the night had gone thick with blood, painted red and all sweet smelling but sharp, slow and dripping as alec stood against that brick wall, his chest rising hard and fast. the streets were wet with rain, the air dense with humid thunder and his veins felt swampy with it as he watched magnus pull a sword out of one of their bloodied chests. with fingers still humming from arrows loosed until he ran out, the adrenaline had gone heavy in a way that was clouding his senses.
it was hard not to when magnus was standing there lit up by the red strip of light over the door opposite them. his long black coat picked up by the wind and his eyes glowing yellow in the darkness of the alleyway. he was half draped in shadow, half glowing red, blood dripping off his blade as he stepped over another dead body. his broad chest rose and fell heavy, turning his head to stare out towards the main road. red light licked up the edge of his jaw and alec’s breath was caught on the barbed wire of his chest as he stepped closer, blood thudding heavy in his ears.
“all clear,” magnus murmured, gaze swinging back. but alec’s eyes were glued to his mouth, the wetness on his lower lip and the darkness of his goatee. his mind was fastened to what they had been doing before this all began and magnus knew that. which was why as alec closed that space the sound of the seraph blade clattering against the asphalt echoed through the empty alleyway, and magnus’s hands grabbed at alec’s thighs just as their mouths caught hot and wet.
CEO!YOONGI ▊ ▏I Have Listened To Every Lie : Chapter 2
The oak doors to Yoongi’s office are pulled open, the heavy wood making a soft shoop-ing sound against the dark blue herringbone tiles. Yoongi stands courteously as Jin strolls in, but forgoes the formal bow given that Jin’s such a familiar face. Doesn’t he usually have briefcase? Yoongi thinks. He gives the man a brief smile and leads him towards the sitting area. His assistant pours them both some herbal tea.
“Jin, thanks for coming.” They are way past honorifics at this point. “No briefcase, I see.”
Jin rolls his eyes and kicks up a foot on the table. “I heard through the grapevine that you’ve done something incredibly stupid once again, and I was prepared to haul your ass out of whatever hole you’ve dug yourself long before you asked for me.”
“I guess this ‘grapevine’ goes by the name Kim Namjoon?”
Jin laughs, and unbuttons his suit jacket. “Of course.” Then his face grows serious and he takes his leg off the table.
“What’s this I hear about you divorcing Nara?”
Yoongi actually starts a little at this. He didn’t tell Namjoon anything, and as far he knew it was only between himself and his wife. “How-”
“How did I know?” Jin rolls his eyes again. Yoongi thinks idly that Jin rolls them one more time they just might roll out of his damn head. “I’ve known you for years and you ask me this? How the fuck do you think I got to where I am today - representing a majority of Seoul’s aristocracy - without knowing shit I’m not supposed to know?”
“Is that why you need a bodyguard entourage too?”
“Don’t even - shut the fuck up.”
They grin at each other. “But seriously, is it true?”
Yoongi sighs. “Yeah. She’s already served me. What can I do but sign it? I mean, I didn’t marry her for love anyway. Just give her whatever she wants. I want it to be quick and quiet. As soon as you can.”
The word ‘painless’ is on the tip of his tongue as well, but he just can’t manage to force it out.
He stands up and walks back to his desk. The bottom drawer contains Nara’s papers, and as he takes it out it feels like the paper is on fire. It practically burns through the yellow envelope and singes his fingertips.
Jin takes them out and quickly rifles through the papers. “Look, it’s all pretty standar-
“Mr Min?” His assistant buzzes in on the phone. “Mrs Min refused to come in person, but I have her on line one.”
They both look to the phone on the coffee table. The red light flashes rhythmically on the sleek black machine. Yoongi walks over to take the receiver, but Jin is faster; he shoots out of his seated position, and his deft fingers snatch the phone up and then puts it back down, terminating the call.
Yoongi’s left eyebrow nearly shoots straight off of his forehead. “What the fuck?”
“Look, look,” Jin holds out a placating hand, “listen to me.
Jin turns to the assistant and says, “Please tell Mrs Min that Yoongi will see her for dinner tonight at six o’clock at the Aria.”
For an instance Yoongi is livid. Insubordination is something he detests, and always eradicates swiftly, but Jin is his friend, and he has learnt to reign in his compulsive need for superiority around those with intelligence and genius that are comparable to his. He turns to his assistance, who is obviously uncomfortable with orders coming from Jin, and gives her a small nod.
“Move it to 7 o’clock. This might take a while.” His assistant bows and closes the door.
He turns to give Jin a tongue lashing, but the man is already speaking.
“You’re my friend Yoongi, and I know that you rarely change your mind when it comes to matters of business, but as a friend and your lawyer I need you to reconsider this.” Jin speaks with gravitas and a weightedness that Yoongi rarely hears; he usually works like lightning without thunder - fast, brilliant, bright and deadly, but rarely loud or late.
“First I’ll speak as your lawyer. I’m aware that you’ve just sent one of your artists back “home”. Now, I know this means rehab but the public doesn’t, and you know that netizens are crazy as fuck when it comes down to worming out scandals and burying someone so deep their family’s next five generations will have trouble coming out of.”
Yoongi sits back down on the other end of the sofa and lightly massages his temple with the hand he has propped up on the back of the couch. Jin waits until he is done before he keeps speaking; he needs to have his full attention for this.
“We’re still in the midst of cleaning up after her, and even without the public knowing the real circumstances behind her hiatus we have enough on our hands to deal with. Thankfully she’s not a real nutso because though your stock is more prone to falling than it was last week, the numbers haven’t yet moved and we’re doing a quick job of sealing up any possible leaks with the broadcasting companies.
Yoongi closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Fuck it all. He didn’t anticipate for the girl to be such a wild card. She could definitely fuck like one, but evidently he made a misstep and let the reigns go for a little too long. He didn’t mind paying for it, but damn it all that it came up right now.
He holds up his hand, silencing Jin. “So you’re saying that we can’t handle the divorce leaking right now?”
Jin sighs, “I’m not saying we can’t handle it, but it’s unsavory news to a conservative public who are prone to perverting even the cleanest of stories.
He takes a sip of his tea and his dark, almond eyes flicker up to Yoongi. “And I’m assuming that you have some sort of relationship with the girl. If you have I don’t want to hear about it, and I don’t know whether she has anything to do with you and Nara di-”
“She doesn’t.” Yoongi practically grinds the words out with his molars. “She isn’t involved.”
