#and she sat on my foot as soon as I stopped and demanded affection

[running-with-kn1ves]

Medusa X Blind Reader

Medusa X Blind GN! Reader

A/N: Man... I am on a roll with the reverse comfort lately. anyway, exams arent over quite yet but soon! whoo! I've been trying to write to distract me from the impending doom of my scores lol.

Synopsis: You've been forced by the goddess Athena to become a servant and confidant of medusa as a pity gift, due to the goddess's crimes against her.

TW: Snakes, reverse comfort

The statues in the garden stood silently, unmoving and seemingly lifeless. But when you touched them, let your palm rest on the soft stone, there was a low vibration coming from inside. Sometimes you swore you could hear them whisper, words exchanging to one another behind you. But you knew to distinguish fact from fiction; after all, there was no one else on the island anymore-- other than you and the woman you were made to serve, and she didn't have the humor to play tricks with the ever-frozen bodies of her victims. 

You stopped in your tracks, recognizing you were halfway through the garden by the piece of uneven stone underneath your foot. The sound of quiet sobs filled your ears. Gentle, uneven cries that tried to silence themselves likely on your behalf. There was only one person it could be.

"...Milady?" 

"Oh, it's you--" she sounded a tad startled, sniffling as she looked up. 

"Is… everything alright?" 

You kept your head slightly down, merely as a sign of respect. Even if you couldn't see, it was demanded of you to follow servant protocol. 

"Yes, quite." You heard the snakes that engulfed her hiss and slither. "I just came to enjoy the flowers. They're blooming this time of year; a shame you can't witness them." 

"Yes..." You felt awkward standing there as she sat, unsure if you should press further or leave her alone. "Perhaps you could describe them to me?" 

You walked over to the bench only a few steps away assuming your lady was there. You had memorized the layout of the garden the first day you arrived on the island; it became your favorite place quickly.

"Well," she started, the sound of slithering coming closer as you sat down. "They're shades of purple and white, but some have yet to blossom. Those who have bloomed with the season are tough and difficult to rip from the ground…They are far different than the flowers I used to see.”

The woman sounded melancholic, sad as if she was longing for something she would never be able to grasp.

"Well," you reached for her hand which sat in her lap, "I'm sure any flower pales in comparison to you, my lady." 

A faint group of shapes was all you could see, but nothing more. Your eyes had failed you since childhood and showed no sign of changing. You smiled at the shape in front of you, feeling her gaze.

"You always know what to say when I'm down, don't you?" She squeezed your hand back. 

The woman treated you more as a confidant rather than a servant despite her status and reasoning for even coming in contact with you. Ever since you had been forced onto this island she never treated you as anything less than a friend. 

"Athena was a fool to gift you to me." She mumbled with affection, taking your hand to her cheek, "I don't know how she didn't save you for herself." 

You felt her kiss your palm, her voice silent and her body going soft next to you. She was quiet, soaking up the moment of bliss. You could feel the wind against your forearm, fluttering the loose fabrics that covered you.  

"Miss…”

“You’ve been so good to me, despite my physical… state.” 

She reached out for your other palm. 

“Of course,” You let her guide your other hand to her cheek. “I’d never abandon someone over such a silly thing.”

You never expected to be so content here. Only the gods ever really had servants, and as a loyal patron to Athena herself, you never saw yourself being forced to dote on another entity. But after being sent as a gift to the woman next to you, you learned your new place. You were supposed to be a consolation gift for the goddess's infamous temper towards your new master. But being banished to an island with serpents for hair and eyes that could turn a man to stone? A mere servant would not be enough to console such a fate.

“You say these words but I cannot believe them.” Medusa puts her head down, her locks of wiggling creatures coming to inspect your nearby hands. They slither and slide, trying to climb further onto you. “You’ve been given luck-- being unable to see me for the creature I am.”

“Luck?” You scoff, playing with the snake that wrapped itself around your finger. “ How am I lucky for being unable to see the woman I serve for? The person whom I breathe every day for? …I have not been blessed with luck.” 

You frowned, feeling yourself grow upset. More snakes from her scalp began to wrap themselves around your wrists and fingers as if she was clinging to you. 

“You do not know, because you cannot see..” She breathed out, sounding close to weeping once more. 

You brought your hand to your face, slowly but surely as one particular snake raised itself to come close. Delicately, you kissed its tiny head as more raised up to touch your face. Small tongues flicked to taste your scent.

“All who have seen you have turned to stone, except for the gods. Do you truly believe it is a curse of hideousness? What if, perhaps,” You felt the small tickle of a million scaly faces touching your cheeks. “It was truly from your beauty that they have been struck by. You blind them with looks that could rival a demi-god, your skin that compares closest to aphrodite’s, your hair which shines a gleam similar to a glittering snake,” 

At that she laughed, the serpents on her head bouncing with her. 

“I don’t think it's quite similar, I think it is that of a snake.” She gives a closed-lipped laugh and holds your hand in her own. 

“You understand what I stress, then.”

She gripped your hand tighter and moved closer. You could smell the earthy scent of her snakes, and the hint of jasmine on her neck that you helped put on this morning. Her leg touched your own, your mouth agape at feeling her breath on your skin. 

“You’re so good to me; why, are you so good?” She stroked your hair, feeling it with the same softness you did with hers. “You are forced to attend to me yourself, sent by she who made it clear you were abandoned here. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to turn to. You were a doomed gift…. So why? When you could kill me now and free this world?”

“My blindness does not make me ignorant, my lady.” You could not stop yourself from parting your lips as she came close. “Do not underestimate my affections for you; my reasons cannot be swayed by such trivial things.” She held her breath, and you could practically feel her eyes widening as she bore into you. ‘You cannot change my affections, no matter how much you try.” You hesitated for a moment anxious to speak your true thoughts. “...I do not desire to leave.”

Without hesitation, the woman leaned up to catch you in a kiss, her soft, scared lips pressing against you gently but with desperation. She grabbed your hip, trying to come closer. You sat stunned for a moment out of surprise. Slowly bringing your hand to her hair of serpents, you waited for them to grace you by wrapping around your arm. You did not need to see her to feel that she was burning with passion.

You leaned into her, feeling yourself get lost in her lips as she teased you. The woman moved away but only an inch, brushing herself against your lips as to beckon for more. But she’d move before you caught her, only to come back with a stronger hold on you than before. Medusa’s serpents curled around your fingers, constricting back and forth to squeeze then release. It was comforting, and an odd pattern that you assumed was from her desire. 

Her hand pressed against the baggy fabric covering your upper stomach, gripping it as if she wanted to tear it free from you. 

“My lady we cannot…” You said, out of breath. “Who knows what the goddess will do if she gets word of this…” 

“I’ve received my unjust punishment,” She muttered between kisses. “I’ve no fear of her anymore, and I will not stop myself from you.” 

She lowered the collar of your clothing, kissing your shoulderblade as her hair nipped at your neck. “You tempt me so. How do you expect me to stop once you’ve confessed yourself…I cannot restrain myself.” 

Your nails sunk into her back as she wrapped a leg around you, her dress becoming a hindrance to the heat of the moment. Her forehead pressed against yours as she only brushed her lips momentarily against yours.

“Please, lie with me in my chambers tonight?” She whispered into your ear, her arms wrapped around you for support. You held her waist as her leg laid firmly against your thigh. 

She parted her mouth. Her tongue slid gracefully against your lips, tempting and begging you to feel as she felt. 

“I assume I have no choice in the matter, my lady.” You managed to say past her lips.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I could do a scenario where reader loves to mess with megumi's hair, but suddenly she stops because she thinks she's bothering him.

The first time you notice how soft his hair is was when you were returning to school after a long mission.

You were riding in a car with the entire first-year gang. Nobara sat in the front seat next to Ijichi while you were placed in the back between Yuji and Megumi. The ride back was a long one. After an exhausting day of exorcising curses, you were all tired. Nobara and Yuji ended up falling asleep minutes into the ride, leaving Megumi to watch the sights passing through the window and you shyly trying to make conversation with him.

It's hard considering the strong crush you have on your fellow classmate. He was intelligent, kinder than he really let on, and fairly mature (at least compared to the people you’re usually around). His good looks were the cherry on top of the entire package. Everyone knew Megumi was a pretty boy and often teased him about it. He had fair skin, long, thick eyelashes, and your favorite being his dark hair. It looked so soft whenever your teacher would pat his head, flattening out the black tresses and ruffling them, much to Megumi’s chagrin. But you really wished you could feel as well.

You were the type of person to show your fondness for others through touch. Some people liked it, and some didn’t. For example, Yuji normally had no problem with you touching him, even welcomed it. You weren’t brave enough to ask someone like Megumi for the same sort of relationship, so you kept your hand to yourself when it came to him. At least until Megumi fell asleep, leaning against the car door for support. It’s then you saw your chance and carefully reached to touch one of the longer spikes.

The little black point wavered at your poking, lightly curling around your index finger as you swirled it around. You giggled to yourself about it. It’s thicker and fluffier than you imagined and also incredibly soft, proving Kugisaki’s theory about a ton of hairspray wrong.

Suddenly, a bump in the road cut your touching short, and you quickly jumped away when Megumi’s eyes began to flutter open.

Suspicious, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said calmly despite your heart thumping under his gaze, but he dropped his interrogation as you all pulled into the school’s parking lot.

That was three months ago.

Now, the two of you were dating, and you saw that as permission to continue your physical intimacy with your more introverted boyfriend.

“Good morning, guys,” you greet your classmates and teacher with a wave, saving your happier actions for Megumi as your hand immediately goes towards his head to ruffle his hair. You pull your hand away but not before letting your fingers clasp your favorite cowlick. Giving a gentle tug, you let it bounce back into place with a smile.

Megumi groans softly, his mouth pursed into a slight frown as he goes to fix his hair back into its normal disarray.

Gojo claps, bringing your attention towards him. “Well now that everyone’s here, let’s go shopping.”

With that, the five of you head to the shopping district despite the heat bearing down on the city. You spend about an hour walking around before deciding to take a break so Nobara and Gojo can catch their breath in the shade while you return some clothes you bought a few weeks earlier across the street. Megumi and Yuji go to buy all five of you drinks, but it isn’t long before you hear Yuji yelling from outside the store.

“Sensei! Kugisaki! Fushiguro is getting hit on! We have to protect (L/Name)’s relationship!”

Before you could even stop them, they’re already up and running in Fushiguro’s direction. Sighing, you grab your card from the store owner and run to catch up with your group.

When you arrive, Kugisaki and Itadori are already clinging to him and ranting something about being in love with him before Gojo saunters up in his best casual wear to challenge them. You have to stifle back a laugh as he goes on about music practice and homewrecking before the event ends with Megumi smacking Yuji in the head as Nobara and Gojo stalk off, defeated.

Hearing your laughter, Yuji cowers behind you with tearful chibi eyes. “Do you see that, (Name)? Fushiguro is so mean. I was only trying to help him and that's the treatment I get .”

“You didn’t help at all. You were nothing short of embarrassing.”

You giggle at the two before reaching out to your silently fuming boyfriend. “No need to be so grumpy, Megumi-kun, or did Gojo give you too much violin homework,” you sing out teasingly, earning a growl about how it isn’t funny as you playfully scramble his hairstyle.

“And that! Will you stop with that?” Megumi demands and forcefully shoves your hand away. “It’s so annoying. You don’t see me petting you all day like some damn pet.”

“Oh,” you say, stepping back from him in your shock. This is the first time Megumi has brought up how you chose to dote on him. Yes, he’d quietly grumble about it from time to time like most things, but he never yelled at you about how you chose to display your affection. You guess you never really realized how much it truly bothered him. Biting back the hurt in your voice, you apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Megumi grunts softly in response, and Yuji decides it’s probably best to ask Gojo to take you all home for today.

It isn’t long after that Megumi begins to notice your interactions with him starting to change. He apologized for yelling at you soon after the event, but you were still much less touchy with him even after accepting his apology.

Normally, you’d grab onto his hand without so much as asking or surprise him with kisses on his cheek. Now, you only hold his pinky from time to time and only if he asks. You also stop your go-to of rubbing his head when you’d greet him or playing with the ends of his hair when you were bored.

Megumi thought maybe something was bothering you, but then he noticed how you’d still laugh and joke around with Yuji and Nobara, your hand gripping onto their shoulder when they’d tell an extra funny joke or affectionately patting them on the back. That wasn’t the worst though. The worst was when you’d absentmindedly sweep Yuji’s hair back into place when it got messy from training. The jealousy it sparked in Megumi was the last straw that makes him decide to ask you what was wrong.

You’re surprised when he tugs on your sleeve, interrupting your conversation with Itadori and Kugisaki. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Sure,” you say, nodding off to Itadori and Kugisaki before following Megumi to the waterspouts outside. You both sat together on the brick square surrounding the structure. It’s a few quiet seconds of you staring at Megumi as he folds his hands in front of him and lazily taps his foot. Dark blue eyes stare at you before dropping back to the ground.

“Are you still mad at me for yelling at you the other week?”

You shake your head. “I told you it’s fine. I’m not mad at you about that.”

“Then, it’s something else,” he decides, and he desperately tries to rack his brain for what else he could have possibly done wrong, “I’m sure I didn’t forget your birthday or anything. Do you not like me anymore or something?”

Gasping, you deny his claim, “Of course I like you, why would you think I don’t?”

“Because you’re not so friendly with me anymore like the way you are with the others, so either you’re upset with me, or you don’t have the same feelings for me as you do with them.”

“It’s neither of those things. With Yuji and Nobara, they’re both sociable people, but you aren’t like them. You don’t like all that kind of stuff, and I don’t want to annoy you by doing things you don’t like.”

Megumi scowls at your confession, sighing because he remembers exactly why you must be talking like this so suddenly. He specifically called your touches annoying, and he inwardly curses at himself for it. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I don’t like it…” he begins unsurely then pauses.

“Then, what?”

Megumi groans softly, an embarrassed heat starting to build in his cheeks as he quietly croaks out, “Feels good.”

“What’s that?” you ask, scooting closer so you can hear him better.

Megumi blushes lightly and cranks his head to look away from your cutely confused blinking. “It feels good when you do it,” he repeats robotically.

“When I do what?”

“When you play with my hair,” he hesitantly explains in more detail, “When Gojo does it, it’s aggravating, but I don't mind so much with you.”

Hesitantly, you ask, “So is it okay if I do it now?”

Megumi nods. “If you want.”

Cautiously, you lift your hand, pulling back in doubt a few times before ultimately sliding your fingers through his hair and rubbing. Megumi groans softly at your touch, and you realize that all those rushed noises of aggravation were actually him moaning from how light and comforting your touch was. You move your hand forward and backward some more, massaging his head until his head starts nodding and his eyes flutter a bit.

You giggle at him. “Are you falling asleep? You’re such a kid.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

You laugh louder as he scoffs to hide his embarrassment.

“In that case, you can sleepover with me tonight, and we can do this if you want,” you offer sweetly, and Megumi glances at you, thinking it over. As your smile grows and your hand hits that sweet spot right at the nape of his neck, he couldn’t deny that he liked the idea of falling asleep with you playing with his hair.

“I’d like that.”

[fatiguing-thoughts]

"Always Bella" - Jacob Black x Reader

Summary: Summary: Jacob x reader angst. Bella always comes first. I'm going to hurt your feelings so if you don't want that please don't read this.

Read: Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part IV / Part V

Weeks.

It had been weeks since I had heard from my best friend Jacob. Our friendship had felt a bit different since Bella Swan had moved back to Forks, however he had never ignored me like this.

How did we go from spending every waking moment together to this?

No answers to my phone calls, texts, or knocks at his door.

I felt my face contort with pain as I think about all the laughs we shared, staying up in his garage until 3 am working on his rabbit, just the two of us. Embry and Quil stopping by to poke fun... until Bella came back to town.

Now it was us... and Bella. Or just him and Bella while I sat on my couch on our usual pizza nights.

Jacob and I progressively spent less time together one on one. I was watching my best friend follow this girl around like a lost puppy, willing to do anything for her, though she was not willing to do the same.

Jacob was like the sun, to anyone he blessed with his presence. Now, it seemed to be that he was Bella's sunshine, no longer able to warm my life. Though, she seemed to be a cloud of darkness that rained over his head daily; I couldn't understand why it was her.

Why not me?

It was always Bella.

Though, eventually Jake disappeared, too. He joined in with Sam, Paul, Embry, and Jared. Despite always making fun of them, he disappeared completely to hang out with them.

So when Bella Swan called me to see if I had heard from Jacob recently, I was both shocked and relieved to know that he abandoned her, too.

"Please, (Y/N)... We need to go see him." She begs through the phone. "What if he's not okay?"

The thought of Jacob not being okay was enough to send my stomach into the deepest pit of pain.

As much as he was killing me, I couldn't stand the thought of him in pain. The fact that he was being a dick to Bella too was comforting in some sick way.

"Alright." I mutter into the phone. "I'll see you when you get here."

I quickly hung the phone up and put my shoes on, awaiting the rumbles of Bella's old truck.

The shaking of my leg was interrupted momentarily as her truck pulled in front of my house. I stood up and made my way over to the orange, rusting vehicle.

"Hey." She murmured.

"Hi." I spoke softly, leaning my head against the window.

Bella wasn't stupid, she knew how I felt for Jacob.

She knew of the riff she caused between us.

She always looked at me with a sympathetic look, though I know she didn't truly care for how much it hurt.

Overall, it sucked for me. However, I cared more for how much she was hurting Jacob.

I knew as soon as Edward came back, she would once again put Jacob right back in his place. Back where he really belonged for Bella.

Jacob was a distraction, he was a place holder. He was just another person to pick up the pieces of Bella Swan. And she knew that. But to Jacob, she was everything.

It hurt to watch him pine so hard over someone who would never return that affection.

I felt his pain.

The abrupt stop and screeching of Bella's brakes was enough to pull me back down to reality. I looked out of the window to see the rain slide down, leaving trails of water behind.

That's when I saw him.

Jacob.

He easily grew a foot, his hair no longer long like I enjoyed. A tattoo on his now buff arm, steam radiating from his skin in the rain.

"What the fuck..." I mutter to myself.

The slamming shut of Bella's door shook me, bringing me back to reality once again. I struggled to find the door handle, trying to catch up to her walking over to Jacob. I quickly managed to get out of the truck, almost running to catch up.

"Bella go home. I don't want you here." He scolds, refusing to meet her gaze. I had to hold back a smile as I heard his words, as I didn't need to be openly appreciative of his coldness towards the girl.

"No, what happened to you?" She demands, walking closer to him.

"No. I don't want to see you." He huffs.

"Please, look at me." She pleads, pushing a hand onto his chest.

"Jake..." I whisper to myself, still trying to take everything in.

His eyes finally met hers and his face contorted to one of disappointment. Like he was waiting for something that would never come.

"Go home Bella." He says once again, shaking her off and pushing forward.

"Jacob, please." I whisper, my hand grazing his feverish arm.

"(Y/N)... please don't do this." He turns to look at me with a somber, sympathetic face.

"Do what?" I ask with a shaky voice, finally tearing my eyes from his entirely different physique to his chestnut brown eyes.

His face fell into one of tranquility, his clouded eyes in a complete daze as they stared into mine. The tenseness that was once in his body left, his shoulders and jaw falling slack. I suddenly felt a strong pull to Jacob, one stronger than before, somehow. Looking into Jake's eyes felt like most intense peace I have ever felt.

"Jacob?" Bella's wavering voice chimed.

Jacob's gaze finally left mine, turning to Bella disappointedly.

"I can't believe this..." He murmurs.

"Believe what? What just happened Jacob?" I ask, a pit forming in my stomach once again.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." He huffs, turning back to me sympathetically. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I can't do this. I don't want to see you ever again."

His words cut like knives, I felt the world around me spin, all the air left my body.

"What?" I whisper as tears prick my eyes.

"Jacob, what happened to you?" Bella asks, anger framing her face.

"Why don't you ask those filthy bloodsuckers you love so much?" He spits, before turning back to me, shaking his head in disappointment.

Bella was taken aback, as was I.

What does that even mean? Filthy bloodsuckers?

"Goodbye, don't come back again." He warns.

And just like that, he ran off into the woods to meet up with Embry, Sam, Paul, and Jared.

Leaving me confused, hurt, and stuck in the rain with Bella Swan.

_____________________________________

Might do a part two, what do you think?

i found some time after finishing some assignments I had to do. I hope you enjoy and I should get part two up soon.

Read: Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part IV / Part V

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 15

masterlist

Hello my darlings! I’m back from vacation, and I have an update for you! after leaving you on such a cliffhanger too. If you haven’t checked out the newest fic in the Forbidden Fables collab, you should! @chimchimsauce​ has done a fabulous job with it, and I’m always a sucker for a good Cinderella story. --- chaotic puff

Shock. Horror. Despair.  All of these things ran through him in waves as he stared at the door in front of him. Y/N was behind that door. Y/N was behind that door, and she was dying while he sat out here helpless to do anything about it. Jin had shut him out of the room, demanding he stay put while he went to go help the doctors with Y/N. 

