thing because running into plastoid armor at full speed is not something that you recommend.

He looks…surprised as he sets you back on your feet.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not wearing miles of fabric.” He says slowly, and then his eyes narrow, “What are you running from?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” You blurt, your eyes darting one way and then the other.

He opens his mouth to say something and then he stills, his nostrils flaring, “What is that?”

“What?” you ask, alarmed.

And then the sensation washes over you. Cold, like ice nipping at your fingers and the tip of your nose. Followed by the whispers, barely words, yet radiating malice.

“I…have to go. Now. I have to go now.” You blurt as you try to twist out of his grip, only for Hunter to grab your shoulders and jerk you to the side.

A sensation, like that of a hand grabbing for you, brushes passed your arm, causing an immediate bruise to form on your arm.

Hunter stares at the red bruise on your arm, “Time to go.”

“Yep.” You agree immediately, “Away from people, preferably.”

Hunter takes your hand and starts pulling you away from the spirits…things…that are hunting you.

Luckily he seems to be able to sense them better than you can.

Half an hour later, you’re on the outskirts of the city and you, who haven't worked out properly since well before the Purge, are panting for air as you run after him.

“What did you do to make invisible enemies? And what are they?” Hunter demands as he jerks you to one side and then twists you so that two different spirits aren’t able to touch you.

“Um…no comment, and I think they’re spirits.”

“Please tell me that’s a joke?”

“Uh…no.”

“You’re telling me that ghosts are real?” Hunter demands as he jumps down into a stream and then lifts you up onto the other ledge.

“Well-”

Hunter just sighs, and drops the subject. He stops for a moment, his hand on your shoulder, and he listens. “Okay, I think we’re safe for now. I can’t hear them.”

You collapse onto a rock with a sigh of relief, “I haven’t run so much in ages,” You mumble. And then you straighten and glance at him, “You know, the spirits are very displeased with you.” You say, “They’re mad that you’re helping me.”

“Yeah?” Hunter scowls, “Feeling’s mutual. Little shits.”

You release a slightly hysterical little laugh, and you clamp your hand over your mouth when Hunter looks at you in concern. “Sorry.” You whisper, and you’re surprised to feel tears on your cheeks.

He looks deeply, deeply uncomfortable but he still kneels in front of you and places his hand on your shoulder, “You’re doing a great job.” He says, “There’s no need for tears.”

“I don’t even know why I’m crying-”

“It’s a lot, being hunted by things. Especially invisible things.” Hunter says, trying so hard to be gentle with you, and it’s obvious it doesn’t come naturally to him, “Do you have any idea why they’re coming after you?”

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” You say dryly, “But, like, all of the Jedi were killed.”

“...o…kay?”

You sigh and pick up a stick and draw some stick figures on the ground, “Jedi.” You say, and then you draw some more, “Sith.” You draw little angry lines around the sith. “When the Jedi died, the Force made a sharp turn towards the Dark.”

“Meaning-”

“Meaning the galaxy’s gone to shit.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Hunter agrees, and then he looks at you, “Follow up question.”

“Hm?”

“How do you know anything about the force?” Hunter asks.

“Uh…”

“Are you a Jedi?”

“...ummm…”

“You are. Why the kriff is a Jedi pretending to be a fake psychic?”

“Oh, come on. Because everyone knows that I’m a fake psychic.” You roll your eyes, “You know,” You adopt the wispy voice you use when you’re working, “If you make a healthy change then your soulmate will appear-”

“...you’re conning the Empire.” He says slowly.

“Better a con-artist than dead.” You point out logically.

“You’re not wrong, but I can’t believe that that works.”

“They’re not very smart, and they have a specific mental image as to what Jedi look like, so-”

“Huh…You know, I thought Jedi were supposed to be in better shape.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I have been pretending to be a fake psychic for the last year and the year before that I was…not at the temple.”

“Where were you?”

“I was at the EdiCorps Campus. As punishment. For punching a racist senator.”

Hunter smirks, “That right?”

You open your mouth to reply but then both of your heads snap to the side, “They found us.” You say as you scramble to your feet.

“So it seems.” He grabs your hand and tugs you, “Time to run.”

#star wars #tbb #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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koinotame · 3 months

Note

— ooh for your event, can i send a box of homemade chocolate and a dagger for The Servant? and also pls tell him to take care of himself.

Have a great day <33

he’s never going to use this, he thinks.

the dagger you’ve given him is intricately crafted, small regal-looking designs carved into the metal. it’s one he’d picked out together with you a couple weeks ago. you’d been browsing through a local seasonal market with him when a particularly decorative weapon stall had caught your attention. you’d asked which pattern he preferred and he’d felt proud you were considering his opinion. he didn’t realise you were asking because you were getting it for him.

in the end, he’s glad he picked the pattern he thought you’d like most. if it’s a gift from you, then it’s only fitting that you decorate him and everything he owns to your tastes.

no, he could never actually use this and stain it.

he’ll frame it on his bedside table, that way he can always be reminded of you and your care for him. perhaps he could sleep with it, even… (sheathed, of course—he would take any injury you wish to bestow upon him, especially with something you’ve taken such care to give to him, but that should be by your hand, not his own.) or—

"so," you draw out, shaking him out of his thoughts, "do you like it?"

from the way you’re grinning at him, self assured and beautiful and pleased, he thinks you know the answer.

but you’ve asked him a question, and it’s his duty to answer. "I will treasure this forever. thank you, master."

you laugh. his cheeks feel warm.

"I’m glad! I also made you some chocolate." you remove your hands from your back and hand him a small, handwrapped package. the ribbon holding it closed is messily tied and the fabric is crumbled. out of the corner of his eyes, he can see you avert yours. "that one, uh, didn’t come out so well though."

"I would love anything you were to give me." and he means it. even trash would be something worth delighting in if it comes from you.

you smile at him again and he thinks he could keep up the hard work for another week without rest.

he’s about to open his mouth to ask when you beat him to it. the thought of you just knowing him that well fills his chest with butterflies. "it’s not celebrated here I think, but where I’m from today’s a holiday… it’s kind of tradition to confess your feelings with chocolate today. though more recently it’s also shifting into giving your loved ones chocolate in general."

his mind completely skips over how you’d never told him this in the past.

are you… are you confessing to him? is he dreaming?

"so!" you clap your hands and clear your throat before he can say anything. "I feel like you’ve been overworking yourself a lot lately. take care of yourself, okay? I care about you a lot."

something in his heart twinges.

instead, he smiles pleasantly.

"your gift is all the motivation I would ever need." you don’t look convinced, but he continues before you can insist. "are you handing out chocolate to anyone else?"

you nod, seemingly distracted. "yep, you’re the last one."

ah.

of course.

his smile stays the same, his eyes crinkling in a way that he hopes is convincing. "thank you, master. I’m honoured you would think of me amongst those you care about."

you’re halfway through your own grin before you seem to remember something and frown again, trying to look stern. "don’t switch the topic like that." you jab an accusatory finger in his chest. his chest flutters at the contact. "you’re going to take care of yourself even if it means I have to drag you to bed by your hair, you hear me?"

his heart throbs again.

if it means keeping your attention on him, perhaps you pulling him by his hair through the halls wouldn’t be so bad, even if hurts, even if it should be him taking care of you.

but the smile that pulls at his cheeks is a bit more soft, a bit more genuine this time. "of course, master. I’m yours to do with as you please."

#asks #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #ocs #gacha isekai #servant #he's not very yan in this one but that's ok.#he cries while eating the choco btw #also thank you!!! you too :D

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ficsilike-reblogged · 1 year

Text

Of Monsters & Mistletoe

A/N: Yet another holiday fic? Already? Yes, because I am extra sappy this year and Steve deserves a smooch or two. Reader does celebrate Christmas in this and she and Steve both have shitty parents. It also makes mention of all events of seasons 1-4. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Steve Harrington/F!Reader

Rating: PG-A soft little thing

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: The five times Steve almost kissed you beneath the mistletoe and the one time he finally did.

The first time Steve almost kissed you beneath the mistletoe, your family had just moved to Hawkins and had been invited to the holiday party at the country club. Just like his parents, yours were more interested in being seen than having an actual holiday-themed good time. You were dressed up in a stuffy red dress with fluffy white detailing and were told to sit still at a table near the back of the banquet hall with a steaming cup of hot chocolate as your only company.

Steve was seated a few tables away, his own hot chocolate long since drained. His parents were…somewhere. He could hear his mom’s laugh just barely over the Christmas music—she’d been practicing it in the mirror before leaving the house. His father was probably at her side, speaking with someone “important.”

“And you need to be on your best behavior, Steve,” he said, for the fourth time that night before the car door shut.

But ‘best behavior’ didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to the sad-looking girl, right? He could have friends, too. Steve hopped out of his designated seat and walked to your side. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of your mouth and you shyly gave him your name, too. You offered to split your hot chocolate with him and he learned that you were a grade below him, about to start school at Hawkins Elementary the next week. You were nice and kind and a little strange, Steve would admit, with your interests revolving around books and bugs, but you were nice. And it had been your idea to sneak away from your table to see the rest of the pretty decorations strung up around the country club. Your little hand curled around his as you darted around dancing couples and between schmoozing groups to look at the intricately decorated trees, the miniature porcelain towns, the light displays all over the sprawling building. It was beautiful. Really. But Steve just liked holding your hand. You were out of breath by the time you slowed to a stop near one of the exits, a bright smile on your face. “Everything is so pretty,” you said, still holding his hand.

“Yep,” Steve said with a smile of his own. He’d never had this much fun at one of these parties. “Do you want to help me build a snow fort tomor-”

Someone behind you cooed and you both turned to see his father’s secretary looking at you, pointing at something above your heads. You looked up and saw a small sprig of…something. Green leaves with tiny berries tied up in a red ribbon. “It is mistletoe, little man,” the woman said, hands on her hips.

Steve felt the blood drain from his face at the realization. Mistletoe. He knew what was supposed to happen but you were his friend. His first friend he made in a long time. And friends don’t kiss each other.

“You have to do it!” She prodded with another coo.

Following directions was something pressed onto Steve from his parents since day one. Telling him to do as he was told (and to be seen not heard) came out of their mouths more often than “I love you.” So, Steve frowned but leaned forward, intent on pressing his lips to yours when your hand came up to his face and you none-too-gently pushed him back. “Germs. You have germs.”

The second time Steve almost kissed you beneath the mistletoe came a few years later. Steve was on the cusp of entering high school and you were still more interested in books than most everything else, aside from the archery hobby you picked up at your father’s insistence. (Thankfully, your fascination with bugs and fear of germs had subsided.) And, despite both sets of parents’ hopes, you two didn’t exactly run in the same social circles at school. He had settled into the sporty, popular crowd. And you? Well…you had one friend: Jonathan Byers. The resident weird kid who was “lightyears away” from your family’s position, according to the whispers Steve heard between the Harringtons and your parents. And Steve tried to understand why he didn’t like Jonathan. He saw you smile and laugh with the Byers kid more than you ever did at these ridiculous country club “parties.” You were still kind to Steve, though. In your own strange way. And it really shouldn’t matter,

right

? It wasn’t like you were actually friends. More like you were each other’s only confidante in these circumstances, the only kids in your age range.

Sure. That was it.

You weaved through the crowd with your chin tucked to your chest (expertly dodging an underpaid assistant dressed as an elf who had a bit of mistletoe tied to a long pole that he’d dangle over people regardless of marital status) with two cups of hot chocolate in your hands, topped with an excessive amount of whipped cream and sprinkles. Steve took the proffered cup as you slid into the chair beside him and resumed your game of people watching from the sidelines.

“That woman,” you whispered from behind your hot chocolate, pointing a mostly inconspicuous finger at a woman with an outrageously tasseled sweater near the pyramid of champagne, “is apparently sleeping with one of the bigshot’s at her husband’s firm.”

“Does the husband know?” Steve asked, hiding a smile of his own.

“Yes. But he won’t say anything because he’s apparently getting a large raise to let it keep happening.” You took a large sip of your hot chocolate, earning a smear of whipped cream on the end of your nose. You tried to lick it away without success and Steve eventually tossed a bright red napkin at your face with a laugh as you continued to fill him in on the gossip you had overheard. There were, unsurprisingly, a large amount of affairs. Someone was probably (definitely) stealing from their boss. And someone else was caught doing coke at their office after Thanksgiving.

“How do you know all this?” Steve asked.

You shrugged. “Um, my parents are always telling me to keep my mouth shut and my head down. Maybe people think that since I’m not talking, I’m not listening.”

He winced. The old “be seen and not heard” song and dance was his father’s favorite, too. But while Steve still wanted to at least gain his parents’ attention, you seemed to revel in being forgotten most days. It looked…freeing. At least from the outside looking in.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” The sudden question had both you and Steve looking up from the table to see the assistant standing near the edge, a broad smile on his face. “Childhood sweethearts? How cute!” Then, without waiting for an answer, swung the mistletoe toward you, dangling it over your heads.

Dread immediately washed over Steve as he looked at the little berries and green leaves. Did you want to kiss him? Plenty of other girls as school did—and he usually took them up on the offer. But this was you. And this was the Christmas party. If his parents caught him making a scene-

“We’re just friends, actually,” you answered with a smile.

The elf-assistant did have the tact to blush and mutter an apology before trudging away, promptly swinging the mistletoe between another pair who quickly kissed. The crowd around them cheered, tipsy on eggnog and champagne.

“That was creepy,” you muttered. Your fingers trailed around and around on the edge of your mug of hot chocolate.

“You said we were friends.” The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he could stop them. Before he could understand what he was trying to say. Were you friends? Did you think of him as a friend?

But you just smiled and finished off your hot chocolate before speaking again. “It’s okay, Steve. I know I’m only your friend at these parties.”

Steve felt his face fall as he watched you smile and shake your head. Would that be so bad? To be friends with the weird girl? But, just as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, you were standing and walking away toward the door where your parents were waiting.

He watched you go, a little helplessly, and tried to smile at you as you glanced back at him, pulling your thick coat on. It didn’t work.

The third time Steve nearly kissed you under the mistletoe came years later. It had taken a monster from a different dimension nearly killing him and getting his face nearly caved in by Jonathan Byers for Steve to truly see you as a friend. You were funny and smart and brave. And you cared so much for other people. Steve had caught you sobbing in the hallway after helping Jonathan put up posters for Will and you had stood in front of Steve, armed with just your bow, and had earned yourself nearly thirty stitches and a scolding from your mother when she’d picked you up from the hospital for ruining the designer sweatshirt you had been wearing. Both Joyce and Hopper had looked furious but you’d waved them off as you let your mother lead the way out of the hospital.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday,”

you murmured with a lackadaisical smile as you passed him.

“Might want to put a bit of ice on that shiner, though.”

Yeah, you were his friend. He didn’t even mind the whispers that came when he would talk to you in the hallways. (The rumors he’d heard about your injuries ranged from plausible to ridiculous and he tried to shield you from them as much as possible.) He should have been hanging out with you this entire time. Steve had never felt so at ease with Tommy H. or Carol or any of the other bullshit hangers-on he’d been surrounded with for years. You were just…you. And Steve liked you. When you’d excitedly hugged him after he told you he passed the economics exam you’d helped him study for, it felt like his entire chest fluttered. So, when you invited him to a Christmas party at your house, muttering something about your mom not trusting your dad around a certain waitress at the country club, he leapt at it. His parents were probably already invited, too, and he didn’t want to leave you alone to face that monotony.

He and his parents arrived “fashionably late” to your parents’ large house. Everything was perfectly in its place; from the oversized and ornately decorated tree to the lighted garland wrapped around the carved banisters and railings. People were muttering about how much the decorations and food must’ve cost behind their cups of mulled wine as they waited their turn to speak to your parents. A string octet was set up near the stairs, filling the entire house with subdued versions of popular Christmas songs.

But Steve wasn’t here for that. He was here for you. Your movements were still a bit stilted, favoring your right side even though your stitches came out yesterday. The Santa hat on your head was crooked, too, but you didn’t seem to mind as you sucked on the curve of a candy cane. And why did his stomach twist at the sight of it?

After seeing that his parents were already preoccupied, Steve slipped through the crowd and to your side, snagging a candy cane of his own on the way. You smiled around the sweet treat as you spotted him, patting the bar stool at your side. He took it with a smile, fumbling with the candy cane’s plastic wrap for a moment before you grabbed it and deftly unwrapped it before handing it over. “Thanks for coming. People watching isn’t as fun without my usual partner in crime.” The smile you gave him made it impossible to not reciprocate.

“Yeah, yeah, anytime,” he said even though he’d missed the last handful of Christmas parties. Now Steve wished he hadn’t come up with a flimsy excuse to get out of them.

You settled onto the stool beside you before swiveling around to look out at the large crowd milling about your house. The conversation quickly fell back into your old habits of people watching and you regaling him about the gossip you’d learned as the adults around you steadily got drunker and drunker on the expensive wine your parents had brought in by the case. Steve added a few things here and there that he had overheard, too. But, eventually, with the taste of spiked eggnog on your tongues, you asked about classes and told him about yours, too. You shook your head when Steve asked about the book you were writing for your creative writing class and tried to hide your smile behind your cup. “It is so nerdy. You’d hate me.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

The answering smile you gave him was near blinding and Steve wanted to make you smile like that again. All the time. Even if he didn’t really understand the “lore” (as you called it) of your story and didn’t really understand the appeal of elves and monsters and dragons, he liked your smile. Even if it did twist at something in his chest. The strange sensation he’d felt the night he saw you and Nancy with Jonathan returned like a sledgehammer to his ribs when you mentioned you’d be spending the holidays with the Byers family since your parents were taking a cruise to “work through things.” You didn’t believe it.

“You and Nancy are spending Christmas Eve together, right?” You asked as you finished. You’d snuck him another cup of eggnog and then pulled your Santa hat off to plop it right onto his hair. For a moment, he could smell your rose and mint perfume and he wondered if you wore it all the time. Not that it mattered, right?

“Yeah, her parents do a big dinner that night.”

“Nervous?” You asked with a quirked brow. “Quite a time to make a first impression, yeah?”

“Why would I be nervous?” Steve asked with a scoff. “Parents love me.”

And you laughed. Laughed and patted his knee. “Sure they do.”

Before he could ask what the hell you meant, his dad was saying his name. The prominent red across his face let Steve know that his father was either drunk or angry. Or both. His mother was at his side and they both said a few words to your parents before leaving with broad, fake smiles. Great. Just great. That was never a good sign.

You slipped off your barstool with a grimace. “I’ll walk you out. C’mon.” You led him to the door, weaving between people with ease and slowed to a stop beside the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

No one had told him that before. And wasn’t that just pathetic? “Of course-”

“Pucker up, kiddos!”

In a twisted sense of Deja vu, Steve looked up to see the sprig of mistletoe above the doorway. There was a small crowd near the door, and everyone’s drunken gazes were focused on the pair of you. He heart leapt as he looked at you, seeing the Christmas lights wash you in their gentle glow. He could kiss you right now and try to see what those twists and flutters in his chest were trying to tell him.

He could.

But he didn’t. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t his father. There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, for embarrassing you in front of all these people, for not kissing you, for-

But you beat him to it. Feeling the eyes on you, you hooked your thumb under Steve’s chin and gently pushed his head to the side. You made a show of pressing a loud peck to his cheek before stepping away from his side as a few of the more intoxicated partygoers booed in your direction.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Maybe winding up under the mistletoe with you was just a strange yearly tradition. At least that was what Steve told himself the fourth time he nearly kissed you. It would be a better tradition than the return of the demogorgons and the Upside Down.

This year had…sucked. His parents had continued their usual disinterest but now it was coupled by grating disapproval, too. His prospects of getting into a good university were dwindling by the week despite your best efforts to help him raise his grades, and Nancy had basically left him for Jonathan. But he had you.

Right?

That’s what he told himself when he had been invited to Tina’s Christmas party. He could go with you instead of feeling like a complete loser. You accepted his invitation with an unsure smile, not entirely comfortable with that crowd, but Steve had tried to soothe your worries with a promise to not leave your side. It was the same promise you had given him before you and the kids had jumped down into the tunnels to set “the hub” on fire to help Eleven.

“I am not letting them do this on their own, Steve. And I won’t leave you behind. I promise.”

Despite the absolute beating Billy had bestowed on him, Steve had followed you in. You’d been hurt, too, caught up in the slaughter at the Lab, trying to keep Mike and Joyce safe. But you hadn’t stopped. Steve found himself realizing you never did. You were often the first to arrive and the last to leave whenever anyone needed help with something. He’d found himself parking next to your car, more often than not, whenever the kids needed a ride home from the arcade or the Wheeler’s house. You hadn’t batted an eye when Steve rang your house at some god-awful hour to ask you to come over after he saw how happy Nancy was with Jonathan; you had arrived at his house with a thermos filled with hot chocolate and a sleepy smile. You’d listened to Steve pour his heart out and you reciprocated, telling him how you had felt a little betrayed that Jonathan had gone to Nancy instead of you when they had wanted to bring down the lab.

“But they’re happy, right?” you asked, licking at the remnants of cocoa on your lip. “We just want them to be happy. Even if it isn’t with us.”

You were always there. Ready to listen. Ready to try and make him smile. Just there. Always.

The party was in full swing by the time Steve parked his Beamer on Tina’s lawn beside the dozen other haphazardly parked cars. You slowly got out of the passenger side and gave him a thin smile and Steve was quick to smooth his hands down your arms to squeeze at your mitten-covered fingers. “We can leave right now. I don’t mind.”

But you shook your head. “You wanted to go and…and it’s about time I actually start going to parties, right? Maybe I’ll have fun.”

“If you’re not having fun in fifteen minutes, I’m getting you out of here and we can go to the movies or something.”

Your mouth twisted to the side and you ducked your head to look at the snow beneath your boots. “Can we go look at Christmas lights instead?”

And Steve just about melted. “Yeah, sweetheart. We can look at Christmas lights.”

You nodded and he watched a bit of tension fall from your shoulders before he led you into the party. Spinal Tap’s ridiculous Christmas song was playing over busted speakers but hardly anyone cared, already a few cups deep into the trashcan drink that Tina had sworn tasted like candy canes. You winced as you took a drink and Steve quickly switched it out for a can of Pepsi he snagged from the fridge.

You were content to sit in the kitchen and sip on your pop while Steve was called from one end of the house to the other by one acquaintance and then another. But every time he turned to make sure you were still okay, you smiled at him. Maybe it was the Christmas lights Tina had strung up across every wall. Maybe it was the snow starting to fall just outside. Maybe it was the second cup of that candy cane drink.

But you were beautiful.

Fuck. But this was fine, right? Friends could find one another attractive and still be friends. Before he could stop himself or realize what he was doing, Steve was walking toward you, discarding his drink on the nearest flat surface. “Wanna get out of here?”

Your nose scrunched as you looked down at the watch on your wrist. “You still have seven minutes of your allotted fifteen.”

Of course you would know that. Of course you were keeping track. “Doesn’t matter. I think I promised you Christmas lights.” He stole the can of pop from your hand and set it down before curling his arm around your shoulders after righting your evergreen scarf over your neck. Your laugh had his heart clawing its way up his throat but his stomach gave an answering drop as soon as you reached the door and someone behind him yelled for him to stop. Steve turned, hauling you with him, and saw Tommy H. pointing at something above your heads.

Mistletoe.

“Let’s see if Harrington still has any sway with the ladies!” He sneered. The crowd around him cheered. He wanted to humiliate Steve. “C’mon, Stevie-boy! Can’t you even get into the nerd’s pants?”

You tensed. Steve felt the muscles of your back and shoulders coil like a snake waiting to strike. “What’s your problem, Tommy?” You bit out. “Did Carol cuck you again so you need to take it out on someone else to feel like a ‘man’ again? Or did you finish too early—again—and she kicked you out of bed?”

The crowd around them cheered, again, too drunk to truly pick a side.

“That isn’t true-”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve heard about your lackluster skills too many times.” The red lights from Tina’s tree were bleeding across your face, making you look like some vengeful warrior. “I wonder why she puts up with you; it surely isn’t your looks or your limp dick.” Tommy’s face was an impressive shade of red and he opened his mouth to say something else but now you were the one pulling Steve outside, bypassing the mistletoe entirely with a firm hand in his. “C’mon. I hear the lights in Loch Nora are really good this year.”

He could have kissed you. Maybe he should have. But he didn’t.

“I swear to god, Steve. If you don’t actually do something-”

“Shut up, Robin!”