Jin raises an eyebrow. “Okay, my bad. But the timing isn’t great - Min Yoongi announces his divorce from Min Nara just as his star artist turns off the spotlight? Yoongi, the public may be malicious but even that assumption isn’t that much of a stretch for them. Hell even my grandma is young enough to connect the dots to that one. We simply can’t risk the sponsors. I believe you when you say that she’s uninvolved in your marital issues, but It’s too much to lose all in one go.”
Jin smacks his lips and circles the edge of the bronze teacup with his ring finger. “Do you want to hear what I have to say as your friend?”
A sigh. “I don’t have a choice now, do I?”
“No, you don’t.” He barks out a sharp laugh.
“I’ll be straight with you, I think it’s a terrible idea. You and Nara haven’t been married long, you have very similar temperaments, your families get along well enough-”
“Ha. That’s the money talking” Yoongi smirks. The interruption gets him a glare.
“-and, I think this is just your way of escaping your feelings.”
“Feelings? Hyung, what have you been smoking?” Scoffing, Yoongi relaxes in his seat and blinks lazily. “I have no feelings for Nara at all.”
“Don’t be a fucking dimwit,” Jin snaps, “even you know that she has been the perfect wife so far, and she has never so much as even hinted at any sort of disloyal behaviour. Do you think you can get that intelligence just anywhere?”
Now Yoongi is annoyed. Despite meeting her several times at events and of course their wedding, he hasn’t seen Jin exchange so much as a conversation with Nara. How the hell would he know the depths of her personality and wit?
“Intelligence?” His tone drops, and it is hard and flinty and foreboding. “She’s naive, she’s young. She’s hardly intelligent.”
His friend frowns. “Now you’re just being rude. Yes she isn’t lightning quick, but it’s precisely because she is young, and her cleverness hasn’t been trained yet. Anyone with any sense of business can tell that she’s a perfect match for you. The two of you a lethal weapons - she’s just underdeveloped.”
Jin hurries on before Yoongi can bulldoze over his explanation with his usual stubbornness. “I know you care for her. You’re not the one that served her. I know that this was unexpected, and I’m telling you, do not let her leave so easily. She’s the only one I know that can get your goddamn head out of your ass, or from between someone else’s legs. Have dinner with her tonight and tell her you will not sign the papers.”
He holds his hand up to prevent Yoongi from speaking. His friend’s eyes are cold and confused. It’s his signal to leave before things get difficult.
Jin offers one last statement. “You cannot, Yoongi.” He hopes his friend has the foresight to read into his words. Then, he stands and straightens his suit jacket. Yoongi remains sitting, staring at right through him.
Jin sighs. “As your friend I can see that you and Nara have unexplored potential. I know you don’t want to hear it, but too late. For now I’ll advise you as your lawyer, and the same argument goes; she is of importance to your future social connections and our company image. That she is so well presented and well spoken in public is the only thing that is preventing the public from making the connections between you and your previous conquests.”
Yoongi, now on his feet, is eye to eye with Jin. There is a beat of silence, but it isn’t tense, not between these two. Jin can see his friend his taking his words to heart… maybe not so much about the relationship itself but definitely the perks it may herald for the company.
Finally, Yoongi opens his mouth. “Nayeon would be a fool to say no to you, Seokjin.”
At this, Jin’s trademark grin appears and it almost splits his face in two. As Yoongi shakes his friend’s hand, his lips twist up in a small smile. Even after all this time Jin has the exact same foolish grin he possessed as a child.
“Thanks man, I’m pretty nervous, and we’re still months away from the day…”
It sometimes amazed Yoongi how Jin managed to keep his cheerful personality buried perfectly intact under all that lawyer bravado.
Though born with a shockingly handsome face, and bred to mingle in and amongst the often immoral upper class, Kim Seokjin truly was a man with a heart of gold. He and Yoongi grew up together, and while he tolerated Yoongi’s deviant ways, he never dabbled with trouble of that vein unless it came to him in the form of a lawsuit. Even then he could separate himself from his work, treating each case with the ruthlessness the public knew him for, when in reality it was all a facade created to protect his compassionate heart.
His most admirable quality though, Yoongi believes, above all else is that for Kim Seokjin his private life is exactly that, private, and the goings on in his family are privy to just a few, Yoongi included. In fact, just last week he’d given Yoongi the information that in December he was going to propose to his girlfriend Kim Nayeon, a sweet girl whom he’d been with since his freshman year at law school.
Yoongi watches his friend leave with a strange mixture of relief and something unsettling in his chest.
The atmosphere in the office shifts. For the first time Yoongi is uncomfortable in his own office. The walls seem to close in on him, and the large window that allows him the view over his kingdom seems oddly warped, even fragile. He looks to the clock. It’s almost five o’clock. There’s more than enough time to go home and get a clean suit, but he has a closet here, and he doesn’t think Nara wants to see his face before she really must tonight (he can say the same for himself).
Shucking the usual ‘Prince of the Korea’ demeanor that he usually carries - even when alone in his office -, Yoongi collapses face first on his sofa.
“Miyoung!” He yells.
The door opens. “Yes Mr Min?”
“Did you organise a ride for my wife?”
“Yes Mr Min.”
“Good” he grunts into the damp leather. “Wake me up when it’s time to go. I want that Tom Ford suit pressed and laid out.”
His assistant says something he doesn’t quite catch, and then the door closes with that soft, familiar shoop. The sound seems to suck the air out of the room, instead of enveloping him in the quiet serenity he is used to.
Yoongi’s mind is loud, and he doesn’t know how to silence it.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Nara feels like she is looking at a woman who is utterly in and of herself. Over the last 24 hours she feels as though she has shed her childish, girlish self and is as tender as a newborn baby. The woman in front of her is very pale and thin, almost swamped by black Givenchy shift dress she is wearing, but there is a light in her eyes and a flush to her cheekbones that makes Nara feel beautiful, courageous. Slightly reckless.
She takes her time with the rouge and lipstick, making sure the curve of her lips is rounded but exquisitely defined before she makes her way downstairs and to the front door.
The driver is waiting. It’s 7:02. Nara’s already late.
Never mind, she thinks, Yoongi will have to get used to this.
Already emboldened, she walks confidently to the beautiful black car that awaits her and slides inside. The driver shuts the passenger door with a gentle tmp and then pulls out of the driveway.
As they leave the gates of the Min mansion, the twinkling glow of the lights at the entrance of the house prompts Nara one more look back. The house stands grand, carved, luminous and cold in the night air. She realises that when she looks at the building, there is no emotion evoked inside of her. No sense of rest or reprieve that blooms in her chest, or really any sort of feeling that the sight of one’s home should inspire.
Nara turns in her seat, the scarlet curve of her lips a little less forgiving.