He’d thought that after the hours of pain they would get to sit and enjoy their little girl in peace, but it seemed like that wasn’t meant to be. Instead he and their daughter had to sit alone and forlorn without any idea how she was doing. 

The baby made a small distressed sound, bringing her father’s attention to her, and Namjoon suddenly realized he had no idea what to do. He’d read the books. He’d planned, but he had no idea what to do in reality. Y/N would have known. She was a perfect mother, but Namjoon didn’t and he felt lost. 

“It’s okay, princess.” he cooed, awkwardly bouncing her. “Eomma is gonna be just fine.” 

That didn’t seem to help anything as she let out a sound that was more of a squawk than anything else before bursting into tears, crying her little heart out. Namjoon didn’t know that a being so small could make such a loud noise, and it sent him into a panic. 

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he begged, but she seemed set on ignoring him. “Please don’t cry.” 

“Oh, goodness.” came the exasperated sigh from the other end of the room drawing a relieved sigh from Namjoon as salvation was in sight. “Give her to me.” Sen appeared as if from nowhere with a diaper bag hung on her shoulder to scoop the screaming infant from his arms. 

“How’s, Y/N?” Yoongi asked, plopping into the seat beside him. 

“I don’t know.” The screaming stopped, Namjoon looked up to see Sen’s swaying back and forth gently, happily cooing at the baby. “How did you do that?” He asked in awe. 

Sen turned, showing him the newborn happily settled in her arms with a bottle of formula. “She’s hungry and mom’s not here. She’s a little upset. The least we can do is fill that belly.” she smiled gently down at his daughter, and he even caught Yoongi with a ghost of a smile from the corner of his eye. They were good together despite both of them arguing that it was a matter of convenience and that the only reason they were together was their son. 

“I don’t know what to do…” he whispered, staring down at his hands. “I thought… I thought Y/N would be here.” 

“She’ll be fine.” 

Sen nodded along with Yoongi’s words. “Do you want to try?” She offered, a little awkwardly. She and Namjoon had never been on the best of terms. 

“I don’t…” Sen rolled her eyes, starting in on giving the crime boss instructions on how to hold his arms and cradle her head as she settled the upset infant into his arms. Nara was quick to settle as Namjoon offered her the bottle again, cradles in his arms as Sen sharply reminded him to mind her head. “See? It’s easy.” 

“She’s so small.” he whispered, awestruck despite how exhausted he was. 

“Newborns are like that.” Yoongi deadpanned. 

“What am I going to do if something  happens to her?” he asked, brow furrowing and making him seem even more haggard than he was. “I don’t know anything about raising a little girl.” 

“She’ll be okay.” Yoongi assured him, the smallest of smirks tilting up the corner of his mouth as he watched Namjoon begin to panic again as Nara started fussing once more. It was a simple fix. Sen had Namjoon fix the angle of the bottle, and all was well again. “She’s tough like that. She’s put you through your paces, that’s for sure.” 

A half choked laugh escaped him as he lifted his gaze to meet that of his old friend’s. “She has, hasn’t she?” 

“With any luck this little lady will be more like her than you.” 

Another choked laugh. 

“We’d all be doomed.” Yoongi shrugged, gently tugging at the tiny foot that was poking out of the blanket. “Who’s with Yoonho?” 

“Hayan. That woman loves kids.” 

“Think she and Jin will be having any soon?” 

Yoongi gave him a look that clearly conveyed that Namjoon should have known the answer to that question already. “You know how he is with her. They’re probably not going to have any until Jin is absolutely certain she’s healthy. He thinks the poor woman is going to break if she so much as sneezes.” 

Soon enough the bottle was done, and Namjoon thought he was free and clear. She’d been content the whole time, and Sen had been kind enough to do the burping and changing before handing the baby back to him. She was convinced that if he stood up while holding her, he’d drop her. She claimed he looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over, and she didn’t want to be responsible for telling Y/N why her brand new baby had been dropped on her head. 

The problem came when Nara was handed back to him. She was fed, changed, and burped, and by any normal reasoning she should have been content and probably drifted off to sleep, but no. the moment that she was back in his arms she started caterwauling again, and nothing he did soothed her. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking between the couple frantically. “What did I do?”  

“Here.” Yoongi let out a long suffering sigh and scooped Nara out of his arms. Magically, she stopped crying within minutes, settling against Yoongi’s chest as he leaned back in his chair. 

“How did you do that?” 

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you.” Sen shrugged, rummaging through the diaper bag. She pulled out a pacifier and handed it over to Yoongi who took it and offered it to the sleepy little girl on his chest. 

“She’s my daughter.” 

“She’s Y/N’s daughter too.” 

Yoongi and Sen stayed with him for a while, occasionally they would try to hand Nara back to him, and she would scream each time, but eventually they had to return home to their son. Jin had made them promise not to let Hayan overdo it. Namjoon was left alone with a diaper bag and a screaming child who would not settle no matter what he did. 

He was exhausted. He was worried, and slowly, a tinge of resentment settled within him as he looked at his daughter. This tiny, squawking being was the reason Y/N wasn’t with him. If she hadn’t been pregnant, none of this would have happened. Maybe if it had been a son, maybe then it would have seemed a little more worth it, but it was a girl. He’d been so excited when Y/N had told him, but now all he felt was bitterness. He was going to lose his wife, and it was all this tiny, useless girl’s fault. 

He was on the brink of throwing her across the room when Jungkook appeared. He hadn’t left the house since Y/N had first gone into labor, but it was the first time he’d seen the boy since Nara had come into the world. 

“Is this her?” he asked, nervously eying the screaming bundle in his hyung’s arms. 

“Yeah.” 

Very unceremoniously, Namjoon plopped the baby into Jungkook’s arms despite the younger man’s panic at being offered the baby, but to both of their amazement, Nara stopped screaming after a time. 

And then, in the quiet as Jungkook cooed at his daughter telling her how pretty she was, he began to resent himself. It wasn’t Nara’s fault. She was only a few hours old, so new and small. She didn’t know what was happening to her mother. She didn’t know that she was going to be all alone in the world if her mother didn’t pull through. It wasn’t her fault. She was just as frightened as he was, and he didn’t know what he was doing. She didn’t even have the added benefit of being able to understand what was going on. None of that was her fault. 

“Is there any news about noona?” Jungkook asked softly, staring at the same door that Namjoon had been anxiously staring at since Jin had pushed him out. 

“I haven’t heard anything.” he admitted, staring down at his hands. “The doctors are with her.” 

“Has Jin hyung been out?” 

“Not yet.” he sighed. “She likes you.” he glanced over seeing his daughter drifting off to sleep in Jungkook’s arms. “She screams every time I hold her.” 

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re stressed. Baby’s don’t like stress.” Namjoon’s eyes widened. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before. He’d been on edge since Jin had pushed him out of the room with Nara in his arms. He hadn’t thought that his nerves could affect the baby. “She looks like noona.” 

“She does.” he admitted, the tiniest worn out smile. “And she likes me just about as much as her mother does too.” 

“It’ll be better when you both get some rest. Why don’t you get some sleep, hyung? I’ll take care of Nara, and I’ll wake you up if there’s any news about noona.” 

He shook his head. “No. I want to be here if there’s any news.” 

“You need rest, hyung.” 

“I can’t…” he whispered brokenly, resting his head in his hands. “I can’t when she’s in there… when I don’t….” he took in a deep shaky breath. “I can’t think without her. I can’t breathe. I can’t even get our daughter to stop crying.” 

“She’ll be alright. Noona is strong.” 

“There was so much blood.” 

“Jin and the other doctors are with her.” Jungkook was going to continue, but Nara let out a mighty wail startling both of them, and he was quick to shove the newborn back into her father’s arms in panic. “Your kid, hyung.” 

Namjoon was no less panicky than Jungkook, but he didn’t have the luxury of pawning off the newborn on someone else when she started crying. She was his child, and he was going to have to learn how to soothe her, especially if her mother didn’t pull through. 

“It’s okay.” he mumbled awkwardly, bouncing her in his arms. “You’re okay.” he knew she had to be tired. She was so small, and she’d barely slept at all between all the crying and the different people coming to sit with them. 

Jungkook plopped down beside him, smiling bashfully. “She’s really loud.” 

“She is.” 

At that moment though, Nara did something that made his frantic thoughts pause. She reached out with one little hand and grasped onto his finger as tightly as she could and her cries settled into whimpers as he pulled her a little tighter against him. 

“It’s going to be okay.” he told her. “Appa’s here. I’ll look after you.” he promised as she looked up at him still all teary and red, but she was settling, the first time she had settled in his arms since she’d been born. 

“See!” Jungkook beamed. “She likes you.” 

And hopefully she did. If not, she was going to make him go grey much quicker than planned. 

“Joon?” Jin called, stepping out of the room, and Namjoon’s stomach dropped seeing the amount of blood on the scrubs he wore. 

“Is she��?” 

Jin gave him a tired smile. “She’s okay for now. She’s lost a lot of blood though.” 

Namjoon stood up, already making his way to the door, but Jin stopped him. “She’s sleeping now. She’s going to need a lot of rest, and she’s getting a blood transfusion. You need to be gentle with her for a while.” Jin ordered sternly. 

“I’ll give her whatever she wants so long as she’s okay.” 

Jin nodded. “You should go sit with her, for a little bit, but you both need rest.” Namjoon nodded, only half paying attention to him now that he was allowed to see Y/N. “Don’t you dare wake her up, Namjoon!” 

But the man didn’t hear a word of the warning as his eyes zeroed in on his wife. She looked far too pale and sickly and small all tucked up in bed, but she was alright. She was alive.

part 16

[rhenuvee]

PDA pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: No story line, just moments :P

Warnings: The gif... + it’s in the title, George having enough of your bs again, mention of the booty, suggestive moments

Link to pt 1: PDA pt1 (Yeah so there’s 500+ freakin notes on it holy crap)

Yeah so I just kinda wrote this during my English class...

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

You always enjoyed the free days you got from work. You usually helped out in the shop when you weren’t working your regular job. Fred insisted you relax in the flat, but you wanted to spend more time with him, which meant working. 

You didn’t mind it really. His shop was full of excitement, you’d take it over a boring office job any day. 

“Love! Where’d you go?” called his voice from the top floor. You were sitting on the counter on the bottom floor already ready, and taking a sip of your tea. Your ears perked as you watched your boyfriend fiddling with his tie. As soon as he spotted you, a toothy grin came upon his face but quickly disappeared once he saw you on the counter.

“(Y/n)...” he sighed quickly trotting down the stairs while fixing his tie up and heading towards you. You hopped off the counter and leaned your back on it, knowing he was going to say the same thing again.

“Why don’t you go back up and rest?” he asked rather quietly while stroking your cheek. You put down your teacup.

“Freddie, you don’t need to worry about me, I’m wide awake.” You were hoping your cheerful voice would convince him- you were telling the truth after all. He sighed again, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want you to work on your free day.” 

“And I’m not. I just want to spend more time with you.” 

Yours and Fred’s relationship consisted of lots and lots of affection- George was unfortunately a witness to it. You loved the cuddling after a long day after work, the tight hugs once you came home, the silly kisses when Fred was hyper... Maybe it was just missing him after your hours apart during work, or purely being so proud of what he accomplished. 

“Addiction? That’s not very good, love.” he teased, smirking. You gave his arm a light push and shook your head. A tease he was. “And I offered you to join me in the shower, but you said no.”

“Because every time you ask me and I say yes, your hand is on my butt before I even step foot into the shower.” He laughs at this, which you push him a little harder for. You pause and turn your head to the front of the shop, where the ‘No PDA’ sign sat in all it’s cardboard glory. 

“Are we being too much? I don’t like being annoying to George.” you said biting your lip.

“Hm? Don’t worry about George, he’s just being crabby. And I thought you liked breaking the rules.” The shit-eating grin on his face made your face hot. He pinned you against the counter, hand brushing your waist.

“Well, I don’t, until you rubbed off me.” You poked his chest playfully.

“Did I?” He asked teasingly and getting closer to you. Before you could answer, the door flung open and a few customers entered. 

You quickly pried yourself off your boyfriend and fixed your shirt which was ruffled by the counter. You glared at him and scrunched your nose. He in turn winked and stuck out his tongue at you. Fred chuckled at how frantic you looked, compared to the customers who were too late to notice the PDA that was about to happen. 

---

There weren’t any problems with customers, and the day seemed to be passing slowly. It wasn’t until there were only a couple of people in the shop at the moment, and your boyfriend decided to walk towards you. He wrapped his built arms around your waist, and his chin rested atop your head. You were a bit surprised, but smiled when you felt the familiarity of his touch.

“Fred, you almost scared me.” You said putting one hand atop his, and the other pushing the skiving snackboxes to look nice. He didn’t say anything.

“What is it Freddie?”

“Nothing...” he mumbled. “Just- you gotta stop being so bloody cute.” He took your free hand and rubbed it with his thumb. His head was in the clouds lately, you noticed. You remembered that was the same hand you had the scars from the blood quill. Your heart swelled at how sweet he was being.

“There are people still here.” you whispered. “Merlin, no wonder George can’t stand you.” you scoffed. He unwrapped his arms around you to turn you to face him.

“But that’s because we broke the no PDA rule...” You noticed that he mumbled the last bit, trailing off a little. You were left speechless as his hand was brought up- his index finger to tilt your chin up and his thumb to trace your bottom lip. You never realized when he got so close to you, but you did now as he leaned in and-

“Excuse me, Mr. Weasley!” You quickly coughed and pulled away. A small kid about eight years old tapped Fred. The little boy cocked his head in confusion as he saw both of you in an- *cough* interesting pose. Your boyfriend, quick and clever as ever, pretended and made an excuse.

“Hello, sorry I was fixing her... apron!” He said quickly bringing a hand to your back and fiddling with the tied string. You rolled your eyes, the boy giggled at how silly Fred’s tone was. 

“You know how clumsy she gets- now what did you need help with?” You glared at him as he was whisked away by the kid, but also noticing that your apron strings were now undone. You shook your head at how much of a troublemaker Fred was.

---

As soon as Fred was done recommending a product to the boy, he walked over to where you were standing with your arms crossed. You were lucky that the last few customers had already exited before this. Surprising as well, since it was just before your lunch break.

“Yes?” He asked. You stayed put in your crossed arm form.

“’Yes?’ You call your girlfriend clumsy and you say ‘yes’?” 

“Well, you didn’t let me finish, darling.” Fred leaned against the shelf slightly and threaded one of this hands through your loose hair. “She’s a little clumsy, yes- but she’s also smart, funny, kind, drop dead gorgeous...” He placed a kiss somewhere on your face for each thing he listed. You blushed at his words and placed your hands on his forearms. 

“And sometimes she looks like a pygmy puff early in the mornings, but- hey! Ow!” 

“Well then I think you’re just a right prat.” He gasped dramatically at your statement which made you laugh. 

“That hurts...” he said softly with a pout trying to sound in pain. “Care to make it up to me?” And just like that, his cheeky nature returned. He asked the question while tapping his lips with his index finger- you knew what he was implying. 

“You, Fred Weasley are too much for me.” You sighed bringing him in for the kiss he was wanting all this time. He happily leaned in as well, connecting your lips together and moving in sync. 

You couldn’t even focus, let alone control where those hands of his were touching you; one on the nape of your neck, and the other on your waist. He purposely backed you up a little against the shelf, careful not to knock any of the products over. It caused him to push his lips more, and soon slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fred. (Y/n).” called George quietly from just outside his room. You heard him, but Fred didn’t seem to.

“Fred...-” you said in between breaths, hardly able to say his name. You tapped him on the shoulder to signal him to pull away. He groaned as he listened, not wanting to stop.

“To be fair she was staring at my arse, first.”

“Fred!”

“Ew... fix your clothes wouldn’t you, children.” said George putting the jacket he was holding in front of him to cover the view of you. 

“George, where have you been, mate? Haven’t seen you much this morning.” inquired Fred. He was right now that he mentioned it. You only saw George a bit this morning, but he often seemed like he was rushing.

“I have a date.” He said. You and Fred’s eyebrows raised. You were all living with each other yet he gets a date out of the blue?! 

“Georgie, that’s great! Who’s your date?” you said happily before your boyfriend could spit out something offensive.

“I have a date with Angelina.” He said pursing his lips and nodding his head. His behaviour was oddly monotone despite having a date. You squealed in excitement for your two best friends who have finally got the courage to make something happen.

“Oh bloody hell, I have a date with Angelina... what am I going to do, what do I say?” Turns out George was just a little nervous. You and Fred both giggled. You bid George goodbye as he walked out the shop door. You were happy for him, and Angelina- you noticed the shy smile on his face as he walked out. You knew it was going to go well for them.

Just as a short moment of silence came over, Fred suddenly had a thought in mind.

“Wait, does this mean that ‘No PDA’ sign is no more?” He asked with a large grin upon his face. Oh god, you knew how this conversation was going to end.

“We don’t know if George’s date is going to go well.” You said shrugging. You knew it would, but you were trying to counter him. Fred’s eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘really?’ 

“Well...” he started with a smirk appearing and his hands reaching to your hips again. “Why don’t we find out? Test out its limits?” 

You shook your head, both at how sneaky he was being, and to also try to mask the red on your face. 

“Frederic Gideon Weasley...” you said in a tone attempting to be demanding. You watched as he bit his lip, clearly knowing what you were going to say. Why did your boyfriend have to be so attractive? You were also leaning into his touch, and that’s how he knew he had you.

“You are way too much trouble.” you said pointing a finger to him.

“Was that a yes?” he asked cheekily. He knew you were trying to avoid his question.

“It wasn’t a no.” you said trying to supress the smile on your face as you were whisked away to your bedroom by your loving boyfriend.

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

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[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Epilogue

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit​.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: A family can be a mom, a dad, their baby, mom and dad's boyfriend who is also the baby's honorary uncle, a cat, and a total of five dogs. 

***

“You know, you and your brothers had been baptized long before you were six months old.”

The speakers are not on, but Ernesto is still able to hear every word Imelda’s mother is uttering due to the disease that seems to affect many people the age of fifty - the certainty you absolutely need to yell into the phone for your words to be heard on the other side.

Imelda would very much appreciate not hearing them, if the way she drops the side of her head against the passenger side window with a thunk is anything to go by. “I am aware, mamá,” she almost groans. “But we’re doing it now, no? We’re on the way there, by the way, that’s what I called to let you kno--”

“And I am glad, but I cannot see any reason why you had to wait this long.”

Imelda’s head thunks back against the window just as Ernesto changes lanes to get past a car whose owner seems to be missing the foot that’s supposed to go on the speed pedal. Somewhere in the back, Héctor groans quietly. 

“I had work to do, Héctor had work to do, and if we wanted to have the ceremony in Santa Cecilia we needed time to organize,” Imelda is gritting out. “I don’t see why we should have rushed things, considering that Coco is not at risk of imminent death. Nor has she had enough time to commit significant sins on the mortal plane.”

“Of course she has not, but you know it is important for babies to be baptized--”

“And besides, the Pope decided limbo is no longer canonical some ten years ago.”

“He also said it is no reason to delay--”

“Ah, we’re getting into a tunnel. Signal is bad. See you later,” Imelda snaps, and ends the call before dropping against the backrest with the expression of a luchadora who barely made it through the end of the match. “Remind me why cancelling the entire baptism out of spite is not a good idea?”

“Ceci worked really hard on the ropón and Coco looks beautiful in it,” Héctor speaks up.

“I already paid for the entire damn thing,” Ernesto supplies helpfully.

A chuckle. “Ay, we’re stuck, then,” Imelda says, and turns back to Ernesto. “... Sorry. What were you saying before the call again?”

“The concert next month. The latest piece Héctor wrote is a duet and we could use a woman’s voice. You should come with us, it will only be a couple of nights and you’d only need to be on stage for that song. Armando is already sold to the idea.”

It seems a very reasonable proposal to Ernesto, but Imelda frowns, pulling the car’s window down just enough to get some wind on her face. “I know he is, but I am not completely sold to the idea of leaving Coco in my brothers’ care for any amount of time.”

“It can’t be that ba--”

“You were not there when they came up with the self-rocking crib,” Héctor interjects from the back.

“The self-rocking crib?”

“Yes. Thankfully they tested it on Pepita first. She was not very happy about being ejected against the wall, but you know what they say about cats landing on their feet.”

“Ah.” Ernesto briefly debates whether he should tell them about the surprise the twins are planning. Not that he knows what the surprise actually is, they just briefly mentioned they were going back to Santa Cecilia a few days earlier than them to prepare… something. 