It had been two years (again) since Steve had been beneath a bit of mistletoe with you. Two years of confusing feelings and nearly dying. Two years of more monsters from the Upside Down and lingering looks that Steve hoped meant what he thought they did. Two years of changes and moving forward.

The biggest change, in a weird way, for Steve was that you had moved out of state to start university, rooming with Robin. Sure, there’d been the “mall fire” and the “earthquakes” but you leaving had been…different. It wasn’t Hawkins anymore if you weren’t in it.

But for right now, you were here. He spotted you across the large room as Joyce whispered something in your ear that had you giggling before Will tugged on your hand. Your bridesmaid dress was made of silky dark green fabric and you looked…beautiful. Of course, Joyce looked nice in her simple white dress with snowflake lace at her wrists, but Steve couldn’t stop looking at you. Joyce and Hopper had (finally) pulled the trigger and got married, waiting until all the kids were back in town for the holidays so everyone could attend the celebration with a few dozen other guests. It was a perfect little party and it had been so good to see everyone. The small venue was filled with Christmas trees and an overabundance of tinsel and extra lights stung up across the ceiling. (There was a few sprigs of mistletoe, too, but Steve was definitely not staring at those.) Christmas music was interspersed with cheesy love songs from decades past and snow was slowly falling outside. It was a perfect late December evening. You were dancing to The Ramones’ strange Christmas song, mostly jumping around with Jonathan and Will with an infectious smile on your face.

“Dude. Staring.”

Steve’s entire face felt hot and he turned away to face Eddie with a frown. “I’m not staring at her.”

And Eddie smirked. The faint scarring stretching across his cheek puckered the slightest bit. “I never said anything about her.” He then turned to look at you, too, watching as you let El tug you into another dance so you could messily dance with the kids, laughter on your tongue. “She does look good, by the way.”

“I know she does,” Steve grumbled. You had been self-conscious about the thin shoulder straps and cut of the dress and had fretted all morning after helping Joyce get ready, saying that your scars were too visible. And yes, he could see them. He could see the jagged thing twisting down your arm from the Soviet guard’s best attempt to break you in the underground base. (You hadn’t broken, but Steve’s heart nearly did when you screamed for him.) He could see the small scar on your knee from where you’d fallen off Max’s skateboard, an unofficial end to your skateboard lessons with the younger girl. You’d traded archery lessons with her, but Max had taken to archery as well as you had to skateboarding—but Steve knew that your steady presence in Max’s life had been a comfort to the redhead, even if she was slow to admit it to anyone aside from you. You’d bailed on the country club’s party last year to spend it with her since Susan needed to work a double.

“So, since you’re definitely not staring at her, would you mind if I danced with her?”

The grip Steve had on his cup of eggnog almost hurt before he pushed out a slow breath. “Yeah, man. Go for it. She loves to dance.”

Eddie groaned. “That is not what you were supposed to say!”

The outburst drew your attention, even over Wham’s Last Christmas starting to boom over the speakers Jonathan had set up. Your brows furrowed as you looked at both of them before Steve waved you on and El grabbed at your hands again, pulling you back into the dance. “Shut up, man. Jesus.”

Eddie clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember what I told you in the Upside Down? She saw you about to jump into the lake and did it first because she didn’t want you hurt. She is it for you, Harrington. Just like you are it for her. Would you have let anyone else take you to the eye doctor?” Eddie didn’t wait for an answer and bulldozed right on. “Would you have listened to anyone else if they’d suggested community college to get out of this shitty town?” Eddie dropped his voice the slightest bit, a low drawl in his ear. “Would you look at anyone else like you’re looking at her right now?”

The party all knew. The older kids did, too. They all knew that Steve was probably in love with you.

Possibly.

Definitely.

At least they were encouraging, in their strange, sometimes mean way.

He watched you jump and laugh with Lucas and Max as the song changed to Mellencamp’s version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” as Mike and Dustin pretended to score your dancing. It was zeroes across the board. But you still laughed and raised your hands over your head as you spun again, letting the scar that started on your back and bloomed above your chest truly be seen. Steve’s gut twisted at the sight of it. It wasn’t ugly. No part of you could ever be ugly. But the memory it brought was still fresh. You’d stayed with Lucas, Erica, and Max as the Creel House while the others went back into the Upside Down to kill Vecna. The plan had gone…about as well as any of the other plans regarding the Upside Down had gone (not well). But when Steve and Dustin were dragging a barely conscious Eddie back through the gate, you had been fending of Jason and scream-singing Kate Bush to Max after her Walkman was destroyed. It had worked—Max woke up after breaking one of her knees and an arm, but she was awake. You’d earned a bullet to your back from Jason Carver who thought you were part of the “Satanic cult” he was sure was residing in Hawkins. But you had survived. Jason was blamed for the murders after you spun quite the tale from your hospital bed. His insistence that there was something supernatural at play definitely didn’t help him, but the town was saved from a trial and Eddie was cleared, walking out of the hospital a free man. Vecna was killed from the inside out by El, aided by Nancy’s sharp shooting. It was over.

And Steve would never forget watching Lucas and Erica drag you out of the house and into the camper, covered in blood and near delirious.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. Okay? You gotta stay with me.”

He had nearly lost you.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued, taking Steve’s silence for an answer. “That’s what I thought.” He clapped him on the shoulder with a long sigh. “Just give it a shot, Harrington. It’s the holidays. We’re at a wedding. Everything about this screams romance.” Before he could say anything else, Eddie was called away by Will and Erica, waving him over to a table across the room.

The song finished and you gave a clumsy curtsey to the “judges” as Max booed the final results. You pressed the back of your hands to your cheeks, trying to cool yourself down as you turned away, your eyes immediately finding Steve. A smile bloomed across your face and Steve’s poor heart shot up to his throat. He took a giant gulp of his eggnog and nearly choked on it immediately. As luck would have it, you were at his side as he started to cough and patted his back with a soft laugh. “Had too much already?”

Steve wiped at his mouth with a wince but felt himself relax as you reached out to right his gold-rimmed glasses again. “Thank you.”

You hummed and leaned against him with another smile. “I’m really happy for them,” you said, looking as Hopper led Joyce out onto the dance floor.

Dean Martin was starting to croon about his love keeping him warm and Eddie’s words (along with Robin’s) were suddenly echoing in his head. “Wanna dance?”

And you beamed. “I’d love that.” You tangled your hands together and let Steve lead you out onto the floor after he dropped his glass onto the nearest table. Steve twirled you around twice, just to hear you laugh, and you hopefully missed how both Joyce and Hopper gave him a thumbs up when they spotted him. You spoke with him easily, telling him about your classes and professors, and Steve reciprocated with stories about his first few classes at Hawkins Community College between shifts at Family Video. You both commiserated over trying to avoid your parents for most of the holiday and he made you laugh when he suggested cracking open a gate as a “distraction.”

“I’ve missed that sound,” Steve murmured, hoping you didn’t notice how his hand was starting to sweat as he held yours.

“My laugh?” You looked at him, Christmas lights reflecting in your pretty eyes. “You hear it at least twice every week when I call.”

And Steve treasured those calls. Made sure his shifts and classes lined up so he could always be near the phone when you rang. “But it sounds better in person.”

You shook your head with another smile. “What am I going to do with you, Steve Harrington?”

“Keep me forever?” Steve winced. Stupid. So stupid.

“You’re stuck with me forever, Steve. Hate to break it to you.” And you said it with such simple honesty, making it sound like of course you would always be in his life, that Steve had to stop himself from pulling you closer, from wrapping his arms around you tight and spilling his ridiculous feelings in a jumble of words that would never make sense.

Instead, he just smiled and shook his head. “What a burden.”

“Aren’t I just the worst? How do you put up with me?” You teased, adding a wink.

“I dunno, you might have a few redeeming qualities.”

“Oh?” You hummed. He twirled you around again just to hear you giggle, your smile infectious as he pulled you close. “And what might those be?”

This was it. This was an opening. And, judging by the way Nancy and Robin were frantically pointing at the mistletoe you’d just stepped beneath, this was the moment. Right? “Well, you’re stubborn. Like, the most stubborn person I know.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a list of my good qualities.” You snickered and earned a quick poke to your side because he knew you’d jump and squeal.

“And being stubborn,” Steve continued, ignoring you, “means you are one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. Loyal and stubborn to the point of getting yourself hurt. And you are kind, one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” Your steps started to slow as you listened to Steve, eyes shining. “And you’re so smart. I could have never been able to come up with a story like the one you gave the cops to keep Eddie out of jail—especially not if I was high on, like, six different pain killers.” He pulled you a little closer as he pushed on, even as other couples danced around you. Steve took both your hands in his and curled them close to his chest, hoping you wouldn’t feel how hard his heart was pounding beneath his ribs. “Just, you know, overall, you are a good person. You give good hugs and you’re so patient with the kids, with me. And I’m pretty sure your smile could light up a damn Christmas tree.”

You sniffled, blinking rapidly to stop the tears Steve saw starting to line your lashes and you laughed, again. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.” Your fingers drummed against his scarlet silk tie as your mouth twisted to the side, a sign Steve knew meant you were trying not to cry. “We’d be here for ages if I listed off all the good things about you, you know.”

Glancing up, you spotted the mistletoe, too. “How many times have we been caught beneath mistletoe? Five?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Something like that.” Slowly, hands steadier than his heart, his fingers smoothed down your arms and up to cradle your head in his grasp. He could do it. He could smell the peppermint on your breath. He could see the bits of glitter Nancy had dabbed on your cheeks. You were so beautiful. He whispered your name and-

Jonathan shouted your name and you all but leapt out of Steve’s grasp with an embarrassed huff. You both turned and saw Jonathan frantically trying to mop up spilled red wine that had started to pool near the dessert table. You were quick to dart away, grabbing a handful of napkins to help. And Steve could just stand there, wondering what he must have done in a past life to have this happen. Five times.

Jonathan caught his eye over your shoulder and mouthed ‘sorry’ but the look Nancy was giving the other man let Steve know that she was more than ready to throttle him.

It had been years since the last time Steve caught you beneath the mistletoe. He’d given up hope on ever doing it again, on ever kissing you

at all

. The kids had all but given up, too. Their teasing slowly dying because… “It isn’t fun anymore,” Max said through a mouthful of popcorn. “Now, it’s just pathetic.”

He wasn’t ever taking her to the movies again. (He knew this was a lie.)

But as the years trickled by, you had remained a presence in his life. You arrived on his doorstep one day and all but shoved him into your car, saying you’d called off work for him for a week, and that you were kidnapping him for spring break. You had screamed and clapped and cried together as you watched ‘your’ kids cross the stage for their high school graduation. He sat next to Joyce and Jonathan and Will and watched you graduate from university, too, and didn’t mind waiting his turn to murmur his congratulations into your ear as he held you close.

You’d attended his graduation, too, two years later. After getting everything he could at Hawkins Community, he transferred to a bigger university to finish his degree just outside Chicago. You had hollered like a soccer mom when they announced his name and Steve had nearly tripped when you broke out an air-horn in celebration.

His parents hadn’t attended. But that didn’t matter because you did—and Robin and the kids were right beside you, being equally obnoxious. He’d found his path. It took him a few hits to the head and a weird, zig-zagging track, but he’d settled on elementary education. If he could handle the snark and the vibrating chaos that was the group of his favorite people, he could handle kids. Being a kindergarten teacher wasn’t flashy or well-paid but Steve liked it. He liked what he did. He liked helping kids learn the alphabet and spell their names and count to ten. And he was good at it. Within the first two years of settling into his new career at a school in the suburbs of Chicago, he’d been named teacher of the year out of the entire district.

The kids had found the newspaper clipping and had framed it for him for his birthday. (He cried.)

You had settled into a routine, too. Your book, a not-at-all autobiographical science fiction horror story about monsters from another dimension and a group of tenacious kids, had become an international bestseller and you, despite living in New York, swung by his house with a bottle champagne to celebrate. The book had earned you a seven-book deal with a huge publisher and an “insane” royalties cut. “I want Will to illustrate all of them,” you had said, lounging on Steve’s couch. “I think that’s what made this one a best-seller, you know. He’s so talented, my baby Will.”

Every year, everyone got together for a weekend around the holidays. It had become a tradition by accident but everyone had come to expect it to happen and there was usually a bit of bickering about who got to host. It was Steve’s turn this year and with every ornament he hung on his tree, hope returned. By the time he was putting the little star at the top, Steve swore that this year—this year, really, he meant it this time—would be the year he finally made a move. He wouldn’t get interrupted. He would tell you how he felt and maybe (hopefully) be able to kiss you under the mistletoe.

Dustin arrived first, fresh off (another) breakup with Suzie and ranting about his physics final at MIT, he froze like a deer in headlights when he saw all of the decorations. There was the tree, of course, and then stockings for each of them on the mantle. There were fake candles flickering in each of the windows and Steve had strung up plastic snowflakes around each of the overhead lights. “Jesus Christ, it looks like Christmas threw up in here.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” Steve hissed. “This didn’t take me hours at all.”

The younger man waved his hands. “I didn’t say it was bad! It’s just… Did your students make these ornaments?” He poked at one of the messily but earnestly made reindeer on the tree’s nearest branch.

Steve swiftly smacked at Dustin’s fingers, earning a smack on his arm in return. “Don’t touch them! They worked hard!” His students had each made an extra ornament for him during craft time and had bashfully given him the gift before winter break had started, having heard Steve talk about his friends coming into town for the holiday.

“They’re cute!”

The door burst open and Max and Lucas shoved their way in, swinging their bags around as they argued about the practicality of the Home Alone booby traps. “Watch the tree!” Steve hollered as Max’s bag nearly took out his lamp.

Ignoring him, Max turned, dropping her duffle at her feet. “You’ve been hit in the head enough, right? You think a paint can would knock you out?”

“Of course it would knock Steve out!” Lucas argued.

“Thank you for that, Sinclair. And, just for that, you’re sleeping on the couch! El can share with Max.”

By the time the Wheelers and the Byers-Hoppers show up, pizza had been ordered and the house was filled with good-natured (mostly) arguing while Gremlins played in the background. The sound of car doors slamming had Steve’s head snapping to the side so fast Lucas laughed at him until Nancy threw a pillow in his direction.

“Calm down, man. She’s here for the whole weekend.”

The door opened again and Eddie led the charge inside, Robin quickly following, with you picking up the rear. All three of you were arguing over if it was hygienic or not to string popcorn as garland for the tree. Steve managed to greet all of you between your squabble, wrapping each of you in a hug, and herding you toward the living room. But, just as you were about to cross the threshold, you hung back and grasped at his wrist with a familiar smile. Without a word, you pulled him close and hugged him again.

“It is so good to see you, Steve.”

His poor heart felt like it was trying to leap out from between his ribs and nestle in your hands.

As the night wore on and Gremlins turned into Home Alone which turned into Black Christmas, the pizza was eventually demolished, as was the gingerbread. The younger kids eventually turned in, tired from the trip and bellies full. His house was big enough to accommodate everyone, but sleeping bags were still needed and straws were drawn as to who had to sleep on the floor for the night. It was ridiculous and only started more fights and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve took a seat beside Jonathan as they all nursed the last dregs of the Hot Toddies Nancy had made for the older crowd. Eddie was finishing up his story about opening for Metallica—“you should come, guys! I’ll get you tickets!”—as Robin, you, and Nancy all disappeared upstairs to get into your pajamas. As soon as they heard the door click shut, both Eddie and Jonathan rounded on Steve. “What is your game plan?”

“What?”

“You have to do it. C’mon, man. This is the year. I can’t take another Christmas of her sighing wistfully and you looking like a kicked puppy. I can’t do it.” Eddie always had a flare for the dramatic. The years hadn’t dulled his edge.

“She was talking about this trip nonstop the last time she called,” Jonathan added. “And Eddie said she asked-”

“Three times!” Eddie hissed.

“-if you had a girlfriend on the way over from the airport.”

And while that had been encouraging, Nancy and Robin had cornered him, too, while you were distracted by Jonathan and Eddie, talking about possibly going taking everyone ice skating tomorrow (it was a disaster waiting to happen and all of you knew it). You caught Steve looking and smiled, bright and beautiful.

Robin snapped her fingers, grabbing Steve’s attention. “Listen, Dingus, I am going to break out the dry erase board again if you don’t kiss her by the end of this weekend. With how much you’ve been staring at her mouth, I wouldn’t be surprised you already know what chapstick she’s wearing.”

“It’s cherry, today.”

Nancy smacked his arm, fighting a smile. “You are hopeless. Both of you. Please just tell her how you feel. We can distract the kids for a few hours tomorrow and you need to just tell her, god dammit.”

Comforting.

Steve thought about what his friends had said, turning their words over and over in his head, wishing for sleep and a good plan on how to tell you how he felt. But, hours later, he gave up on both and quietly stepped out of his room, trying not to wake Eddie and Dustin, and walked down toward his kitchen in hopes of getting a glass of water. And there you were, swinging your legs as you sat on the counter, humming along to Dolly Parton singing about hard candies at Christmas on the radio. The slowly blinking lights of the Christmas tree washed you in green then red then green again, making you glow.

“Hey,” Steve whispered.

Your head whipped to the side and you let out a soft laugh as you pressed a hand over your heart before hopping down. “Sorry, you scared me a bit.”

He waved off your unnecessary apology and cracked open the fridge to grab two bottles of cider before handing you one. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shook your head as you twisted the cap off and took a small sip. “Yeah. Robin kicks in her sleep, you know.”

Steve laughed and took a drink, too. “I do know.” As always, the conversation was easy, speaking about anything and everything, and Steve was happy to hear you ramble about your ideas for your next books even though he was still learning the difference between an Orc and a Lich but he knew you’d be patient with him.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmured, reaching out to him as soon as Judy Garland started singing, wishing everyone a Merry Little Christmas. “I know we talk every week but I just miss…” your words trailed off as your hands curled around his arms. “I just miss you.”

Steve moved just enough to wrap his arms around you, resting his cheek against yours. “I missed you, too.” Then, knowing you’d laugh, he started swaying you side to side in time with the song and earned his promised laugh within a few moments and made him smile into your hair.

The winter winds were whistling outside with the promise of snow and you snuggled a little closer, nose digging into Steve’s chest but he didn’t mind. This felt right. This felt…perfect. He wanted this, quiet, perfect moments like this with you forever. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

“So, I’m looking at houses in Chicago,” you murmured into the soft fabric of his red and white sleep shirt. “My publisher says I don’t have to live in New York if I don’t want to.”

If you heard how his heart sped up, you thankfully didn’t mention it. “Chicago, huh? You’d just be a quick train ride away from me.” And he could feel your smile as it pressed over his heart.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that. Eddie’s got his thing going on in LA, Robin’s finishing up her PhD at Northwestern, and Nancy and Jonathan live out of their suitcases mostly because of their jobs so they can be anywhere. The kids are scattered, but…but, yeah, I’m thinking Chicago.”

“Well,” Steve started, attempting to keep his voice steady, “I think that’s the best present you could give me.”

You laughed against his chest again and wriggled out of his grip for a moment before grabbing at something on the counter. You pressed it over his heart and he tried not to hope at the sight of your nervous smile. “I actually got you a little something. I know it isn’t quite Christmas yet but…I didn’t want to wait.”

The small package was wrapped in crinkled white paper, patterned with gold snowflakes. You’d carefully wrapped a bit of silver string around it, too. Steve was careful to unwrap it as you kept your arms looped around his waist. He could feel your thumbs brushing nervous circles into his spine. When he finally saw what was inside, his heart leapt and skipped and sang.

Wrapped in a tiny bit of white twine, was a single sprig of mistletoe.

“I was…hoping that sixth time might be our charm.” Your voice was low and soft. Almost shy.

Feeling like the luckiest man on the planet, he held the mistletoe over your head and finally, finally, finally kissed you. You were worth the wait.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #female reader

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persphonesorchid · 3 months

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Mark Of The Arcane || Chapter Four ||

↣ Summary; Centuries before, in the times of the ancient Kings, a prophecy was heard. When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruins, their saviour would come in blinding starlight. Who is this saviour, you may ask? None other than Min Yoongi, who was too busy being late to work to realize he definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

↣ Part: Chapter Four; Lessons in History

↣Word count: 6.8k

↣Warnings: Yoongi and his anxiety, Seokjin is a little prickly.

Chapter Archive | Masterlist

Notes: Hello all! Welcome back to MOTA! I'm so sorry about the wait, writing this fic is a lot lol. There's so much to describe and so much to get done. From here on out the chapters will be much longer than the previous ones, as I don't want the series to drag out too much and it's not meant to be a long series anyway. So I'll try my best to get as much into a chapter before moving on. Things are s little slow right now, but i promise the exciting stuff will start soon! I really hope you all enjoy! Feedback is very much appreciated and encouraged! Let me know what you think!

Yoongi follows behind Seokjin, gazing around at the difference of the hallway as he does. Earlier, the opposite side of the wall mirrored the side he came out of; a line of mahogany doors as far as he could see.

Now where the doors were, are windows in intervals. Tall arched panes of glass stained blue at the tops, and through them he could just make out the edge of a town far away and below. It’s mostly forest he could see, the tops of tall green trees and birds with strange long tails darting about to settle as the sun drags the moon into the sky.

The walls are greystone, and within the spaces between each window held a navy blue banner that comes halfway down the wall. The crest at the center is intricate; a mix of a lighter blue and gold, a golden sword spears downward into a crown near the hilt of the blade. Just below the crown is what Yoongi would describe as a fancy snowflake, surrounded by little wisps of small golden patterns, and wings sprouting at the sword's end. It’s all surrounded by blue and golden leaves that follow the upward arch of the wings.

It’s an enlarged version of the crested clasp of his cloak.

He hadn’t realized he stopped to stare at it until Seokjin whistled at him from further up the hallway. He jogs a little to meet him.

“They’re designed to confuse.” Seokjin says as Yoongi falls in step with him.

“Huh?”

“The hallway was different when you first came out, right?” Seokjin glances at him and then waves a hand at the wall. “They’re imbued with magic. A precaution His Majesty took years ago in case of a siege from outside forces. You’re not a threat, so it looks as normal as it does to everyone else.”

Yoongi isn’t sure if that’s an insult or not, being called non threatening. To Seokjin though, he’s certain he looks like a newborn foal trying to take his first steps into a world he doesn’t understand. So, he supposes it’s not an incorrect word choice.

Seokjin leads him through a door, and down another hallway. Unlike the hallway before, this one was teeming with people.

It’s mostly women, bustling around, some carrying what Yoongi assumes to be cleaning supplies, others pushing little carts with silver trays and platters. Most of them barely pay him mind, but stop briefly to incline their heads at Seokjin. They’re all wearing white and something blue: one girl that looked like she should be sitting in a classroom wizzes by, a navy blue ribbon tied into her frizzy hair; another with a blue armband calling after her.

The chatter of that hallway fades once it’s behind another closed door, and Yoongi follows Seokjin down a flight of spiral stairs.

“I’m taking you to Hoseok, do try to remember the way. I won’t be around to show you every time.” Seokjin’s words are a little clipped and Yoongi gets the feeling he doesn’t like him very much. He doesn’t want to be here anyway, much less be up in anyone’s hair causing issues.

He’s not too certain what Seokjin is, and finds himself staring at his ears rather than actually memorizing directions. He asked if he was an elf and he was offended, he’s not sure what else he’s supposed to think.

Seokjin stops at a door and knocks twice before pushing it open. The first thing Yoongi notices is how clean it smells. It burns his nose a little as he walks in, looking around at what clearly is a medical room.

There’s two shelves against the wall, one filled with thick tomes, and the other stacked with bottled things. Off to the left is a curtained area, and on the wall, charts of anatomy and other things that Yoongi couldn’t make sense of.

There’s another door on the far right of the room, closed with a little plaque that says ‘Private’ in small bold letters. Tucked near the wall is a desk, more books arranged neatly in a pile, papers under a bottle of something or the other to keep them there.

The door opens and Hoseok steps through it, still wearing his white coat and startled seeing Yoongi and Seokjin there.

“Oh – you guys scared me.” He presses a hand to his chest, “Jin, you haven’t seen Yoselin, have you? I’m afraid I may have upset her...”

“She’s still trying to get you to mentor her?”

Hoseok sighs, “She doesn’t have the affinity for it, but she’s stubborn. And with her sister being one of my students it’s made her feel left out.”