“Sir, Madam, your main course has arrived.”
Nara looks up briefly as a waiter places her scallop ceviche is placed in front of her, just has Yoongi’s lamb ragout is place in front of him. His fingers are lightly wrapped around the neck of his glass of 2010 Château Lafite Rothschild Pauillac while hers brings her Didier Dagueneau Pouilly-Fume Asteroide Sauvignon Blanc to her lipsticked mouth.
A small smile flashes past Nara’s lips at the decadence that awaits her. When they had just arrived, she felt the impulse to order the most pungent, indulgent meal on the menu just to irritate Yoongi, but she managed to curb that urge by the time the waiter came to their table. It was a foolish thought to even entertain because after all, despite the frost that was quickly gathering between her and her husband, she was a lady of the elite through and through.
Making no bones about starting before Yoongi, Nara picks up her knife and fork and begins to make a start at her meal. In her periphery she sees Yoongi pause for a moment before he does the same.
Once the waiters have finished filling their glasses and are out of earshot, they are left with little but the tinkling of glassware and cutlery between the two of them.
Yoongi opens his mouth first.
“Nara, I’d like to discuss the matter.”
A lightning flash of annoyance singes its way through Nara’s veins. She hates how he calls it “The Matter”, as though he is above the dirty words “divorce”. She wants to soak him in the water of their union that he has sullied.
“What about it?” She says crisply, not lifting her head to spare him a glance.
“I won’t sign the papers.
Nara’s hands still. She didn’t know what to expect, but somehow just not this. She knew that Yoongi had little to no feelings for her, and yet here he was, denying her - denying them of something they both instinctively wanted!
Her eyes are still on her plate. Yoongi’s hand sets his fork down to take a sip of wine.
“Look at me”, he whispers
She drags her eyes past her plate, past his own, up his jet black suit and pale neck to those pebbly, hard eyes. She hopes that in another dimension another Min Yoongi spontaneously combusts.
Something flickers in those dark orbs, but it is too fast, too fleeting for her to process. It could be hate, it could be lust, hell it could be impatience. But dammit why wasn’t it agreeance?
His next words plunge her into the cold sea of the Arctic. “I want this to work out. I want to stay married to you.”
Nara feels as though she is breathing sludge. She searches Yoongi’s eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but there is none.
“What are you talking about?” she hisses, “I may not know for sure that you’re cheating on me, but I don’t really care. You and I both know that this isn’t real anymore so why don’t you want out of it just as I do?”
Yoongi shifts. Suddenly aware of her posture - leaning towards him, hands tightly gripping her cutlery -, Nara loosens her shoulders and turns back to her food. “I don’t see how this is advantageous to either of us. Our parents will understand, and since it feels transactional any-”
“This is why, isn’t it?” A sharp bark of laughter bursts free. “It’s a transaction. It’s business. You want us to stay together for your goddamn image, your company, don’t you?” Nara spits her consonants with as much loathing as she can muster.
Yoongi cocks his head, and a slight frown appears. “Didn’t you know that from the start? It wasn’t ever real.”
At these words, a wave of something crashes over Nara. It’s far too convoluted to pin it down to one word, but she knows that if she were drowning before at his rejection, then she is well and truly dead right now. Her chest physically hurts, and for a moment lights flash past her eyes so she closes them while she thinks.
He never felt anything towards me. Not even at the start.
Now, Nara knows that Yoongi is practically a stranger, but the emotions she is experiencing at the moment are incredibly confusing to her. She thought she had a clear picture of where she stood with him and yet here she was feeling like she’d been socked in the chest. She thought she’d come to terms with all that he was when she’d handed him the divorce papers - that she’d recognized just how little he cared for her -, but even then she still hadn’t seen the situation for what it was.
“Dazed and confused” is a pitiful expression for her current state; Nara feels embarrassed, foolish, angry at him and angry at herself for being far too idealistic. She wonders what else her mind is hiding from her heart.
Well, she wouldn’t be staying to find out.
“Fine. We can postpone the divorce, but only on the condition that I move out.” Her voice wavers and the self-loathing chokes her.
Yoongi’s eyes are still locked on her. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.” Now that her anger has ripped off its leash, her mouth knows no bounds. “I want to move out. I also want to go to university. You have connections, I want a full ride into Seoul National University no questions asked.”
Her husband’s mouth is agape, and the wounded beast inside Nara growls with satisfaction.
“University? Move out?” Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Are you fucking joking?”
“No. I have a friend who has a spare room and I’ve organised to move in with her. Don’t worry, it’s a penthouse suite with full security so no one will know that I’m not living with you anymore. I have also organised my own security detail to guide me to and from campus should I need it.”
Another, much longer beat of silence. Yoongi sighs, and his chest deflates slightly. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”
“Of course I-” Nara almost shrieks, but she gathers herself before anyone can hear her scream. The gall of Yoongi utterly infuriates her. This was a condition in her divorce papers!
Her tone evens out. “Of course I have. I stipulated it in the papers I gave you.
She watches as Yoongi works his jaw, and unconsciously steels herself for a barrage of condescension. But instead, his voice is soft, and his eyes are fluid.
“Why do you want to go to university?”
Until now, this is a question that even Nara has avoided asking herself. She thought it would have been her mother who would ask it, but not so softly and definitely not with such genuine interest. It is now that she realises that she doesn’t have a good answer other than “because it’s what everyone else my age is doing”. She has no plan, there has never been a plan. She just wants to follow the crowd… is that so evil?
But of course she cannot admit this to her indefeatable husband and so in true Min Nara fashion she blurts out, “To get away from you.”
Immediately the shutters are drawn, and Yoongi’s liquid eyes are granite once more. And although her answer wasn’t totally a lie, Nara can’t help but feel like she has misstepped.
“Fine.” Yoongi resumes eating, spearing his lamb a little too vigorously. “You can move out. Go study. But the moment there are whispers, you come back to me.”
Oh how Nara has wished to hear those last five words come out of a man’s mouth. She thought that they’d be sent like a caress over her mouth, perhaps at a sappy short-term goodbye at an airport, or perhaps by a lover watching her accept a dance from another man.
In her reality though, the words mean something very different. If anything, she wishes she could whisper the same to him with the same meaning, but even then she cannot because she never had him in the first place.
Oh, Nara realises, I really am a fool.
“She said she’d agree.” Yoongi said, exasperated. His fingers loosen his tie as he sits on the end of the master bed. Nara is in the shower, and she’s been in their for a while.
Silence. “That’s it? Surely there’s more.”