Ah, it will be fine. Probably. 

“Well, maybe we could find someone else to look after Coco,” he finally says instead. “Or keep an eye on them while they look after Coco. ”

Imelda hums. “I guess Ceci may be able to.”

“... Anyone else?”

“Don’t be like that, she’s her godmother.”

“Not yet she isn’t, you have time until tomorrow to change your min--”

“Your co-godparent,” Héctor pipes in. “Meaning that if anything happens to me and Imelda, you two will be morally obliged to step in and help her out. Together.”

“Uuugh. You both had better live long and healthy lives.”

A chuckle. “We’ll do our best,” Imelda promises, and for a time the car is quiet. Not for a long time, with Héctor speaking up again soon enough. 

“Are we there yet?”

Ernesto sighs. And there he hoped he would stop asking. “No.”

“My leg is all pins and needles.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if you sat like a normal human.”

“But Coco needed me to hug the baby seat, she wouldn’t settle otherwise.”

“Well, she’s asleep now. You can let go.”

Sprawled across the back seat in order to keep his arms wrapped around the sleeping child on the baby seat, his left leg folded awkwardly beneath him, Héctor shoots a very offended look which Ernesto glimpses through the rear view mirror.

“No,” he declares with all the defiance of a father refusing to hand over his baby to King Herod himself to be slaughtered in the Massacre of the Innocents. Ernesto shrugs.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and keeps driving. A boring task right now, the road straight and mercifully empty. They should be in Santa Cecilia within a couple of hours, he estimates, give or take a few--

“Are we there yet?”

“Por Dios, I was prepared for the baby to be insufferable throughout the trip, but you’re worse,” Ernesto groans. On the passenger seat, Imelda rubs her temple. 

“We could stop a few minutes, so Héctor can stretch his legs - don’t protest, you know you need it. I wouldn’t mind a break either,” she adds, and glances over at Ernesto. “Do you want me to drive the rest of the way? You’ve been at the wheel the entire time.”

“I can drive the rest of the way,” Héctor volunteers.

“Absolutely not,” Ernesto and Imelda say as one.

“Oh come on, if this is still about that thing with the level crossing in Colima, it was weeks ago and--”

“Coco is in the car,” Imelda reminds him, and Héctor promptly shuts up. When Ernesto pulls into a service station and stops the car in the small parking lot, he slowly disentangles himself from the baby seat. As Coco does not, in fact, bolt awake screaming in horrible pain the second he lets go, he finally gets off the car and takes a few steps. 

Or rather, hops awkwardly on one foot while trying to regain sensation in his left leg. Imelda watches him hop towards the toilet with a chuckle, and turns to put a hand on Ernesto’s arm. “I’ll be getting coffee for both me and Héctor. Knowing you, I assume you’d prefer a beer.”

“I’m supposed to be driving--”

“Look at you, being all resonsible with a baby on board. But no, you’re not. I’ll take over from here,” she cuts him off, and Ernesto smiles. 

“I’ll take two beers, then. One for me and one for the señorita in the back.”

Imelda laughs, and smacks his chest before she picks up her purse. “I’ll be right back. If the señorita in the back awakens and demands a drink, you know where the bottle and the thermos with her milk are.”

“I may have forgotten, Héctor only showed me sixteen times,” Ernesto calls after her, leaning against the side of the car. He arches his back to stretch, groans at the satisfying pop somewhere in his spine, and pulls out his phone. Sofía has sent him a photo showing the couch in Héctor and Imelda’s living room, currently occupied by four napping chihuahuas, an unimpressed-looking cat, and an upside-down Xolo dog.

Pet sitting them here is a lot better, she wrote. At least it’s not my shit they chew up. No shoes among the fatalities, though, so no need to castrate the big one. Tell Imelda that.

Ay, how unfortunate that Dante is getting the snip either way, Ernesto thinks, much like Diablo and Lobo did. He could have Clara and Zita spayed, true enough, but the procedure is more invasive and he’d rather spare them the ordeal if it can all be fixed, literally, by fixing Dante. They’ll book the appointment as soon as they get back, and then he and Héctor will have a drink in male solidarity. Soon, possibly before either Clara or Zita can--

“Bababababa!”

Ah, so the señorita is awake. Ernesto puts away the phone and sticks his head back into the car. “You called?” he asks, and Coco grins up at him with half a tooth, absolutely delighted. She reaches up with a squeal, and Ernesto grins back.

“You want me to pick you up? Is that it?”

“Aaaababah!”

“Is that a yes? I’ll take it as a yes.” Getting Coco out of her baby seat gets another delighted squeal out of her, chubby hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He bounces her a bit and she gives a joyous laugh. “Ah, look at you. Don’t tell your papá I said it, but sometimes I get what he means when he--”

“BLEAGH!”

“Gah!” 

Getting half-digested milk and apple puree all over his shirt is not what Ernesto expected to happen, but in retrospect he probably should have. To his credit he doesn’t give in to his first instinct, which is to drop the baby to tend to his shirt, so he will get to live another day. He just stands there, staring down at his ruined shirt, holding Coco at arms’ length. 

Unaware - or maybe perfectly aware - of the mess she has made, Coco burps and laughs, legs dangling in what almost looks like a little dance. Ernesto sighs, and stares at her in the eye. “I take that back,” he informs her. Coco giggles. 

“... I suspect I know what that look means. I will not be the one to change your diaper.”

“Paaa.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll leave it to your--”

“She’s awake! She didn’t cry, did she? Coco! Papá is here!”

“Paaaaaaaa!”

Héctor takes Coco from Ernesto’s hands with a wide smile, not even noticing the condition his shirt is in, and twirls around with her in his arms, making her laugh harder. Ernesto would warn him not to spin too much, but it seems she’d already emptied her stomach, the little demon. In the end he just scoffs, gives her an offended look she absolutely ignores, and grabs a clean shirt from his luggage in the back of the car before he heads for the toilets to try and somewhat salvage the one he’s wearing. Maybe if he washes off the worst of it now, his mother will know how to fix the rest. He’s halfway to the toilets when Imelda calls out. 

"Here's your beer, it's not as cold as you like it but-- ah. I see Coco got you."

Ernesto turns to meet her gaze, his expression solemn. “I am afraid your mother was right.”

“... Qué?”

“You’re too late. Your daughter has now definitely sinned on this mortal plane,” he declares. “Do you know how much I paid for this shirt?”

Imelda raises an eyebrow. “Ah, more than you should have. It doesn’t fit you that well. You should just arrive at your parents’ place shirtless. They’re used to seeing you shirtless by now,” she adds, and laughs at Ernesto’s indignant sputtering as he informs her that was low. 

But then she kisses him and promises she will keep his beer in the ice box fridge until he’s back, and he can find it in himself to forgive the affront after all.

***

“... And this my mamá, see? Emilia. She is your other abuela, can you say abuela?”

“Abbwaba!”

“Heh. Close enough, querida. Close enough” 

Sitting cross-legged before his parents’ grave, with Coco nestled comfortably in his arms, Héctor kisses his daughter’s head before turning back to the gravestone with a small smile. Ricardo and Emilia Rivera are smiling back from it, a few years younger than they were when they died. 

Finding that photo was a struggle, because the gas leak that destroyed his home spared none of the family albums. Ernesto nearly tore down his own home, but in the end he was able to dig up a bunch of photographs from one of their very last Nativity plays - and among them was one photo of Héctor, looking a little embarrassed in his angel wings and fake halo, with his parents beaming at either side of him. 

The original is now proudly displayed in the living room in Mexico City; Imelda’s parents have a copy, which Héctor always finds on their ofrenda when he and Imelda come to spend Día de los Muertos with them. Two cut-outs from a third copy are now gracing their gravestone.

I should make more copies. Just in case.

In his arms Coco squeals, and holds out a chubby hand towards the smiling faces of her grandparents. Héctor’s somewhat dampened smile brightens again. 

“Mamá, papá, meet Coco. She’s very happy to meet you.” He bounces the child a little in his arms. “She crawls everywhere and puts everything in her mouth, just like you said I did. And she's got my eyes! Yours, mamá. Not the nose, thank God - no offense, papá, but… come on.” He laughs a little. “Ay, I shouldn’t complain. I mostly grew into it, like you said I would. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that you were right. I’m sorry you don’t get to be here today.”

Héctor pauses a moment, and kisses Coco’s head one more time before he speaks again. “... I wish you were here to give me advice, but I’ll do my best to be as good a parent as you were. I, uh. Well, my family is not really traditional now, I guess. I don’t know if you’d approve. I don’t know if you’d understand. I’m both relieved and sad I may never get to know, and then sad I’m relieved at all because-- either way, I wish you were here.” 

He pauses, and swallows. Oblivious to the painful lump in her father’s throat, Coco has managed to grab a flower and is trying to put it in her mouth. He takes it out of her hand gently, placing it back before the grave. “But I wanted to tell you, I believe I am doing the right thing. And I am very happy. We are all very happy, and doing our best, and that… that is the most important thing, I think.”

Their smiling faces stare back, forever unchanging. He never got to see their bodies - he was told it was for the best - and now he is glad of that. This is how he wants to remember them: whole, and alive, and always smiling. They would smile today seeing their granddaughter, he’s sure. He likes to think that somewhere, they still are. 

Coco sure is smiling plenty for someone with only half a tooth, still babbling and trying to reach out for the faces on the gravestone. Héctor holds her a bit closer, and her hands press on the glass over the photos like she’s trying to grab those smiles for herself. 

“Abbwaba,” she chirps, and laughs like someone just told a really great joke. 

Must be papá. Mamá’s jokes were terrible, Héctor thinks, and when Coco turns to look at him again, laughing, he laughs just as hard.

***

“Oh, you look so handsome!”

That is something Ernesto usually appreciates hearing - he appreciates it very much, truth be told - but it does lose some of its appeal when the person saying it is your mother as she circles you to make sure your jacket looks absolutely spotless.

“Uh, yes. So, are we ready to--”

“Isn’t he handsome, Estéban?”

Estéban de la Cruz, who clearly needs help getting ready far more than Ernesto ever did - anything vaguely more elegant than an undershirt seems to make him ill at ease - glances over and gives him a shrug that probably translates to ‘I have to listen to this every day, now it’s your turn’. 

“Looking good,” is all he says, causing Ernesto to blink. This kind of thing, his father looking at him and talking to him like a normal specimen of homo sapiens, is something he has yet to get entirely used to. He remembers times when he saw his father sitting on the couch while staring at the wall in an alcohol-induced stupor, and being both relieved and frustrated by it. A part of him rejoiced at the chance to just pass by unnoticed and spare himself one of his moods, while the other wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake him, knowing full well it would amount to suicide.

I am here, damn you. I’m right here. Look at me.

“So handsome,” Adela repeats for the eleventh time, snapping him from his reminiscence. “You know, you should find someone.”

As his father looks suddenly very busy fiddling with the buttons of his jacket, Ernesto holds back a groan. “Mamá, can we not--”

“You know Mirela’s son? He’s a nice boy too, and word is that he also may be--”

Oh no. No no no no no, this is not happening.

“Ay, look at the time, I really need to go! See you in church!” Ernesto yells, and sprints to the door, almost forgetting to pick up the sack of coins on his way out.

***

“That’s a very generous bolo.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Ceci would never let me hear the end of it if I gave anything less.”

“Ah, don't be modest. You wanted to be a good godfather and bring plenty of good fortune to your goddaugh--"

“No, it was definitely Ceci."

"Ah." As children swarm around them to pick up the frankly astounding amount of coins Ernesto has scattered around, Héctor laughs and puts an arm around his shoulders. “Ay, don’t worry, mi amigo. I have a song in mind that will more than make up for your losses.”

Ernesto, newly-minted godfather, snorts. “It had better,” he says, elbowing him in the ribs, but his lips are already curling in a smile. Héctor lets out a yelp that’s mostly for show, and looks over to where Imelda is standing, clad in a beautiful dress Ceci insists on tailoring just for her along with Coco’s pure white ropón.

“No, no purple, for God’s sake,” he remembers Ceci muttering as she took Imelda’s measures. “This is your child’s christening, not Lent!”

Imelda does favor purple over most colors, but she looks stunning in the blue dress as she speaks to guests, Coco squirming and giggling in her arms as Óscar and Felipe make faces at her. She gets to make some noise now, after being on her best behavior through… most of the ceremony, a few drum-shattering shrieks aside. Héctor finds himself smiling dreamily. 

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he sighs, and Ernesto raises an eyebrow. 

“Imelda, or Coco?”

“Both.”

“Heh. Yes,” Ernesto concedes. For a few more moments they just look on, side by side. For just a split second Héctor allows himself to wish circumstances would allow him to grab Ernesto’s hand, but he knows better than that; they will not go out of their way to hide, but they have got to be practical. If there is anyone present at the moment they may try to come clean to first, it’s probably-- ah, speaking of them…

“Ernesto?”

“Mmh?”

“The twins are planning something during the reception, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are. It may or may not involve explosive material.”

“Por Dios, tell me you talked them out of it!”

“Why would I? I like fireworks.”

To the boys’ credit, the display is pretty spectacular. The only casualty is a perfectly replaceable tablecloth, and Coco’s sheer delight as she claps at the lights, nestled in her grandmother’s arms, is well worth the loss. 

It also causes enough of a distraction for the three of them to slip their arms under the table and hold onto each other’s hands for a few moments, squeezing tight.

***

“Home, sweet home!”

Héctor’s dramatic declaration would be more accurate as ‘bed sweet bed’, really. When they made it back to their apartment it felt anything but sweet, with a baby cranky from the long trip and five dogs, plus a cat, either very offended by their absence or bouncing off the walls,  frantic for their attention after a grand total of two hours on their own after Sofía left. 

It took about an hour to put down their things, feed the pets, feed the baby, take the dogs out and put Coco in her crib. Then, and only then, can the three of them collapse on the bed and breathe in a sigh of relief. 

“We survived,” Ernesto mutters into the pillow. 

“Seems like it,” Héctor groans. “Now we can sleep.”

And then, of course, Coco starts crying. It takes Imelda approximately half a minute to pick her up, decide she’s not going to be able to keep standing on her own two feet long enough to soothe her, and return to their bed with her. She lays down with her and Coco settles quickly, nestled securely in her arms. She never moves around when asleep and Pepita is keeping watch as always, so it’s safe enough, Imelda reasons with a yawn. She only realizes she forgot to close the door when Pepita jumps in, curling up next to Coco. She groans. 

“For the love of God, close the door before--”

“BOOF!”

“Yip! Yip! Yip!”

“Agh-- Dante, no, wait--” Héctor trails off with a yelp when Dante jumps up on the bed, landing across his legs and just barely missing his crotch with a clumsy paw. Out of the corner of her eye, Imelda notices Ernesto reaching down. 

No dogs on the bed, she wants to say, but Dante is already up and she is tired enough to admit defeat, at least this once. She sighs and shushes Coco while she falls back asleep, trying to ignore Ernesto’s little monsters as they snuffle around to find a spot to snooze. Once they finally settle, Imelda closes her eyes and tries to sleep. And tries. And tries. 

On the pillow, Pepita is purring away. The dogs are mostly silent, except for the occasional twitch and half-snore. Coco is suckling on her thumb as she sleeps, Héctor is breathing with his mouth open as usual, and Ernesto is snoring softly behind her. She could blame any of those things for the lack of sleep, but she knows that’s not it. 

Finally, quiet and careful to stir no one, Imelda half-sits and looks across the bed she used to share with Héctor and no one else, and that used to feel so large. 

It’s quite crowded now, with the three of them and Coco resting on it, Héctors’ limbs splayed in all directions and Ernesto a solid presence behind her, their pets filling up all remaining space. Not a single gap left.

It is perfect. It is whole. 

It is home.

Imelda nods silently, and leans back down. She tucks a lock of hair behind Coco’s ear, kisses her forehead, and closes her eyes with a sated smile.

***

Aaaand it's over, yet another fic that got out of hand and ended up at least three times longer than planned! Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(Also, letting a baby sleep in the Big Bed with mom, dad, their boyfriend who is also a honorary uncle, their cat and their five dogs is really cute in fiction, but can go very wrong in reality if someone turns in their sleep. Don't do that.)

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?

My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...

"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"

He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."

The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -

"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"

I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.

"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.

I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.

The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.

"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."

"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.

He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.

God help me.

I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.

A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.

"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.

I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.

"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.

"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.

"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.

There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.

"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.

Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.

"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.

"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."

"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.

I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.

"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.

"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.

The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."

"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.

"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"

I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.

"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.

The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.

I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?

"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.

"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.

"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.

"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.

I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.

"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.

"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.

"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."

That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.

"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.

"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."

"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."

"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.

"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.

"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.

The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.

"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.

My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.

"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.

A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.

"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.

I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.

My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.

"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.

The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.

The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.

"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.

His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.

"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.

"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.

"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."

He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.

My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.

The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.

He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.

Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.

My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.

His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.

"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.

I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney

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[murderousginger]

Drunk on Shadows

Peaky blinders John Shelby x reader

Warnings: Fluff. Steamy kisses. Power play. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word Count: 2,557

Note: I had multiple vague requests for a needy himbo John, and one that sent me into a tizzy, so I joined this all together for this one.

You sat near the fire and watched the flames flicker in the dark as the others talked around you. You were exhausted, every last nerve you had felt raw, but John's bright eyes were not easily ignored. You let him lead you to the bonfire and surrounded yourself with music and empty chatter. 

John bounced around the gathering, talking and cheering with everyone one by one before he repeated his rounds. Johnny Dogs was loud and rowdy as always. He would circle the party and clap the backs of men or flirt with a woman. Bottles passed around to keep lips loose and tongues wagging. 

You felt like a bump on a log as you watched everyone. You kept to the fringes of the party, watching everyone with a calmness that subconsciously pushed people away without being unfriendly. You didn't have it in you to shelf your troubles from your mind and chat like your head wasn't clouded. 

"Love?" John said as his hand rested on your shoulder. "Are you alright? You don't look like you're enjoying yourself."

You smiled weakly up at him. 

"I'm fine, really." 

"Why are you lying to me?" He frowned and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

"Your mind has been a box of bees all week," he murmured into your hair as he reached for your hand. "You really should relax and enjoy yourself."

He stepped in front of you and his eyes lit up as a mischievous grin split across his face and he pulled you to your feet. You giggled as you tried to tug yourself away but his grin only widened as he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. You laughed and tried to hold on once he lifted you in the air and spun you around again and again until you were dizzy. 

When he sat you back down he grabbed your arms and urged you to run around in circles with the fire between you, going faster and faster like children. He let go of one of your arms to spin you and crashed you into his chest to fall in a heep of laughter on his lap on the ground.

"That's my girl," he murmured as the laughter died down. "There you are."

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before he kissed your cheek. You sighed and melted against him. 

"Thank you," you said softly as you patted his arm around your waist. "Sometimes I get lost in my head, but you always know how to pull me out."

"That's what I'm for, love," he said with a sad smile as he squeezed you tighter. "You're just like my bloody brother sometimes. You get lost in there," he tapped your temple, "but I can find you when you need it. I can do that much."

John was known as the carefree brother, the Shelby that came back from the war without a mark, but you knew different. All three had their ways with coping, and John was like Tommy in his need for control, but his execution was entirely different. 

Tommy ruled others with an iron fist. He demanded allegiance and rules to be followed without question. He demanded immediate results. He was king, but his head would cloud and become dark and it affected his rule. 

John never showed anyone how dark his mind was or when he was lost in worry. The mantle he picked up had been the jester of the brothers and he took it seriously. He was the relief in the pain and no matter how dark his own mind was he would drag others from their sorrows or at least not be another burden. Many people thought he had no ambition or thoughts of his own; a jester with a violent streak when Tommy needed another soldier, or a lover boy that flirted with every woman who breathed in his direction, but you knew different. His friendly demeanor wasn't exactly an act, but it wasn't as shallow as most thought. It was just as much an armor as Tommy's brains or Arthur's violence. It was tactical.

You shuddered in his arms as you realized the implication of comparing you to his brother. 

"You cold, love?" He asked as he rubbed your arms. "We're already nearly on top of the fire."

"You're sweet," you murmured as you turned to kiss his cheek, cupping the other in your hand. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Well you're the smartest woman I've ever met for one," he smiled. "And you're bloody gorgeous to boot."

You giggled as he twisted and pinned you to the ground, his arms holding his lopsided grin above you. His eyes held a glint that caught your breath. 

"I think I'm sick of sharing you for the night," his tone was cocky as his hand pushed your skirts higher.

You giggled, squirming beneath him to catch his hand. 

"People are watching," you whispered as your brows raised with your struggle. "You can't just take me in front of God and everyone."

