#this was hell to write

[yerrenica]

Pairing: Jaha Lee x Reader WC: 6.2k Tags: Eventual smut, semi-public smut. Prompt: Modern (Band) AU

"Fucking hell, you're messing up the tempo."

Jaha looked up from where he was hunched over one of his guitars, locking eyes with [Y/N]. "I'm not."

"You are." She frowned, plucking at the strings of her own. Pushing herself up with one hand, she readjusted her position on the floor so her back propped against the drum set behind her. "You're going too fast."

"I'm not." Jaha repeated, eyes shifting to the guitar in his hands. He settled his gaze upon one of the googly-eyed stickers on it. It was a sticker [Y/N] got him a few weeks ago—a googly-eyed rabbit. He's grown unusually fond of it, albeit at the moment it was the most irritating thing to look at.

"You're forgetting who's the teacher here."

"And you're forgetting who's in a band, and who isn't."

[Y/N] huffed. Jaha was the one in a band, and she was a mere fan... well, a childhood friend—turned guitar instructor—turned fan. [Y/N] rolled her eyes. "And who got you into this band, hm?"

"Shut it."

"You shut it." She muttered, grabbing a drumstick from the floor before chucking it across the room at Jaha, who quickly ducked with a mocking laugh.

"Dokgo will kill you if you lose his sticks, you dumbass."

"Good." Huffing, [Y/N] put both hands back on her guitar, positioning her fingers on the frets. "I'd rather die than have to keep helping you practise." She played a few chords experimentally as she spoke before looking back up at Jaha.

Jaha rolled his eyes. "If you stopped being such a prissy bitch we would've already been done with today."

"I'm not a... prissy bitch."

Jaha hummed, shifting his fingers on the strings. [Y/N]'s eyes followed the movement and the way Jaha's expression quickly turned into a smirk. "That's what a prissy bitch would say."

"Bastard." She scowled. "Bitch is an offensive word, anyway."

"Yeah, offensive to you."

"Oh my–" [Y/N] cut herself off with a sigh. "Can we just finish? I'm tired." She mumbled as her fingers flew over her guitar in a blur, quickly playing a sped-up version of the riff they were practising. Jaha glared at the woman.

"Fucking show off."

She laughed triumphantly. "You're just mad you're not as good as me."

"Quit kissing your own ass." Jaha enunciated, his eyes drifting back to his guitar. The sticker pissed him off even more right now. "And let's start from the beginning."

The woman nodded, keeping up her jubilant smirk. Experimentally playing the first few chords, Jaha set the pace. After a few beats, he began to quietly hum the lyrics, his voice getting louder at the chorus as [Y/N] watched him intently before starting the riff.

It was their best run-through yet—[Y/N]'s hand started to cramp as she changed chords too many times too quickly, but she pushed through, wincing slightly. This was one of the few reasons she wasn't in any band and instead kept her hobby strictly a hobby—her hands weren't suited for professional playing, even though she had the desire and the passion.

[Y/N] stopped her part (which wasn't hers as she wasn't in the band) as Jaha played his guitar solo, and [Y/N]'s gaze locked onto the way his fingers moved so fast against the frets and plucked the strings, playing the riff perfectly. He was good—he was great, and [Y/N] knew that even though she'd never admit it. Deep down, she envied him. The fact that he, who only started playing because she asked him to was in a band, but she wasn't. It gnawed at her heart most nights. Her hand trembled slightly as she cleared her throat quietly and snapped back out of her trance, helping him finish off the song.

They played the last part, and Jaha furrowed his brows in concentration as he finished. Sitting in silence, they looked at each other.

"That was good." [Y/N] said, taking her hands off the guitar. As she did, the cramp flared up again, and she clutched at her wrist with a grimace. "Shit—"

"You okay?" Jaha's voice sounded uncharacteristically soft at that moment. Looking over, she saw Jaha's concerned gaze, which made her heart race for a split moment. "Fucking hand cramp."

"Again?" Jaha grimaced. The woman nodded, biting her lower lip in discomfort, and Jaha quickly placed his guitar down before crawling over.

"Give it." He took her hand in his own larger one, gently spreading [Y/N]'s fingers as she hissed in pain. Massaging out the muscle, he pressed hard at her palm.

"Motherfu—..." [Y/N] bit down on her lower lip even harder as the pain shot through her wrist, before slowly subsiding. She was unusually pain intolerant when it came to hand cramps. She gasped, fingers twitching as relief flooded through her hand. "Dammit..."

Keeping his eyes on the woman's hand, Jaha parted his lips to speak. "Better?" [Y/N] gave a nod and a hum. Jaha's touch lingered on her hand for a moment longer, before his eyes travelled up to meet the woman's face. He was too close.

"You—" His expression hardened again before he sighed. "Quit doing that." He moved his thumb to brush over her lower lip. "You're going to split your lip open and bleed out."

Her breath almost hitched as she felt his touch on her lip, though she quickly composed herself, moving her head back, away from his hand. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Knowing you, you'd be the first to set a record for the dumbest way to bleed out." He hesitantly moved his hand away, almost as though he didn't wish to before backing away completely.

[Y/N] scowled before sighing. "Anyway, how do you not get cramps?" She shook her hand off as she asked. "You play harder stuff most of the time."

Jaha shrugged. "Dunno. Guess I'm just good with my fingers."

[Y/N] stared at him, her gaze travelling down to his long fingers. She felt a warmth pool in her stomach. "Yeah." She muttered quietly before shifting her eyes back down to her hand.

There was a momentary silence between the two as Jaha began placing his stuff back in its place. As he did so, he glanced over at [Y/N], who was still sitting on the floor, gazing down at her hand. He felt his heart ache for a split second as he observed her expression. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a stubborn furrow, creating a distinct line across her forehead. Her eyes, detached and muted, fixated on the skin she was picking at around her thumb.

He knew no words could comfort her, but the least he could do was reach out. "Any plans after this?"

She looked up to find him standing in front of her, his eyes scrutinizing her. "Oh, no." She quickly stood up, handing him her guitar so he could put it back into its rightful place.

"Let's go to the mall then."

She blinked a few times, drawing out the silence between them. "Why? Need something?"

Jaha cleared his throat, trying his hardest to keep eye contact. "Sunglasses." He said bluntly, albeit it was a lie. If he had told her that she seemed upset, and that's why he invited her out, she would've refused to go, but lying for such a reason didn't make him feel any less awkward.

"Sooo... you need my genius fashion advice?" She grinned, placing one hand on her hip.

"Alright. Forget it." He walked past her, going towards the door. The woman giggled as she followed him.

"Learn to take a joke, Jaha."

"Learn to stop being one."

The woman let out a dramatic gasp, jogging up to Jaha who was, for some reason, walking way too fast at the moment. She clutched her shirt where her heart was in a theatrical way. "Woah, low blow, low blow, low blow."

"You talk too much." He murmured as he picked up his skateboard.

"But you love listening to me talk." The woman spoke in a way that told Jaha that she was teasing, but he couldn't deny that statement either way. He simply huffed as he walked out of the studio with his skateboard in tow under his armpit.

"I thought we were heading to the mall?"

Jaha glanced at her before placing the skateboard down and positioning one foot on top of it. "We are."

"So what's with the board?"

"You can walk while I skate." He smirked before pushing himself forward and skating off further ahead.

The woman's mouth went slightly agape as she watched him. "You fucker..." She murmured. She was about to jog up to him once more but decided against it. After a few moments, Jaha made a U-turn and skated back up to [Y/N], stopping in front of her with a smirk.

"Hey." He gazed down at her shorter form. "Wanna try?"

"Skating?"

Jaha nodded. "Yeah."

"I can't." She hesitated, gazing down at the board on the ground. "I'll fall."

"I'll catch you." Jaha spoke as he moved his foot off the board, and moved to stand closer to [Y/N], placing his hand on her forearm.

She paused, contemplating it briefly before nodding, without actually having done any contemplating. "If I break something, it's your fault."

Giving her a grin, Jaha slightly tightened his grip around her forearm, dragging her further ahead so she was closer to the board.

"Step on." he said, gesturing to it. [Y/N] hesitantly did, wobbling a bit. She grabbed onto Jaha's shoulder, holding it firmly as the other touched her elbow to steady her. "Okay, good."

"Now... what?"

Jaha touched one of her legs, hands brushing against her bare skin. [Y/N] suppressed a shudder as she moved it into the right position. "You're gonna wanna use that leg to push yourself along, and then place it back onto the board in that position."

"I'll fall." She repeated, fingers digging into Jaha's shoulders harder. 

"Don't be a pussy, and you won't fall." His words were terse, but his touch was gentle as he held [Y/N]'s hand. Nonetheless, [Y/N] glared at him. Jaha gave her hand a squeeze, giving her a strangely reassuring smile which made the woman look away. "Go on."

She sighed, following the man's instructions. Jaha walked along with her as she skated slowly, tightening her grip on his hand every time she wobbled.

He watched fondly as he spoke with a smile. "You're getting it." [Y/N] looked over, and as she did she lost balance slightly. Jaha reached out before she could fall, placing a strong hand on her waist to stop her. "Keep going."

The woman pushed on, finding it difficult to concentrate. The fingers on her waist briefly tightened each time she was poised to fall, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling. She hated this. The way the softness of his touch on her hand and waist made her feel. The way he was so extremely close to her. The way he smelled like a man. The way he sounded so husky right next to her ear. Everywhere she could feel his presence was on fire. Her whole body was burning up. She absolutely detested this. Screw whoever thought that putting her in this situation would be a great idea.

"Doing so well." Jaha breathed. His face was ridiculously close to [Y/N]'s, and she felt hot air hit her neck as he spoke. She pushed along again, and Jaha continued. "Yeah, just like that."

"Stop dirty talking into my ear." The woman hissed, shoving him away with her arm. The force of it pushed her back, and the board slipped from under her as Jaha let go. She fell to the hard ground, elbows scraping on the slightly rough surface. "Ow—"

Sitting up, she twisted her elbow around to see a slight graze.

"Shit, you good?" Jaha came up to her, kneeling down to take hold of her arm. 

"My ass hurts more, dickface."

"You're the one who pushed me." Jaha retorted, staring at her incredulously. 

"Because you were, fucking, all like, 'Oh yeah... just like that', and—" Jaha slapped a hand over her mouth to stop the lewd string of moans after noticing a few people giving them looks. Usually, he wouldn't give a shit if someone was staring, but for some reason, he didn't want anyone to hear [Y/N] like that, not even when the noises she was making weren't genuine.

"Okay, I get it." He said, forcing down a laugh. "I didn't sound like that, though."

[Y/N] pushed his hand away. "Yeah, you were worse."

Jaha stood up, kicking up his board before catching it with his hand. Pulling the woman to her feet, he smiled. "How's your arm?"

"Just a scratch." The woman frowned, rubbing at it. As she did, she noticed how hard Jaha was trying to control his smile, almost as though he was stifling laughs. Then the realization hit her.

"You— You did that on purpose!"

At long last, Jaha let out a series of laughs. "Sorry, I—" He breathed in after a few more chuckles. "I couldn't help myself."

"Oh my God, you are a little shit." She kicked his shin lightly, making Jaha giggle even more. A faint blush tainted her cheeks (be it from embarrassment or how Jaha's smile reached his eyes). She huffed softly, beginning to walk away.

Soon enough, they reached the mall, entering it with soft sighs as the cold air hit them, contrasting the scorching heat outside. [Y/N] hummed. "You said you need sunglasses?"

