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notnctu · 4 years

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haechan: the cocky | vol 1

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: oral, voyeurism, explicit language ☆ WC: 2,659 ☆ SYNOPSIS: on this sunny afternoon, you’re home alone while everyone else is in class... or so you thought. as haechan’s name spills from your lustful mouth, he mindlessly comes in thinking that you’re calling for him. instead, he walks in to see you fingers deep and in need of some assistance, again.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: happy halloween everyone!! pls read the background info before proceeding with the fic!! absolutely pwp, there is no real plot here besides smut LOL and yes there will be a part two ! maybe multiple parts idk yet lol depends on my story building

Tossing your backpack into the corner of your room, you pounce on your bed as quickly as possible. There was something about Haechan’s outfit choice today: baggy relaxed pants and an oversized plain white tshirt that only he could pull off. Something about his cool, carefree attitude riles up an inexplicable part of you. And though you didn’t have much time to drool over his incredibly impressive outfit before dashing for your 10 AM, it is all that’s been running through your head.

And truthfully if you had been caught staring for even a millisecond, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him. You’ve seen this guy go two days straight sitting in his boxers and wrinkled old tee as he yells profanities at his computer monitor. Yet, in some egotistical world, Haechan still manages to be the cockiest person in the whole house.

Haechan has pulled quite a fair share of girls, but nothing in comparison to Jaehyun or Johnny. The reason behind his sly smirks and obvious traveling eyes could possibly be that he’s pulled you, quite a number of times.

Haechan never really peaked your interest until he became the one you spent the most time alone with. He is not the type to boast about his sexual encounters, so you really had to squeeze it out of him. Long talks of his cunnilingus tactics had you wet by the end of it all, not expecting that this gamer boy had such an eager passion for seeing girls squirm from his tongue.

Eager and strong enough passion to ask if he could get a taste of you, then proceeded to bring up all the moments that he has passed by your room to see you sprawled across your bed naked and rubbing one out. You had a poor habit of not closing your door all the way.

However strangely enough, you didn’t feel embarrassed that Haechan was the one who saw you. In fact, if anyone in the house did catch you masturbating, you’d hope it was him. Your relationship is comfortable to the point of seeing the worst sides of each other, you could be your true self around him because he wasn’t some playboy to impress. He is and always will be, Lee Haechan, the boy that sucks at arm wrestling.

So as you check your housemates’ locations and thinking that the coast is clear, you begin to peel off your bottoms and panties. Every naughty thought of Haechan rolls into your lustful mind. Tugging at his fluffy hair. His plushy tongue against your clit. His light spanks against your ass. His needy hands gripping your thighs. His low throaty moans.

You get into your favorite position --- ass up, on your knees and legs spread open, with your face buried in a pillow. Your hand tries to mimic his touch: gently teasing your nipples, trailing down your stomach until you reach your sensitive bud. Your fingers gather your slick and automatically, Haechan’s name escapes your lips. Closing your eyes, you recall all the times he’s eaten you out until you’ve seen stars.

Now if Haechan wasn’t so forgetful, he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back home to grab his notebook for lecture. When the boy enters the house, he takes note of your scattered shoes at the door and the faint sound of your voice. Curiously, he walks up the stairs to the rooms and hears you calling for him and concludes that you probably heard him come home.

When he approaches your slightly opened door, he sees an image that immediately halts him in his tracks. Through the rather large slit, he has the clearest view of your dripping pussy and quick fingers rubbing at your clit. And he registers your calls for moans. You were moaning his name, not calling for him.

He glances around at the other open rooms to check if anyone else is home, but that is probably why you thought it would be completely fine to not close your door, again. When he returns to the incredibly sexy scene of you masturbating to the thought of him, you’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t even hear his heavy breathing.

A tent forms in his pants as he feels all his blood rushing to his shaft. He’s beyond turned on, like come on, it’s him you’re thinking about. This does nothing, but fuel his already large ego. Haechan enters your room and clears his throat, “you should really learn to close your door, baby.”

Your momentum breaks at the sheer fear of someone else’s voice. Panic settles and the first thing you see when you look up is Haechan’s small smirk. He leans against the frame of your door, arms crossed and eyes never leaving your figure.

“Why are you home?!” You throw a pillow at him, very well annoyed at his presence and for ruining your private time. Sitting up on your knees, you try covering your lower half with your blanket. Haechan is quick to stop you, while simultaneously shutting your bedroom door.

“I forgot my notebook.” He leans in, lips inches away from yours and his hand pulling the sheets off your body. “I have twenty minutes to spare, so let’s make this quick, mmh? Seems like you’re in need of my assistance... again.” His eyes are dark, and the sunlight that seeps through your shades shines so beautifully against his melanin. The faint smell of his cologne messes with your mind and god, you want him so bad and you hate that he can tell.

“Get back into your previous position and show me how you touch yourself.” He leaves a quick peck on the corners of your lips before standing at the end of your bed.

“What if I don’t want to?” You’re not usually bratty with other partners, but Haechan’s assertiveness and overall aura draws it out of you so naturally.

He pokes his tongue at the inside of his mouth, protruding his cheek and tilts his head at your bratty attitude. Staring you down with hungry eyes and a raised eyebrow, he says in a serious tone, “no time for games right now. You want me or not?”

“Yes, please.” You nod with urgency once you realize that Haechan still had class to get to. Turning back around, you rest comfortably on your elbows with your knees firm on the mattress. Your hand travels down to circle your clit again, resuming your previous lustful actions before Haechan interrupted you.

Every jolt runs down your legs as a pumping surge of electricity, all the way down to your toes. Haechan palms himself watching you get back into the mood, biting his bottom lip at the delicious sight of your glistening, pretty pussy on display for him. It doesn’t take much before he hurries to get under you and in between your legs.

He lays back flat on the bed as you hover over him, your hand still rubbing intensively at your bud and your juices collecting in your palm. Taking your wrist, he guides your wet fingers into his mouth. You moan knowing your fingers are being cleaned by Haechan, him sucking your taste off of you.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He groans, bringing your hips closer to his face. Without another second of hesitation, he licks a long strip across your clit.

“Hyuck..” It has been established between the two of you that you have special rights to use his government name. He loves how hot it sounds coming from you, like it is meant to be spoken only by you. “..I’m.. already.. going to burst.”

He kisses your inner thighs, then encapsulates your bud in his mouth. Your legs give out at the mind blowing pleasure that comes with Haechan’s plushy licks. His tongue doesn’t leave your clit for more than a second, suckling and rubbing it like his life depended on it.

When you peer down at him, his face is entirely pressed up against your body: nose digging into your skin and mouth latching on for a taste. He gives your ass a little spank, then grabbing a handful to squeeze. The tinge of pain turns into pleasure as the feeling of static runs throughout your lower half.

Haechan tries to free himself from his pants, growing painfully hard that it began to feel strained. One hand unzips and tugs down hastily at his bottoms, his cock springing up and slapping against his stomach. He lifts his shirt up as far as it can go, not once breaking his attention on making you feel good.

You yelp when his two fingers enter your hole abruptly, gathering enough of your slick to cover his own dick. With your wetness, he strokes his tip with his thumb and the vibrations from his moans sends shivers down your spine. But Haechan is more than skilled at multitasking, jerking himself off while he eats you out.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Your head turns enough to see movement in your peripheral vision. You can infer two things: Haechan is half naked and fucking his hand so fast that it shakes the bed a bit.

“Of course I am. You’re fucking hot, baby.” He only pulls away briefly to speak, his soft tongue flicking rapidly harder against you now. Haechan knows you’re close, without you needing to say much. Your toes curl at the intensity, your moans become louder, and you’re gripping onto his hair as tightly as possible.

The peak of your mountain is at the tip of your lips, your legs are about to give out at any moment, but Haechan is showing no mercy to slow down. “Just like that, shit.” Your hips mindlessly grind with his fast-paced rhythm.

Haechan can feel his own release coming just as quick, his own grip growing tighter around his shaft as his hips have no caution to stop. “Give it to me, (Y/N).” His low grunts solely push you to your edge, as you announce your orgasm.

Your shaking legs uncontrollably twitch around his head as the euphoric feeling fills your blood stream. Like a knot coming undone, it’s the most rewarding feeling you’ve ever felt. You try to catch your breath as Haechan unlatches from your swollen clit, and his moans replace yours.

“(Y/N),” He barely manages to speak and you look down in between your legs to see him biting his bottom lip hard and eyes closed. “--I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk... when I get back..” and with that, he cums all over his lower stomach, short strings of white landing across his body.

You roll off of him, grabbing tissues from your nightstand to clean him up. “Are you still going to make it?” A hoarse laugh rumbles your chest as Haechan remembers the lecture he has to attend.

“I’ll just show up late.” Wiping the last bit off of him, he gets up to hurriedly zip himself up. “Why are you suddenly so needy?” He jokes, partially. A smug grin appears reminding you of his haughty personality.

You scoff at his remark, “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, but why do that when I clearly give you the best orgasms of your life.” He shrugs, his tone being quite matter of fact. He chuckles mischievously at your displeased expression, running out your room before you can chase him out.

“Okay, I’m leaving!” He yells from the hall, hurrying down the stairs to catch the last half of his lecture.

“Bye, thank you... I guess..” You pull your panties up, your voice trailing off when you step out of your room to the top of the stairs to watch him leave.

He stops to peer up at your obvious fucked out appearance, admiring you all in your glory. “Any time, baby. What are housemates for?” Haechan winks flirtatiously before he shuts the front door.

The rhetorical question repeats in your head, what are housemates for?

As everyone floods back home later in the day, you and Haechan act as if nothing happened. That’s the thing about you two, Haechan never really feels the need to brag to the others, only if provoked.

You two can live in this house with the other three not expecting a single thing, not knowing that there is courage behind Haechan’s bold statements. Not even the way Haechan stares at you sometimes can give anything away. This man is too slick, too quick on his feet to ever be caught.

“You make it to all your classes today, Haechan?” Johnny asks as the three of you devour the dinner Doyoung made, Jaemin once again not being home.

“Yes, dad.” Haechan answers sarcastically and stuffs his mouth full of dinner rolls. “I had a midterm that I totally aced.” He smiles proudly, but your ears catch onto the first half of his sentence and immediate guilt settles.

“You had a midterm?” The tone of your question raises a few eyebrows at the table, the rest of the boys wondering why you sounded so worried.

Nevertheless, Haechan doesn’t lose his cool. He simply bids you his sugary sweet smile and says, “not for that one.”

“No flirty eyes at the table.” Doyoung scowls as Haechan’s corner lip twitches into another infamous smirk. He somewhat enjoys the thrill of almost getting caught, you make it all too easy for the others to find out.

You gulp your food harshly and shy away from Haechan’s dark gaze, not knowing the right words to recover your slip up. Jaehyun acknowledges the confusion in the room, laughing nervously at your sudden bashfulness, “why did (Y/N) sound so worried?”

Your food gets stuck in your throat, waiting to hear what Haechan has to say to your nosy housemates. “I had to come home to grab my notebook and missed the beginning of class. She’s just looking out for me, it’s cute.”

And your eyes make the most dramatic roll, “I should’ve just let you to suffer the consequences.”

“But you’re a good girl.” Haechan barely lets you finish, his sharp-witted tongue almost cutting you off.

“(Y/N) is the best girl.” Johnny ruffles your hair and picks up your chin, being oblivious to the sexual tension between you and Haechan. “Now, did my best girl go to all her classes today?”

You push his large hand off of you, grumbling lowly, “yes, Johnny.” Mindful to not say dad as it would steer him with too much satisfaction, “unlike you delinquents, I actually go to class and stay for the whole thing.”

“I do too.” Doyoung bickers.

In response, you pinch his cheek harshly. “I know and I’m always proud of you, my bunny.”

Haechan clears his throat obnoxiously, “I’m going to play games, hop on when you all are done.” He takes a few more dinner rolls as he starts heading up the stairs with his plate of food.

“Can’t, I have someone coming over in a few.” Jaehyun stuffs his cheeks full of deliciousness.

“Me too.” Johnny chimes and you’re repulsed that more than half of the house is going to be having sex at the same time.

“In that case, that is my cue to leave and put on noise canceling headphones.” Doyoung gathers his plate to rush out of the scene.

Jaehyun and Johnny finish their dinners at an impressive speed, “don’t be too loud, Haechan!” Johnny loudly proclaims and though you can’t see Haechan’s face, you can imagine his devilish smile through the cadence of his voice.

“Oh, trust me. I won’t be the loud one tonight.” Your phone lights up from incoming texts. As your eyes register the messages, you almost choke on your food at the implications.

housemate haechan: come to my room when you’re done

housemate haechan: and don’t expect to walk tomorrow:)

And you’re finishing your dinner as fast as everyone else is, shamefully excited to make your way upstairs.

What are housemates for?

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct smut #haechan #lee haechan #haechan smut #nct imagines

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Searing Starlight (chapter two)

A/n Chapter twooo!! I cannot believe the support I’ve been getting on here im so excited to share my six of crows/shadow and bone fics with y’all!

Lmk if you’d like to be tagged when I update this story!! And just letting y’all know I take requests so if you have an idea you’d like to see me attempt feel free to comment it or send it in :))

At least Kaz’s claimed ‘wraith’ (which is such an odd thing to just have) is a girl, and a seemingly kind one at that. She was quick to find me, body pressed into wooden shelves and glass bottles, and subtly gesture for me to follow her. It had been difficult to keep track of her flighty form through the crowd, but I think there was a point in her strange raveling, to make sure no one was following me.

She’s not particularly talkative, but she doesn’t seem bothered by me. She tossed me a random oversized shirt to pull over my dress when she saw how I kept adjusting the fabric and crossing my arms. That was kinder than she needed to be. I think I’ll like her.

“So you’re a wraith,” I manage, breaking the nervous silence, “Like a full time, constantly on-call wraith.”

The question seems to puzzle her, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Yes.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly, a smile. “A full time, constantly on-call wraith.” She hesitates, perfect stance adjusting. “What were you doing before?”

Great. This question. “Nothing important.” It’s not a fair cop-out. Especially since she answered my question. “I um...I’m indentured to Rollan Kenya.”

I watch her reaction to the name. Some know of him. Some revere him. Some loathe him and everything he’s associated with. “His religious interpretations are controversial.”

“If you think what he says to the public is bad you should hear what he says in private.” I push myself further into the chair I’m in.

Something strange flickers over her features. “I can imagine.”

Shaking my head, I hope I’m ending this conversation. “What’s your name?”

A hesitation. “Inej.”

I nod once, “I’m y/n.”

“Do you need water, y/n?”

I scratch my still exposed knee. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

She’s quick to leave, feet making no noise. A minute later she returns with a cup. I have no reason to suspect her, but I still sniff the cup before taking a cautious sip. I wonder if Anya made it back home. I wonder if she’s worse off for it.

Before I can fall into a pit of debating despair, the door to the room Inej took me to squeaks open. On instinct, I snap my gaze towards the door, tensing. The first person I notice is Kaz, entering the room with a determination too intense for this time of night. Jesper is quick to follow, and I drop my stare. I’ve never had to interact with anyone I’ve lied to after taking their money.

“Are they gone?” Inej asks, clearly accustomed to such brooding tension.

Kaz nods once, “It took too much convincing--the Inferni’s more than she’s letting on.”

I’m literally in the room. “I’m not--we’ve spoken two words to each other, sorry my abilities didn’t come up.”

He turns towards me with a deadly grace. My grip on the cup tightens. What the hell is wrong for me? How deeply instilled is that god complex Kenya wanted in me? It must be as part of me as my name if I felt comfortable enough to speak that way to Kaz Brekker.

I keep my eyes on his cane, waiting for some kind of physical retaliation. “Maybe the grisha hunting you would appreciate your sense of humor more.”

It’s a bluff. He needs me. He’s desperate for something that can mimic a Sun Summoner. Still though, I’m not in the mood to poke a bear with a stick. “Speaking from experience,” I clear my throat awkwardly, “They tend not to.”

“Then I suggest you begin explaining before I decide I’d rather take my chances and you lose your worth.”

Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last eleven years of my life with Kenya, his words would haunt me. I keep my expression set, but the lanterns in the room flicker. “It’s not as impressive as they’re making it seem--Inferni can produce fire, regular, red, bright fire.” I pause, feeling energy in my palms. “I can do the same, but I can also,” I extend a flat palm, “Do this.”

I focus my energy on restraint, forcing the fire on my skin to remain there, covering my palms in a cold, blue glow. “It’s still fire, just blue--and that matters to them because blue light is the only kind you can use in the Fold.” Do they know anything about the fold? “Kenya, the man I’m indentured to, believes that this ability makes me eligible for Sainthood. He specializes in collecting people he thinks are eligible for Sainthood.” The low flame coating my palm licks upwards as I remember what disappointing Kenya means. “And if you don’t meet his standards, he’ll find a way to make sure you do. That’s why the grisha want me. He made me more and they believe that if they give me to someone who can give me an amplifier I’ll be able to produce enough blue light to protect an entire fleet.”

“What do you mean ‘he’ll find a way to make sure you do’?” Inej’s voice is cautious. An attempt to be respectful.

I drop my palm, letting the fire disappear into nothingness. “I wasn’t born with the ability to control the blue light so well--It’s difficult enough to produce for longer than two seconds let alone keep it from burning everything in sight. By the time I ended up in Kenya’s control he had learned that certain stimulants. Some scientists are working on a more grisha-targeted kind, but Kenya has managed to work with the generic well enough.” Hands shaking, I wipe the condensation off the side of the cup and hold out my wrist. Using the condensation, I begin to wipe at my wrist and forearm, smearing my makeup and revealing the needle bruises. “The key is withdrawals.”

Thoughts of begging Kenya, crying and screaming for another fix as he promised to give me that as soon as I showed some control of my abilities, make the shaking in my hand worse. I clasp my hands together, squeezing them in hopes of hiding the signs of withdrawal.

I stare at the ground, not wanting to take anyone’s reaction in. I handle pity as well as I handle kindness.

“Do you think you could produce enough blue light for one ship?”

Looking up, I take in Kaz’s measured expression. I’m glad he’s sticking to business. I’d rather that than deal with unpacking all of that with a group of strangers that don’t care if I live or die.

“I could try.” I’ve never tried to protect anything that large. “Even if I can, it doesn’t mean a voyage like that will be safe.”

“There’s no real safety in the Fold,” he replies easily. Realistic expectations. That will make this easier. “No one finds out about her--especially not Pekka Rollins.”

I pull my arm towards my body, glad for the opportunity to hide the bruises. Signs of my weakness. The worst part was always the way Kenya would speak to me after. Pathetic. Weak. Trapped within the restraints of my flesh.

“Who’s Pekka Rollins?”

Kaz briefly turns his head in my direction. “No one that will ever concern you.” He ignores my annoyed huff. “We’ll use the Inferni to get to Alina Starkov.”

Alina. Alina Starkov. “What do you want with Alina?”

At that, the room seems to drain. I feel weirder than when they were seeing my abilities.

“You know her?” Jesper’s surprise reveals more than Kaz wants him to. I don’t miss the glare he receives.

I half-shrug. “We were in the same orphanage for awhile.”

“How did you get to Ketterdam?” I don’t trust Kaz’s urgency.

“I don’t remember, I was a child and I--I hit my head that night I think. I just woke up and I was with Kenya.”

“How well do you know Alina?”

There was a point in time in which she was my best friend. We learned how to braid hair by practicing on each other, we would draw maps together, and I was the only one who knew about her crush on Mal. “Not that well.”

He takes a step forward, eyes almost squinting. The touch of distrust is evident on his face. “If you’re lying I’ll find out.”

I owe Alina at least this. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

I’m not naive enough to believe that I’ve convinced him, but his intense gaze does not remain on me. I’m relieved when his attention is off of me, but he’s only moving on to start planning the riskiest thing I’ve ever done.

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black

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chiwhorei · 4 years

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team spirit

pairing: k. sakusa x fem!reader x a. miya

genre: college!au, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.6k

warnings: threesome, semi-public sex, daddy kink, spitting, a spank, a tiny bit of choking, tit-fucking, degradation, a little coercion, curruption, gaslighting, voyeurism, a subtle age gap (freshman vs. senior in college), cum play, cum eating. nothing too crazy and everything is consensual- it’s just pretty dirty lmao

a/n: in a radical act of self care i have given up on kinktober as it was killing all love that i had for writing. i present to you a piece written solely because it made me h-word. thank you to the love of my life @hqbbg for beta reading, you have my soul and share my desire to be mask-man’s little bitch.

hymn: smells like teen spirit by: nirvana

“Didn’t I tell ya’, princess?” Atsumu’s voice is low and sharp against the shell of your ear as he brushes away a rogue strand of hair from where it fell from your high-pony. The action gentle, the tone unmistakingly galled. “I told ya to behave, but ya’ never want to listen to me.”

The grip he has on you is bruising, fingers nestled on your hips, large hands scrunching your pleated cheer skirt and exposing you to the almost empty locker room. Your boyfriend’s hard-on is distinct against his shorts, pressing against your bare cunt. Your hips buck desperately in his hold, but any fight is useless. There’s no way Atsumu will give you more than just minimal friction; only enough to make you dizzy and malleable in his capture.

Atsumu isn’t oblivious. He’s fully aware of how sweet you look every week, cheering on the sidelines of his games, donning his jersey number in a heart on the apple of your cheek. Having the prettiest little member of your college’s cheer squad in his bed every night never fails to fill him with an almost evil pride. Ever since the beginning of the season, your first year in college, Atsumu has been on you. The moment he first saw you, skin sheened with a layer of sweat and workout shorts riding up high enough to see the angelic curve of your ass cheeks, you were his. He totes a fine line, dancing between cockiness at his prize girlfriend when you’re hit on or ogled, and egregious rage.

Game-night started the same as any other: Astumu sneaking away before warm-ups to kabedon you against the wall when you walked out of the girls locker room. You always flush red-hot, no matter how many times he traps you, fiddling with the pom-poms in your hold. He grabs them from you, tossing them without care onto the ground to pull you tightly against his hard chest, your wrist pinned against the front of your uniform top in one of his hands. The rest of your squad walks by the two of you without much thought; the scene unfolding is rehearsed at this point. It seems like the whole student-body ignores the two of you.

“You act more like a horny teenager than a senior in college, Atsumu.” You puff your cheeks out and glare at him from the fringe of your perfectly curled eyelashes. The fake-blond towering above you snorts at your defiance.

“Well, you act more like an old prude than a freshman in college, princess.” His lips dip lower to fan over yours, “And my name ain’t Atsumu.”

Your knees feel weak trapped in his grip, his presence a strange mix of comfort and distress. You’re welcomed home into the den of a lion. You gulp down a painful air bubble trapped in your throat and mumble an apology.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

It seems to please the arrogant setter, earning you a chirpy laugh as he twirls a piece of your hair in his finger. You hate when Atsumu seems upset with you, so relief washes over you at the light gesture. He releases his hold on your wrists and pulls you into a sloppy kiss. You melt into the feeling of his lips, his hands rubbing up and down your arms lazily, causing your body to slack against him. Atsumu’s attention always renders you compliant (often against better judgement).

“I’ve gotta go, but make sure I hear ya’ cheering out there for me, sweetheart,” he says after letting go of your lips with one last nip. So begins the quick restoration of your uniform from where it was misplaced by setter fingers. After you’ve collected yourself under the watchful eye of your senior, you bend at the waist to pick up the stray poms and feel the swift union of Atsumu’s hand against your ass. You scoff at his childishness, even though you had expected it. Game nights are always the same.

The same round of cat and mouse, the same suffocating sexual tension and embarrassing public display.

The only anomaly tonight is the lecherous stare of your boyfriend's teammate on your folded body. A stare that shouldn’t belong to the curly haired man fixes onto you and the view of your tight pair of spandex has turned him into stone.

Pride is a cardinal sin, and so is lust.

“Do ya’ like what ya’ see, Omi? She’s a pretty little thing ain’t she?” Your eyes snap up to meet the gaze of the man in front of your disheveled form. Sakusa’s eyes are dark and cold; his expression reads indifference, but the hard cock in his shorts is clearly seen. He’s frozen in place a few feet in front of the bench you’re displayed on. Your crisp white sneakers are on either side of Atsumu’s built thighs, knees bent and held in place by the man under you. Your uniform top and bra have been pushed up unceremoniously, freeing your tits to bounce slightly with every squirm. Sakusa watches every jiggle of soft, supple skin in front of him. The tent in his boxers is becoming painful with every heave. Both hands are pressed stiffly to his sides, left hand clutching your white, cotton panties. The fabric is damp, sticking slightly against his fingers and making him cringe. Disgusting.

Atsumu’s hand wanders down to spread the puffy lips of your pussy, long middle finger proading against your tight hole. Atsumu growls at the feeling of your arousal, not wasting any time sticking a digit into you with practiced movements. You whimper at the intrusion, legs feeling weak and shaky from their strained position as Atsumu adds a second finger with ease. He always knows exactly how to work you over, rendering you at a loss for words with his prodding against the spongy anterior of your pussy.