“She’ll come to... I’ve brought him for you.” He gestures to Yoongi, and turns on his heel to leave, “Oh, show him the way back please, I’ve got other things to get done before late.”

Hoseok waves him off with a hand and then he was gone.

“You don’t look so out of place anymore,” Hoseok smiles, “Take your cloak off and then you can get settled over there for me.”

Yoongi does as he’s told and takes his cloak off, shuffling over to the curtained area. He pulls the curtain back and there’s a bed that resembles a hospital bed where he came from. There’s hinges on the sides that make it so that the bed can be adjusted, and Yoongi sits on the end of it while Hoseok gathers some things from his desk.

He comes over not long after, holding a strange glass ball that glows a pale green. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright...” Yoongi mutters and Hoseok hums.

“Headache?”

“Gone.” Though, even as he says this, Yoongi could feel it at his temples, just not bad enough to be a bother.

“Stay very still.” Hoseok says, lifting his hand with the glass ball to Yoongi’s forehead, checks something, and then presses it against his chest. There’s a warm sort of feeling coming from it that he could feel even through his shirt. “Okay...”

Hoseok moves away briefly, walking back to his desk and sets the ball down. Yoongi watches in amazement as it floats a little above the surface of the table top. “Uh...what is that exactly?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s an essence meter. It measures your arcane magic intake levels.” He comes back over with a book, it’s thick and has little colorful page markers sticking out of the pages. “So far, you’re stable. But it can fluctuate as your body gets used to it, so if you feel sick you need to tell me.”

Yoongi nods, rubbing his hands along his thighs. He’s still so confused about everything, but he’s trying his best to take it as it comes and not dwell on it too much. Hoseok settles on a chair, sitting a little lower than Yoongi is, opening the book to a page and pulls a black feather quill out of an inside pocket of his coat.

“I’m going to ask you a few things, just procedure, don’t worry. Then you’re free to go.”

Hoseok asks him basic medical questions, and jots it all down in his book. It didn't take too long, and soon he was handing him a glass vial no longer than his index finger. The little things inside tink softly against the glass, they look like dried pieces of root, a reddish brown color.

“If you get any more headaches, you can put one of these in hot water. It’s what I gave you earlier.”

Yoongi grimaces at the memory, a phantom bitterness at the back of his throat. He nods, tucking the vial away into the pocket of his pants.

“Try to get as much rest as possible, too. Your body has to regulate your magic intake. You can come back every three days so I can see how it’s going.”

Hoseok ushers him to the door, patting his shoulder softly, “Oh, and don’t worry about Seokjin. He’ll warm up to you.” He opens the door and Yoongi almost walks right into another person.

The young man takes a stumbling step back as though Yoongi had bumped into him, and he almost reaches out to steady him. He does so himself, pressing a hand against the door frame and side steps so Yoongi could pass.

He looks a little sickly, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days, and his cheeks blotchy. He offers Yoongi a kind smile regardless.

“Ah, Taehyung...I was just coming to get you. You don’t have to walk all the way here, you know.” Hoseok says, and as Yoongi steps out, Taehyung steps into the room and the door falls shut.

Yoongi thinks he could manage getting himself back to his room. He refastens the clasp of his cloak and retraces his steps. Back up the spiral staircase and into the hallway, luckily finding the right door, to the hallway filled with people still bustling around, Yoongi can only assume that they’re the servants of this place. As much as that thought throws him for a loop, these people look happy as they move about doing their tasks.

While no one had spared him a glance when he walked through here earlier with Seokjin, everyone he passes by pauses minutely to stare. He keeps his head down and tries his best to make it through without being in anyone’s way.

Night had fully fallen, and the scones embedded into the walls had been lit, casting a warm glow along every surface.

“Your Highness, please. The King will have me hanging by my toes in the courtyard.” A short, plump woman steps out of a door, and Yoongi stops just before he could run into her. Her hair is dark, held tightly at the top of her head in the neatest bun Yoongi’s ever seen. There’s a small towel slung over her shoulder, another hanging from the pocket of her navy blue apron.

You’re trailing behind her, both your hands on her shoulders and a bright, broad smile on your face. You step with her, clinging to her back like a baby monkey.

“He’ll do no such thing.” You laugh, and you press a kiss to her rosy cheek, “Please, Esther. If you do this for me, I’ll love you forever.”

Esther swats at you with her towel, pursing her lips. “You say that every time you little Lumispore.” She says shaking her head before sighing resolutely when you bat your eyelashes at her, “Alright, alright. Now, go on, some of us have work to do.”

“Thank you! I’m forever in your debt, my lady.” You tug at the skirts of your silk dress and curtsy, laughing as you pull back when Esther swings her towel at you again.

Esther turns and Yoongi steps aside, but her dark eyes are pinned on him and she tuts, “You’re the new lad? Goodness, you're skin and bones!”

She squeezes gently at Yoongi’s arms and he feels heat rise to his cheeks, “I’ll tell Wooyoung to make sure you get hearty meals... put some meat on you.” She shakes her head, and pats his cheek softly, “Don’t worry child, you’re in good hands.”

She smiles, a twinkle in her eyes before she’s going up the hall, “Rina, you know very well where those go!”

“Sorry about her, she’s a mother hen.” You say softly, smiling, “I hope she didn’t offend you?”

“Oh, no. No, she’s fine.” He’ll probably admit it out loud later, but it’s nice to have someone worry about him. She reminds him of Mrs Li, waddling off and chatting with the younger servants.

“Did you visit Hoseok?” You’re walking in the direction he’s heading and Yoongi’s not sure if it’s okay to walk in step with you, so he walks a couple behind, but still close enough to hear you. “How is your magic intake?”

“Hoseok says that it’s stable for now...” He watches as you wave off everyone that stops to bow or curtsy. You’re quite quick on your feet, and Yoongi’s somewhat glad to see that you’re wearing shoes this time. Even with the amount of people walking about, he could feel a cold draft coming through the slightly cracked windows.

“That’s good, an overflow of magic can be dangerous.” You nod to yourself, reaching the door at the beginning of the hallway and pushing it open with a hand.

“Do you know a lot about it?”

“Magic? Or, do you mean healing?” You chuckle, holding the door open until he steps through. “Healing was part of my studies. As for magic, everyone knows a lot about it.” You shrug a shoulder, and then look behind you.

“Oh, you don’t have to walk so far behind me.” You stop walking and wait until Yoongi steps where you’ve stopped before you fall into step with him. “I’m not that kind of royal.”

“Sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, don’t apologize.”

Yoongi’s back to thinking that maybe he really did get drugged and stepped into some sort of weird lucid dream. He’s never paid much mind to fairytales, or Princesses for that matter, but you’re surely acting like one. Though, he’s read stories where royals are absolute assholes, and he supposes he may have expected a bit of that. A holier than thou attitude.

Back where he comes from, he’s sure you’re the type of princess that ends up in a Disney movie; beautiful and empowering and encouraging young girls to be kind.

“Hobi said where you came from doesn’t have magic.” You say softly, turning your head to look at him, “What’s it like?”

“Well...” Yoongi wouldn’t say there isn’t any magic where he came from. People find magic in all sorts of things, like first snows or four leaf clovers. People find magic in other people, children find magic in Christmas. But this place is different, magic in a literal sense, and if he thinks about it too much he’ll have another headache. “It’s nothing like this.”

“Must be strange...being here, I mean.”

“You have no idea.”

You’ve led him back to the hallway where his room is, quiet for a moment. “Oh! Right. You’ll need to learn how to properly control your arcane and be able to use it.”

“Um...” Yoongi feels a dull twinge of pain where his arcane sits. He has no idea how he’ll start to understand how to do that.

“Don’t look so frightened.” You chuckle softly, “I’ll be teaching you. And we won’t start right away, your magic intake would be a little weird for a while so it’s safer for everyone that we don’t attempt anything.”

Yoongi only nods, standing now, a little awkwardly.

“Are you hungry? I can have dinner brought to you.” You ask softly. He isn’t , but he doesn’t want to be rude by declining.

“I’d invite you to the dining hall but I think that would be too much for you right now.” You say, “And my father is a bit...” You shake your head, smiling again, although it seems a bit tense, “Go in, I’ll be right back.”

You step past him, going down a different hall than the one you’d both come from and Yoongi steps back into his room. He takes his cloak off, hanging the thick material on a hook near the door with a sigh. His eyes land on the book he left on the nightstand, walking over to sit on the bed.

He’d have to resign himself to not getting home any time soon. It’s better if he accepts it and moves forward as nothing could be done at the moment. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, suddenly thrust into this world with a prophecy over his head. It’s almost too much.

Yoongi is accustomed to just billowing through life, trying to move with the world lest it move on without him. It was easy, growing up in an orphanage and struggling to get by with the little he had. He’s never blamed his parents – whoever they are – for giving him up, he was fine without a mother’s comfort and a father’s guidance. He didn’t have anyone to make proud or anyone’s shoes to fill. It makes sense now, somewhat.

He feels like a kid who’s dressed in his father’s clothes pretending to be a man. Like someone put a pair of shoes at his feet and told him to wear them even if they’re too big for him. The weight of this world feels heavy on his shoulders, as though he’s an ant trying to lift a building.

How is he supposed to go along and be this savior everyone expects him to be? He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be saving them from. Some form of darkness that hasn’t been seen in centuries?

Being sent here would be no problem without all this extra shit on top of it.

Yoongi presses his fingers against the spot on his ribs where his arcane mark sits. He’s never complained about his life being ordinary, completely okay with nothing exciting happening. So of course this happens.

He’s thinking too much.

Just as he lays back into the soft linen sheets, there’s a knock on his door. It opens just a bit and your head pops through the gap. Yoongi sits back up as you open the door wider and wheeled in a silver cart before you.

“Hoseok said it’s okay for you to eat something heavier now.” You say, pushing the door closed, “I didn’t know what you’d like so I brought a bit of everything.”

You push the cart over, there’s two covered silver trays and two tall glasses filled with what Yoongi hopes is just water.

You uncover the first tray and there’s a plate of steamed potatoes, braised beef and sautéed carrots and what he would call broccoli if the little tree type things weren’t purple. There’s a little bowl with a fluffy looking pastry with a dollop of pinkish cream in the dipped center, another bowl with short grain rice garnished with something red and flaky and a smaller plate with two filets of fried fish.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ate with you?” You ask, uncovering the other tray that had a spread that mirrors his own.

“I don’t...”

You smile, reaching down to the other compartment of the cart, handing him utensils wrapped in soft blue cloth. You move away for a bit, and stare at the table tucked against the wall in the corner of the room with a hand on your hip and then back at the cart. Catching your train of thought, Yoongi gets up and pushes the cart over.

“Oh! I would’ve done it.”

“It’s alright.” He could push a cart, darn it. He feels like he’s being coddled, by a Princess no less. He doesn’t need to feel like he can’t do anything on top of everything else. He sets the plates, bowls and glasses of water on the table and then moves the cart out of the way before going back across the room to grab the other chair that Hoseok had left near his bedside.

He waits until you’re sitting to do the same, but isn’t sure which side of his food to start from. He picks up the bowl of rice and starts there, the red flakes are spicy.

“Was the book any interesting?” You’re eating the pastry first, scooping out the cream at the center with a small spoon. You motion at the book on his nightstand with a tilt of your head.

The fish is well seasoned and quite distracting, and Yoongi nods, “It didn’t tell me much about anything really...just why my...arcane was created...”

You hum softly, “Well, records on your arcane have been lost for centuries, there isn’t much to know about it unfortunately.” You finish off the pastry, “And there isn’t anyone that could teach you how to properly use it, with it being a pure arcane.”

“Pure arcane?”

“There are no subfields.” You say, and when Yoongi gives you a confused tilt of his head you catch yourself. “Ah. Well...before everything was The Firsts. We’re not entirely sure where they originated from, but they were the first arcane users. Their arcanes were the elements, my ancestor Incra, was the first wind arcane user. While the other elements broke off into subfields, there are rare arcanes that only occur once.

My arcane is hereditary, it's never been bestowed to anyone outside the royal bloodline. Which in itself makes it pure, though, it’s easy for me since everything I need to know about it was recorded.”

“So...how am I supposed to learn how to use it?” Yoongi worries at his bottom lip with his teeth, food forgotten.

“Esther wields a fire arcane, it’s somewhat similar to yours even with how different they are. She’ll be helping me.”

“Right...”

He’s halfway through his steamed potatoes, and you eat quietly across from him. He pokes at the beef with his fork, setting aside the purple broccoli with a little frown. Who knows what that would do.

He supposes he’ll have to get used to this rich food. Not that he hasn’t had something of the like before, it’s just working as a barista isn’t all that freeing; splurging on fancy things like beef was a rare occurrence. That, and most of the money he had to spare went into his savings.

“Y/n...?” Yoongi calls with uncertainty, even though you told him to address you by name. You look up from your plate, humming in question, a brow raised slightly. “Can you tell me anything more about the prophecy?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m sorry. There’s only one record of it and not a lot of people have seen it. Some people don’t even know there is a prophecy.” You chuckle a bit and then grow somber, eyes looking a little sad, “I know this must be hard for you... You’ve been taken away from your life and suddenly everything’s being thrown at you.”

“It’s...” Yoongi sighs, leaning back into the chair, “I’ll manage.”

You stare at him for a moment more, clearly wanting to say something else before you shake your head. “You should eat that,” you point at his untouched pastry with the end of your fork, and Yoongi’s grateful for the change of subject. “It’s amazing. The cream is made from eclipse berries and Duiox milk.”

“What milk?” Yoongi eyes the pastry like it would grow a head and start doing the tango.

“Duiox...it’s like a cow...but they have tusks...you don’t have those?”

After dinner, you say goodbye at the door, pushing the cart back outside his room. You seem a little reluctant to leave as you step outside, fiddling with the silk sleeves of your dress.

“How about a tour tomorrow? If you’re feeling well enough?” You ask, settling the cart against the wall, but your hands never leave the handle.

“That’d be nice.” Yoongi offers a smile. That’d be great actually, it’d be better for him to learn his way around this place if he’s going to be staying.

“Great! I’ll come fetch you after breakfast.” And with that you’re gone, pushing the cart up the hallway and Yoongi watches you leave.

The morning greets Yoongi with a whistled song, a beam of sunlight lighting a stripe along the marble floor. He groans softly as he wakes, a headache thrumming at his temples and behind his eyes when he opens them to squint.

There’s a strange looking bird on the windowsill, hopping along it, chirping softly. The rising sun sets its plumes ablaze in emerald and a sheen of pink, and Yoongi watches as it ruffles its feathers and flies off.

There’s a knock at his door that disturbs the quiet and sends the headache bouncing in his head. He doesn’t think it’s you, as you would poke your head in after waiting a moment. The knock comes again and Yoongi’s forced to get up, shuffling towards the door.

There’s a young servant girl behind it, her eyes wide and blue when he opens the door. She’s brought him breakfast, hidden under silver trays and tells him to simply leave the cart outside when he’s done.

He pulls the cart into his room, finding a breakfast of porridge, toasted bread, scrambled eggs and sliced fruit.

Under the second tray is a porcelain tea set, a small holder with cubes of sugar and another with milk. There’s little mesh bags that smell like spices, which he leaves reluctantly, instead, dropping one of the roots that Hoseok had given him into the teacup. He pours the water over it and watches the steam rise from the cup, giving it time to draw as he eats.

He chews on the crust of a toast slice, watching the water turn auburn. He drinks it quickly, and tries to ignore the bitterness of it.

When he’d finished his breakfast, he left the cart outside as he was told. Before he’d gone to bed last night, a few maid servants brought him clothes that they’d tucked into the wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room, and showed him where the bathroom was. Embarrassingly, the door was hiding behind white drapes he thought were just there for some sort of decoration.

The clothes he received were mostly black and white, and they all incorporated navy blue somehow. He’s guessed by now that’s just the colour scheme of this place. He pulls out a neatly folded black long sleeve tunic, the strings that hold the v-cut of the collar closed the same navy blue as the glittering trimmings of the hem, and black cotton pants that he’ll have to fold at the ankles.

There’s a couple of soft towels folded and tucked into the bottom corner of the wardrobe, and he hugs everything to his chest and makes his way to the bathroom.

The bathroom is large, shelves jutting out of the wall beside a mirror filled with an assortment of bath oils and scented candles. The white marble of the floor shimmers with golden swirls, and the sunken bathtub in the middle of the room is big enough to fit four people standing five feet apart.

The silver faucet at the foot of the tub hums before it spits water when he turns the knob, steam rising and curling into the air. He sets his clothes and towel down, standing before the shelf to pick two of the oils he thinks smells the best.

There’s one that smells strangely of apricot and cinnamon, and one of mint leaves and a label that promises to soothe aches and pains. He pours a bit of each into the water and sinks into it with a sigh.

And Yoongi stays there until the light of the sun seems a bit brighter, no longer hiding behind trees and early morning mist. The sounds that float from outside through the cracked window aren’t half as mindful, as everyone is starting to wake up and go about their day. It’s different to the sounds he’s used to: honking cars and the buzz of traffic, people yelling, his neighbour’s stomping steps in the apartment above him. It’s quieter, the world wakes gently; he likes the change.

He feels different today, the jitter of his nerves had calmed some since last night, the headache he woke with was all but a memory that would be back later, he’s sure. He thinks that at some point between last night and waking, he’s accepted what his life is to be now. The weight of so many people’s lives apparently in his hands, the pressure that he’s certain would come with learning the workings of his arcane, the fact that he may never go back home. All of it.

He stays in the bath until his fingers are prunes and the water is cold, and his hair is a little short of damp; drying in a frizzy mess. He steps out of the tub, watching as the water magically drains away. He dries off and gets dressed, the clothes sticking to his damp skin where the swipe of the towel missed and steps out. He leaves the door open so that the air can flow through the room, filling his bed space with the scent of apricot and cinnamon.

When he's rolling his socks on and tucking the ends of his pants into the top of his boots, there’s a soft knock on his door. He expects the pause that comes after as much as he expected the door to open and you poking your head in.

You smile when you spot him, and Yoongi’s afraid that at some point, he’ll get too used to it. Your dress is silk and pale yellow today, a blue ribbon twisted into the braid of your hair.

“Good morning,” You greet at the door, not coming in and Yoongi wonders why, “Did you sleep well?”

There’s a murmur somewhere behind you that makes you look over your shoulder and roll your eyes, “Stop that.”

Yoongi stands, and at his approach you pull away from the gap in the door, and he finds Seokjin there too, leaning against the adjacent wall.

“If you’re going to be annoying you may as well find something else to do, Jin.” You say, turning to face Seokjin as Yoongi steps out of the room.

Seokjin points a finger to himself, looking offended, “Me? Annoying? I’m a joy to be around!”

“Yes. Whenever you’re not being like....whatever it is you’re being now.” You wave a hand at him, pursing your lips.

“It's my job to follow you around, Your Highness.” Seokjin retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “I can’t just leave you alone with a stranger.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say a little testily, and Yoongi eyes dart between you and Seokjin as you have a stare off. He suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be standing here listening, feeling awkward and not sure what to do with his hands.

“I’ll walk five steps behind.” Seokjin says, moving a little ways away and counting his steps for you to hear, much to your evident annoyance.

You sigh through your nose, shaking your head before you turn to Yoongi. “There’s a lot to see, come on.”

You lead him through different hallways, showing him different rooms and different things of cultural significance, and Yoongi tries his best to keep up with it all. Seokjin is still walking five steps behind, and every now and then he could feel the weight of his gaze.

The library within the palace is expansive, the grandeur of its size evident as you step into the room. Rows of towering bookshelves line the walls, their mahogany frames gleaming softly in the ambient light filtering through stained glass windows. Yoongi’s eyes widen as he takes in the vast collection of leather-bound tomes and ancient scrolls neatly arranged on polished wooden tables.

You gesture towards the rows of books, your voice carrying a note of reverence as you speak. “This is the heart of the palace’s knowledge, where centuries of history and wisdom are preserved.” As you lead Yoongi deeper into the library, you pause occasionally to point out notable works or elaborate on the significance of certain texts.

Yoongi’s expression shifts from curiosity to awe as he absorbs the wealth of information surrounding him. He finds himself immersed in the quiet serenity of the library, captivated by the timeless treasures it holds within its walls.

As you guide Yoongi further into the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink hangs in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of polished wood. Sunlight streams through ornate windows, casting ethereal patterns of light and shadow across the rows of shelves.

You pause beside a particularly ornate display case, its glass surface protecting delicate manuscripts and artifacts. “These are some of the rarest and most valuable pieces in our collection,” you explain, your voice hushed with reverence.

Yoongi leans in closer, his gaze drawn to the intricately illuminated manuscripts and ancient relics within the case. He reaches out tentatively, as if hesitant to disturb the timeless beauty before him.

As you continue the tour, weaving through the maze of bookshelves and alcoves, Yoongi’s fascination deepens with each passing moment. The weight of Seokjin’s silent presence fades into the background, overshadowed by the richness of knowledge and history contained within the library’s walls.

Together, you and Yoongi explore the depths of the library, delving into its vast archives and uncovering the secrets of centuries past. In this sanctuary of learning and discovery, time seems to stand still, allowing Yoongi to lose himself in the wonders of the written word.

Nestled within the heart of the library, concealed behind a discreet doorway veiled in shadow, lies a chamber of treasures known only to the royal family of Jax. This clandestine sanctum, accessible only to those of royal blood, houses a collection of artifacts and tomes that are as priceless as they are precious.

As the heavy door swings open on silent hinges, a soft glow spills forth, illuminating the room in a warm, golden light. Shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, laden with ancient scrolls, intricately bound tomes, and ornate artifacts of bygone eras. Each item within this sacred space holds a piece of the kingdom’s history, a testament to the valor, wisdom, and legacy of generations past.

Among the treasures housed within this chamber are artifacts of great significance, relics from battles long fought and victories hard won. Weapons forged of enchanted steel, their edges still sharp with the echoes of ancient conflicts, stand alongside intricately crafted jewelry adorned with precious gemstones, each piece a symbol of royal heritage and lineage.

Alongside the artifacts, shelves groan under the weight of countless tomes, their leather bindings weathered with age yet still bearing wisdom. These volumes contain the accumulated knowledge of scholars and sages, chronicling the history, culture, and arcane arts of the kingdom of Jax.

As Yoongi steps into this hallowed chamber, he is enveloped in a sense of reverence and awe, keenly aware of the weight of history that surrounds him. Each artifact and tome holds a story waiting to be discovered, a glimpse into the rich tapestry of the kingdom.

The air hums with an almost palpable energy, suffused with the residual magic of centuries gone by. Illuminated by soft, ethereal light that dances and flickers across the ancient stone walls, the room exudes an aura of mystique and wonder.

Upon shelves of polished oak and gilded metal, an array of artifacts sits neatly behind clear glass, each one imbued with its own unique enchantment. Robes of shimmering silk hang suspended in midair, their fabric rippling as if stirred by an unseen breeze, while ancient tomes bound in spell-woven leather beckon with promises of forbidden knowledge.

Glowing crystals pulsate with otherworldly radiance, casting prismatic hues across the room, while ornate staffs and wands stand sentinel, their intricate carvings whispering secrets of arcane power.

“Some arcane users use magic embedded weapons to channel their power.” Seokjin says from the doorway, keeping his word to stay at a distance. He doesn’t disturb your rambling, stepping closer to Yoongi as you move further away, not noticing that they weren’t following. “Some of these were made by the pixies, most of them by the Fae.”

Of course they have pixies, the surprises may never end, and curiosity makes Yoongi ask: “The Fae?”

Seokjin spares Yoongi a glance, “Your world must be so boring.” He sighs, “The Fae are thought to be descendants of an Arcane user that was cursed. They could be mistaken for pixies at a glance if you don’t know what to look for. They use arcane magic and their artifacts as they don’t have magic like the pixies do. They also don’t have wings, and the point of their ears are a lot shorter.”

Yoongi realises this is the most Seokjin has spoken to him since he’s arrived, without the air of barely concealed contempt. He glances at his ears and Seokjin notices, chuckling softly.

“I’m not a Fae. Half pixie.” He clarifies for him, though his tone is a little strained. “I don’t carry an arcane.”

His voice trails off and Yoongi senses that the moment is over. Your steps trail back to them, “You two had me talking to myself.”

“Sorry.” Yoongi and Seokjin speak at the same time, and Seokjin remains close as you continue walking.

You seem to glow in the soft glitter of light, a sparkle in your eyes as you explain everything to him. He wonders how you keep everything at the top of your head to rattle it off like you’re telling him about the weather.