Jaha tilted his head slightly. "Huh?" Then he remembered the lie he had told the woman. "Oh, yeah."

They made their way into a clothes shop, and [Y/N]'s eyes darted around until they landed on a sunglasses rack in the corner. Grabbing Jaha's arm, she pulled him along to it.

"Try these on." She said, picking up a pair of aviators before turning to Jaha. She handed them over, watching as he slid them onto his face to look in the mirror. She nodded in approval. "They look good on you."

Jaha stared in the mirror for a moment, his face stoic, as always. "I look like a douchebag."

"You are a douchebag." The woman smiled, turning to look at him through the reflection in the mirror. "Now you're a chic douchebag."

"They fucking make me look like a high school bully." He curled his lip, taking them off his face from one handle. They bent a bit, and the woman quickly snatched them back to put them on the shelf carefully. 

"Weren't you? Back in high school?"

Jaha turned to her, raising his eyebrows. "Me?" He said, pointing to his face. "Is this the face of a bully?"

Scoffing, [Y/N] grabbed another pair, handing them to him. "There's a reason most people are afraid to talk to you."

"On the contrary." He paused for a moment. "I was the one getting beat up back then."

The woman paused before pushing the glasses on Jaha's face. "Did they stick your head in the toilets or shove you into lockers?"

Jaha couldn't help but chuckle softly, positioning the glasses on his face better. "No. I don't think that shit happens."

"If you say so." The woman handed yet another pair of sunglasses to Jaha. "Tell me their names and I'll fuck them up for you."

Rolling his eyes fondly, Jaha batted her away. "Yeah, okay. Not about to send you to your death, [Y/N]." After placing the glasses he had in hand back into their place, Jaha grabbed her face, sliding a pair of sunglasses over her eyes before stepping away.

He nodded. "Perfect."

[Y/N] turned back to the mirror, before turning back to Jaha with a scowl. "Fuck you." She reached up to take the cream-coloured middle-finger frames off her face, but Jaha quickly stopped her.

"I'll pay for them." He said desperately as he tried to hold in a laugh. He grinned as he spoke, and [Y/N] wanted to punch his perfectly straight teeth out. "Sound good?"

Folding her arms, she faced the mirror once more, letting out a sigh. "Fuck you." She repeated but made no attempt to remove them this time.

Jaha chuckled lightly, taking them off her along with his own pair of sunglasses, and they made their way to the counter to pay. He made no attempts at small talk with the cashier whilst [Y/N] stood there, staring at him, and before long they were walking out with a bag in hand.

"Put them on now." Jaha said, reaching in to grab them. His own glasses were perched on top of his head.

"Uh, no. No way in hell am I wearing those in public."

"You could style them." He suggested. He was clearly taunting her again with that snarky smirk on his face.

She stared at the way the frames had two middle fingers up, and she scrunched her nose. "I'll style them up your ass."

"Hm." Jaha smirked, placing the sunglasses on [Y/N]'s head. He was amused at the way the woman made no actual attempt to remove them. "Let's go eat."

[Y/N] felt her heart race. This was starting to seem like a date, rather than a simple outing between friends. Nonetheless, she agreed, and they began walking around the mall, looking for a suitable place to eat at. They walked past multiple restaurants, yet the one that caught Jaha's eye was...

Jaha looked around, eyes landing on a store in the corner of the mall. He halted. "Is that a... dick waffle shop?" He pointed to the bright pink sign.

The woman's mouth went slightly agape. "No fucking way." She laughed, grabbing his hand, and practically dragging him towards it. "Let's go check it out."

"What? Are you—" Before he could refuse and turn around, they had already entered inside. He groaned. "I don't want a dick waffle."

"Tough." The woman smiled as they looked around the 'restaurant'. Loud, obnoxious music played through the speakers that were placed in the corners of the ceiling, and the inside itself was covered in cheap-looking neon signs and plastic dick-shaped objects. Jaha reluctantly allowed himself to be taken to the front counter, and they both peered through the glass cabinet.

"What do you want?" The woman giggled.

"To leave."

She elbowed him in the side, and he stumbled a bit, catching himself on the glass. "Woah, didn't think you'd be so desperate." She mocked the way his hands landed on the glass, making Jaha groan in frustration and quickly step away.

He was glaring at her.

The woman ignored his lack of a response as her eyes drifted back to the waffles. "Anyway, I'll choose for you."

Jaha folded his arms, looking around as [Y/N] decided what to get. "Fucking hell... why is it so expensive?" She complained. "We'll share."

Jaha snapped his head back to look at her. "I'm not sharing a dick waffle with you."

[Y/N] gave him a look from the side. "You want your own?" Jaha was silent at that, and she grinned, turning to the guy at the counter to order; brown hair, and brown eyes—a stark contrast to the colourful dick waffles presented near him.

Jaha walked off to find a table as she ordered—eventually choosing a small corner table for the two of them. It was out of sight from the main part of the shop, which he thought was best. He'd rather not be seen in a place like this.

[Y/N] came over after a while holding a box, and she pulled out her chair to take a seat opposite Jaha. She opened the lid, and they both stared at it.

"That's fucking horrific." Jaha commented, looking back up at the grinning woman. He picked it up, holding it by the stick as white chocolate sauce began to drip down the sides.

"Looks tasty though." She spoke nonchalantly as she watched Jaha twirl it around, trying not to let stuff fall off it.

Jaha was silent for a moment, and then he smirked, locking eyes with the woman. "Open your mouth."

"What?" As she parted her lips to speak, Jaha moved forwards, forcing the waffle into her mouth. She made a noise of surprise that was muffled by the thing in her mouth, clutching at Jaha's arm as he laughed, lightly thrusting it inside. The woman gagged, and it was as though something darkened in Jaha's gaze. After a few moments, Jaha pulled away.

White chocolate mixed with saliva dripped down her chin, and she wiped at it with the back of her hand. Looking up, she glared daggers at the man, trying to catch her breath.

"What are you? A mental case?"

"Hey, you were the one who dragged me here." He said, still sneering. "Besides, that's what you're supposed to do with these." He pointed up to the small television in the corner that was displaying a couple doing the same thing. The woman shuddered.

"That's nasty. Vile."

Jaha handed [Y/N] a tissue, and she wiped the rest of her mouth.

"Still wanna eat it?" He asked as he placed the waffle back into the box. The woman observed it and then sighed dejectedly. "It's all soggy now."

"Oh, yeah." Jaha hummed, his face stoic. "Looks gross now."

"And whose fault is that?" Pushing up from the chair, [Y/N] placed a hand on her hip. The woman noted the way Jaha was looking at her and backed away a bit, her heart skipping a beat. "What?"

He snapped out of his trance and shrugged it off, walking past her as he tugged on the collar of his shirt slightly. He felt hot. "Nothing. Let's go."

The woman followed him, chucking the box with the waffle still inside into a bin, albeit reluctantly. "Can't believe I paid that much only to throw it away." She sighed.

Jaha pursed his lips, and after a moment of hesitation spoke. "Where do you wanna go? I'll buy you something."

She tilted her head slightly as she smiled. "What? You feel bad for shoving it down my throat?"

"Don't make it sound like that."

"That's what you did thou—" She made an 'o' shape with her mouth in realization. "Actually, there's a shirt I've been meaning to buy."

He nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

She quickly dragged him into yet another clothing store, walking further inside as her eyes scanned the racks and mannequins with a wide smile. He found it endearing how she seemed so excited over something as simple as a new shirt.

"You wanna buy... that?" Jaha asked, seeing as [Y/N] held up a blouse from its hanger. Jaha looked between it and the one she was currently wearing right then. "You literally have, like, ten million versions of that same shirt."

"It's a blouse. And I don't." She smiled, picking up a few other ones and shoving them into Jaha's arms. She then moved further ahead, looking through the shorts, and skirts the store had. It was summer, and wearing pants was not an option.

"Yes, you do."

"I do not. They're different brands." She idly commented as she searched through the racks. Grabbing a few garments out, she placed them onto the ever-growing mountain of clothes in Jaha's arms. He scowled, peering around it.

"They look the same." He scoffed. "And besides, I thought you were only going to buy one shirt, not the entire store."

She moved her hair away from her shoulder as she smiled. "That's your own misunderstanding."

"You literally said—" Before he could finish speaking, [Y/N] had already walked off. Jaha blindly walked after her, stopping as he placed the mountain of clothes on the counter. He heard the woman speak to a worker, and the clothes were quickly counted before they were let into the changing rooms. 

They both got into one stall, and Jaha dumped the pile onto the floor.

"Where the fuck are you gonna start with all this?" Jaha kicked at a blouse, and [Y/N] picked it off the floor.

"With this."

His mind froze for a moment, and he turned his head to the side. "I'll wait outside." He felt the back of his neck getting hotter as he reached for the door handle of the stall, narrowly opening it.

The woman nodded as the man walked out. "Aight."

He stood outside the stall, glaring at a few people that walked by. He had no reason to, he simply felt upset with himself. Why? Well, he didn't know. Perhaps it was because he was about to pay for a mountain of garments that were way too overpriced or maybe it was because he felt too hot, or perhaps it may even be because he's been feeling hot ever since they stepped foot into that dick-waffle shop. The image of white chocolate staining [Y/N]'s lips and chin was ingrained deeply into his mind, and the moment they shared in the stall just earlier only made it more visible. He bit his lower lip, lost in thought. His pants were starting to feel just a little too tight as he tried to push [Y/N]'s face away from his mind.

Thankfully, the knock behind him took him out of his trance. He turned on his heel. "Yeah?"

[Y/N]'s voice came from the other side of the door. "Can you, uh, help?" She asked quietly, shyly almost.

Jaha kept quiet for a moment, taking in a deep breath. He almost thought that the trance he was in was better than whatever this situation was. His thoughts he could, at least, push away.

"With what?"

"Uh, this blouse... The strings are on the back of it, so I can't really, um, reach it." The longer she spoke the quieter her words got.

Jaha held in another breath as he slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside. He was greeted by [Y/N] facing away from him, staring at him through the mirror in front of them as she held the blouse up with her hands placed neatly on her chest. The strings on her back were untied, and with a controlled expression, he reached out his fingers to take hold of them. His fingertips brushed against her bare back and he felt chills run down his spine. She felt so soft, too soft. As he worked his hands on the strings, he moved a foot closer, and in doing so he tripped over the pile of clothes on the floor, stumbling forward and consequently pushing the woman against the mirror. His hands moved to catch himself, and he found himself trapping the woman between himself and the mirror. His chest was pressed firmly against her back as the blouse fluttered to the floor and her hands scrambled to cover her breasts.

He took in a sharp breath, her scent enveloping his senses as he felt her rear pressing against his crotch. "Shit, sorry, I—" As he spoke, he caught sight of her expression in the mirror. Her gaze was lowered and her lower lip trembled negligibly. Pink tinted her cheeks, the type of pink that brought Constance Spry roses to mind. The compliance on her face made his heart race, and he noted how she made no attempt to push him away, the way her body slightly turned to face him, eyes looking up at him with an almost hopeful expression.

"It's okay." Her voice was quaint as her eyes darted to his lips for a brief second before moving back up to meet his eyes. "You smell nice." She commented.