Yoongi sniffs a laugh. “On the condition that she moves out and goes to university.” He’s still incredulous.
There is a very long pause. On the other line Jin is so silent that Yoongi can hear his own heart beating in his ears. It’s suffocating.
If you ignore the makeup, I look like a kindergarten art teacher. “Okay class, today we’re learning about primary colors!”
I was in pretty severe pain from the protest, so I decided to wear my hiking boots. Then I pulled out this dress and these tights and tried to think of how I could kinda make the boots work with them. Hence the bits of red and black. Ooh, I just accidentally made a Les Mis reference! None of the stuff I have with me that has the same shade of red as on the boots would work (for one reason or another) so I had to go a bit brighter. That “cape” is actually a ballet wrap skirt I got at the rummage sale for potential future ballet classes. It’s pinned to my dress to stay in place.
[Image description: one full-body photo of a young woman (me) with very short pink hair. I am holding a metallic pink cane in my left hand. I am wearing a navy blue dress with elbow-length sleeves and a hem that hits just above the knees. It has a white pattern of plants with birds perched on them. I’ve belted it with a plain black belt. Under the dress, I have on yellow tights. I’m wearing light brown hiking boots with dark red and black accents. Over the dress, I have on a sheer bright red cape (actually a ballet wrap skirt pinned in place) with long ribbons tied in a bow in the front. I’m wearing a sunflower brooch pinned to the right shoulder of the cape. I have on a black hat, red earrings, and black lipstick. As always, I’m wearing my round black glasses.]
Hi guys! Just thought of this and I’m screaming! My first 2k long story along with a customized header (will probs do it to my other ffs)xD, also this is dedicated to mah friend @wonzigyumincause you left us u ho jk lol ily
“I love you”. Those were the words that started it
all. He had somehow managed to muster up enough courage to finally say those
words, his mixed feelings of anxiousness and embarrassment slowly dissolving as
every syllable left his mouth and soon after the sudden confession, he felt
giddy and elated when he heard your reply of ‘I love you too.’
You could hardly forget that event.
It all happened on a Friday night when he suddenly asked,
practically forcing you to free up your schedule, and made plans to go out and
have dinner. As you were getting ready, you heard the soft ding of your phone
to which you later found out to be a text from Jihoon. “I’m here.”
was all that was written, very typical of him. For the past two years you’ve
been friends with him (sorry, BEST FRIENDS), he always goes straight to the
point but you didn’t mind it. In actuality, you liked that trait of his but you
never told him that and you have no plan to.
“In a minute.” you replied back, putting back the
phone into your purse. You checked yourself one last time in the mirror only to
whip out your bag and to once again put another layer of lipstick onto your plump
lips. Once again backing up to see the full profile of your reflection. You
wore a simple black cocktail dress that stopped just above your knees. Your
shoulders were bare and the dress hugged at your body, leaving little to the
imagination. It was the only decent thing you could find out of your small
closet full of casual and business clothing. Jihoon had told you way too late
that you needed to wear something formal, fit for fine-dining that you had no
time to go out and buy one.
Your phone was ringing nonstop now but you were used to it.
Jihoon tends to say that a minute feels like an hour when waiting for you. He’s
exaggerating. Well, checking yourself constantly in the mirror and reapplying
makeup whenever you see just one small smudge tends to take a while.
“That’s it. I’m coming up there.” You read, the notification flashing
on your screen and as if on cue, three loud knocks came to your door. You
didn’t move though, you continued to fix the powder on your face until you had
heard a knowing cough.
Turning your head, you saw Jihoon standing at your bedroom
door. He had on a sleek black suit with a white polo worn underneath and a
black bowtie to complete the outfit. His small figure leaning against the
doorframe as he glared at you. And you replied back with a smile to which he
chuckles at while looking down, “What am I going to do with you?”, it
was merely a whisper and he was thankful that you hadn’t heard it.
“I’m done!” was the first thing that came out of
your mouth once you felt satisfied. He beamed at you and he hadn’t realized
what you were wearing until you were standing tall in your three-inch heels.
Your full appearance finally sunk in and Jihoon couldn’t help but feel
flustered. “You okay, Woozi?”
You saying his nickname only made him blush more as he
gawked at you. Worried, you made your way closer to him, thinking he might be
catching something. Your hand gently pressed at his forehead and you heard his
voice hitch. “You feel hot, maybe we should cancel.” you said as you
stepped away from him to go get some medicine. But before you could even move
one step, Jihoon grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him, “No. I’m
fine. Let’s get going.” He said as he picked up your purse and dragged you
out to his car.
It was silent during the ride and who knows how many times
Jihoon had glanced your way, you had lost count. When you look back at him he
would pretend he was never looking at you in the first place. “Is
something wrong, Woozi?”
Again with the nickname.
Jihoon thought to himself. He’s using every bit of his power
to focus on driving but him knowing you were right beside him and having full
knowledge of your clothing just made it really hard for him. Not to mention how
the seatbelt made your chest very much painfully obvious made him even more
uneasy. “No, nothing’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong whatsoever.” he
voiced out and you didn’t push the topic anymore.
After a few more turns and with Jihoon constantly cursing
whenever the stoplight turns red, both of you finally arrived at the
restaurant. Your eyes turned wide when you realized it was the restaurant you
had always wanted to try since you first saw it but due to it being a bit
expensive and always fully booked, you tend to have second thoughts.
“How did you manage to get a table, its practically
impossible to get a reservation here unless you know the owner or if you’re
early as hell.” you chimed as you took a glance at the long line just out
the entrance and you felt superior yet apologetic that you were passing them as
you and Jihoon made your way to the reception desk.
“Lee Jihoon.” he said to the person behind the
podium. It was a tall man that wore a black suit and a red tie. His nose was
pointed and his smile, genuine. “Yes, Mr. Lee. A reservation for two.”
he gestured for us to follow him inside and we did.
The man led us to a table beside a window that has the
perfect view of the moon. Though, for some reason, our table was slightly
secluded from the rest and it was also themed different. Unlike the other
tables with white cloth and golden laced that we passed by on our way here,
ours had light red cloth draped over the table with black cloth laced at the
edges. But in the middle of all these was a single white rose in a thin clear
vase laying silently on the table.
“What’s the occasion?” you jokingly laughed and
gladly took the seat Jihoon pulled out for you. “Nothing, why? Can’t I go
all out on a dinner with my best friend?” he mocked as he took the seat
across from you. You looked around but no staff gave a menu and as if Jihoon
can read your mind, “I already ordered ahead of time.”, “Oh,
have you now?” you grinned. “Its a surprise.” he only said.