"I'm sure they've all averted their eyes by now," John teased as he leaned forward to steal another kiss. "Johnny Dogs is no different than a cat in the room."

You gasped and pushed on his chest until you both were sitting up. His want emboldened you. His eyes were playful but quickly filling with lust, pupils blown out and drooping half lidded. Your hand found his chin and held him from meeting your lips with his. 

"John Shelby," you whispered with authority, watching his eyes flicker at his name. "I said no. Be good."

He pressed against your hand like a dog pulling his leash, testing the boundaries. Your fingers wrapped his jaw and you pressed harder until he stilled. His eyes traveled your face, down your neck, your chest and back up. You waited until his eyes met yours again. 

"Tell me what you want, (Y/N)," he breathed. "I'll do it."

You felt a jolt go through you at his words. He was pliant in your hand, his hungry eyes wandering your frame when you weren't forcing him to meet your eye. You were surrounded by people but his eyes never left you. It made you bold. It made you confident.

"You want me?" You asked as you lifted his chin higher and curled your lip in a half smile. 

"You know I do," he matched your smile, challenging what you were to do next. 

You leaned forward and bushed your lips along his neck, blowing cool air into his ear until his head tilted up from your hand. 

"Then come find me in the dark," you whispered before you playfully licked the outline of his earlobe. "Say your goodbyes, count to ten, and come find me. That's an order, soldier."

He shook himself out of your hand and looked at you, his eye wide for a moment before the lust took over, dulling the surprise and smoothing his expression to a lazy smile. 

"Yes," he hummed. "I can do that."

His hand grazed your calf, pushing the skirts up again. You tsked and his warm hand stopped cold along your outer thigh in mid squeeze, a sheepish grin along his face.

"You only touch when I say you can, John," you chastised as you pulled his hand from your leg. "Do you understand?"

"But I want you now," He whined under his breath.

"Soon, love," you soothed with a kiss. 

You stood up and dusted your dress off. You walked out of the ring of wagons that wrapped around the fire without any goodbyes. The cool night air smelled sweet.

Most people knew you didn't tell anyone you were leaving unless John was on your arm, parading you around to say his own goodbyes. He liked to warn everyone that the fun was leaving and they would have to entertain themselves. You liked to slip away into the shadows without a warning, the same way you liked to appear.

Outside of the ring the world was pitch black except for the sliver of moon that lit up the clear sky. You made your way to the tree line, your steps soft on open pasture. Once you met the trees, you looked behind you and heard John's roar of laughter and shadows flickering among the camp. Anytime now. 

As if on cue, John's shape stopped between two wagons, his coat squaring his shape, but you'd know his shadow anywhere. 

"Go get your girl, John," you heard Johnny cackle. "She's a right treat in the moonlight, innit she?"

John immediately shot for the trees and you jumped at his suddenness. You ran further in as the leaves crackled underfoot. You huffed as you ran deeper into the trees, knowing it wasn't a thick forest and you'd find the other side quickly if you didn't slow down. 

You smiled, a plan forming loosely in your mind. You chirped, hearing John stop to listen for you. 

"(Y/N)," he called, "Where are you, love?"

You paused, listening to the crash of the underbrush, and hid behind a massive tree. You chirped again and moved stealthily among the trees, stopping and calling along the way. You heard John grow exasperated as he followed you, a wisp leading him farther into the shadows. Always out of reach.

You stayed behind a tree and heard his footsteps trudge through the leaves closer to you. When he was just about to walk past your tree, you stepped in front of him with your finger on his lips before you stepped back. His face scrunched and he went to take a step forward but you raised your hand to stop him. 

"Stay," you said and immediately giggled at ordering John like a dog, but he froze at your words and you couldn't help but feel the rush. 

"You're not to touch me unless I say you can," you reminded him, growing braver. "You won't get what you want unless you play nice."

John put his foot down and shuffled anxiously in place, but he didn't step forward. 

"(Y/N)," he pressed.

You gave him a look, daring him to ignore your demands, as you undid the fastens and pulled your dress over your head to reveal your thin slip in the slices of moonlight cutting through the branches above. His eyes danced over you. 

He groaned, low and heavy; his hand instinctively flexing at his side. You threw your dress at him, the fabric hitting him in the face as you took another step back. It fell to the ground at his feet and you lifted a hand to motion him to follow you. 

There's power in it; in coaxing him forward, in his bright eyes that begged you, in his outstretched hand that hesitated just before he touched you because he knew you told him he couldn't. And you yearned for that power. You needed it to anchor you and he knew that. 

You led him backward to the edge of the trees, the knowledge that a pond was just on the other side. He followed you, two steps behind as if you would scold him for getting closer, or maybe he would break your rules if temptation was so close. You could tell John was getting restless, pent up as the rules stopped him from what he wanted to do. The delayed gratification far too delayed for his liking. 

You stopped right at the edge before the clearing and John stepped directly in front of you, his nose almost touching yours and his whiskey breath on your lips. 

"You've been a soldier," you challenged as you practically breathed his air. 

You weren't sure whether it was the whiskey on his breath or the surge you got from making him listen, but you felt drunk, tipsy with lust. You couldn't see his eyes in the dark, hidden under his cap, and it annoyed you that his mouth was parted, panting for you, but you couldn't see his blown out pupils. You needed more.

"You follow Tommy's orders without so much as a blink," you taunted as you ran your hand up his arm, your fingers danced along his chest before you smacked his cap off of his head. 

John didn't move as his cap flied off his head. Energy rolled off of him thick as the air before a storm breaks. You looked into his eyes, searching for an ounce of challenge, a modicum of his ever-present authority issues, but you found nothing but want. 

He sat on the edge of your words waiting for an order, a way to please you, to make you happy. A way to close the gap. 

"You say you want me, John," you whispered and leaned into him, dragging your lips up his neck to blow into his ear. "You so sure? I think that pretty thing by the campfire would have already let you between her legs. You'd have her following you around like a lost puppy before the sun rises. Her eyes were following you the entire night. She was green when you kissed me."

He cocked an eyebrow as he leaned away to look down at you, his eyes aflame. 

"Why don't you find her, John?" You pressed. "She'd be a mess for you."

His hand raised, ever so slowly, until it was twitching beside your face. 

"Because I'm a mess for you," he rasped. "Say the word, I'll happily make you scream loud enough to send her to her grave in envy."

You smiled as you stepped back. 

"Take your coat off," you said, "I'll need a place to dry after our dip."

"Our?"

He shrugged his coat off as he followed you to the water's edge and laid his coat just far enough from the bank so the earth beneath it was dry. 

"Would you rather stand on the bank and watch?" You teased as you kicked off your boots. "Then stand there like a good boy."

You walked backward in the water, knowing the cold water would make your slip translucent. You gasped as the water reached your hips and you splashed at John, his jaw locked as he watched you submerge yourself. You reached up, holding your hair above the water as you dipped to your shoulders and a growl rumbled from the shoreline like thunder. 

"I'm growing tired of your games, love," he rumbled. 

"Games?" You feigned confusion, stepping forward up into the air. Your slip clung to every curve, every last inch of your cold skin, illuminating you in the dark. "What games?"

He groaned, shuffling in place before he went to reach down--

"John Shelby don't you dare," you said as you stepped in front of him and grabbed his wrist. "No one's allowed to touch you but me."

"Let me earn it," he rasped as he twisted to pin your wrist in his grip. He leaned into you, his breath trailing up your neck, your ear, your jawline. "Tell me what you want, love."

You smiled as you reached and he groaned in your hand, the faintest touch a wildfire on his skin. You felt him rigged as you playfully mocked his moan back to him in his ear.

"Make me scream, John."

[buglife]

Perhaps a meeting between Dadmaster and the White Lady?

“Do you think that they might be okay with taking students again?”

Mato thought for a moment, walking beside his child in the restored Royal Gardens. They were just enjoying the quiet sights for a while, when Ghost brought up the possibility of teaching nail arts to the guards and knights of the realm. The question was a surprising one, which for a moment worried the beetle that something may be going on that he wasn't being told about.

“They might be, why do you ask?” He leaned down to look Ghost in the eyes. “Are you worried about something?”

“I just...I can’t be everywhere at once, even as a god.” They admitted, averting their gaze as though ashamed of the fact. “I want my people to be protected, even If I can’t be there. I don’t need protecting, but they do.”

“Well, that’s a fine reason as any.” Mato answered with a reassuring tone to his voice, glad to hear that nothing nefarious was going on. It was just Ghost being Ghost, worried over everyone's safety again. “You indeed can’t be everywhere, and perhaps more people knowing the nail arts would be a boon to the kingdom.”

“I thought so too, but there’s only you, me, Uncle Oro and Sheo, and Grandpa Sly who know how to even teach it. I can’t teach everyone by myself.” They gestured to themselves and their current 'mortal' form. They were certainly not as large as their twin, Hollow, nore were they even tall enough to reach Mato's shoulder. Even being a god, they wouldn't be able to instantly teach a rather intensive and practice heavy technique like the nail arts. It would have to be done the old fashioned way with actual teaching. They were right, they couldn't do it all by themselves. They would need some help.

“Did you ask Sly about this?” Mato thoughtfully replied. “He was the one to teach us, after all. He’d be able to help you for sure.”

Ghost nodded their head. “I asked Grandpa Sly and he said, and I quote, “I trained enough kids, now I want to enjoy my goddamn retirement.”

“Then what did he say when you offered to pay him?” Mato crossed his arms and raised a brow, anticipating the answer.

“Where do I sign?” The void being snorted in amusement, shoulders shaking with the effort to not burst into outright laughter. Mato was not so reserved.

“HAHA! Of course that old miser would!” Mato bellowed a deep belly laugh and slapped Ghost so hard on the back it sent them stumbling a little. In the corner of his eye, he could see the posted guardsmen stiffen at the interaction. “To be honest, I think he also wants to be able to brag about being able to beat up knights and guardsmen all day without getting a treason charge.”

“That and I think Uncle Oro would be down with It too. He’s that kinda guy.” Ghost chirped, eyes now full of mirth. They didn’t seem to mind being bodily hauled around by their father, despite their status as a King. “He likes putting bugs who are a little too full of themselves back in their place, and I saw some of the new applicants. I think he’d do a lot of good here.”

Mato hummed in thought. Oro was very different from the rest of the brothers, and even Sly. He'd need special motivation and he wasn't always swayed by Geo. “What do you have in mind to get him out of his hovel and here in the city?”

“I think he wouldn’t mind if I offered to give him a private candy chef on call that I will employ.” They drummed their claws together, amused by their own cleverness. “I remember that he used to train me in exchange for honey I’d sneak out of the Hive. Imagine what he’d do for whatever sweets his heart desires that could be made on demand?”

“There’s my little tactician! That will get him for sure.” Mato beamed with pride, not like Ghost had to do much to get him to be proud of them to begin with. “Sheo I think might just be too busy with his husband right now for teaching beyond his art school.”

They nodded in response and smiled up at their father, who quickly reached down to give them a gentle noogie. They didn’t bother trying to escape and accepted their affection without so much of a flinch. Good. Mato released them after a chitin crushing hug and set them back on their feet.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He asked softly, deciding to voice the thoughts he was having. It was one thing to feel pride for someone, it was another to let them know that you thought as such.

Ghost nodded, a bit of gray coloring the shell that made up their face, nudging a few pebbles with a foot. “I know, thanks Dad.”

He was about to comment further when a little dragonfly suddenly dropped out of the air and pancaked into the cobble stones below them. Both Nailmaster and King leapt backwards from the sudden noise and movement, drawing their nails together in a smooth motion through instinct alone. Then, when nothing outright attacked them, they took a second look.

It was a messenger to be sure. The dragonfly was wearing a bag and a hat that denoted them as a member of the messenger corps. At first Mato thought that the bug was injured from the crash, but the amount of scrapes and cuts alone couldn’t have been caused by just hitting stone. They wearily reached up to hold out a hemo-stained letter, somewhat reeling from the hit they took, antenna bent and crooked.

“Messenger Stikks, reporting with an urgent message from Kingdom’s edge!” The dragonfly slurred, struggling to focus enough to hold the letter out straight. They closed one eye and narrowed the other, adjusting their grip so that the letter was actually in front of Ghost and not a few feet to the left. “Antlion larvae have dug in from the wastes and they are everywhere!”

Ghost took the letter and read it quickly. Then read it again. They finally put the paper down and sighed, all the humor they had merely seconds ago sucked out by the reality of their station.

“Something the matter, my child? Do you need help?” Mato had yet to release his grip on his great nail, moving the other hand to rest it on their shoulder in an act of comfot.

Ghost shook their head with a huff of annoyance. “This wouldn’t be a problem if the coliseum would have just left the larvae alone. The letter is from the head Fool, apparently they caught a few, which then escaped, and now is tunneling under the arena and is causing sections to collapse on itself. They are requesting aid from me as per our treaty.”

“Well, they are called Fools for a reason.” Mato could only shrug at that. “Even I wouldn’t mess with a doodlebug.”

“...A what?”

“Just a nickname for them.” Mato bent over and picked up the dragonfly. “You alright son?” He looked the bug over. They were kind of smooshed and bent up, but it seemed like they’d be okay after getting some medical attention.

“Aye aye, sir!” The dragonfly saluted and missed, causing them to punch themselves in the head with a CRACK.

Mato was then holding a completely unconscious bug. He winced and waved over a guard, handing the poor bug over to be taken to the nearest doctor. Ghost was trying to not laugh, obviously feeling bad for the poor bug, but Mato had to admit it was kind of funny.

“You sure you don’t need help, Ghost?” Mato asked again, once the guard and dragonfly were gone. He focused hard with his dad powers to determine if Ghost was going to tell the truth. God King or not, they were still his kid and he’d be damned if he let them run off and get themselves hurt.

They shook their head. “No Dad, I will be fine. I’ll just have to pull out the larvae and then set them loose out in the wastes. Nobody else has to get hurt today.”

He nodded. “As long as you’ll be okay. I trust you to know your own limits.”

“I will.” They tilted their head up in a smile. “Feel free to wander around for a bit, I’ll be back soon and we can meet up with Quirrel and Hollow later for dinner.”

“Sounds good to me, come back safe.” He gave them a short hug and a pat to the back.

They nodded and stepped back, suddenly dissolving into liquified void, seeping into the stonework and vanishing from view. It was a very blink and you miss it type action for sure. Teleporting was different from bug to bug, but Ghost sure did know how to make and exit when they needed to make one quick. Soon the last bits of excess void evaporated and not a single trace was left behind that the King was even standing there. Well, with nothing else to do but wait, he decided to take their advice and take a look around. After the palace was built over top of the old one, the gardens were also revitalized. A lot of work had been put into the place and once things were green and blooming again, it was opened up for the public. It was fairly peaceful and offered a lot of nice spots to simply sit and reflect should one want to.

He decided that perhaps the best thing to do was to find such a spot and meditate for a while. Ghost had given him quite a bit of information to consider. The idea of teaching the nail arts to the next generation of warriors was a interesting one and he wasn’t quite sure how to implement such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a school would have to be made. He’d have to talk to his own father and brothers as well about it. Perhaps a solution would come to him once he emptied his mind for a while.

He walked around gardens, looking for a quiet spot for Ghost to find him later, when he was stopped by a sight that made him question his vision. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, but he still saw the same figure that used to be everywhere before the infection began.

The White Lady sat on a stone bench, idlily watering a patch of flowers using a simple watering can. Mato could see no finery on her or any mark of a station beyond a civilian on her person. She was dressed simply in white robes, the roots on her head curled up and branching outwards in a mess of tiny white leaves and petals. She didn’t seem to notice him, giving the flowers on the ground a drink as she hummed to herself, her eyes closed in either thought or contentment.

To be honest, it Mato didn’t quite know what to think at first. Most of the citizens of Hallownest gave little thought to their previous Queen. Before Hollow was even locked into the temple, she had fled her people and her home to wall herself within her personal gardens, taking one of the great knights with her. When it was clear that Hollow wasn’t going to be able to hold back the wrath of the Radiance, the King also fled, abandoning the kingdom to their fate. Most remembered this, and cared little about the fates of the rulers who vanished during the kingdom’s darkest hour, leaving the common bug to fend for themselves with no leadership and no help.

They weren’t remembered fondly, regulated to history books and a cautionary tales of pride and cowardice.

It was only years of training that kept him from fully succumbing to rage. How dare she! How dare she sit here all pretty in the palace gardens, like she never allowed the king to murder their own children and abandoned every bug that looked up to her when things didn’t work out perfectly? The same lady who annexed an entire section of another people’s land for her own personal gardens? The same Lady that sat a scant few meters away from the home of those she most hurt?

And why was she here? From what he understood, Ghost did not like her one bit. Even gentle and sweet Hollow only recalled moments with her to be painful and refused to further elaborate on the matter. He got most of the story from Ghost, and what he heard made him livid. He often wondered what he would say to the former king and queen should he meet them again, and now he was being presented with such an opportunity.

He took a few deep breaths. As far as he knew, she was no longer his Queen nor any sort of authority over him anymore. He would get a few answers, no, he demanded them.

He approached her, no longer masking the noise of his movements as his boots crunched a few discarded dead leaves. She paused in her humming and turned her face to fix her startling blue eyes on him. Mato stared back, unafraid and resolute. She balked slightly from the force of his stare, but composed herself by sitting up and gently smiling down on him.

“Hello.” She said, her voice soft and whispery, like a breeze through the leaves of a willow tree. “How can I help you?”

“What are you doing here.” Mato demanded. The question was short and very much to the point.

“Me? Well, my child-”

“They are not your child.” Mato hissed, cutting off her words with an enraged snarl. “You don’t get to call them that, not after what you and the pale bastard  did to them!”

She seemed taken aback for a moment, narrowing her eyes as her roots shuddered, before she seemed to slump into herself. She turned her head away for a moment, taking in an audible breath as she turned it back to glance back at the Nailmaster. “You act as if I don’t regret what we were forced to do.”

“You always had a choice.” Mato countered. “You could have done anything other than let thousands of your children lay dead at the bottom of the abyss. Have you even gone down there to see them? Offer some sort of rites like any parent would do for their deceased children?”

“It does not matter, Ghost has-”

“King  Ghost.” He once again corrected her. Only family got to refer to them by their name alone and fiercely guarded such a privilege. Especially since they had to pick their own name. The Lady and the King didn't even feel it fitting to give them something as simple as a name.

“Yes." She sighed, "King Ghost has informed me that their siblings besides Hollow now reside within the void... at rest, which is now a part of them. Empty rites and platitudes will not bring them back, nor erase what I have...what we have done.”

Mato stared at her for a moment, scanning her face and body for any hint of lies or manipulation. To his surprise, he found none, just an old woman who was full of regrets.

“Then why are you here?” He finally spoke and crossed his arms in front of him. “My child obviously knows that you are here, why let you in? You told them to kill their own sibling and take their place in a plan that already failed, just to hold the mad goddess at bay for a scant few more years while you could still hide in the Gardens and play pretend. Why?” He could barely keep the fury from his voice as he spoke. He could see her flinch with each accusation, her eyes blurring with what might be tears, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that was he was saying was impacting her in some way, and he was happy for that at least.

She was silent for a moment, the roots and branches that made up her head curling in on themselves and shuddering slightly. A few leaves and petals dropped to the stones below and rapidly lost their otherworldly shimmer. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

Mato narrowed his eyes behind the hard shell of his mask. “You gottah be shitting me.”

“I speak the truth.” She shifted in her seat so she could face him fully. “All I know, is that one day, King Ghost arrived where I have made my exile. They commanded me to unroot myself. I could sense the brand on them, the pieces of my husband and I that made them, and the spark of a higher power, so I obeyed. It took time to unroot myself, but once I did they commanded me to unbind myself and to come with them.” She paused a moment to look up, as thought remembering a feeling or a snippet of a memory. “I had diminished myself, made myself weak. I could no longer see, so they commanded that I reside here to recover. I did so, and when I saw them for the first time I was astonished and humbled. I had believed that perhaps that they would take revenge and have me executed or banish me to the wastes, but... they did not. Instead, they told me that I will do what I was meant to do and I was not permitted to run away again.”

Mato was silent, listening as the White Lady spoke, watching her face as it went through a range of emotions. Regret, bitterness, elation, joy, shame...all flickered through her pale face and shimmering eyes.

“My sentence was to bring life back to the kingdom, as it was my duty long before the Pale Wyrm even chose Hallownest to rebirth himself in. I would, as they put it, ‘have to clean up my mess’ and I have been doing as such.”

“I did notice everything get greener.” Mato muttered. He had noticed the yields from the farms were also quite abundant and rich. The kingdom should have gone through a period of famine as they rebuilt, but there was food. Nothing refined at the beginning, but nobody went hungry. “Was that you?”