“Y/n is always such a little mess on her daddy’s fingers.” His middle and pointer finger are pulled out with a resounding pop and his palm lands a harsh pat against your clit. “Do you like putting on a show for Sakusa-san? He seems to fancy ya’, doesn't he?” You’re asked a question but can only yelp in response as Atsumu’s fingers are shoved back into you, pumping with fervor.

The tall man in front of you is only partially familiar; aside from volleyball games and visiting your boyfriend at practice, you’ve only seen Sakusa at the occasional party or team dinner. He’s never seemed too keen on getting to know you before, but now he’s palming himself at the sight of your most intimate angles completely open for his viewing pleasure. Sakusa’s slightly flushed cheeks and boring stare causes your cunt to clench around Atsumu’s fingers. Ever the painfully observant man, neither the tightening muscles nor the reason behind it is lost on the blond.

“Ya’ like being watched, that’s why yer sloppy pussy’s extra wet tonight, huh?” You shake your head frantically, not wanting to admit that the heat rising in your stomach is due to your voyeur’s deep brown eyes. Atsumu is a prideful man, some would say too much so, a fact he’ll have to atone for later. One thing he isn’t? Greedy.

“Omi-omi~” The singing of the stupid nickname seems to snap Sakusa out of his stupor as he flicks his eyes to meet Atsumu’s. “Don’t be shy, c’mere.” Sakusa is still working long strokes over his confined cock, stepping forward to further invade your personal space. Atsumu’s chin rests against your shoulder, face amused and casual, disconnected from what his hands are holding.

All you can do is look up at the looming figure, black hair falling in front of his face and mouth set in a harsh line. You’re eye level with the bulge in his shorts now, so close you can almost feel the fabric against your lips. Every sense is overwhelmed, crowded in the abandoned locker room with your boyfriend working you open in front of his teammate. Sakusa reaches out and runs his finger over the uniform top that sits wrinkled up above your breasts. His calloused pad runs over the article in a moment of contemplation, before pinching your hardened nipple. A surprised yelp falls from your lips along with the already tumbling whines.

Distracted by your new company, Atsumu’s cock releasing from his shorts goes unnoticed. With the dark, inky stare keeping you hostage, you only realize his fingers are being replaced when the hardened tip is pressing into you. A pathetic squeal rips through your throat at the breach. No matter how many times Atsumu stretches you out on his fat cock, it burns every time.

“I think ya’ should help Sakusa-san out, princess.” Another few inches disappear, your shaky balance is corrected with one of Atsumu’s hands wrapping around your neck, “Since it’s yer dirty little body that’s got ‘em all hard.”

The intonation wracks you with guilt, looking up at Sakusa with bleary, begging eyes. You’re not sure what exactly you’re begging for.

There’s no restraint left in Sakusa, having used most of it up when your panties were ripped off and tossed to him with a cheeky wink from his setter. He shoves said garment into his pocket before pushing his shorts and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. Your eyes roll slightly at the sight in front of you, impressive in length and pleasantly veiny. Right under his head, you see two freckles, noting they almost mimic the ones right above his eyebrow.

Atsumu’s cock is snugly inside you, buried to the hilt, and you're pulled back into his broad chest by the grip on your throat. Sakusa holds himself at the base, stroking upwards and swirling his thumb against the precum collecting at his tip. He leans over you, slapping his head against your tits experimentally. The reaction Sakusa gets seems to be the one he was seeking, as your whispered cries thump to the same beat of his length against your skin.

“Such a nasty girl. You always look so sweet and innocent cheering for us. Does he fuck you like this after every game?” Sakusa has found his voice, regarding you coolly. Tears prick at your eyes, any retort caught behind your teeth as you stare back dumbly.

“Answer ‘em princess,” Atsumu lifts you up slightly to slam you back down onto his heavy cock; the sound is squelching in the stale air around you, “tell ‘em how you cream on Daddy’s cock after everyone leaves.”

“I- please, I-” You’re cut off by your own mewl when a string of saliva breaches Sakusa’s lips and falls towards your chest, watching as it ascends onto the valley between your tits. As it rolls down your sweat-sheened skin, the black-haired man rubs his weeping cock down the map his spit makes. Your brain is fuzzy at the attention of both men, warming your boyfriend's cock as his teammate grinds himself on your naked chest.

Sakusa grabs your wrists, causing your thighs to wobble weakly from their squatted position, and presses your palms to hold your breasts against his shaft. The pressure has Sakusa’s head falling back as soft, warm skin welcoming his shallow thrusts.

“Such a complaint little pet you have, Miya.” His hand brushes against your cheek and trails downwards to find purchase on your chin. “Dirty little girl,” his voice coos you, “Open wide.”

Your mouth falls at his order, fussing weakly at the nickname. Another sharp putt meets your ears and his warm spit hits the fattest plane of your tongue. Tears escape at the sides of your eyes with the overwhelming presence. Atsumu begins a slow assault on your aching pussy, removing the hand on your throat to pull your hips against his lap. The rhythm is a salacious duet with the cock nestled between your tits and has you clenching even tighter.

“Ya’ better not swallow Omi’s spit until I say so, princess. Keep that wicked tongue out for him to paint.” You do as you're told, as always, tongue lolled out with a pant. At your passivity, Atsumu rewards you with tight circles to your throbbing clit. His cheek presses against your own, peering over to watch his friend’s cock against your chest with wonder. Such a distinct beauty is found in the ruined body on top of him. As much as Atsumu appreciates the sweet, loving moments that he shares with you, the sight of your precious body bent to his will makes his dick twitch acutely. It’s sick how much he enjoys seeing how far he can push you-

“I’m going to cum on your girlfriend's sweet face, Miya. Christ, it’s disgusting how much she seems to want it.”

However, your enjoyment in your own depravity and humiliation is much more sickening.

Atsumu’s pace picks up, skin slapping against your sore pussy with new resolve. He wants to see you break into pieces right on the locker room bench. Your vision is spotting at the pressure on your clit, mixing with the dulled sting of being split open on the blond setter's thick cock. All you can do is produce a garbled squeal from around your dangling tongue. Sakusa pulls his cock from your chest, pumping his hand feverishly against the soft skin. The sight is almost unbelievable: a man who barely allows his teammates a high-five has your hair wrapped around his other fist. Your head is yanked back, eyes entrapped by Sakusa’s. Atsumu’s fingers are unrelenting against the bundle of nerves that now feels more like a ticking time-bomb.

“C’mon princess, don’t hold back on us. I wanna see ya’ cum right in front of Omi. Show’em how much team spirit ya’ got.” Atsumu’s teeth bite down onto your neck, angling his tip to press against that deepest spot inside of you. The fraying cord in your stomach is pulled taught, snapping at the feeling of Sakusa’s hot cum against your face, thick spurts landing on your cheer uniform and splattering against your already marred tongue.

Your own orgasm tears through you, burning deeply through every vein in your body. It’s sinful how your body reacts to the messy splotching of a stranger's cum against you, thrown head-first into release at the ministrations of the men on either side of you. Your tight rings of muscles pulsate around Atsumu’s cock, coaxing his own orgasm out to meet your silky insides. There’s nothing better in the world, Atsumu thinks to himself, than fucking his hot cum into your sweet, submissive body.

As the pair of volleyball players steady their own breathing, another menacing laugh escapes your boyfriend’s mouth. He peers over the mess in front of him, strings of cum drawing random patterns against your chest and cheeks. He turns your face towards him and smiles, finding that you did exactly as he asked. Your mouth wide, tongue still stuck out and awaiting further instruction. Such a perfect girl you are, letting Atsumu’s most debased fantasies play out on your innocent little body. Your job is to motivate his team after all, and there’s no better way to boost comradery after a win than to celebrate the best way he knows how.

“Team spirit, huh?” Sakusa tucks himself back into his shorts, leaning in to swipe his cum against your lips as a parting gift. You watch him with glassy eyes and suck on the digit when pressed against your tongue.

“That’s for sure.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#sakusa x reader #atsumu x reader #sakusa smut #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #sakusa kiyoomi #sakuatsu #tw: coercion #tw: corruption #tw: gaslighting

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

“Don’t be snarky with me, little girl.”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 12,757

warnings: same old brujeria, mentions of potential death, uh, I think that's it

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! this chapter was way overdue! I decided to just post it now because if i continue to edit this, you guys won't get it until the weekend. i hope you guys like it and that the length makes up for the month-long hiatus!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as you jolt up into a seated position. Your eyes scan your surroundings as they adjust to the darkness. Echoes of water dripping in the distance fill in the stillness of the giant cavern ahead of you. You notice the high ceilings and the wall behind you, giving you the only option but to go forward. Gravel digs into your palms as you move to stand, stumbling as your weak legs find the strength to hold you up.

"What? How-?"

"Hello.” A gravelly voice calls with the appearance of a tall, thin figure near the many curved entrances around you. Your pulse thumps loud in your ears, your senses heightening with your adrenaline. What was in front of you vaguely reminded you of Jack Skellington, a black suit and all but with features that attempted to appear human but are uncanny. Its face is long and slim with wide beady bulging eyes. A smile, where the ends of its mouth hike up too high on its cheek, is plastered, quite literally across its face. As its head tilts to the side with a creaky motion, you don’t notice your mouth hanging open, unable to find the words.

This could be no one else but Insammon. Perhaps, his description in the spellbook was empty because he was too creepy to draw, or you consider that no one made it out alive to be able to.

“Why, don’t look so surprised.”

You tense up at the sound of its voice, vaguely masculine, but its gruffness leaves no room for warmth, sends a spike of chills up your spine, and you force yourself to look away from him.

“I just wanted to talk. Perhaps, we can strike a deal.”

You furrow your eyebrows, a deal? A pit in your stomach forms, having a bad feeling about this. Whatever this deal was, you were well aware that you won’t have much say in it. You open your mouth to ask what he wanted, but you’re interrupted.

“You’re probably wondering what I want from you.” The wicked, wide grin remains on his face as if it was stuck while he begins to pace back and forth from the ends of the entrance. “I will be straightforward with you since I’m quite eager to get what I want. Would you like to know what that is?”

You gawk, too distracted at the clunky way he walks to say anything. With a slow nod of your head, he halts, arms crossed over his chest, and he stands taller than before. “I want you to make me a vessel.” Your face scrunches in confusion; your mind too overwhelmed at the situation at hand. “Like a ship?” You ask, that being the first thing that came to mind. Why the hades does he need a ship?

“No, you imbecile!” He hisses, and you jump, his loud voice bouncing off the stone walls and through the empty hallways. “A body! A suit to host my spirit. I’m sick of hiding in the shadows,” he scoffs, shaking his head as his eyes look miles away. “It’s boring.” The sudden softening of his tone took you aback. Was this demon pouting? You didn’t think you’d ever see that. “Boring?” You ask cautiously, his wide grin flipped into a long frown. “Yes, boring! It makes my attack strategy so… limited!” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, which looked more like googly eyes, one eye turning in the opposite direction of the other. “I want slow-burn torture. I want to be perceived as a human, gaining the trust of you naive creatures before I attack,” he sighs, with a dreamy expression on his face.

You shake your head, his suggestion absurd. “I’m not making you a body. I-I’ve never done that before.” “Oh, but you can,” he says confidently, and he steps closer in your direction, your legs instinctively stepping back to maintain the distance. “And you will.” He declares, his eyebrow bone raising, seemingly amused at your retreat.

“You see, you and your siblings weakened me for days after casting that pathetic protection spell. And then you put those awful little sigils all over the place. I couldn’t get in anywhere! I had to stay in that forest and recollect my powers,” he proclaims like a damsel in distress. “You’re more than powerful enough to make me that body, and if you refuse, I will simply take over yours.” “But-” “Though I do prefer more of a masculine appearance,” he sighs, eyes returning to bore into yours. “I could take over your brother’s body, that is, if he survives my presence.” “What do you mean if he survives?” You ask, your heart sinking to your chest. The last thing you wanted was Atticus in trouble. If he were in this situation, you’d be freaking out for sure. You were much too protective of him, and though this situation sucks, you’d rather it be you than him. “If he survives like you are right now,” he clarifies, his eyes looking you up and down with suspicion. “It’s quite impressive. I didn’t expect your fragile human body to be able to host me, but I figured it was worth a shot if I can get what I want.” The crease between your eyebrows deepens as he continues to speak. You consider that you could have easily died if he had overtaken you, but why hadn’t you? You shake your head, pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind. You had more things to worry about right now.

“For something you deem as fragile, you seem quite determined to receive it,” you say through a clenched jaw, trying to remain unphased as he leans forward, his upper body extending like taffy. He halts once his face is inches away from yours, giving you no choice but to look into his bulging eyes as they study you.

He was trying to scare you so that the emotion could fuel his strength. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of scaring you, maintain your emotionless face but the pounding pulse from your neck gave you away.

“Don’t be snarky with me, little girl. Agree to make me a vessel, or I stay in yours. I’m willing to give up a masculine appearance if I can keep your sturdy body.” You take a deep breath, your eyes faltering away from his face as you turn to look to the side. From this close, you notice his ghastly pale skin is like leather pulled tight over the structure of his features and how his grin reveals an empty mouth. “I-” you open your mouth, but you close it. You didn’t want to give in, but what choice did you have? To overpower something like this on your own would be impossible. Besides, it’ll be even more work for Lou and Atticus. You knew if he officially took over your body, you may not survive the process of them casting him out.

Anyway, it was just a body…

You wipe your fidgeting hands on your shorts, your thoughts jumping around, trying to find a way out of this. One-half of you didn’t want to agree. How could you aid an entity like this to allow him to wreak more havoc on his victims? And then another part of you figured it wouldn’t matter to you because if you give in, he’ll leave the camp. “It’s just a body,” Insammon whispers, fueling one side of the argument. He circles you, a bitter cold nipping at your skin as he remains close. Your arms wrap around your frame, and you swallow hard. “Fine,” you utter through a clenched jaw.

“Good choice-” “BUT,” you shout, your posture straightening as you find the courage to face him. If he wants it so bad, perhaps, you could get more out of this deal than him not possessing you. “Only on the promise that you will leave camp and never bother me, my family, or any half-blood ever again.”

A chuckle leaves his lips, standing up tall as if he was mimicking you. “Whatever,” he waves his hand as he begins to pace in front of you. “After I’m human, my pool of people to torture will broaden. I’ll take your silly terms.” “Swear on the River Styx.” “Oh. I guess you’re not as dense as I thought you were. The little girl knows how to make a deal,” he mocks, throwing his head back as he lets out a laugh, the sound so fabricated to sound human to the point where it sounded robotic.

“Swear on it.” Your fist clenches on your side, annoyed at his mocking. “You have to swear to make my body first.” “I have more to lose if I don’t make you the body, so you should go first,” you remark.

The way he lowers his glare and how his eyes manically brighten told you that he was well aware of the dilemma he has put you in. “Fair enough.” He clears his throat. “I swear on the River Styx that I will leave you, your family, and any half-blood at this camp,” he whines obnoxiously in an attempt to mimic your voice, his hands thrown upon his side dramatically. “if you make me my body,” he adds quickly in his normal tone. “Your turn.”

You weren’t sure where the exit to the outside was, but you were still able to hear a roaring of thunder, binding him to his words officially. You swallow hard, a bunch of worries filling your head. You’ve never sworn on the River Styx before. What if you weren’t powerful enough to do the spell? Will you be punished for your lack of ability to fulfill the promise?

Insammon waits for you to speak your promise, his hands making a motion as if to hurry up.

“I swear on the River Styx that I will make you a body,” you mutter, cringing as the thunder rolls again. Now, failing to keep your promise is not an option for you anymore. You may be motivated by false confidence, but you decide that you can and will do the spell. You have to. Faintly, the distant chanting of Atticus and Lou Ellen rings in your head, and you groan, simultaneously crouching forward as Insammon growls.

“That stupid spell,” he snarls, his long fingers rolling into a fist. You blink erratically, your vision suddenly going blurry and your head becoming too heavy on your shoulder. As he approaches you slowly, you whimper, dropping to your hands and knees as the world feels like it's spinning

“When I leave your body, you stop them. Do you understand? If you don’t, I will repossess you,” he articulates carefully, and you can only lift your head just enough to see the fronts of his dress shoes.

The ringing drowned out his voice in your ears, and you felt nauseous as the pressure in your head felt like someone was squeezing your skull.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” You whine, startled at the booming of his voice that sounds over the ringing in your ears with ease. “Yes,” you whisper, your arms giving out on you, and you lay on your back, eyes straight up at the blurry cave ceiling before Insammon hovers over you. The haze of your surroundings turns white, casting a halo around his face and he gives you one last empty mouthed grin. “Good. Now brace yourself, little girl. This is going to hurt.” A cackle leaves his lips before the white overtakes his face, and the ringing in your ears grows incredibly loud.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Percy watches Atticus and Lou Ellen draw a pentagram in the middle of the cabin with salt. Their movements are hasty, words sparse as they eagerly prepare the spell to get this thing out of you. He bites on the skin of his bottom lip; the longer you remain unconscious, the tenser he and your siblings become. Percy had asked if he could help with anything, but Lou and Atticus shook their heads and insisted that he remained at your side, which didn’t make him feel partially useful. But he complied, considering it was best to stay out of the way, and though they didn’t ask him to, his shaky fingers rested gently on the side of your wrist, making sure that your pulse continued to thump against his fingertips.

A grumble from Ambrose catches his attention, and he finds himself looking back at your face. You hadn’t moved at all in the last hour or so, and you started to pale; your shallow breaths and faint pulse are the only sign of life you gave off.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Atticus gulps as he holds a spellbook open in his hand. Lou Ellen exchanges a look with Atticus, the two nodding at each other before she looks over at Percy,

“You should probably stand with us. I don’t know what its choice of departure will be.”

Percy furrowed his eyebrows, unsure what that meant, but he figured he’d find out regardless. He nods, focusing on your pulse one last time. Though shallow, your pulse remained steady. He was no doctor, but he considered that a good sign. After establishing that you were still alive, he stands up, stepping over your body and walking over to Lou and Atticus, who quickly move to stand in front of him.

“Ready?” Atticus croaks with a shaky voice, his eyes glancing over the words of the spell as Lou Ellen stands tall and nods, “Ready.”

It was quiet for a moment, Percy shifting on his feet as Atticus raised one finger at a time until he reached his third. After a deep breath, they chanted, “Exorcizamus te, immundus spiritus, malignus potestas, incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…”

As they got through the first stanza of the spell, Percy could hear the gradual loss of confidence in both Lou Ellen and Atticus’s voices. He could tell from the way her violet aura and Atticus’s blue one had flickered as it shrunk into their bodies.

He wasn’t sure how an actual exorcism worked, but if it was like the movies, he was bracing himself for some floating, a scary voice that isn’t yours to come from your mouth, and some thrashing. But none of that happened as your siblings recited the spell further; you just remained still.

Dread fills Percy’s core, and he frowns, “Come on, y/n,” he mutters to himself, eyes searching for some movement before he found it.

Your eyes flung open, wide and alert, and with a sharp gasp, your back arched as the black vapor escaped from where it had penetrated you in the chest like a thick control stream of smoke. Percy winces as a strained cry of agony leaves your lips, your eyes watering as they’re fixed right at the ceiling.

Atticus’s voice becomes strained, hand flying up to clutch his chest as his heart feels like it’s being wrung out like a towel. The pain is so intense that he can’t even imagine how much you feel, but he persists, keeping his focus on the spell.

Soon, the vapor finally leaves your body, forming the familiar figure in the corner of the room.

You sob, the burning in the chest so potent that your vision still blurred white. You turn to your side, barely able to lift your head from Ambrose's body, let alone your body.

“Stop,” you command weakly, your tears dripping on the floor as you attempt to lift your upper body. The chanting of Atticus and Lou drowns out your voice, the two more focused on casting Insammon away.

Your eyes meet Percy’s as he peers over Lou Ellen’s shoulder to look at you. He couldn’t hear what came out of your mouth, but he could tell you needed to stay something. “Guys,” he calls softly, afraid to interrupt them as the look on your face grows more panicked. He wasn’t sure if they had heard him, but if they did, they didn’t pay any mind.

You needed to get them to stop, Insammon growling even louder, and you try not to sob at the idea of doing this possession thing again. Your pulse thumped erratically in your ears, and you let out a weak breath, gathering the last bit of energy you had left. “STOP!”

Your voice bellowed louder than you had expected, effectively silencing your siblings. You had to blink a few times before you were able to stop seeing six instead of three.

“What do you mean stop?” Atticus snaps, eyebrows furrowed in confusion along with Lou. Your eyes flicker to Insammon standing in the corner of the room before returning to your siblings and Percy. “We…” your shaky arm manages to pull yourself up despite the world still fuzzy around you. “we’ve made a deal,” you croak, moving to stand up from the floor a little too fast.

As you stumble onto your feet, still pale and disoriented, Percy rushes over and grabs your arm, catching you before you tipped over. You groan as you lean your side against him, your eyes closing in hopes that when you open them, everything will be back to normal. “What?” Lou Ellen asks, quickly pulling the chair away from Percy’s desk and placing it behind your knees before you plop down into it. “What deal?” Atticus urges, refusing to sit even though his legs felt weak. You take a second to compose yourself, trying to figure out how you can explain it to them without sounding insane. Just by looking at Lou Ellen’s eager expression, you were expecting her to protest.

“He took my subconscious somewhere, and we spoke…” you say cautiously, focusing on your fiddling hands. “And?”

“He said he’d leave us alone on the agreement that I…” your voice falters, “on the agreement that I build him a body.” “WHAT?” You jump as Atticus and Lou Ellen shout at the same time. “Are you insane?” You just might be.

You snap your gaze, eyes switching between Lou and Atticus. “I had no choice! If I disagreed, he was just going to stay in mine, and… and you know what the chances of surviving an exorcism are,” you point out. Lou Ellen and Atticus freeze, their faces darkening as they run the situation at hand through their heads. Insammon hisses in the corner as if he was laughing, and you roll your eyes, glaring at him, “I’m glad you find this funny.”

“We’ve never made a body before, Y/n and… how are we going to hide that?!” Atticus points over to the amused shadow in the corner, and you frown, noticing his messy hair from running his fingers through it so much as he looks at you with wide eyes, filled with concern. “He’ll lay low in the meantime. He can’t get into any of the cabins because of the sigils. We’ll cleanse Perce’s cabin and put up the sigils on his door, so he’ll have nowhere to go but the forest,” you explain. A knot formed in your throat, neither of them looking convinced.

“In Alabaster’s black magic book, there’s a spell to make a body out of wax…” you turn around, grabbing the book from the desk. Your fingers hastily flip through your pages before landing on the instructions of the spell. You lift it, opening it wide in their direction so that they can see it for themselves. “With all of our powers together, we can do it.” Lou Ellen furrows her eyebrows, her eyes scanning over the Latin quickly. You were sure you had her convinced before she pulls away, tsking softly. “We need a body of water to host it.”

You bite your lip, turning the book to read it for yourself. “We…” your voice falters. Schist. You didn’t think that far. Where are you even going to host the body? It's not like you can grow it in the lake.

After some silence, you grow nervous under the expectant stares of your siblings, your leg bouncing as you rack your mind for possibilities. Maybe you could host it in a tub in the forest. No, that would take too long, and not only would you need the help of a Hephaestus camper, but a monster might also destroy it, or even worse, the nymphs might see it. Too many people involved. In the showers? No. Obviously not.

“The bathtub in the big house,” Percy blurts out, and you snap your gaze over to him. “That… that could work,” your face brightens, feeling a little relieved. Your excitement falters as you glance at Lou Ellen and Atticus’s knitted eyebrows and frowns. Even a groan comes from Ambrose, making you feel even more discouraged. Even your familiar is having doubts. Great.

“That could not work! It’s right in the big house! One person uses that bathroom, and we’re dead!” Lou argues, and you throw your head back and groan. You didn’t think it would be this complicated. “No one uses the bathroom upstairs,” Percy mentions, and you shift, perking up again. At least Percy seemed to be on your side. “Exactly! Everyone only uses the bathroom downstairs. Chiron doesn’t sleep in the big house, and he’s definitely not using the bathroom there, and Mr. D doesn’t use the bathroom at all. He’s a god!” “It’s in plain sight,” Atticus emphasizes, and your shoulders hunch forward, looking for a solution.

“Lou can use the mist,” you propose after some time, half expecting another argument, but as Lou Ellen halts with a half-opened mouth, you know you’ve succeeded. She shifts on her feet, looking down at the floor. “You’ve been practicing, right?” You ask though you already know the answer. She’s been reading about the mist and practicing since the beginning of the summer. Alabaster was teaching her how to hide items, starting small and gradually building her way up. The other day, as a prank to cheer you up, she hid all of Connor’s shoes, sending him into a frantic search for his shoes all morning. It was hilarious watching Connor accusing all of his siblings of taking his sneakers, resulting in them bickering back and forth about how they didn’t have his shoes. All this arguing and almost tearing half of the cabin apart looking for his shoes, just for Lou Ellen to make them reappear as if they were never tampered with. “Yeah, I mean, I can try?” Lou looks down at her feet, her tone unconfident, but you nod, having fate that she’d be able to do it. “Great!” You hop up on your feet, a little too fast for your weakened state. Atticus gives you a disapproving look, holding your arm to keep you standing. You look around at their nervous faces, but you don’t let that discourage you.