Leaving the sanctuary of the library and the room of artifacts behind, you guide Yoongi through a series of winding corridors adorned with portraits of the royal family and their ancestors. Each painting tells a story, capturing the essence of generations past in vibrant strokes and intricate detail.

You pause before a particularly imposing portrait, its gilt frame gleaming in the dim light. It depicts a figure enveloped in swirling winds, their form shrouded in mystery and power.

“This is Incra.” you announce, your voice tinged with reverence. Incra, depicted in the painting, is a woman of striking beauty and undeniable grace. Her dark hair cascades in glossy waves around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with features as delicate as porcelain. Her eyes, pools of deep, mysterious darkness, hold a glimmer of ancient wisdom and unfathomable power.

In the painting, Incra stands with poise and confidence, her figure shrouded in billowing robes that ripple like the winds she commands. Her presence is commanding yet ethereal, radiating an aura of otherworldly elegance and strength.

Despite the passage of time, the artist has captured Incra’s timeless beauty with remarkable precision, immortalizing her as a symbol of reverence and awe.

Yoongi’s gaze lingers on the painting, captivated by the enigmatic figure at its center. He can almost feel the crackle of energy radiating from the canvas, a testament to the awe-inspiring abilities of the kingdom’s ancient arcane users.

As you move along the hallway, you continue to point out notable figures from the kingdom’s history, offering brief descriptions of their accomplishments and legacies. Yoongi listens intently, his curiosity piqued by the rich tapestry of stories woven into each painting.

With the tour of the paintings complete, you lead Yoongi onward, eager to show him more of the palace’s treasures and secrets. As you traverse the hallowed halls of the castle, Yoongi’s sense of wonder only grows, fueled by the tales of valor and magic that echo through its storied corridors.

Next to him, Seokjin stifles a yawn, “If you don’t stop her she could go on all day.” He says, as you open another door with flair, waving them both forward with a hand. Yoongi doesn’t mind really, even with all the knowledge trying to find a place to settle in his head, having to fit amongst all the other regular things already in there.

At the other end of this hallway is an arched ceiling above another door. The walls are carved by little arched windows that are opened to let the cool air from outside blow in.

Before you all could reach the other door, the door behind Yoongi and Seokjin opens. A young man steps through, eyes glancing between Yoongi and Seokjin before they settle on you. He looks like a guard, though dressed very differently to Seokjin. Adorned in a fitted tunic of midnight black, embellished with intricate silver embroidery that catches the light in subtle glimmers, the guard cuts a striking figure against the backdrop of the palace walls. His trousers, tailored to perfection, flow seamlessly into polished leather boots.

The hood of the dark cloak hides the colour of his hair, the folds of it billows at his feet in the slight breeze. There’s a a stretch of dark fabric over the bottom of his face that hides most of his features that leaves just the striking azure of his eyes. He looks like an assassin if Yoongi didn’t know any better.

“Your Highness.” He calls, and there’s a different air about him that Yoongi could feel. It crackles about him like static. “His Majesty requests you.”

“Oh.” You seem to deflate a bit, and Seokjin pats your shoulder gently.

“You can bore us later.”

There’s a swipe of your hand and Seokjin pulls away with a laugh, just shy of getting hit. There’s clearly something more between you both that goes beyond a Princess and her guard.

Yoongi thanks you for taking the time to show him around and you smile, bidding them both goodbye before you follow after the young man.

It’s quiet between Yoongi and Seokjin , the silence slowly melting into something a little awkward as they’re left alone.

“Well this was riveting.” Seokjin says, dropping his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders and leading him forward towards the other end of the hallway. “I’ll show you the courtyard. All the fun stuff happens there.”

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#Persphonesorchid #Fic: Mark Of The Aracne #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #kim taehyung #bts suga #bts suga x reader #bts fantasy au #princess!reader #bts fic recs

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mangosandlillies · 3 months

Text

the dark side of the moon-- a short story

I’ve worked at the fair all of my life, as long as I can remember. The loud-mouthed, greedy, rapacious crowd is all I’ve ever known. As the music sings and the roar of excitement rises to a bittersweet cusp, the night singing a gentle song through the gaps in the patchwork fabric of our domed tent, I fly.

Tonight I wear billowing clothes of emerald green that cascade behind me as I leap off of the platform, touching the swinging bar and feeling only the tips of my fingers brush the wood before my grip closes around it and my body flips forward. I have done this stunt thousands of times, but each time my stomach clenches and my life flashes before my eyes- but I savor it, relish in it. Relish the fear and the new life I am given, as each time I fly I am reborn anew.

I land silently on the platform, bowing gracefully as the crowd erupts with cheers. But it is a cold, lifeless face that looks back at them- one made not of human flesh but of thick wood. One with eyes that peer from behind eyeholes, hidden by the thick shadows the bright lights cast down.

Over my eyes and face I wear a carved wooden mask, painted with intricate details that no man in the far crowd could notice; drawn by my own hands. The lady is what I call her, smooth porcelain-white wood with delicate features drawn with the tiniest of brushstrokes. I dance along with the ensemble, and when I turn to the crowd they see nothing but a dead woman staring back at them- no thoughts behind these shadowed eyes, framed by the open, submissive smile of a doll. They don’t wonder what is hidden behind that mask- they know only that I am beautiful and that I can fly. They shatter with applause when I land on my feet- they care naught about much else.

But I am the star of the show. Their roars fill the room and suffocate me while I raise my hands above my head, tilting my head up to stare not at the crowd but at the winking moon above, one that shines brighter somehow than the harsh stage lights. And despite the cacophony of sounds around me, my world melts away- and suddenly I am underwater, the crowd muffled and distorted. All I can see is the glimmering moon.

It is not the first time I’ve lost myself in her- the moon has a habit of seducing me, trapping me in her golden-glow spell. But tonight…I see my own masked face reflected in hers. Behind the shining crescent, I can feel something darker, something hidden away from my view. I am not like this mindless crowd- I wonder what lies behind the light.

The show ends and I retreat to my dressing room, a small, one-room hut, draped over with thick fabric to cover the cracks in the wall, so as not to let in the draft. String lights drape from the ceiling and a wax candle drips onto a tray at my vanity. In front of my vanity is my dressing room mirror. I sit down before it on a velvet-cushioned stool.

I look at myself in the mirror. I do not dress in this room, nor undress. Not truly. This porcelain-white mask I wear, it is the mask I’ve always worn. I ghost my hands over the lady’s white cheek with the tips of my fingers. I remember the golden-glow light of the moon, and how I saw my own face reflected in her cold night eyes.

For the first time, as I look at my perpetually smiling face, my dead, hollow eyes, I wonder what I look underneath my mask.

I reach around to the back of my head to feel for the ribbon that ties it in place, underneath my tumbling locks of hair. I tug at the ribbon, then cry out in pain. It feels as if the fabric is stuck to the skin of my scalp- I feel the skin underneath my hair pull taught- as if hooked by millions of tiny needles- when I try to undo the knot.

Panic rushes through me for a split second like a strike of lightning through my veins and I tug harder, my eyes watering, but I push through the pain and hear a crackling rip as the ribbon finally comes loose. The mask falls into my lap and the ribbon unfurls in my hands, taking out strands of my hair along with it.

For the first time in a long time, I feel air brushing against my brow, caressing my cheek. I take a deep breath, staring at my hands with unburdened vision- I can see so much now, so much around me, my vision widened far beyond what I thought was possible. The weight I had been wearing has been lifted and instead of feeling raw and naked, I feel free.

My gaze rises to meet my reflection in the mirror.

A gust of wind makes its way around the thick velvet fabric and whips around the room, blowing out all of my candles except for the one flickering at my desk. I am left in the near-dark except for stark, dancing, candlelight.

A blank face stares back at me from the mirror. A washed-over, pallid complexion- with the gray tinge of a corpse. Where the eyes, mouth, and nose should be, there is nothing but veiny, translucent skin stretched taught. But behind it, behind the thin skin, I swear I can see the creature smile.

Is this what I look like, beneath this beautiful mask? I feel emotion well behind my eyes but I cannot move, cannot even take a breath.

And suddenly, though I am perfectly still, the creature moves- it waves a hand at me.

I scream, scramble backward, toppling over the stool in my panic, but it takes me a moment before I realize no sound comes out of my throat. I clutch at my throat but even though I feel myself screaming myself raw, I hear nothing but the whistling of wind, rustling the fabric.

The wind grows louder, louder, to the point where it howls in my ears, but I can’t take my eyes off the monster in the mirror. I lift my hands off my throat and the thing mimics my motions. Hands shaking, I touch my eyes with gentle fingers and sure enough, I can feel my own eyes. But in the mirror, my twisted reflection touches nothing but two indented hollows in its smooth face. My hands are still hovering over my face but the creature puts its hands down. It is still smiling at me- or at least, I can feel it smiling. I can feel it mocking me. The wind is whistling in my ears so loud I can barely hear anything else.

The figure lunges at me. I scream soundlessly and jerk backward, trip, and fall backward onto the carpeted floor. It is bitterly cold– the cold winter air is swirling around my room, whipping around the fabric, revealing the cracked concrete wall behind it. Where is my mask? I search around the room frantically for it, but I can’t find it at first, can’t see it anywhere. Panic shoots through me. Tears well in my eyes- I need it, I can’t do this without it. The figure is banging on the glass in the mirror. I don’t feel it smile anymore- there is murderous intent behind its fists. I can see hairline fractures radiating from where it pounds the glass, fractures that grow longer with each passing moment. I don’t have much time-

There it is- her perfect porcelain face, ever-smiling. I snatch at it but the wind pulls it just out of my grasp. I lunge for it. But I am too late- the glass shatters behind me and the final candle snuffs out. I am left in the dark.

The wind stills. All is silent- except for the sound of a second breath, one just a scale softer than my own.

There is someone behind me. I can feel it- the huff of breath that is not my own at the back of my neck. I am crawling on all fours, groping the floor with my hands, trying to feel for what I cannot see- feel for my mask, for my lady, for the iron bars that shield me from piercing gazes. I feel more naked than ever without my iron lady to shield me from this terrible creature. I need my mask, I need it-

My hand grasps upon something smooth and wooden just as I feel the brush of a cold, dead hand across my shoulder. I grab it and put it to my face as quickly as I can, tying the ribbon tight to the point of pain at the back of my head. It feels heavy on my face, almost like metal. I love this mask in all its metal glory. The weight becomes imperceptible after merely a second.

The candles flicker back to light. I whip around.

There is nobody in the room but myself. The wind has stopped completely, and the fabric drapery is still, the candles all lit. I look tentatively in the mirror. Nothing but my own masked reflection- a lady, staring back at me, dressed in beautiful green robes and illuminated by candle and moonlight, epitome of beauty and grace. Underneath the painted smile widens my own. I lift a hand- the reflection mirrors me. All is right.

I tighten the ribbon of the mask and step outside the dressing room, staring up at the wide expanse of night sky. The moon is bright above me, and I turn my head up to look at it.

It smiles back at me, a mirror of my painted, soulless smile.

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

Notes:

I know it's silly when authors write comments about their own work- i for one, hate when people try to tell me how to feel about a piece of art, and I usually prefer to let my work speak for itself. But I wanted to share that I wrote this piece about my experience with dysphoria and trans-ness, and how my specific experience is so visceral and horrific I can't find a way to put into words other than in the form of a narrative. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it!

#writing #short story #writer #writerscommunity #creative writing #writers on tumblr #transgender #transmasc

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immobiliter · 2 months

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@orchideae sent: "Fontainians sure are something else. Do you know what they celebrate today?" The heels of her boots tapped against the wooden boards of the Alcor perhaps a little too loudly when she finally boarded, the grin kept tightly lodged behind closed lips that instead, lingered in a smile of both judgement or growing gaiety. But only slightly so. Claiming her spot aside the ship's captain, the box she'd held in hand seemed almost too intentionally held on display, rested on the railing as it was, a temptation to any of curious nature. Heart-shaped, enveloped in a wrapping paper so vibrantly golden that even Ningguang would surely grow envious of it, and tied with about three different vibrantly colored ribbons of which one was even sparkling radiantly due to the sun hung overhead. "It's the day of love. They've been leading up to it for days now, the city's been impossible to navigate." The box was turned from one side to the other a time or two, as if a moment was taken to scrutinize its design. "But I think I managed well enough." A little nod in the distance showed a much smaller boat slowly approaching them, one pretty obviously at full capacity, drowning the two individuals on it amidst all the bags and boxes around them. "There's some in there for your crew, too, and— oh, before I forget, careful with the containers on top, I may have stopped by the Hotel Debord to pick up some local delicacies for a feast tonight." And just then, Yelan held out the box in offer, accompanied by a wink of relative sly nature, and a chuckle she could no longer contain. "Happy Valentine's day, captain Beidou." She would have a field day with this every year, from this day forward.

(As for the gifts? There's numerous boxes in there holding all kinds of delicacies for the crew, but most of it is for Beidou, of course. The same delicacies for her and then some, there's also numerous packages containing trinkets for in her hair that are typical of Fontaine even if the color scheme is lightly off, because sorry Beidou, Fontaine likes its blues! There's also a larger, but thinner box in which she will find a beautifully intricate Fontainian dress in her trademark red [Yelan may have insisted on the color], with a note on top that says: 'Do you think this will outdo hers? Don't keep her waiting', because if you don't think she doesn't tease Beidou about Ning ESPECIALLY after seeing Ning in that specific dress once? Yeah, okay. But the main present is hidden within a gorgeous mahogany box that has Beidou's initial carved into its top in relatively decorative calligraphy, and there's golden accents lining it throughout. Inside of the box is the gift: a beautifully adorned gun, lined even more intricately than the box itself with the same accent colors, and if you look at the handle, it has Beidou's initial engraved into it in a similar fashion, along with engravings of vicious waves along the gun's barrel, and if you really look at the details [Yelan is a woman of detail, come on]— you might even see a recognizable ship. And lastly, is the note, which is simpler than any of the gifts: 'Happy birthday, Beidou.')

“ The day of love? ” Beidou's brow arched as Yelan joined her on the Alcor's quarterdeck, a map of the sea connecting Romaritime Harbour with Yilong Wharf spread open on the table in front of her. She'd been learning all sorts of things about their northern neighbours over the past few months — and though she'd taken particular interest herself in the unique quality of the water in Fontaine, and the geography of the huge waterfall that lifted the nation above sea level, she'd learned plenty about the culture from the aforementioned friend and esteemed colleague beside her. She should be flattered, really, that the Fontainians had picked her own special day of the year to celebrate love in all its forms, though she hoped the trend wouldn't spread to Liyue and truly overshadow it. At least there, the day still belonged to her and her alone. The heart-shaped box placed in front of her quickly piqued Beidou's curiosity. “ And you've forsaken your so-called Duke to spend it with me? ” After that, there was no way that Beidou couldn't tease Yelan, just a little.

Though she quickly regretted her flippancy at the nod over Yelan's shoulder to the shallow waters over the railing, where a small dinghy approached the Alcor completely overloaded with crates and bags. Her eyes went wide, and before she knew it her boots had carried her over to the railing itself, watching as the poor sailors on it attempted to secure the craft to the hull of her ship so that they could begin unloading. Any hesitation one might have gauged in their captain's demeanour vanished as quickly as it appeared. “ Have it taken below, Juza, and see to it that anything personally addressed — ” she cast a pointed look in Yelan's direction, “ is taken to my cabin. ”

As always, Juza and the rest of the crew sprung into action, and Beidou's attention once again swung back to her friend. “ Seriously, Yelan, there was no need to go to all this trouble on my account. I don't even know what to say. Thank you. ” Sure, the Alcor never forgot their captain's birthday, but Beidou was always grateful no matter how small the gifts she received. Members of the Crux were paid fairly, but she never expected their income to go towards luxurious gifts for her. This was something new. She smiled, and slightly clasped Yelan's shoulder. “ This feast'll be one to remember. ”

Little did she know that this feast would be the perfect opportunity to test-run the dress that would soon find its way to her living quarters.

#orchideae #* / answered ( beidou. )#sae this is soooooooo cute #i actually can't #also yes yes - she's wearing the dress to this impromptu alcor feast #i figured yelan would approve ;)

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naerwenia · 2 years

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Tight Red Rope (Mozus x Reader)

Mozus Trein x f!reader

Warnings: suggestive content, teacher/student relationship, D/s themes, submissive reader, dom Mozus

Author’s note: It’s a good start, I really wish I could finish this at some point, but dissociation and depression are getting worse, so see you in couple of months. Until then, enjoy!

For a few hours every week Mozus let his guard down, took off his cape and gloves, set all aside to enjoy the company of another human being and the art of shibari. He told himself it was to let you be free of all expectations for a moment, letting you just exist in your body, while he practised something he was passionate about. Yet he could not deny the hotness of your skin when he touched you, when he wrapped the hemp rope around you and let his fingers touch your soft skin. Every time the spark was there, every time the spark got bigger and now it felt like a flaming arrow in Mozus’ hands. He was going to burn himself one day, and even if he knew it might be today, he opened the door and welcomed you into his office.

You wore the same dress every time. Short skater dress and stockings, almost the same colour as your skin, so at a glance it might have looked like you were naked. It was intentional, Mozus was sure of it, yet he never mentioned it, just enjoyed the idea while admiring you. When you stepped into the room, you always locked the door first before saying anything. You both did everything to make it look like it was more of a counselling session than anything else, since it was the easiest way to explain this, and in some fucked up way it was. Tying you up was almost therapeutic for both of you, as you had the chance to just be, lose control, let someone else be in control after trying to hold a life together in this weird world, let go of yourself, while Mozus finally had the chance to control, have all the strings tightly in his hands for once. String he gently placed on your skin, tied around your limbs, making the ropes support your posture. Sometimes it was closed, hands together behind your back and legs together, and sometimes more elaborately positioned like a dancer. The positions were never uncomfortable, even when you were left standing on one leg, as Mozus’ intricate knots were there to support you, just like his hands when he tied them. At times he used satin ribbon and it always felt so sensual in contrast to the almost rough hemp, but you still loved the hemp rope more, even if the satin was sweet and gentle, almost too gentle even with tight knots, only reminding you of the conventional love stories found in romantic comedies and romance paperbacks. The rough rope always felt stronger, more controlling, like you could trust it to keep you from falling out of your body, or reminding you of Mozus’ rough hands that were there to catch you if anything went wrong, if you stumbled, if you let your heart skip a beat.

Today was no different. You knocked, he said come in, you opened the door and closed it as soon as possible, locking it, and moving closer to his table, taking off your long cardigan that hid the bare minimum of clothes you had for the hour or two you got to spend with your friend, professor, teacher, confidant, master. Maybe not master per se, but you always wished you had the courage to call him that, see how he reacted to breaking of the thin veil between you, separating you to your roles of a student and a teacher. The veil was so thin you could see each other through it as it clung to your skin as your hands touched with only a faint hint of fabric there. You could feel his warmth and the sweat on his palms, smell his cologne, yet you had a degree of separation between you two, if only by a technicality, but it was enough. Through the months, what had started innocently, had morphed into trying to see which one of you would break, make the first move.

Mozus’ grip on the rope was tight, almost burning, as he pulled it through his fist, grounding himself as to not get lost admiring your body. The burn from the red rope coiled around his hand made it harder for him to aimlessly feel your body, to just feel the small of your back, the soft skin of your hands, the small scars left by a cruel life, the muscles of your legs brought on by the countless stairs of the academy. While at the start he had trouble even bringing the rope between your legs, now he found himself brushing his hand across your panties, finding them damp every time. Sometimes he would use his fingers to check that the rope went in a straight line between your legs, just to feel your reaction to the session. Every time it was sensual, erotic, deeply infuriating and arousing, a game between self-control and desire. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to have met you under any other circumstances, so he could show his love for you, knowing this was out of the line, yet he let you come in every time and let himself touch you, play and laugh with you, let himself be aroused by your submission and your reactions to his touch.

#mozus trein #mozus trein x reader #twisted wonderland mozus trein #twst x reader #twst mozus

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djmarinizelablog · 2 years

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Make that Money (Watch it Burn) isn't normal... I have never felt so strange reading a fanfiction. It is sexy, beautiful, provocative. I was damn blushing, writer! The sex scenes taste like heaven and hell, particular paradise, something that everybody would desire. Truly desire.

I would love to read more.

Wah, someone is still reading that (spicy, nsfw) Levihan fic of mine????

And since you're too kind, Anon, I will grant you your request! Here's an excerpt of that pending part 2 of Make that Money (Watch It Burn):

One lewd photo of her is enough, oh yes. Levi doesn’t realize what actually constitutes a lewd photo. (Full nudes? Tease pics? Orgasmic face? He was playing innocent the last time Hange asked him this.) All he knows, and bless his naive heart and not-so-virgin soul, is that it’s definitely enough to make shivers run down his spine, however it may turn out to be.

They were talking about interest rates for their potential investment—a pharmaceutical deal, what a surprise—when his phone beeped with a message from Hange. Levi had to bite his tongue and restrain his hand to the side of the table. Damn, he’ll probably go to hell for his imagination’s lack of restraint. In the picture, she’s yanking the hem of her shirt low enough for him to see the hills of her breasts, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders, a part of her skin already peeking out from the lopsided shirt. Her mouth is wide open, lips stained red for sure it was going to be imprinted in his mind. Past her oversized tee, her leg is bent at an angle in which he can see her thick thighs and bare legs and—god forbid—she’s not wearing any underwear.

A cough from Furlan and Levi immediately hides his phone, hoping no one else has seen it. The other executives are looking at him, expecting him to contribute something valuable to the discussion. He clears his throat and clasps his fingers together on the table and goes, “So, I think we’re closing a deal real soon.”

He goes to her place later that night.

“What?” Hange giggles once she pulls him into her unit. Her entire place resembles a college student’s apartment, textbooks and wads of paper on every surface of her desk, but Levi cannot be too bothered about their surroundings.

“You can’t just send me those photos out of nowhere.”

“Oh, did that turn you on?” Hange lets out a laugh when he rolls his eyes. For some reason, she finds the gesture cute. “I got you something, though.”

With his curiosity piqued, she hands him a small black box, sleek with a silver ribbon on top. He opens it and takes the gift from the intricate wrapping. It's a silk necktie, fancy red and black stripes alternating on the fabric. Hange may be in graduate school, but this one probably goes beyond her usual expenses.

Levi does an internal groan. Ties are a corporate leash, a reminder that bankers have sold their souls to the corporate world.

"I can't wear this."

"Why not? You can always make a fashion statement once in a while."

"Zackley's gonna kill me if I wear anything more expensive than his watch."

"Ah, what a shame." Hange goes over to Levi's side and sits on his lap. His hand accidentally slides up her thigh and confirms his assumptions. (Yup, no underwear.)

Hange hums while playing with the strands of his dark hair, mastering the art of seduction, his expensive gift hanging by her arm. "Still, we have to make use of this one way or another."

“What do you have in mind?”

Without warning, she puts the tie on him, fingers lazily pushing the knot further up his neck. He doesn’t know how to react once Hange kisses him, her firm hands roaming around his chest. Levi catches the idea and knows what to do. He gets lost in Hange’s kisses, and the next thing he knows he’s already naked in her sheets. Well, almost.

"Keep it on," Hange tells him, her toe prodding his chest.

"What?"

"The tie. I like it."

He does keep it on. From the mirror on the corner, he’s aware he looks silly, something in between a stripper or a macho dancer from Magic Mike, and a clown. Once his pants are discarded, he climbs the bed and Hange tugs him by the fabric around his neck like she owns him.

"Stay close to me," Hange whispers to him, wrapping the loose end around her hand.

There's not much he can deny her this time around. The heel of her palms are pushing him down by the shoulders, and Levi thinks this is something that really turns him on, because now, he’s fully erect, cock throbbing so hard he just wants to be inside her right now, right this moment.

"Shit, Hange, I'm—"

"Direct me,” she murmurs against his mouth.

He stops. "How?"

"However you want it. I'm all yours."

Levi takes her hand and wraps her fingers around his length. He closes his eyes when Hange grips it tighter and starts stroking him without so much of a guidance from him.

"Do you like it when I touch you like this?" Her eyes are gleaming under the moonlight from her window and Levi knows this will be the death of him.

"Yeah, I—"

"What if I go faster?"

"Shit, yeah,” Levi hisses. “Fuck."