She nodded, serene as she put her watering can to the side. She lifted one of her roots from the ground, leaving a neat little hole that she dropped a single seed into. “Yes, I am a goddess of life and fertility, it brings me joy to know that life has begun anew.”

“Are you a prisoner here, then?” He looked, but saw no chains, no shackles, and not even the delicate weave of spells or magic. Nothing that could force her to stay here.

“Goodness no.” She shook her head, eyes curled up in slight amusement. “There is not a place I could run that my ch….my king could not find me. Nore do I expect that they are such a god to begin with. I am here as they said, to clean up my own mess. Nothing more, and nothing less. I have been given my own home here.” She gestured to a cottage nestled in among the trees, just barely out of sight, most likely for her own privacy. “I have no need to leave, nore am I under duress. I simply am.”

Mato’s rage was beginning to cool somewhat. From what he understood, his child had decided to grow beyond the pettiness and childish ways of the former higher powers, and instead, enact rather wise and mature decisions. With a start, he realized that he may have had a hand in that decision. He thought back to a moment, a scant couple years ago when rebuilding hasn’t even started yet.

“Dad?” Ghost asked. They had just had their first molt, resting their now slightly bigger body against their twin sibling. Hollow was in bed, their head and body haven just gotten new fresh bandages. It had been only a bare few months after the death of the Radiance, and Ghost had had some time to sit and think about their situation.

Of course both of the void siblings were a mess after the final battle, and Mato had commandeered an empty home in Dirtmouth to care for them both. Herrah had awoken from her slumber and was there to care for Hornet, but she had Deepnest to restore. Hornet jumped back and forth between both homes, bringing honey from the Hive and silken bandages in the effort to bring Hollow back to some semblance of wellness.

“Yes, my child?” Mato had adopted Hollow instantly, the poor injured bug still was very much a child despite being the tallest bug they’ve ever seen. He coaxed Hollow into opening their mouth and letting him stick another spoonful of light broth inside. He patted them gently when they did, helping them get ready for the next spoonful.

“How did you learn to forgive Uncle Oro?” Ghost was staring at their new set of arms, clenching and unclenching their hands. They tripped over their new telepathy a few times, but they were able to be understood. Mato stayed steady enough to get another spoon of sustenance in his largest child, but was quite surprised by the question.

“That’s quite a question, Ghost. What suddenly brought this on?”

Ghost was silent for a few moments and Mato gave them time to get their thoughts together. Hollow tried a chirp of encouragement, but Mato tapped them on the snoot. No chirping, only soup for the moment. They harrumphed and took another spoonful, which earned them a nice rub to sooth the healing cracks in their face.

“Uncle Oro hurt you and Uncle Sheo, really bad.” Ghost started. “But now, you are all okay again. How did that happen? What do you do when someone hurts you, but you don’t want to be hurt by them anymore?”

Ah, there it was. No doubt this had something to do with the sibling’s awful, awful parents. He didn’t want to accidentally poison his child with his own bad memories, nor the awfulness of why the situation actually happened in the first place. Instead, he decided to be completely honest.

“Well, Sheo and I were hurt, yes. We took space for ourselves to sort out our feelings. By then, the infection was in full swing and we didn’t know how the other was doing. When you let us know that all three of us were still alive, that’s when we knew there was a chance.”

Ghost looked up, tilting their head backwards so they didn’t have to get up from where they where lounging. “A chance?”

“Yes, the only time a chance to fix something between someone is gone, is when they are gone themselves. When we realized that we were all still alive, I knew that a chance still existed to get my brothers back.”

Ghost nodded, listening closely. Hollow subtly curved their head to listen as well, and Mato suddenly found himself with the full undivided attention of two children. He would have to choose his words carefully

“So, a few weeks ago, we both went to see Oro, and we talked. We talked about how we hurt each other. We talked about how we were sorry. We talked about how we can improve ourselves and move on. In the end, we decided to give each other a chance again, at least for one last time. Obviously, Oro wanted to be back with us again, because we worked it all out. We missed each other a lot, so I found that we could forgive each other and start again.”

“Uncle Oro is still really grumpy though…” Ghost added as an after thought.

“Oro was always a grumpy little bastard, that hasn’t changed.” Mato laughed. “ What changed however, is that we realized what we all did to cause the problem in the first place, and apologized. Now it’s just letting time go by to heal the wounds and give everyone a fresh chance again.”

“That’s it? Just time and a chance?” Ghost tilted their head to the side, eye’s narrow as they did their best to grasp the concept. Hollow moved their head just enough to give their smaller sibling a nuzzle. Ghost sighed and shifted so that they could hug Hollow back with nuzzle of their own, melting into the cuddle pile.

“If you think they are worthy of a second chance, than yeah. If not, than don’t give them a third.” Mato stopped assaulting Hollow with soup for the moment, letting them have a bit of a break for a cuddle. He took the time to look over the bandaged socket where their left arm used to be. He’ll have to ask Sheo and Smith if they could do something about that. "It's up to you to even consider giving that chance. If you don't want to, nobody is going to blame you for that. It's your decision alone and nobody can force you to do otherwise." He waggled the spoon at Ghost to further get his point across, as well as a subtle unspoken 'I will beat anyone who tells you otherwise with this spoon'.

“Thanks, Father.” Ghost looked up, eyes shining with resolve. “I think I know what to do now.

“They are giving you a second chance.” Mato spoke aloud once he finished with his memory, startling the White Lady with the suddenness of his voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t..” She looked confused by it all, looking Mato up and down as though he suddenly went crazy.

“They are giving you a second chance to be in their life. Both theirs and Hollows.” Mato’s voice took on a hard edge again as he pointed to her. “They are deciding if you are going to hurt them again, as they are not going to give you a third chance.”

“You mean...they’d want me to be…” her eyes widened and glistened with moisture, speaking some delicate hope that still resided within her. Mato knew he could never understand her particular pain, nore did he feel like she even deserved to have that hope after all this time, but that was not his decision to make.

“I don’t think they want you as their mother.” Mato took no joy over crushing that bit of hope, but she needed to know the truth. “After all this time, I don’t think they can let you be that intimate with them, at least for a very long time. Of course I’m speaking of Ghost, not Hollow. But for Ghost, I would shoot for just being a friend, someone they can trust again. Maybe it can evolve into something else besides that, but who knows what the future can hold."

"It is clear that you do not like me, or approve of my presence here at all. So why tell me this?" She bent her head down to regard Mato as though searching for the punchline to a cruel joke.

"Because it's the truth, and yes, I don't like you one bit, but the ones Ghost choose to be in their life is not up to me. If they want to give you a chance along with Hollow, than so be it. It's their life, not mine. BUT..." He stopped slouching and pulled himself up to his full height. "If you hurt them again, either of them, I will make you regret that. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I do."

"Good, then we have nothing more to discuss." He turned on his heel and left, not even giving her a wayward glance as he left her behind. He could have dragged more answers from her for sure. Even if they only needed one vessel for the plan, they could have taking in the 'rejected' ones and cared for them. Was she even there when the selection was taken place? Did she also leave Ghost to fell back into the abyss, never to see light again for years, maybe decades? Too many questions, and he doubted he'd get satisfying answers to any of them. Perhaps for now, it was best to let it go. Ghost or Hollow will bring it up on their own time and he would do what he always did, be there when they needed it. He loved them, even if it was later in their lives than he wanted it to be.

He wished he could have been there from the beginning. How different would they have turned out if he could have scooped them up at their hatching and carried them away to raise and love? All of them, not just those two, every single cracked shell in the abyss belonged to an individual child. He didn't know how, but he figured he'd have enough love for them all if needed. Perhaps he was feeling jealous that she could have had that, but chose to throw it and her own children away instead.

Too many feeling and not enough answers. He needed to get some meditation done and sort himself out before Ghost came to find him again. It wouldn't do for them to see him angry and conflicted like he was. He marched along until he found a nice, quiet section of the gardens and sat. He folded his legs under himself and let his cloak fall around him, emptying his mind and falling deep into the calming waves of meditation. He let the feelings come and wash over him, letting himself experience them without becoming consumed. The memories and the experiences were neatly sorted as he pulled himself together where he'd be able to experience them again should he wish to. Soon, there was nothing but calm. Everything was in it's right place and Mato let himself drift away into the nothingness and soothe his heart.

He started back into reality when he felt a tug on his cloak. He instinctively looked down where he expected a tiny void creature to be tugging on his cloak, looking for hugs. When he didn't see them down there, he looked up to see his grown child tugging on his cloak, eyes curled up in amusement.

"Hey Dad," they said with a giggle. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm back."

"That you are." Mato replied with a 'smile' of his own, standing up to stretch. He must have been sitting for a while, as his legs began to buzz with pins and needles as he worked the numbness out. "How did it go?"

"Well. The larvae were moved with no more injuries. The Fools will have to fix their own coliseum, since it was their fault it got damaged in the first place." Ghost giggled again, something amusing must have happened, and no doubt they were saving it for dinner later.

"Let me guess, there's more too that?"

They nodded, vibrating slightly. "Yes, but I want Quirrel and Hollow to hear it too. They'll get a kick out of it and you'd spoil it if I told you now."

"Then let's not keep them waiting." Mato mock bowed. "After you, your majesty."

"Dadddd noooo." They waved their hands around, trying to get him to stand again. "That's embarrassing! Monomon doesn't do that!"

"She isn't allowed to bow because it gives her cover to get smoke bombs out of her veil without getting caught." He countered with a laugh.

Ghost just sighed dramatically and grabbed his hand, dragging him off towards the palace where dinner and company awaited. Mato found that he couldn't stop laughing, letting his child drag him around just for the fact that he could.

It was then he realized that he pitied the White Lady. All these little moments she willfully gave up, never to experience it for the foreseeable future. It struck him as very sad that she would give up such a thing, but he decided there was no use in trying to understand why.

After all, he would be too busy coming up with ways to spoil his own children, and that thought would consume most of his days, as It should be.

---

Heyo another request down!!! Next up will be SIBLING DAY!!!

Also antlion larvae are terrifying, but the fact that they have 'doodlebugs' as their nickname is strangely endearing.

I feel neutral about the white lady. Yes she willfully participated in the plan and no in no way innocent, but boy did she make herself suffer for it. Hence here, Ghost gave her a chance to just be who she was before, just god doing god things, without having to balance a kingdom. She just has to help clean up the mess she left her kids to deal with and can't run away when the going gets tough again. To be honest, I feel like she's a lot happier now to just have her nice little private cabin in the gardens with no royal responsibilities and the hope that one day she may have more than a professional relationship with Ghost and Hollow.

Hollow knows she is there, but is working through their own feelings before they decide on what to do about it. They love her so much but remembers the pain in being constantly rejected and treated as though they were already dead by her. It's complicated, but there are therapists in the kingdom now and that will help over time.

[sooibian]

The Spy Who Loved Me

gif credits @byunvoyage​

Pairing: Spy!Baekhyun x Assassin!Reader ft. Chen, Chanyeol

Description: It’s an obsessive cat and mouse chase

Themes: Dark comedy, angst, heavily inspired by season one of Killing Eve

Warnings: Violence, strong language

Word Count: ~2.8k

A/N: This one-shot comes during a very busy season for me so if you can make time for feedback, I’d be very grateful. Thanks :)

———————————————————————–

It’s the way light escapes their eyes.

Fear. Despair. Hope. Then…nothing.

They hope to be spared. I have a family…what about my children…please…why are you doing this to me…. The utterly foolish ones even offer you money. This imbecility makes the corners of your mouth curl upwards - especially when they’re out of breath from running or begging or whatever it is that gets their heart rate up. Eh. Factor in some cardio before dissolving into a permanent state of slumber, maybe? Poor things always mistake the twitch of your lips for impending clemency…what they don’t know is that it’s always been the breathy ones that peak your excitement.

There’s not a single hit you’ve regretted.

Mostly because you don’t bother with the futility of why. They give you a name and you jet off. To you, it’s really a fun job involving travel, costumes, languages, a hefty allowance, sticking pointy objects in the right places and theatrics. You’re not one to just do your job and slip away quietly. No arterial air embolisms, no unidentifiable fumes or poisons. No boring and discreet.  Where’s the fun in that? Flamboyant is your middle name. Every assassination is a heroi-comical poem for you - killing an asthamatic nez with a fatal concoction of perfume or a feeble-hearted fetishist with clamps that turned out to be a wee bit too intense for him.

You’re good at this. No, infact, you’re the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever  will be.

“The NIS has deployed a team of four to hunt you down because of the mess you left in Beijing. So you’ll be working with a team now. No more flying solo.” Your handler Chen says nonchalantly. 

Shit.

Beijing. “Make it look like a suicide”, had been the directive. The assignment Kasia had been put under witness protection after you’d murdered her mafia boyfriend. She was in a hospital - injured and deranged from the shock of it all, watched over by armed men. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and the security detail bloodbath was, well, collateral damage.

You saunter towards Chen with an intentional swing in your hips, a pout on your lips. You sit a little too close to the astute man, almost purring with seduction, “NIS, you say. Give me a name." 

“Byun Baekhyun.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he stealthily adds a foot long distance between the both of you.

“Never heard of him”, you say neutrally, gliding closer to his stoic form.

“He was a security officer before this. A nobody. In fact, he was fired right after the Kasia debacle in Beijing. She was his responsibility.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gets up on the pretext of fetching a glass of water.

“Why the sudden promotion, then?”

“A change of jobs. He’s heading a team…Operation Jinseong, they call themselves. Apparently, he’s the only one who believed that the murders have all been executed by a woman. If they can get to you, they can get to them. The organization. This conjecture has seemed to have impressed a higher up. After firing him, they swept his computer and found hoards of theories and all the intelligence he could gather about the faceless demon that’s actually…you. An insider thinks he’s fascinated. And a little cuckoo.” Chen’s laughter is throaty and taunting. 

He takes a sip of water and places the glass carefully on the counter, eyeing you the entire time. Chen. It’s a nom de plume. He’s a ghost - a shadow of a shadow, if you will. You know nothing about Chen but you know better than to snoop around. He’s always been affable yet distant, but he has this maddening habit of scrutinizing people. The changes in the expression, the dilation of the pupils. The man doesn’t miss a beat. And he stares unapologetically. You wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. You wonder how he feels. Disgusted? Lustful? Terrified?

He wants to know everything that’s behind those vacant eyes. With him, you feel disrobed.

“You’re only as good as your last”, he says finally, in his threateningly soft voice, thrusting a thumb drive into your hand. But you don’t feel threatened. The truth is, you feel nothing at all.

He’s at the door when you exclaim, “You never have sex with me!” Feigning annoyance.

He laughs and states matter -of-factly, “I’m married”, before closing the door behind him.

Like that’s ever stopped a man before.

***

Byun Baekhyun.

You search the thumb drive and a fresh faced man with luminous eyes smiles at you from the screen. His arm is wrapped around a slender, honey-skinned woman with big hair and big teeth. They look like an advertisement for home buyers.

A wave of recognition floods your mind.

He was there. 

He was there at the Beijing scene. The beautiful man who helped you with the coffee maker in the hospital. The very same coffee you doused barista Kasia with. 

There’s an inexplicable swell in your chest.

.

.

.

You’re no team player.

The undertaking with your ex and her boyfriend didn’t go as planned. Chen should’ve known. 

After a disagreement, you instigated her to off him, your shin getting injured in the scuffle. Then you ran her over with the jeep - once, twice. The third time was just to be sure. This commotion affected the escape of the NIS Agent you were after.

The mole that ratted out Baekhyun’s Operation Jinseong. 

The murders of your “colleagues” you could manage to explain - you’d tailored them to look like accidents. However, the assignment’s escape was sure to reflect poorly on you.

You’re only as good as your last.

The Agent scurries across a field of dead grass towards the feeder road, putting considerable distance between him and an injured you, where someone sat waiting anxiously in the driver’s seat.

Oh, Baekhyun…

It’s the first time you look into each other’s eyes, the moment stretching between you. It is like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper. With the wind in your hair, the world at your feet but in this space exists trepidation. A fear of falling.

Your gun wielding arm suddenly feels too heavy and your legs threaten to give up on you. Your heart rate escalates as the hot embers of his gaze gloss over the stretch of your skin. 

The mole slips into the backseat of Baekhyun’s compact Kia Morning as you continue to take aimless shots at his vitals - eyes still intertwined with Baekhyun’s. 

What good was a mole to the NIS?, you wanted to ask. Especially one that looked like a sewer rat.

You were only doing them a favour.

Aiming the gun at Baekhyun, you fire, only to realize he isn’t fearful or panicky. On the contrary, there is a sense of purpose in his eyes as well as something you could only identify as a glimmer. A spark. 

Even from a twenty foot distance you can tell Byun Baekhyun is in awe of you.

This…thing…this electricity surges through your veins and you sprint towards your jeep - as fast as your good leg could carry you. 

Oops. You didn’t mean to run over her for the fourth time.

***

Reverse. Acceleration. A few well thought out turns and your jeep is hardly a hundred meters behind Baekhyun’s car. You continue to fire and he continues to dart, swerve, sidestep. A good driver.

Suddenly, his car comes to a screeching halt.

He steps out of his vehicle amidst shrill cries of protest from the mole in the backseat and you follow suit.

Weaponless, crouched, he inches towards the gun pointed at him. 

“I mean no harm”, despite his scared posture, his voice is confrontational. “Leave the man alone. He has a little girl.”

Oh, Baekhyun…

You smile at him. He smiles back.

A genuine smile. Like the one your father used to give you when he saw you relishing ice-cream as…a little girl.

In a flash, you aim the nozzle at your temple and Baekhyun cries out a loud, pained, “NO!”

Laughing, you lower the gun and fire at his feet. He ducks. 

You vanish.

.

.

.

It was exhilarating to use the alias ``Mrs. Byun ” for your next job especially since the man and his giant partner have been on your tail for three months now. 

But, maybe, you shouldn’t’ve stolen Baekhyun’s luggage as soon as he landed in Tokyo to investigate the mysterious death of a Chinese colonel. He and his team knew perfectly well whodunnit. But one can’t bring faceless demons to book now, can they?

Who knows how this easily distracted giant of a man is supposed to protect Baekhyun if it should ever come to it. He couldn’t even watch his luggage for a measly five minutes.

***

You watch Baekhyun and the giant from your apartment overlooking the crime scene. He looks frazzled and the giant slightly apologetic. ‘You’ll have your bag back soon, baby’, you whisper, sucking on a bubblegum flavoured lollipop.

Thirty minutes roll by and the investigation seems to be heading nowhere. Bored out of your wits, you slump into your bed and toy with the contents of Baekhyun’s bag - shirts, slacks, underwear, toiletries.

Dull, tedious, and soul-destroyingly unimaginative. 

Save for one green scarf. 

In a sea of monotones, the scarf stands out. Demanding attention. Fluttering your eyes shut, you slowly bury your face in it - your senses entirely enveloped in his heady scent. 

***

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that scarf from?”

Day two in Tokyo. You’ve been following Baekhyun (and, by extension, Chanyeol). Studying him. It was like adopting Chen’s personality. Apart from the occasional loud laughter, his demeanour, you learn, is self-effacing, gracious, and polite. He’s a picky eater who only eats to live and not the other way round. He’s also very observant and intuitive. But not enough to know that he’s being watched. 

Also, he’s thinking. Constantly. He’s thinking about you. 

“Excuse me?”

Chanyeol asks again - large, deep brown eyes focused on your neck trying to stop you from getting onto the same train as Baekhyun. 

Very subtle.

“It’s from my mother’s store. I could give you the address if you like”, smiling, you crane your neck to look into his disturbed eyes as you both pretend not to know each other amidst a swarm of dog-tired people on the platform at six in the evening.

You slip into the crowd but the oaf chooses to follow.

What does he think he’s doing following an assassin through a strange city! Unarmed.

Forty minutes elapse and he continues to chase you through the streets of Tokyo, keeping up with your brisk pace. With your easy charm, you breeze into the club called Camelot and wave Chanyeol goodbye as he’s stopped by the bouncer and sent to the back of the line. His eyes are dark with a murderous rage.

The club is loud, dark…stuffy - the air thick with over-the-counter happiness. Definitely not to your taste but you stay to give Chanyeol a head start. He’s pissed you off and he’ll pay for it later. Not today. 

You really didn’t want to upset a tired Baekhyun. At least not until you feel a beefy hand weigh down your shoulder.

“I didn’t want to do this”, you rise on your tippy toes and whisper into his ear before sticking a short blade into the side of his stomach. He’s heaving as you stare into his round, childlike, startled eyes while supporting his stumbling weight and stabbing him repeatedly until he finally collapses.

You leave him to bleed out on the dance floor and on your way out, you grab the arm of a medium-built man, your blood-dipped, glistening lips stretched into a lascivious smile.