Leaning in closer, his voice came out almost as a whisper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She breathed out softly. The air was thick with anticipation as they inched closer, their bodies magnetically drawn to one another. With a gentle touch, their hands intertwine, their fingers finding solace in each other's warmth. The kiss begins slowly, a delicate exploration of lips. They meet softly, barely a whisper, as they savour the initial contact. Time seemed to slow down, each second stretching into eternity as their lips brushed against each other's, testing the waters of craving.

A delicate dance ensued as their mouths moved in harmony. Jaha tilted his head slightly so their lips would meld together more comfortably. Their tongues tentatively met, tracing the contours of each other's lips before diving deeper.

Their breaths became mingled, their hearts beating in syncopation as the kiss deepened. Lips pressed more firmly as Jaha pushed her back against the mirror. The woman let out a small noise of surprise that was quickly swallowed, and fingers threaded in her hair as Jaha's other hand went down to her waist. After moments he detached his lips from her mouth to move onto her neck.

[Y/N] gasped, feeling her shorts being pulled down. She grabbed Jaha's arm, and the other pulled away slightly to look at her.

"Jaha, what are you—" She panted, wiping the string of saliva from her lips. "We—We're in public."

Jaha went back to mouth at her neck, and [Y/N] let her head fall back against the mirror. She could feel the smirk on Jaha's face against her skin. "Guess you're gonna have to be quiet, then."

A wave of arousal crashed over her body as her shorts fell to the floor along with her underwear, and she stepped out of them before kicking them away. Jaha pulled back from her neck, shoving two fingers inside the woman's mouth.

"Lick." He said, and she did—swirling her tongue around them as they locked eyes. Jaha pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling them out, and [Y/N] gripped onto his shoulders.

"Are you gonna..." [Y/N] felt a hand on the underside of one of her thighs as it was hiked up, held firmly by Jaha. "You're gonna just fuck me here?"

"Yeah." He spoke breathily. He placed his wet fingers against [Y/N]'s clit, and the woman let out a gasp at the coldness. She studied Jaha's expression carefully, tightening her grip on his shoulders. Jaha shifted his eyes back to her face, moving his fingers against her clit as her nails dug into his shoulders. He couldn't describe the feeling in his gut, it was swimming in ardour. She was simply perfect.

"Fuck..." She felt her knees getting wobbly, and Jaha was quick to notice this. He hiked her leg up further, holding her in place as he continued his ministrations on her swollen clit. After a few moments, he moved his fingers down her folds, smearing them with her wetness.

He shot a glance over his shoulder to make sure the door was properly locked before locking eyes with her flushed expression.

"You okay, princess?" He smirked, his tone teasing as he worked to undo his pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal his boxers.

She glared at the name, digging her nails further into his shoulders. "Don't gross me out." Although she said that, she couldn't tell whether her ears were hot due to arousal or embarrassment. "But yes. I'm okay."

Her gaze lowered as she observed him struggle to pull down his boxers with one hand. She chuckled at the way he clicked his tongue. He was clearly getting impatient, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Reaching her hands towards the waistband of his boxers, her fingers brushed against his abdomen. Jaha stiffened slightly at her touch, a faint pink painting his cheeks.

Once the boxers were pulled down to his thighs, [Y/N] shifted her eyes away from his dick. She felt undeniably embarrassed.

Jaha moved her leg up further. "You sure this is okay?"

The woman smiled. "Yea—" Before she could properly get her words out, Jaha pushed inside. This man was far too impatient.

The woman scrambled at his back, face screwed up in pleasure and slight discomfort as Jaha didn't stop until he was fully in all the way. He held [Y/N]'s face with one hand, tilting it up so they made eye contact.

"Don't want people to hear." He said, pressing a hand firmly against the other's mouth. "Imagine what the public would say."

The idea of being caught made her legs shake as Jaha pulled out, slamming back inside with bruising force. The woman braced a hand against the mirror as her spine dug into it, and his eyes rolled back at a direct hit to the bumpy spot inside.

Jaha created a steady pace, fucking her further into the mirror as the grip on her upper thigh tightened. 

"I wish the others could see you right now." Jaha whispered, leaning closer to her ear as he bit at her skin. "So fucking pliant, ready to just be filled whenever."

The woman's mouth hung open under Jaha's hand, and she felt herself drooling onto it as she was pounded into the mirror behind her. She'd never had sex at this angle before, and the way Jaha's cock rubbed inside her with each thrust made her limbs tremble.

Jaha sensed that she was getting weak, so he hooked his hands under her thighs, picking her up, and holding her against the mirror as [Y/N] wrapped her legs around his waist. Once she did, he moved one hand back to her mouth. Continuing the pace, Jaha groaned softly as he felt himself growing closer to climax. She felt her body thrum with arousal as her fingertips tingled, and Jaha let out a low groan, thrusting deeper inside.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door, and Jaha slowed his movements. [Y/N]'s head spun, and it took her a second to realise that someone was on the other side.

"Excuse me?" A worker's voice came, and Jaha turned his head slightly to the side. "Just wondering if you need any assistance? You've been in there for a while."

The woman saw a glint of something in Jaha's eye, and the hand against her mouth was removed. [Y/N]'s eyes widened slightly as Jaha thrust in again—this time slower—and it took everything in her not to moan out loud.

He locked eyes with the woman and tilted his head towards the door behind them. He wanted her to speak, and reassure the worker.

"I'm good." She gasped out as she felt Jaha continue to push inside. [Y/N] bit down on the back of her own hand hard enough to draw blood as she tried her best not to let any noises slip past her lips. "Just got a lot of clothes to try— try on... here."

He snapped his hips again, grip on [Y/N]'s legs tightening as he looked at her fucked-out expression with a smirk. Picking up the pace slightly, he watched as the woman hit her head back against the mirror, eyebrows furrowed as her mouth hung open. He was so very large and male, and excessively male creatures always took her over the edge.

"Let me know if you need anything." The worker at the door said, and there were the sounds of slight shuffling as their shadow disappeared. 

"You—" The woman started, and Jaha cut her off with another hard thrust. A string of moans fell from her lips as she came undone, and she scratched down Jaha's clothed back as he fucked her, watching as she became a broken mess under his touch.

Jaha let out a low whine near [Y/N]'s ear. "Can I..."

She nodded. With one last thrust, Jaha's eyes shut close as he came inside [Y/N]. His trembling hand worked on the woman's clit as he rode out his orgasm, trying his hardest not to let any lewd noises slip past his lips. It didn't take long for the woman to come undone under Jaha's touch. She felt her thighs tremble slightly, and Jaha held himself up against the wall. They caught their breaths, and he pulled out, gently setting [Y/N] back onto her feet.

She immediately wobbled, and Jaha caught her. His eyes trailed down, watching as his cum leaked down the inside of her legs.

"Shit." He clicked his tongue as he snapped out of his thoughts, grabbing the blouse that he was supposed to be helping her put on from the floor to wipe her clean with. The woman immediately gasped when she saw the cum stain the blouse.

"You're an idiot." She whispered, observing the way he cleaned her up. "They'll still have to scan it. Touch it, Jaha."

"Hey, I'm only using the edge of it." He tapped her inner thigh with the edge of the blouse to emphasize his justification.

She scrunched up her nose, fighting down a smile. "You're disgusting." Her words carried no real weight. She knew that because her heart was beating out of her chest at the way he was taking care of her.

Jaha laughed softly. "Listen, I'm working with what I have." He seemed outwardly happy, and this made the woman chuckle alongside him.

Once he was done and back on his feet, the woman pinched at his side. "That was a stupid fucking stunt you pulled when the worked came." Jaha pushed her hand away as she did this, smiling smugly. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?"

"Well..." Her cheeks tinted red as she began dressing up. "The stunt, no, but—"

"But the sex yes?"

She gave no response to that, except for placing the pile of the store's clothes into his hands. She smiled. "I might answer if you pay for all of this."

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Lights the Dark

Chapter 27: Solitas Fairytale

That night Penny and Pietro had a long talk over dinner, finally airing out the issue. And while Penny agreed that she needed to do something about her nightmares, she was still reluctant to tell Ironwood until the investigation was over. Pietro, while a little disheartened by this, agrees to wait a bit longer, but only if Penny promises to talk to him about it and work with him to help stop them. She promised and also asked her dad if he had any idea why the nightmares started in the first place.

That was when Penny was introduced to the concept of mental trauma responses. Much like physical trauma, mental trauma can be triggered by reminders of said trauma or being in the same mental state as when the trauma occurred. Most often, the nightmares happened after Penny was under a great deal of stress. Especially when that stress came from fighting, this would unconsciously trigger her and cause the response. At least, that’s what Pietro theorized.

That night Penny slept a little sounder, comforted by the fact she’d finally confronted this pain, had a tool to help cope with it and had people to rely on while she got better. Unbeknownst to her, however, up in the city of Altas, someone was making preparation that would upturn her heart yet again.

Over the weekend, things fell into a new routine with Penny taking moments to breathe when she could and venting her frustrations and worries to her dad instead of bottling them up when she got home. Though they were only baby steps in her treatment, Penny was still glad to be making some progress, even if it hadn't taken root yet.

When Monday came around, Penny had another new facet to her day when Whitley insisted on taking a few minutes to ask about her condition. How had she slept over the weekend? Had she slept for long periods? How was she feeling? Was she well enough to get through the lessons? These questions are more were asked of her before the actual lesson began. And even during their study time, Whitley would periodically remind her that they could take a break if she needed it. Penny refused, not wanting to make a fuss, but always thanked him for the offer. This went on for a few days until that Thursday afternoon.

They were in the library being monitored by Mary, studying ballroom etiquette and culture, when Whitley got an unexpected call. He takes out his scroll, looks at the caller id, and lets out a long sigh; it’s Edouard Beaufort, a multi-millionaire landowner, and Atlas’s most eccentric drama king. The man was a close friend of his father due to their shared love of showing off, which meant Whitley had tolerated the man’s presence more times than he’d ever would willing.

Whitley: Excuse me for a moment; I have to take this.

He states before getting up from the table and walking out in the hallway to take the call. Once outside, Whitley takes a deep breath before finally pressing the accept call button and putting the scroll to his ear. He summons up all the fake positivity he can muster as he greets his caller.

Whitley: Good afternoon, Monsieur Beaufort! It’s been so long since I last heard from you! How are you?

Beaufort: Bonjour, Mon, adorable garçon Whitley! Pardon moi for the sudden call, but I went to your last concert and wanted to thank you again for putting on such a fantastic show! It was absolutely transcendent!

Whitley: Why, thank you! Though I can’t take all the credit, the lovely members of Altas Prime Orchestra performed just as well as I did.

Beaufort: Oh, nonsense, ma chère, you were the star of the show! No need to be humble about it.

Whitley: I’m sorry, I seem I’ve forgotten how to take a compliment. Now, if that's all I must be on-

Beaufort: And it’s because of that lovely attitude of yours that I knew I had to invite you to my annual grand mystère ball personally!

Whitley pauses, both surprised and confused by the man’s statement. He does his best not to stammer as he asks for clarification.

Whitley: I’m sorry, I think I’ve misheard you. You’re inviting me to the grand mystère ball?

Beaufort: But of course! How could I not grace my guest list with a superb performer? And with you being named heir to SDC, it would be obscene of me, as a seasoned businessman and colleague of your father’s, not to!