Hange kisses him again like there's no tomorrow. She nibbles his lower lip and inserts her tongue into his mouth, and Levi cannot think of anything else for tonight except for the warmth of her touch.

#levihan #levi ackerman #attack on titan #hange zoe #fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #captain levi #levi attack on titan #hanji zoe #ao3 #writing #mine #ask #open #djmarinizela

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neoninky · 1 year

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TWST Fic "Her Ivory Crown": Chapter 7

Ch. 7: A Golden Afternoon

The sound of birds singing outside of her window seemed like a happy sign, one she would gladly not question. Reine continued to get dressed into her Rosabyrine uniform with a soft smile and a musical hum. She was feeling much better today and anyone within a mile could see it. Just one last session at the tea garden booth before the real tea party with the Heartslabyul boys this afternoon. The princess started to comb her hair, getting ready to put it in a long braid once again, and looked back to the red and black ribbons on her nightstand, next to the vase of roses. She smiled and mused quietly to herself, "It is the last day of the exhibition. A change would be nice..."

Alyssa and the other girls had gone ahead without her, telling her to take her time, so when Reine walked down the stairs, only Manari, Jinnah, and the dance team were there. The Almascaber dorm prefect quickly noticed the ribbons and red rose that tied her hair back into a high, wavy ponytail today as opposed to her usual, intricate white-rose clad braid. Not to mention the happy mood completely surrounding her in general.

"Well, well, don't you look happy, Your Highness," Manari giggled as she comfortably lounged in the parlor chair, wearing her gym clothes, "Big plans today?"

Reine just gave her friend a playful smirk, "Why yes, I've been invited to have tea and tarts with the King of Heartslabyul and his noble court. But first I must away! The Rosabyrine's garden awaits its Queen."

"Oooo fancy, well have fun rubbing elbows and swapping sugar cubes with His Majesty," Manari and Jinnah snickered to themselves, "us common folk will be busy dancing our butts off for the last rehearsals before the grand battle tomorrow."

"We hope our performance pleases you and brings honor to our glorious school, Your Majesticness!" Jinnah made a dramatic bow to Reine, garnering a laugh from the rest of the dance team, "and good luck to you in your game of flamingos and hedgehogs!" Manari hopped up and joined her vice leader in an exaggerated curtsy, making Reine just laugh and play along before walking out the door.

It was too good of a day to ruin for anyone, really. Reine found herself being escorted to the tea garden by her good feline friend and in much higher spirits than the day before. Manari and her girls jogged their way to the NRC gymnasium, chanting with gusto before meeting up with Charlaine who was just as excited to get started. Elise was in her element, smiling and greeting students from all three schools to her exhibit and sharing her favorite legends that had been passed down from sailors in her father's service for generations. Everyone that was either in the girls' company or happened to be passing by them was immediately swept up in their glowing energy.

Honestly, the only person who seemed troubled...was Riddle.

Across campus in the Heartslabyul gardens, the crimson king was pacing about, checking every minute detail for about the hundredth time that morning. The tea party wasn't for a couple of hours but still, he was beyond restless. It was painfully, if not hilariously, obvious to the two seniors at the garden's edge.

"I know it's Riddle being...well...Riddle, but this seems a bit excessive," Cater whispered to Trey while trying not to laugh.

"He wants to make a good impression on the girls, I can't blame him for being a little more...motivated," Trey smiled knowingly which did not sneak by Cater's sharp eye.

"Oh ho...? You know something else, don't you, Vice Dorm Leader? Come on. What is it? Tell me, tell meeee~" Cater was beginning to sound like an excited jr high girl.

The clover just chuckled and casually sidestepped his classmate's suspicion, "No idea what you mean. I'm just saying that Riddle may be on edge because this is a very special occasion for him and us as a dorm."

Cater wasn't sold. He side-eyed Trey as he silently recounted the last 24 hours in his head: Riddle picked flowers that no one was supposed to pick before suddenly delivering said flowers that same night...suddenly Trey's making extra tarts for the party that is today....girls are magically invited to said party last minute...also Riddle didn't eat as much at breakfast and now he's acting like this-waaaaaaait...

"Oooh my Magicame GOD! What?!" Cater laughed loudly once all the pieces came together, "Riddle has a CRUSH?!"

Trey quickly tried to shut the diamond senior up but it was too late. Riddle completely halted his flurried behavior and snapped his head around to where Trey and Cater were, his face bright red, though it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. Thankfully it was just the three of them at that moment but Riddle's outburst was so intense that surely the rest of the school also heard him.

"WH-WH-WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU SPEWING OVER THERE, CATER?!"

It took a solid ten minutes for Trey to get Riddle to calm down. Trey sighed at Cater's unapologetically eager grin as he whispered-yelled to a very flustered Riddle, "Sooooooo...? Come on, dorm leader, you can tell us. Who is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about! I merely invited the Rosabyrine dorm because they expressed great interest in seeing Heartslabyul!!" Riddle aggressively whispered back in response.

"Uh-huh...if that's the case then...why are we hiding behind this rose bush, whispering about this right now?"

The two seniors had been quickly shuffled out of the tea party area by an upset Riddle who clearly did not want to risk anyone else walking into their conversation at that time. And yet, here he was still trying to downplay what Cater, and Trey too honestly, had already sniffed out. Cater was anything but a quitter.

"Is it that first year, Alyssa? She's a cutiiiieeee~ Though I think Deuce might like her too, just sayin'. So that might be awkward but hey all's fair in love and war, right?" Cater winked mischievously in Riddle's direction only to be met with a silent glare, "No? Ok well, the second years are pretty cute too. Ooh or maybe our dorm leader's into older women? If so I did get some numbers of the seniors-"

"Shutup,Cater!It'sMissReine!" Riddle mumbled it so quickly that Cater almost didn't catch it. Riddle wished that was so but judging from the ecstatic look on the senior's face, he wasn't that lucky.

"The Princess???? Ooh ho ho, Riddle, you rogue-I mean ahem-" Cater quickly cleared his throat at the familiar look of rage in Riddle's eyes, "Good for you! She's quite the lady! And what a ballsy choice. I mean it's pretty much common knowledge now, even on our campus, that Cavalier guy is chasing after her-ACK!" Trey glared at Cater as he elbowed him in the side.

Riddle raised a brow at Cater's less than inspiring commentary but knew that he wasn't wrong. Great Queen of Hearts, just when he thought he might finally feel normal after last night, Riddle felt that sick pinprick in his gut all over again at the reminder. Cater felt a wave of guilt seeing the defeated look on Riddle's face and quickly tried to recover the situation.

"Hey, hey, what's with that look? The princess is a very sweet girl, hell, I'm sure over half the guys in Heartslabyul have a crush on her too. Doesn't mean she's spoken for already though right? It's not like you to give up so easily!"

"What that said...your secret is safe with us. Right, Cater?" Trey gave his classmate a very sharp look that decided the answer for him.

Riddle huffed and did his best to return to his usual commanding self, "Not a word of this to anyone. ANYONE. Miss Reine's not some trinket to fight over like a pack of wild animals. She is a guest and a princess. Our princess. We will treat her and respect her as such."

The two seniors shared a serious look before responding, "Yes, Dorm Leader."

The three boys returned to the garden's center, Riddle swallowing his feelings the best he could with each step.

"Excellent jobs, girls. Thank you for all of your hard work. You have made me very proud to be your leader and fellow Rosabyrine student."

The girls all cheered at their joint success. Reine couldn't be more pleased with the turnout of their final tea party even though they did close their booth much earlier than the others. Alyssa quickly went over the ticket sales numbers along with any orders submitted for the Rosabyrine's special tea blends and tea sets with Reine as the other girls cleaned up the area. All of them were just as eager as their queen to get everything settled before they left for the Heartslabyul tea party. Reine signed off on all the purchases and made her own notes for later before checking her pocket watch. She gave a satisfied hum at their time before helping the other girls pack up the clean unused tea sets that would be distributed to their happy patrons later. Noticing a specific name on that list, Reine grinned and set aside one tea set and jar of tea leaves to deliver personally. She finished wrapping them in checkered cloth with a signature white rose just as the rest of her dorm finished their work and cradled the precious cargo in her arms as she followed the others towards the main street. Being the last one out of the garden, Reine turned back and placed an enchantment on the area to protect it from anyone outside their dorm entering it and potentially stealing or breaking any of the merchandise. It was a simple enough spell, for her anyway, but Reine felt a slight cough prickle in her throat and chest after the fact. She ignored the bitter wet taste of ink in her mouth and followed the rest of her dorm towards the Hall of Mirrors. Trey and Cater both stood waiting for the excited girls and helped them enter through the Heartslabyul mirror, Reine entering last...and she was not disappointed in the least. Each of the girls gasped in excitement at the overall aesthetic of the boys' dorm and their uniforms. Reine especially forgot herself and just took everything in with wide eyes. It reminded her so much of her visits to her aunt and cousins' court when she was little; so much that she felt her heart swell. Trey smiled at her pure fascination, "Welcome to the Heartslabyul dorm, Miss Reine. What do you think?"

"It's...so....wonderful," she said barely above a whisper as if she were afraid her words might break.

Elise gently placed the last piece that had been auctioned off back inside its box before handing off the boxes to her brother students that had volunteered to help her and her girls. Looking over the numbers, she was less than satisfied. Sure the girls of Sacred Crown were doing fairly well all things considered but even with their final push to make more profits, they were still far behind the two boys' schools. Royal Sword was still in first place...as usual. Elise couldn't remember the last time they ever beat their brother school at anything. She could really understand how the Night Raven boys felt now in a sense. Granted she was also surprised her school did as well as they did in the shadows of two powerhouse schools that were hellbent on out-doing the other. At the very least, Elise was pleased that the silent auction portion of her exhibit went as well as it did. Speaking of which... The princess looked over the pieces and found the exact one that came to mind. Elise looked at the antique music box, fashioned to look like a seashell wrapped in pieces of coral, sitting on a nest of seaweed, and touched it lightly, fondly. The music box had been in her personal collection for a long time. The only reason Elise was parting with it now was because her club needed more funding and she didn't want to leave the others high and dry after she graduated. Elise was a little sad to see it go but...she smiled at the name on the sold tag.

"I'm sure you will make Mr. Ashengrotto very happy."

She gently packaged the music box before wrapping it herself and carefully placing it in her satchel to deliver to the Monstro Lounge personally. Once she finished deligating where everything was to be placed and stored until the end of the festival, Elise checked her phone and saw that Manari had sent her a short video of their practice session. The day was still young so she decided to see her friends in action herself, leaving the rest of the booth in her girls' capable hands.

The Heartslabyul gardens had never been more lively than they were now. Cater was taking selfies and pictures for his Magicame, left and right. The fashion of the Rosabyrine uniforms went so well with the gardens and the boys themselves, there was no way he wasn't going to get his money's worth of likes and comments on as many pictures as he could. Alyssa was in the same camp apparently.

"Reine! Stand over here! You look so perfect with the roses!"

The princess gladly agreed to model for a moment and let Alyssa, Cater, and a few others take her picture. Stepping into the role of crown princess made experiences like this almost second nature now. She didn't even mind that a few of the Heartslabyul boys wanted to take pictures with her as well. Riddle would periodically look over his shoulder as he was caring for the hedgehogs before the croquet match and try not to glare at his dormmates buzzing around Reine like excited little bees. It's fine. She doesn't seem to mind, he thought to himself. This was the first time they've ever had female visitors to their dorm so it's to be expected that the boys would be excited....he looked over his shoulder again when he heard Reine's laugh. Deuce and Ace were arguing about something, again, before Cater pushed a now very flustered Deuce to take a picture with Alyssa which just made Ace tease Deuce more. The whole time Reine and Trey were talking and smiling about...something. Riddle felt himself begin to sweat a bit. Surely Trey wouldn't betray him, right?! Cater was another story but not Trey! As if he read the flustered boy's mind, Trey looked over at Riddle as soon as Reine was distracted and gave him a reassuring smile before subtly nodding his head in Reine's direction. That's when Riddle noticed the red rose and ribbons in her hair. His heart immediately skipped a beat after he recognized them. He quickly turned back around, hoping no one else saw his face flush. He silently cursed himself, not hearing someone come up behind him minutes later.

"Riddle?"

The boy nearly fell to pieces at the sound of that oh-so-familiar voice behind him. He quickly composed himself the best he could and stood up to face a smiling Reine, "Miss Reine. Thank you for coming today. Are you enjoying y-yourself?" Stop. Stuttering.

The girl nodded happily and offered the checkered parcel to him, "I wanted to deliver this to you in person. To thank you for your purchase and to thank you for inviting us today. The Heartslabyul dorm is even more beautiful than I imagined!"

Somehow her excitement completely overshadowed any other feeling of propriety Reine may have felt before now. Riddle didn't mind, it was refreshing. He softened a bit as he took the items from her, noticing both the fresh white rose and how much happier she looked today. It put him at ease quicker than he could imagine. It only got better once Reine saw the hedgehogs and gasped in delight, "Aww what cute little darlings!" The tiny creatures all seemed drawn to her as she kneeled down to get a better look at them. Perhaps attracting small, adorable animals was a power all princesses had? Riddle wasn't sure but seeing the colorful hedgehogs cluster up to her, much like the boys had been doing earlier, made him feel both amused and weirdly envious. Yes, he knew that he was being silly but damn it all...she looked so pleased holding the little critters in her hands and cooing to them in a soft voice. Had it really only been one night that changed everything? Riddle was curious but not so much that he wanted to ruin her mood by questioning it. Instead, he joined her on the ground, properly introducing her to each little hedgehog, and showing her how each one liked to be held or pet or fed certain snacks. He almost forgot that there was an entire party of other people all around them. Unfortunately for him, Cater had already gotten plenty of shots while the two were distracted.

"They're so adorable it's almost sickening," he chuckled as he scrolled through the pictures he had taken of the unaware couple, "and look. They almost match, awww~"

Trey looked at the picture on Cater's phone of Riddle and Reine side by side, both in their dorm uniforms, both looking very content as if they themselves were the king and queen, enjoying their own personal garden. He convinced Cater to respect their privacy and not upload those pictures onto Magicame...but he also asked that Cater text him that specific picture later. He hated to interrupt but it was almost time for the croquet match and he knew how Riddle was about keeping everyone on schedule.

"Would you like to play as well, Miss Reine?" Trey asked, ignoring Riddle's put-out expression at the interruption. Just when they thought Reine couldn't get any more excited, her face lit up at the offer.

"Can I?!"

"Of course," Trey chuckled, "do you play back home?"

Reine's excitement dimmed, "Unfortunately no. My mother doesn't allow traditional Red Queen croquet matches in her court anymore. She thinks it's cruel to the animals and just too silly and improper in general. I haven't played a game since I was a child and visiting my cousins."

Riddle inwardly scoffed at what he just heard, "I don't know about being 'improper', but I assure you Heartslabyul takes pride in our care for these creatures and we also take pride in our matches. I insist you join in our game today, Miss Reine. This one seems particularly fond of you," he nodded to the blue hedgehog that had relaxed in Reine's hands quite some time ago and refused to move. Reine just beamed like a kid in a candy store as Riddle took her to meet the flamingos. Fortunately, the blue flamingo also took to her very quickly.

"Let's run all the way through it one more time!"

Elise sat in the bleachers, watching her friends practice their routine with pride. The music and dance contest tomorrow wasn't nearly as big of an event as the official VDC festival but that wouldn't stop Manari and her team from giving it their all. Normally, the dance team would perform on their own but once the girls caught wind of their competition, they joined forces with Charlaine who had already gained some traction on Magicame for her singing. The petite Oscenellus dorm leader was known for her charming bell-like voice and repertoire of dreamy love songs which didn't really go with Manari and Jinnah's modern take on the fluid dances from their homeland but somehow, they made it work. Charlaine proved to be a fast learner, making the girls' dancing flow together seamlessly as she led with her vocals front and center. The princess gave the girls a standing ovation as the song ended. Manari called for another short break and joined Elise up in the bleachers with a confident smile, "I know we're going up against both Vil and Neige tomorrow but I'm feeling pretty good if I do say so myself."

"You make it look like you could perform this routine in your sleep," Elise laughed, "the sheer force of popularity and bitter rivalry is against us across the board, unfortunately..." she pouted at the sales stats on the tablet in her hands, "I hate to say it but we're completely outmatched by Royal Sword and Night Raven."

"So gloomy," Manari sighed, "Can't say you're wrong though. Imagine how the Night Raven boys must feel, getting shown up on their own turf, oof...it's the Magift game all over again."

"Speaking of which...isn't this the same headband you wore to the game, Manari?" Elise gave the Kalim replica headscarf a smug grin.

"Nooo...that one was burgundy and gold with a lot more beads. THIS one is white and gold and doesn't have the same train on it. Totally different, " she ignored Elise's look of skepticism, "besides not only does it bring me good luck, the Scarabia boys keep wanting to take pictures with me. I should start selling tickets. Ooo I'd make a fortune!"

The girls laughed but Elise suddenly paused and gave Manari a serious look, "Wait...how many boys have asked you so far?"

"Geez, I've lost count. Even some of the boys from Royal Sword have stopped me for pictures!"

Eureka. Elise's face broke out into a smile, "Manari, you just gave me the best idea ever. Jinnah! Charlaine! Come here!"

The other girls formed a circle around the princess as she explained her idea to them in detail. It was very last minute and she would need some help but if they could pull this off...

"We may not be able to beat our brother school directly, but we can help our new friends here at Night Raven get some revenge while also getting a nice profit ourselves...what do you say, girls?"

The excitement spread like wildfire as the plan was passed on to the rest of the dance team. Manari and Jinnah shared a look of mischief before giving a unanimous 'oh yes!' and Charlaine was practically bouncing up and down like a chipper little bird.

"Excellent. With Manari and Jinnah's combined illusion magic, we should be in business."

"Is this really ok though? The Headmistress is very strict about us using our magic outside the classroom...and this isn't on the photography club's schedule. She's bound to notice something is up." Charlaine wasn't against the idea, just the possible repercussions if they got caught.

Elise's cool resolve didn't even flinch, "Exactly. We need to be discreet and keep the details under tight wraps...which is why I know exactly who can help us."

Manari gave the shorter redhead a sly grin, "Besides...we only get in trouble if we get caught."

The Rosabyrine girls' laughter ran throughout the Heartslabyul gardens as the sun crossed the sky. Reine couldn't hide her amusement as she chased after her mischievous little blue hedgehog as it kept trying to scamper off the field, "Come back here, you adorable little menace! One more swing and I promise I will give you as many treats as you like!"

Riddle couldn't help but tease her a bit as his red animals had been behaving perfectly the entire time, "Having a bit of trouble, Miss Reine?"

The princess shot him a wry smile, "Why do I feel like you put them up to this, Riddle? Scared of losing your title to a new challenger so soon?"

The Heartslabyul boys were both shocked and amused to see someone so casually test their dorm leader. Cater took this rare opportunity to poke the bear a bit as he waited his turn, "Oooh you gonna let her talk to you like that, Dorm Leader??"

Riddle just snorted and gave the diamond a smug look, "Can you afford to be so concerned about me, Cater? Her Highness knocked you out of the running ages ago."

Reine finally got her hedgehog to settle down long enough to take her final shot, securing her place in the top three with a gleeful cheer. Sure Riddle was still the champion but she did far better than expected. Cater took his last shot with the same lack of precision as he had been doing the entire game, letting Reine take his spot in second. Only Riddle seemed to notice but said nothing as the senior gave him a wink. The rest of the garden applauded and cheered, congratulating Riddle on another solid victory before the other boys started rallying up the flamingos and hedgehogs. Reine found her ornery blue ball and scooped it up in her hands like Riddle showed her earlier, sweetly apologizing for wearing the poor thing out. Riddle took a moment while everyone else was distracted and walked up to her. She looked up at him with an impish sparkle in her eyes.

"Congratulations on taking first place. I suppose I will have to come back tomorrow to pour your tea, Your Majesty..."

Riddle's smile was a proud one, "Rule #703 - 'Whoever comes in 2nd place during a croquet match must serve tea to the Queen the next day.' It would seem so."

Reine grinned slyly, "I shall arrive within the hour of your teatime. I wouldn't want you to break another rule on my account...Rule #228?" she giggled and brushed her fingers against the red petals of the rose adorned in her hair as Riddle's face turned the same shade. This girl would be the death of him, he was now sure of it. He sputtered some kind of response before finally getting enough of a grip to deflect the attention off of himself.

"Y-You seem much happier today, Miss Reine. I'm glad."

Reine couldn't deny it but the events from the day before were still waiting in the back of her mind. She just decided to let them sit back there for today and as such, kept her soft regal air on and at the ready. Besides, when was the last time she had this much fun and it come so easily? Reine didn't want to ruin it, especially when they only had a few more days of the festival left. The realization felt sad but the princess stood and faced her host with a smile nonetheless.

"I have you and the rest of Heartslabyul to thank for it," she suddenly became self-conscious now that the party was quieting down, "I..I'm sorry, I've been so flighty today. It's just been so long since I've had so much fun."

Riddle gently took the blue hedgehog from her hands and smiled tenderly, "Don't apologize. I like seeing you this way."

Riddle's voice was so quiet just between the two of them in their little corner. His heart was thumping in his chest and yet he managed to speak so earnestly it almost scared him. He felt his face grow warm when he realized how close they were to each other and how Reine was now staring at him...actually more like staring into him with her dark, curious eyes. His brain screamed at him to move away but he was completely frozen.

"What way is that, Riddle?" she asked, unmoving herself and speaking just as softly.

The boy suddenly found it hard to breathe as he struggled to find the proper words, "Uh..just...I just like it when you feel comfortable around me. And everyone else too. It makes me feel good to know that you can be here and be yourself naturally. It feels...special." He felt his internal panic skyrocketing as every word that left his lips made the girl in front of him look more and more surprised. Their faces were so close that her warm, sweet breath tickled his as she hummed happily.

"You are someone very special yourself, Riddle Rosehearts...I'm so happy that I've met you."

The redhead nearly fainted as he felt his soul start to leave his body. The next moment was met with both overwhelming relief and internal rage crashing into the other as Cater popped up out of nowhere.

"Hey you two~ Sorry to interrupt," Riddle wasn't convinced, "but Miss Reine, you have a call on your phone? You left it by your teacup during the game earlier."

Riddle glared flaming hot daggers at the third year after Reine politely excused herself and thanked Cater for fetching her phone. The senior just grinned nervously at his dorm leader, "Now now, Riddle, let's calm down, shall we? You said you didn't want anyone to know right? You were getting pretty transparent there for a second..." Cater said in a hushed yet amused tone, making Riddle huff in flustered silence, "You're welcome~!"

Once Reine returned to her seat, she was met with Manari's smiling face via video call, "Helloooooo! You having fun over there, hmm? Well, we can talk about that later. Listen, Elise got an amazing idea for tomorrow and we gotta move fast! Elise is getting things moving as we speak! So...!"

The Mostro Lounge proper had a quiet oasis feeling to it after all of the excitement of the past few days. The dorm leader sighed contently in the silence as he sat in at this desk, counting and calculating number after number. His peace was short-lived much to his annoyance once Floyd burst through the door without knocking.

"Azul~ You have a special visitor, heheh~"

The octopus was about to scold the eel but stopped in his tracks when he saw the smiling girl standing in the dorm frame.

"Hello Mr. Ashengrotto," Elise said his name sweeter than normal which sent a shiver through him as she approached his desk, "Please pardon the intrusion but I need to speak with you."

The girl laid a stack of what looked like contract papers in front of him, her sweet demeanor never faltering as he looked up at her in surprise.

"I would like to make a mutually beneficial deal with you."

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

Tagging:

@foxwitchaine @iscarlettappel @aiimee9 @nuitthegoddess @1ndigowitch @wysteriadelights @victoria1676 @evieyouknow

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mxstball · 1 year

Text

There would be more portal madness, but at least this time it was reigned in this time. Many tiny portals would open up, and each one would drop a stocking stuffed to the brim with goodies... well, most of them did, anyways. Zinnia would receive an extra stocking filled with nothing but PP Ups and... a certain something else, as well as a note with "You know what to do with these." written on it. Tor would get several extra stockings, all filled with either Gloam's homemade treats or expensive-looking accessories (some of which had Catalyst Crystal, that'll be a fun surprise.) Vivienne would get an entire pot of mulled wine, still piping hot and fragrant with fruit and exotic spices. Zygarde, in addition to her stocking, would also get a bunch of tiny hats and scarves, presumably for her cells. Everyone else gets a normal stuffed stocking... except for Ray and Izanami, who both get titanium-filled boots, directly to the head. They're Legendaries, they can handle it. Additionally, Lacey would get a note: "Sorry about last time, enjoy. -Shichuurin"

As everyone were getting ready for the holiday, everyone quickly realized why it probably wasn't the best of ideas for Sky Pillar to be hosting a holiday party at this point: you never know who may show up.