“Let’s put you in a costume first”, you say to the unassuming moron, excitably thinking of Baekhyun’s dull shirts.

.

.

.

Grief draws people closer, your grandmother used to say, every time someone died of sickness in that impoverished little village of yours.

Baekhyun’s grieving the oaf who was slowing him down. He’s looking for company. So..he’s snooping. 

He’s in your apartment.

The “trusting old lady” - your next door neighbour, who actually works for the same organization as you handed him the key exactly as instructed. You’d been expecting him, this meeting was long overdue. But you wait in the cute little French cafe just around the corner - watching him scout out your apartment through your phone, while devouring a Charlotte Russe cake - dressed pretty in a flouncy pink dress.

He’s careful not to make a squeak. Walking on tippy toes, running his beautifully slender fingers along the drapes, the furniture, the walls as he goes. Your skin tingles all over. Oh, how you wish to be a piece of furniture in the moment. Only Baekhyun could make you want to be something muted and inanimate. Furniture, mattress, drapes.

He saunters slowly to your blackwood Georgian cupboard. The one you use for your wigs, costumes, weapons, and his own green scarf. He wears the scarf around his neck, ruffles the costumes but he’s gentle with the wigs. Stroking and caressing. 

From the drawer he picks out a .38 and shoves it in his waistband. Right behind his hip bone.

Oh, Baekhyun…

Pretty boys and their dangerous toys.

He finds himself in the kitchen. The revolver seems to have straightened his spine and suffused his step with a very welcome spring. Mi casa es su casa. 

In the fridge he finds exactly what he’s supposed to. No food. Only a dozen bottles of celebratory champagne of the best kind. What comes next from him is a scornful snicker which fills your mouth with a bitter taste. The Charlotte Russe doesn’t look very appetizing anymore. He draws a bottle out of the fridge, studies it and smashes it onto the floor. Then another, then another until all the bottles are reduced to shattered glass dripping in gold strewn across your kitchen floor.

Playtime is over, Baekhyun.

You make a run for your apartment.

***

He’s exhausted. 

Breathless, air tousled, shirt crumpled, eyes droopy, beads of sweat lined across his forehead and upper lip - standing clueless, smack-dab in the middle of the mess he’s made - clothes torn off their hangers, furniture overturned. You can’t recognize your upscale Seoul apartment anymore. Careful around the glass, you make your way towards his still frame, withdraw the weapon from his light, jaded grasp. 

You take his hand in yours and lead him to your bedroom - which is entirely ransacked just like the rest of your house. Save for the bed.

He lies down on his back and his first words are, “God, I’m tired.”

“Me too”, you say, as you lie facing him, “Are you wearing the cologne I gave you?”

You’d sent him a bottle of cologne along with the bag you had nicked in Tokyo, as a token of appreciation. It was handcrafted to smell like power.

He hums, turning to the side to face you, nestling into the depths of your irises.

“Are you going to kill me?” He asks, eyeing the revolver in your hand.

Your heart falls to pieces at the ache in his voice.

“No”, you say simply, tossing it to the side.

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Relief ripples across his soft, boyish features smoothing the lines of worry as it goes.

“You’re all I think about”, he says, studying your face. And you’re left wondering yet again, about his thoughts. His feelings.

“So you trash my apartment?” You sound as gentle as you can. But if you’re honest, you don’t even have to try that hard.

“I lost my job, my partner, my wife left me, and I even lost my sanity because of you.”

With his dulcet touch, he traces along the edge of your lips.

“Fair enough. I think about you too. I mean, I to you masturbate a lot.” You say as your thumb rubs his cheek lightly.

He lets out a loud, embarrassed giggle that makes him look a decade younger.

“Too much?” You ask, apprehensively.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

And with that you’re both inching closer to each other, like magnets.

Baekhyun’s soft gaze darkens and simultaneously you feel something sharp poking at your stomach.

“You can’t do it”, you wrap your hand around the blade, almost mocking him. He’s too nice for something this abominable.

“I can”, he whispers, his eyes still nestled in yours, as he plunges the blade deeper, tearing you apart. 

He places a chaste, soft kiss on your forehead.

Fear. Despair. Hope.

“Sorry, baby.” 

Continuation - My Lovable Curse

[justnerdthings]

Never Again Ch. 10

Female OC x Raiden/Shang Tsung

Ooooh shiiiit!

@shang-hung @mammondaughter

A low, menacing laugh filled the Chamber, echoing off the stone walls. Fujin’s glowing blue eyes were sternly on Shinnok’s bound form. Fujin’s arms glowed with his tattoos in the dark chamber.

“You think I will help you?” Shinnok laughed despite his agony.

“I do,” Fujin answered, keeping his distance. “You’re weak, Shinnok.”

Shinnok scoffed, his head lolling to the side. His white eyes scanned the chamber and the history that decorated it. He scowled. “Who is your interior decorator?”

“What did you do to Helena?” Fujin asked, staying focused. He knew how Shinnok worked. Manipulation. As long as Fujin stayed focused, everything would be fine.

Shinnok’s brow hitched. Slowly, he raised his head to look back at the lesser god. A smirk played on his decaying lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fujin let out a frustrated sigh. “What did you do, Shinnok?”

Shinnok feigned surprise. His brows rose. “Me? Nothing! How could I when you and Raiden have kept me locked up for—” He paused, pondering. “How long has it been?” He asked curiously.

“Not long enough,” Fujin quipped.

Shinnok made a noise of annoyance and defeat. “What makes you think I had anything to do with Helena?”

“No one else would love to see the chaos that releasing her could cause.”

Shinnok smirked. “She certainly is a perfect little toy.” Fujin felt his chest tighten. Was that a confession? Was Shinnok behind all of this? “Ah, you are worried for her?” Shinnok teased, then laughed. “She is nothing.”

“She is not nothing,” Fujin protested, eyes narrowing.

“She is a mere mortal!” Shinnok argued. “An interesting one, but still only a small pawn.”

“A pawn?”

Shinnok chuckled. “Tell me, Fujin. How has Raiden been?”

“Let Helena go.”

“Oh! But you didn’t say ‘please’!”

Fujin’s brows knotted in impatience.

Shinnok chuckled again. “Why would I ever let her go?”

“Once I tell Raiden about your involvement, I believe you might wish for a true death.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “My dear, Fujin, you can not kill what is already dead.”

“You aren’t dead.”

“I AM DEATH!” Shinnok declared with a booming voice. Fujin’s demeanor faltered for a moment in bewilderment. “Despite being locked away in my amulet, I still have ways of causing destruction to your precious little Earthrealm. I could have taken Helena from Raiden far before she rotted away in those catacombs. But once she was locked away and forgotten, she was so weak. It was too easy.” Shinnok’s words were dripping with venom. “She had been so thankful that I came to release her,” he told Fujin. Shinnok smirked. “I had given her a choice. She could simply die and go to Netherrealm, or…”

“Or what?” Fujin stepped closer, he could feel his blood boil.

Shinnok’s menacing laugh filled the chamber again.

“Or what?!” Fujin demanded.

“Where do you think she learned to enthrall?”

Fujin’s brows deepened in their knot. What did he mean— The mouse! Raiden said he had spotted a mouse with blood red eyes while they had been sparring. It was the last thing Raiden remembered before Helena had captured his mind. She had controlled his dream. Fujin felt his heart drop. “No…”

Shinnok lolled his head again and laughed wickedly.

---

Helena sat with Shang on a stone bench, overlooking the beach as the waves crashed against the menacing rocks of the shore. Helena was lost in thoughts and memories of her former life. She had been so happy then, so full of hope for the future… until she asked Raiden for something that she had been wanting for such a long time with him.

A child.

Oh, she wanted that more than anything. Just one would have been enough. Just one… But he had denied her request. It was out of the question. A child of his could cause an upset in the balance of the realms…

The realms. Of course he'd bring the realms into it. Was that all he cared about? His words had cut through Helena like a jagged blade. She had been utterly heartbroken. He'd tried to soothe her. Of course he did. But Helena hadn't wanted to hear his logic. She didn't want to hear what the Elder Gods had wanted. Raiden's efforts to calm her down were an utter failure.

She had prayed to the Elder Gods for their blessing. All she wanted was one child. They did not need to be given godly abilities. She just wanted that symbol of their love…

One of the Elder Gods had heard her prayers, but it wasn’t the one she had expected.

As the tournament grew close, Raiden had spent more of his time away from her. He'd focused on Kung Lao. Helena's fingers curled against the bench as she remembered his face. They had been friends. They had been teammates. He was a wonderful man. But her beloved gave him more attention. First, no child. Then, increasing neglect. Had Raiden grown tired of her? Had he feared she would press him too much? It couldn't have possibly just been to get Kung Lao ready for the tournament. Something else was part of the equation. She refused to believe it was that simple. There had to be something else. But one thing was for sure… Kung Lao had to go. No one was going to get between her and Raiden.

"You're going to break something if you keep that up, my dear," Shang's voice said, pulling her back to reality. She turned her head to give him a bewildered look. He'd pointed down to her hand. Her fingertips were white as she gripped the bench, and she had become aware of the sting surging through her fingers.

Helena took a deep breath as she forced herself to relax and lifted her hand to see tiny spots of red which coated her finger tips. Shang's brow rose as he noticed the small blood stains. Reaching over, he gently took her hand in his. A smile came to his face when he noticed she hadn't protested in the slightest. Lifting his other hand, it glowed a brilliant green before he placed it over hers.

Helena didn't let the obvious attempt of intimacy escape her notice. However, she didn't fight it either. It felt wonderful to be touched again, even with something so small and innocent. Any touch would feel as wonderful.

She didn't have to force herself to relax then. It came naturally.

Her hand buzzed as Shang held it between his two and gently applied a little magic. The stinging in her fingers had faded away. As soon as it had started, it had ended and Shang removed his top hand. Her fingertips had healed completely. He'd turned her hand over carefully and gently brought the back of her hand to his lips.

A pang of need--of longing twisted in her chest. She shifted a bit uncomfortably before he pulled her hand from his lips.

"What troubles you?" He asked, almost purred.

Helena's jaw clenched. How could she feel such things for Shang Tsung… How could she be so starved of affection that she would even consider him. The bond… Surely it had not been severed.

Shang's brows rose curiously with her silence and she took in a sharp breath. "Something is not right," she answered, cautious of her own words.

"Oh?" Shang gripped her hand, but not too tight. "What is it?"

"I do not know," she answered. "I… I miss my beloved."

Shang nodded and let his eyes drift away.

"But I find myself curious to your touch," she added. Shang had looked back to her.

“Allow me to satisfy your curiosity,” he said. He placed his other hand on top of hers again. No magic involved. This time he just held her hand with such care, such adoration, that she felt that little pang in her chest again.

But this was wrong…

She closed her eyes. She turned her head away as she pulled her hand from his.

Shang sighed. Ordinarily, he would simply take what he desired. But he had no intention of forcing, or manipulating Helena.

A flash of lightning caught both of their attention before its roar echoed through the island. Looking into the sky, they could both spot the thunder god hovering above. Helena rose to her feet as a loving smile graced her face--a stark contrast to the frown that was there only seconds ago.

As Raiden lowered himself to the shore, he stood on the edge of the dock and looked with annoyance to the barrier blocking his way. Helena had walked herself down to the dock and to the barrier's wall. She stood only a foot away from him, but it may as well have been an entire realm. He could not touch her.

Helena looked up into her beloved's glowing eyes and instantly recognized the guilt that lurked behind them. She frowned.

"Helena…" Raiden called softly to her. Even his voice held his guilt. Her heart twisted at the sound of it.

"Beloved," She answered as her eyes traced the lines in his face.

"I wish to speak with you," he told her.

Her frown tweaked ever so slightly towards a smile. "Of course, my love."

"Alone."

Her jaw clenched. She watched Raiden's glowing orbs shift in the direction of Shang Tsung, then back to her. A pleading look came to his face.

Helena would not fall for that. If she stepped out from the barrier, he would whisk her away. He may even imprison her again. Of course he would. That is what he had wanted of her. She didn’t move from her spot as she watched his frown deepen. She shook her head.

“Helena,” he pleaded.

“No,” she told him. “I will not be imprisoned again.”

Raiden’s jaw hardened. He supposed she had reason to believe he would lock her away again. He would. He had to. And he had broken her trust. He would have to regain it. To regain it, he would have to make himself vulnerable. Even if Shang Tsung was present…

He bowed his head to her. “I understand,” he said, keeping his voice low and just for her. “I have hurt you. I have damaged our relationship.” He had to stop himself from telling her, once again, that it was the Elder Gods who had called for her imprisonment. He’d been told that would not help him. He’d been told, that saying he had no choice, would not make any of this any better. He dragged in a deep breath as he searched for the words he needed to say… He was not good at this.

“I should have fought for you,” he’d decided on. Which seemed to have been the right words, because Helena’s face softened. It gave him the much needed encouragement to continue. “You are more important to me than anything else. I agreed to that when I gave you my vows. I did not intend for them to conflict with my duties as a protector of Earthrealm. I… I made a mistake,” he admitted.

Helena’s brows knotted with his confession. What did he mean by ‘mistake?’ She felt her heart sink at the idea of herself being the mistake.

Raiden could sense her sudden fear. He moved to take a step towards her, but was stopped by the barrier. He heaved a helpless sigh. “You are not the mistake,” he clarified. “I should have known that my promise to you would conflict with my duties… I… I should have resigned from them.”

Helena then took a step forward. “You would never resign,” she told him. She knew her beloved well.

His jaw hardened. “No, I would not,” he agreed. “I should have fought for you,” he’d repeated. That’s what made the most sense to him. Instead of letting the Elder Gods condemn her, he should have defended her… Take the fall with her.

That was all she wanted to hear. She’d been waiting four hundred years for him to admit his failure… but forgiveness would not come so easily for her beloved. Four hundred years… “Thank you,” she told him and took a deep breath.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked.

“No,” she answered and watched pain spread through his features. “You remain my beloved. But I can not forgive you.”

“Helena…”

“You will feel my wraith,” she said, closing the distance between herself and the barrier, as close as she could get to him without jeopardizing herself. “You will feel my pain.”

[miserable-pile-of-lies]

The Sleeping Prince of Wallachia Ch. 2 (Full)

Here's the entirety of chapter two in all of its glory, I hope you guys enjoy the small lore that I created regarding Greta!

Summary: Wallachia is in great peril at the behest of Death himself; all those who have attempted to battle the creature have swiftly been executed and made an example of. The key to defeating the beast lies in Dracula's castle, located twenty odd miles out from a small village by the name of Danesti. In this village, the headwoman Greta must act quickly to save her people from the onslaught of attacks by night creatures and other ungodly minions who have sworn their loyalty to Death. Will she alone be able to stop Death or will she require additional aid to save her people and those in Wallachia?

Roasted walnuts indecorously bestrewed the forest floor, being tossed from a perch high above that stretched into the sky. Humming a cheerful tune that foretold the story of Queen Dido, a thirteen-year-old Greta smacked her lips obnoxiously as Marius attempted to scamper away from the branch they sat upon. The young girl hurled an emptied shell of a walnut into the air, given to her by the portly baker Grigore, a Wallachian native that had recently settled in Danesti to toil his goods.

“That isn’t how the founding story of Carthage goes, Queen Dido was bewitched by Cupid’s arrow,” a twelve-year-old Marius moaned wearily at his older friend who crossed her lanky arms unimpressed by the explanation. The Roman boy dug into the pouch that sat between him and his companion, uttering a cry when he felt a pinch twist the doughy skin of his love handles. Offering his finest glare, the adolescent lobbed a walnut at the lass who only ducked backwards in response to the sneak attack with a snigger.

“That cannot be, Prince Aeneas deceptively seduced our founding mother with sweet words only to leave her high and dry in the pursuit of his journey, ultimately courting Princess Lavinia of Italy,” Greta bit out with a scowl as she described the cowardly philanderer that covertly escaped into the night when leaving Carthage at the command of Jupiter. Prince Aeneas went on to become the founding father of Rome, previously recognized as the city of Lavinium when the metropolis was founded by his followers to honor their queen.

Marius merely shrugged at the latter details relayed by Greta, knowing how the rest of the myth went. Queen Dido, in a fitful rage, committed suicide out of spite at the abandonment of Aeneas and sparked the Punic Wars that led to the annexation of Carthage. Presently, both civilizations were relics of the past and the descendants of Aeneas and Dido had long forgotten about the dissension that divided the two to begin with.

“Who cares about any of that, it’s all ancient history anyway; more importantly we should talk about Faiza,” Marius clucked out with a cheeky grin as Greta’s face promptly flushed at the mention of the girl who currently held her affections.

Nimble fingers tapped bashfully against the coarse bark of the tree as she thought of the remarkable Moroccan beauty, two years her senior with an unmatched intellect that could not be found elsewhere in the village. Clearing her throat with a thunderous cough that echoed amongst the thicket of trees, thick chestnut brows quirked up to implore Marius to continue his line of questioning.

Sighing heavily in exasperation, the young man reached across to tug at his closest playmate’s cheek, earning an appalled yelp in reply.

“You vexing little runt, what was that for,” Greta demanded with a scoff, lightly slapping the terracotta toned hand away as Marius held his rib from chuckling harshly at Greta’s indignation. Thoroughly riled by the taunts, the daughter of the headman gracefully descended from the tree, stirring up the emerald leaves that laid in the low grass below. Lips curved upward at the sound of an astonished choke, knowing that Marius would take much longer to get down than Greta.

Leaves crunched in protest, alarming the teenager, who speedily pulled out her short sword to defend both herself and Marius from a potential assailant. Pale green eyes squinted in concentration, rising from the thick branch he sat upon. Marius tactically retrieved his elm bow and arrow to target the source of the commotion hidden by the overgrown shrubbery. Palms were presented in a mock defense manner and soon both sword and bow were lowered without further inquiry; the newcomer was a fellow inhabitant of Danesti who went by the name of Felix. The scrawny queer man looked affright when he saw their weapons drawn, shaking like a white flag in the wind signaling a surrender from a defeated camp of soldiers.

“Greta and Marius, I’ve come to retrieve you both on behalf of Tobias, he says that your mother is nearing the end of labor,” Felix squawked out nervously forcing his hands to his sides while tipping the crooked point of his jaw in the air, an attempt to reinforce his position as an elder among the children who innocently snickered at the poor fellow.

Tobias was the current headman of Danesti, father of Greta and husband of Iman, patiently awaiting the arrival of his second child with the rest of the men in the village. As per custom, Iman was currently being attended by several midwives and parish priests recruited from the capital of Târgoviște; a far journey that took the travelers weeks to make it to the settlement in time for the birth.

The leader of the village had forfeited several family heirlooms to afford the care needed for Iman and adequately compensated those assisting in the birth. Childbirth was an unforgiving ordeal; one could never be too safe to preserve the life of both mother and child even with the aid of experts.

Honeyed eyes crinkled in joy; the youth absolutely thrilled that she would finally meet her younger sibling. The young girl had been praying that it would be a boy so that her father could be at peace and have a successor that would eventually inherit the role of headman. If that occurred, her father would stop stifling her fun with Marius and the other village children, forcing her to sit through tedious meetings with the village council about the daily state of affairs in their community.

Regardless of the gender of the newborn, Greta promised her mother that she would look out for her younger sibling and her mother beamed from ear to ear while affectionately carding her rich brown hands through her daughter’s silken hair. Often wrapped in colorful linens covering her form and adorned with intricately knotted scarves, her mother dressed in the traditional garb that was expected of women hailing from Somalia, a resource rich country found in East Africa. Though it was rare to see out in the open, Greta adored seeing her mother braid her kinky curly hair into the fine thin rows of braids decorated by glassy beads and golden hair cuffs imported from North African traders passing through the area to sell their finery.

The relationship between Tobias and Iman was an anomaly to all onlookers based on the traits of the two; Tobias was a brash man who had no filter and the shortest temper that could set off at a moment’s notice while Iman was quiet spoken yet assertive in her demands, effortlessly carrying herself like a member of royalty. Additionally, Tobias carried the wide frame of a brutish bull, but he was slightly below average in stature while Iman towered over her husband with long slim legs and a slender frame hidden by her garments.

“We need to hurry, I don’t want to miss the birth of my baby brother,” Greta complained impatiently while Marius climbed his way down the birch tree with cautious steps, ensuring that his footing was secured along the way.

“You keep saying that you will have a brother, but how can you be so confident,” the boy queried warily with a suspicious glance, unconvinced that intuition alone could predict such a momentous event. Landing upon the ground, the youngster hollered upon Greta roughly grabbing and shaking him by the shoulders in frustration. Hoping that Felix would lend a helping hand against the rambunctious girl, Marius silently implored the middle-aged man to intervene and separate the two.