Behind Atticus, you notice the yellow hue of the sunrise beginning to seep through Percy’s blue curtains. “Lou, you have to sneak back into the cabin before anyone wakes up. Atticus and I will cleanse Percy’s cabin and put sigils on the doors. We’ll make sure he-” you point over at the expecting figure in the corner, listening attentively to your conversation. “goes into the forest. At breakfast, we’ll tell Chiron we succeeded. We can sneak into the big house after lunch. After doing the spell, Lou Ellen will use the mist to hide the body, and… everything should go smoothly,” you declare, chin high with confidence.

You give them a wide smile, satisfied even if Percy is the only one to return the smile, though it was hesitant and weak. Lou and Atticus exchange a look before Lou scoffs and shakes her head, “This is insane,” she grumbles, and you refrain from frowning. You don’t say anything, helping them gather their materials before Lou Ellen leaves. As you cleanse the cabin while Atticus carves the sigils on the doorframe outside, you look over at Percy sweeping up the salt from the floor. Your eyes unexpectedly meet his as he averts his gaze from the floor, and he frowns, “You really think everything is gonna work out?” He asks the question genuinely. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of what you had to do, and he decides that your opinion is worth more than everything he’s learned from just observing. You bite the inside of your cheek. Things should go as planned. At this point, you weren’t even worried if you three were powerful enough to cast a spell that will hold. It was getting caught that you were the most nervous about.

“Yeah, I think everything will be fine,” you smile softly, concealing the anxiety that’s festering in your core.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The bathroom floor tile is cool under your bare thighs, contrasting the wax that is almost too warm in your hands as you carefully sculpt the figure. The upstairs bathroom of the big house is tidy and untouched, though a little dusty, which proved Percy’s claim of the bathroom being vacant.

“Broad shoulders and tall, he demanded of me,” you roll your eyes, making Atticus and Lou snicker under their breaths.

“Is he serious?” Lou asks as she kneels next to the bathtub, throwing the necessary herbs for the spell into the water. “Yeah, completely serious. He has a list of preferences, as you can see,” you point at the piece of paper laid in front of you filled with the features that he desired to have. “Tall, broad, and blonde,” you recite. “Is Johnny Bravo his inspiration?” Atticus jokes, and you giggle, shaking your head. “I don’t know, but I might make his body proportions the same," you play along, making the two of them laugh as you continue to form his legs.

“Did he ask for a…” Atticus trails off, and you look up, knowing what he had hesitated to say, and you cringe, “Ew. He didn’t, but even if he did, I’m not sculpting that.” The sounds of Lou Ellen and Atticus’ laughter make you crack a smile. It was nice that you guys can joke, easily looking past the mutual anxiety you guys held for the situation. “So he’s going to be flat like a barbie?” Lou sits on the edge of the bath, and you press your lips together and nod, “Yup.”

Atticus snorts, shaking his head as he lays out the spell books in front of you, and you pull away from the wax sculpture you’ve been working on for almost an hour now. You nod, eyes scanning to make sure you didn’t leave out the essentials. Eyes, mouth, ears, and nose? Check. Eyebrows? Check. Two arms and legs and 20 fingers in total? Check. You furrow your eyebrows and hum, “Should I give him… nipples? A belly button?” “Might as well if you aren’t giving him a, you know,” Atticus says as he flips through the book in front of him, and you giggle as Lou cringes. “Might as well,” you agree, grabbing more wax and your sculpting tools to do the last finishing touches. You sigh, your eyes scanning over it one last time before deciding you were satisfied with it, and you hope he’ll be satisfied too. You agreed to make him a body; you never said it would be a perfect one. “Okay, let’s get this thing started. The game could end any minute now."

You get up on your feet, looking over at the window on your left. You peeked through the blinds, double-checking that the camp courtyard was still empty to confirm that everyone was still in the forest playing capture the flag.

You were worried that you wouldn't be excused from the game since you've had a lot of passes this summer, but all it took was a short complaint about being tired from staying up all night and over-exhausting your powers, and you were excused. It wasn’t a complete lie, though. You were still queasy from Insammon leaving your body, and Atticus was still recovering from feeling it as well. Lou Ellen just escaped from the game to join you guys. The Hermes cabin was playing on the same side as the Ares cabin, so it’s not like she was given an important role anyway. They wouldn’t even notice she had left.

You pull away from the window, walking over to the tub, and gently placing the wax figure in the water. The three of you grab each other’s hands, exchanging looks before chanting the spell.

I invoke the power of the elements

I beg, accept our sediment

Air, Fire, Water, Earth

Bring us a great storm of mirth

Our origins; the pillars of vitality

Conjure a suit of mortality

Gift me a figure as alive as the land and sea

So mote it be

Your auras mingle around your intertwined hands, yours and Atticus’s making a cyan color as yours forms a dark brown with Lou Ellen’s. Closing your eyes, the three of you set your intentions on the spell as you chant it in unison three times. You feel that familiar tug in your gut as you channel your energy while repeating it one last time. You open your eyes the same time as Lou and Atticus, and the three of you gawk at the murky crimson of the water that was once clear. “Its blood,” you shift, letting go of their hands. “... at least we know it worked?” Atticus nods slowly, too enthralled at the water to look away. “I think it caught well,” Lou says, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jean shorts. “Everything should thicken and come together in a week, right?”

You nod, “It said it could be earlier if the spell caught on well. We might get lucky and get this over with by the weekend.” You sigh softly, hoping that you guys will get lucky this time. The burden of this promise was starting to weigh heavy on your shoulders.

The shouting of victory from campers as they return to their cabins catches your attention, and you curse under your breath. “Let’s clean up, hide this thing with the mist and go before we get caught,” you instruct, already reaching to collect your materials.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Do you think we should stay?”

Your eyes flutter open, your hand coming up to shield them from the bright sun hovering overhead. A sigh leaves your lips, turning your head toward Atticus, who’s laid beside you on the sand, and you notice his hopeful expression begins to falter. Last summer, he had mentioned staying all year round, but the both of you had decided otherwise.

“After everything that’s happened this summer. I just want to go home,” you admit, and Atticus frowns, considering your point. This summer was way too eventful for you, and you had found yourself missing your neighborhood and the comfort of your home and your father. The communal showers and sleeping arrangements were things you couldn’t see yourself deal with any longer than you had to.

“Yeah…” Atticus sighs, and you scan his face, feeling the disappointment radiating off of him. You mimic his sad facial expression, reaching over to push his hair out of his eyes. As much as Atticus wants to stay all year round, he wouldn’t stay if you weren’t with him. “Don’t you miss dad? You know how he’ll feel if we stayed all year,” you point out. In the many letters and care packages your father had sent you too, it was clear that he was counting down the days of your return. Without you guys, the house was empty, just him and whatever activity he chose to occupy himself with. “I do miss him! It’s just- I really don’t want to go back to school,” he groans dramatically, and you laugh, nudging the other’s shoulder. “Yeah, because our father, the professor with two Ph.D. 's, is going to let you drop out of school.” Your tone is sarcastic, and you scoff. “You’re right. There’s no point in staying. He would be bang on the borders to get us,” Atticus grunts. “He’s probably bored out of his mind. What do you think he's doing right now?" You shift on your side to face your brother, Atticus smiling as he does the same. His eyes falter to the side as he thinks about the question. After a while, he shrugs,

"Probably, reading?" You laugh, assuming the same thing before Atticus has said so. "Maybe writing another textbook? I don't know. He must be bored out of his mind."

"He for sure is. That's kinda what happens when two 13-year-olds are your only friends," you joke, and Atticus shake his head,

“Dude, Dad needs a girlfriend. He shouldn’t have to depend on us as his main source of entertainment.” A giggle bubbles in your chest, and you agree.

Your father’s life has revolved around you guys and his work for so long. He had a few fellow scholars that he went to dinner with once and a while, and he went to conventions for his specialty often, but that was the extent of his social life. You didn’t think much of it until you noticed your grandmother constantly bickering with him about finding a wife and getting married. Sometimes you wonder if he got lonely.

"We should pray to Aphrodite about that," you suggest, and Atticus gives you a wide grin.

"Good idea. We can make some offerings for her when we get home.” You nod, already devising a plan for it in your head. You don’t get to dwell on it as Atticus speaks again. “Do you think the last time he dated was when he was with mom?"

"Probably. He was in love with her.” Your smile turns sad at the reminder of your mother. She’s so fondly spoken of by your father, and it made you want to meet her even more. Their time was short, about five months, but your father had a lot of stories about her. "It's been 13 years, though; I think it's time to move on."

"Yeah…” Atticus says sadly, and you furrow your eyebrows in concern. “I would like dad to find someone. Sometimes, I-I get worried."

"Why?"

"Because what if something bad happens to us? What would he do?" Your heart sinks in your chest at his question. The possibility of you living long enough to make it past being a teenager was low, and you were well aware of that. But you refrained from thinking about what would happen to your father. You couldn’t imagine the grief he’d go through. A few times, you’ve thought about the reversed situation, and you couldn’t conceptualize how you would be able to handle that much pain.

"I don't know,” you whisper, your brother's expression filled with sorrow. “But I'm sure he's thought about it.”

When you were younger, you didn’t quite understand why your father was always so anxious. You remember the panic in his voice when you wandered to play with the neighbor’s dog down the street instead of being in the front yard where he could see you. Or the time you lost Atticus for a few seconds at the giant Toys R Us in Times Square, only to find him gawking at the massive wall of action figures at the end of the aisle.

“You guys are my gifts.” That’s what he always says with a fond smile. “And when you have a gift so precious like the two of you, you want to protect it.” You could practically feel your father’s fingers patting the top of your head affectionately and the kiss he’d press on you and Atticus’s forehead when he would tuck you guys in bed as young children.

Sometimes you wished you could go back in time and be six again. When the only thing you knew was your father's tender adoration for you and Atticus and none of this goldy parent stuff.

"It's okay, though,” you chime in as you let the memory escape you. “Everything is fine right now, so let's not worry about that, alright?" You give Atticus a soft smile, hoping to lift the mood. Atticus nods, but his expression is still sad.

“Anyways…” You clear your throat, wanting to change the topic. It wasn’t worth dwelling on the future when things were okay now. Well, kind of okay, if you excuse the promise with a demon thing and the betrayal of your siblings. You shake your head as if it would shake those thoughts away too.

“Who are you asking to the party this weekend?”

Atticus sighs, quiet for a moment as if he was debating what to say. "I want to ask Annabeth, but she's probably going to say no.”

You jerk your head back, not expecting him to want to ask her. They barely talked, at least from what you’ve seen. "Annabeth? You like her?"

"... I didn't say I like her. I just said I wanted to ask her to the party,” Atticus stammers a bit, and you squint your eyes. Now it was time for you to call him out using the advantage of feeling his emotions.

"Well, you're asking her because you like her, right?"

"Wrong," Atticus says bluntly, and you press your lips together, amused that he was trying to deny it. Even without feeling his emotions, you were sure you would be able to tell. His crush didn’t surprise you that much.

"Atticus, there's no point in hiding how you feel about her. She's so your type," you turn on your back, feeling Atticus stare at the side of your face.

"As if you know my type," he scoffs and moves to sit up, leaning back on his hands.

"I do."

"Oh, really? what is it?"

"Hermoine Granger," you answer, looking up to see his reaction. You couldn’t see his reaction as he looked out at the lake.

"What?"

"I remember very clearly you saying that if you ever met a girl or guy like Hermoine Granger, you'd want to marry them.” You move to sit up beside him, noticing how his face remains expressionless.

“You cannot tell me, Annabeth isn't exactly like her, besides the magic and the British accent.” The silence that falls between the two of you makes you smile, knowing that you left him without words.

"It doesn't matter! Either way, she's gonna say no," he says, suddenly defensive, and you laugh at his frown.

"You could try?"

"No point. I asked my pendulum if she'd go with me, and it said no. I don't need to be Apollo to know that she's definitely going to reject me," he grumbles, and you sigh, shifting as you fold your legs to cross them.

"Well… we can just hang out together?" You offer, upset that Atticus had felt discouraged. You hadn't thought about the party. It didn’t occur to you that anyone would ask you to go with them either, so you had planned just to drop by and leave early.

Atticus side-eyes you, “just because I'm not asking Annabeth doesn't mean I'm going alone.” His tone was mocking, and your jaw dropped. You can’t believe you just got rejected by your own brother.

"Wow, okay. I'll just go with Lou Ellen then," you stick your tongue out at him, and Atticus smirks,

"Can't. Cecil asked her this morning."

You slouch at the news, and a grunt leaves your lips. You had planned to go alone anyway, so you shrug. "Well then, I'll just go alone.”

"I'm sure someone will ask you. I mean, you're not ugly," Atticus says, not too convincingly, putting his arms up when you narrow your gaze at him. “Wow, thanks.” “Guys!” You glance over at the direction of the call, Lou Ellen holding her sneakers in her hands as she rushes over to you. “You wanted to check on the body today, right? We should go now. Mr. D is at the strawberry fields with Pollux and Castor, and I saw Chiron in the stables,” She whispers once she’s close enough. Right. You momentarily forgot about your last obstacle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Your tone filled with dread as you stand up, patting the sand off your legs.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Gross,” Lou Ellen mutters as you close the door slowly behind you. You scrunch your face at the sight before you. The figure has fully grown, but its flesh and hair were missing in chunks.

“I mean, it’s growing…” you point out, looking off at the blue-tiled wall beside you. “Faster than we thought, too,” Atticus adds, gawking at the tub, and he walks over, grimacing at how the red water turned black and thick. “You know, I thought this wasn’t going to work, but we’re actually pulling this off,” he says proudly, and you giggle,

“Don’t speak too soon.”

It was as if the universe had heard your self-praise and decided to pull a joke on you because the moment you finished your sentence, you almost jump out of your skin as the bathroom door swings open, revealing a familiar blonde. You gasp, the three of you lunging from three different corners of the room and huddle close together to block the view of the tub.

Annabeth’s eyes fix on the three of you, not sure what she just saw in the bathtub before you three jump to stand in front of you.

“Hey,” you greet weakly, waving at her, and Annabeth furrows her eyebrows, a look of suspicion taking over her features.

“What is that?” She asks, leaning to the side to try and look past you. You lean to continue blocking her view, along with Atticus and Lou Ellen beside you.

“Nothing! We were just uh, gonna give Harvey a bath!” Atticus says, the ferret squealing on his shoulder as if he was vouching for him. Annabeth doesn’t look convinced, though, your body language telling her that you three were up to something, and she was determined to find out. She steps forward, forcibly cutting through you and Atticus, and you close your eyes in anticipation as you hear her breath get caught at the back of her throat. “What…” she trails off, not exactly sure what she was looking at. She backs away, her vision shifting from the three of you, and she shakes her head, eyes glazed over in disbelief, “CHIR-”

“SHUSH!” You leap over, covering her mouth, Annabeth’s eyes wide before they cloud over. Before she could strike you, Lou Ellen grabs her arms behind her back, binding her wrists and feet with magic while Atticus flicks his fingers to shut the door and locks it with his telekinesis. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize hastily, your hand effectively muffling her string of curses. “Incantare: Labia Sigillum,” you recite as she flails her body, trying to get out of the binds with no success.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“We just need you to listen, okay?” You ask Annabeth as she sits on the toilet lid, glaring at you with stormy eyes. You hope she calms down after you explain everything to her. You actually liked Annabeth; she showed you around camp when you had arrived and helped you pick out your dagger. The last thing you needed was to get on her bad side. Because if you did, you knew she wouldn’t go easy on you like Percy when it came to sword fighting.

Lou paces behind you, biting on her fingernails, “We’re so dead. She’s going to tell Chiron!” Atticus shakes his head, “No, she won’t. Right?” He asks Annabeth. Her persistent glare doesn't make you feel too confident in his assumption. You did not doubt in your mind that Annabeth would go to Chiron if you didn’t have her hostage in the bathroom right now.

“Look, you remember the demon thing we had to cast out of Percy’s cabin… the demon we told Chiron that’s already gone?”

You wait for a response, but you only receive a rolling of her eyes. You take that as a yes, so you continue, “when we tried to cast it away, it possessed me and made me make a deal with him. The deal is if I make him a body, he’ll leave all of us alone; which explains that.” You point to the half wax, half-human sitting up in the tub

Annabeth hesitantly looks over at it before returning her gaze to you. A series of grunts and groans leave her throat as if she’s trying to tell you something. “If I take the spell off of you, do you promise not to call Chiron?” You ask nervously, and though Annabeth nods, you didn’t quite believe her, but you decide to undo it anyway. Maybe, being the child of the wisdom goddess, she could help you out. Perhaps, give some words of advice. “Incantare: Contrarium,” you say softly, pointing at her lips. Her dark stare remains as her lips return to normal, the three of you still as you wait for her to speak. “All of you are idiots,” she snaps after some silence. So much for wise words.

You shift on your feet, opening your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off, “Are you really going to let that thing out into the world?”

“I mean, it’s going to terrorize people regardless,” you trail off as Annabeth gives you a look, telling you you needed to consider everything you’ve been worried about. Of course, you didn’t want to let him loose with a body that opened new possibilities for him. You bite the inside of your cheek as you come to terms with your moral code that’s been bothering you for a few days now.

“I- I can’t back out now! I swore on the River Styx that I’d give him this body,” you tell Annabeth as she shakes her head, the daughter of Athena pondering for a second.

“What did you swear to exactly?”

“I swore that I’d make the body,” you say, and Annabeth squints at you.

“That’s it?”

“Yes...?” You shift under her gaze, her expression unamused and impatient.

“You didn’t promise not to destroy it,” Atticus chimes in, and Annabeth’s eyes flicker over to him.

“Oh, look. He has a brain.” Annabeth smiles sarcastically, and Atticus nods, smiling wide and proud,

“You bet, Goldilocks. I’m actually pretty smart.” The side of your mouth curls at the interaction between the two, finding it funny as Annabeth’s face drops straight.

“Mhm,” Annabeth hums slowly before returning her gaze to you. “Your brother has your solution. Destroy it.”

“But-” you halt, thinking for a second. You couldn’t destroy it now. He’s still in the borders. If he found out that you ruined his body, he’ll quickly take over your body with or without protection. “We’d have to trick him.”

Lou perks up, “we can let him take over the body when it’s ready. We’ll escort him out of camp, and the moment he walks across the border, we can attack him from the other side.”

You turn around, considering her plan, before nodding. “Yeah, yeah! Though it looks like flesh, in its core, it’s still wax. Together we could form a beam of energy hot enough to melt him.”

“And even though his body will be destroyed, he still has to keep his promise,” Atticus adds.

You exchange looks with Lou and Atticus as you smile widely. Though you still held the burden of hiding the body, you felt lighter. At least you didn’t have to keep the guilt of letting him roam free, disguised as a human.

“Congrats! Now, can you let me go?” Annabeth cuts in, and you turn around. “Oh right, but… you promise not to tell Chiron, right?”

“I won’t tell anyone about this; I promise,” Annabeth says sincerely, and you nod, not seeing any reason to make her swear on the River Styx. You undo the binding spell, Annabeth standing up the moment she was free. She sighs, looking at the three of you one last time before she opens the bathroom door.

“You know, I liked you more than your brother, but now you guys are on the same level,” she narrows her eyes at you, and you frown.

“Sorry," you giggle nervously, catching Atticus’s offended expression,

“Hey!” ☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You look around, making sure there weren’t any wood nymphs watching you. You had seen them at the farm and in the kitchens making dinner for tonight, but you had to double-check for your peace of mind. Insammon had found a small crevice under Zeus’ fist to hang around in the meantime, and he insisted that while he waited for his body, he needed to be fed. It was like having a pet you didn’t ask for. You just hoped that the wood nymphs don’t take inventory because you’ve been taking whole chickens to Insammon almost every day.

Carefully, you approach the back of the fist, dumping raw chicken out of the plastic supermarket bag right in front of the entrance.

“There,” you grimace before Insammon’s long pale fingers with black nails appear from under the rock and snatch the meat under the stones.

“What’s the status?” He whispers.

“It’s almost done. It’s fully grown, but its flesh hasn’t covered the wax completely. It’s in patches.” The sound of gummy chewing of raw meat suddenly stops before his long face sticks out from under the rocks.

“What do you mean it’s in patches,” he snarls. “You said it would be done in four days!” “I said it might be done in four days, but it’ll most likely take a week,” you emphasize, annoyed at his impatience. “You better not be playing games with me, little girl,” he narrows his eyes at you, and your fist clenches at your side.

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. Spells like this take time. If I could make this process faster, trust me, I would,” you roll your eyes, looking away for a second. You do a double-take as you catch Connor walking in the distance. You bite your lip, throwing the last bits of raw meat you were carrying, along with the bag at Insammon. He hisses at you as a drumstick bounces off his head, but you disregard his reaction. “Look, I have to go,” you tell him hastily. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Insammon growls, too hungry to argue with you, and he swiftly returns into his little cave to enjoy his lunch. You speed walk away from the rocks, not wanting Insammon to hear if Connor called your name. Once you get a good distance, you stroll through the forest as usual. Just as you expected, Connor notices you, and with a call of your name, he is already jogging in your direction.

“Hey Con,” you smile, shoving your hands in your pockets. You look down at the giant black plastic bags in his hands, and you squint. “You’re sneaking contraband into the camp?” You ask, shaking your head as if you disapproved.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. May I remind you that some of these things are for you?” He teases, pulling out one of the snacks you paid him to get for you.

“Right, I forgot about that," you admit, and Connor chuckles as you take the bag of chips from his hands and open them up.

"You know, I was gonna go look for you," he says, and you tilt your head a little to the side as you munch on the chips in your mouth.

"I'm not pulling another prank with you." You didn't take Connor admitting to looking for you as a good thing. The last thing you wanted was to be a part of his schemes.

Connor laughs, and you’re still wary as he nudges you playfully. "That's not why I was going to look for you.” You squint at him, not too convinced, but as his expression left no traces of his usually mischievous grin, you consider that it was the truth. "I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to that party with me on Friday."

You freeze, surprised at his question. You didn't think you'd get asked, especially not from Connor, and you weren't exactly sure what this meant. Connor notices your confusion, and he clears his throat, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"As friends!" He suddenly adds, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was going to ask someone else, but she had a date already, and Atticus mentioned you didn't have a date yet. So I thought I'd ask you…”

You nod slowly, feeling a little relieved that he had cleared that up. Connor was like a brother to you; you couldn’t see him any other way.

“But I don't want you to feel like a second choice!” He explains hastily, taking your lack of expression as if he offended you. “And you know, I don't see you like that, and we’re just friends. You're not my type… BUT that's not because you're not pretty. You're really pretty, and I'm surprised no one has asked you yet-"

"Connor, I'll go with you," you agree, amused at his rambling. You giggle at his wide eyes as he processes what you said for a moment. He huffs out shakily, cracking a smile at how nervous he suddenly was around you.

“Oh, great!” He perks up, and you reach over, pushing at his shoulder lightly.

"I know you weren't flirting, but if you got that nervous asking me to a party, you must be wreck around a girl you actually like," you tease, watching Connor’s mouth drop open at your assumption.

He scoffs, "I'm very good at flirting, but thanks for your concern.”

"If you say so," you say sarcastically, and you laugh as he jumps at the opportunity to defend himself.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You switch the sweaty solo cup from one hand to another, sitting on the stone steps of the amphitheater. Social events like these are fun, but after a while, you become drained and eventually need some time to regroup. Ambrose’s head rests on your knee, snorting as you scratch the back of his ear.

“Hm, should we take a walk?” You ask your familiar, placing the solo cup of soda beside you, and you stand up. His wagging tail told you that he didn’t mind a walk right now, so you begin making your way to the exit. Before you leave, you look over and find Connor laughing with his brothers, teasing Travis, who’s talking to Katie Gardner.

Con mentioned that Travis had a little crush on Katie, and you can imagine that he was talking to her now under the persuasion of Connor, of course. You giggle, watching the boys laugh for a moment before turning around and walking with Ambrose.

“Should we go to the docks?” You ask Ambrose, thinking perhaps you could hang out there before you decided to call it a night. The hound beside you barks, and you take that as yes as you change your direction to the water.

Your mind wanders off to what Atticus would say if he saw you ditch the party to sit on the docks. He’d probably tell you that you’re boring.