Whitley: …I see

The Grand Mystère Ball was the annual themed party Beaufort held at his estate. It’s an over-the-top, unduly lavish event that was more a show of wealth than a social gathering. Grand decorations, absorb amounts of gourmet food, and world-class entertainment were only a few of the draws of The Grand Mystère. It was a different theme every year, and the date was unknown to the guest until invitations were sent out. And receiving that invitation was a high honor in itself, as most guests were chosen based on status, looks, and entertainment value. Everything about this party was set up to produce the most dramatic night of merriment any elite could imagine, the epitome of high-class frivolity.

This made it almost impossible to decline or skip once you were invited, especially if Beaufort asked you himself. The sheer amount of envy and disrespect one garners from choosing not to attend one of the biggest highlights of the social season could cripple their social standing for years. And with the way Beaufort gossiped, it would also spell death for many business connections as well. Knowing he has little way of escaping the invite, Whitley tries his best to dodge the issue with logic.

Whitley: Thank you, and while I’m very grateful for the invitation, I have to ask if it’s really in your best interests to have such a young guest at your grand mystère ball.

Beaufort: Pardon moi, what do you mean by that?

Whitley: Well, despite being a heir, I am still minor, and I won’t want to spoil any of the adult fun you might have been planning.

Beaufort: Aw, how thoughtful of you worrying about the other guests like this, but there's no need. I’ve decided to open my shindig up to the next generation! So there will be plenty of fun for the youths and adults.

Whitley: Oh really..that’s wonderful.

Beaufort: En effet, there will be a variety of delights and entertainment for everyone! Though it was a complete nightmare to put it all together this year, what with this embargo, I’m sure it will be my most extraordinaire ball yet!

From there Beaufort begins to prattle on about the specifics of his party while Whitley, knew full well Jacques will be being getting a similar call soon, begrudgingly listens. Meanwhile, Penny continues to read through her materials while Mary oversees her. She stares at her silently until Penny finishes the last page of her designated chapters and puts the book down. With no direction and nothing to do, Penny looks around the room. The labyrinthine library that was once so daunting had become cozy to her after spending so many hours within it. Though she didn’t know every inch of the shelves and bookcases, Penny had a good idea of where certain genres and collections were. And with nothing else to do, she decides to look for some new reading material to go over until Whitley comes back. As she scans the area, Mary notes her gaze and walks up to her.

Mary: Looking for something?

Mary inquiries; Penny quickly wipes her head around and turns her eyes to the maid. She’s a little taken aback by her sudden question but shakes it off and answers her calmly.

Penny: Oh, I was just thinking about picking a book to read until Whitley finishes his call.

Mary: I see; what kind of book were you thinking of? We have plenty to look through, art, history, philosophy, historical fiction, and even some fairy tales.

Penny: Fairytales? There are fairy tale books in this library?

Mary: Yes, there are at least three different collections from every kingdom and range. I believe they were bought as maternity gifts for Mistress Willow from her father, Nichols during each of her pregnancies. Some are more modern tellings of older tales, while others are collections of ancient fables only recently put to print.

Penny: Wow, that’s amazing!

Penny’s eyes glimmer at the idea of reading new fairy tales and discovering new fantasy worlds to explore. Mary smiles innocently at her excitement, though her eyes hold an ominous glint.

Mary: However-

Mary starts as she gets even closer to Penny, taking a seat right next to her.

Mary: I might know a fairytale that might be more suited to your taste than anything here.

Penny: Really, what is it?

Mary: Well, it’s not exactly a traditional storybook.

Mary states as she pulls out a large notebook from one of her apron pockets and holds it up. Penny looks at the book with surprise and intrigue as Mary continues on.

Mary: This is a fairy tale I've been writing for some time now. I just finished proofing the tenth chapter a few days ago and was looking for some test readers. And since you enjoy these types of stories, I thought you might enjoy it. Would you mind if I read it to you? I promise it won’t take too long.

Penny: Yes, please! I’d love to hear your story!

Penny squeaks out, full of excitement. Being the first to hear a brand-new fairytale sounded like an absolute dream to Penny, one too sweet to pass up. Mary smirks her gaze cold but focused as she opens the notebook.

Mary: Very well. “Once upon a time, there lived a miner from a cold, cold village.”

“The miner was a large man, tall and strong with a kind heart and strong mind. He worked hard day in and day out, gathering precious metals and powerful crystals to sell from morning to night. The miner was very good at his job; he knew the best spots to dig, the safest paths to mine, and the most promising place to sell his goods. Eventually, other miners noticed his talents and came to work with him. Thus he began a mining business, one that treated its employees with the utmost care and priced their crystal very fairly. Over the years, the company grew and grew until it became the biggest and most beloved in the nation. During this time, the miner became known for his kindness, strength, and wisdom, as his crystals brought prosperity and wealth across the land.”

“Soon he was named the King of Crystals and Generosity and was held up as a shining example of hard work and compassion prevailing over all odds.”

“But what is a king without a castle? He thought.”

“And so the new king used a part of his wealth to build a castle in the kingdom’s capital for himself, his family, and all his subjects. The castle was the grandest in the land, built high into the sky with a view that went on for miles, and the halls seemed almost endless. Inside he placed many wondrous rooms for his family and friends to enjoy. A ballroom for his gorgeous wife to dance in and hold parties, many guest rooms to house friends and family whenever they may visit, and a grand garden for his beloved daughter, who had always longed to be surrounded by flowers.”

Penny: A castle in the sky? That sounds like something that would be here in Atlas.

Penny says a loud as Mary comes to a pause in the story. Right after she says it, Penny realizes she accidentally interrupted her and gives her an apologetic look. But before she can say sorry, Mary hushes her, placing her pointer finger on her own lips and chiming out a soft “shhh” before picking up where she left off.

Mary: “the castle was beautiful, and everyone was welcome in its halls. Whether they be rich or poor, peasant or royal, all were equal in the King of Crystals’ eyes!”

“For years, the castle was filled with joy and happiness, and the mining business flourished. The King was happy to see his hard work benefit and inspire many people from all walks of life. And that he could provide his family with everything they needed or desired for as long as he lived. The proudest moments of his reign were not the applause and admiration he received from his people but the growth and happiness of his daughter, his lovely princess.”

“Known as the Princess of Flowers, the daughter was the fairest girl in the land and was loved by many. She had many suitors as she grew up, but only one could claim her heart. Her beloved was by no means a wealthy man, but he was kind, handsome, and very well-spoken. He would shower her with sweet words and comfort every chance he could and treated her parents with great respect and admiration. They were so in love that soon as they both came of age, they married. The wedding was the grandest affair the kingdom had ever seen, and soon after, they welcomed their first child into the world. A daughter, just as precious and fair as her mother.”

“Over the next decade, they had two more children, a second daughter with her grandfather’s smile, then a son with his mother's caring eyes. The children were all beautiful, kind, and clever, with a talent for music. They were the shining symbols of royalty and brilliance across the globe. Everywhere they went, people would stop and stare. At their flawless pale skin, bright crystal blue eyes, and soft snow-white hair.”

Penny: Snow white hair?

Penny asks, eyes full of suspension and a bit of confusion. The story had seemed a little familiar in an odd way that she couldn’t place, but with the description of the children, things were starting to come together. Mary ignores Penny’s question and continues the story.

Mary: “They were beautiful, the picture-perfect family. But alas, there is no tale without its hardships.”

“Before the princess was to be married her mother, the Careful Queen passed away from illness. The King, greatly saddened by her loss and weakened from years of hard work, could no longer continue his reign. The Princess was also disheartened by her mother’s death and had not the strength or the fortitude to take up her father’s throne. And so, with no other heirs, the King passed his crown to his son-in-law the day after he and the princess married. But even with the weight of his empire lifted from his shoulders, the King was not long for this world. He passed away before his second granddaughter was eight.”

“This, however, was only the beginning of the family’s downfall. As the old king’s health declined, the new king and queen’s love began to falter. The once kind gentleman grew cold and short-tempered; the words of love he once shared so easily became few and far between. It wasn’t until the second daughter’s ninth birthday that the perfect family finally shattered. During an agreement, the new king attempted that he had only courted the young queen to inherit her father’s throne and had not loved her for even a moment. This revelation destroyed the Queen’s heart and ripped her soul asunder. Unable to cope with this reality, the once exquisite Princess of Flowers began to wilt, drowning herself in wine to numb her pain and forget her foolishness. And the new king quickly took hold of the throne, turning it away from its humble roots and into a monopoly that drained the life of all under its rule. Soon the new king gained a new title among the people, the Lord of Greed.”

“And for the children, that day would mark the beginning of a very harsh life. All the leniency and consideration their father once held vanished entirely, and their lives became strict and routine. They were to do as they were told, speak only when asked, and bring glory to the family name matter what. Their days were filled with constant studies and practices as their father molded them into his ideal children. In truth, they became little more than hounds; trained wolves bred only to follow the orders of their master.”

“But can wolf truly be controlled? Can such a wild spirit be contained with force alone? No, not when it was born to withstand the coldest winters and darkest nights.

“The eldest daughter was first to rebel, choosing to take the path of knighthood and fled when she came of age. The second daughter was much the same, she looked up to her elder sister who taught her to fight in secret and began to fight for her freedom. She would argue and bicker with her father often, fulling the castle with strife. When she became old enough to enlist instead of running away, the second princess was offered a wager. Kill a beast of the Lord’s choosing, and he would let her go. The second daughter, ever proud and bold as she was, accepted the wager. And after a long grueling battle, the girl had best her father's monster. Though bloodied and bruised, the second princess stood tall; she had earned her freedom. Her once-perfect face was now marred with a scar, a reminder of all she had overcome. Once she had escaped the castle, the second princess could live as she pleased and regain contact with her beloved elder sister. The two princesses were finally free from the cruel oppression of their father and gained new family in the friends and allies they made during their training into knighthood.”

Penny: Wha-What about the son? What happened to him when his sisters left?

Penny inquires, fear creeping into her voice as she speaks. There was no doubt anymore; this story wasn’t anything but fiction. This was the tale of the Schnee family, and it was far worse than she could have imagined! How could a person be so cruel and trick someone into marrying, into having children with them just to steal their family’s legacy? And how could a father treat his children like objects he could control? And if Jacques had been so cruel that both his daughters ran away from home to get away from him, then how was he treating his son?

Penny’s mind races, and panic set in as she starts thinking over every interaction she’d had since she first came to the manor. Suddenly so much of the oddness and uncomfortably made sense. Willow’s coldness, the banned on Weiss and Winter’s names, and the dreadful aura around Jacques it was all so obvious! But this realization only exaggerated her worry along with her last question.

What had happened to Whitley during all of this?

Penny looks at Mary with pleading eyes, silently begging for an answer. Mary, however, does not meet her gaze, eyes trained on the notebook as she continues to read.

Mary: “But what of the youngest child, the young prince, and only son? Alas, his fate was far direr from his sisters.”

“The last born of the three, the prince lived blissfully with his family at the beginning of his formative years, unaware of the chaos browsing behind the scenes. He was a lovely child who showed care and love to everyone around him. He was always smiling, and the sound of his laughter filled anyone who heard it with joy. Unfortunately, this blissfulness did not last long, as the illusion of happiness he was born under would soon crumble before his very eyes.”

The day the Lord of Greed revealed his true self, the young prince and his sisters had heard the confrontation. And overnight, the world he knew was shattered completely. As the sisters grew closer through training, they grew distinct from the young prince, who was far too young to learn. Alongside their mother’s spiral into despair and the lord’s increasing cruelty, the prince was turned away by all he once held dear. Alone in the depths of a grand castle that grew colder and colder by the day.”