“You sound so skeptical my dear Marius, you should know that I’m quite clever when it comes to these matters,” Greta pledged eagerly, forcibly disconnected from the lad by an already fatigued Felix. The old man wished to return to the village before the three lost daylight and encountered the mischievous spirits of the forest.

“Enough out of you two, come along now,” the farmer churned out with difficulty, feeling hoarse at the thought of the journey back to the township.

Nose scrunched with a harrumph, Greta filed behind Felix with a small pout and Marius walked beside her feeling a small pang of jealousy. His friend had spent a great deal of time boasting about the new arrival of her sibling that he could not help the thorns of envy that pierced the entirety of his being. Thick as thieves, just about everyone in the colony had known how close the two were, rarely seen without one another. With the arrival of a newborn, Greta’s responsibilities and chores would increase tremendously as her mother recovered over the span of the next two months.

What if we grow apart Marius mused gloomily, instantly prickled with guilt at the selfishness of his thoughts but was shaken out of his stupor when he felt a hand roughly the same size as his own. Jade orbs welled up with teardrops as a thumb brush against his palm and he gripped the hand back in silence.

“What are you thinking about,” Greta murmured with great care; a tone rarely used in their conversations due to the spitfire personality that defined the young maiden.

Brushing away the tears in his eyes with his available hand, Marius contemplated how much he would be able to disclose without feeling entirely embarrassed by the pettiness of his emotions. Initially shrugging his shoulders in deference, his ample cheeks burned in shame as he slowly treaded along the path hand in hand with Greta.

“Promise not to laugh,” the boy pleaded with a defeated look, not being able to make eye contact with Greta who openly stared at him with such unease. Taking a deep breath in, the young girl released her hand from Marius and grabbed her friend’s knobby shoulders with an intense hawk-like gaze.

“I swear upon our friendship that I will not laugh, nor will I reveal the contents of this discussion to any soul,” she assured with a heavy sense of conviction, unconditional love filling her freesia eyes. Lips parted in mirth from the sheer honesty of his friend, a chuckle threatening to bubble up from his throat at his own foolishness.

“Can you promise that we’ll always remain friends,” Marius entreated faintly, inspecting the approaching dusk of the sky that precariously peeked through the treetops.

Although dumbfounded at the soft plea, Greta did not dither in responding to the vulnerable request, “Even if we were friends for an eternity, it still wouldn’t be enough time together.”

A wave of warmth washed over Marius at the declaration, assuaged by Greta’s consideration of his intrusive thoughts. Playfully knocking his shoulder into her own, the childhood friends smiled at one another, before redirecting their attention to the approaching sight of their settlement.

The trio slowly came to a stop at the barricade that was currently bolted shut from potential new arrivals in the village; Felix hesitantly craned his willowy neck upwards to see who stood guard at the top of its walls. Sure enough, a stout man roughly in his late thirties beamed at the sight of the three, quickly retrieving the bast rope to lower the door of the enormous, antiquated gatehouse. Squeaking in protest, the barricade slowly opened to the three, dust settling in the air upon impact. Without further notice, Marius and Greta speedily dashed across the oak wood of the gate while Felix’s knees trembled from exertion as he slowly limped into the community.

“Didn’t think the three of you would make it in time,” Luigi snorted cheekily, teetering towards the post to relatch the gate on the headman’s orders. Shortly after, the hefty man climbed down the shifty ladder that squeaked every step of the way before reaching the ground to properly greet the triad.

“If these two hadn’t been gallivanting about in the forest, we could have been back much sooner,” Felix complained rubbing his sore shoulders. Holding his rounded stomach while unleashing a booming guffaw, Luigi playfully shook his balding head at the mention of Marius and Greta’s predictable antics. The adolescents wordlessly exchanged a sour look before politely excusing themselves from the drawn-out discussion between the two chatty adults.

Heading towards her family’s residence, Greta and Marius spotted almost every villager crowded outside of the gate of her ancestral home. The gate was carved with several strokes belonging to the Punic alphabet and astrological formations that foretold the perilous journey of her forefathers.

Standing at the forefront of the assemblage, Tobias paced back and forth worriedly awaiting the nursing aides who instructed him to stay outside until the birthing ritual was completed. The sound of a woman wailing reverberated within the family home and Tobias wished for nothing more than to be by his wife’s side. A sizeable number of villagers swaddled their leader in support, all holding celebratory gifts to offer protection against any harm that may come to Iman or the arriving infant.

Lengthy, partially braided chestnut tresses fell past sun kissed broad shoulders; the headman possessed a striking profile that was disrupted by the prestigious wide hook of a nose displaying his Carthaginian roots. The warrior’s features were that of a handsome hero residing in an epic poem, his Herculean body cladded in his finest olive tunic befitting the occasion. Despite Greta clearly resembling her mother far more, both father and daughter shared the same honeyed gaze that resembled the jewel tones of amber.

The entire village of Danesti recognized the headman and his wife as the most handsome couple in the village, both easy on the eyes and charming in their own way. However, the couple had eyes for no one else; the village leader was completely smitten and dedicated his every waking moment to Iman while Iman could not see another man loving her the way Tobias did. Tobias claimed that he fell for Iman from the moment that he had laid his eyes on her, formally the daughter of a Somali livestock peddler who regularly passed through Danesti on route to the numerous towns in Wallachia.

Whenever Greta asked about the tryst, the older villagers professed that no one had silenced Tobias in quite the same manner that Iman did upon their initial meeting, the headman completely bewitched by her stunning beauty and graceful manner. Falling to his knees shamelessly, the newly appointed leader of Danesti begged for Iman to allow him to worship her for the rest of his days and Iman accepted the shocking proposal with a shy smile. Despite the two reciprocating feelings for one another, her father Assad was completely against the courtship as he had plans to marry Iman off to a thriving merchant who lusted after his eldest daughter.

In the end, Tobias challenged Assad in a physical brawl for the hand of Iman and the rest was history. The two wasted no time in conceiving a child within the first year of their engagement, naming Greta after the precious gem that adorned the ring Tobias gave to his wife, formerly worn by his late mother who died in the aftermath of his own birth.

Bushy brows seemed to cement into a permanent pinch, clearly distressed until he heard a familiar voice.

“Father, how is mother doing,” Greta questioned tensely, pushing through the crowd while Marius was herded in by his folks despite the boy’s protests.

Exhaling with a frightful glower, Tobias channeled his anxiety into outrage at the late arrival of his daughter, “Have you had your fill of prancing off with Marius?” Ears ablaze in mortification at the scrutiny of the villagers who went silent at the confrontation, the young girl stopped a few feet shy of her father.

“I needed to go somewhere quiet to complete my gift for mother,” Greta confessed weakly, digging into the goatskin satchel slung across the finely threaded olive tunic that mirrored the one that her father donned. Carefully, her uncertain fingers produced a small carved sculpture of a woman holding an infant while shameful tears muddled her vision. The craftsmanship of the small carving was remarkable, the creation a labor of love worked on by Greta and Marius over the period of a fortnight.

Rumpled brows sheepishly slackened at the admission, knowing that if Iman had been present, she would be livid with her husband’s arbitrary treatment of their daughter. Hesitantly, the headman closed the distance between himself and Greta who stubbornly withheld her tears as he approached.

Lifting the corner of his mouth minutely, the gruff man reached out and gingerly carded his chunky fingers through the beautiful chestnut hair of his daughter, not one for sentimentality or overt displays of affection in front of others. Peeking from beneath the reach of her father’s labor-thickened hands, Greta gathered the courage to blow a raspberry in retaliation. The sound of laughter erupted amongst the crowd of villagers, thankful that the situation had not escalated any further. The tense line of Tobias’ mouth relaxed for the first time all day; a small smile coaxed from the outrageousness of his adorable daughter.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the door of the cruck home belonging to Tobias and Iman flung open. In the doorway of the home stood the principal midwife, looking to Tobias with a weighted gaze that forebode tragedy. All went quiet in shock, the exultant air of the villagers immediately vanishing in fear of what would come next.

Face crumbling in misery at what lied ahead, Tobias sucked in his plump lower lip, approaching the doorway of his home with solemn steps. Before fully making it over the threshold, the headman threw a backwards glance at his daughter whose eyes carried a sorrow that was beyond her years.

“Restrain your grief,” Tobias uttered cautiously, directing a grim expression to Greta before entering his home. Marching past the chaste kitchen of his abode, the man followed closely behind the midwife who remained quiet as a mouse before arriving at the door of the room that had been prepared for the birth. Closing his freesia eyes with a silent prayer, he opened the door and his husky body crumbled to the ground.

His beautiful wife had never been so pale, the rich brownness of her skin ashen from the exertion of labor and her mouth ajar as she wheezed harshly. Her lithe form sagged uncomfortably on the birthing stool that she sat upon. The maternity gown cloaking her frail form was drenched in excess blood from the pelvis down, the essence of life puttering silently onto the floorboards of the room. The secondary midwives turned their remorseful glances upon the speechless headman who saw the swaddled form of his stillborn son, laying in the woven basket of his crib perpetually silent, never to awaken from his eternal slumber.

“Where is our boy Tobias, they refuse to let me hold him,” Iman churned out deliriously, blearily making out her husband who still sat in the doorway. With great difficulty, the thirty-five-year-old rose to his feet, ambling towards his wife who reached out her hand in search of her beloved. Arriving at her side, he pressed his lips to the clammy forehead of his wife who shook like a leaf in his embrace. Shushing his wife with a gentleness that only she inspired, Tobias softly asked Iman to rest despite her repeated question. Eventually, she dozed off from the sheer pain of her loss and the weakness of her body while Tobias held her fragile hand to his cheek.

“There is something I must tell you,” the central midwife addressed miserably, knowing that what she was about to disclose would break the man before her beyond repair. Heartbroken from the loss of his ill-fated son, Tobias shook his head refusing to part from his spouse.

“No more, not now,” the warrior beseeched quietly, incessant tears drenching his face, looking down at his doomed wife; the village leader had spent enough time entrenched in death to know the telltale signs. Even in her sleep, Iman breathed with difficulty and her body was soaked with cold sweat from the feverish trot of impending death.

Nodding with a heavy heart, the midwife stepped out of the room with her aides, giving the couple their much-needed privacy with the promise of addressing the village in place of the grief-stricken man.

Setting foot into the dusk of the evening, the middle-aged woman was immediately met by the mob of villagers who had not breathed a word since the departure of their leader. Hands were gravely clasped in prayer with heads bowed, hoping that at least one of the poor souls had survived the traumatic birth. The daughter of the village leader looked at the midwife with lifeless eyes, slowly stepping forward with clenched fists, nails digging violently into the skin of her palms.

“Where are my parents,” the minor queried weakly; she looked nothing like the spirited girl that danced gleefully at the arrival of the midwife with her aides. Lip trembling, the adolescent brushed past the midwife with an anguished cry, marching into her household completely distraught. Marius observed his friend from afar, feeling the pit of his stomach drop into the deepest depths, wishing that he could provide an iota of comfort. Nothing he said would erase the sorrow that would forever mark this day; he could only hope that Greta would find the courage to smile again one day as tears ran down his face.

Spiraling into complete panic, Greta made her way through the simple structure of her home, wiping her tears with the sleeve of the cotton blouse her mother had just laundered a few days ago. Arriving at the door where her parents were surely behind, her face flittered between dread and hysteria. Intaking a deep breath, she pushed the door open silently and an ear-shattering scream reached the villagers who all mournfully turned to embrace their own families. The village men removed their hats out of respect while the women held their children close to their breast, some too young to understand what was going on.

Tobias abruptly removed himself from his wife who was still barely holding on at the sound of his daughter’s screech, silently standing up with his back facing Greta. Nose flaring irritably, ire scathed his irises when he looked at his daughter who was amid a panic attack. Chest heaving up and down in apprehension, the child convulsed as an ugly cry cut through the silence of the room, not knowing whether to stare at her condemned mother or brother.

Tears still lingering in his eyes, Tobias savagely stomped across the room, standing before his firstborn without penitence.

“Straighten up now daughter of mine, you need to grow up,” he shouted venomously, grabbing the girl roughly by her slightly too large tunic to ground himself. Blunt teeth bared wickedly for all to see, the chieftain burrowed his daughter against his strong chest with silent tears, words at odds with his current actions.

Nothing reached Greta who continued to wail, the strength in her knees disappearing entirely as she slid to the floor, her father silently sinking with her. Thick snot and tears ran amuck, her breathing clearly affected by her frenzied state while a hand gently rubbed her back. The edges of her vision blackened as she fainted; Greta vaguely recalled her father raving like a mad man in his native tongue, sobbing harshly as he brought his beloved child firmly into the embrace of his burly arms. It would be the first and last time the future head woman would see the resilient man brought to tears, the love of his life stealing them away permanently with her unexpected departure.

_____________________________________________________________________________

I have lost my other brother Greta thought ardently, turning the statement over and over in her head a million times, wondering when the immediate grief of Marius passing would slither away. Presently, her muddied sleeves were rolled up to her elbows as she gathered the remains of the corpses strewn about her village. Dismembered bodies were carefully laid on thick tarps customarily used to protect the produce cultivated by the farmers of Danesti. One thing was certain after last night’s invasion; the village of Danesti had fallen and it had occurred under Greta’s charge.

Invisible unrelenting fingers pointed at her in a silent accusation, calling for her execution and demanding that the head woman be replaced by a more capable hand. Loading up a wooden cart with rows of bundled corpses, amber eyes sorrowfully looked onto the Earth that bled her people dry in this latest attack. Less than forty percent of the inhabitants of Danesti and those belonging to other nearby villages survived, many children becoming orphans while the women were widowed in the aftermath of their closest victory against the night hordes.

Humiliated by the string of her latest failures, the village leader could not bring herself to thoroughly engage with anyone. If a villager approached her for further instructions regarding their task, she cowardly evaded eye contact, automatically generating an appropriate response. Despite the fatigue eating away at her strength, Greta refused to stop busying herself with the innumerous number of tasks before her. Very few members of the village council had survived, leaving her with an excessive workload to keep her out of her thoughts for a decent stretch of time.

If the previous headman could see her now, he would probably double over in shame from beyond the grave, wondering why his daughter failed the colony given all that he had taught her. In his last days, Tobias constantly reassured Greta of her position as next in line for the leadership of the village, silencing anyone who stood in opposition of her inheriting the role.

“Only you have the abilities to lead Danesti beyond its current splendor,” Tobias affirmed maniacally before he passed from a broken heart, his health steadily declining over the years, leaving a depressed and scared eighteen-year-old Greta to pick up the pieces of his ambitions.

Watching her once indestructible father devolve into a mass of sinewy muscles on his deathbed emotionally ravaged Greta. However, she could not afford to mourn for months like she did with her mother and baby brother, for the sake of the villagers now depending on her counsel. Burying her emotions deep in her breast, Greta only divested her authentic emotional state to Marius in moments of deep insecurity. The young woman feigned abundant confidence in the presence of her people, strategically dispatching a witty remark here and there at anyone who dared to challenge her position of power.

With the hammer of Tobias, Greta led a new age of prosperity in Danesti over the next four years; encouraging the expansion of the village as well as carefully managing the resources to supply the newcomers settling in the community. Branches of commerce grew as well, the wardress carefully researching the highly sought goods of Wallachians nearby to encourage her people to communicate with others from their native countries for trading purposes, utilizing the diversity of her community.

Slowly beginning to recover from her past traumas, a cruel God deemed that it was time to awaken Greta from her dreams of a brighter future, Wallachians region wide receiving a wave of brutal attacks by the night hordes. Death was an inevitable foe that she knew she would never be able to completely curb, stealing her villagers every now and then due to tragic accidents or old age. What she was facing now was entirely different; mass graves were being dug due to the surplus of carcasses that cluttered the lands, because there were not enough hands available to dig individual graves.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she looked to her bounded shoulder to find a tanned hand planted there, meeting the eyes of the Speaker who saved her life the previous night. Once again, finding heavy worriment in those cerulean-blue orbs, the young heroine found herself almost cursing the woman for rescuing her and Marius in that instance. At least if she died then, it would have been at the side of her dearest friend whom she considered to be the last member of her long-gone family.

“We need to talk,” the ginger-haired woman whispered gently, seeing the vacancy and pain that traversed the head woman. Stopping her task at the bidding of an invisible force from the ether, Greta allowed herself to be led away from her people who stared at their leader sympathetically.

What the fuck am I doing the hammer-wielding warrior questioned, chewing her lower lip aggressively while darting her eyes to the back of the Speaker’s fiery strands that bounced at the beating of the morning wind. Finally, the two ceased further movement upon arriving at a patch of undisturbed land that had not been scorched. The unknown woman turned to Greta with the irritated twitch of her nose, the stench of smoke still filling the air long after the Speakers had put out the flames.

“My name is Sypha Belnades, I’m the granddaughter of the Elder Speaker that leads this particular caravan,” Sypha extended politely, introducing herself with a small bow out of respect for the chief ruler of the village. The young mage happened upon Greta shortly after the night hordes fled from the assault on Danesti, feeling an unconscious link form between the two at the vulnerability that the young leader displayed for her people. Tears of empathy sprouted at the sight of Greta sprawled over the newly deceased Marius, knowing the importance of bonds and how easily a community could translate into the bonds of family.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Greta bowed as well with a forced smile, “I’m Greta of Danesti, daughter of the deceased Tobias and Iman,” responded punctually before allowing the sorcerer to continue her train of thought.

Clearing her throat in discomfort, Sypha attempted to regain her footing in the exchange, finding it difficult to formulate her thoughts amid the tragedy that she had witnessed firsthand.

“Our chapter of Speakers have spent the last couple of weeks traveling throughout the region of Wallachia, striving to put an end to the massacres that have swallowed up these lands,” Sypha started with an explanation, recounting the horrors that she had seen in her travels with a dire countenance, clearly bothered by the amount of death she had seen in the last two months. Unspeakable calamities had been dealt out without reasoning, leaving the group of Speakers at a loss in how they should advance and lend aid.

Unsubstantiated rumors circulated around the fabled entity known as Death personally commanding the army of night creatures; however, accounts from the commonfolk reported several different descriptors identifying the mystic general behind the current campaign of genocide. Some said that the commander of the army was a cloaked young woman with dark skin possessing unsettling hues that glowed, while others detailed an older male vampire who lacked the expected regalia of his kind.

“Currently we are at a disadvantage, my caravan alone cannot provide the support desperately needed across Wallachia,” Sypha confessed uneasily, rubbing her chilly fingers together to ward off the unforgiving chill that the morning air brought.

Pinched by the unyielding sense of compassion instilled by her late mother, Greta straightened her undignified form with a newfound purpose. No matter how lost she may have felt, the headwoman could not idly stand by while innocent people were slaughtered without just cause. Brown slim fingers extended out and clasped Sypha’s shoulder with certainty at what would come next, her amber eyes lighting up reinvigorated at the unspoken pledge of defending her remaining charges.

“What can I do to help,” the young warrior inquired with haste, not realizing that this exact moment would turn the tides in saving Wallachia and spark the ensuing chronicles that celebrated the legendary heroine and her fellow comrades made along the way.

[meganlpie]

Unseen Protector

Based on this request:  can i request for Cas please? but it’s an AU.. so he’s a cop and she’s a barista. they always talk when he gets coffee and one day he realises a sketchy guy watching her so he starts scheduling his shifts to make sure he can watch her get home safe (without her knowing). One day he doesn’t see her and is worrying where she went, she’s not at work the next day and he’s really concerned that somethings happened..a few days later he sees her again and is kinda asking her where she went…maybe he can ask her out or maybe she can be like yeah i knew you were following me or any cute ending i’ll leave it up to you. thank you! have a lovely day!

Here you are, lovelies! I do not own Castiel. He belongs to the writers/creators of SPN!

Warnings: Police Officer/Coffee Shop AU. angst, mentions of creepers, possible stalking?? Fluff

Pairings: Officer!Castiel x fem!barista reader(can be read as gender neutral since no pronouns are used)

When Castiel had first stepped foot in the little coffee shop, he hadn't thought anything of it. He was just getting his morning coffee before going into work. The coffee from the shop was better than anything the precinct had and he liked supporting small businesses.  But then, he met you. You were his barista that morning and had greeted him with such a dazzling smile, he couldn't help but smile in return.

         Every day after that, Castiel returned to the coffee shop. There was something about you that intrigued him. It wasn't just that you were beautiful. You were, of course, but there was something that came from the inside that Castiel really wanted to know better. So, whenever he came in for his coffee, he would try to strike up a conversation with you if you were there. The two of you became quite close, or at least he hoped he wasn't alone in thinking that. Then came the event that would change everything.