And, this time, it was Round 2 from Shichuurin.

"Oh hey. Two stockings!" Zinnia looked in the stocking of goodies before storing them to be savored later (and for Salamence to not get too curious. "Niiice. Real nice. Wonder what's in the othe--"

Wait. Huh? Zinnia took out the PP Ups, the note, and the... object. For a second, Zinnia was perplexed, until it finally clicked. She knew who exactly to troll with these. Zinnia quickly chuckled maniacally "....Oh, old man. Oh, Wallace. Y'all don't know what's about to hitcha~. Whoever sent these, definitely like their sense of humor. Hehe."

Meanwhile, Tor was in her new room. Thankfully, Zinnia and Heidi went shopping for her, and allowed for her to stay alone for a little while so they could continue preparing the party... but what they hadn't told her was that the portal would return.

"W--wait! N--not again! Please I can't--"

Tor jumped quickly but, when the several stockings landed in front of her, Tor slowly dropped her guard. "...?" She slowly moved over to one of the stockings and opened it.

There were... sweets and goodies. Were they all... for her? Tor slowly ate one.

"!!!"

Tor quickly downed a few treats, but quickly stopped herself. She... she needs to hoard this. Tor quickly looked around and spotted the large fridge that Heidi placed inside. Tor wasted no time before opening the fridge, grabbing storage containers, organizing sweets by day, and stashing them.

These treats need to last.

However, in the middle of her ventures, she came across some accessories. "...?" Tor slowly grabbed a few of the accessories -- hair ties, earrings, brooches.... Some of these things seemed very intricate and difficult to make.

Were they... really for her?

"...." Tor... reached for the hair ribbons and replaced her well-worn ones. For the others, she placed in a cabinet for safe keeping. They seemed far too valuable to do anything else.

Meanwhile, in Kalos, Vivienne and Lilian were drinking tea together. Their holiday invitations were placed to the side as they discussed possibly attending.

"Sky Pillar already has but so much of one's brethren within its domain. One could not possibly show oneself with so many others--"

"Why, come now, dearest. There is no need to be so shy. It would be but a perfect time to get to know our extended family, even if it is for a short time."

"....B--b--b--but people-- So many peopl--"

THUNK! Each of them received a sudden stocking of goodies, and a fresh pot of mulled wine was placed right in front of the Lifelover.

Vivienne chuckled. "I was not aware that they would try to sweeten me up like this. Consider me enticed~"

"....?" Lilian was a little shook, but the sudden surprise and it looking inside of the stocking allowed it to lower her guard. "It seems that they are being quite friendly."

Vivienne chuckled and nodded.

"Tell you what.... Since I was planning to go anyway, why not stay with me throughout the party? We can chat with the others, have a drink or two, and, if at any point that you wish to leave after the first... thirty minutes, we will go. Okay?"

"..." Lilian sighed and nodded. "Very well then! One shalt do so."

In Sinnoh, Izanami and Cynthia were in Izanami's human home, looking at her own invitations to the holiday party. Honestly, while she wasn't surprised to see Cynthia's invitation, with all of the trouble she landed herself in this year, she was shocked that she received one of her own.

"Bede mentioned to me that he would come if I did, and Seth decided to join Lauren in coming as well. I think it would be a nice break in between the changing tides."

"Perhaps. I would have thought that they would have wished that I not join due to some of the trouble that I caused."

"Well, sometimes family support is above family troubles, you know." Cynthia chuckled. "Besides, knowing your daughter, I wouldn't be surprised if she already had something in mind to make up for that--"

And, if right on cue, portals opened up with two stockings in front of Cynthia -- one for herself and one for Seth. How cute... as for Izanami, a portal opened up and she was awarded...

... a boot to the head.

"AAHH-- What in the world--"

"Yup. Kind of like that."

Finally, back in Sky Pillar, Heidi, Rayquaza, and Aphrodite-Zygarde were finally taking a small rest by snuggling together. So much of the house was decorated and ready to go. Before long, the party was bound to start. Whether it was to be a large or a small party didn't matter, however. As long as Lillie enjoys it, then they did their job.

Then, some portals opened, causing the trio to rise and look. It was clear that Shichuurin was back.

Zygarde received hers first. There was a small stocking of goodies, but then a second present of a lot of small hats and scarves. They were too tiny for her in this form though. Could they be for--

!!!

Zygarde summoned a cell from another region and quickly dressed it with a little scarf. Oh, she looked so cute like this!

"Oh, that's kinda neat." Heidi was distracted before turning back to the second portal as her own stocking and note were there. "...Huh. Seems like Shichuurin really knows how to make up for her mistakes.... Either that or she really got an earful from somebody."

As for the last portal for Rayquaza---

A boot to the head.

!!!!

Critical Hit!

Rayquaza let out a roar of pain before letting out another roar of anger at the portal.

"...Pfffff...."

[!!!] Heidi quickly bursted into tears laughing so hard that she quickly lost her human form. [PFFFFFFHAHAHAHAHAHAHA----]

"Seems like someone received their just desserts~" Aphrodite continued laughing.

Grrrrr.....

#submission #padmahearts #muse zinnia #tor #vivienne #lilian #muse rayquaza #event: hoenn holiday #long post #// i'm fucking cackling #// happy holidays to you too lotus #alcohol mention #izanami #cynthia #muse heidi #zygarde

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | lila salt, so much salt

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life.

w.c | 8.1k

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass.

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it.

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?”

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess...

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared.

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.”

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child.

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.”

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate?

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain.

Was it...?

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps.

Perhaps it was possible.

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise.

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?”

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?”

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.”

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily.

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks.

No.

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again.

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead.

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them.

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!”

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines.

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?”

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.”

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for.

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support.

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl.

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,).

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything.

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed.

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

��─────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one.

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on.

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.”

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one.

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart.

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done.

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks.

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation.

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself.

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill.

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers?

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!”

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.”

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter.

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?”

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen.

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face.

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was.

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.”

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.”

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery.

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being.

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had.

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist.

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white.

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...?

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.”

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom.

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?”

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string.

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done.

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.”

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone.

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!”

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her...

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on.

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...”

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?”

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.”

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...”

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?”

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word.

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.”

A collective choir of groans rounded the class.

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?”

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely?

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed.

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?”

“... No.”

“...”

“... Maybe.”

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.”

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.”

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?”

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.”

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression.

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?”

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?”

This elicited another round of groans.

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally.

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery.

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam!

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled.

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette?

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right?

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point.

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft.

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other?

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.”

Alya was silent.

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes.

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?”

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally.

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates.

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job.

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.”

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom.

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?”

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.”

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know...

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.”

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.”

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row.

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.”

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him.

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?”

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered.

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.”

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in.

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled.

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea.

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?”

The class agreed, nodding along.

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president.

This is your problem now.

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“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?”

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?”

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly.

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.”

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?”

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile.

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—”

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.”

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’.

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?”

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice.

“Determination was always one of your good traits.”

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“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there.

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations.

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond.

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come.

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet.

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars.

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”

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this was both satisfying and tiring to write...

#ml salt #ml saltfic #saltfic #lila salt #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #[ris writes]—✧

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tobesobri · 3 years

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Traditions | 17.3k

a/n: it's been a while since I uploaded writing and for some reason I decided to sign up for this challenge and by some miracle actually managed to write something for it 🤯anyways, this is for the Valentine's Day Challenge by @1dffchallenges and it's honestly just a bit of fun, enemies to lovers little bit of angst and some smut! so i hope you enjoy! I'd always love to know your thoughts!! (also pls excuse any errors, I wrote this in a week with little editing lol)

prompt: doube date

dialogue: “So let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date for a Valentine’s Day Party?”

Pink and red were speckled throughout the entire office, whether it was a bouquet of chocolate roses, a banner of hearts, or stuffed bears residing next to bowls full of heart-shaped candies. Every employee’s section of the office had been filled to the brim with decorations as well. Pink and red ribbon taped carefully around the edges of their desktop computer, little store-bought balloons, also heart-shaped, grouped together and tied to desk chairs.

And Y/N, dressed in her typical all black outfit, rolled her eyes as she paced through the office toward the one section in the back that was immune to all things heart-shaped, pink, or stuffed.

She sat down at her desk with a loud sigh, her purse hitting the floor in its usual spot just before she slipped out of her jacket and draped it haphazardly between her back and the chair. It’d be wrinkled by the end of the day, but she didn’t care all that much, nor did she put much thought into the stains on her purse from leaving it on the floor. All she concerned herself with, after settling in, was getting straight to work… which was put on hiatus when she came face-to-face with both a pink and heart-shaped sticky note plastered onto the center of her computer screen.

Groaning, she ripped it off and moved to turn her computer on before she bothered to read whatever was written on the note. She considered three potential suspects while she pulled her keyboard down onto her desk and logged in. There was Kayla, who worked front reception and was one of the main culprits of all the Valentine’s decorations. A strong contender. It could’ve also been Ines or Carmen, her closest work friends whom Y/N knew both owned a pad of pink, heart-shaped sticky notes.

However, when she finally let her eyes fall to the note as her computer loaded up, the handwriting didn’t match any of the women she knew, and she was quite positive that none of them would have written was was sprawled out in black ink either.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I will fill your office with teddy bears and balloons, if you don’t send me your half of the proposal by two.

Harry.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin under her desk. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. Sure, she was nearly done with her portion of the work and would be able to send it to him before then, but now that he’d pestered her about it, he’d be lucky if she even bothered to send it to him at all.

She didn’t doubt the promise, i.e. threat, he made on the note, but being surrounded by teddy bears and balloons would be worth making Harry’s life just a tad miserable.

After opening all the apps she’d need to get her work done, namely Photoshop and Illustrator, she connected her drawing tablet and set up the rest of her work station for the day, both on screen and off.

Harry had worked at the company for about two years longer than her and she’d started off as an intern while she was still in college and, after graduating, was hired as a permanent graphic designer. They had never really gotten along ever since Harry—jokingly—asked her to get him a coffee once… or twice. Unfortunately for her, though, they ended up working well together and their boss had stuck them both on the same projects ever since. Especially after the month-long project last spring that had been their most successful one to date.

While she came up with the design parts of client projects, Harry handled the more technical side of things and they’d never really argued much over each other’s work even though they clashed constantly at a more personal level.

“I see your feeling festive.” Just as she’d gotten into the groove of her typical morning and had forgotten all about Harry’s stupid note, his voice interrupted her entire thought process. So when she swiveled around to find him leaning into her little office space, it was hardly a surprise when she glared at him, even though he feigned offense at her bitterness.

“You got my note, I presume.” He let himself into her space anyway, holding a mug of steaming coffee she was sure he’d just made in the workroom, and leaned up against the opposite side of her desk that housed a much larger, digital drawing tablet for when she needed to do more intricate design pieces.

She just swiveled back around to face her computer again and went back to work as if he was no longer there. Pretending to ignore his existence proved to be quite difficult when the very particular woodsy, vanilla scents of his cologne met her nostrils and filled her entire office. Not to mention, the sight of what he’d been wearing singed the backs of her eyelids so that she still saw him every time she blinked. It was as if her brain refused to let her forget what he looked like in his white button-up, sleeves rolled to the crooks of his elbows, all tucked into his fitted black trousers that tended to get the imaginations going of all the women in the building.

Not her though, of course. She was better than that. Obviously.

He cleared his throat, still very much present in her space and still very much giving her a migraine. “So will it be ready by two?”

“Well, I planned to send it to you before lunch.” She tweaked the spacing between letters of a potential logo for the millionth time. “But now… I think I might need the rest of the day.”

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was shifting his weight impatiently and running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was… displeased. “I told you I’m leaving early tomorrow and I need it no later than two.”

She cocked her head to the side, still staring at her computer screen and not giving him an ounce of satisfaction. “Did you tell me that?” She teased, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth when she heard him groan behind her. “I must’ve forgotten.” Shrugging, she went back to her work.

“Unlike you,” he snapped, “some of us actually have a love life and I’d appreciate you not fucking up mine.”

She froze then, only for a split second, when his words sank in. Two thoughts raced through her head. The first a string of curse words because of his assumption that she didn’t have a love life. But the more prominent and worrisome part of his statement was that he did have one. And that he was leaving early tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—so he could get ready for a date.

Throwing both her prickly exterior and heartbreaking smirk up again, she turned to face him. “I’ve known you for three years now and if anyone has the potential to fuck up your love life, it’s you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and her gaze fell to the hand that seemed to wrap a bit tighter around his Bugs Bunny mug. His knuckles whitened and she met his heated stare again, pleased with herself for getting him riled up before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

“So,” she continued before he get get a word of retaliation out, and sat back against her chair, crossing her legs confidently as she folded her hands in her lap. “Who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into going on a date with you this time?”

Harry had a terrible track record. The longest relationship he’d been in lasted for two months, and that was well before she’d known him. Everything else he had was just a one or two night thing and nothing more. Sure, it was all more than she had, but she preferred it that way. Harry seemed to resent the fact that he couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life.

“You don’t know her.”

Her smile widened. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Ooh, that just might be your second longest relationship, Styles.”

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

His jab didn’t have an affect on her however, and he knew it wouldn’t because it never did. He knew she didn’t give a damn about relationships, or at least that’s what she claimed anyway. He couldn’t think of many twenty-four year old women who actually wanted to be alone. He actually couldn’t think of a mid-twenties anyone who wanted that.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She said nonchalantly, which irked him even more than he already was, and then swiveled away from him one last time, picking up her drawing pen and getting back to work.

“What’s your issue with relationships?” He went on and she knew he was headed right down a path intended to hurt her feelings just as much as she had his. So, she tensed slightly and braced for impact. “Is it a commitment thing? Or can you just not find anyone to put up with you for longer than five minutes?”

She let his words sink their teeth in and then smiled to herself. “Hm. Seeing as you’ve been in my office now for,” she checked the time at the top right-hand corner of her screen, “eight minutes, maybe we should date.” She lifted a brow, awaiting his next response.

It felt a bit like a cat-and-mouse chase bickering with Harry and since she was usually the cat, it brought her way too much pleasure fighting with him.

He scoffed. “Like I’d lower my standards for you.”

That one hurt, she had to admit. Not out loud or to Harry, but it still stung because it was true. He’d have to drop his standards to the floor to even consider dating her and she knew it.

“Maybe,” she began, still half focused on her work, and ignored his comment all together, “some of us like being alone.”

“Nobody likes that.” He responded quickly and she heard a shift of his weight again and then his voice once more a few moments later. “It’s nice to be by yourself sometimes, yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t want someone to come home to at the end of the day.” He crossed one leg over the other as he gripped the edge of her desk for support and just when she thought he was done, he kept going, “Someone you can vent to about your annoying co-worker.”

She glanced at him through the little portable mirror hanging above her desk—mostly used to make sure she looked decent before meeting with clients or, sometimes, Harry—and saw the tight smile on his lips. Almost as if that’s what he wanted, like he was talking about himself and not her.

She’d slowed her progress down while he’d talked until she was no longer working at all. She no longer swiped her pen across the pad or had any idea what she was even doing when she focused solely on his words. Because, once again, whether he was talking about himself or about her, he was right.

“Yeah well,” she quickly hid herself back behind her wall and made her hands function properly again. “Some of us also don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.”

She imagined him smirking at that one because, buried deep within her words was a compliment. That he was handsome enough to actually have anyone he wanted.

Instead, when she glanced at the mirror again and found him, there was the complete opposite of a smirk on his face, and as he stared down into his mug, clearly lost in thought, she wondered what the tightness in his jaw and the frown pulling on his lips meant.

She sighed and stole his attention away from his coffee. “I’ll have it to you before lunch. You can go now, unless you’d like to argue some more and slow me down by another…” she glanced at her clock again, adding up all the time he’d been standing in her office, “fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, she listened to the drag of his footsteps as he finally left her office space. And although she was glad to be rid of his distraction, the room felt so much bigger and so much colder and emptier without him in it. Shivering, she slipped back into her jacket and spent the next few hours doing nothing but staring straight ahead at her screen as she made final adjustments to her designs.

Any other conversations with Harry were had over email as he worked in his own respective office, messaging her with every little concern he had in order to get his work done efficiently so that he wasn’t stressing to finish it tomorrow before he had to leave. Even though Y/N considered not responding to him a few times, just to spite him and slow him down for her own amusement, she found herself feeling guilty after leaving him hanging a couple times. Sure, she hated Valentine’s Day and everything surrounding it, but she’d almost hate even more the idea of both her and Harry being miserable tomorrow, so she inevitably gave in and cooperated with him. She’d probably regret it when he came back on Thursday spreading around the office all the gory details of his date, but at least he wouldn’t also be in a shitty mood. Her days were both boring and slow whenever Harry wasn’t having a good day. And although she’d blame it all on selfish reasons, it did also make her sad to see him frowning around the office and sulking when all she wanted to do was bicker with him and make him smile again, even just a little bit. But it was easier leaving him to his own devices than risk him finding out she cared about him enough to not wish sadness upon him.

She couldn’t say the same for him. Harry probably relished in the days she came into the office in a sour mood. He probably celebrated and threw a party whenever she was upset, and, even so, it didn’t change how she felt about him.

The sun had long set and most of the office was gone by the time she finally called it quits and began packing up her things and giving her computer a rest for the night. There were still quiet murmurs from other workaholic employees, which comforting her knowing she wasn’t completely alone in the building, since the last time she’d done that, it took everything in her not to have a panic attack all the way to her car.

Even though her boss told her countless times not to stay past five o’clock, as he told every other female employee that worked for him that he didn’t wish to see attacked after sunset in the city. Of course, when she was the only one who didn’t listen to him, he hired more guards and one of them rounded the corner into her office space, ready to escort her all the way down to her car.

“Figured you were still here.” He leaned against the walls of her cubicle and watched as she startled, twisting to meet his eyes for a moment before she settled and returned to slipping her belongings into her purse.

“I don’t need you to escort me.” Zipping her purse, she rose from her chair, checking one last time across her desk to make sure she’d grabbed everything she needed to take home with her before turning to him as he still lingered in the opening of her little office.

William had been hired a couple months ago, and was only a year older than her, but even so he was more than a foot taller than her and his biceps were about as big as her head. While the entire office drooled over him, she tended to keep her eyes and her thoughts to herself.

“You say that every night you stay late. Just let me do my job and shut up about it.” He smirked at her and when her eyes met his again, sharply, glaring at him, she groaned and whirled past him toward the elevators. He followed swiftly behind, knowing she’d close the doors on him if he didn’t keep close enough pace with her, mostly because she’d done it before.

As he took his spot beside her and she pressed the button for the parking garage at the basement of the building, a familiar voice rang out through the office.

“Wait!” As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough with William’s presence, his stupidly large arm held the elevator doors open as Harry slipped inside a moment later.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry said exclusively to William as he caught his breath and stood wedged in the middle between the guard and Y/N, who was inching closer and closer into her corner to get away from Harry.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” Harry asked, his attention solely on William again while the elevator took off down through the levels of their building. Not fast enough for Y/N, of course.

William sighed, crossing his arms and trying to resist smiling. “Me and my girlfriend take turns surprising each other every year. And it’s her turn this year… so I guess I have plans, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

Y/N whirled her head to glare up at the side of Harry’s face. “Speak for yourself.” She warned.

Harry just ignored her though. “What did you guys do last year?”

Again, William stifled a grin. “I had been saving up for a while and took us both to Paris.”

“Shit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose and Y/N rolled her eyes away from him, watching the LED screen above the elevator doors as they neared the bottom levels of the building. She knew Harry and William had become friends, mostly because Harry was annoying and befriended everyone. Except her, of course. She heard his stupid voice again and wished she could just transport herself directly into the front seat of her car and be done with the both of them. “And now she has to do better than Paris.”

Y/N glanced around Harry just in time to see William smirk and she should have known what was about to come out of his mouth before it did. “Well, I don’t consider much better than her mouth ar—“

Y/N cut him off. “Ew! Are you serious?”

Both men eyed her curiously just as the elevator came to a stop and, with a ding, the doors opened. She flew toward them quickly.

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

Again, she cut him off, turning once she was out on solid ground. “I’ll be fine, besides trying to rid my mind of that image you just burned into it.” She turned on her heel and headed off toward her car.

William made a move toward her and Harry grabbed his arm, “I’ll walk her. Forgot she’s a bit of a prude.” They shared an amused look and Harry jogged out onto the concrete and asphalt until he reached her side.

“I heard that, you know… and I know for a fact your car is not parked in this direction.” She seethed and he just smiled to himself, happier than ever that she was in the mood to bicker with him, because he wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet, where he’d have to wait till tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to see her again. And she wasn’t always the most talkative person on Valentine’s Day, either.

“Why are you the only female in our building not foaming at the mouth over him?” He asked instead, referring to William.

He heard her scoff. “Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have to be interested… or want to hear about his girlfriend sucking his—“

“Cock?” Harry finished for her and within a second she spun around to face him, forcing him to stop in his tracks just inches from her now. His smirk only grew when he saw just how quickly he’d gotten her all flustered.

And then, as they started each other down, the hardness in her face softened and she drew out a breath, forcing his eyes to fall to her lips and his smirk to fall from his mouth. He thought back to last spring, when there were numerous late nights with her just like this one. When he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked and he blinked a couple times before he lifted his eyes.

“Like what?” He furrowed his brows, trying to track down all the resentment he had for her but he couldn’t find it anywhere anymore. He couldn’t summon it and say something that would save his ass from being caught looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

Like he wanted to taste her and feel her against him, and hear what she sounded like when he tugged at her hair for more.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head, silencing the chaos going on in his brain. And then she turned, continuing the walk to her car with or without him, but, when she heard the echoing click of his shoes against the asphalt once more, she knew she wasn’t rid of him yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride back to my car, will you?” He easily stepped back into place beside her like nothing had happened.

She didn’t say anything for much longer than he was comfortable with. And then, finally, they reached her car and she sighed. “Get in before I change my mind.”

As she went for the driver’s side, he took quick steps to the opposite side, watching her over the top of her little Honda as she unlocked her door, and then, after clicking the button, his door as well. They both slipped in at the same time and while she fastened her seatbelt and settled in for her drive home, he sat perched with his backpack in his lap, knowing he’d be out of her car within only a couple minutes.

He still glanced around at his surroundings as she backed out of her parking space. “Should’ve guessed your car would be as neat as your desk.”

She didn’t say anything as she drove in the opposite direction of the exit toward the section of the garage Harry always parked in. It was closer to the elevators because he always came in before her and snagged a prime spot. She preferred an extra few minutes of sleep over walking an extra fifty steps.

And he started up again when she continued to not talk to him. “Most artists I know of are super messy.”

“I’m not an artist.” She gritted out through her teeth as she came to a stop once she spotted the rear-end of Harry’s BMW. Although she knew it well enough to distinguish it from the other black BMWs in the garage, it also helped that Harry had an old, faded license plate cover filled with a collage of cute pictures of puppies. He’d said it won him bonus points with women, but she also knew his screensaver at work was a picture of puppies as well, and no women he was interested in ever saw that.

He peeled his eyes off his car and looked over at her. “I know you can draw, too.”

She paused, gripping her steering wheel. She did enjoy both art and design and she knew Harry knew the difference between the two. She just didn’t know why he always insisted on bugging her about it.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make me an artist.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him just in time to find him shrugging a shoulder like he was agreeing to disagree. Even if she couldn’t draw, he’d still consider her an artist because the things she managed to design always blew his mind and if that wasn’t art…

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to get out, or do I have to drag you?”

He grinned, and it was almost as if her eyes refused to see anything else but his dimples and the bright whites of his teeth, and the birthmark to the side of his mouth…

“I’m going.” He assured, and yet he still hadn’t moved an inch. “Even though I’d love to see you try to drag me.” With her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, he chuckled and unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack, withdrawing his keys as he finally swung her door open.

Once he was out, he gripped the top of the door and leaned back in to find her staring straight ahead. “Drive carefully, yeah? Would be quite tragic for your bitter ass to die on Valentine’s Day.”