“Would you really rather stare at water than dance or talk to people?” You could hear his voice asking. To answer that question, yeah, sometimes you would prefer to stare at water than be at a party. Though, it wasn’t like you were miserable. For the first few hours, you were hanging amongst your friends, and you danced with Connor and a few other people, but you eventually went off to sit by yourself as Connor got swept up in the festivities.

When you arrive at the water, you take off your shoes, letting your feet sink in the sand. A cool breeze hits your skin, and you smile, closing your eyes as you take a moment to enjoy it.

You had thought you were alone until you walked along the sand, looking up at seeing Percy sitting at the edge of the dock, eyes fixed at the sky. Your eyes may have lingered at the sight for too long, admiring the way the moonlight illuminates off of Percy’s skin. His lips move as if he was talking to someone, and you assume that he’s praying. You didn’t intend to get his attention, deciding you’d probably sit on the sand for a little before calling it a night. That is until Ambrose barks and rushes over to Percy.

You were just as startled as he was, smiling nervously as his gaze snaps over. As Ambrose’s tail wags erratically, you shake your head amused. Though Ambrose was hostile to Percy at first, it didn’t take long for him to warm up to him, especially after staying over in his cabin. If Ambrose could touch him, he’d probably be all over him, especially as he jumps up only for his paws to go right through Percy’s body.

“Hey, buddy,” you hear Percy say as you walk over, his eyes meeting yours once you step on the dock.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say playfully, and Percy smiles,

“I’m starting to think you’re following me,” he jokes. Amongst your first meeting, you’ve had a couple of other run-ins with him at night on the docks. There were always coincidences. But you did find yourself hoping that you would see him there on the nights you decided to hang out there.

You giggle and shake your head, sitting beside him at the end of the dock. “You’ve caught me,” you say sarcastically, making a soft chuckle come from Percy. Leaning back on your hands, you look out at the crescent moon in the sky.

“Sorry if Ambrose interrupted anything. He was excited to see you, obviously,” you giggle as Ambrose breathes heavily, his head in between your bodies as he looks at Percy with cheerful eyes.

“It’s okay.” Percy laughs at Ambrose, finding him to be cute after looking past him resembling a baby bear at times. His eyes scan over Ambrose’s features, and he hums, “I wish I could touch him, though.”

“I mean, I could make that happen,” you mention, and Percy perks up with interest. “I just need something from your body to offer it to his soul.”

“Like a shirt?”

“More like blood or hair,” you clarify, Percy’s expression flashing with shock, which sends your chest bubbling with laughter.

“Really?” He gawks at you, not sure if you were joking or not.

“Yeah, it’s a commitment, so you should probably think about it. You shouldn’t give your blood or hair to just anyone, especially not a witch,” you joke, and he scrunches his face.

“You’re scaring me,” he says with a slight smile on his face. “Will you hex me? Make a voodoo doll?”

“Only if you give me a good enough reason to. But in the meantime, I’d just put it on Ambrose’s little altar. After I do, he’ll be able to touch you like a normal dog. It's your choice.”

“I’ll think about it, but I think petting Ambrose would be worth it.” Percy nods, watching Ambrose as the hound lays his head on your shoulder.

“The slobber is a bonus. You’d be crazy to give it up.”

Percy’s eyes glint at your sarcasm. “You’re right. You might get a piece of my hair soon, firefly.”

You smile, head tilting a little to the left as you take notice of the nickname he had given you.

“Firefly?”

“Yeah, when you do magic, you glow. It’s cool,” Percy nudges you, and you scoff. “What? Do you not like it? Are you jealous that it’s more creative than water boy,” he teases.

Your jaw drops open, eyes bright as he insults your nickname for him. His nickname was better than yours, but you couldn’t admit that out loud. “Please, I could come up with a better nickname for you if I wanted to.”

“Oh really? Then what would it be?” He challenges. You’re still for a second as you try to think of another nickname for him. Percy’s amused stare is hard to ignore, his smile so bright you swore it glowed in the moonlight. The longer you’re silent, you press your lips, refusing to give in to how contagious his smile is.

“Puddles,” you blurt out, surprised when Percy bursts into laughter.

“Where did that even come from?” He chokes out, and you shift, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Anything that has to do with water seems like an appropriate nickname for you- why are you laughing?!” Percy’s face turns pink as his laughter echoes into the distance, and you couldn’t help but join him.

“No-nothing! It was just the last thing I’d expect you to say. I thought you were going to say something like Aquaman or Captain Saltwater.” The side of your lip curls into a smirk, and you shrug,

“I mean, I could call you Captain Saltwater.”

“Call me that, and I’ll call you the necromancer,” Percy threatens playfully, and you scrunch your nose, shaking your head at the nickname.

“Fair enough, puddles,” you say, trying not to focus on the butterflies in your stomach as he nods,

“Good choice, firefly.”

“I’m glad that you’re spending time flirting with your boyfriend instead of making my body,” a voice cuts in, and you gasp, turning around and seeing Insammon standing at the beginning of the pier.

“Woah,” Percy mutters, the hair on his arms sticking up as his mind can hardly process Insammon’s exaggerated human features. Ambrose growls, his body alert, and you quickly stand up, Percy doing the same. You move in front of him, annoyed that Insammon would dare to show himself out in the open like this.

“I told you already. Spells like this take time-”

“That was two days ago. I’m bored!” He complains, his bulging eyes roll, and your fist clenches, eyes averting to make sure no one else is around. To your relief, you three were alone.

“Too bad! I need at least another day or two!”

“Two?” Insammon asks with a chuckle, but it wasn’t from amusement. His legs clank as he begins to approach you, Ambrose’s growl grows louder and more threatening. “Listen, little girl.” His tone deepens as he narrows his gaze at you. “I am not a force to be reckoned with. I want that body now or else. Should I remind you what’s at stake?” He asks, not waiting for your answer as black vapor begins to swallow him whole. You feel goosebumps rise on your skin as he surrounds his body and shrinks into a ball as it did the night you tried to cast him away.

“Protego rotundus!” You shout, everything going in slow motion as Insammon contracts in a ball of vapor and shoots himself toward you. A sinking feeling fills your gut, worrying that you had cast the spell too late but the white translucent dome forms around you and Percy fast, deflecting Insammon as it sends him flying backward. The cloud of vapor crashes back where he stood before dispersing and revealing Insammon’s true form again.

A feral snarl leaves his mouth, his eyes bulging so much out of his head that you half expected it to pop out and roll on the floor. You gulp as a shrill laugh come from his lips,

“So quick-witted. I must admit I admire it, but I’m still impatient,” Insammon growls.

“I already told you! It’s not finished!” You argue, holding the dome for as long as you could.

“Fine! Then I’ll need to quench my boredom. Should I perhaps attack one of your friends in the Amphitheater? Most of them don’t have those fancy domes,” he points out before turning around, eyes looking in the direction of the Amphitheater. “... what do you think?”

“You can’t!”

“I can’t?”

“No, you’ll break your promise,” you say, and he furrowed his eyebrows,

“I said I would leave everyone you know alone on the agreement that I get a body from you,” he explains with a clenched jaw.

“No, it was on the agreement that I make a body for you. I’ve already started making it so you’ll be pushing the terms,” you protest, and he squints at you, thinking for a second.

“It’s not completely made yet.”

“It wasn’t specified that you’d keep your promise after it was completely made. But sure, would you like to challenge the terms? You’ll probably only get thrown into Tartarus for a few thousand years.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Who knows? I may have saved you by casting this spell.”

Insammon scoffs, shifting uncomfortably as he considers your point. “Tomorrow. That’s the longest I’m willing to wait.”

“Fine. If you want to walk amongst the mortals with half a face, then who am I to argue?” You watch as his face clouds wickedly, and he points a finger at you.

“You’re pushing it, little girl,” he warns as the vapor takes over his body again, and he disappears right before your eyes.

The white dome retracts, your eyes scanning the area to see if he had left for real. “You know…” You cut through the silence that fell after his departure. “Maybe the necromancer is a good nickname for me,” you comment, looking over at a pale Percy.

“Yeah,” he chuckles nervously, still shaken from what he had seen. “Seems like they like you.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean, you don’t like it?!” You shout, Insammon standing in front of the tub with his arms crossed and his face contorts into a pout.

“Dude, it has everything you asked for,” Atticus argues, pointing at the body in the tub.

“I just don’t like it!”

“Well, too bad! Get into it and get out. We don’t have time for this,” Lou Ellen whispers, opening the bathroom door and peeking into the hallway to see if the lights of the big house were still turned off. The three of you cut dinner to take Insammon to the big house while everyone was in the dining pavilion. You had hoped you could get back before anyone noticed you were gone.

“I’ll trap you again to make sure I get a new one,” Insammon proclaims, pointing a finger at you.

You roll your eyes, picking up the clothes you stole from Mr. D’s room off of the counter. “We’ll wait for you outside of the door. Rinse yourself off and put this on.”

“THIS?”

You and Atticus exchange a look before you shove the outfit into Insammon’s chest. “Yes, this!” Insammon makes a sound close to a gag as he holds the outfit away from him as if it were toxic.

“A Hawaiian shirt and… KHAKIS? I’m offended that you dare demand that I put this on!”

“Well, you can change into better clothes when you’re out of here.” You give him a fake smile before grabbing Atticus’s hand. “So hurry up,” you urge before the three of you funnel out of the bathroom and close the door behind you.

Lou Ellen paces in front of the bathroom, and you bite your lip, furrowing your eyebrows at how silent it became in the bathroom. For the past 10 minutes, you heard an array of noises; the water from the shower, some bumps, and bangs as Insammon clumsily washes himself off and figures out how to put his clothes on. You tap your foot, wondering why he was so quiet, and lift your arm to knock on the door before you hear a loud groan.

“Ugh! I look like an American tourist,” he proclaims dramatically, and you roll your eyes, realizing the reason why he was so quiet was because he was checking himself out in the mirror.

“Who knew demons cared so much about self-image,” Lou Ellen grumbles as finally, after what felt like forever, Insammon opens the door, revealing himself with his new body. You preferred this appearance better than his true form.

“You do look like an American tourist,” Atticus snorts, and both you and Lou Ellen send him a glare, making him put his arms up in defense. “He said it first!”

“Just get me out of here. The faster I leave, the sooner I get better clothes. If you can even call these clothes,” he rolls his eyes and pushes past you.

Atticus slaps his hand over his mouth, and you press your lips together as you watch the other walk. The clanky walking turned into a wide step with knees too bent and feet turned out. A whimper leaves Lou Ellen’s throat as she refrains from laughing, especially as he halts at the stairs.

“How do you walk on such a thing?” He asks, pointing at the stairs, and you exchange looks with your siblings, hoping that teaching him how to get down the stairs isn’t going to take too long.

Long story short, Insammon marked a significant milestone as a human: he took his first fall. As his body plummeted down the stairs after missing a step, you, Atticus, and Lou Ellen lost your breath in silent laughter. The three of you had tears in your eyes as you attempted to conceal your laughter as a groaning Insammon clumsily got back on his feet.

“You regret being a human now?” Atticus comments as he walks down the rest of the stairs, you and Lou Ellen following close behind him.

“Shut up,” Insammon snaps. “Get me out of this glorified daycare. I’m tired of being here.”

You roll your eyes, leaning him out of the back door of the big house and making your way straight into the forest. The commute was uncomfortably quiet, the three of you not wanting to be suspicious. Even though you had discussed your plan before he had arrived, you were still nervous about it.

“So, what are your plans once you get out there?” Atticus asks, attempting to make some small talk, and Insammon hums, contemplating his choices now that he was a human.

“I will find new clothing first,” he declares, still bothered at what he was wearing. “But after that, I will find my next target,” he smiles wickedly.

“Sounds like a good time,” Atticus says, and you make eye contact with the other, immediately sensing his anxiety as it added to your own. He smiles softly, though, silently communicating to you that everything will be fine, and you hesitantly return the smile as you eventually arrive at the camp entrance.

Insammon walks across and turns around, looking at the three of you. You, Lou Ellen, and Atticus make sure to remain within the camp borders just as planned. “Well, this is where we leave you. Just keep walking straight, and you’ll reach the road,” you explain while giving him a fake smile.

“I refuse to thank you for your service since you did a horrible job. I will not miss you, nor do I care about you, so I will simply say, hmm, goodbye,” he proclaims, and you press your lips together, nodding your head, “Uh... okay.”

He gives you a satisfied look before facing the rest of the forest. Your pulse thumped loud in your ears, and you grabbed Lou Ellen and Atticus’s hand. Together, you took a deep breath, your auras seeping out of your bodies and fusing into a giant orb right in front of you. You bite your lip, getting the sphere almost as big as Insammon’s body while the other mindlessly walks into the forest, too busy making sure he doesn’t trip over the tree roots and branches. But as the orb grew and the colors swirled wildly amongst themselves, the light illuminated further and further, catching Insammon’s attention right before it was done. “What is this? What are you-?!” “NOW!” You shout, releasing the tug in your core, and with your will, you send the beam right into Insammon. He fails to lunge out of the way in time, his reflexes slow as he’s still unadjusted to his new body. A scream of agony and anger, mostly anger, cuts through the stillness of the night as the heat of your orb engulfs him, melting right into the wax, and soon he topples over, his screams ceasing as the orb of light fades. It was quiet for a moment; the only sound you could hear was your pulse, and you opened your mouth to say something before Insammon suddenly appeared in his true form. “How dare you, you little brat!” He shouts, stomping right to you. “I will possess you again, not to take over your body but to KILL YOU!” You step back, flinching as Insammon collides with the borders of the camp. He growls in frustration, banging on the wall with his lanky arms, a blue ring forming around every hit.

“You’ll die trying,” you remind him. “But if you’re so keen on going to Tartarus, we could send you there ourselves.” You’re unphased at the strained face of anger that flashed over his features. The bulged eyes, the wide mouth, the way his pale skin has turned a tint of pink.

The adrenaline of your success kicks in as your siblings begin to chant the banishing spell, and you chant with them—Insammon, too eager to get to you, kicks and growls against the borders.

You knew he was too weak to shift into his shadow self. He hadn’t fed off anyone’s fears in a week, and possessing that body and yours took a lot of strength. You couldn’t help but smile as you approached the end of your chant, watching as he began to shrink, using his last bit of energy to bang on the borders and yell threats that he’d never be able to fulfill.

“Bye-bye,” you kneel in front of him, your smile genuine this time.

“Curse you,” he strains as your siblings yell the sentence that ends all of your spells.

“So mote it be,” you join, watching as he disperses into ash with one last scream, and you sigh in satisfaction before standing back up.

It was silent for a moment, and you turned to your siblings with a smile on your face. Atticus stretches out both of his arms, and hands clenched into fists, “Pound it!” He shouts, and you and Lou Ellen giggle, pounding your knuckles into his.

“Now that that’s over, let’s go see if Percy saved us food,” Lou giggles, and you nod,

“Gah, I hope so. I’m starving.” Atticus nods in agreement, and you circle your arms around both of them, pulling them close to your side.

“That was pretty awesome,” Atticus says, the three of you beaming now that that whole ordeal was solved.

“Ha! I know! I told you we’d get this sorted out!” Lou Ellen declares.

“Actually, Y/n said everything would work out. You were the pessimistic one,” Atticus points out, and Lou Ellen scoffs,

“I’m not pessimistic! I’m just cautious!”

“You weren’t very cautious when you almost singed my eyebrow hairs when we were practicing our beams earlier this summer!”

“You were in the way!”

“I was behind you! I couldn’t have been more out of your way!”

You giggle as you listen to the two bickers back and forth. While walking with them side by side back to camp, you find your mind faltering to all of your worries a few weeks ago and your grief towards losing your guides in your magic. As you take in Lou Ellen and Atticus, you realize that your fear of being lost had been foolish. The three of you were more than capable, working as one to cast spells that you’ve never done before with ease. And with the relief of getting rid of Insammon comes the comfort of you accepting that you, Lou, and Atticus will be just fine without your brothers.

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visenyavires · 3 years

Text

Bleed Not For Death, But For Love

Chapter 3: Devotion, You Shall Have

Warning: Blood and sorta NSFW scene ahead!!!

I stare at myself in my vanity (like I had the time to) trying to figure out what to wear, how to do my hair, and honestly, how to compose myself. She called me “My Darling” in the letter she just left for me, rather than by my name. Maybe it was a new pet name? I honestly couldn’t tell, but I am freaking out on the inside about it. Did she pick up on my subtle hint of admiration I gave her in the Hall of Ablution? My mind is absolutely racing as I snap out of my dissociation trance and put on a plain, black, full-length dress, and pull my hair half up. I throw on some black heels that I bought in Italy as well and check to make sure I look presentable in the mirror. I pull a few wisps of hair down to frame my face elegantly and leave my chambers. It's about a 3-minute walk from my room to hers, but 2 if I speed walk. I walk quickly but also try to avoid being out of breath by the time I reach her chambers. “Draga Mea…,” her voice echoes in my mind as well as the image of her bathing in the thick, ruby liquid. I can’t stop thinking about it, I’m actually beginning to obsess over it.

I reach her chamber door and the smell of ambrosia and hand-rolled cigarettes reaches my nose. I take a deep breath in and savor the atmosphere it creates before I raise my hand to knock.

“Come in, dear,” I hear her coax from behind the door embossed with a large, golden house sigil. I open the door to see her standing at the balcony, a wine glass in one hand and a freshly lit cigarette in the other. She’s wearing a long, black gown very similar to the one she normally wears with red roses for her brooch that matches her scarlet lips. She is still wearing her iconic sun hat with the wide brim and her pearl necklace with her house sigil as the pendant. She takes a long drag from her cigarette and exhales slowly before turning and walking to the left to reveal a glass of red wine sitting on a small table, untouched as well as two chairs, one larger than the other.

“Have a seat,” she commands, but not harshly. I do as I’m told and she hands me the glass of wine. I make eye contact with her as she sits in the larger chair opposite me and she takes another drag from her cigarette before speaking.

“Do you know why I summoned you here tonight, Y/N?” She asked with that slight commanding tongue. She lets her hand with her cigarette hang loosely. I stifle a shudder, hoping I didn’t mess anything up.

“No, my Lady, I’m afraid I don’t,” I say as I look down at the wine glass I’m holding in my lap.

“As the Grand Chambermaid, there are some things you need to know,” she begins.

“First, you need to know that I have extremely high expectations, which is why no one here chose to step up to the position you have claimed. Second, you need to understand that these expectations are strict. There is very little room to change the order and manner I desire them to be done. Given that you had no time to prepare for today, yet you still exceeded those expectations, I want to reward you with some of my finest red blend.” She said, her tone softening only a little bit.

“I also wanted to make you aware that as my Grand Chambermaid, your orders come straight from me and no one else.” Her tone had a hint of darkness in it and made me wonder what happened at her meeting today.

“Even Mother Miranda?” I ask, hoping I didn’t step out of line. She takes a second to pause, clearly trying to make up her mind on if this is something she really wants to go through with.

“You are an outsider of the village, you do not need to take orders from her. I am the one paying your salary, so you are mine and mine alone,” she declares possessively.

“Yes my Lady, I shall only take orders from you,” I nod, keeping eye contact.

“That’s a good girl,” she purrs and leans back in her seat and crosses her legs, relaxing. I exhale silently, but heavily. She’s playing with me, I can feel it. I was so sure I was in trouble for a moment. I bring the wine glass to my nose and sniff the aged liquid before I take a sip. It’s possibly the best wine I’ve ever tasted. Her eyes are glued to me as I lower my glass and smile.

“This is divine, my Lady. I’ve never had anything quite like it.” I say, trying not to be too ecstatic about it.

“That’s because it’s my own blend,” she says, her chin tilting up and her eyes staying locked on me. She’s proud, and I’m impressed.

“There’s no blood in that specific blend. That is the kind I sell to mortals. My personal favorite is my Sanguis Virginis. It’s not for human consumption,” she states with a serious tone. I take another sip and sit back in my own chair, trying to mimic her body language.

“I didn’t know you ran a wine business, my Lady,” I say, indicating that I would like to hear more. She has kept her eyes on me the entire time, watching my every move. She ignores my invitation to talk more about it, she seems to have other plans.

“The other reason I summoned you here tonight is that I have a long-standing tradition with my willing Grand Chambermaids,” she says huskily. My breath catches as she draws one last drag from her cigarette before she leans forward to put it out. She takes a sip of her “wine” and relaxes in her seat again.

“You spoke earlier about devotion and loyalty. I want to know how far you’re willing to go,” she states with a hint of challenge in her tone. Now she’s testing me. She’s making it very obvious that she knows what I desire. I could only come up with one answer, and for once, my anxiety didn’t stop me from speaking.

“How far do you want me to go?” I asked, rather bravely. To this, she grins somewhat wickedly. Her golden eyes turn glassy and I suddenly realize… she’s hungry.

I stand and set my glass of wine down, my heart racing. I know she can sense it. She uncrosses her legs, sits at the edge of her chair, and reaches her gloved hand out for me to take. I slip her glove off to reveal an elegant hand with sharp, scarlet red nails. She turns her palm upward to grab my hand and pulls me between her legs up to the edge of the seat, her skirt is the only thing that separates me from her skin. I stand only a few inches taller than her seated form and her mouth is perfectly aligned with the middle of my neck. My heart pounds, her eyes fixate on my pulse point. Our faces are mere inches apart and she looks up slowly to meet my infatuated stare. I see thick desire meshed with hunger in her eyes, and I know she sees how much I want this.

She rests her gloved hand on the small of my back and watches herself caress my neck with her nails before returning her gaze up to mine. I get chills all over my body.

“Devotion, you shall have,” I say huskily. She grins and lets out a vocal sigh of pleasure, almost a laugh. I close my eyes as she takes a sharp nail and slices into my neck ever so slightly. I manage to suppress a wince as the sting takes over my skin. I gasp with pleasure as I feel her tongue lick up the pooling blood from the fresh cut. I hear a soft moan come from her throat as she presses her lips to my neck and she pulls me closer by the small of my back so that I’m leaning slightly backward. Her free hand slides over my shoulder blades and grabs the base of my neck to keep me still and close. She separates her lips from my skin only for a moment to speak in a deep, raspy tone.

“Devotion, I shall take, Draga Mea,” she says seductively and sinks her teeth into the open cut she created. I gasp at the sensation, which excites her and she pulls me closer so that I am now flush against her body. She’s leaning forward into me while pulling me close, her strong arms hold me effortlessly in a position where I am slightly reclined and practically sitting on her thigh. My body curves perfectly around her breasts and I can feel her throat pulsing against my chest as she drinks. She lets out a deep moan of pure pleasure like she hasn’t experienced this sensation in a long time. She holds me impossibly close and I feel a rush of euphoria, enough that I feel one hand run through her raven curls, the other hand slide to the back of her neck, and my leg that's furthest from the chair lifts to wrap around her waist. This only excites her more and she tightens her grip and sinks her teeth deeper. I let out an involuntary moan combined with a sigh and tilt my head back, in my own world of bliss. I realize this was all I’ve ever truly wanted, and I finally have it.

……….

A few moments later, my head begins to feel light and as if she could sense it, she slows down and reluctantly separates her lips from my neck as if it pains her. She lets out a gasp like she forgot to breathe the entire time and I know she’s dying to go back in for more. But instead, she looks down at me and tilts her head to the side ever so slightly, and gives me a divine, scarlet grin.

“My, my, Draga Mea, you are the best I’ve tasted in ages. You are pure încântare,” she purrs with a touch of adoration as she sits me up to blot her mouth with her handkerchief. I meet her gaze and smile lightly, happy that I was able to please her. She notices I’m light-headed and effortlessly lifts me with one arm under my knees and the other around my back. With her long strides, it’s a matter of seconds before we reach her bed, the biggest one I’ve ever seen. She sets me down gently and lights a candle beside me. She closes the doors and heavy curtains to the balcony to block out the sun that’s about to rise and removes her hat and jewelry. She then lays next to me with a handkerchief and blots the open wound on my neck dry as she hums an unfamiliar tune. I close my eyes and succumb to sleep, that tune fading more and more with each passing second.

……….

I wake up a few hours later tucked into my own bed, my hair taken down and brushed, my shoes neatly placed by my bed, but I’m still in my gown from the night prior. I know I have several hours left to sleep before I have to be up for work but I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I touch my neck to feel the marks she left behind and I smile widely. It wasn’t a dream.

Tomorrow, I am to meet her at dusk once more to help with her daily soak. Her daughters also requested my presence at midnight, what exactly for remains unknown. The last time I saw them was when I first arrived, so I wonder what scheme they’ve spent the whole night cooking up. But I won’t lie to myself, the impending conversation I’m to have with Lady Dimitrescu in a few hours is one I’m extremely nervous but excited to have. If I wasn’t infatuated before, I certainly am now, and now I can show it a little more openly.

I roll over in bed and see something sitting on the table in front of the fireplace. I have come to adore the mysteriously delivered items she leaves for me. I sit up but immediately get dizzy. There is a fresh glass of water sitting on my nightstand. Alcina Dimitrescu… I would’ve never taken her for the type to care for you after intimacy. I drink almost the whole glass and then try to stand. I’m able to walk to the table to reach the bottle of wine she had opened just for me. Beside it was yet another note written in perfect cursive.