While waiting for your surprise food you both chatted
about what each of you had done for the week, (boring, I know, but I can’t
think of anything else), he then started talking about how great he’s been
doing at work. Making music and performing with his members. You loved how his
eyes would light up whenever he talked about his work, so you couldn’t help but
smile as you listened to his story about how one of his hyungs would always
try to kiss him and you laughed when he explained how he chased after that one
member with a guitar. “Poor guy.” you commented, laughing. “What
do you mean?? I should be the one you should be sorry for, they were annoying
me.” Jihoon could only pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. It made
you giggle more, “Well, I know how scary you could be when you get mad
so…” you wiped the tears that escaped your eyes from laughing so much.
Jihoon didn’t retort though, he just shrugged and mouthed out, 'True’.
“How’s yours?” he asked as he took a sip of water.
“Oh, nothing. Just same old, same old.” “Come on now,
spill.” Jihoon said at your lack of an answer. You knew him too well to
not say anything, he would never stop pestering you until you gave him what he
wanted and so you started telling him about how it is at your work. Just the
usual boring seminars, you and your friends, as always sat at the front cause
you all can’t see because all your eyesight are bad, and how the people at the
back are annoying as hell no matter how much they’re scolded. “Hope they
lose their job.” you cursed under your breath but Jihoon still heard it
and chuckled at your comment. “You hate them that much?”, your eyes
widened and you prepared yourself to tell him about all the hoes in your class
and for the past 15 minutes, Jihoon was trying his best to hold in his laughter
but is failing miserably as you cursed bloody mary onto the people that annoyed
you as hell (the people at the back).
Jihoon was still laughing his ass off as the waiter arrived
with your food and to your amazement, it was all your favourite, from
appetizers all to the main course. “Surprise!” Jihoon said as he
finally caught his breath. Your mouth was wide open and your eyes seem to almost
bulge out as you tried to find for words to say, “I-I don’t know what to
say.” you managed to voice out, he smirked. “You don’t have to say
anything. Let’s eat.” The both of you were enjoying dinner and had laughs
with a few slipped in moments of additional spite for people that annoyed you
“That was delicious!” you laid back in your chair
as you held your stomach, Jihoon did the same, “I’m glad.” he smiled.
It tugged at your heartstrings, seeing him smile and you hadn’t noticed you
were staring until he had gave you a questioning look. While you still felt
flustered, Jihoon had called for the waiter and asked him to lean a bit closer.
You could hear him whisper something but it was too inaudible, the waiter only
nodded before turning around to leave you both. Jihoon saw how you were
throwing daggers at him with your glare, “What?” he asked and you
just leaned back down and pouted in your seat.
He could only chuckle at your childishness and hearing him
laugh made your heart melt and you can’t help but smile. This was why you loved
being with Jihoon, you both enjoy and have fun even with littlest of things.
How you can feel lots of care and love from a small gesture with him like that
time when you were sick and couldn’t join the outing all your friends planned
for a long time and instead of going, he stayed back with you saying, “I
never wanted to go anyway.”, but he was the most excited about the trip.
You told him you were fine and he could go, but he refused and slept over at
your place to take care of you, “No big deal.” he said only to catch
a cold the next day.
Whilst you were laughing, Jihoon kept quiet as he admired
you from his seat. He loved seeing your smiling face. He loved how your eyes
twinkled when you talked about your passion. He loved the late night calls with
you. He loved how much you worried about him. He loved being in your company.
He loved everything about you.
He loved you.
The waiter had come back with a silver platter and placed it
in the middle of your table. Jihoon had wished he took out his phone to capture
the expression on your face when you saw the dessert that arrived. It was a
giant, practically bucket-sized, sweet pudding. You were silently screaming as
you hurriedly went to Jihoon’s side and gave him a big hug. He expected it
though, he knows how much you loved pudding. His smile grew even wider, if that
was even possible, as he watched you enjoying the dessert.
God, I love her so much.
Jihoon smiled to himself. You were a bit guilty that you
were the only one enjoying the dessert, so you took a spoonful and offered it
to Jihoon. He shook his head at first, but after your glare and stubbornness,
he complied and opened his mouth. You felt giddy as you fed him the pudding,
“Do you love it?”, “Yes.” he nodded, “I love it.”
“But I love you more.”
Jihoon wondered why you had suddenly stopped eating and was
now looking his way. Your mouth was hanging open as you stared at him and his
expression was just painted in confusion. Then his eyes grew wide and he
immediately went red while he covered his mouth with his hand.
Did I just say that out loud?
Jihoon thought. He had not wanted for you to know it like
this but there was no turning back on it.
“Yes.” He acted cooly, “I love you.”
It was a beautiful memory that you could never forget no
matter how hard you try.
“Leave me alone! I’m busy!” Jihoon had kicked you
out of the studio and slammed the door before you could turn around. His voice
rang in your ears as you comtemplated wether to continue or not but this was
the last straw. Your blood was boiling underneath your skin, “Open the
fucking door, Jihoon.”, there was no answer. “LEE JIHOON!” you
pounded on the door. He at last opened it, probably after the cracking sounds
that were heard from the door.
“What?” his voice felt like venom, his tone
distant. His brown irises stared straight at yours. “What the fuck?”
you said in disbelief, he’s not getting away by acting ignorant. “Talk to
me Jihoon. I waited for you everyday, I gave my whole life to you, the least
you could do is come with me to see my father back home.” your words
didn’t seem to get through to him. He now was looking anywhere but you,
“Woozi.” your voice was pleading and low. His hand laid at the back
of his neck, “Please, I can’t leave right now. We have a big performance
this coming week, I can’t just go with you.” he explained.
You understood that he couldn’t go. You get it. But knowing
that your father is pulling at his last breaths on his death bed, you thought, you
thought he could skip at least once. “My father is dying, he needs me
there and I need you there with me and knowing this, you still think your
performance is more important? More important than me?” your chest felt
tight as you said those words. You never meant for him to choose between his
beloved group, his future, his passion, and with you. You’re happy for him,
yes, but you always felt like you would always be second. Second after his
His eyes finally landed on yours, “I’m sorry but I
can’t.” As soon as those words left his mouth, you let out an exasperated
sigh. You expected it, but seriously, he didn’t even stutter.
“If this is what I’m going to go through being with
you, then I’m sorry but, I can’t handle it. Let’s end this.” you fought against
the tears from falling out. “It’s the best for the both of us.” you
said before turning around.
“I’m leaving.” you gritted your teeth, making sure
to stress on every syllable. And so you left. You called for a taxi and after
saying your destination, you pulled out your phone and booked the next flight
to your country. Your home.