She reached over and, despite having to brush her knuckles along the side of his thigh, grabbed the handle of the passenger door and yanked. His body remained in her way, however, and he was unfortunately a lot stronger than her.

Then she finally looked up at him, and those thoughts he had earlier surfaced again as much as he’d tried to bury them. This time though, he didn’t fight it as he glanced at her lips once more, then back at her eyes, which had widened slightly just before the dimples reappeared in his cheeks. “And I guess I would miss bickering with you every day.”

With that, he was gone and she retreated back to her seat as he shut the door for her. She had no idea what to think about what had just happened. Why he’d looked at her like that again. What that look even meant.

By the time she reached the freeway, she’d convinced herself she was just seeing things. Harry wasn’t looking at her in any other way he had before when he was intent on pestering her. But, as she took in the scent of him still lingering in the cabin, she allowed a small part of her to hope she was wrong.

Her eyes fell on the man down the hall from her door as she slipped her key into the lock, her brows furrowing as she watched him. It wasn’t unusual for their paths to cross, as they tended to get home around the same time, but it was quite odd to see him sitting on the floor outside his apartment, his head in his hands.

They’d said hi to each other a couple times in the mailroom, but she definitely didn’t know him well enough to go up and ask what his issue was or try to fix it for him. And after it was confirmed that he hadn’t, in fact, lost his keys, as they sat beside him on the floor along with his phone, she figured it best to leave him be.

Turning her key, she pulled her gaze from him and disappeared from the hallway.

The second she was inside her apartment, she felt all the weight lift right off her shoulders, especially when her cat came racing up, screaming at her from the floor while also coaxing her toward the kitchen to fill the food bowl. Whatever was going on with her neighbor still very much on her mind, she tried to focus instead on relaxing and getting both her and the screaming Pretzel some dinner.

She tried to remember his name as she heated up leftover pasta. She knew it started with an A, but her brain was coming up short. So, while Pretzel crunched on his food in his corner of the kitchen, she tried her hardest to remember.

And it was no question why she cared so much. Her neighbor was someone she was actually interested in, and she had been since she first saw him. Of course, she was never foolish enough to think he was into her, but she still let herself fantasize. He was tall, nearly black curly hair atop his head always in a state of disarray, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen hidden behind his glasses. And, if she was being honest with herself, he was just a darker-haired version of Harry. Maybe that’s why she liked him.

The beeping of her microwave tore her thoughts from the dangerous path they’d been headed down. Harry’s voice rang in her head a moment later.

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

She’d needed to hear him say that, because sometimes her thoughts got carried away when it came to Harry and sometimes she did let herself be a fool who hoped. But after he’d said that one damning phrase, it was enough for her to stop. She didn’t meet a single one of his standards, inside or out.

Still, she tried her hardest not to go back out into the hall and make sure her neighbor was alright. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to and it wasn’t like she was doing anything important. Even if she didn’t have a dumb crush on him, as she did Harry, she still didn’t enjoy seeing him in the state he’d been in.

Before she could work up the nerve, however, a knock sounded through her quiet apartment.

She held her breath as she opened her door, really hoping it wasn’t the boy from across the hall, since she was still blanking on his name, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else knocking on her door this late into the evening.

So when she inevitably found him there, looking down at her through his annoyingly long lashes as she took in the horrible state he was in—red, inflamed eyes and hair that needed to see a brush rather than his hand—she completely lost her breath instead.

“Uh, sorry, I… saw you come in and I know we don’t talk and this is a weird thing for me to ask but…” He ran said hand through said messy hair and she found her breath again while looking up at him like she’d do whatever he’d asked just so he’d stop frowning.

He sighed, glancing down the hall toward his apartment and then met her curious and somewhat concerned gaze. “Can I come in?”

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

“Well, um, I was hoping you could help me with something and I’d rather not have the entire floor know about it.”

She was beyond confused now, but still, she stepped aside and let him pass, assuming that if he was actually a murderer he would have done her in a lot sooner than this. He had plenty of other opportunities. Plus, something in his face just… made her want to trust him.

She closed the door and turned to him, watching as his eyes scanned her kitchen and where her food still sat before he twisted around, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” And after clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you, um… what do you need help with?”

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple budge in his throat. “I don’t imagine you’ll like me very much after I ask but… I need a date.”

“What?” Again, she nearly flew out of her skin.

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, gauging her reactions and very obviously on the verge of seeing himself out and pretending this never happened. Instead, he stuffed away his pride and went on. “My ex… she, uh… well we broke up a few months ago and I saw her the other day and she’s seeing someone and we were talking and I… told her I was seeing someone too and so she invited me to go on this stupid double date with her… but the thing is… I’m not actually seeing anyone and I just told her that so she’d be jealous but she didn’t seem jealous at all and I don’t exactly have many friends to ask for help and I saw you and…” He rambled, but she managed to understand his predicament just fine.

“A double date? With your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. She’s… she does weird shit but… I still want her back.”

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. As much as she detested relationships, she was a sucker for other people’s relationships and she was definitely a sucker for her beautiful neighbor, even if he was asking to use her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“Not that I’m saying yes but… when? And where?” She finally asked after thinking things over for a moment.

“Tomorrow night… I can pay you. I will pay you, I mean… but, seriously, you don’t have to do it I just thought I would ask.”

“Where is this date at?” She repeated when he didn’t answer that part of her question.

“At this party… and bef—“

She cut him off. “Okay so let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”

He lifted a brow, “Well, there’s more… she wants to get dinner before going to the party.”

She shook her head, looking away, “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day…”

“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’ll pay for your dinner, too. Whatever you want. I just… really need your help and you’re my only option.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I’m not exactly…” she waved at her face and his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “I’m not easy on the eyes and I don’t think taking me will make anyone jealous.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at her incredulously. She shifted her weight nervously and he finally opened his mouth. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Her features scrunched up and she kept her eyes planted on the middle of his chest. And then he realized that she, in fact, did.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.” He also realized that using her to make his ex jealous would possibly hurt her more than it would help him and he could no longer fathom putting her through that. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.” He moved to walk past her, back to his apartment but she stopped him before he got far.

“No… I’ll help you.” And then she realized his identity was still somewhat of a mystery to her. “This sounds even worse than what you just asked me to do, but… I completely forgot your name.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.”

He smiled wider and nodded. “I know.” And then his face grew sad again. “I am really sorry I’m asking you to do this on Valentine’s Day, it’s definitely not my proudest moment.”

She waved him off. “I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do.” She didn’t bother brining up the whole payment thing. She didn’t really care about being paid. He was nice, the only nice person she’d encountered in her apartment building and if getting him back together with his ex meant she’d never have to come home and see him in the fetal position on the floor again, she’d suffer through a date and a party on her least favorite holiday.

It was somehow even worse than it’d been yesterday. The decorations seemed to triple in size. Not an inch of the office was untouched by something pink and she prayed whoever had put up even more decorations had spared her little cubicle.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” One of the receptionists most responsible for the overflowing decor, Kayla, called her over to her desk not even a minute after Y/N had arrived. And she stalked over until she saw the package Kayla pulled out that instantly lifted her spirits.

She stopped in front of Kayla’s desk and took the thin box from from her, already knowing what it was and thanking god for the timing so that her entire day wasn’t completely miserable. It was a new drawing pad she’d ordered, a bigger one that she hoped would be a bit more efficient to use than her current one.

Even with her back turned to the rest of the office, she sensed Harry’s presence long before he stopped beside her with his mug in hand.

He lifted a brow at the package in Y/N’s hands just as she reluctantly turned to look at him. “Getting gifts sent to the office? That’s a first.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the box under her arm, holding herself back from running off to her office to set it up. “Jealous?” She cocked her head.

And instead of his condescending smirk and a hateful response to go with it, the sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade as he eyed the box again, genuinely worried now that it was actually a gift from someone.

Before either could say anything, they all turned to find a delivery man walking up to Kayla with a giant bouquet of flowers in tow. And so it began. Although, when Kayla took the vase from the man eagerly, a bright smile on her face because Kayla loved love a little too much, Y/N couldn’t help but think about Adam. About how the only time she’d managed to get a date on Valentine’s Day was when it wasn’t even real. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to help her cute neighbor win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for a free dinner.

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

She felt Harry watching her, too, while she eyed the bouquet of flowers as they departed reception with Kayla and made their way to their recipient. As stupid as she found everything about the holiday, she couldn’t help but want someone to send her flowers. To give her anything for that matter. To have thought about her for at least a second of their day. Harry cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away.

“So… what’s in the box?”

“None of your business.” She rounded him, heading to her office, but he grabbed her free arm to stop her short and didn’t speak until she met his gaze again.

“Can we meet up in my office to finish the proposal? Think it’ll be easier to get it done than over email.”

She had every reason to be suspicious of him. They almost never worked in each other’s offices. When they did work together, which was often, it was in one of the empty conference rooms and it was usually at the beginning of the process when they needed the space to plan things out. The last time they’d really been in each other’s offices was last spring. Figuring he just wanted to get things done so he could be out of the office on time, she let it go.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He watched her walk away, watched her even as Kayla returned and noticed his gaze and giggled at him as she took her spot back behind her desk.

“It was something she ordered for herself, by the way.”

“What?” Harry whipped around again, not having even realized the other woman until now.

“I know you two pretend to hate each other but I see the way you look at her, Harry.” Kayla lifted a brow at him as she began typing on her keyboard.

He feigned disgust. “I’m seeing someone, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He insisted. “I have a date. Tonight.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay… I’m just saying.”

“I don’t look at her.”

Kayla suppressed a smile and snorted instead. “If you say so. I guess you didn’t also sneak into her office this morning, either.”

“I think all these flowers and stuffed bears and heart-shaped things have gotten to your head.” He pointed around to the decor littering her desk while holding his mug steady.

Kayla met his eyes and her smile slipped off her face. “Harry, please don’t mess with her.”

His face screwed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t like her then don’t lead her on.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of being led on.”

Kayla froze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that either. “Why are you being weird?”

“Because,” Kayla sighed, brushing her curled brunette hair onto one shoulder and then lowered the volume of her voice. “I happen to know she doesn’t think very highly of herself and I’d rather not see her get hurt, especially not by you.”

Now Harry froze. The hand that gripped his mug tightened and he didn’t even flinch as it began to burn his skin. He heard Y/N’s voice in his head then as he drowned out his surroundings.

Some of us don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.

He had instantly regretted what he’d said to her yesterday when she’d told him that. And now hearing Kayla, in a way, confirm what he’d read between the lines of Y/N’s words… his chest tightened in quite possibly the worst way ever. He’d hated himself most of the day after telling her he’d never lower his standards for her and he could say he was just bickering all he wanted, but he knew now for certain she took it the wrong way. And he wished more than ever that he hadn’t said something so horrible to her, especially when it was the farthest thing from the truth.

And the real truth, that he was trying desperately to shove away with stupid remarks like that, was that he didn’t meet her standards. She wasn’t into relationships and he knew he wasn’t good enough to change her mind.

“How do you know that?” He finally asked.

“That Christmas party last year… she’s a really happy drunk until she’s not.”

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get into it, mostly because I don’t think she remembers and would probably kill me if I told you but… just leave her be.”

He hardened back up again. “She does’t have any interest in relationships anyway, ‘specially not with me.”

Kayla scoffed. “She’s a really good liar.”

Harry stood there for a few more moments, feeling as if his life had just gotten flipped upside down. He’d been in such a good mood mere minutes ago before his dumbass waltzed into reception all because he’d seen Y/N. Because, despite everything and despite the fact he was already attempting to date someone else, it was Y/N he wanted to be close to all the damn time. Groaning, he turned on his heel and left for his office, hoping she wasn’t there waiting for him so he could have a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

In a hurry to open her package, Y/N slumped down into her chair tossing her purse on the ground at her feet and pulling out her box cutter in a rush of movements. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the little stuffed frog, the box of chocolates and envelope sitting on the other side of her desk near her mouse. Instead, she unboxed her new tablet and began setting it up, not noticing the gifts until she went to turn on her computer. And then she froze.

With reluctant hands she grabbed the envelope first, her name printed on it in perfect cursive. She knew nobody in the office who had such good penmanship. Opening the card in hopes of finding out who had placed the items on her desk, instead, she just found it signed as ‘secret admirer.’ Rolling her eyes, she set the card down and realized it had to be from her boss. Sometimes he remembered to go around and give everyone little gifts on the holidays. Obviously he’d remembered this year.

She dug into the chocolates as she set up her tablet and began calibrating it to suit her needs before finally testing it out in the little bit of time she had before she needed to make her way to Harry’s office.

And once that time came, she left everything in its place, besides the box of chocolates, which she continued to pick at while she made her way through the room. What she didn’t notice while stuffing her face with candy was that… no one else had a stuffed frog or chocolates or a cheesy little card on their desks.

She rounded the corner into Harry’s office, which was a real office and not a cubicle that he usually shared with one other person who was thankfully out with clients for the day. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention after just watching him focus on his screen for a moment. Harry was cute when he was focused.

But then he turned to her and his eyes fell to the box in her hand.

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out toward him. “Do you want some? I think Andrew was feeling generous this year.”

Harry’s eyes quickly panned up to hers and his brows furrowed as if she’d just punched him in the gut. And she couldn’t make out what that expression meant no matter how hard she tried.

“He didn’t give me anything.” Harry motioned around his desk.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.” She shrugged, setting the chocolates down on his desk while she grabbed his office mate’s chair and pulled it up beside him.

Harry sighed, turning to his computer for a moment and then watching her from his peripheral while she picked out another piece of chocolate. “I didn’t see anyone else with chocolates on their desks this morning.”

Y/N just shrugged. “There was a frog too. And a card.”

“And why do you think he’d give you all of that and no one else?” Harry hoped she’d get the hint but he didn’t hope too hard. She was still Y/N after all. And he really didn’t mean to sound so bitter… well, okay, he did. But he knew she’d misplace his bitterness, crushing what little hope there was to bits.

“Maybe he likes me better than all the rest of you.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he put his attention back on his screen.

“No one else in this office would give me a card signed as a secret admirer so… maybe I did something I don’t remember doing and he’s thanking me?” Now that she really thought about it, and if Harry was right… then it really didn’t make much sense. It’s not like she was Andrew’s favorite employee.

Harry just lifted a brow and then pretended to lose all interest.

Sensing the tension, she slipped the box closer to him. “Here. I think you need a knock-off Snickers if you expect me to work with your grumpy ass.” He made no move to indulge her, however. And so she went on, continuing to poke the bear. “Why are you in a lousy mood anyway? Isn’t this your favorite holiday? And you get to leave early.”

His eyes fell from his screen and he stared at the brick of sticky notes below his monitor before mumbling, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

Taken aback, she searched what she could see of his face for answers to what he was apologizing for. He’d said a few things she could imagine deserved an apology and yet, so did she. Maybe she should have been the one to apologize to him first.

“I didn’t mean to say what I did.” He finally turned to meet her face on. He’d hoped the frog and the chocolates would have been atonement enough, but considering she thought they were from their boss and not him, he just had to suck it up and actually say what he meant.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can be a prude sometimes.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head, “No that’s not… I meant what I said earlier in your office… about lowering my standards. It was a stupid thing to say and not true in the slightest.”

But then she smiled and he grew confused. “Yes it is. It’s okay to have standards, you know.”

“I know that. But if we… I wouldn’t have to lower my standards. And it was cruel of me to have said that to you.”

She couldn’t stand looking at him any longer and averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Well it doesn’t matter so… can we just get this proposal done?”

He’d wanted to spend how ever long it took to convince her that it did, in fact, matter, but Y/N was persistent, more so than him, and so he’d given in and they moved on to being productive with their time. And in less time than he’d anticipated their proposal was finished, being sent off to Andrew for approval before their presentation at the end of the week with their clients.

Harry sat back in his chair and she returned her own to the other desk where it belonged, all while he watched her.

“What do you do on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, just trying to get her to stay longer, knowing that if those were his true intentions, then he was fucked. That he wanted to be around Y/N, even though he was seeing someone else, albeit for just a week so far, even though she’d never want the same from him.

Maybe he was just as terrible with relationships as she claimed if he always chased after what he couldn’t have.

“That is also none of your business.” She grabbed her box of chocolates from his desk, his voice pinning her in place again though.

“Let me guess… it involves chocolate, your cat, and the most anti-romantic movies you can find?”

He would not think her very prudish if he knew what else she did on Valentine’s Day while alone in her apartment, but she figured it was best to keep that to herself. Instead, she smiled at him. “Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes and threw his arms up behind his head as he laid back in his chair, watching her curiously like he was trying to figure her out. Meanwhile, she was trying to not make it obvious she was staring at his biceps as they just about bulged from underneath the sleeve of his pink button-up. He’d done it on purpose though, so as much as she tried to hide it, he still grinned with satisfaction when she became flustered.

“Well, have fun with that, then.” He nodded, and for a moment while she was lost in his eyes and growing embarrassingly hot, she wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew exactly what not-so-innocent things she did on Valentine’s Day. Then he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and watching as she rolled her eyes, held her chocolates close, and left his office.

Adam arrived right when he said he would at five-thirty. It had given her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and into one of the few dresses she owned, to at least seem somewhat convincing that this was a real date. She also fixed her makeup and put on a pinkish-nude lipstick before switching out her bulky purse for a smaller crossbody.

When she opened the door to him, he most certainly did not disappoint. She almost let herself get lost in the delusion that it was a real date when she saw him dressed to the nines and cleaned up for the first time since she’d known him. And she especially got a little lost in it when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know.” He gave her a once over when she wasn’t looking. “You didn’t have to do this for me either.”

She quietly accepted the flowers and let him in while she found a vase and filled it with water. He leaned on the counter, watching her as she did so.

“You look… beautiful, by the way.” He blurted out once she had cut and placed the stems into the vase. Her hands froze, though, and when he met her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re paying me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous. Please don’t flatter me.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, although he was beginning to wonder if the bigger mistake was not taking her out on a proper date that had nothing to do with his ex.

She sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse. “Let’s go then.”

He went over all the final details on the Uber ride to the restaurant. Things about his ex he thought Y/N should know about. And he made sure she knew, for about the hundredth time, that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she reminded him for an equal amount of times that she never did anything she didn’t want to do. So, settling that, he helped her out of the back of the Uber when they arrived and opened the door to the restraint for her as well. Everything that she’d expect from a normal date, which only left her disappointed when she reminded herself it wasn’t.

She waited quietly, and tried to catch her nerves, while Adam talked to the hostess and gave her his ex’s name for the reservation. The place was packed and anyone who didn’t call ahead surely would not be getting a table tonight. She’d never been out on Valentine’s Day, though, so it was like stepping into a brand new world for her. And as she followed both the hostess and Adam, she paid more attention to all the couples enjoying their meals than anything else.

Except for when he reached back and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers just before they came to a stop. She blinked her eyes at their hands for just a moment before he gently pulled her around next to him. And whatever way she’d felt about holding Adam’s hand went right out the window when she locked eyes with Harry.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she expected to find, while Laura, the gorgeous blonde ex-girlfriend, stood to hug Adam, was Harry fucking Styles. And what a fucking coincidence it was, almost as if this was her karma for feeling the need to constantly help people.

Adam’s hand slipped from hers but she didn’t even notice it anyway. She and Harry still stared each other down and neither of them moved a muscle either. Well, besides the one in his jaw as it tightened. Then he did move, glancing over at Adam with a blank expression before landing his gaze back on her again. And then his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him and she felt like she’d been released from chains he’d tied around her wrists.

“This is Y/N,” Adam’s hand went to the small of her back, guiding her forward to meet his ex-girlfriend and Harry’s current… whatever they were.

Laura held out her hand, her smile a little too forced. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She ushered them to the table as she took her spot beside Harry again. Adam, of course, took the chair opposite Laura, which left Y/N in the one opposite Harry.

This would be a long, hellish night.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was thinking. That maybe she’d come to crash his date. Or, even worse, that he’d already figured the whole thing out. That Adam was paying her to be here. She really hoped he’d never find out because it was just embarrassing enough to make her want to change her name and move across the country, thousands of miles away from him. Harry finding out that she couldn’t get a real date to save her life… beyond humiliating.

“This is Harry.” Laura motioned to him and he just barely lifted his gaze, nodding at Adam and ignoring Y/N entirely. “You know,” the blonde went on, glancing between Adam and Y/N, “I was a little shocked when you told me you were seeing someone again.”

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?”

Y/N left all the talking to him. Mostly because she was still in shock that she was sitting across from Harry. And she hadn’t even taken the time to properly take him in and realized he’d also changed his clothes since work. Swapping his wardrobe out for a fitted black button-up, that wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top as his shirts normally were. The sleeves were already rolled to his elbows. He’d shaved off the scruff along his jaw as well and fixed his hair so that it was combed back out of his face, although a a couple rebellious strands hung down onto his forehead. He looked… like absolute perfection. And he was being forced to be on a date with the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was seeing and his annoying co-worker. She felt terrible for him.

“Oh, uh, well we live on the same floor.”

Laura nodded, clearly anticipating more. “Is that it?”

Y/N felt Adam tense up beside her and so she took over, easily spinning a lie. “I ran out of milk one night a few weeks ago. He’s the only one who answered the door.”

She noticed a flash of movement in her peripheral and turned to find Harry’s gaze on her again, one eyebrow lifted curiously. He was either wondering how she hid it so well, or trying to figure out what to ask in order to reveal their ploy. He never said anything, though.

“Sorry, um,” Laura’s tone changed as she glanced between Harry and Y/N, both of them looking away when the other girl interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

Harry grinned, sitting back against his seat and folding his hands in his lap. “Something like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We work together.”

“Really?” Although her tone said otherwise, Laura’s face said everything about how she felt upon hearing that bit of information.

Adam twisted his worrisome gaze to Y/N, but she ignored it. Harry, however, did not.

“Don’t worry, mate. I was under the impression she was celibate up until now.” With that, Y/N kicked him under the table and he sat forward to swallow the groan that very nearly left his lips after she’d jabbed him in the shin with the toe of her heels. “Guess she’s really good at hiding things, though.”

Adam just chuckled nervously and Y/N shot him an apologetic smile, trying to reassure him that this date would still work out despite Harry.

“What a small world.” Laura laughed, trying to break the tension but dinner hadn’t even started yet.

Sometime during the main course, Laura excused herself to the bathroom and Y/N almost, in a desperate attempt to flee both Adam and Harry, invited herself along. But she figured it’d be worse to be alone with Laura than with them. Laura might ask questions she wasn’t prepared for. So, she stayed put, as much as it pained her to do so.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Harry asked suddenly and she wanted to kick him again. Mostly because his tone was that of a jealous teenager and he’d waited until Laura was gone to pester her ex-boyfriend who most certainly did not deserve Harry’s pestering.

“Oh, uh, I’m an artist. I work for an animation studio at the moment but I’m trying to get into freelance.”

Harry’s eyes shot to the suspiciously quiet girl sitting across from him. “So is Y/N.”

Adam turned to look at her, but she just glared at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Harry titled his head as he narrowed his attention in on Adam again. “So you’ve known her for a few weeks and you never asked what she did?”

“Harry.” Y/N warned, trying to kick him under the table again but he dodged out of the way.

“Well… she said she was in graphic design… not art.” She had told him that, during their crash course yesterday while they got to know as much as they could about each other in a span of a couple hours.

“I think it’s the same thing.”

Adam just shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I could be a designer, though. Most artists make what they think looks good, designers create things to appeal to customers.”

“Just ignore him.” Y/N advised and Harry was the one shooting her daggers and attempting to stomp his foot on top of hers under the table this time.

“You and Laura used to date then? She never told me how you split up.” Harry moved on.

Adam swallowed nervously. “She broke up with me.”

“Why?” Harry pushed and Y/N looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which he ignored.

“I, uh… I had a drug problem for a while. I was not the best person to be around sometimes. But after we broke up, she helped me with rehab and everything.”

“Guess that explains why you’re on such good terms.”

Now Y/N really wanted to do more than just kick him.

Adam grabbed Y/N’s hand under the table and pulled her straight from her violent thoughts about Harry. And he didn’t lace his fingers between hers, instead, it felt as if he had just been looking for something to ground himself with. And her hand resting on her lap was the closest thing he could find. It didn’t, however, go unnoticed by Harry and his jaw clenched as he stared at the point in the table where, just below, there their hands met almost as if he was trying to set everything on fire.