“Draga Mea,

Here’s some wine to fill that glass you love so much. It pained me that you didn’t get to finish your treat. Rest while you can, I’ll see you at dusk in the Hall of Ablution.

Întotdeauna a ta,

- Alcina”

“Always yours” signed with just “Alcina.” Her signature was informal. She’s beginning to get comfortable with me. I’m shocked and extremely flattered. I know that Grand Chambermaids are supposed to be close with their Ladies, but she had no hesitation or fear. She simply was and I adore her for that. I wonder what she has planned in the Hall of Ablution and what all will be said.

I uncork the wine and inhale deeply, all the memories flooding back to me. I smile with pure contentment, close the bottle, and walk back to bed. The only reason I’m able to fall back to sleep is because I know it will help the time pass faster before I can see her again in a few hours. I play the tune she hummed to me over in my head until I drift into a dreamless sleep, only to be startled awake by distant, mischievous giggling, and it seems to be getting closer…

To be continued...

***** STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 4, THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ONLY BEGINNING >:) COMMENT BELOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAG LIST*****

Next: Chapter 4: Dangerous Game

Previous: Chapter 2: My First Day

#alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x maiden #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 fanfic #alcina dimitrescu x reader #re8 village

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throughtheinterstices · 3 years

Text

massive and small stars

❝ you were a massive star destined to burn for a few hundred thousand years, culminating in an inevitable explosion. kuroo tetsuro was the sun, a small star, bound to give light for several billion years. the difference between the two of you makes you ask him how he manages to keep his light. ❞

pairing. kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre. college au where you and kuroo are apartment neighbors, implied comfort

word count. 1.7k words

warnings. themes of burnout due to the pandemic

a/n. reblogs are very much appreciated. i’d be happy to hear your thoughts too.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3

You are by no means an astronomer. You are studying to become a physician. You are a hundred and ten percent certain of this fact. But as you lie limp atop your unmade bed, your mind can’t help but ponder on stars, how they are made, and how they die.

The lifetime of stars depends on their size. Massive stars exhaust their energy much faster and are only able to last for a few hundred millennia. Small stars, on the other hand, burn slowly, allowing them to exist for several billion years.

You have always been told that you were destined to be a star, to burn brighter above everyone else. You are fated for brilliance, they said. All your life, you are convinced by their words.

Entering college, you believe it is your time to shine. Your days in the dust are long gone. All the ashes and gas are finally going to pool together as the enormous celestial body everybody expected you to be. You are finally away from the drama of high school. You’re supposed to be joining organizations, getting good grades, making lots of friends, and living.

You were supposed to be doing all of that. You were finally safely moved into your one-bedroom apartment near a prestigious university in Tokyo, aching for all of it.

Then the pandemic hit. The club fairs turned into online zoom meetings. The good grades turned into just-above-the-passing-rate marks. Those friends turned into monotonous group chats about academic requirements. Living turned into surviving.

You are destined to be a star, they said. Indeed, you feel like a massive star. You expected too much, gathered too many particles from the universe, that you ended up an immense ball of burning gas about to explode in the near future. You are so close to wearing yourself out. You try everything to avoid it.

You turn up the volume of your favorite songs because maybe it will drown the negative voices in your head.

You bathe yourself in sunlight because maybe it will overpower the darkness slowly wrapping itself around you.

You soak yourself under the shower for hours because maybe it will wash away the dread and anxiety.

You laugh humorlessly.

As if.

As much as you were predetermined for greatness, you are designed for destruction as well.

You look at the time. 5:11 PM.

There’s still time before he comes. You can still take a nap. You’ve been a light sleeper for the past few months anyway. You’ll hear him knock.

The knock comes two hours later, 7:00 PM sharp.

“Good evening,” Kuroo Tetsuro says.

You mimic his greeting weakly.

Kuroo Tetsuro is your university apartment neighbor. You became friends a month into the pandemic, when he came to your rescue after you almost burned down your apartment (you left the stove on while you were in the shower). Since then, the two of you had formed an unusual partnership. He was in-charge of half of the groceries and cooking the main course. You were in-charge of the other half of the groceries and preparing dessert. You took turns with the dishes.

You’re grateful for his companionship. Somehow, being able to interact with another person face-to-face lessens the gravity of the whole situation.

Today, the weight is just a tad bit heavier for you. You barely have the energy to contribute to the dinner table conversation. You just nod along and give a few replies here and there.

After catching his fingers lingering on his phone and after noticing his sensitivity toward notification sounds, you sense that the weight is heavier for him too.

“Expecting a call?” you ask, getting a bite of tonkatsu.

“Hoping for one,” Kuroo answers, picking at his own food.

“She cut the call short again?” Whether it was his mother or his sister, you don’t bother asking. It was always between the two of them anyway.

“Didn’t even bother answering,” he says. That explains it.

You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”

He scoffs. “’S not your fault.”

You know that. Still, you wanted to help him.

There was only one thing you can think of at the moment.

“Dessert?” you offer.

His face lights up a bit. “Yes please.”

You give him a small smile and stand up to reach for the newly-bought mochi.

The days after, you still feel the looming sense of your inevitable combustion. Exams were still difficult. Readings were still extensive. Social interactions were still monotonously online. Club participation was still nonexistent.

You turn the volume of your music a little higher. You stay under the sun a little longer. You soak under the shower head a few minutes more.

Yet, you still end up on your bed, drained. Nothing’s changed.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is him.

Seven o’clock sharp, he’s there, knocking on your door (tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap—a unique pattern he uses every time). He still cooks you dinner. He still talks to you about his day. You never see the light leave his eyes.

Kuroo Tetsuro was a star by his own right. He was the sun, bright and warm. You are always sure of his presence. You sense the remnants of his radiance the night before in the early morning just as you wake up. You hear the warmth in his boisterous laughter through the thin walls of your apartment. You feel his blazing passion for the sport that he loves when the sound of rubber on skin hits your ears (or sometimes it’s the sound of things getting broken).

Kuroo was the sun, a small star. Small stars don’t go as loudly as massive stars do, and they stay around for much longer. But they still cease to burn once they exhaust their fuel.

You wonder, sometimes, how Kuroo manages to keep his light burning.

There are days that the darkness creeps into his being. You’ve seen it. On days when the knock on your door isn’t as loud and lively, when his hands aren’t as nimble in slicing onions, when his laugh doesn’t ring the right way. And you know that the sun, like massive stars, like all stars, will collapse.

But he doesn’t.

He still calls his mother and sister relentlessly, trying to rekindle what was once there. Despite the social barriers that the pandemic has built, you can hear him still laughing loudly with his friends on video calls. Despite the halt in sports activities, he keeps his love for volleyball burning.

It makes you rethink whether he is a star in the first place. Something as brilliant as he is, who manages to burn bright despite everything, is something out of this world.

You ask him one day.

On this particular day, he shows you a meme, “Are medical students who graduated online called google docs?”

You give a skeptical look at the idiot who was hysterically cackling himself to death.

“Why do you laugh at this as if it’s going to solve all of your problems?” you ask him.

The premise is anything but serious. Yet, you feel like he knows what you’re talking about.

Kuroo tries to regain some composure.

“It won’t,” he says, moving a hand across his all-time bedhead. “But hey, at least even with all my problems, I was able to laugh, right?”

Huh.

You stare at him, as if seeing the sun for the first time in a long while.

The next day is still loaded with tests and homework. You still feel dumb. You still have no friends and no clubs. You still turn up the music. You still linger under the sunlight a little while longer. Your time in the shower is still a bit lengthier.

This time, you allow these things to make you smile.

Six fifty-nine—you are by the door, waiting.

Tap, tap—

You open the door before he finishes knocking.

“Good evening,” you greet first.

“Good evening,” he says, a bit taken back.

You hum your favorite song as he cooks sanma shio yaki (which you know is his favorite) and talks about his day.

Later, when you are preparing dessert, he asks, “Did anything good happen today?”

You think about it. “Hmm… Nothing in particular. Why?”

“I just… haven’t seen that smile in a while.”

Your fingers stop cutting midway across the strawberry shortcake you bought two hours before.

“Hmm?” You glance at him in your periphery.

“Yeah. It looks pretty.”

You take a sharp breath in.

You sense him take in his words as well.

You slowly turn your head back. As you expect, Kuroo Tetsurou has his hands scratching the back of his neck, trying to avoid your gaze.

Well, I’m not going to be the uncomfortable one here.

You allow yourself to tease him. “I do look pretty, don’t I?”

He glares at you. “As if!” But you see his ears flush pink.

You return to the strawberry shortcake that you were cutting.

You feel the edges of your lips inching their way closer to your eyes.

It’s been a while since you felt this way—this light. At the back of your mind, there were still essays to write, exams to study for, professors to impress, parents to make proud, and yourself to fix. The problems will never disappear.

And it’s not as if louder music, stronger sunlight, more bath water, and cornier jokes of the guy behind you could solve all of them.

But maybe if they can make you smile despite all the problems, then maybe… maybe you’re going to be okay.

Whether you are a massive star or whether Kuroo Tetsuro was the sun, you don’t know for sure.

You are by no means an astronomer. You are studying to become a physician. Instead of concerning yourself with celestial bodies, you should be concerning yourself with the human body.

From all the things that you were taught in medical school, this is something you know by heart: humans are made of the same elements as the stars are.

They are the same, yet they are different. Stars burn bright. And borrowing Guy Consolmagno’s words, they will end “either in a bang or in a whimper.”

Humans are different. They can burn unyieldingly without ceasing. Kuroo Tetsuro has proven that to you.

At present, that is all the reassurance that you need.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3 LINK

#haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x you #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu college au #kuroo fic #kuroo #haikyuu x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro fic #massive and small stars #through the sunlight

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years

Text

You Take My Heart Away [Kelley O’Hara x Reader]

requested by anon: Kelley O’Hara x reader where reader gets into a fist fight but she’s like I won’t throw the first punch bc I’ll finish it and like she gets teased by the team but Kelley is mad at reader for it bc R could’ve gotten hurt but it was still cool

requested by anon: Can we get another Kelley O’Hara x reader doesn’t have to be anything specific just maybe along the lines of them both being crazy and maybe oblivious

A/N: i decided to combine these two prompts! hope y’all enjoy it. also bonus points to anybody who gets the title reference (there’s a lil connection to a reference within the story)

warnings: homophobic and sexist language, violence, and swearing

Conversation was flowing and music was playing in the background of the bar, as the USWNT finished up their first round of drinks and appetizers. The team had pushed together a couple of tables, where you all were now sitting, laughing at each other’s jokes.

The air was light, victory and celebration filling the atmosphere. Megan and Ashlyn had been the ones to suggest a night out after your win against Japan, not only to celebrate the 2-0 victory but also to celebrate Lindsey’s birthday that was in the next couple of days.

You were currently sitting next to your best friend, Kelley O’Hara, bridging the gap between the veterans and the youngsters.

“Anybody want another drink?” Alex asks, pushing her chair back, as she moves to get up.

A chorus of yeses ring out, the team’s orders ringing out.

“I’ll help you with that, Al.” You stand up from your seat, giving the other woman a warm smile.

Once the two of you had left for the bar, the rest of the team began interrogating Kelley, who let her eyes follow you as you moved through the crowd.

“Kel,” Ash calls out over the noise of the music. “When are you gonna admit to (Y/N) that you’re hopelessly in love with her?”

“What?” Kelley sputters, flustered.

Megan rolls her eyes at the defender. “It’s so obvious that you’ve had a crush on her for the past like six years, and a blind person can see that she likes you too.”

“I- I’m not in love with (Y/N).” Kelley’s face flushes, as she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “She’s my best friend.”

“Kelley,” Christen softly chimes in,, hoping to talk some sense in her friend she’s known since college. “You guys obviously have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship, and you’ve been dancing around them for years. We just want you two to be happy.”

Many of the women nod and voice their agreement.

“But what if it ruins our friendship and I lose her forever?” The freckled defender bites her lip nervously.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Christen gives her a knowing look. “Even if she didn’t reciprocate those feelings, she’s not gonna cut you out of her life.”

“And Kel,” Tobin adds on. “You never know until you ask her. And who knows? The risk of putting your heart out there may be worth it. But you’re just gonna live in the dark haunted by the unknown and what ifs unless you tell her how you feel.”

“I hate that you’re philosophical insights are usually right,” Kelley huffs.

Meanwhile, as the team holds their intervention for your best friend, you and Alex were at the bar ordering another round of drinks.

As you were waiting for the bartender, you and Alex were engaged in your own conversation, when you hear a boisterous voice interrupt you.

“Hey! It’s Alex Morgan!” A large man approaches the two of you, holding a half-full cup of beer in his hand, and you have a feeling he’s downed a couple pints already.

You sense Alex tense up next to you, as she gives the stranger a tight smile. “Hello.”

“Oh, and who’s this?” He turns to you, a leering grin on his face, making your insides turn. You reach for Alex’s hand in search of comfort but also as a protective gesture.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The man looks back at the star forward. “I hear your entire team is full of d*kes, but I didn’t think you were one. You’re way too hot to be a d*ke.”

Alex’s grip on your hand tightens, as anger radiates off of her. “I’m actually happily married.” She raises her left hand to show off her ring.

“Woah.” The stranger lets out a low whistle, his eyes slowly widening before he squinting to get a better look, as his movements impaired by the alcohol. “That is quite the rock. How’d you afford that with your pay? I’ve heard all about your team’s fight for equal pay and all that. I personally think it’s a load of crap. You guys aren’t even that good at soccer, and it’s so boring. The only thing that makes your games interesting is your smoking hot bodies.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at this man’s blatant misogyny. “I’m surprised you know about our equal pay fight. I’d think it’d be too complicated for your thick skull,” you quip, throwing the insult right in his face.

“Ooooo feisty, are we?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “And where do you get off calling me dumb?”

“I’m just calling them as I see them,” you simply state, letting go of Alex’s hand, as you move to stand in front of her protectively. “Where do you get off disrespecting women and being a bigot?”

“(Y/N/N), it’s not worth it,” Alex whispers in your ear.

“I’d listen to your friend,” the man sneers and stands up straighter, slightly sobering up. “Because I’m not afraid to hit a girl, especially a mouthy one like you. Women like you deserve to be put in your place.”

“Go on then,” you challenge, probably a stupid decision on your part, but the adrenaline is rushing and you are at your wits end with this man in front of you. “I dare you.”

You thank all the gods in the universe that the stupid stranger was actually stupid enough to try and throw a punch with his blood-alcohol level because you can see his punch coming from a mile away.

Before his fist can make contact with your face, you grab his hand and twist his arm, leaning in closely to his face. “Is that all you got? My mom hits better than you.” You smirk.

“Let go of me, you bitch,” he growls, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Wait, I have one more thing,” you call out.

“What the hell are you talk-”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, rather your fist cuts him off. The man in front of you had been testing your patience and had used up all your grace, which, in your opinion, warranted a punch in the face.

You can’t help but wince at the sharp pain shooting through your hand upon the contact, but the cracking sound of his nose eases some of your discomfort.

By now, the rest of the team had become worried by your prolonged absence and then had noticed the commotion this stranger was stirring. Hearing the raised voices coming from your direction, many of the veterans, including Kelley, Christen, Tobin, Ash, Ali, and Megan, made their way over to where Alex was currently holding you back from unleashing your anger on this drunk man.

“What is going on here?” Becky asks, surveying the situation in front of her.

“This asshole was insulting Al and then had the audacity to continue being a sexist pig,” you spit out, directing your words at the man, who was still holding his bloody nose, while Alex was doing her best to keep you under wraps.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashlyn states firmly.

As the goalie, along with Becky, Megan, and Ali, coax the stranger into leaving you alone, and hopefully leaving the club, Alex, Christen, Tobin, and Kelley try and calm you down.

“(Y/N/N),” Christen soothes, cupping your face. “I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.” The curly-haired forward inhales and exhales, motioning for you to mimic her actions.

You take a deep breath, and upon exhaling, you feel the tension, along with the adrenaline, leave your body.

“Shit,” you sigh. “My hand.”

You lift your right hand, revealing your split knuckles on which bruises were starting to form.

“Come on, Sylvester.” Tobin claps your shoulder, letting out an amused chuckle. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, and on the way, you can tell us all about your heroics.”

You amusedly roll your eyes and lean into the other woman’s side.

As the team gathers their things, ready to call it a night after the turn of events, Megan approaches you, holding out a bag of ice.

“Here, (Y/N), the bartender gave me this for your hand.”

“Thanks, P.” You place the cool ice on your knuckles, hissing at the temperature shock.

On the way back to the hotel, many of your teammates were interrogating you about what had happened back at the bar. After telling the entire story, you received many hoots and hollers from the rest of the team.

“Damn (Y/N)!” Ash whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Way to protect our honor,” Rose gushes, as many of the women nod along.

“Thank you, (Y/N), for defending me,” Alex says sincerely.

“Of course, Al. Anytime.” You give the forward a warm smile.

“Who knew (Y/N) could be such a badass?!” Emily exclaims with an impressed look on her face. “Kel, did you know that your best friend was a secret badass?”

While the rest of the girls had been teasing you about your heroic actions, your best friend had been oddly quiet.

“News to me.” Kelley answers shortly, her face hard and distant. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering if the defender was mad at you. You thought she would’ve been proud of you for standing up for the team and putting a sexist douchebag in his place.

Before going back to entertaining your teammates’s jokes and questions, you make a mental note to talk to her once you get back to the hotel, silently thanking Vlatko for rooming the two of you together this camp.

You would never in a million years admit it, but you were harboring a huge crush for your best friend, had been for the past six years, ever since you’d joined the national team. Not only did you not want to ruin your friendship and end up losing Kelley, but you knew she would never return your feelings.

Over the past several years that you’d been friends with the defender, you’d seen Kelley go in and out of relationships, and comparing yourself to her other girlfriend’s, you had a feeling you weren’t her type.

You also had reservations due to the fact that Kelley was your teammate, and you didn’t want to change the team dynamic, especially if the two of you didn’t work out.

Thoughts of Kelley clouded your mind all the way back to the hotel, only further exacerbated by her deafening silence.

Upon arriving to the hotel lobby, before you all disperse to your rooms, Alex gives you another hug and thanks you again, and Becky, ever the mother of the group, gives you a warning.

“Make sure to ice on and off. 20 minutes. You know the drill, (Y/L/N). Kelley, make sure she takes care of that hand.”

“Don’t worry about me, Becks. I got it,” you reassure the veteran defender, giving her a mock salute.

Following Kelley, you cautiously enter the hotel room. You nervously watch the other women move around the room, as she silently goes about her usual nighttime routine. Taking the hint that she wasn’t going to talk to you anytime soon, you go about your own routine and get ready for bed.

After about twenty minutes later, after both of you had showered, you were finishing wrapping your hand and were about to get into bed, when you noticed Kelley discretely staring at your bandaged hand.

Unable to tolerate the silence anymore, you break the tension. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kel,” you sigh, plopping down on the side of her bed. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since what happened at the bar. Are you mad at me?”

“Nope. Not mad,” Kelley hums slightly passive aggressively, still not looking up from her book.

You roll your eyes, frustrated by your best friend’s childish behavior. “Kelley, I know when you’re lying, and I know that you’re mad at me right now, so would you please just look at me?!”

Sensing the exasperation and frustration in your voice, Kelley closes and sets down her book. “Fine, you’re right. I am mad at you.”

You thought you’d feel relieved, hearing her confirm your suspicions, but instead, the pressure in your chest increases.

“Why? What did I do?” You practically beg, scooting up the bed, so you’re closer to the other woman.

“As if you don’t know,” she scoffs.

Confused, you tilt your head. “I clearly don’t. Kel, please talk to me, tell me what I did.”

“You literally punched a dude in the face!”

“Yeah, but he deserved it, Kel! You heard the things he was saying,” you defend. “I couldn’t just let him get away with talking about our team like that. I thought you’d be proud of me for standing up to a sexist asshole like him.”

“I am proud, sort of. I mean that was completely badass and totally warranted, not that I necessarily expected that from you, and I’m glad you put him in his place,” Kelley babbles. “But that’s not the point, (Y/N/N). You were reckless tonight. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Your face softens at her outburst. Taking a deep breath, Kelley confesses, “I love you, (Y/N). I’m in love with you, and I just can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, especially by some drunk idiot who doesn’t know shit about football or respecting women.”

Your eyes widen and your heart practically stop, when you process the words that have come out of your best friend’s mouth.

“(Y/N), please say something,” Kelley begs.

“You’re in love with me?” You test the words on your mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs contently, giving you a soft smile. “Have been for the past eight years.”

“Gosh, we really are idiots.” You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, too, Kel,” you rasped, your voice laced with pure emotion. “I’ve loved you since my first camp.”

“Wow,” Kelley scoffs, an amused grin playing on her face. “Are we really that oblivious?”

“Apparently so.” You shrug. “But we’re here now.”

“Yeah, we are.” The freckled woman softens. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, leaning in to meat the other woman’s lips. The kiss is nothing like you’d dreamed of; it’s better. It’s soft and tender, full of love and passion. You melt into each other, as your lips move together in harmony.

Not wanting things to get too heated, especially not before you’ve talked about what this meant for the future of your relationship, you pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling like a fool.

“Hey,” Kelley murmurs softly, returning your smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She takes your hand, kissing your wrapped knuckles. “But please don’t be getting into any more bar fights.”

“Hey! I would never start a fight, however I have no problem finishing them.” You smirk, boasting slightly triumphantly.

Kelley rolls her eyes playfully, but then looks into your eyes. “I mean it, (Y/N). I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. So no more fights alright?”

“I promise, Kel.” You give her a chaste kiss.

“Good.”

That night, you stay in Kelley’s bed, cuddling into her side. As you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep, you notice the woman next to you is already fast asleep.

You sigh contently, and you can’t help but feel extremely lucky that even after all these years, and everything that’s happened, life still led you to this woman and a love worth fighting for.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #kelley o'hara x reader #kelley o'hara imagine #kelley o'hara imagines #uswnt #kelley o'hara

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Note

7/8 for vbs👀😘

@leoniejulie asked: 8 and VDS? 🥺🥺

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Jens doesn’t expect to get along so well with Kes.

It’s not like he doesn’t know anything about him going in—Lucas has chattered about the boy enough that Jens feels like he already knows him. He’s also been teased plenty of times by the same boy for being so similar to this mysterious friend. Lucas will laugh at him at the most random of moments only to shake his head and explain whatever Jens had done had reminded him so fully of Kes that it was funny.

This just meant Lucas spent a lot of his time with Jens talking about—and therefore probably even more time thinking about—his best friend from back home. Which meant that, most likely, Kes was still Lucas’s overall best friend, and his overall favourite, above Jens.

Which was completely fine. Sensible. Lucas had known Kes his whole life, after all, and had only known Jens since he moved to Antwerp a few months ago. There was no reason for him to favour Jens, and of course he missed Kes and Jens should be happy Lucas felt comfortable enough with him to be so open about all these aspects of his life. It’s fine, and good, and it should not bother Jens at all.

But it does. It bothers him a lot. He spends months harboring this inexplicable resentment for this Kes, resisting the urge to roll his eyes or cry any time Lucas says his name.

Then they actually meet.

It’s Lucas’s idea to take Jens home with him for the weekend, and Jens is so ecstatic over this that he doesn’t think about anything else. He’s practically floating with all the butterflies in his stomach and the quick flutter of his heart and he can’t wipe the smile off his face, even when they finally head out to meet Lucas’s friends and Kes is holding his hand out for Jens to shake.

Jens is a little more dubious as he does so. He can feel Kes sizing him up, which doesn’t help, and he feels jittery for a new reason as tension fills his shoulders. He eyes Kes in return, ignoring the other boy’s—Jayden, he reminds himself—exuberant energy as he pratters on about everything they have to do and how much they’ve missed Lucas. Even though Lucas had been back only two weeks before.

“Nice to meet you,” Kes finally says, releasing his slightly-too-tight grip on Jens’s hand. He gives a sideways glance to Lucas before turning back with a slight smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jens does his best to mimic the expression, but he thinks his might be more of a grimace. “Likewise.”

“You’ve brought your board, right?” Jayden asks him. He claps when Jens nods. “Great, then let’s fucking go. I’m excited to watch Lucas have double the amount of people to impress. It’s going to be doubly funny when he wipes out.”

“Fuck you,” Lucas says.

Kes holds a hand up between them all, shaking his head. His eyes haven’t left Jens. “No, no. It’s this one that needs to impress us.”

Jens knows a challenge when he hears one. His smile-grimace widens as he tilts his head. “What are we waiting for, then?”