“Confused and afraid of being alone, the boy did the only thing he could do, behave. He would do his best to follow his father’s orders, comfort his hopeless mother when she cried, and reach out to his sisters whenever the chance arose. As the discourse continued, the prince watched the rest of the family carefully and learned their behavior patterns. Through this, he could sense when a fight was on the horizon and would seek to quell it before it could get out of hand. Oftentimes, this meant appeasing his father, regardless of how in the wrong he had been at the time, and to the prince accepting fault for things outside of his control.”

“It was a humiliating and heart-draining tactic, but the prince did not care. As long as he could keep things peaceful, he would withstand the pain. However, this method didn't yield the results he’d hoped for. The Lord had only grew crueler as the years went on; his mother had become completely docile, and his sisters, on dear heavens, his sisters. The eldest had not paid him much attention before she left, and the second had grown to dislike him. No, more than that, she was utterly disgusted by him. She hated that he wouldn’t fight as she did and thought of him as little more than the Lord's puppet! Going so far as to say it to his face when they disagreed”

“This cruel reality broke the prince from the inside; his kind heart could not withstand the pain anymore and shattered. He went numb as his soul grieved the life and family he’d lost. In that hollowed state, the prince contemplated what to do now that his only hope for a normal life had been lost. And he realized there was only one thing he could do…Survive.”

“He was trapped in this cruel palace by its master with no support, means of escape, or any way to defend himself, so the prince chose to co-exist with the evil around him. He took his shattered heart and made the pieces into a mirror. The mirror heart was unlike any other mirror as it could reflect want the viewer wanted to see but would also reveal their true nature to its wielder, the prince. “

“If the lord wished to see his obedience, the prince would show obedience. If the lord’s colleagues wished to see his charisma, the prince would show them charisma. And when the second princess wished to see trickery or mischief in him, the prince would show her exactly what she wanted to see. As he did, their true intentions echoed within him. With this, his ability to predict how they would behave and how to react grew stronger, allowing the prince to manipulate his situation to be a little more comfortable for himself and all those who served in the castle. He became the silent protecter to those in the castle and gained the Lord’s trust and approval. However, this process disillusioned his already ravaged soul, and the prince lost most faith in justice or innocence. The world was cold dark place where peace could never be found and the wicked abuse the kind and wind. That was how he viewed his life until the night of his coronation.”

Penny looks at Mary a bit confused as she tries to figure what event she could be talking about. Coronations had become obsolete along with the monarchies they were associated with. The word itself was barely used anywhere aside from some pageants or traditional fairs.

Penny: The closest thing to a coronation in the business world is a celebratory party for a promotion or-

Her eyes widen, and her gaze locks with Mary as the maid gives her a cold, knowing smile. She knew what this coronation was because she had been there. Mary notes her tension, and her gaze softens a bit. The girl had followed along with her game very well; even so, she needed to be sure there were no gray areas or misinterpretations of this part, else the whole plan would be for nothing. She takes a deep breath before starting on the next page.

Mary: “Surrounded by fake smiles and thinly veiled selfish ambition, the prince was named heir to the mining empire.”

“After hours of mingling with and entertaining the Lord of Greed’s guests, the prince retreated to the balcony farthest from the party. Stepping out into the cool night air, the prince leaned against the railing and looked up to the stars in contamination. The event had been particularly exhausting as it marked the beginning of a new, more difficult chapter in his life. Soon he’d have more responsibilities, more complex subjects to study, even more events to attend, and lose what little free time he had to work. Drained and solemn, the prince gazed up at the endless night sky, mind losing in the vastness of the star. In this state of serenity, the prince, unfortunately, loses his balance falling back off the balcony.”

“Feeling his body falling, the prince screamed and prayed that his death would be quick and clean. But instead of hitting the ground below him, he felt a hand grasp one of his wrists tightly, stopping his fall. Looking up, the prince met the gaze of a young girl in a green dress. Her eyes were spring green that seemed to glow lightly under the moonlight. Her skin was soft and pale, tiny freckles scattered across her body and dusting her rosy cheeks. Her hair, which flew carelessly against the wind, was a bright orange and fall just short of her waist, ending in tight curls that resembled a squirrel’s tail or a rolled baked sweet.”

“Sweet, that way to describe the girl. Regardless of the serious expression on her face and the oddly high amount of strength she had, she gave off a delicate and caring aura even in such a dangerous situation.”

“After she pulled him back up, the prince took a moment to collect himself and get a better look at the girl who had just saved. She looked to be his age but was utterly unfamiliar to him; he’d never seen her before, nor had he met anyone at the party who looked like her. Despite being such a prestigious event, the girl wore no makeup and seemed unsteady in her heels. Was this her first party in high society? The prince questioned to himself as they walked back inside.”

“The answer seemed to be yes because as soon as they returned, onlookers who had witnessed his rescue surrounded them. As they spouted fake concern, the prince noticed his savior had grown quiet under their gaze. Her brave attitude had melted into shyness and fear as she stood behind him and hid from the crowd. Having incurred a life debt to her and feeling pity for the poor girl, the prince guided her away from the crowd, asking her who he could return her to quietly as they walked away. She told him, yes, but they had been separated right after they arrived. Sympathizing with the girl’s plight, the prince decided to escort her back to the front of the ballroom.”

“They wandered through the grand hall dodging many nobles along the way. Eventually, they reached the dance floor, where the girl spotted her companion on the other side. Unfortunately for them, the bands had begun playing, and the party was in full swing, crowding the area so tightly there was no way to get around it. Running out of options prince took his young savior’s hands and led her into a waltz.”

“The girl, inexperienced and nervous, did her best to keep in rhythm while the prince led them across the floor. Her determination not to step on his feet was oddly endearing to the prince; he smiled as they danced from one side of the floor to the other. Once they reached the other side of the ballroom, the girl was finally reunited with her guardian, The captain of the kingdom’s empirical army. The prince was incredibly shocked by this revelation. The captain was a man known for his sense of duty and reluctance to engage in the social scene. So why was he here? With a young girl at his side, no less!”

“The prince inquired the Captain about this oddity only to discover the girl was no ordinary person but a knight. And not just any knight but one of the highest ranks, only a few tiers below him. The prince was astonished; this delicate little thing who was as shy as a mouse and looked as if she couldn’t hurt a fly was an elite knight.”

“How ridiculous!”

“He thought to himself, but rather than questioning it; the prince used the situation to his advantage. He thanked the young knight for saving his life and offered her etiquette lessons in exchange for the Captain’s support in one of the Lord’s endeavors. The Captain agreed, and just as the prince was about to leave, the young knight ran up to him and formally introduced herself.”

“With a smile and military salute, the sweet little knight, cheek bright in excitement and nervousness, finally gave her name and appreciation for his helpfulness.”

“This act warmed the prince’s heart in a way he’d never felt before. And once he returned to his quarters for the evening, the prince examined his mirrored heart as he slept. He was amazed to find that the girl's reflection held no difference from the way she presented herself. Her shyness, her fear, wonder, and kindness, they had all been real without even a hint of falsehood. No hidden motives or desires, just a genuinely kind heart acting of its own volition. This made the prince curious; how could something so strong be so gentle and lovely? The prince wondered as he dreamed; part of him hoped to find out more about the knight when they met again.”

Mary paused as she turned to the next page, stealing a glance at Penny as she looked up from the book. The poor redhead was a mix of worried and flustered by what she had just heard. She knew Whitley had a motive for helping her learn etiquette, but she hadn’t realized he had developed an interest in her that early on. Though now that she knew how he’d grown up, it made a lot of sense. Penny saved him because it was the right thing to do and was kind to him for no other reason than she liked him. It was nothing more than basic kindness and affection, yet the notion of such a thing was so foreign to him that her actions mystified him.

Penny: How cruel; he hadn't been treated well in so long that someone being genuinely kind to him seemed unnatural.

She thought sorrowfully; part of her wanting to run out into the hallway and go find Whitley. She wanted to ask him just how much he’d suffered all these years and what she could do to make it better. She wanted to tell him just how much she cared for him and that she’d never leave him. She wanted to let him cry on her shoulders, to let out all that pain, and feel safe. She wanted to protect him from this nightmare he’d been trapped in and free him of it! This desire to protect made her chest burn with sorrow and rage, so much so that she could feel her body heating up from the inside. As Penny tries to suppress her seething emotions, Mary picks up with the ending of the chapter.

Mary: “As for the little knight, she departed for home soon after the prince left them. Her heart a buzz with new memories and emotions.”

“She had never been to a party before and never could have imagined it turning out as it had. As she returned to her little home, sat in a village that lay right under the grand capital that floated in the sky, the knight was full of glee. She hopped through the house as she went to speak with her father and tell him about the wondrous evening she’d had. Her father, an elder weapon and puppet maker, was more than happy to hear his little girl’s story, and they sat down at the dining table and talked.”

Penny’s eyes widen in shock at the accuracy of Mary’s story, but this soon turns to worry as she realizes something isn’t right. But before she can question her on it, Mary's already moved on to the next paragraph.

Mary: “The knight spoke somberly of how cold and unkind the nobles had been to her when she first arrived.”

“Some had mocked her clothing and other’s eating habits, and many just seemed to dislike her at a glance. She felt so lost and had wandered away to the edge of the ballroom; that is where she heard the prince’s terrified scream. Without a second or even a first thought, she sprung into action and grabbed the prince’s arm before he could fall too far.”

“Aw, the prince, the moment the little knight looked down at the prince as she snatched him from near-certain death, she was stunned. He was so beautiful; his skin was flawless and so pale it almost looked porcelain. His hair was so white and soft that it resembled silk, and his beautiful blue eyes were as clear as the sky, deeper than the sea, and more brilliant than any gem she’d ever seen. And after he’d protected her from those terrible nobles and danced with her the little knight couldn’t help but be smitten with him. Though she kept most of these thoughts to herself, telling her father only a little of it before getting embarrassed and running off to her room.”

Penny buries her face in her hands as she tries to hide her blushing cheeks. Now this was just insane! How could she have known about all those things in such detail, right down to what she said?! She perks through her fingers to look at Mary, hoping to find clues in her expression as to how she knew all of this. Instead, Penny sees the same calm but knowing smile that Mary held throughout as she continued reading.

Mary: “The little knight washed up and got ready for bed, mind full of wistful thoughts. She changed into her nightgown, laid down on her bed, then pulled something curious from underneath it.”

“ It was a windup key used for music boxes and toys, but this key was far bigger than any other; it could barely fit the knight's hand as she held it. And as she took it out, a large toy hand reached over from across the room, the glove fingers reaching out for the key. The knight handed the gloved toy the key as she pulled up her nightgown. With the fabric out of the way, a hole appeared in the middle of her back. The hand guided the key into the hole, and as it clicked into place, the little knight’s eyes shut tight as she drifted off to sleep. And as she slumbered, the hand turned the key throughout the night.”

As she’s finishing the line, Mary reaches over and ghosts a hand on Penny’s back. Right, where her charger port and the hole for the knight’s wind-up key would be. Penny’s body tensed as she felt a chill run down her spine when Mary’s hand got close. Her fear begins to rise as she finally realizes her cover was in danger of being blown.

Penny: She couldn’t know that-but how? I didn’t-there’s no way she-

Mary: “Wind-

Her frightened thoughts are interrupted by Mary’s voice chiming out the word “wind” as her hand grasps an imaginary key and twists it once-

Mary: “Wind-

Twice-

Mary: “Wind.”