The word felt so familar but at the same time not. Being
with Jihoon, you were at home. Wherever he was, it was home. He is home. But
now, you felt so unsure of it, you felt doubtful.
Your luggage lagged behind you as you made your way into the
airport. You had 10 minutes till your departure and while waiting for your
flight call, occasionally, you would look towards the entrance, hoping. 5
minutes left, you needed to go. But before you went your way, you gave one last
look behind your shoulder, one last chance to see if he would come.
But there was no one.
You start walking to your boarding gate but you hear loud
footsteps, as if someone is running straight towards you and before you
realized it, you felt a hand on your shoulder to which you abruptly turn
around. “Jihoon?” you almost felt tears in your eyes but the growing
warmth spreading through your body dissolved when you saw, not Jihoon, but a
stranger, “Uh, sorry miss. But you dropped this.”, he held out what
seem to be your wallet. You hadn’t noticed it was missing, “Thank
you.”, he nodded to your reply before making his way to his gate.
Laughing to yourself, you thought he would come, thinking he
would at least stop you, but it appears you were wrong. And so with pain gaping
at your chest, you left.
“Welcome ma'am.” the flight attendant greeted and you
forced a smile to which she paid no heed. She pointed you to your seat and you
sat beside the window. The night lights twinkled under the dark sky and you
could only cry silently as the plane’s engines roared to life.
Though, against the loud sound of the airplane taking
flight, a faint voice could be barely heard, screaming your name, screaming for
you to come back. To come back to him.
Summary: Sakura really didn’t sign up for this. (Or the one where Sasuke moonlights as an erotic dancer to pay the bills his internship can’t cover.)
Rating: T for language and minor sexual stuff (it’s a stripper!AU what did you expect)
Notes: I wrote this at like two in the morning after spending a solid hour doing anatomy studies that somehow all turned into Sasuke. I need an adult. Also, my YouTube history looks really, really weird now.
“Ino, I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with this,” Sakura says, eyeing the flashing neon signs around her. Her best friend scoffs and flips her long, loosely curled hair over her shoulder. “You’re always shut up in that lab of yours, Forehead! You’re twenty-five. You need to live a little. Besides, this place is fine.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re here every weekend,” Sakura mumbles, but she offers no further comment; rather, she can’t, because they’ve arrived at their destination. The bouncer waves them in with barely a glance. They’re clearly of age, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to card them.
The first thing that strikes Sakura is the music—dark, sinuous, and pulsing, almost alive—and the way the red and violet lights create a haze over the black walls and tiles of the bar. It’s an unusual look, but one that fits the club’s name. Insidious is definitely the sort of place Ino frequents; a sophisticated establishment with plenty of live entertainment and well-mixed cocktails. There’s also a long, raised catwalk from the back rooms that connects to a large, circular stage in the center of the room. Her best friend ushers her to a table near said stage, her towering heels clicking against the smooth marble floor. That’s about when Sakura notices a thin silver pole in the center of the platform and realizes what, exactly, its purpose is.
“Ino,” she says slowly. “Did you bring me to a fucking strip club?” Ino bats her eyes in a mockery of innocence. “Not the kind of strip club you’re thinking of, Sakura. You’ll like it, I promise.”
Well. Her day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? Sakura looks around again, faintly hearing Ino order a couple cocktails for them both. The whole room has a certain plush feeling to it. Maybe it’s the velvet everywhere. Maybe it’s Sakura’s overactive imagination. The world may never know. The cocktails arrive in a few minutes. Sakura downs hers immediately, vaguely tasting strawberries and vodka. She gets the feeling she really, really shouldn’t be sober for this. Ino rolls her teal eyes for the umpteenth time and shifts so that her low cut dress shows off her cleavage just the right way.
Twenty minutes and another drink later, the room begins to fill. People come in twos and threes, all trying their damnedest to snag seats close to the stage. Sakura can’t help but notice most of them are women. Ino snickers at them and waves down a waiter. “There’s a reason we got here early, Forehead. The most popular act of the week is about to start.”
As if on cue, the overhead lights dim. A smooth, soft piano riff starts up as a spotlight flicks on, catching a tall, lithe man in its glow. Sakura is immediately entranced, because good God is he beautiful. He looks ethereal as he prowls downs the catwalk, the juxtaposition of his pale skin and dark hair striking in all the right ways. Then he reaches the pole and, with what looks like no effort at all, lifts himself up and flips his body upside down in a blatant “fuck you” to gravity and the laws of physics in general.
His muscles move smoothly as he dances, pushing and pulling and creating enchanting patterns of shadow on his skin. He’s barely even breaking a sweat, he’s hitting every beat, and he’s so sensual it almost hurts her to watch. And then he just has to take it up a notch; he climbs up to the top of the pole and drops headfirst towards the floor, catching himself at the last second with his thighs. His THIGHS. Sakura can’t even register the smug look Ino is most likely throwing her because her eyes are locked to the spectacle before her. The dancer throws his head back, arching his spine against the pole, and strokes his hands up the sides of his torso. One rests lightly on his throat, thin, elegant fingers feathering over the curves of his neck, and the other grips the pole behind him. A glint of silver catches her eye as he moves and oh my god he has nipple piercings. Sakura’s mouth runs dry. Her heart is practically throwing itself against her ribs, and she swears he can hear it over the pound of the music.
He meets her gaze, and Sakura feels like she’s suddenly caught fire but can’t entirely bring herself to mind. There’s a flicker of something in those impossibly black eyes, before he blinks and gives her a slow, sexy smirk. He effortlessly levers himself down, twisting as he goes, to land on his knees in front of her. As he leans back, putting his whole body on display, all Sakura can focus on is how beautiful this man is. He’s not bulky, not by a long shot; instead, the cut of his muscles is soft and toned. His beauty is something ethereal and effortless, and the elegance he somehow infuses in every movement only accentuates it. Sakura is no stranger to this; in fact, she can name a few people off the top of her head who can do the same thing.
And then something clicks, and she’s is frozen. Not in a good, aroused way: of course, the attraction is definitely there, but at this exact moment it’s being overpowered by shock and just a bit of panic. She knows that smirk, just like she knows those eyes. Except usually, she sees them in the lab next to hers, on the reserved biochemist she works with more often than not.
Oh my god, she thinks faintly, as Uchiha Sasuke, one of the brightest up-and-coming minds in her oncological drug research course, gives her another tantalizing look to a dark guitar riff, he looks completely different without his glasses.