He expects to be judged critically, and he is, but he isn’t expecting to be accepted so easily afterwards. It’s ridiculous, how quickly the atmosphere and dynamic changes once Kes has clasped his hand and beamed at him. There’s a hint of pride in Lucas’s expression, as well, that might help lift Jens’s mood. He’s smiling as he watches Kes break into sudden conversation with Jens, the test apparently passed as Kes asks Jens all the random first-meeting questions he can think of. There is, of course, some teasing of Lucas thrown in for good measure.

All of his hard feelings are suddenly forgotten, as he grudgingly admits that Kes is probably worth all the fuss. He understands why Lucas likes him, and Kes is so unbearably fond of Lucas that Jens has to soften a little. They are, also, surprisingly similar in a number of ways. Once the barrier is broken, they’re stuck to each other, whispering and giggling like schoolboys as they trade stories about Lucas and try to one-up each other with kicks and tricks.

It’s when Jens is laughing so hard he has to lean on Kes for support that he first notices Lucas’s sullen look.

Then he remembers his resentment and the reason for it, a little.

Kes and Jayden accompany them back to Lucas’s house, where his mother has vacated, slipping out to meet someone before returning to have dinner with her son and his ‘handsome new friend’. Jens finds himself navigating back to Lucas, feeling odd in the personal space that the other boys occupy so easily. Lucas still seems quiet. He hasn’t spoken much to Jens in the past hour or so, but he doesn’t seem to mind that Jens has planted himself at his side again, so Jens clings onto the proximity now and resolves to figure out the problem when they’re alone.

The opportunity arises when Kes and Jayden are in the middle of a video game and Lucas quietly mumbles that he’s going to get a drink. Jens watches him go, then glances back at the screen for a moment before getting up to follow.

He finds Lucas at the counter in the kitchen, stood silently with a finger running around the rim of his half-filled glass. He glances up as Jens comes in, straightening up and looking away entirely again as Jens leans next to him, side by side but facing opposite directions.

Jens crosses his arms over his chest and tries to figure out how to go about this. “Your friends are nice,” he says. “I like them more than I expected. Not that I thought I wouldn’t, but, you know what I mean.”

Lucas hums, staring down at the sink. He takes a sip of his water before mumbling, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Jens cocks his head, pursing his lips. It’s a more sullen response than he prepared for. He assumed Lucas would brush him off, but this feels like an opening. He should just get to the point. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Lucas whips his gaze up to look at him, then quickly away again. A flush creeps up his neck and spreads through his cheeks. “No.”

“Convincing,” Jens snorts.

“I’m not jealous,” Lucas says adamantly. “What would I be jealous of?”

Jens shrugs. This time he’s the one to look away, staring down at his socked feet as he rubs them against the tiles. “I was probably stealing your time with Kes. I know you’re always excited to see him, and you didn’t think I’d be in the way so much. I’m sorry.”

The room is utterly silent.

It must be a full minute before Lucas says, incredulous, “What?”

Jens feels his own face heat up, and he doesn’t bother with an answer. He’s said sorry. Lucas can choose whether to accept it or not, and he has a free opening now if he wants to tell Jens to fuck off back home.

He doesn’t really think Lucas would do that, but well, he knows how much the boy likes Kes. He’s been pretty sure for a while that Lucas likes him, in fact.

Lucas feet enter his sight as well as the boy comes to stand in front of him. “Jens, seriously. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Kes,” Jens sighs, exasperated, finally looking up at him. He falters for a moment, because he hadn’t expected Lucas to be so close, but him and his eyes and his lips are all just right there. It makes Jens feel even sillier, but he steels himself. “I know you’d rather spend more time with him and I’m sorry, okay?”

Lucas stares at him. Jens can’t decipher his expression at all. “Hang on. You think I’m pissed, because you’re stealing Kes?” He almost sounds amused.

Jens furrows his brow. “Yeah?” It’s the only thing that makes sense. Jens knows he would have been moping, if he’d come just to hang around and watch Lucas give Kes all his attention for the weekend. Lucas wants to be with Kes—to spend time with him, or more, Jens really doesn’t want to know—so of course he’s upset that he’s not getting as much time—

A laugh bubbles out of Lucas. “Uhm, Jens. It’s the other way around.”

Jens blinks. The words don’t immediately compute at all, but then once they reach his brain and he takes them apart, it doesn’t make sense. The other way around would be Kes stealing Jens, and if Lucas is upset because of that, then it would mean that Jens is the one...

“Wait,” he breathes. “Seriously?”

“Oh my god,” Lucas laughs.

“Lucas, seriously?”

“Jesus, you’re so stupid. Have you been jealous this whole time? Oh my god.”

“Stop,” Jens whines, but there’s a smile growing on his lips that he couldn’t dream of stopping. “That’s a lie. I’m not jealous. I have never been jealous, ever, in my life.”

Lucas is definitely very amused. “Well, that’s definitely a lie.”

Jens lets his smile settle in a wide grin. He doesn’t even care about arguing because, for one, Lucas is right, and because he’s too bewildered but happy at the moment to form words.

“I brought you this weekend hoping I could tell you, dumbass. Or at least have you mostly to myself,” Lucas admits. “But then, I actually wasn’t expecting...”

Jens rocks away from the counter into his space, ecstatic. “You thought they were stealing me away.” Lucas rolls his eyes, but he can’t hold Jens’s gaze, so Jens know he’s right. “Okay, well that’s easy now. You don’t have to worry. I’m all yours, Luc.”

Lucas looks up at him hesitantly, appearing to be fighting a smile of his own. “Yeah?”

Jens nods. “And I was very excited about it, too. Sneaky, you know, planning to get my into your room right off the bat and everything.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucas scoffs, shoving his shoulder.

Jens laughs, and bounces right back, leaning even closer to Lucas now. It’s okay, when he can actually admire the boy’s face; when Lucas is the one glancing down at his lips and Jens can hear his breath hitch. Jens is floating all over again, and he’s pretty sure why, this time. “Can I kiss you?” he asks anyway, voice at a murmur.

Lucas answers by leaning in and pressing their lips together, lightly, but surely, hand immediately lifting to settle on Jens’s shoulder. Jens fits his hands over Lucas’s hips and kisses back, trying to muffle his smile enough that it doesn’t hinder their movements. It doesn’t help that Lucas is having the same problem. After the first few touches, though, their mouths get with the program and settle into an easy rhythm.

It’s complete and utter bliss.

It only lasts all of about thirty seconds.

“Hey, Luc—”

Kes cuts himself off as the boys quickly part and look at where he’s stood in the doorway. He’s staring at them with pursed lips, repressing a smile, only halfway into the room with his hand on the frame.

Jens curls his hands in the hem of Lucas’s shirt, feeling suddenly nervous, but Kes settles his attention on Lucas.

“If you just wanted us to piss off so you could make out with your boyfriend, you could’ve just said something instead of giving me all the death glares.”

He raises his brows, and Lucas flushes right up to the tips of his ears, and Jens decides he probably really does like Kes after all.

Still, Lucas tells him, “Piss off so I can make out with my boyfriend, then.”

Kes doesn’t argue, only tapping the doorframe before he disappears again with a grin, so Jens isn’t going to argue, either.

Lucas rolls his eyes at his smug look, but he does follow through and kisses him again.

Dialogue Prompts

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #ask game #unnecessarily long...good start

43 notes · View notes

cornacopicimagines · 4 years

Text

best of friends pt.2 │t.h

pairing: singledad!mob!tom holland x singlemom!reader

words: 5.7k

warnings: SMUT, swearing, major violence, depictions of violence and blood, rough sex, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, dom!tom & creampie.

summary: Everything was perfect. The two-and-a-half years since they first met have been nothing but love and respect. Until, y/n comes home one night, her husband gone for the time being. It all somehow crumbles in front of her, she can't help but question it. Though this thought is nothing to what he feels in that very moment. It's pure fear and terror, a pent-up storm of worry. Their comfort zone is nothing longer alive, it was buried and left to rot.

a/n: so. it must be said, i went through three different plots before i settled on this one. that is why this goddamn fic has taken me so long to write. This is probably the last mob!tom holland fic i'll write because bitch has a lot of other AUs that i would honestly prefer to write. enjoy!

part 1

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n waited for a moment. It wasn't long, but it was enough she had to check the clock on her wrist. 1:37am. Although she heard the snoring of Lottie, sound asleep in her bed, y/n knew otherwise. She knew that as soon as her feet hit the carpeted floor of her daughter's bedroom, the girl would shoot straight up and whine for y/n to come back. She loved Lottie with all of her heart, like all of her kids, however sometimes the precious little angels got on her nerves. Just last Tuesday is a prime example as y/n desperately fiddling with the buttons of Tom's shirt, wanting nothing more to take every inch of him while his whole operation continued below them. Just as she had popped the last latch, James called out for his father from across the house, most likely because one of the boys got hurt again from the play fighting they insisted they do. Sadly, y/n redid her husband's buttons and let him leave her widely aroused and dissatisfied.

As she watched Lottie take in her small breaths, y/n recounted the moments. She still remembers her wedding, clear as day. It was in their garden, with the trees dressed in beautiful pink silk and the flowers somehow in full bloom. No one was around, it's was secluded and perfect. It was just them, Theo and James stood side by side, their matching suits made her heart swell. Their perfectly rosy cheeks lit up as they saw y/n make her way down the grassy aisle. Though she never saw it, Tom admits that it was Theo who smacked him on the arm to turn around. To come face to face with his bride, a blushing bride that was 7 months pregnant. It was a rush of a events that y/n never quite saw occuring so early into her life. Yet, the day she told Tom they were going to be parents, he asked her to marry him. Of course, y/n organised a typical wedding after she had given birth but at that very second, every bad thing she had to live through suddenly became a single speck of sand on a vast beach. A prologue to her wonderful life ahead of her.

The door swung open slightly, though the light from outside Lottie's room was off, y/n could instantly tell who was stepping over countless dolls and plastic cars. Tom knelt at the side of his daughter's bed, just below his wife as she softly stroked Lottie's forehead. "You need some rest Sweetness," he told her quietly, watching over Lottie's snoring figure.

"I can't" y/n stifled through a yawn. Though she greatly needed to run to her bed and pass out, she refused to leave Lottie unless she knew her daughter was absolutely deep in sleep. Tom sighed, letting his forehead hit the soft linen of the bed cover.

"You need sleep, I can't look after the brady bunch by myself," Tom joked. His hand came to draw soft circles on y/n's thigh. It was nothing if not soothing to her. He could directly make out her face in the darkness, but Tom knew his wife was smiling, a low grin painted upon her fatigued face. "I'll take this shift."

y/n reached out for his face, finding it in seconds. Her thumb now matched the pattern on his cheek that Tom was drawing on her thigh. "We made a deal," it was his speciality, but he never wanted it to get this bad. "You would help Theo with his Valentine's Day gift if I could get this one to sleep."

y/n possessed many traits that Tom adored. She was empathetic, a woman of incredible wit and intelligence, had the stamina of a bull but her stubbornness seemed to be her crowing glory. Tom knew his wife as well as he knew how to count to ten. She wasn't leaving until absolute confirmation was handed to her. "Sweetness, I would prefer if you came to bed with me," he tried, the approach was simple and usually it worked.

"As much as I would adore that, I'm not going anywhere with you mister," y/n teased. Her attention focusing back on Lottie. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids seemed to betray her, closing every few seconds or if it was simply the way the mattress felt beneath her legs. Eventually though, the mixture of all of those and her husband's head laying flat on her thighs, she began to slowly creep off the bed. The pads of her feet pressed against the floor in such delicacy, y/n doubted that she even touching it. She reached out for Tom, grasping slightly at his bare bicep as she lifted herself up.

Tom caught on to his wife's movements and made sure that the path was completely clear of any of Lottie's toys. Calmly, the pair of them tip-toed out. Every move halted by their daughter's movements but eventually, the door closed and y/n was free from the little montress's grip. y/n wishes that she was more awake, more alert because even in her half sleep dazed she could make out the tight white singlet that clung to Tom's body. She reached out for him, it was the weakest of touchs. Yet, her hand fell on his shoulder and running up to the base of his neck. It wasn't sexual in any form, instead they stood in the dim light in complete silence. Watching each other feel the affected of forced insomnia.

"How am I going to get up this morning," y/n giggled as she accepted the sudden embrace from Tom. Her head finding it's way into the same shoulder she tenderly caressed seconds ago. Tom's fingers coiled around her forearm gently as the began to quietly walk to their bedroom. "Hopefully Meg will be around at that time," she sighed as the soft breeze of their room hit her face. Meg was their nanny, a woman who has been employed by Tom since James was a baby. She was a sweet old thing, a cliché of the lovely old lady in fairtales.

"She will, sadly I won't," Tom told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they both hid themselves under the sating covers. y/n wanted to continue the conversation, she knew that Tom wouldn't be back at home until tomorrow night and for the first time, she would be in charge of everyone but she couldn't. As soon as her head hit the lavender scented pillow, she was out like a light. Tom just chuckled in return, pulling her into a soft embrace.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n wasn't an idiotic woman. She has been with Tom for two and a half years; married to him for two years, she immediately knew when something didn't feel right. As her fingers gripped the steering wheel, she peered in her rear-view mirror. It was something Tom's bodyguards drive around in. The vehicle was large and bulky, looking like it a take down a building with minimum amount of speed. It was painted in the midnight black, even the widows seemed to be darkened. Like before, y/n recognised the model of the car to be a sister of the cars she would frequently have to ride in if she accompanied Tom anywhere, he thought posed even the slightest amount of danger. She knew that with every corner she took, the car would mimic her turns. y/n caught onto it in seconds, watching through Lottie's car seat and Theo's mop of hair. It didn't help that when she called Tom's head guard, he told her that he had followed her orders. To let her pick up her children to avoid the never-ending shock from the ensemble of 6'5 muscular men accompanying her wherever she went.

"Do you want us to do anything about it ma'am?" he asked through the car's speaker. y/n pondered for a few seconds. While her gut was screaming at her that this was something completely out of the ordinary, if there was any ordinary being married to a Mob boss. Her mind knew that if she did say something to him now it was no doubt find its way to Tom. He would instantly assume the worst and cancel any important deal in front of him to race home. The guard's voice pulled her out of her concentration.

"Get the house under lockdown," she ordered, for the first time she felt truly in control but as all things it was slipping. "Do not tell my husband."

"Ma'am, it is imperative that Mr. Holland know of this," the guard protested. y/n had been going through quite a rough day. She was tired, overworked and constantly around wailing children. She refused to be around another. Her jaw clenched as she pulled into their street, the car still hot on her tail.

"I don't care, Tom will not know of this," y/n snapped, peering up for a final time but to her initial surprise that car had vanished. She had no clue where the fucker had gone. "It's probably nothing," she spoke quietly. The sentence was more reassurance for herself than from him, yet he had heard her, accepted her terms and hung up.

As she pulled the car into the impressively large garage, she lets her bare forehead hit top of the steering wheel. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Mum," Theo called out from the backseat, "are you alright?" The boy's question was laced with genuine concern. It released whatever anxiety riddled grip had got a hold of y/n. She gazed up, smiling as she let all her negative thoughts leave her before turning to her three children.

"I am just really tired honey," she replied as she exited the car and proceeded to undo Lottie's buckled. "Not to worry, I think it is Boy's Movie Night tonight!" Both boys cheered in unison. The afternoon went on as usual. Theo and James spent the entire time with their faces glued to the screen in front of them. Squealing every time the supposed bad guys landed flat on his ass, jumping at every occasion that they could. Even if they lived in a mansion, y/n was positive that everyone in this house could hear their playful laughter.

y/n sat next to Lottie; her curly brunette hair clipped back into two adorable pigtails. Lottie was a carbon copy of Tom. Even next to her half-brother James, Lottie seemed to possess ever physical trait of y/n's husband. The smooth somehow flawless skin, the bouncy chestnut curls that y/n just knows will be her daughter's statement piece when she grows up and finally the pair of chocolate eyes that gets her father weak every time, she babbles up at him. She wondered how all of her children would look like when they get old enough to make their own decisions. While James doesn't have Tom's colouring like Lottie does, he has this glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. Something y/n has loves about her boys, they all share this odd ball of high-energy. Theo looks exactly like y/n, her colouring and her features. Theo's look alikeness to his mother is something y/n feels is divine intervention. To show that, this is her son. Her baby boy and no one else's unless she says so.

"Ma'am" Meg's heavy Irish accent perks up. She's standing at the windows, peering through the curtains slightly. "I think you should see this," she advises before stepping away from the scene and running to grab Lottie from her highchair. y/n hesitantly waltzes over, she presents a cool face to her children, but she can feel her stomach crawling into her throat as she gets closer. y/n pulls the fabric back slightly, she prays that is it now in the early hours of the night and the light is off. It's the same car, it's now parked across the road from her house. Just outside of their camera’s visibility, the vehicle is camouflaged almost to perfection, she can still spot it. Its headlights are off and the car makes not a single sound. At first, y/n faithfully believes she is now seeing things, that her brain is so unfathomably tired it has resorted to petty tricks. That is until one of the car doors open quickly. She waits for a moment as does this figure in the car before a pair of fit hit the ground. Though it makes no clamour, it startles her. y/n doesn’t wait to meet his eyes as his head ducks under the car roof to fully meet the air. She turns around to meet Meg’s eyes, the women wear matching looks.

“Take the children into the spare room, go now,” y/n speaks softly as not to alarm her sons. Meg nods quickly, instantly holstering Lottie on her hips and shooing the boys away from the glowing TV.

She pauses until she hears the door close. It’s deafening. She turns her attention back to the scene, it’s worse than before. There’s at least 7 of them huddled around this car, pulling unknown bags from the seats. As the mystery bags hit the ground, the unknown men begin opening it. It’s filled to the brim with metal, the holsters of guns peeking through with the aid of the dim light of the streetlight. y/n refused to observe anymore, silently she alerts the guards in the house. She doesn’t even process the next second, it’s like nothing is working anymore. y/n knows what the sound is, she knows what is happening, she knows that in a matter of seconds the men have begun firing at her front landing. Killing anyone standing outside, she can feel the bullets entering their bodies.

It’s with that, y/n goes from a fast pace to sprinting. She rushes down the long halls to meet with her children. It’s feels like an eternity that she is opening doors, calling out for any of them. All the while, gunshots ring out like a bell, constant and terrible. Her phone vibrates,it send her nerves over the edge. y/n stops for a second to stare at it, Tom’s name lights up the screen. Instead of answering, her fingers lose all their function. Her phone drops from her hand and hits the floor. She wants to pick it up but her feet work against her and begin to simply pace herself away from her phone as it continues to hum against the tiles.

Finally, she reaches the room. Meg holds Lottie close to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth as Lottie cries into Meg’s shirt. Theo and James are standing in the middle of the room. Both look like they are on their verge of tears and to be completely truthfully, so was she. Closing the door, y/n immediately wraps her arms around her sons. She feels the wet tears staining her shoulders. She feels their chests rise and fall drop as best they can.

“You boys are so brave,” she sooths, her palms rubbing circles atop their heads. Slowly, she peers up. While the gunfire continues to ring out, y/n stares at the people in the room with her. Not a single bulb is turned on, the area is pitch black, but she can still see how this if affecting the boys. How Meg clutches onto Lottie’s wailing body. “It’ll be over soon.”

“You promise,” James chokes out, he wipes his face of her blouse. y/n pressed a tender kiss to his hair. She lets a single tear escape her eyes.

“I swear handsome,” y/n tells him, but she’s not convinced by the sound of her own voice. The boys pull away from her, one of her hands reaches for their salty cheeks. “Everything will be alright, Mumma swears.”

She doesn’t want to; she wants to scream. She wants to burn the entire house to the ground. She wants to leave with her children and never come back. y/n has never felt this in her entire life. This is not only pure terror for the lives of her children but it’s uncontrollable rage. She’s being held together by a tearing material of a rubber band. Her limbs are coiled, feeling as though she has rusted in the rain. Her mind doesn’t stop, it runs as if it has never felt this wrathful freedom in its life. A million different thoughts threaten to take power, as if they should decide her next move. She doesn’t let them of course, y/n’s had practice at this, and she will not crack now.

“Meg, give me Charlotte now,” y/n’s voice is hoarse and breaking with ever vowel that drops from her lips. The old lady rushes over to y/n and hands her Lottie. The toddler instinctively wraps her arms around y/n, refusing to let go. Another 20 minutes go by, it's torture. The air seems to wash around y/n as she clings onto her children for dear life. Quietly, she pans over to Meg. The old woman looks as if she has turned from the humble baker's wife down the street to death herself. Their eyes lock, passing silent messages to each other.

I'm sorry, y/n pleads. She thinks if she spoke it aloud, it would travel barely above a whisper.

It's okay, sweetheart, Meg responded. Though the woman only truly meant the first part, y/n wanted to believe that she would have used the nickname to calm her nerves. Somehow it did.

The moment lasted for only seconds. A fleeting feeling of safety was ruined by the doorknob rattling furiously. At the speed of sound, y/n had handed Lottie over to Meg and told her to hide in the bathroom with the children. y/n heard everything, the door lock behind Meg and the muffled yelling behind the door in front of y/n. She scrambled to her feet, driving her to the wide bedside table. She threw open the doors until she landed on the one thing she never believes she's use. A small handgun. y/n didn't quite have time to question her morals at this very second in time. y/n wrapped her fingers around the handle just as the door swung open. Tears spilled as she pointed the gun aimlessly.

"Thank god," his familiar voice rang out. y/n sunk to her knees, the gun falling right from her fingertips. Tom rushed to her side; he didn't know what to say to her. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he knew whatever attempt he made at explaining the horrid situation would break his poor wife even further.

y/n studied his features in the dim light of the room as he got closer to her. She had never seen him in such a state. His hair flopping all over his face, hiding whatever panic was clearly evident over his features. More specifically, y/n watched as it became clearer. A large splatter of blood across his right cheek. She fell right into his arms, finally allowing herself to stain his shirt with her burst of weeps.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n's body was on fire. The fire was nothing but pure pain. As if bugs were nesting right under skin, desperate for a gasp of air. Even the clock ticked loudly, ever noise of the hand pressed her brain against her skull. Every joint rigid in its own specific way, damaged and tight.

"Sweetness, talk to me," Tom soothed, using the towel to clean the final fragments of blood off his cheek. Her eyes squinted at him, waiting for him to do anything other than be his normal gentle self. y/n slid herself off the foot of their bed and walked to the closed door. Flashing images of the other room crossing her mind.

"I need to check on the kids," she huffed. While y/n knew Meg was laying wide away on the floor of Theo's room as all three children slept contently, she wanted to be away from him at a moment like this. She needed to not see his face. Alas, Tom's hand gripped her wrist tightly. The touch sizzled her skin, the tension elevated for a split second.

y/n whipped around to face him; Tom felt his patience slipping from him. "y/n, be an adult," he hissed.

Tom knew he shouldn't be talking to her like this, but he was at his wit's end. A candle burning to the final wax. He mentally fucked himself over when he got that stupid fucking call. Sir, your wife has informed us of an unidentified vehicle following her, it engraved itself into his mind. Tom remembers sitting at the desk, wondering if she was witnessing the same group, he had fucked over a few months ago. Deciding it could wait, Tom told them to keep his updated throughout the night. As if whatever god was up there decided to play a tortuous comedy routine with Tom, it did begin to progress. First, the car pulling up hours before his arrival. Then the major security breach and finally as they began shooting at his house, ready to slaughter anyone they found inside. Especially his family.

She watched his intently. Waiting for a further response and yet, nothing. Her anger was bubbling over. "I am an adult," she seethed at him, her fingers unwrapping themselves from the doorknob. "I make sure that my children are safe, I make it my life's mission to ensure that I am not the direct cause of those certain dangers I wish to keep them so far away from!"

She had ripped her hand from his grasp, this wasn't something she was backing away from. It was something she could fight and to which she intended to do until the very end.

The little monologue broke Tom's heart. How could she believe that he would do such a horrific thing? How could she blame him for the events that unfolded tonight? He wondered if she truly knew this was never his intention. That he never wanted his family to come under direct attack all because he made one dangerous decision.

“You don’t talk to me like that y/n,” He grumbled. The air seemed to thicken with every word, cause more distance between the spouses. It was never like this they fought like a normal couple but never with this much venom. “I don’t deserve such criticism, especially from you.”

“Why?” she pondered, she moved closer to him. Inching closer with every second. “Is it because you question my authority? Or maybe is it because I am some silly little schoolteacher who got trouble with the wrong kind of people," she moved closer with every word of the sentence, pushing her dangerously closer. It’s a risk she must take if she wants to feel any sort of release.

“Stop being so theatrical y/n, you endured something horrible, but that is what you signed up for when you married me,” the room climbed in temperature. Tom had half a mind to strip himself just to get closer to peace, but with y/n so close to his chest, he preferred to work on her. Tom can’t pinpoint what made his mind switch in directions. Maybe it was the ever-growing heat, or perhaps it was the indescribable feeling of almost losing your wife and mother of your children. Either way, Tom thoughts were growing darker. The need to bruise y/n’s skin seemed to be the only thing he could really think about. “You wanted this,” he grunted, closing in on her. “Sweetness, you agreed to this lifestyle as soon as you sunk your sweet cunt onto me.”