And a third time before pulling her hand back and closing the book. She sets it down on the table then turns to look at Penny, whose face is full of terror. She was too confused and afraid to question her. So the blood-haired maid asks her a question instead.

Mary: So, what did you think of my story, little toy knight?

She stated in a cold matter-of-fact tone that told Penny everything she needed to know. She’d been made. Penny started to shake, so many questions and worries filling her mind at once. How? When? Why? Had she told anyone? Who had she told? How many people knew? Did any of the other staff know?.. Did Whitley know? All of these rushed through her read like raging bullets, hitting every one of her insecurities as they shot through her psyche. Only one managed to escape past her lips on her now shaky, fearful voice.

Penny: H-How long…How long have you known?

Mary: How long? That…doesn’t matter. What matters is I do.

She says with no emotion, not even a change in expression, as she peers down at her with an empty gaze. Penny’s breathing quickens as her anxiety skyrockets due to Mary’s blasé attitude towards this massive secret. Mary notes this and puts a hand on Penny's shoulder, her gaze softening into a more sympathetic and caring look. She takes a deep breath before speaking up.

Mary: Relax, dear; I haven’t told anyone of your true nature, nor do I intend to.

Penny: Then why did you-

Mary: Include it in the story? Dramatic flare honesty that and it made for good leverage. I needed to be sure you’d listen to what I had to say once our little story time was over. And I knew that would grab your attention.

Penny: So, you wrote that ending mainly to blackmail me?

Penny spits out, her fear transforming into anger as Mary’s causal attitude to putting her in this stressful situation irks her. It was clear this woman had some motive for doing this and could no longer be treated as an ordinary civilian. She had uncovered a military secret and was using it to intimidate a soldier; this could not stand. Mary doesn’t fold at her shift to sternness; in fact, she was hoping for it. A smile creeps onto her face as she explains her reasons.

Mary: Yes.

Penny: For what purpose? What information is so important that you’d risk military involvement?

Mary: Oh, Penny, this has nothing to do with the military. This is about your relationship with Young Master.

Penny: What about our relationship? What does my interest in him have to do with you?!

Mary: Oh, poor little knight, you really don't see it, do you? I know you care for him deeply, that you might even be in love with him. That’s why I had to tell you the truth.

Penny: And that truth is?

Mary: You can’t save him.

All the air leaves her body for a moment as Mary’s statement sets in. Her eyes are blank as she tries to process what she just heard.

Penny:…What?

Mary: From Jacques, from this manor, you can’t save him. You can’t save him from this life.

Penny: What? What are you talking about?!

Mary: Think back to the story, Penny; the man tricked many people and broken his own family to get what he wanted. Do you think you can stop him from shaping his son into the ideal heir he’s worked so hard to obtain?

Penny: If that shaping requires abusing him, then yes! Abusing a minor is an illegal act that all law enforcement is mandated to report!

Mary: If that’s true, why did the Schnee sisters have to run away and join the armed forces to escape him?

Mary’s logic stops Penny in her tracks; though flawed, this was a good question as Penny hadn’t heard about the abuse in Schnee's household until now. Winter nor Ironwood had said anything about it before or after she started visiting the manor, even though one of them had experienced it firsthand. So, why?

Mary: If a simple investigation into his actions could send someone like Jacques away, it would have happened years ago. But it hasn’t.

Penny: But how?

Mary: The man has only two skills outside of spending money, lying his way into power and using underhanded tactics to keep. I mean, he sent a dangerous Grimm after his own daughter, but outside of her words and a scar, there’s little to no evidence it ever happened.

Penny: Even so, I still-

Mary: And why else do you think General Ironwood took Winter in as soon as he could and advocates for Weiss to go to Beacon when he has such a strained business relationship with their father?

Penny: No, you don’t mean that-he wouldn’t-The general would never let this continue if he knew about it!

Mary: Not if he couldn’t do anything to stop it. With no proof, no witnesses, and complaining parties disappearing before anything meaningful could happen, not even the mighty General Ironwood could stop him.

Penny: No, that’s just not fair.

Penny hangs her head down, a wave of helplessness crashing into her spirit. It was true that Ironwood didn't like Jacques Schnee, but to think this was the reason and that he couldn’t stop it was heartbreaking. Such a depressing truth was like a weight dropping down on her, crushing her heart in a slow press.

Mary: As for your relationship with Whitley-

Penny pulls her head back and looks at Mary intensely. What more did she have to say after that devastating blow?

Mary: I understand that you have feelings for him, and your first instinct is to protect him from harm. But the truth of the matter is that Young Master has lived his life embroiled in betrayal and deceit; he was born from it. So how can you say you truly care for him when your identity to him is a lie? And if you do, are you still willing to act on your instincts when it will do more harm than good for both of you?

Penny: I-I-

Penny didn’t answer; she couldn't. All this time, her biggest insecurity about her relationship with Whitley was that she wasn't an ordinary human girl. No matter how close she was to real, there would always be a difference, no matter how slight. But even if she wasn’t human, she could still love and protect him better than anyone! At least, that’s what she thought. But now, in this moment, Penny was inadequate. She wasn't enough to give the person she loved what he deserved, no matter how much she wanted to be. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she began to sob quietly. Mary pats her back, allowing the girl a moment to get her feelings out before she continues.

Mary: I’m not asking you to stop loving him or even to distance yourself from him. I’m asking you to be aware of where you are and who you’re dealing with. If Jacques finds out what you are, he will use it against Ironwood, against you, and Young Master if he thinks he’ll gain something from it. So, for everyone’s sake, please be careful.

Penny doesn’t speak; instead, nodding in agreement with Mary. What else could she do in such an awful situation? She had to accept the reality of what she’d learned as she cried from the pain, misery, and frustration it caused.

While Penny weeps in the quiet library, Whitley is finally wrapping up his long phone conversation.

Beaufort: And that’s how I retrofitted my old diamond chandelier into the special party favors I put onto the invitations! They turned out sensationnel!

Whitley: That’s wonderful, and as excited as I am to go, I must be on my way so-

Beaufort: Speaking of the invitations, there was another reason I called you!

Whitley: And that is?

Beaufort: I was wondering if you knew the contact information for that delightful red-headed girl!

Whitley: Excuse me?

Beaufort: The red-haired girl! She had a red ribbon in her hair and guarded Hellobore’s daughter from that brute Beelzan!

Whitley’s eyes widen in shock; he keeps his voice even as he tries to pry for more details.

Whitley: Are you referring to the girl that gave me a bouquet after I had Beelzan removed?

Beaufort: Yes!

Whitley: I see; then yes I do know her. Her name is Penny, Penny Polendina.

Beaufort: Oh, magnifique! Please send me her details so I can send her an invitation out with the rest!

Whitley: Her invitation? You're inviting her to the grand mystère ball?

Beaufort: Oui! A cute little face, paired with such a fierce attitude, is just what I needed to add some special spice to the guest list!

Whitley: Of course, that’s why. Well as much as I’d like to give her address Penny’s a very private person and won’t appreciate the intrusion.

Beaufort: Fichu!

Whitley: But if you send hers along with mine and Father’s, I’ll be sure she receives it before the ball.

Beaufort: Really? Merci dear Whitley! I’ll call my delivery staff right now and update them, so they don't swing by twice in one day.

Whitley: Wait, twice in one day? Are you saying it’s-

Beaufort: Thanks for then talks and your assistance ma chère, I’ll see you at the party! Au revoir!

Beaufort chirps before hanging up, leaving Whitley staring at his scroll as he feels a headache on the horizon. This was going to be tough; preparing for this on his own was already going to be a hassle but prepping Penny as well was going to be exhausting. But with no chance to decline he’ll just have to make it.

Whitley: Hopefully, we’ll have enough time to pull this off.

He thinks to himself before letting out a short sigh and heading back into the library. Once he’s back in, the first thing Whitley as he gets close to their seating area is the bleak expression on Penny’s face. Immediately worried, he rushes towards them, the view of dried trails running from her eyes to her cheeks becoming more apparent as he gets close. He runs past Mary directly to Penny’s side; as she turns to face him, Whitley can see more tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Damn it! He knew she was still unstable after her breakdown, but still, he let her push past her limits again. As guilt begins to creep in, Whitley weeps away Penny’s tears, kneels down in front of her, and pulls her into his arms.

In his embrace, Penny falls under her own cloud of guilt. She was disgusted with herself for accepting his consoling touch while knowing how vulnerable he really was, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away. She just wanted to take him away, to run away somewhere far and safe where no one could hurt him or find them again. But she couldn’t. There were too many variables, consequences, and lies between them for that to happen. All she could do now was accept things as they were and wait. Wait and pray. Wait for permission to tell him the truth, the whole truth and pray he could love her as she is. And forgive her for being another falsehood in his life.

Once she’s calmed down, Whitley pulls away and caresses her cheeks. His eyes are full of sympathy and concern with a glint of desperation as he softly chastises her.

Whitley: I told you not to push yourself too hard, didn't I? But no, you choose to be stubborn as always.

He says jokingly before giving her a soft smile, clearly trying to turn her mood around. This garners a tiny smile from Penny, but before she can speak, Mary cuts in.

Mary: Apologies, Young Master, this was my fault. I decided to read Ms. Polendina, a story while we waited for you to return. It seems that that particular tale was a bit too dark and it overwhelmed her.

Whitley: is that so?

He states questioningly to Penny. Penny takes a moment to think of her response. She could say yes, and it would be accurate, but then Whitley would still be worried about her. But if she told the whole truth, it might lead to a much more complicated conversation; one Penny wasn’t ready to have. At least not yet. And so-

Penny: Yes, it was a really sad story, and I didn't handle it well.

Penny told her first truly self-serving half-truth. Whitley patted her head and let out a sigh of relief before getting back up on his feet.

Whitley: Well, we’ll certainly have to abstain from reading any more of those types of stories again. Now then, I have something important to tell-

Hannah: Young Master!

Suddenly Hannah burst through the library doors, shouting for Whitley. She runs towards them, almost entirely out of breath, stopping right in front of them to catch her breath. She tries to speak through labored breathing.

Hannah: There’s (huff, huff) a spec-(huff, huff) special delivery (huff, huff) at the door. (huff, huff) Carrier (huff, huff) needs (huff, huff) residents’ signature and (huff, huff) Master’s (huff, huff) busy.

She gets her message out before turning around and walking back toward the entrance, Whitley, Penny, and Mary following close behind. The four make their way to the main entrance, where a young man dressed as an o royal messenger, complete with gold horn under his arm, stands holding three gift boxes in his arms. Each box is a different size and beautifully decorated in different wrapping, one light pink, the other royal blue, and the last pure white. The man spots Whitley coming towards him and bows to him as soon as he’s close.

Messenger: Young Lord Whitley Nicholas Schnee?

Whitley: Yes?

The messenger steps back, puts the boxes under his arms, puts his horn to his lips, and plays a short tone before bowing.

Messenger: The house Beaufort would like to congratulate you, Lord Jaques Schnee, and Lady Penny Polendina. For you have been deemed worthy of attending the grand mystère ball!

He states with all the passion of a seasoned theater student. Placing his horn back under his arm, he pulls and cupboard out from underneath the gifts, then holds both out to Whitley, head bowed toward the floor. Whitley takes the pen chained to the board, which is decorated like a quill pen, signs the form, and takes the first box from the stack. It’s the smallest and covered in pink, so Whitley assumes it’s for Penny. He holds it out to her before grabbing the other two.