Dragons swoop overhead, gliding through the large skyscrapers. Walking around the streets are such a wide variety of being, some seemingly normal humans, others advanced animals walking on two legs, wearing clothes, and a few, full grey individuals wearing black sunglasses.
A group of friends walk together on the street, a cloud, a skeleton, a black cat in a pink bow tie, and a girl with a brown bob hair cut, in a striped hoodie.
“I hear downtown is infested with porn bots now” the cloud speaks, floating along, enjoying a nice cotton candy cone.
“Gross” the girl in the bob cut replied. “Rose, er, bone rose?”
The skeleton looked up “Huh? Sup Simakai? “
“It’s your turn to choose where we get lunch at today”
Rose looks to the cloud “I’m thinking pizza? You?”
Rose looks back to the skeleton “well, i’m you so….Chinese?”
Rose(skeleton) looks back, completely confused.
“How about some pasta? I know a really nice place” The cat replied.
Simakai nods in agreement “So, I have a perfect middle idea. “
The three look to her, waiting for her amazing answer.
Bone Rose’s jaw drops off.
“Huh, yeah, little bit of everything. “ Cloud Rose nods in agreement.
“Hey, what’s going on down there?” Cat points down the road to the center of the city, which opens up to a large open square with artists drawing, dancers dancing to the music of the singers and other musicians. Currently the square was empty except one lone dancer.
He had curly blonde hair, eyes of piercing blue and green, dressed in an old army jacket with patches and pins, open to show a simple black shirt, black jeans, he had a necklace with an old rusty skeleton key. Jaunty swing music played in the square as he danced along.
“Isn’t that Fern?” Bone Rose asked.
“Oh my goodness it is” Simakai replied. “Let’s go see if he wants to join us for lunch?”
Suddenly the music shifts, from jaunty swing, to hard dubstep, the ground cracking around Fern as he moved.
“On second thought, let’s not” Cat quickly added.
“Yah, let’s go find Dransnake instead, see if she wants to join.” Cloud Rose suggested.
Together the four turned around, to see before them stood a man, with blue skin, icy white eyes, green hair decorated with small red lights, dressed in a black winter coat over a red button up shirt, and a black top hat, decorated with a holly berries.
“Wow! Hey Chanter!” Simakai joyously greeted him.
Chanter smiled “Hello Simakai, Roses, and Cat! I was going around letting everyone know Parsure is missing, though I doubt anyone truly minds.”
“Ugh, yah I doubt anyone is truly looking around for mister art block.” Bone Rose relpied.
Chanter chuckled “True true, yet I still am asking around to see if anyone has seen him? “ He looked up to see Fern dancing in the square, more dancers finally joining him. “Shame, it seems Fern has given up looking. I hope Ausham hasn’t too.”
“Chanter, why do you care?” Simakai asked.
“Well, despite his bad nature, Parsure is like my brother, he is family. I worry” Chanter replied.
“We’ll keep an eye out for him.” Cat spoke out, patting Chanter on the shoulder, sending snowflakes out, scented like peppermint.
“Chanter, are you always so Christmas-y?” Cloud Rose sniffed.
“Why of course! Christmas is all about love and joy, which is what I represent in Fern!”
“Fair enough” Cloud Rose shrugged.
“Well, I’m sure you kind ladies have plans to attend to , I must continue my search, and keep Fern and Ausham out of trouble. They have been rather…strange lately”
Simakai was curious what he meant by strange, but Chanter was gone before she could ask. Confused, she shrugged it off.
“Anyway, lunch?” Cat asked.
Woo hoo, here it is, the Start of Creationaria. Some small world building, these first few chapters will be. If you like this, let me know, give some love to the blogs mentioned.
A/N: Guess who wrote another chapter!! I was randomly inspired at work that Hamilton was going to do something skeezy in this part and it just spiraled from there! Sorry, I love Hamilton but since this is Jefferson’s story, Hammy gets to be the bad guy. Enjoy and definitely comment if you like this part! I’ll be wrapping this fic up soon and starting on something else, so keep your eyes peeled for my next series. I may get your opinion of what else I should write ;)
You avoided Lafayette or Jefferson
or whatever his name was as much as possible the following week. So many
questions tumbled around in your mind: Why was he impersonating Lafayette? Why
hadn’t you recognized him before? What was he doing here at Hamilton’s firm?
When you were still in grad school,
you had read a lot of magazine and journal articles about Thomas Jefferson. Most
of them mentioned the feud between Jefferson and Hamilton’s companies, which
were both producing similar products. One article even juxtaposed them across
two pages and listed their accomplishments, qualifications and new projects,
somehow comparing the two competitive geniuses. If you were being honest, you
preferred Hamilton’s philosophy of business of Jefferson’s, not only because
you sided with Hamilton’s democratic leanings, but also because Jefferson
seemed unscrupulous in his dealings. Especially now that you knew he was
undercover in his rival’s company, most likely stealing important information.
Caplet - Le masque de la mort rouge, for harp and orchestra
13 Pieces for Halloween, no.3. André Caplet isn’t a common name nowadays. He was a turn of the century French composer who was most well known for his orchestrations of Debussy’s piano music. At the time, there were two new competing harp designs: the pedal harp [which is the standard today] and the chromatic harp [where every pitch gets its own string]. Caplet wrote this “symphonic etude” for the chromatic harp, and it also works as a tone poem based off of the Edgar Allan Poe tale The Masque of the Red Death. One of my favorite stories since I discovered it in high school. The Masque of the Red Death is about a country that is hit by a terrible plague. The Red Death causes fevers and makes the victim bleed from all pores and orifices. An aristocrat, Prince Prospero, plans to avoid the plague and invites other gentry and high society members to lock themselves away in his fabulous castle, letting the country die around them. They wait off the plague by gorging on feasts and having extravagant parties. There are several rooms, each one decorated with glass windows to give off colored lights. The gimmick is nice for all rooms except the last, where the red stained glass gives off blood light over black furniture. The party goes well, except one person has come to the masquerade dressed as a victim of the Red Death. The prince is enraged, and rushes to find out who would do something so grotesque to mock everyone. He chases the person through all of the rooms, and at the last room, the blood room, the mask falls and it’s revealed that it isn’t a person at all. The Red Death itself has entered the party, and it takes everyone’s lives. The music of Caplet’s poem recreates the darkness and drama of the story, starting with eerie harmonies and sounds, melting into a few dances for the party, that grow and develop into something frantic and disturbing. It also follows the plot’s chase scene at the end, and we come back to the beginning, as mysterious and bleak as can be.