The vulgarity of his words caught her off guard. Her breath stopped halfway when her back almost slammed into the wall. She wasn’t giving in so easily, even if the heat from her body had swiftly travelled to the valley between her thighs. y/n turned her head away from him in any desperation to not look at him. Unfortunately, Tom caught her actions as if he knew her every move. His fingers pressed against her chin to bring her eyes back to him. Tom was worried for an instant that she would truly be too furious with him to play into his game. Luckily, her eyes betrayed her. The big doe eyes of her stared up at him, pleaded to be fucked like an animal. Slammed into until all of her rage had slipped from her conscious.

“Screw yourself Tom,” she coughed out. She was playing along, y/n knew exactly where this was heading. A tender kiss was placed upon her lips, while the action itself was soft, nothing about the kiss genuinely was. It was the ultimate puzzle piece for him.

"You want to speak to me like a bitch," Tom chuckled, "you'll get fucked like a bitch." He kicked the back of her knees harshly, causing her to meet with the floor. "On your knees and hands behind your back." She wanted to protest, she wanted to act out the little brat but like most things, her arms instinctively pulled themselves behind her. "Now, I sincerely hope I don't have to punish you further sweetness," Tom soothed as he swiftly undid the buckle of his jeans, discarding the items of clothing across the room. His throbbing cock hit the base of his stomach with a soft slap. y/n bit her lip in instinct, it had been a while, and did she wholly miss this glorious scene in front of her.

y/n leaned forward and dragged her tongue from the base of him until her lips met with the beads of pre-cum drenching him. Slowly but surely, she wrapped her lips around him. Letting him enjoy the wet cavern of her mouth for a short time. He threw his head back in unison with a beautifully quiet moan. Her eyes never left him, as she bobbed her head gradually. If she was on her knees unable to reach out and touch him, she would at least make it fun for her. y/n only quickened her pace if their line of focus connected. As soon as Tom stared directly into her eyes, she would start her movements but if he turned away to enjoy the moment, everything would stop. It went like this before Tom had quite enough of it all. Without uttering a single word, Tom wrangle his hands into her soft hair and thrusted right up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat roughly. She gagged loudly, making an awful sound as she attempted to regain her position. He pulled away from her, only to slam right back into her mouth. Unlike her plan beforehand, as he face fucked her, his pace begins to speed up.

y/n was now struggling to hold back her ragged gags as small tears slid out of her eyes. "Pretty girl, all worked out from my cock in your mouth huh?" Tom teased as he relished in the sounds of her cacophony of broken breaths. Just as quickly as he began, he pulled away from her complete. He dropped out of her mouth with a small pop and a trail of saliva that landed on the tops of her breasts. "Get up," to which she happily obliged. As soon as y/n had regained her footing, Tom's hands had completely destroyed her pants. The loose skirt was now in two pieces at her feet, along with her favourite pair of panties. Unfortunately, she didn't even get a second to scold him before he spun her around and slammed her chest against the wall. The pain excited her, it coursed through her torso and down into her legs, causing them to spasm slightly.

Tom looked at her, in the soft moonlight she was glowing. Ass facing him, tits pressed up against the wall. Complete ready for him. Tom gave her a small kiss on her shoulder, this time it truly was meant to be tender but in typical Tom fashion. As soon as his lips left her skin, Tom plunged right up into her. His hand covering her surprised squeal. God did he miss this. Filling her tight pussy right up to the brim. Even after everything they had been through, she still fit him like a glove. Hugged him so perfectly, Tom was worried he was shot his load right into her at this very moment. Sadly, he pushed the thought away and began rocking into her; his hand still covered over her mouth.

y/n could feel every inch of his like this. She could feel just how hard he was ramming into her cunt. Her nails gripped onto the wall in front of her as she whimpered into the palm of his hand. With every snap of his hips, her worries seemed to really melt away. All the tension built up in her body being oiled as he parted her legs to reach a nook in her that she thought impossible. “Tommy, f—fuck, oh my god,” it was incoherent garble. Nonsense talk as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few seconds. His head found the valley of her neck, peppering light kisses a major difference to the rough pace he had adopted.

“What is it sweetness,” Tom gasped right into her ear. The hot air tickling her skin. His other hand gripped callously at her hip, bruising the delicate skin under his fingers. “Come on tell me,” Tom was struggling to keep himself in check. The pure sound of skin against skin as he fucked her ass filled the air, pushing him closer to ecstasy. His hand pulled away from her lips, an immediately low moan tumbled from her lips. y/n waited for her body to response to anything, everything thrown out the window every time his dick hit her perfect spot inside of her.

“Har—harder,” she strained through strings of vulgarities and chants of his name. Tom smirked at her, she caught it before he pulled away from her. Tom started to slow his movements, observing how she swallowed him whole every time he thrusted into her tight hole.

“You really want it harder sweetness?” Tom asked, he was just as desperate for a release as she was. y/n nodded her head furiously, words seeming to fail her at this instance. “Turn around,” he ordered, she swivelled around to face him. Her once neat hair now a mess of pleasure tugged strains. Her lids fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed. She looked like a Greek statue. Tom bent and lifted her over his shoulders, earning a tiny giggle from his huffing wife above him. He frantically sprinted over to their bed and promptly chucked her on it. The force knocking a bit of wind out of her.

In a flash of actions, her face had been pressing into the mattress and her ass high up in air. Tom gave it a light smack before lining up and pounding right into her. Both of them let out a soft line of curses. It had never been this intense in their entire relationship.

The room was silent. Nothing could be heard outside but inside was a different idea. Tom brought her hips down roughly onto him, matching his tattered speed. y/n’s breaths were muffled by the cover of the blanks, her hands desperate for anything to latch onto for support as he fucks her relentlessly. It a beautiful mixture of sounds. Nothing like the soft breaths and gasps on a normal night. While those still as amazing as now, this was pure unfiltered animalistic need. No feelings, just a fantastic way to blow off incredible tense steam. Tom usually adored staring at her as her face scrunched up in pleasure but something about how every time his cock rammed up into her, everything moved with his thrusts. It was memorising, as if a painting had been brought to life. y/n had lost track of time during this, so focused on the way he was able to stretch her so wide that she had completely forgot how long she had been lying here. She didn’t dwell on it for too long before the divine familiar feeling presented itself to her, dwelling at the pit of her stomach.

“Go faster, I’m going t—to come,” she pleaded, lifting her head up for only a moment before diving right back into her muffled screams. Tom growled at this, picking up his already forceful speed. While he tried, his thrusts became sloppy and jagged.

“Come with me sweetness,” he whispered to her, his fingered rubbing cathartic circles on her sensitive clit. The sensation on her bud rupturing another last piece of sanity in her body.

With a final thrust, both y/n and Tom came. A relief as both almost shouted out in absolute ecstasy, their juices mixing together in a beautiful sense of the terms. y/n’s toes curled as she felt it all, every little piece of tension, anger and lust all combine and explode inside of her. Tom wasn’t even the slightest but worried as he had been before this had begun. His sweaty forehead lay against her spine, as his wife attempted to catch her breath. Slowly he pulled out of her, his cum leaking out of her. A sight he would love to have burned into his vision for the rest of his life.

“Feel better?” Tom asked her as he threw himself next to her. y/n turned to face him and for the first time that night an honest grin appeared on her face. A grin given to her by whatever relief she had received moments before.

“Much,” she replied.

━━★✼☆｡

955 notes · View notes

em-writes-imagines · 4 years

Text

study group: a social media au where you work at iroh’s boba tea shop with zuko, try to keep up with your college courses, and stir up an irresponsible amount of chaos with the gaang

prev. / part three / next

((author’s note: this update is a little bit different; instead of just screenshots, i’ve written out a scene for this one! hope you guys like it!!))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“HEYYYY THE PARTY’S FINALLY ARRIVED,” Sokka shouts the second you walk through the door, Zuko trailing behind.

“High schoolers are the worst,” Zuko grumbles under his breath, and you toss your bag to the floor with an exasperated sigh.

“But,” you force a smile, “we’re here now! What’s the plan for the night?”

“Wellll, I figured we’d start out with a good ol’ fashioned game of King’s Cup, if everyone’s down?” Sokka asks the group.

“Oh HELL yeah,” Toph runs off to the kitchen to start preparing drinks, and Katara calls after her,

“Don’t make mine too strong!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how you like it, sugar queen.”

“Wait, is that Sonic?” you ask, watching the screen for a moment. With the amount of colors swirling around the screen and Jim Carrey playing Robotnik, you find yourself almost entranced by the wild image.

“Yeah! But, I guess now that you’re here, we should turn it off.” You can hear the pout in Aang’s voice as he speaks, and laugh before joining him on the couch.

“Nah, we can let it play a bit longer! This scene looks pretty climactic anywa— holy shit, did they just blow up the pyramid?’

“Oh, yeah, there’s this whole thing where Robotnik got one of Sonic’s quills, which apparently are capable of “infinite” power, whatever that means, and now he’s as fast as Sonic— oh! And they use rings to teleport to different places! That’s why they were in Egypt, Sonic was going to all the different landmarks he could remember to try and shake off Robotnik—”

“Aang, shh,” Sokka covers the younger boy’s mouth as one of the characters begins monologuing.

Zuko sits on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against the space between you and Aang. “That is… a lot.” His tone is a mixture of confusion and what sounds like a headache, causing you to laugh.

“Jeeze, Zuko, you don’t know about the deep Sonic lore??”

“I said, shush!!!”

“Yeah, jeeze (y/n),” Zuko mimics you, barely holding back a laugh, “don’t get in the way of Sokka and his one true love, Sonic the hedgehog.”

“Will you guys PLEASE keep it down??”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are the worst King’s Cup partner,” Zuko groans before taking another drink alongside you. “You have to keep your hand on the table.”

“I know, I know, it’s just— Katara made that rule eight rounds ago, that’s such a long time…” You draw the next card, laughing as you slap down a jack. “Aha! My rule is that Katara’s rule is GONE, no more hands on the table.”

The entire group lets out a sigh of relief, including Katara.

“Man, that rule SUCKED,” Sokka shouts, resulting in a shove from his sister.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you guys are dumb enough to keep falling it for it!”

While they continue to bicker, Aang shouts, “Seven!”

The rest of you point to the ceiling immediately, staring at the two siblings until Katara finally notices and raises her hand as well.

“No fair! Katara distracted me!”

“Rules are rules, Sokka,” Toph says, pointing at him with a laugh. “Now drink up!”

After finishing off the last of his drink, Sokka stands up, losing his balance for a few moments before righting himself.

“Where are you going?” Katara asks. “We’re in the middle of a game!”

“I need to find Appa!!!” he shouts as if it’s his life’s mission, sprinting off to Aang’s room, only to stop in the middle of the hallway. “…running...bad idea…”

“You know, for such a tough guy, he sure is a lightweight,” Zuko laughs, taking another drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you wake up the next morning, you’re surprised to find you don’t have much of a headache. While you definitely remember most of the night, you know you overindulged yourself, making the memories a bit jumbled…

“Come on, you’ll thank me in the morning,” Zuko holds the bottle of water in front of you. “At least drink half of it.”

“But I wanna go to sleep…” you curl up around yourself in the recliner, covering your face to block out both the light and Zuko.

“I know,” he laughs under his breath, pulling your hand away from your face and placing the bottle in it. “Just drink this first, and then you can sleep in as late as you want.”

You groan, but sit up nonetheless. “What are you being so nice for?”

“Hungover (y/n) is no fun.” He walks away once he’s sure you’ll finish the water, lying across the couch. “Besides, we have a shift tomorrow afternoon, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t complain the whole time.”

“Like you don’t complain about every customer.”

“Is it complaining if we both agree?”

“…points were made. Those fucking kids that came in at close oh my GOD I was about to lose my mind.”

“And yet you still put on that customer service smile— ‘Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! How can I help you today?’”

His impression makes you burst out laughing, “That is not what I sound like!”

He continues, “‘I totally care how your stupid day is going! Please, tell me all about your kid and your cat and your shitty job!’”

“I’m trying to get tips, Mr. ‘Look At Me Wrong and I’ll Grab That Decorative Sword Off The Wall and Fight You.’”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you’ve never wanted to do that? Not once?”

“…okay, honestly, it would be kind of badass to just flip over the counter like, ‘hyah!’” You swing your hand around lazily, pantomiming the sword toward Zuko.

“With that form?” he laughs. “Nothing badass about that.”

You let out a yawn before replying, “Yeah, like you know— wait… you do know all that stuff, huh.”

“Go to sleep, (y/n).”

Maybe it’s because you’re about to pass out, but you swear you can hear a smile in his voice.

Oh. So that’s what happened.

You immediately sit up and look over to the couch, blush rising to your cheeks. Thankfully, Zuko is still asleep, one arm resting across his face while the other dangles off the side of the couch. He looks…

“Morning!” Katara calls out from the kitchen, thankfully cutting off your train of thought. “I’m making eggs, do you want some?”

The rumble of your stomach is answer enough, and you laugh as you reply, “Definitely!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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499 notes · View notes

hurricanery · 3 years

Text

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part 2 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU- interns fic). Thank u thank u thank u for the nice messages about the first chapter, your messages and replies seriously warm my lil heart. I’m still basically planting seeds for some future plot points here, but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

You can read part 1 here.

_______

And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up

And I still don't wanna stagger home

Then it's the memory of our betters

That are keeping us on our feet

_______

Everything’s different when the sun comes up. It all comes to light in a different way. The sun rises, and reality settles in. Like sleep is some magic reset button. And all of the thoughts and decisions, all of the fun, all of the mischief, it all seems worlds away. Like that was then, and this is now.

A funny thing happens though, when that reset button gets skipped. When there is no sleep, and no separation of night and day. When you stay awake for 24 hours straight and you watch the sun come up in real time; you watch the sun rise twice in fact, and there isn’t that detachment. It all flows together like a never-ending moment.

It’s strange, Amelia thinks, to have no reset button. To sacrifice the idea of choosing sleep. Because instead of calling it quits after two sunrises, she finds herself in a bar, of all places, sitting across from the people she’d met just 24 hours ago.

“I’m sooo happy you’re moving in with me,” Maggie yawns hugely next to her. And Amelia bites down on a smile at the confession; at what no sleep and a slim two beers has done to this previously panic-stricken intern. The intern that was currently dealing with the impact of being related to a Grey.

Except the panic isn’t worth it. Because there isn’t any fallout. Lexie practically laughs until she cries, when it all comes to light. When Maggie finally lets it slip about who her birth mother is. Between the delirious fits of laughter, all Lexie can manage is a “good luck telling Meredith that.”

And it only gets more chaotic.

There’s no reset for all of the sleep-deprived decisions. Lexie and Jo, in an impressive and almost falsely confident manner, venture off towards the bar, where a handful of residents and attendings claim territory. The rest of the newly formed crew stick together, in their quiet corner of the bar.

Amelia can feel Link’s eyes on her from across the booth as she brings a warm mug of tea to her lips. But her eyes remain glued down, staring down at the crumpled tea packet on the table. One of those cheap brands. Cheap because it’s a rare request in a place like this. The kind of drink that ends up taking longer for the bartender to make. More time-consuming to prepare than one of those fancy cocktails even, because it ends up that the bartender has to go search in the stock room for a tea bag in the first place.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a strong hand occupies her line of vision. It’s jolting, to say the least. For her focus to be intruded on like that. The tea packet she’d been so comfortably resting her eyes on, now suddenly consumed by Link’s grasp. He covers it completely, picking it up and further crumpling it in his fist before dropping it back down on the table.

The action forces Amelia to look at him. Which is probably his intention, anyway. So she does, and it’s equally as jolting. His expression. Because she’s half expecting it to mirror the harshness of a crumpled tea packet. But it doesn’t. It’s warm. And it’s soft. And it’s slightly curious.

“You should all move in with me.” Maggie’s voice chimes in.

And Amelia rips her gaze away from Link’s.

“Okay, slow down there,” she lets out an amused exhalation. “You were barely on board with the idea of me moving in.”

Winston playfully nudges Maggie’s side, from where he’s seated on the other side of her. And Amelia doesn’t miss the way his hand settles just above Maggie’s knee. The interaction stands out to her, and she decides she’s going to bookmark it for later. Revisit it perhaps when everyone’s feeling more awake and alert.

“Who should all move where?” Lexie slides into the booth next to Link, eyes wide with naivety as she sips a full drink.

“My apartment,” Maggie responds matter-of-factly. “I have one more room open.”

Amelia scrunches her nose at this, and she staggers through her confusion. “Wait. Just one more? What happened, I thought-”

“Well, I already promised a room to Link….” Maggie’s voice is laced with exhaustion and something else, as she turns to explain to Amelia. “When you were in the bathroom….I told him, I-” She hiccups slightly, abandoning her sentence. And Amelia tilts her head to the side quizzically. “Anyway,” Maggie gestures across the booth towards Link. “Meet your new roommate.”

Amelia’s gaze returns to Link, and he shrugs somewhat defensively, muttering under his breath, “Sorry.”

But Amelia doesn’t feel sorry. She feels something else. The notion rises in her chest, and she wants to label it as anticipation.

“Okay, but I have to get out of Meredith’s house!” Lexie slams her drink down on the table. “I’m living with a bunch of residents.”

There’s unanimous murmurs of condolence from the group.

“Oh! Speaking of….” She continues, picking her drink back up and nodding towards the bar. “The plastics attending….Mark Sloan? Just bought me this drink.”

“Ugh,” Amelia’s quick to counter. “Do not go there.”

All heads turn to her, and she feels heat rise in her face as she takes in the curious stares. When she doesn’t follow up on her previous precaution, Lexie speaks up again.

“....Have you?” Lexie swallows, a disconcerted expression on her face. “Gone there?”

Amelia doesn’t miss the way Link surveys her expression, following this particular question. She clears her throat, eyes shifting back to the crumpled tea packet.

“No, no. God no.” Her tone is low as she shakes her head dismissively. “I’ve just….known him my whole life.”

“Oh,” Lexie shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. And Amelia quickly surveys any other reactions to her response.

A general quietness falls across the table and Amelia’s eyes eventually settle back to the tea packet. She can’t quite determine why it seems to be the focal point of her evening. Or morning. Or whatever this was. She wants to claim it’s the vivid yellow packaging that keeps catching her eye.

But, her thoughts are intruded once again when Link suddenly stands up from the table. She peers up at him intently.

“Shepherd,” his tone is gentle as he starts moving away from the table. “I think I promised you a game of darts.”

Amelia blinks. Partly in confusion. But also mostly against her sudden bout of exhaustion.

“I, uh,” she mutters, turning around in her seat as she watches Link make his way around the booth.

“Come on.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

And she bites the inside of her cheek, turning around to set her mug down.

“Okay, okay,” she’s not yet facing him when she stands from the booth. “One game and then I’m out of here.” She looks pointedly at Maggie as she exits the booth. “And I can drive anyone home that needs a ride.”

Maggie offers her a toothy grin, and Winston nods in grateful agreement at the offer. Amelia steps away from the table, and tries not to mirror the smug look on Link’s face.

“One game,” she repeats.

And he chuckles a bit, proudly.

“I don’t know….” he lets her lead them across the bar, towards the wall that’s filled with dart boards and other bar games. “You’ll probably want a rematch….when I beat you the first time around.”

Amelia feigns shock at his words. But really, somewhere deep down, she’s suppressing her gratification. Because he’s feeding into her competitive side completely.

“We’ll see,” she says, as she collects the darts and starts separating them.

She hands Link his portion of the game’s pieces and he mimics her words back to her. “We’ll see.”

_______

It ends up that uninhibited decisions turn into concrete plans. Link and Lexie move into the apartment. And Amelia adheres to her pride that she was the first choice in the matter, and that everyone else just happened to follow suit.

She wakes up in the new apartment on this particular morning, and it takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She groggily registers that the unfamiliar space around her is, indeed, her own bedroom.

Her alarm blares again loudly, after it’s been snoozed repeatedly for the last 15 minutes, and she aggressively shuts it off. Sitting up in bed, she throws on a cardigan before shuffling out of her room and down the hall, towards the shared space of the apartment.

“Gooood morning,” Maggie practically sings, her voice an irritating level of cheerful for the early hour.

As Amelia rounds the corner into the small kitchen area, her tired eyes settle on Maggie, where she occupies one of the stools at the counter. All she can manage to mutter is a slight “mhm,” in acknowledgement of the greeting.

She reaches into the cupboard for a mug, before filling it from the coffee pot that’s already been prepared. Once her mug is full of the steaming liquid, she turns back around to face Maggie. She leans against the counter as she brings the cup up to her nose, inhaling the scent and closing her eyes in gratitude.

The sound of Maggie’s bedroom door creaking open eventually shakes her from her blissful moment, and then her expression quickly turns to one of shocked amusement. Because her eyes settle on Winston, as he exits the bedroom and enters into the main room. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before, and Amelia looks him up and down, biting her lip in excitement, like she’s just remembered where she’s hidden the last piece of a puzzle.

“Ha,” Amelia’s delighted revelation sounds gravelly, the sleep still evident in her voice. “You don’t live here.”

She shifts her gaze to Maggie, who offers a pleading look in return. And then she looks back to Winston, who has since halted in the doorway. She can’t hold back the raspy sounding chuckle that escapes her lips. “I get it. You guys are sex friends. It all makes sense now.”

Winston scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. And Maggie blinks, dumfounded. She stands suddenly, stepping away from the kitchen counter, like she’s desperate to remove herself from this situation.

“I’m gonna go shower. Don’t want to be late,” Maggie mutters.

Amelia just smiles further, eyes shifting playfully between the two, before she turns to walk back to her room. She raises her coffee mug slightly above her as she walks away, like she’s motioning a ‘cheers’ to the air. She tilts her head back once more in their direction, before she disappears from the kitchen, and sarcastically repeats Maggie’s greeting from before. “It is a good morning.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but follows after her through the hallway, turning into the bathroom.

“Let me know when you’re done!” Amelia announces when she reaches her room. “I want dibs on the shower next!”

_______

Amelia finishes her coffee, and as she sets her empty mug in the sink, her impatience steadily rises.

“Maggie!” She yells, as she returns to the hallway. “You’re gonna make us late!”

There’s no response, but she hears that the shower is still on, and she even hears music coming from the bathroom. She finds the music choice odd for Maggie, and also finds it odd that Maggie is even the type of person that listens to music while she showers.

“Maggie,” she tries one more time, knocking her fist against the door.

There’s no answer.

She sighs, glancing at her watch. And then she decides to push the door open slightly, stepping into the small bathroom. “Maggie are you almost done?! I’m just going to brush my teeth real quick while you’re in there,” she announces loudly, over the music, as she reaches for her toothbrush on the sink.

“Um, not Maggie.” A surprisingly deep voice sounds from the other side of the curtain as she starts brushing her teeth.

And oh, that’s Link. “Shit, sorry! I thought you were Maggie! Wow, I just barged right in-”

“It’s fine” he interrupts, and then Amelia hears the water get shut off. “Could you, uh, actually hand me a towel though?” A dripping wet hand shoots out from behind the shower curtain and Amelia just stares at it, her toothbrush falling slack between her lips.

“Hello….? Towel?”

“Uh, right. Here.” She mutters around her toothbrush.

Blinking from her daze, she slowly reaches for a towel and hands it to him. And then suddenly the curtain is sliding open and Link is climbing out of the shower, towel around his waist, in all of his soaking wet glory. And holy shit, Amelia thinks, as she not so subtly darts her eyes around the tight space. Attempting to look anywhere but at him. She settles on turning around, and facing herself in the mirror as she makes quick movements of brushing her teeth.

She doesn’t know where the sudden panic comes from. She’s a confident person. Never timid. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she retaliates against the idea that she’s lost any of her game. Or that she’s the one creating any awkward tension.

Link enters her line of vision through the bathroom mirror, and she feels frozen where she stands. Because, for some reason, he starts inching even closer.

He clears his throat.

“Just need to, uh, grab something…”

She practically jumps out of the way as Link reaches around her for the medicine cabinet.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll get out of your way,” she exhales a sheepish laugh at her own reaction, and tries not to cringe at the way she sounds with her mouth still full of toothpaste.

Link finally moves to exit the bathroom, and Amelia wants to sigh in relief, as she resumes her position in front of the sink. But she doesn’t. She holds back. And from her peripheral, she can see him pause in the doorway.

She turns her head in his direction. And he smirks at her before he leaves.

“Shower is all yours.”

The bathroom door clicks shut and Amelia spits harshly into the sink.

_______

Carpooling is apparently a thing they do now. They arrive at the hospital, and everyone piles out of Maggie’s car, beginning to cross the parking lot.

“Hey!” Jo’s breathless voice sounds from somewhere behind them as she locks up her own car and jogs to catch up with the group. She steps into pace with them, walking next to Link. “Whose service are you guys on today?”