Whitley: Here, open yours first.

Penny: Are you sure?

Whitley: Yes, but be careful. I have no idea what’s in there.

Penny: Okay.

She says with caution before taking the box in her hands. It was rather cute, decorated in a plaid patterned baby pink wrapping and tied with a belle pink bowtie. Oddly the wrapping covers the lid and box separately, making the ribbon the only thing keeping the box close. As she runs her fingers across it, Penny feels slight movement from the inside. It was any too rough, just little light taps so soft most people wouldn’t notice. Even so Penny turns away from everyone and holds the box away from her body as she undoes the bowtie. Once the ribbons are off, Penny pulls the lid off, and several butterflies come flying out of the box and up to the ceiling. Penny watches them go in shock and wonder while Whitley gets annoyed.

Whitley: Great; now we’ll have to get the nets out again.

He quips. As the butterflies disperse, Penny looks back down into the gift box to find a pair of diamond earrings, a black gold-trimmed invitation card, and a masquerade mask. The mask was half silver and black with a butterfly motif with diamonds embedded in its ornate patterns. It’s truly gorgeous; as Penny gazes at it, Whitley reaches over and takes out the card. He opens it and skims past to find all the pleasantries to find the date for the ball. When his eyes finally lock onto the date, Whitley’s veins run cold. Next Sunday the Grand Mystère Ball was to be held next Sunday.

Whitley: Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

[mydiazboys]

JUNE [TUWYAN]

Leah was sitting up, nursing Gabrielle when she heard footsteps out in the hallway. Beside her, Eddie was passed out. He had come in during the early hours of the morning, Leah had just been putting Gabrielle back to bed after a diaper change. So now, she didn’t have the heart to wake him for anything.

Christopher’s head popped in through the door, a bright and cheery smile on his face as he made his way in, getting himself cosied up on Leah’s other side. This was a normal weekend morning for the three, sometimes with Eddie added if he hadn’t worked the previous night.

“Did daddy finish late?” Christopher asked, as he peaked a look at his father, who was laid out on his stomach. A soft snore escaping his lips.

“Yeah, he did. We’re gonna let him sleep a little this morning, okay?” She whispered to him, kissing the top of his head. Of course, it was Father’s Day. And the pair had plans to spoil the elder Diaz.

Christopher nodded his head, turning his attention to the baby as he whispered his good mornings to his sister.

“Alright, trouble. Let’s get you set up with some cartoons, Gabby is gonna snooze a little more and I’ll tidy up the mess from dinner last night,” she said, grinning softly as the boy was getting up and making his way to the living room. Leah got up, cradling the baby to her chest as she looked down at the sleeping man in the bed. Oh yeah, she was getting used to this.

It was a little later in the day, the mess in the kitchen was cleared and now replaced with a new mess - but don’t worry, Leah was going to clear it up. She could hear Christopher in the living room, explaining his show to the now awake baby who was in her bouncer.

Arms slowly snaked around Leah’s waist, and she let out a startled gasp. Her fingers released the spoon she was holding to mix up the pancake mix, turning around in his arms slowly. Her fingers, albeit they were covered in mix, reached up to cup his neck softly.

“You should be asleep,” she mumbled to him, but that didn’t stop her from reciprocating the kiss he planted on her lips. He hummed out against her, brushing his nose against hers slowly.

“I did sleep,” he pointed out, a sleepy grin on his face.

“How much do I have to pay you to disappear and pretend to be asleep?” She whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Christopher is really looking forward to waking you up.”

He hummed, narrowing his eyes as he pretended to think about it for a moment, before stealing a kiss from her lips. “How long do you need?” He asked, glancing around at the mess with a raised brow.

“I’m gonna tidy it up after breakfast,” she slapped at his shoulder, before she was shooing him back to the bedroom.

When it came time to wake Eddie, she was pushing open the door and allowing Chris to enter first. He was carefully carrying the breakfast in bed tray, with Leah following close behind with the baby in her arms.

“Daddy! Daddy, wake up!” Christopher called, a bright grin on his face as he walked around to Eddie’s side. Leah watched as the elder feigned sleep for a little longer, as Christopher set the tray on the bed beside him. “Daddy, happy father’s day!”

“Thank you, mijo,” Eddie said, his voice rough from sleep and Leah was sure he had fallen back asleep after he woke up briefly. “Did you cook this for me?”

“No,” Christopher laughed, shaking his head as Eddie was sitting up, moving the tray and then lifting Chris up against his side. “Leah cooked it.”

“But you helped me chop up the fruits and pour in the blueberries, didn’t you?”

Eddie smiled affectionately at the blonde, before he was gently lifting Gabrielle into his arms, kissing her face gently. “Good morning, princesa.”

Eddie was absolutely smitten by his two children, which everyone knew when he was a single father to Christopher. But now that he had Gabrielle as well, everyone was seeing just how much. He was never giving one more attention than the other, he made attempts to involve Christopher in everything with Gabrielle.

And then, his relationship with Leah was developing. It started after she had a breakdown in the middle of the night, a couple of weeks after Gabrielle had been born. She felt like she was failing everyone because she couldn’t soothe her daughter. Eddie had taken over, soothed Gabrielle back to sleep and then turned his attention fully on her. Soothing her, reminding her that they were still learning. They were in this together.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were, or how serious things were. They were just enjoying the time they had together. They also hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else - well, except for the kiss he had stolen from her at the housewarming gathering that the family had overheard on the baby monitor. Leah didn’t know about that though.

“Sorry we’re late, someone had an accident right as we were about to leave,” Leah apologised as they were walking into the Grant-Nash household.

As usual, the family were getting together for a holiday. It seemed a given at this point, and nobody was going to complain if it meant they got an extra Bobby meal. It appeared that they were the last ones to arrive, but they also had a young baby.

These get-togethers were something Leah looked forward to, as she was seeing her fire-family significantly less these days. Eddie would facetime between calls sometimes, and they would make appearances if they happened to be in the area. But she got a lot less time with them, compared to when she was working.

Leah embraced Hen tightly, the first person she had seen. Buck might be her best friend, but she had just as much love for everyone else on the team. Buck had gotten up from his seat, and was hugging Eddie before cooing at the baby, who obviously had him wrapped around her finger already. He had also claimed the first cuddles as he settled back into his seat, cradling Gabrielle to his chest. And then Eddie and Leah were both going around hugging everyone. Christopher had joined Denny and Harry with whatever game they were playing.

“Look at you,” Athena gasped, holding the woman in her arms, raising her brow. “You trying to impress someone?” She teased, wiggling her brows playfully.

“This was an outfit change,” Leah admitted, with a laugh as she rubbed her eye a little. “Gabby had a massive blowout, while I was holding her.”

“Oh, girl,” Hen shook her head. “No wonder you were forcing Eddie to carry her in,” she teased, as the Texan joined them in the kitchen.

“What did I do?” He asked, glancing at them as he was grabbing a juicebox for Christopher, his brow raised.

“Gabby’s blowout,” Leah laughed, before looking back at her friend. “I didn’t force him, he grabbed the carseat from me automatically.”

“I don’t see you fighting to keep it,” he teased, winking playfully as he pierced the juicebox with a straw before taking it out to Christopher.

Leah had found herself tucked between Eddie and Buck, Gabrielle asleep on her chest, knocked out from a feed. Things were beginning to quiet down now, with bellies filled with Bobby’s meal and the late night from the previous shift catching up to the first responders. Eddie was definitely dozing beside her, where she and Buck were talking quietly.

“You’ve really got an amazing life,” Buck whispered, admiring the baby against her chest.

Leah felt so sorry for Buck, as his recent girlfriend, Ali, had left him after she realised he wouldn’t be giving up his life of being a firefighter. “You’ll have this one day,” she promised him, kissing his cheek softly. “But until then, Uncle Bugsy is more than welcome to come over any day he wishes.”

Buck smiled down at her, kissing her head gently, “You’re amazing, Ladybug.”

[frecklepeckle]

doing my own delayed gratification experiment by covering my hands in glue and waiting for it to dry properly so peeling it will be more satisfactory

[cursed-ice-spirits]

Dearest Crow

The aftermath of Ollie’s ( @ryollie ) death was... something. 

(The Mc I decided to try my hand at writing today is Lian Jardine @murkyike) 

...To be honest, I don’t think I’m taking Ollie’s well. I don’t think ANY of us are taking it well. This year was already terrible enough, and now... I feel bad for the Potters. They lost their second son. Gods, my hand is shaking now - I thought I got rid of this by preparing myself beforehand but I guess not. 

Okay I’m getting this out as quickly as I can. My name is Rebecca Vivian Lord, Lady of House Lord, 6th year, age 17, cursed to die from ice, and I never thought any of my friends would die before I would. At all, actually, but fate has other plans. Naomi was right, that’s for sure. 

Losing someone you know and love will never hurt less each time it happens. I should know. I lost quite a few of my loved ones and the pain only gets worse each time. And so has Talbott. He’s been shut up in the Owlery since it happened, or so I’ve heard, although it’s likely he IS there. It’s Talbott after all. I don’t blame him. Nobody has been doing okay, and Ollie’s death after everything that’s been going on was the last straw on the camel’s back.

However… Hogwarts morale is extremely low and vulnerable. I’m ashamed it took me focusing on R to get rid of my grief to realize this. This can’t happen any longer. I can’t allow the school to be targeted so R can get to the final Vault. So, I came up with an idea. Something I should have done in the first place. 

I’m going through the same procedure for every death I’ve cried and grieved over. 

I hope this will work or at least make the grieving process easier. It worked for me but everyone grieves differently. 

Getting the materials required will be easy. I have done this before and getting green petals is not difficult. I just need the right shade of green, which shouldn’t be hard, seeing as I am an artist and I’ve drawn him a few times. Getting my memories is not difficult. Getting the others? Easier said than done, especially since Ollie seems to have friends all over the place and only a few of them are my friends as well. And that’s just excluding Talbott. 

Really a testament on how social I truly am.

Regardless, a challenge is a challenge. I’m going to see if I can find them all. Wish me luck and pray I get this done in time. 

R.V.L

--

Rebecca sat in an empty classroom, twirling the stem of a flower idly in her hand, not minding the way the tiny thorns poke at her fingertips. Green - the color of Ollie’s eyes - petals filled the basket sat in front of her, some spilling over the floor, and some drifting into the casket as she carefully plucked them one by one. When the last petal had been plucked, she slowly lifted her other hand, watching the petals slowly regrew. 

“That should be enough,” she murmured, reaching for the petals on the floor and dropping them back into the basket, setting down the flower. Her eyes flickered to the other basket, filled with empty vials, sat to her left and, sighing, carefully reached for one. “Time for the hard part.”

She had just put her wand to her temple when a paper, claw-like material suddenly landed on her shoulder, talons curling around it. A glance showed a paper dragon perched on her right shoulder, stretching its tiny body. She raised her eyebrows, recognizing the creator immediately just from the sight of the origami alone and turned around. 

“Thought you’d be here,” Lian Jardine stepped into the classroom, Lucifer at her heels. Even from where she was sitting, Rebecca can see the heaviness set under her eyes and immediately felt sympathy, knowing the girl rarely showed emotion since the day.

“Hey, Lian,” Rebecca greeted softly, setting her wand down and patting the space next to her, smiling. “Hey Lucifer,” she laughed seconds later as the large black dog came running over, sticking his nose in her face. 