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Fourth installation of my Toxic series, inspired by the song by Britney Spears. Done in a little less than three hours (which is AMAZING for me, I usually dawdle). Over half-way done with this project! There will be as many panels as tumblr will allow, which I think is 10… correct me if I’m wrong, please.
Been feeling a lot better. A balance of good friends with the right words and being alone seems to be doing the trick.
Hi, I would like to request for a sad Kai imagine where you are pregnant and you intend to surprise him with the news, but catch him cheating! Happy ending pleasee thank you!!! :)
of course! hopefully I can pull this scenario off haha. thank you so much for requesting bb ♡♡ p.s since i’m such a lazy ass i didn’t proof-read this either. probably never will omg.
KIM JONGIN 김종인
📌 Genre : Angst / Fluff
📖 Word Count: 2903
👩 Admin : Raven
Your hand gripped the stick tightly, your palms breaking out into a sweat as you wondered whether or not you were dreaming. You stared blankly at the two lines that appeared on the screen, not fully realizing what they meant.
Pregnant I I
Tears stung the back of your eyes as you let out a joyful sigh, clutching the test against your chest in disbelief. I’m pregnant. A sob broke out from between your lips as you let out a shaky laugh. Jongin is going to be ecstatic.
But how do I tell him?
Fear ripped through your body, what if he isn’t ready for a child? Swallowing deeply, you ran a hand through your hair and breathed in deeply. A glance at the clock told you that Jongin was going to come home in about 20 minutes. Smiling to yourself, you nodded determinedly.
I’ll tell him when he gets back.
How foolish of you to think that he was going to show up that night alone.
So, I just started writing this! I’m not very good with writing, I always make it really short and I rarely ever finish. But I like this, so I was hoping someone could tell me how it is? Where can I add details would be especially helpful! Thanks in advance!
It happened within the span of thirty seconds, a fast motion, a splash of dark red blood, pain. Ladybug -Marinette- froze, touching her fingertips to her chest and then staring at the blood that coated her fingers. She screamed as she fell backwards, losing her transformation, and her consciousness. Chat Noir didn’t see her get hit, too focused on the Akumatized victim or else he would have happily dove in front of her. At her scream, he turned to her and leaped towards her as the red light of her transformation shown bright in his eyes.
“Ladybug!” He yelled before the light died down. As it did, though, a small red Kwami floated around the civilian form of Ladybug frantically. Chat couldn’t bring himself to say the name of the girl in front of him, frozen in shock and disbelief. His Lady was…?
“Marinette!” The Kwami, Tikki, screamed in her high pitched voice. Chat still couldn’t bring himself to move.
Release the transformation, Adrien. That was Plagg, and so Chat did just that, reversing his transformation back to Adrien.
“Tikki!” His black cat Kwami screamed as he flew towards Ladybug’s Kwami. Tikki was still rushing around Marinette frantically, but at the sound of Plaggs voice, she stopped, flew straight into his arms, and began crying. Meanwhile, Adrien fell to his knees, scooping the girl in front of him into his arms, careful of her injury. The Akumatized victim was long gone.
“M-Marinette,” Adrien whispered, his voice breaking, “Hold on princess, you’ll be okay, I promise.” Although he merely whispered it, Marinette stirred in his arms, opening her eyes with a gasp.
“C-Chat?” She asked as she began to squirm and groan in pain. She hadn’t looked at Adrien clearly, too focused on the pain she felt. For a second, Adrien wasn’t sure how to answer. Then he placed a soft kiss on Marinette’s forehead.
“Yes princess, it’s me,” and with that Marinette finally looked up at him. She was shocked for a second, but then she rolled her eyes, wincing in pain as she did.
“Alya was right,” she mumbled to herself. The crying Kwami then noticed that Marinette was awake, and flew over to the pair, tears still running down her small head.
“Marinette! Im sorry! Im so sorry! I,” she paused looking over at Plagg, “We should have never made you guys do this! You’re just kids and we have put you in so much trouble!” With the little strength she possessed, Marinette reached her hand up, stroking Tikki’s face.
“You didn’t do anything wrong Tikki, I enjoy being Ladybug,” Marinette said weakly with a smile. Tikki shook her head. Plagg flew forward.
“She’s right kid. This is too dangerous for you, for both of you,” he said, directing the last part towards Adrien.
“What? Plagg, no!” Adrien started, but the black Kwami merely shook his head. “We’re sorry. You too can no longer be Ladybug and Chat Noir. We’ll fix this, we’ll fix you Marinette, trust me,” Tikki said sadly. Marinette placed all her effort into sitting up.
“No! Look I’m fine!” Marinette lied. Although the wound was not deep, it was long and stretched from her right hip to just over her heart. It would definitely need stitches before she lost too much blood, and it would most likely leave a scar. What worried Tikki the most, though, was how close the weapon had come to puncturing Marinette’s heart and killing her instantly.
“Don’t lie Marinette! I know you better than anyone! You can’t change our mind, neither can you Adrien! We have to do this before Marinette losing too much blood!” Tikki shrieked at the pair, surprising Plagg and Marinette who had never seen her so worked up.
Never had a hero almost die on us though, thought Plagg to himself. Adrien, who had his head downcast in thought, looked up towards the small ladybug Kwami.
“Will this help her?” He asked quietly. Marinette turned to her partner in shock, knowing what he was thinking.
“No! Chat! A-Adrien! I’ll be fine, I promise! Please…please don’t do this,” although she started out strong, she whispered the last part, slowly losing any remaining strength she had.
“Will this help her?” Adrien repeated. It had been only five minutes since she had been hit, but her blood covered his arms and he couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t protect her.
“It will,” Tikki replied. Adrien nodded. He stood up, holding Marinette in his arms. She hung lifelessly, having passed out again a minute ago.
“Then whatever you’re planning…do it. Save her, please,” Adrien whispered looking down at the girl in his arms.
She was always right behind him. He couldn’t believe it. Her smiling face entered his mind and tears slowly filled his eyes. Turning his attention to the Kwami’s, he watched as they flew over to the item Ladybug had summoned with her lucky charm: a red and black spotted boomerang. It had been during the summoning of her lucky charm that she had been struck, and so the item had fallen, forgotten on the floor. Together, Tikki and Plagg threw it into the air as Ladybug frequently did, but the words that left their mouths were different.
“Miraculous Forget!” The two yelled and similar to Miraculous Cure, a red and black light erupted from the item, fixing the damage that was caused by the Akuma. The red and black light swam over the pair of heroes, and when it dissipated, Marinette was gone. Then a black and green light appeared, after the first one, and as it surrounded Adrien, his eyes closed and he blacked out. Goodbye, my Lady, was his last thought.