Laura returned shortly after that.

As promised, Adam paid the entirety of both his and Y/N’s bill, even though she attempted to snag it from him, seeing as the date had gone to shit and it was all her fault. Well… maybe it was also Harry’s fault a little bit too. But she definitely did nothing to make Laura jealous. Adam, on the other hand, did a great job at making Harry jealous just by existing and being Laura’s ex, whom she was still friends with.

The four of them stood outside on the curb awaiting their Uber after dinner was over, agreeing upon splitting one car to get to the party instead of taking two. Laura was apparently very cautious about fossil fuel consumption.

Y/N shivered as she stood between Adam and Laura, wishing she’d bright a jacket instead of relying on a long-sleeve dress to keep her warm. Then an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Adam pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm to form heat. She tensed up, though, forming into an immovable brick. She had no idea the last time she’d been that close to another person, let alone a member of the opposite sex. When he felt her go rigid, he leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “Is this okay?”

She just nodded and tried to relax. Which turned out to be quite easy because Adam was warm and he smelled nice. She, of course, didn’t let her mind wander off too far. He was still in love with his ex. He’d still shove cash into her hand at the end of the night for her troubles and go on with his life.

Adam let go of her when the car pulled up and quickly went to the passenger door to confirm with the driver. Then he opened the back door for the three of them to climb in, Laura going first, then Harry, and, at last, Y/N, while Adam slipped into the front seat beside the driver.

While the car took off, Y/N was shoved into the corner when Harry moved closer to her in order to find both his and Laura’s seat buckles in the dark. Eventually, he settled back into the middle and gave her some space again. When she made no move to do the same as them, Harry turned to look down at her.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

Her eyes whirled up to his. Wordlessly, and of course after rolling her eyes, she grabbed her seatbelt and he made room for her to buckle it in. Then she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared out at the traffic through her window.

She would have stayed in that exact position the entire trip, too, if Harry’s knee didn’t insist on bumping into hers constantly. And she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When she glanced up at him, and found the corner of his lips curl upward, she figured it was, in fact, purposeful. So, with the hand closest to him as her arms were still crossed, she poked him in the side, right against his ribs, hoping it hurt.

“Ouch.” He whined, covering the spot with his hand dramatically. Everyone in the car glanced at Harry, all except for Y/N who snickered as she returned to staring out the window.

Harry wasn’t giving up, though. This time, with his arms crossed in his lap, and glancing at Laura to be sure she wasn’t watching, he walked his pointer and middle finger up the outside of Y/N’s thigh, close enough to her hip to make her squirm slightly when his touch tickled her. And as soon as he got her attention, he looked down at what he was doing and pressed his middle finger against her, meeting her gaze with a smirk.

In the same moment, the driver turned up the music in the car as they waited tirelessly at a red light. It was better than silence or listening to his passengers breathing. But Harry mentally thanked him and turned his attention back to Y/N, leaning into her slightly until his lips were at her ear and she shivered for an all new reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” He whispered for her ears only. The music was especially loud in the back and he wasn’t sure Y/N had even heard him.

Especially since she didn’t respond right away. But how could she? Harry’s fingertips were still grazing her thigh, as if trying to emphasize the dress she had on. And his stupid knee was pressed right up against hers. She couldn’t think straight.

Though when she finally turned to him and whispered back, “Don’t get used to it,” he knew she had, in fact, heard him well enough.

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.”

She hated that there were butterflies in her stomach. That he was saying such odd things to her when his date was sitting just on the other side of him. The date who most definitely met all Harry’s standards.

Huddling away from him, she stuck her eyes out the window and kept them there the rest of the trip.

It was just past eight when they arrived, a fifteen-minute trip up through the city taking half an hour due to all the Valentine’s Day traffic. Another reason she hated this holiday.

The party was being held by Laura’s best friend, who’s name Y/N did not care to commit to memory. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, though, Harry stood close to Laura, his arm wrapped around her waist and Adam to Y/N, although he didn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did, but she figured it was best to keep those boundaries in place anyway.

Pink and golden balloons littered the ceilings of the penthouse. The drink cups were also pink, as was the communal punch bowl that Y/N steered clear of, having no idea what was in it, or who had already spiked it. She knew nobody at the party besides who she’d come with, though she assumed both Adam and Harry were somewhat acquainted with Laura’s friends.

It was most definitely not someplace Y/N ever saw herself being at, not only because it was a Valentine’s themed party, but also because she wasn’t exactly comfortable around so many people. Especially when those people were all so unfamiliar to her.

“Here,” Adam handed her a drink and then grabbed one for himself. She downed the thing in one go, needing to take the edge off. It might’ve been a slight mistake when the alcohol burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care too much when she grabbed another.

Then he was leading her into the dancing pit of bodies where they huddled close enough so that his lips were at her ear. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She glanced over at where Laura and Harry had been left, finding both her hazel eyes and Harry’s green ones glued to the both of them. She wasn’t sure what Harry’s deal was, but this was her moment to fix things and make Laura jealous, so, turning back to Adam, she nodded.

He eased his hands onto her waist as they began swaying to the music. And then he pulled her closer, his hands slipping to the small of her back as her arms wrapped around his neck, being careful with her own movements even though she desperately wanted to sink her hands in his hair.

And, god, he smelled so good as her head rested in the crook of his neck. And he felt good, too, as he moved against her body. She knew it wasn’t real, and that the alcohol was making skewing her perception of things, but it was still nice. Nice to be held and to just let go for a change.

Over Adam’s shoulder, Y/N caught Harry’s eyes again. His jaw clenched and he looked the same as he did back at the restaurant. Angry. And then she realized that maybe she wasn’t really trying to make Laura jealous anymore at all, but rather Harry.

It was dumb, she knew that. He’d have to like her in order for her to make him jealous. But… the way he was looking at her. The way he had looked at her. His eyes lingering too long on her lips. What he’d done in the car ride here.

She heard Adam in her ear again. “I think it’s working. She just stormed off into the kitchen.” Then he pulled away and she realized she hadn’t even seen Laura. Just Harry. Harry and his stupid, obnoxious green eyes.

“You owe me more than just dinner.” Y/N teased but Adam grew serious.

“I know. And since you refuse to accept my money, I’ll have to figure out another way to repay you.” He smiled and then twirled her around so that she no longer had any line of sight toward Harry. He pulled her close again, one hand going to her waist while the other stayed locked to one of hers. “Suppose I could start with making your coworker just as jealous… although I think he already is.”

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him.

“Oh, come on! He was ready to rip my head off when he realized I’d grabbed your hand. And when I put my arm around you? I thought I might be better off just giving you my jacket and freezing to death instead.”

“I don’t…” she shook her head in disbelief. It was one thing for her to be pretending to make Harry jealous in some delusional hope that it’d work. But this… this was a whole other thing.

“I’m actually quite interested to see what he does if I kissed you.”

She was shocked at first and then, possibly due to the alcohol, just as interested. “Are you asking my permission?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

Adam’s eyes scanned the room and Y/N realized he hadn’t asked to kiss her for Laura’s sake at all.

“She is.” He finally announced.

Without any more second guessing, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of his neck and pulled him in. As soon as their lips collided and she tasted the alcohol on him, she knew that she’d never agreed to this without it. Or maybe she would. Adam spun them back around again, deepening the kiss as her eyes opened and fell into the direction she’d last seen Harry.

He was still there.

Still watching.

His hands in fists. His jaw tightened into a crisp line. His nostrils flared. His eyes… sad.

She pulled away. Adam steadied her, grabbing her shoulders when she swayed. But, as she caught her breath, the dizziness went away.

“I’m going to find the bathroom.” She told him and after he nodded, she left, forming a rift for herself through the bodies that danced all around them until she was in the clear. Then she was avoiding Harry as she walked past him, not so sure his gaze was still set on her. Maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t often just kiss people for no good reason and that’s exactly what she’d just done with Adam. She barely even knew him.

She didn’t exactly need the bathroom, just an open, empty and quiet place. And so, she fell back against a wall in the foyer and ran a hand through her hair.

“That was quite the show.”

She startled at the sound of his familiar voice and looked up just as he stopped a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe that that you, anti everything to do with this holiday and with relationships and romance, are actually dating that guy?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” She crossed her arms, willing to go as far as she needed to before she let Harry see the truth. That she was that pathetic.

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to respond and she flinched.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have a hard time believing that someone may actually like me.” She had no reason to nearly be shouting at him and no reason to be saying what she was because Adam didn’t like her.

“That’s not what I said. It’s hard for me to believe you just dropped all your ideas about relationships for some guy with obnoxious blue eyes.”

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

Y/N hesitated. Hating that the truth was about to boil over out of her mouth for him to see all the embarrassing bits of it, but she had no other way of convincing him. And it didn’t really help that Adam was so far out of her league that it wasn’t even convincing to begin with. Nor did she want to convince Harry of anything either. It was clear now that he hadn’t been jealous, he was just trying to figure out when she stopped hating relationships so much.

And the truth of that was she never really hated them. It was just easier telling herself she didn’t want it than admitting no one ever actually wanted her.

She trembled, not even sure why, but he was making her incredibly nervous, so much that she wished she could rewind and stay squished next to him in the back of the car forever. Being that close to him... his stupid fingers on her thigh, whispering things in her ear that made her head spin. She’d much prefer that than standing in front of him now, seeing every ounce of judgment he was about to throw her way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the white marble floors between them, focusing on calming her anxiety while she was no longer looking at him. “He needed a date and I felt bad for him.”

“What does that mean?”

Letting her head fall back against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling this time as her eyes burned with embarrassment. “He paid me to be his date so his ex-girlfriend didn’t find out he wasn’t actually seeing anyone. That’s what it means.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” She folded her arms, looking down at the floor again, still unable to meet Harry’s eyes and see the look that would be on his face. A smirk of amusement at her expense. Even probably his dimples, taunting her and turning her into the joke she already was. “You were right. I can’t find anyone to tolerate me, which is why I’m on this stupid date that isn’t even real.”

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

There was more exasperation than humor to her laugh. “It wasn’t.”

Harry seemed to finally understand. “He’s trying to make Laura jealous.”

Y/N just nodded. “I promise I didn’t know you were going to be there, that he was trying to get her back from you.”

“You still kissed him though.”

She couldn’t argue that, nor could she tell him the real reason she’d agreed to the kiss. That it wasn’t exactly Laura she was trying to make jealous. She’d never live that one down, if she ever managed to live any other aspect of this night down.

When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “Why did you kiss him?”

“I’m sorry, Harry I just... I don’t know.”

He shook his head and took another step, making her eyes widen when he was close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. “Seemed like you were trying to make me jealous.”

She swallowed, not exactly in the position to laugh it off and argue with him when he was this close and all she could feel were the traces of his fingertips on her thigh. Her voice was quiet when it finally came out. “Making you jealous would mean I assumed you liked me in the first place... which I’m definitely not stupid enough to assume.”

A crease formed between his brow and his stupidly perfect jaw hardened as if he was biting his tongue from saying something. And fuck him for choosing then to finally stop opening his mouth.

Just then, a pair of drunk guys, one on the other’s back, came racing through the foyer, screaming at the top of their lungs while a few others followed quickly after them. It was enough to force Harry away from Y/N again, enough for the both of them to step out of the little bubble they’d been in together the past ten minutes.

Once they were alone again, their eyes gravitated toward each other and just when she thought Harry might say something after all, he flipped around on his heel and left. And she watched as he turned the corner and mixed back into the party.

After a few moments to gather herself, she followed him, not exactly sure what she was going to do now that Harry wouldn’t talk to her and it felt weird being with Adam while Harry knew everything. But, whatever plans to keep herself occupied no longer matted when she spotted Laura.

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room.

Without even thinking, she turned to locate Harry and he might as well have been a source of gravity because her eyes fell right to him within a second. And he was watching them too. He knew.

He met Y/N’s eyes and she wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not. She couldn’t really read anything on his face, and stopped attempting to when he moved towards her and she had other things on her mind, like where he was going and if he was going to bother taking her with him.

Shortly after he stormed past Y/N she made sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind and chased after him. She didn’t know Adam very well and definitely not Laura to want to stay with them. And everyone else in the room were complete strangers to her. Adam had promised he’d take her home, but he probably hadn’t expected to be making out with his ex by the end of the night, either.

Harry didn’t say anything, not even when they’d reached the foyer and Y/N asked where he was going. He just located his jacket and slipped it on before making his way out the front door.

And right when she thought he really was going to leave her behind, since she was the reason he’d just lost Laura to her ex, he held the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her while she still stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Are you staying?”

Without a word, she sprung into motion and trailed right behind him into the hallway like a lost puppy, letting the door shut behind her that cut them off from the music as it faded into the background behind them.

It was a silent trip down the elevator, mostly because she had no idea what to say that would sound sincere and he didn’t say anything at all. At least not until she followed him through the lobby until he stopped on the curb just outside the main doors.

She took up the spot next to him, eyes glued to the side of his face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, or at least as fresh as traffic allowed it to be.

Then he spoke, and it seemed like the first time she’d heard his voice all night. “I’m the one who gave you the chocolates and the frog.”

She narrowed her eyes, both not exactly sure why he’d just said that or if he was even being serious. “What?”

He looked down at her. “It wasn’t Andrew, it was me.”

“Why?” She breathed and while she was positive she’d be freezing cold soon, the fresh air after being surrounded by so many people felt good. It felt freeing and she wondered if he felt that way too.

His eyes scanned hers before he looked away. “Well partly to apologize for what I said.”

“What’s the other part?”

Sighing, he turned his entire body to face her now. “Something else entirely…” He trailed off, only confusing her more as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like all this stuff, but seeing you with him tonight... I wish I had.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a frog.”

He shook his head, grinning. “It’s not just a frog, Y/N... because the thing is,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ve been in love with you for... a really long time… since last spring. But with you being the way that you are, I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“And then you come in with that guy and...” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous in my life... because all this time I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, but you just weren’t interested in me.”

Inhaling, she summoned every ounce of courage she could fathom. “You were right about why I kissed Adam.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her elaboration which never came. “You were right about other things, too. I wish I had someone to come home to almost every single night I got to bed alone. No one—“ She cut herself off, trembling again as tears stung her eyes. “I pretend not to be interested so I can ignore the fact that no one’s ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.” He had that same look on his face as before, when she’d told him she wasn’t stupid enough to think he liked her.

She just nodded. “And I’m sorry but... why would you want me when you could have someone like Laura?”

“Y/N...” He huffed and stepped closer to her, the heat from his body making her shiver. “This is not the first time I started seeing someone to get over you... in fact, all my relationships since I met you have been shit.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re very anti-relationships so I think I was justified in wanting to avoid you rejecting me… especially since we work together and it would have been really awkward.”

“I don’t, uh... I...” She stammered, not really sure what to say to him even though her heart was screaming at her in full volume.

He held his breath and then, in almost a whisper, “Is this the inevitable rejection?”

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate that time and at this point, her mind no longer controlled the words coming out of her mouth as she let another organ finally speak for itself. “No, I liked you the second I saw you, Harry... and at no point tonight was I ever trying to make Laura jealous.”

The corners of his mouth began to curl into a smile. “That was very cruel of you to do to me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me at all twenty minutes ago, Harry.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” he fully invaded all of her space now, leaving the smallest gap between their bodies as he could get away with, lifting his hand to her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I was still on this date with the wrong person.”

“I think the date is over now.”

“No,” his eyes fell to her lips just like they had before. “It’s not.”

“You’re looking at me like that again.” She mumbled, out of breath.

He lifted a brow and didn’t once remove his eyes from her lips. “Like what?”

“Like…” she trailed off, not having the courage to say it in case she wasn’t right.

“Like I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time and I’m tired of pretending?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He grinned, both of his dimples making an appearance just before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. And once her brain realized what was happening, she sunk right into him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as his other hand tangled its way into her hair to bring her closer. She threw her arms over his shoulders and he hunched lower to meet her. She staggered back a step when he did, nearly losing her balance but he caught her instantly and then drew his lips back as he laughed.

“This is not how I expected tonight to end.” She couldn’t help but think the way he struggled to catch his breath was possibly the hottest he’d ever been. Not to mention the tiny bit of her lipstick smeared on his face. She could look at him just the way he was right there and then for days and be perfectly satisfied.

“It doesn’t have to end yet.” She fully blamed her sudden burst of confidence on the cold, but refreshing February night. And maybe she also just wanted to get out of it before it caught up to her and she would, yet again, regret not having a jacket.

“Oh?” She wanted to smack the mischievous smirk off his face and leave him there on the curb. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

“You thought a lot of things about me that weren’t true, Harry.”

He thought about that for a moment and after realizing she was right, he then wondered just how wrong he was when he’d called her celibate. “I suppose… I’d quite like to find out just how wrong I was.” He slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, which is where his lips ended up as he whispered softly, “And I’d also quite like to show you just how wrong you were about me not liking you.”

They stumbled into her bedroom in the dark, Pretzel racing out between their twisted feet in a hurry, screeching at them in the process. Harry giggled against her lips, “Your cat sounds friendly.”

“Well, since I was supposed to be spending tonight with her, and chocolate, and anti-romantic movies…” She pulled away from him, watching as his smile spread further. Maybe she could actually believe he’d been in love all this time.

“Right… I’d be upset too.”

She shook her head and kissed him again, then pulled back a second later. “You know that’s not actually what I do on Valentine’s Day.”

He lifted a brow and waited for her to explain but she didn’t.

“And what is it that you do, then?” He finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he had some inkling as to what she was talking about.

Her smile was devoid of innocence as her hands fell to his belt. Harry’s shirt had already been lost to the kitchen floor. Her dress hardly covering what it was supposed to once Harry had gotten his hands on it.

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.”

When she brought her lips back to his, after undoing the buckle just under his navel, he spun them around and led her backwards to the bed. He wasn’t sure how far it was, but hoped he was headed in the right direction. And because of that, when her knees did finally bend over the mattress, he practically came flying down on top of her.

She squirmed out from under him, crawling back towards the pillows as she watched him at the end of the bed while he stood and removed his belt completely, trying not to drool at the sight of him. At the sight of Harry, her fucking annoying ass, perfect, beautiful, coworker standing shirtless at the end of her bed where he was also about to be…

He pushed his trousers down off his hips and they fell to the floor with ease, almost with the same amount of ease that her eyes fell to the tight boxer-briefs he wore underneath. She swallowed as he adjusted the waistband back into place, quite certain that, even in the low light, her eyes were not deceiving her.

The bed shifted at her feet as he joined her, and then it took all her willpower to not fling herself at him as he crawled up the length of her. As he settled himself between her thighs and she felt every last, very hard, inch of him pressed against her. She couldn’t be blamed for the whining moan that she let out in his ear as his lips became familiar with the shape and taste of her neck. She also couldn’t be blamed when her hips instinctively collided with his.

He just giggled again and shook his head, the loose strands of his curls tickling her forehead. “Easy now.” He warned in a hushed mumble, his lips vibrating right against the vein in her neck that pulsed so much faster the more his free hand began to wander up underneath her dress.

He left her speechless for multiple reasons, but the main one was when she felt his fingers tracing down her thigh and then, moments later, after he shifted his weight and used his knees to keep her legs open, she sucked in a breath of air as she felt him pressed against her clit, forcing her nails to dig into his back but he didn’t seem to mind.

Coming back down to kiss her, he began moving his hand in expert little circles, grinning against her mouth every time her body begged him for more. It wasn’t long that he complied, either, when he sat back on his knees between her legs and tugged her underwear off for good, throwing it to the depths of her bedroom floor. He wouldn’t have known where they landed even if he tried because his gaze belong to her only as he lowered himself to his elbows before her, kissing his way up her thighs until he reached her center.

When she squirmed away from him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into her hips after gently moving her dress out of the way.

“You know when we used to stay late at the office working?” He asked suddenly and the heat of his voice against her made her squirm again, but he held on tight. “And you would get sick of sitting in an office chair and made me promise not to tell Jim when you sat on his desk instead?” She had no clue where he was going with it, but still, she nodded. “Every single time I turned to look at you, I thought about doing this.” Before she could get words out or even a coherent thought, she felt his tongue on her. And this time when she jerked against him, she nearly slipped out of his hold until he grabbed her again and pulled her back down, digging himself further into her as she struggled to breathe properly.

She dug her fingers into his hair when he brought her close to the edge and showed no mercy. And somehow, she’d managed to get the sole of her foot up onto his shoulder in order to kick him away, but it didn’t matter much because he never budged. Not that she wanted him to, but he just felt so good…

“Harry!” She shouted, pulling at his hair and making matters worse for herself when he moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He let her come, never once lifting his mouth from her even as her hips jerked off the mattress and she very nearly pulled his hair out. When she stopped screaming, her voice caught in her throat because she was lost to her own orgasm, is when he lifted his mouth, replaced it with his fingers and watched her as she came down. As her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to get oxygen back into her system. Her hold on him loosened as she came undone around him, melting into his hands it seemed like.

And when he began rubbing his index and middle finger into her, once she was far and beyond overstimulated, and he knew that, she reached down with a whine and grabbed his wrist with what little strength she had in her and pulled him away. His hand fell to the other side of her hip, which he used to his advantage to pull himself up over her again, his other hand taking her dress with it until he was able to tug it over her head and toss it. Then he came back down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on her lips. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and when he pulled away, found her looking at him finally. Although it was with heavy lids as she still struggled to regain her bearings.

Before they could get much further, a loud crashing sound from the other room made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. She shot up instantly, grabbing hold of Harry’s bicep before moving him out of the way and sliding off the edge of the bed.

“It’s just the cat.” Harry would have probably said the same thing even if it was not just the cat, he’d say anything just to get her to stay with him.

“I know but it sounded like…” her voice trailed off as her feet hit the floor and the moment she went to stand on her own two legs, her knees buckled. He reached to grab her waist but she righted herself before he could. She didn’t see the way he hid his cheeky smirk at the fact that he’d been so good, she was still dizzy.

“You good?” He asked as she stumbled her way into a shirt. With only a groan in response, and what he was sure was her middle finger, she left him alone in her bed to investigate the noise. Sighing, he laid on his back and got comfortable amongst her pillows. And after about three minutes, decided to locate the remote to her TV to entertain himself.

He flipped onto his side and felt around her bedside table, but his fingers never landed on anything remote-like. So, frustrated, he reached up and switched the lamp on. Again, he found nothing. Looking further, he realized the table had a drawer and so he pulled it open in hopes of finding the damned remote before she got back.

But what he found instead was so much better than turning on late night news.

“Fucking cat knocked over my vase.” Y/N was back within ten minutes. Harry had left the light on, but made sure it wasn’t obvious he’d gone snooping into her drawer, at least not yet anyway. She crawled back into bed beside him and it was then he noticed the bandage on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He forgot all about what he planned to tease her with when he gently grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“Yeah. I was in a bit of hurry trying to clean up the glass…”

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. “I would have come help you.”

She just smiled up at him as he fit his arm around her shoulders, his bicep under her neck. “That’s alright.”

He shrugged. “It was for the best anyways that I didn’t.” When he smirked, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“And why’s that?”

She followed his other hand as he reached for something and then, moments later, it reappeared with a very familiar pink object clutched in his grasp. “Because then I wouldn’t have found this.”

Her first reaction was to pry it from his snooping fingers, but when she reached across him to grab it, he way too easily held her back and, at the same time, held it far out of her reach.

“So this is what you do on Valentine’s Day, then?” He flicked his wrist back and forth, waving her vibrator in the air as he taunted her.

“If you don’t give that back to me,” she reached for it again to no prevail, “you won’t be doing anything, least of all, me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Why would I give it back when I plan on using it?”

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Would be rude of me to break your traditions, wouldn’t it?”

She swallowed, her eyes slowly meeting his again. The appearance of his right dimple told her he wasn’t playing any games. She had no idea how many times he planned to make her come tonight or whether or not she’d even be able to walk tomorrow at work. But, given the stupid look on his face, she almost began making plans to call out sick instead.

“Do you actually know how to use that thing?” She finally asked, glancing at the wand still held very firmly in his hand.

He looked at her like she was crazy moments before he pivoted and pinned her onto her back, settling himself into the position they’d been in before the interruption of the cat.

Just, this time… he was clicking on her vibrator and watching her face as she began to regret her words.

“‘Course I know how to use it. The real question is,” he brought his lips to her ear, the soft vibrations and the sound of his voice mixing together like sin itself. Even more so when he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you know how to handle it?”

#1dffvalentine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine

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