Lian smiled back, although hollow, and walked over, hand set on her waist, which had her usual green scarf tied around it. Her eyes flickered to the wall as she lowered herself to the ground, likely searching for her art supplies. “You’re not painting?”

Rebecca’s lips twitched into a brief smile, remembering how they first met. She reached over with her free hand and scratched behind Lucifer’s ears, chuckling when his tail started wagging. “No, I’m starting on a new project.” She glanced at the Slytherin to watch her reaction and got an idea. Lian knows quite a few of Ollie’s friends and while she hates asking this of her, she really wants to honor Ollie’s memory. “Can you do me a favor?” After a moment of hesitation, she added, “It’s for Ollie.”

Lian’s face shifted into one of pain, looking ready to cry, the heaviness under her eyes growing obvious.  Lucifer let out a soft whine, climbing over Rebecca’s lap and stretching so the upper half of his body laid across Lian’s lap in an attempt to comfort her. Rebecca waited patiently, feeling the origami dragon settle across her shoulders, head tucked into the crook of her neck, and watched as Lian idly scratched Lucifer’s head, taking a deep breath, and looking over to her. 

“What is it?” 

Rebecca leaned a bit closer. “Well…”

--

Most of the preparations are done, thanks to Lian gathering memories and spreading word. I didn’t know what I was expecting knowing Ollie had several friends but most of the vials were already used up by the time Lian got through her friends and some. I bought more but it really is a huge testament on how much I socialize.

I am exhausted though. I don’t think I’ve slept in a week and god knows how many wideye potions I’ve drank. I know Jason and Lucia will murder me if they found out but I need to improve the spell since I’ve never worked with several memories from different people at once so this will totally be worth it. 

Now, for the person I saved for last and the person I told Lian I would be talking to.Talbott. 

It’s going to be a tad difficult. This is not the first time Talbott had to witness a loved one’s death and I know he’ll go back to not letting anyone in. I… know that this will work without him, but he is Ollie’s boyfriend, and I know he’ll want to honor Ollie’s memory. 

Okay, tonight's the night. I’m going to try to convince him to give me some of his memories and come with me to see everything. If he refuses, then it’ll start without him. I’m not forcing him to come.

Last entry of this project.

R.V.L

--

Rebecca winced as the door creaked loudly upon opening it, glancing behind her briefly and instinctively before carefully stepping inside the Owlery, the basket dangling on her arm. Darkness seemed to swallow the room up. Moonlight shined through the windows, giving her some light to see. Brushing her hair out of her face, she took a few steps forward, bones of mice and vole crunching under her feet, eyes moving over the various owls perched above her head (she can see her own black owl among them, head tucked under her wing) until they landed on a lone eagle sitting on the window sill of one of the windows.

For a moment, she hesitated then sighed, knowing that the bones would have alerted him to her presence if she stayed silent, and even if it hadn’t, this needed to be done. She spoke up.

“Talbott.”

The eagle went still for several seconds, then slowly and before her eyes transformed into a hunched figure curled against the wall. He raised his head, looking straight at her, the dark bags under his red eyes made more obvious with the moonlight shining on his face. 

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice rough. She didn’t comment on how it sounded like he had been crying recently. “At this hour? Why?”

“Should be asking you, bud.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. She saw him flinch and sighed. “Can I fly up?”

He blinked slowly at her. “Yeah sure,” he said, looking away. “Go ahead.”

Shifting into her animagus form, she flew up, circling around the school owls and ducking under perches, until she finally landed beside her friend. “You look like shit by the way,” Rebecca said immediately when she shifted back. “When did you last sleep?

Talbott eyed her reproachfully. “Hypocrite.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes, sending the message clear that she already knows how much of a hypocrite she is but wanting him to answer anyway. “Talbott.” 

Huffing, he folded his arms, looking out at the night sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “It’s all been a blur. I… I keep thinking he’s there by my side every morning and every time I get disappointed he’s not. It...” He gripped at his hair. “It hurts.”

She clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, bud - it never gets easier when it comes to losing the people you love.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “No kidding. What are you doing here anyway? I know you’re not just here to check up on me.” She didn’t have to answer, however, because his eyes landed on her basket and widened. “Is that-?”

She tapped a finger against the strap of the basket, remembering how she told him about this ritual to mourn the deaths of her loved ones. “Yeah.”

“How are you already moving on?”

“I’m not,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “Believe me. I’m not. Never was in the first place. Just… wanted to do something to honor him. That’s all.”

Talbott started at her long and hard. “You want my memories,” He said simply. It wasn’t a question but Rebecca nodded anyway.

“You don’t have to, of course, but maybe it’ll make the grieving process easier.” She scooted over and poked his shoulder. “Sitting here all alone and bottling everything up isn’t going to work.”

Talbott slapped her hand away. “It worked for me,” He said, scowling. “I thought you said I didn’t have to.”

“I said you didn’t have to give me your memories,” Rebecca retorted. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you here to brood. You’re not alone in this. I know it’s been hard but… come on, please don’t shut yourself away. At least go to everyone else to mourn.”

Clenching his jaw, Talbott averted his eyes away. “A load of good that did me.”

“Talb- oh,” Rebecca sighed, realizing what he was talking about. His mother. Losing his mother is one thing, losing his boyfriend is another and if her assumations are correct, being afraid he’ll lose another is understandable. “Bud, I was in your place before and it didn’t do any favors for my mental health. I’m not going to force you to go to everyone but this isn’t healthy. Just-” Her eyes move to the basket, her eyes starting to stung. “-fuck’s sake Talbott. I-I miss him too. Don’t do this alone.”

No answer from the boy sitting next to her. Sighing, Rebecca rolled up her sleeve and checked the time on her watch, noting it’s very late, and pushed herself to her feet, the gold shining in the moonlight. 

“I have to go. Get everything ready. Think about it, okay? And… please don’t do anything stupid.”

She was just about to turn into her Animagus form and take flight when a hand snagged against her wrist. 

Talbott stood beside her, his gaze pointed at his feet, dark fingers curled around her wrist. In his other hand, he held a vial filled with white wispy material. 

Memories, she realized. Pursuing her lips, Rebecca reached out, gently plucking the vial out of his loose grip and placing it inside her basket, her eyes never leaving his face as she tried picking her words before leaving. But what is there to be said that he hasn’t already heard? That he wouldn’t be sick of hearing again?

So instead, she clapped a hand over his shoulder and intoned softly, “Don’t do anything stupid,” even though she knew it’ll be useless, before stepping back and shifting into her animagus form, flying into the night. 

The last thing she saw of him was Talbott looking at the feather necklace around his neck.

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s just waiting for class to start, trading jokes with her friends and slapping Ollie’s arm off her shoulder when he tried using her as an armrest due to how much shorter she is compared to him. 

But the illusion is shattered once she opens her eyes and finds herself on top of the Astronomy Tower with no friends in sight and certainly no Ollie teasing her height. 

Rebecca set the basket on the ground, eyes scanning the vials set over the green petals before plucking out one with her name on it. Closing her eyes to compose herself for a moment, she popped the vial open and flicked her wand, watching the wispy material float into the air. 

“Test run,” she murmured, directing the material to the petals, fusing the memories into them. Another flick of her wand sent the petals drifting into the air, twisting and spinning in the air, some of the memories starting to peel away and form shapes. A relieved smile flashed over her face, the wispy material forming two figures. One of the figures formed Ollie while other formed herself, sitting down and drawing something in a sketchbook.

“What are you drawing there?”  Memory Ollie gripped Memory Rebecca’s shoulders, looking at the sketchbook curiously, then snorted. “Diego again? So what were you saying about him before, Miss I-Don’t-Fancy-Caplan.”

“Don’t look!” Memory Rebecca protested, slamming the sketchbook closed. “I… look, just because I draw him doesn’t mean I like him!”

“Why do you keep drawing him if you don’t like him, then?” Memory Ollie asked, laughing, folding his arms over her head.

“He’s a good muse!” Memory Rebecca defended herself. “The point is I don’t like him like that just because I like drawing him. Come on, I draw all of my friends!”

“Mmmmhmmm,” He hummed. “Well, if you don’t like him…” He reached over and placed a hand on the sketchbook, flashing her a smirk that screamed ‘I got an idea and I’m up to no good’.  “Then you won’t mind if I show him!” With that, he curled his fingers around the edge of the sketchbook and pulled it out of her grip and ran off, cackling.

“Ollie!” She roared and tore off after him. 

“Fuck,” Rebecca said, feeling something wet roll down her cheek. She turned away from the scene, placing down her wand, and started rubbing furiously at her eyes until they turn red and puffy, not caring if the petals floated back to the ground and the memory faded. And yet the tears just keep on coming. “I-fuck.”

She didn’t realize how much she missed him until she remembered exactly how much of a shithead he is when it comes to teasing. Gods allmighty - the amount of times she told him to knock it off and now she misses his teasing, this isn’t fair. Why did he had to be killed, why did he had to go-

Suck it up, she told herself, trying to rub the last of her tears away. Suck it up. Just continue and you’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her wand again and took another vial. 

Ollie will be remembered. She’ll make sure of it. 

[dinglemingle]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Two baby!

[tackyink]

AND ALSO Saki/Law #9, the hiding from authorities ;)))))

9. We’rehiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feelyour body against mine.

The lasttwo days had consisted of nothing but one poor decision after another. Raidingthat patrol ship, docking so near to a Navy base, picking a fight with thatcrew of wimps – she swears she doesn’t remember a single face from bountyposters, and she is good at remembering, thank you very much – and making ascene at the nightclub, as if Jean Bart’s size wasn’t enough to attract theattention of everybody within a mile, and before they knew the rival crew wasflying through the clubs’ windows and the Marines on the island were onto themand everybody had split up to escape and she and Law had ended up squeezinginto a tiny dark alley that smelled like sorrow and regret, as many are wont todo late at night. That had possibly been the poorest decision of all, with hisbody pressed against hers and an arm wrapped around her from when he had pushedher into the alley and his breath unintentionally fanning against her ear.Meanwhile, the soldiers ran down the street ignoring their hiding spot, becausenobody who valued their bodily integrity would have chosen to step in there.

Law shiftedto look better at what was going on outside the alley, and the contact senttingles down Saki’s spine. Definitelythe poorest decision of the week.

“You couldhave just taken them out,” she whispered, trying to be annoyed so she couldn’tthink about other things, like the tattooed hand running down her arm and stopping rightabout where her waist was and that maybe, maybe,someday he’d let her fix, and thankgoodness that he was an easy person to get annoyed at.

She saw himsmirk from the corner of her eye, and he said, “I will if I have to, but wherewould the fun be in that?”

“You thinkthis is fun?” And she meant the alley, with its sticky ground and grimywalls and puddles of best left unknown origin, but she was slightly out ofbreath and kind of smirking as well, so when she spoke it came out very different, andshe wasn’t sure she even minded.

His chestrumbled against hers as he said, “You don’t?” and leaned even closer, and whenhe saw she made no attempt to get away, the hand on her arm slipped to hertorso and his fingers began to trace a line following the waistband of herpants.

Saki stoodon her tiptoes, bodies brushing smoothly, and the dim yellow glow of thestreetlights made it impossible to tear her eyes away from his, golden andwanting and half lidded, as she closed the inches between their lips, becauseshe figured one more poor decision to add to the record wouldn’t make adifference anymore and the night was still young and not completely lost.