“Neuro. With Shepherd,” Winston responds.

“Same here!” Lexie actually sounds excited.

“Okay, but why are we all on Shepherd’s service?” Jo mutters.

Everyone turns towards Amelia, as if she knows the reasoning behind her brother’s request. She just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Someone a little let down that they aren’t with Karev today?” Link nudges Jo playfully, and Jo feigns shock at the accusation, swatting at his shoulder.

As they enter the hospital, Amelia slows a bit behind the group, letting everyone else venture off ahead of her.

“Not excited about neuro?” She hadn’t realized Link had slowed down with her. “Not exactly my first pick either, but-”

“No, no,” she cuts in. “That’s not it.”

Link just stares at her for a moment, and Amelia almost feels scrutinized by it.

“Oh,” he continues. “Not excited about your brother, then?”

Amelia sighs, questioning to herself when they started getting so personal with each other. And then she cringes at the direction of her thoughts. Because maybe the getting too personal thing had started this morning, following the shower incident.

“That’s not exactly it, either.”

“Not exactly?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, what’s with-”

“Amy Shepherd?!”

Both Link and Amelia turn around, following the voice that’s interrupted their conversation.

Mark Sloan is walking towards them full force, a huge grin on his face.

“Mark?!”

“Amy?!”

“....Amy?” Link mutters under his breath, chuckling at the nickname. And Amelia glances sideways at him in warning.

“The only person that still calls me that is Derek,” she raises her eyebrows at Mark, matching his grin.

“Well, Derek didn’t mention you were in town,” He finally approaches, and Amelia pulls him into a tight hug. They pull apart and Mark looks her up and down. “You look….different than the last time I saw you.”

“You look different, too,” she smirks.

Link looks between the pair curiously.

“And I’m not just in town,” Amelia adds as she steps out his embrace. “I work here now.”

“You work here?! Why didn’t Derek say anything…” Mark gets momentarily distracted by something, or somebody behind them. “Derek!” he yells. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister works here now?!”

Derek approaches, his demeanor reflecting his overall impatience. He completely disregards Mark’s question.

“Why do you people not answer your pages?”

“....And this conversation’s no longer entertaining. Catch up later?” Mark glances at Amelia a final time before stepping away. Then Derek turns towards his sister expectantly.

“When I requested you all on my service today, I expected punctuality.” He raises his eyebrows, and when Amelia offers no response, he continues. “I have a patient being admitted today. She’s had a sudden onset of seizures. We don’t know the cause. But we need to figure out the cause.”

There’s slight hesitation at his instructions.

“Okay, you! Dr….” his eyes shift down to glance over Link’s ID badge. “Dr. Lincoln. I want you to grab the rest of the interns and head to the library. Starting now, you all are in charge of research. Anything, I mean anything, you can find on this. Case studies, research papers, all of it. Just….find something for me.”

Link nods respectively, and he begins to turn towards Amelia.

“And Amy,” Derek’s eyes settle on hers, in an almost disdainful way. “You’re with the patient.”

Amelia is stunned for a moment, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“You want me to do what, exactly?” She steps forward towards Derek, who mutters under his breath in frustration. “Babysit your aneurysm? Because my time is worth way more than-”

“An aneurysm, is the last thing this is-”

“And what makes you so sure of that?!” She looks between his eyes incredulously.

“You think this woman’s just been walking around with a ruptured aneurysm-”

“I didn’t say ruptured-”

“Well if it’s not ruptured, she’d likely not have any symptoms at all, so your logic makes absolutely no sense.” Derek raises his eyebrows, like he’s won the argument.

“I’m just saying! I did a research paper on this. Similar case. Sudden onset of seizures. No prior history. But, this woman fell and-”

“I never said my patient had a fall.”

“Well did you ask her that?”

“Amy,” Derek breathes, exasperated. He tries to move around her, completely done with the conversation.

But she blocks his movements. And he gives her a blank stare. While Link stands off to the side, looking between the two uncomfortably.

“Derek.” She retorts, the frustration in her tone highly evident.

“Take my patient to CT. And then stay with her, while she gets transported to a room. You can manage that, right?”

Amelia bites her tongue, nodding numbly. She refrains from voicing everything she wants to say, and she tries to fight off the emotions that arise as Derek steps around her. She feels defeated. And small. Which was typical lately, following any interaction with her older brother. She curses herself for thinking it would be any different, now that she was here under specific circumstances. Professional circumstances. Hand picked for this surgical internship out of a large pool of equally impressive applicants. But it’s not different. If anything, it’s even more demoralizing, to be met with this discouragement both personally, and now professionally.

Derek steps away and she’s left standing there with Link.

“Your brother is….kind of a jerk.”

Amelia rolls her eyes, pushing past Link.

“Shepherd, wait-”

She ignores the way he calls after her, and she keeps walking. Because she has a patient now. A patient who needs a head CT.

_______

Link finds her about a half hour later. She’s walking from CT with a stack of scans in her arms. She nods a greeting at Link as begins walking with her.

“Hey! So, we've all been in the research library, could probably use your help-”

“I was right,” she says simply, shaking her head. “It’s an aneurysm. It’s tiny, but it’s there.”

Link doesn’t hold back his surprise. “Wow, how’d you-”

He’s cut off again when Amelia turns to him, forcing the scans over into his hands.

“What are you-”

“Make sure Derek gets these.”

“....You don’t want to hand them over yourself?” Link objects, trying to give them back to her. “Tell him you were right?”

“Nah,” she breathes, turning away from him. “I want off his service.”

Link comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, watching her continue in the opposite direction. She turns around, facing him once more before she’s off again.

“Just please, hurry. He needs to see those now.”

_______

Several hours later, after her shift has ended, all Amelia wants is a peaceful evening. The first thing that comes to mind for her, when seeking this, is chamomile tea.

After changing into her sweats, which includes her favorite Harvard sweatshirt, she wanders down the hall to the kitchen to begin her evening routine.

The kitchen is dark, so she flips on one of the dim lights before she starts rummaging through the cupboards. To her left, from the balcony attached to the small kitchen, she can hear the sound of Jo’s exuberant laughter, mixed in with a couple of other voices.

A moment later, the sliding glass door is opening and Link is stepping inside. He slightly grimaces at the difference in volume to the quiet kitchen, as the voices outside get cut off with the door sliding shut again.

“Oh, hey,” he mutters, as he sets an empty beer bottle on the counter. “Didn’t know you were up. Are we being too loud?”

Amelia shakes her head, her focus still on her tea set-up.

She knows she’s being standoffish, and probably to Link’s notice, too.

“Weird day, huh?”

Amelia shrugs. And then realizes she has yet to say anything out loud here.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You seem like someone….that would want to talk about it, no?”

Amelia smirks at this revelation.

“It’s a long story,” she murmurs, listening to the water in the electric kettle start to boil, and then the comforting sound gets interrupted by Jo’s laughter from outside. “Shouldn’t you get back out there, anyway?”

“Sounds like Lexie’s keeping her entertained.”

Amelia leans her back against the counter, peering across the kitchen at him.

“Derek….he’s not a jerk,” Amelia says simply. “I know it seemed that way earlier. But really, there’s more to it.”

Link shrugs, moving to lean against the opposite counter.

“It just seemed like he wasn’t taking you seriously. When you happened to be right, so. Maybe he should have.”

Amelia nods to herself.

“Do you have siblings?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Only child.”

Amelia grins. Something about this piece of information makes sense to her.

“I think sometimes it’s hard to....I don’t know,” she trails off momentarily. “Take the baby of the family seriously?”

It’s probably obvious to Link that there’s more to it. Reasonings that she’s conveniently leaving out. But he nods along with her explanation anyway.

“Anyway, I don’t want you to go on thinking my brother is some bad guy….” she mutters as she turns around to face the kettle again. “Because he’s not, he’s….one of my favorite people, actually, so.”

Link watches as Amelia starts drumming her fingers against the countertop, her eyes glued to the tea kettle.

He steps towards the fridge, because he’d originally come inside to grab another beer.

The kettle clicks off and Amelia’s fingers against the counter come to rest. She places a tea bag into her mug and pours some of the boiling water over it. She turns around just in time to see Link shut the fridge door, empty-handed.

“Aren’t you heading back out there?”

“Yeah, I just….” he gestures towards the kettle. “That looks pretty good, actually. Is there any left over?”

Amelia holds back her surprise, but quickly nods. She reaches over for another tea bag and hands it over to him.

“Knock yourself out.”

She watches Link hesitate, turning the packet over in his palms.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she grins. “Just use the water from the kettle.”

Link nods, reaching for a mug.

“I’m going to bed. Think you can handle it?” Amelia gestures towards the mug in his hands.

And Link rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ve got it. Is it that obvious that I’m not really a tea guy?”

Amelia bites her lip, and shrugs, turning on her heels and back towards her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Amy.” She can hear Link snicker from the kitchen. And the use of the nickname causes Amelia to halt in her tracks. She slowly rounds the corner back into the kitchen.

“Don’t even.” Her voice is tight with astonishment. “Do you want me to start referring to you as Atticus? Because I will.”

The threat causes Link to falter only a little. And then he grins.

“Try again,” she mutters.

“Okay,” he’s laughing now. “Goodnight, Amelia.”

She thinks it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. Or called her by her first name at all. She’s been so used to hearing him refer to her as ‘Shepherd,’ that the sound of her first name falling from his lips actually stirs something inside her. She convinces herself that that’s it. That’s the reason it stuns her a little. It’s simply because she’s not used to it. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that she enjoys the way it sounds.

She can’t help the smirk that crosses her face, as she repeats his sentiment. She turns back towards the hallway, an amused edge to her voice.

“Goodnight, Link.”

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Paths, Avenues, and Secret Tunnels // S.B. (celebration fic)

Request: 6 & 13 from the fluff section with sirius black at hogwarts (location). 💛 - anon

Fluff 6: “Are you... Are you flirting with me?”

Fluff 13: “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

A/N: Here’s your request! I hope you like! This one got away from me if I'm honest but I struggled with it so much in the beginning that I'm happy I found my flow. I don’t think I’ll be posting a fic tomorrow, I’m not sure yet, I have a ridiculously busy day so who knows! However, as always, I hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of an attempted harassment, swearing, self-defence, shitty parents, BUT THIS IS FLUFF, I PROMISE (there’s even a make out scene for you all)

Word count: 3.3k

Most weekends at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry could usually be spent in the neighbouring, picturesque village of Hogsmeade. Students, in their droves, descended upon the wizarding village – all ready to spent their knuts, sickles and galleons on whatever took their fancy in the array of shops that neatly lined the small high street.

For many of the students in Third Year and above, they relished the chance to spend a whole day outside of Hogwarts. You would have liked to have gone with them, but in a fit of anger your mother and father flat out refused to sign the yearly permission slip meaning that your visits to the small, sleepy village had been put to a stop.

You maintained fiercely that their punishment was unjustified. Your use of magic outside of school was perfectly reasonable considering that the man they had tried to set their daughter up with for an arranged marriage was nothing short of a creep that had to be put in his place.

Your reaction to the unsolicited attention of the repulsive man caused nothing smaller than a war between your parents and yourself. They felt humiliated that you should act such a way in front of a respectable, eligible gentleman who had taken the time out of his busy schedule to come to dinner and meet with you. You felt nothing short of fury at your parents for thinking you would ever go along with archaic traditions that should have died long ago.

It led to your parents taking the one thing that you looked forward to every school year away from you. In front of you, they tore apart the permission slip and threw it onto the fire where you watched as it turned to grey ash.

Your weekends were now spent either in the common room or the library; working on your homework, studying for an exam or simply reading to pass the time. By the fourth Hogsmeade weekend of the year, you had explored the castle enough to attract Filch’s unwanted attention, so you decided to reign in your exploits to the parts of the castle you knew were safest.

The common room had quickly become your safe haven after the third time you were questioned by Filch. Both the morning and afternoon of any Hogsmeade weekend spent reading over any work and napping periodically by the fire.

Stretching out on the couch, you finish reading over your notes from Potions, making a mental note to ask Slughorn whether you could borrow his classroom next weekend to test a theory that had come to you only a few moments ago. Another Hogsmeade weekend and you had made doubly sure to keep yourself occupied through it all – happy to see your friends off; already sick of their pitying looks.

“(Y/L/N)!” Sirius shouts; jumping the back of the couch and settling next to you.

“Sirius, how can I help?” You ask with a smile; turning to face the teenager you’ve known since the two of you were in nappies.

“I can’t help but notice that you haven’t been seen in Hogsmeade for a while now. One can’t help but wonder…”

You laugh, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask me considering our parents are like this,” You cross your fingers together; indicating just how close the two families were – Sirius’ mother visiting yours for tea at least three times a week.

“What happened?”

You sigh, clutching your book to your chest, “My parents cruel and unusual form of punishment.”

“What?”

You smile at the memory, “I jinxed the guy they were trying to marry me off to, so they tore up the permission slip in front of me and threw it onto the fire in a fit of dramatics.”

“Why did you jinx him?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“What did he do?” Sirius asks; voice low and lethal.

You sigh, “His hands tried to wander under the dining table. They didn’t get very bloody far before he was met with the finger removing jinx,” You huff proudly, “See how far he gets without the counter-jinx, the prat.”

“But you’re okay? You weren’t hurt?”

You shake your head; smiling at the care in Sirius’ voice. “I’m fine, I promise,” You reassure, “However, my parents thought it fitting to tear up my permission slip to Hogsmeade hence why I stay in the castle every weekend.”

Something in Sirius’ chest loosens at your words; happy to know that you’re okay and that you gave the creep what he deserved but he frowns at your parents response. “Did you explain to your parents what he tried to do?”

You fix him with a look that tells him of course you did, “They refused to listen; not someone like him,” Your voice takes on a higher pitch as you mimic your mother, “He’s such a responsible man from a wonderful family – I don’t know how you could do this to him.”

Sirius snorts at your impression; noting how accurate it is. “I’m sorry,” He murmurs.

You wave his apology with a swift movement of your hand, “I’ve gotten used to it now. You wouldn’t believe how on top of homework I am.”

He laughs, “Still, all the same.”

“I know,” You whisper.

Sirius pats your knee; he gestures towards the door with his head where his friends had walked through only a moment ago, “I better…”

You nod, “Of course. Go! Go – have a nice time.”

Sirius throws a small smile your way before he leaves the common room.

For the first time in the five weekends you had been unable to visit the humble village; you had never hated your parents more.

-------

Sirius Black continues to play on your mind in a way he hasn’t done since your crush on him in Second Year when you were smaller and more naïve. The friendship between you was a lifelong one; families being so close that there was no other option but to get along as your mothers would drink tea and gossip and your fathers would conduct business in offices away from prying eyes and ears.

Your feelings for the elder Black sibling became news to you when you were turning ten years old. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to hold his hand longer and to hug him whenever instead of in greeting or in farewell – innocent daydreams of a child.

Nothing like the daydreams you now found yourself occupied with whenever you happened to find yourself staring at his mouth that little bit too long or when you zoned in on how his hands would run through his long hair and thought about what it would feel like between your fingers.

Your feelings for Sirius Black came surging back; knocking you breathless and leaving you feeling half way mad. He seemed to take over your mind; thinking of him constantly and not all the thoughts completely innocent. From a simple smile in your direction, he had you feeling like a fool in love. From the smallest piece of attention he could give you, he had your heart in your throat.

Soon enough, you were admitting to yourself that your crush from Second Year had returned stronger than before and that there was no doubt about it. You were arse over tea kettle in love with Sirius Black.

He starts to spend his Hogsmeade weekends with you. Starting slowly; leaving the Marauders every now and then before eventually stopping joining them altogether. They all share a similar look one Saturday when instead of joining them at the door to the common room, Sirius joins you in your familiar spot on the couch.

Sirius waves to James, Remus and Peter as they depart for Hogsmeade; each of them shouting promises of bringing back sweets from Honeyduke’s as well as a surprise from Zonko’s. Sirius shakes his head at his friends before turning his full attention to you.

You smile softly at the disowned heir to the Black family fortune; repressing the growing urge to run your fingers through his hair, to kiss him senseless – to do anything with him really.

“What are the plans for today then?”

You roll your eyes, “You don’t have to do this Sirius, you can go be with your friends.”

Sirius waves his hand in a dismissive fashion, tutting, “I see them all the time. I live with them remember?” He shakes his head, “I like spending time with you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your smile at bay, “I was thinking of finishing the book I’ve been reading.”

Sirius throws his head back with an overdramatic groan, “We did that last time!”

“And I’ve started a new book since then!” You sigh, “Like I said, Sirius, you don’t need to stay with me.”

“I want to spend time with you, but we don’t need to spend all our time here,” He says, gesturing to the dark red walls of the common room.

“I’m not bothered here. Every time I left the common room, Filch would always bother me.”

Sirius frowns, “Well we’re going out today,” He pats your leg, standing up, “Come on. Up you get, we’re off on a walk.”

“A walk?”

“A walk. An amble. A dawdle. That thing you do with your legs. Whatever you prefer to call it.”

You snort, “I know what a walk is, Sirius.”

“Then why ask?”

“Don’t make me regret coming with you.”

He grins at you, “Never, my dear.”

Sirius holds an arm out to you which you take; hooking your elbow through his. He sets off at a slow pace; holding the door to the common room open for you like the gentleman he was raised to be before leading you down the corridors.

With most students in Hogsmeade and the First and Second years occupied with a Quidditch training camp being run by the Holyhead Harpies, the corridors of the school are relatively quiet as you and Sirius continue your walk through the school that’s more of a second home rather than a place of education.

“Are your parents still angry?” Sirius asks out of the blue.

“I couldn’t care less though; it was self-defence and I’m happier for it. but you know them; there never was a couple who could hold a grudge like dear old mum and dad.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I reckon I could beat you.”

“How have you been since that night?”

Sirius looks off into the distance; mind immediately returning to the night he had walked out on his family, on Regulus. He had told you about when the school year had restarted after the Easter break.

“Good,” He eventually says, “I’m living with James’ family now. I’ve always been welcome at the Potters.”

You nod; happiness washing over you, “I’m glad you’ve found somewhere, I was worried when you sent me the one letter.”

“I wanted to send more,” He says, voice pained, “But I didn’t know if your parents would be nosy.”

“You were right not to,” You sigh, “Since they heard about our friendship rekindling, they keep looking at me as if I’m going to run any moment.”

“Would you?”

“Would I run away?”

He nods; pausing in his steps. You stop alongside him; thinking over your answer, “It depends. If I have to sit through another arranged dinner and possible marriage, then happily. If my parents suddenly see reason, then perhaps our relationship could improve.”

“How long have they been trying to marry you off?”

“Since I turned seventeen so just over a year since my birthday is one of the first of the year.”

Sirius chuckles humourlessly, “I’m glad I got out when I could.”

You nudge his shoulder, “All it means is that your life has taken a different path, Sirius. But I know whatever you decide to do, it will be the right path. It’s you walking it after all; it can’t be bad if you’re the one walking it.”

Sirius doesn’t reply to your words. He’s too overcome by your words to even think of replying. Out of the fallout from his family, the one thing he was concerned about was how it would affect your relationship with you but when he saw you after Easter and all you did was pull him into a tight hug, he knew that everything would be okay and that you would be going nowhere.

He doesn’t need to say the words out loud to accept them; he knows that he has fallen in love with you. Sirius realises with a jolt that he has most likely always loved you; only coming to the realisation since spending more and more time with you over your parental imposed school grounding.

Sirius doesn’t know what path his life is going to take; he has the Marauders and he knows he has them for life – very little coming between them to split them permanently. But through it all; through all of his late night worrying and upset, Sirius hopes and hopes that your life starts to wander down the same path as his.

By this time, you’ve circled the courtyard, ready to make your way to Hagrid’s Hut and beyond. Both happy enough to now spend the rest of your day dawdling around the castle; talking everything and nothing – simply spending the time with each other. The feelings that are harboured by the both of you simmer in the small space between your bodies; spoken yet unspoken.

The conversation from earlier, and the tension, has dissipated leaving behind a light, fun atmosphere that lets you see the best of Sirius. As a result, he has your heart thumping in your throat to the point where your pulse sounds in your ears.

It’s when he makes one comment about your closeness as children that has a particularly flirty tone and meaning that has your back straightening in realisation, “Are you… Are you flirting with me?”

“I might be…” Sirius comments with a smile.

“Not even you could be so cruel, Sirius, to bring up a childhood crush like that and play with my emotions.”

“What childhood crush?”

“Tell me you knew?”

At the blank expression on his face and the curiosity alive in his eyes, you let out a laugh, “I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids… even when we started Hogwarts I had a crush on you! You had to know, surely?”

He shakes his head vigorously, “I had no idea about it.”

“Oh…” You trail off.

“It was reciprocated if you were wondering.”

You sit up straighter, “It was?”

Sirius blushes; pushing his hair back from his face, “It was.”

Silence falls between the two of you. You’ve both stopped walking; steps paused in the middle of the corridor – hardly any sound around you other than the occasional hoot of an owl and a laugh from a young student. For what feels like forever, you simply stare at each other.

Your stomach turns with anticipation; readying yourself for the question you’re about to ask. Taking a deep breath, you break the silence with a single question, “And what about now?”

“Now?”

You nod, “Are those feelings reciprocated now?”

“They might be…”

“They might be, or they are?” You ask breathlessly; his words setting aflame the hope in your heart.

“They are. They really are.”

“Thank Merlin,” you gasp before pulling Sirius into a kiss by the hem of his t-shirt.

He responds immediately; taking control of the kiss as his lips glide against yours seamlessly. There could no arranged marriage, no relationship you could ever have that could compare to this one moment. In this one instant, all is defined, and you know that at almost eighteen, Sirius Black was to be the one for you.

A hand runs through his hair as the other anchors itself in his t-shirt; finally getting to feel his hair after so long craving it. With a slight tug of his dark locks, you smile against his mouth at the groan you elicit from the back of his throat. You file that piece of information away for later when it can be explored thoroughly. Entirely wrapped up in him, you give yourself over to him, letting his familiar scent of cloves and sweet orange wash over you.

Breaking the kiss, Sirius rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath and letting the contentment wash over him. He places kisses over your face – your nose, your cheeks, your forehead before finally pecking your lips in an open mouthed kiss.

You beam up at him; happy to have this moment with him in a quiet school where you won’t be interrupted by students, teachers, or ghosts alike.

With a wide grin, Sirius drops his hold of your waist to take hold of your hand and begins to lead you back through the corridors and to the moving staircases. Laughing, you match his pace as you run up the stairs, taking extra care for those that start to shift.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask with a loud giggle.

“It’s a secret,” Sirius says; turning quickly to face you. He places a finger to his lips in a hush. Then and there, you have to resist pulling him into another kiss from the look on his face; the utter delight spread over it combined with the intense mischief and elation alight in his eyes has your heart beating even faster.

Saying no more, you continue on your journey, letting Sirius guide you every step of the way. Arriving on the Third Floor, Sirius turns left, pulling you towards the statue at the end of the corridor. The statue of the One-Eyed Witch had always left you feeling uneasy; as if she was watching you with her one remaining eye – it seemed to follow you wherever you stepped.

Sirius stops in front of the statue; staring up at her for a moment before fixing his gaze on you. His hand comes up to brush your cheek, “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls. However, I know that your reaction to what I’m about to show you will even pale the brightest galaxy.”

You duck your head; uncertain of what to reply, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer emotion in his voice. Sirius tips your chin back up with a single finger, “Fancy going to Hogsmeade?”

You shake your head, “Sirius, I can’t. My parents, remember?”

“I remember just fine. Still, fancy going to Hogsmeade?”

“How?”

Sirius points to the statue of the one-eyed witch, “Through there.”

“Sirius, I love you but that’s a statue.”

He smirks, “It’s good to know you love me, but I need you to say the magic word.”

“And what’s that?”

Leaning close to your ear; so close that his breath is warm across your face, he whispers a single word. You find it hard to concentrate with him so close; his front pressed to your side. His lips brush against your ear and you let yourself arch into his touch as you try to focus on the word being whispered.

“Got it?”

Nodding your head, you step towards the statue. Your hand still wrapped in Sirius’, you whisper, “Dissendium,” Your voice barely louder than a breath.

You take a hasty step back when the hump to the witch opens, revealing a small slide leading into nothing but darkness. You turn to Sirius in awe; a large smile on your face, “How did you?”

Sirius simply shrugs, “I have my way, love. Now, Hogsmeade?”

Tightening your grip on his hand; tugging him into a long kiss, you can barely contain your elation with the teenager now pressing against you. Breaking the kiss but remaining close enough that your lips brush his as you whisper, “I’d go with you anywhere.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual

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joontier · 4 years

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining

warnings: none to note

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE?

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is.

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple.

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done.

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms.

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard?

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on.

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well.

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago.

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon.

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet.

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet.

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.”

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first.

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?”

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning.

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.”

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.”

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest. The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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