         Castiel grabbed his coffee and was about to leave when he noticed something that didn't sit right with him. There was a man sitting at one of the tables. He'd been there when Castiel arrived as well. He had a laptop in front of him and a cup next to him. The cup was one the baristas used for hot drinks, but there was no longer steam coming from it meaning he'd either finished it a while ago or it had gone cold. And not once since he'd stepped foot in there had Castiel heard the sound of the mouse pad or keyboard on the laptop. Odd, but not really his business. What was his business was that the man had hardly taken his eyes off you the entire time Castiel had been waiting for his coffee.

         Castiel spared a glance at you. You gave him a smile, but it looked forced. Uncomfortable. Your eyes darted to the man before coming back to him. Castiel leaned in a little so he could whisper, "Is he bothering you?" You thought for a minute before slowly shaking your head. "N-Not really. It's just that he's been here every single day for the past two weeks. He always stays for hours and I can feel him staring. He came yesterday when I wasn't working and apparently stormed out when he saw another barista."

         "I am certain he is simply an intense person. I will talk to him before I leave." You gave a nod before telling him you needed to get back to work. Castiel stopped at the man's table and had a short discussion about how his actions made some of the baristas uncomfortable and he suggested to the man that, if he was interested in one of the baristas to let them know instead of simply staring. The man had given him a tense smile and agreed so Castiel left. He wasn't out to arrest anyone that didn't deserve it, no matter how badly he was creeped out.

         However, all the way to the precinct and throughout the day, Castiel couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His instincts were almost never wrong. It was one of his gifts. He felt the need to protect the baristas in the coffee shop. To protect you. Fortunately for him, Castiel was close with the officer who worked that particular beat. He could technically ask her and the chief to change up the schedule a bit so he could work a different beat.

         That was how Castiel found himself patrolling the area around the coffee shop, mostly trying to be on the same schedule as you so he could watch out for you. He was discreet and didn't bother anyone if it wasn't necessary, but he did make certain to drive by the coffee shop several times a day. Sure enough, that guy was back every single day. He sat there for hours, his eyes glued mostly to you. Still, he wasn't doing anything illegal and Castiel couldn't barge in there and demand he leave or arrest him. He had no cause for that. Just a gut feeling.

         Then came the first day when Castiel drove by and you weren't there. Coincidentally, neither was the man. Castiel didn't think anything of it. You typically had at least one day off a week. But that one day turned to two. And then three. And then four. Five. Castiel started worrying around day three. Had something happened to you? He could have easily found out where you lived of course, to check up on you, but he wouldn't invade your privacy with a misuse of resources like that. So he waited.

         Six days after he'd last saw you, Castiel let out a deep sigh of relief when he walked into the coffee shop at the beginning of his shift. You were back and looking fine. A little worn down, but otherwise okay. You greeted Castiel with your usually smile. "Good morning, Officer Novak! Usual?" Castiel nodded.

         "I…missed you," Castiel admitted softly when you were within ear shot again. Your brows crinkled together. "What do you mean?" Castiel explained that he'd come in for his coffee and you weren't there. "I was sick, but you don't have to lie to me. I've seen you patrolling recently. I recognized the different car when you switched shifts with Officer Hanscum. I know you've been keeping an eye on me and the other baristas because of that guy."

         Castiel blushed a deep red. You laughed lightly. "I apologize if it made you uncomfortable. There was something that didn't sit well with me about his actions." You nodded and told him you understood. "But really, you didn't make me uncomfortable. You never crossed any lines and you weren't actually following me. I appreciate you looking out. It's more than most officers do."

         Castiel wasn't sure what to say as you handed him his coffee before telling your manager that you were taking your break. "I do have a question," you stated as soon as you had stepped foot outside. Castiel nodded his head, prompting you to ask the question on your mind. "Why me? I mean, you're a sweet guy, but you seemed really worried that I wasn't here. I can tell you're, at the very least, attracted to me. So, why me?"

         Castiel let his cerulean eyes meet your (e/c) ones. "Because I have never met a more beautiful creation, inside and out, than you. You always have a smile for me, even when you're having an off day. You don't let the stress of your day affect the way you treat others. You never looked down on other people and I always hear you encouraging everyone who comes in here. You are a wondrous human being with a gentle heart and kind soul that lights up my day whenever I see."

         Castiel blushed again as he waited for you to say something. His best friend always told him he talked too much. Shared too much. Maybe he was very candid with his feelings, but Castiel believed he owed it to you. "That is probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you," you whispered.

         Just as he was about to reply, Castiel's radio crackled to life. "I have to get back to work. I-"

         "Would you go on a date with me?" you asked suddenly, interrupting Castiel. You clamped your mouth shut, but muttered a quick apology. You glanced down at your shoes, but Castiel wasn't having it. He lifted your chin so he could look at you again. "I would love to. We'll talk more about this when we both have time. In the meantime, I'll see you tomorrow." You beamed and gave a nod. Castiel dropped his hand and turned to go back to work, leaving you staring after him as he walked away.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @motleymoose @stories-by-shanna-p​

SPN Tags: @jotink78​

[ikingsley]

Ina x MC: A Small Detour

Ina x MC: A Small Detour

This is the second fic in my series loosely based on Queen B chapters. This one is based on chapter 2. The first one of my series is here: The Dance. 

Summary: Luna finds Ina in an interesting and unexpected place.

Warnings: Fluff!

Tag: @samanthadalton

Author’s Notes: Happy Tuesday! Not super happy with the ending, but hope you enjoy!

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

Luna walked briskly down the street towards the grocery store. She had failed to meet one Belvoire student who could actually cook for themselves. And the exception did not lie with Zoey. Luckily, the two had made a deal as soon as Luna had opened the fridge for the first time, where she found thirty mini bottles of Prosecco and not one food item. As long as Zoey kept the Prosecco coming, Luna would make dinner on the days they didn’t order food. And thus, Luna adventured to the grocery store in search of ingredients for a ‘gourmet’ dinner.

Luna found it extremely difficult to not think of Ina, or rather, Professor Kingsley. The Ina she had met at the bar, the Ina who she danced with until the early hours of the morning, the Ina she had passionately kissed at the diner had been swept away by a stoic, reticent and stuffy Professor Kingsley. Was it even possible to go from 100 to 0 real quick? If so, that’s how their relationship had plummeted, Luna reflected silently. 

She could see the grocery store’s bright sign illuminating from a block away. She picked up the pace, encouraged that she had gone in the right direction. New York City was a busy place, and it was way too easy to get lost, especially for newcomers like herself. As she went down the sidewalk, she looked at each store along the block as a way to familiarize herself. She looked up and found a neon sign spelling The Retro Arcade. 

Arcades are for nerds! Luna thought and chuckled.

Her laughter was cut short by a loud shriek followed by an even louder thud. Luna’s head swiveled vigorously as she looked for the source of the noise. It had come from inside the arcade. As she turned to look for the child who had made such a racket, instead, she found herself standing face-to-face with none other than Ina Kingsley.

Ina’s face flushed in embarrassment. For one, Luna had caught her in an arcade. But even more embarrassing was how Ina stood against the Donkey Kong machine clutching her toe. The same toe that she had kicked against the machine in frustration that her little Mario figure had been killed by Donkey Kong’s barrels. 

Ina watched and sighed as Luna made her way into the arcade. As if this situation could get any more embarrassing, she thought.

“Why hello there, Professor,” Luna said with the slightest smirk on her face. Ina could only sigh once more. “Yes. Hello Luna. I guess you’ve caught me,” Ina said dejectedly. “Caught you from what exactly?” Luna asked. “My guilty pleasure and stress buster, I suppose. I guess you wouldn’t expect your professor to be playing arcade games on a Saturday afternoon,” Ina said. Luna laughed aloud. “Well...no. But there’s nothing wrong with arcades. Do you come often?” Luna asked. Ina’s face lit up at the approval of arcade games. “Almost weekly if I’m not too busy.” Ina responded through a smile. And all Luna could think was, dAmN what a NERD!

But she held herself together. At least for now.

Ina noticed Luna’s pensive, yet amused gaze on the arcade game. And just like that, Ina read her like a book. “...you’ve never played Donkey Kong before,” Ina realized. Luna could only laugh at her professor’s high intuition and perceptiveness. “Honestly, I’ve never even heard of it,” Luna admitted. Ina’s jaw dropped out of bewilderment as she turned to fully face Luna. “What! How have you not heard of Donkey Kong! It’s just about the most iconic arcade game ever! It’s Nintendo’s-” Ina said exasperated, but she was cut off promptly. “Professor, I didn’t ask for a lecture on Donkey Kong! Plus, I’ve played that yellow dude with the ghosts game!” Ina looked at Luna stunned. “Ummm....Pac-Man!!” Luna exclaimed. Ina hummed in disapproval. “Come on. That’s so basic. Donkey Kong - it’s pure skill. Come here. Let me show you.”

Luna was not one to turn down Ina’s request. She saw that the Ina she was fascinated by was not only alive at night, but maybe even on weekends too. Any other time, she was stuck with the upright Professor Kingsley.

~

Ina played the first round, showing Luna the basics: the controls, the premise, the things to watch for. Once Ina felt that Luna understood how to play, she let Mario get killed by Donkey Kong and stepped aside to make room for Luna.

The game began slowly and Luna successfully jumped over many barrels. But as the pace picked up, Luna suddenly felt overwhelmed. There were way too many things happening at once.

“Ina, help me!“ she yelped. Luna galloped away from the game. Simply put, it was fun until it wasn’t. Ina then came in to help Luna out. She kept in a laugh; to her, the game was still in its easy stages.

Ina stared at the screen, enraptured by the game as she had actually accumulated a relatively high score after taking over for Luna.

But it soon came crashing down. And again, like clockwork, Ina let out a howl. This time however, she learned her lesson. That machine was in fact stronger and sturdier than her foot. And instead, she kicked out to the side. Except this time, Luna was standing there. 

“OWW!!!”

“Oh crap.”

It was a bittersweet disaster in slow motion. Luna was falling to the ground in pain, and at the last second, Ina swooped her from near collapse and held her in her arms. The pair stared at each other for only a couple of seconds, but to them both, it felt almost like a lifetime. Luna got lost in Ina’s eyes; they were so profound and full of affection. Finally, Ina cleared her throat. Luna sat up straight as Ina let her out of her arms.

“Are you okay?” Ina asked. She felt really bad for kicking Luna. Even if it wasn’t exactly a hard kick, she’d still hurt her. To Ina’s surprise, Luna was laughing on the side. 

“Why are you laughing? I just kicked you!” Ina smiled. “The whole situation! You know, you’re such a ner- never mind,” Luna retracted. “I’m such a what!” Ina demanded. “When I passed by the arcade, all I could think was...arcade goers are nerds!” Luna laughed again.

Ina was slightly annoyed by her statement, and grumbled slightly. Then a small smile played at her lips. “If arcade goers are nerds, then why are you still in here,” Ina retorted. Luna pouted a little. “I guess...maybe, possibly, I might be a nerd,” Luna admitted. “I know,” Ina smirked. “Stop smirking like that! You’re such a nerd too!” Luna proclaimed. Ina sighed, but she knew it was true.

Ina was the first to get up. She reached out to Luna and helped her up. Luna scanned the arcade to see if there was anything she wanted to play. Then she saw it. In the corner, there was a small photo booth.

“Ina! Come on,“ Luna pleaded. Ina had no idea where she was being led to, but she took Luna’s hand. At first she was disappointed that it was a photo booth and not an arcade game, but she then realized how much fun photo booths actually were. All the different effects, all the crazy backgrounds, all the face filters... Ina smiled a little and proceeded to head inside the booth with Luna. 

~

“Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do it,“ Luna stated. “First one is serious. Second one we’re trying one of those filters. Third one is funny. Fourth one...let’s just play it by ear.“

The first picture was like a mugshot of two people. Ina laughed at its hilarity as she searched for a filter to put. She found one with dog ears and a snout and thought it was appropriate. The second picture came out how middle schoolers would take pictures with their friends using Snapchat filters. 

At this point, Ina was running out of ideas for pictures. At times, she was far from a creative soul. And for the third picture, she went with the classic bunny ears behind Luna’s head. Luna doubled over, laughing. She could barely make out the words “Really Ina? Bunny ears?” through her laughter. 

Finally, her laughter ceased, much to Ina’s relief. And neither had an idea what to do for the final picture. 3...2...

In a panic, Luna put her head on Ina’s shoulders. For a moment, Ina tensed up. But then she leaned into Luna’s touch and put an arm around her. This was by far the best picture. Both women had big smiles on their faces as they cuddled next to each other. 

Even after the photo was taken, the two lingered on each other. If it weren’t for the startling sound of the machine printing out the four photos, who knows how long the two could’ve stayed in that position. Finally, they pulled away from each other as Ina reached for the two sets of copies of the photos. She handed one to Luna, and both women smiled as they looked upon the reel. 

“Can I admit something?” Ina asked. “Of course,“ Luna replied. “Remember when you saw me through the window?” Ina recalled. “Well, how could I forget, you were so mad you lost.” “I admit, I am very competitive. But I only lost because well, I was distracted,” Ina smiled sheepishly. “How so?” Luna inquired. 

“I saw from the corner of my eye a pretty lady. I was distracted. By you.” 

[missdutch21md]

Gas Station Saviors

A/N: so instead of going to therapy. I wrote this about something that happened on Halloween this year. So. There’s that. 🥴🥴 anywho please everyone stay safe in these times of plague and don’t do like these characters do only go outside if you absolutely must!

Genre: crack (?) 😜 mature 🔞

Pairing: OT7 x main character (reader)

Length: 9.1k 

⚠️warnings ⚠️: mentions of loss, alcohol consumption, mentions of COVID 19 (please social distance unlike the characters in this one shot), panic attack mentions

M. L i s t | Request 

It was another endless day. The fact that the calendar date was October 31st did nothing to influence my schedule into being less demanding. I sighed as I sat back at my desk, finally able to clock out for the day.  

During the times of pandemic, work only got busier, which was great for my wallet, but my mind was becoming increasingly vacant as the days turned into weeks and then months. I heard the rest of my family down stairs as I sat back wondering how much longer life would continue on like this.  

I watched as the time on the clock kept blinking back at me, unfeeling. [5:45 pm.]  

Another sigh left my lips as I heard my grandmother calling out to my cousins to pick up after themselves. Dinner must be coming to a close, I hummed. I grabbed my headphones and my phone after slipping on a pair of sweatpants. I was used to eating on my own these days. My family never waited for me anymore.  

And thank goodness I did. Coming down the stairs I saw a person I had never met before. “Oh, ____, you’re home!” my older cousin smiled. “This is my girlfriend, Sarah.”  

He was smiling, nothing ever seemed to affect him, not even the pandemic. Here he was, introducing me to his new girlfriend. I smiled as my mind was shouting insults at the family that I was stuck living with. “Nice to meet you,” she moved to shake my hand but I stepped back and then her face seemed to color with understanding. I couldn't believe it, here I was, separating myself from my friends, the guy that I liked, and my dad and a whole other side of my family. But of course, social distancing didn’t apply to my cousin. He was allowed to do just about anything he wanted.  

“Oh, Princess?” my mom came up behind me and steered me into the kitchen, her soft dulcet tones calming as she plated a hefty plate of food for me. Mom was always doing that, steering me away from things and situations, good and bad.  

The tension I felt settled in my brow and my shoulders as I was sat down at the now empty table to eat. I fished my headphones out of my pocket along with my phone and put on a BTS music video, Dynamite, I decided, I needed something to make me smile. Just watching the seven idols always put a smile on my face. Once the song stopped playing, I sent a text to the guy I was crushing on, asking if he had plans tonight.  

[6:01 PM] to: tall boi  u wanna hang out—or r u busy? C:  

I went back to YouTube and selected an old BTS bomb to watch while I finished eating.  Walking back into the kitchen, I plated the rest of my food into a Tupperware box laughing and smiling at the seven boys that I basically grew up with.  

“Plans for tonight, Princess?” my mom was all smiles as she filled her wine glass again.  

I gave her a small smile, “possibly, I’ll let you know.”  

“Perfect, you should put make up on if you decide to go out,” she briefly touched my cheek and floated back to the sofa to get back to her tele-novella. I sighed, she was right, it had been weeks since I felt like a person, I made my way upstairs to my room and put my music on shuffle while I got ready.  

My makeup was all done, and I was picking out an outfit. I finally settled on a cropped black long sleeve sweater and striped pants that made my butt look really cute. Satisfied with my selection, I got dressed, and because I was antsy, I grabbed my keys and told my mom I was leaving.  

I was bounding out the door in minutes, the sounds of screams from haunted houses were rising in the air, and there was a subtle mist that clung to the dark asphalt of the street like a thick blanket. I smiled as the scent of fog machines and the chilling sounds of haunted house albums greeted me before I placed my hand on the driver’s door handle unlocking my car and climbing in.  

The long coat that I draped over my shoulders was already making me too warm as I settled into my seat and waited for the music to connect to the speakers.  

My Time softly greeted my ears as I turned on my seat warmer and adjusted the air settings in my car so that I was comfortable.  

I checked my phone one last time before I peeled out of my parking space and decided that a night time drive through the canyon would be very relaxing. It also took me in his direction so if he ended up wanting to meet up, I would be closer than usual.  

As I turned onto the main road leading down to the canyon, my car alerted me of his text.  

[7:45 PM] from: tall boi can’t im super busy  

I tried to push back the disappointment that took hold of my heart. Only one year before, we had spent this exact night laughing, eating candy and watching TV in his apartment.  The sting of tears threatened to escape from my lashes, but I did my best to not allow them to fall. I further resolved to drive completely through the canyon to end up in the city.  

With my mind made up, I cranked up ON by BTS as it started playing through the speakers. I slowly came to a stop at the streetlight and shifted my car into sport mode. Once the light turned green, I was off merging into the next lane getting in front of the slower cars and pulled ahead.  

Soon, I was curving down into the canyon, the forest coming up and creating a canopy over the road. I had always loved driving down into the canyon and now it was the route most travelled when going to visit my grandpa’s grave. A left-handed turn had me pulling into the outskirts of the city. I kept to the outskirts, not wanting to get mixed up in any traffic and then kept going north. Finally, my destination came up, In n Out. I smiled happily as I got in line.  

After acquiring my sustenance, I made my way over to the nearest park to sit and enjoy my strawberry milkshake and my steaming hot French Fries. Softly, BTS was still playing through my speakers as I scrolled through my phone mindlessly. After another half hour, I got bored and decided to finally start making the long trek home.  

I started up my car again and back tracked briefly to stop at a gas station to fill up my tank before getting back on the road. I killed the engine and fished out my wallet from my purse to pay for my gas. The gas station had been full of cars. A family, two couples and an elderly man. I stood with my phone and scrolled more while waiting for the tank to fill. I suddenly remembered about the trash in my car and threw it out.  

Once the gas line popped, I grabbed a napkin to wipe off the gas tank on my car and removed the gas line. I turned back to the console and keyed in for it to print a receipt. At that moment I heard a shout from behind me and turned in surprise. When I turned again to watch where the scream came from, I saw a short man with a ripped tank top on. A quick glance around told me all the other cars had gone at some point. I clutched onto my phone tighter, unsure if I should really even worry.  

My eyes widened in shock; I had no idea where this person came from. But I seemed to have drawn attention to myself because he changed his trajectory after our eyes met. He stumbled away a little and I let out a sigh of relief as I returned the gas line and impatiently tapped my foot, waiting for the receipt to print. There was another shout and I turned to see he was no longer making his way to the car at the air pump ahead of where I parked —where had it even come from?—he was making his way over to me and he had a sinister smile on his face. My hands started to shake, and I bared my teeth in warning.  

He must have taken it as a smile because his eyes lit up in a disgusting way. My breath hitched in my throat as I saw another guy make his way over from my left. And then the car at the air pump started. The first guy waved at the car signaling for it to come closer. My hands were shaking as I hastily reached for the receipt that finally printed and then a sweet, melodic voice greeted me from behind.  

“Hey Babe, still getting gas?” I turned to give the person a piece of my mind, or scream—I wasn’t sure— when I stopped and my mouth fell open slightly at the sight that greeted me.  

My eyes landed on The Jeon Jungkook. “H-hi,” I stuttered. My hand was still reaching for the receipt from the console, stuck in shock. Jungkook seemed to notice and grabbed onto my wrist, my cellphone was still clutched in my grasp, to tug me gently in his direction.  

The two guys that were making their way over to my car were stopped at the front by the hood, watching the scene play out. “You scared me, Kookie!” I giggled then, the adrenaline or something kicked me into gear and I grabbed onto him leaning in for support. I tried to playfully swat at his arm but couldn’t help but wonder if I was shaking too much to really sell it.

“Who are your friends?” he asked me jutting his chin at the older men.  

I shook my head, “I don’t know them,” and pulled him closer and he easily stepped up to put me slightly behind him.  

Suddenly, I heard the voices of other BTS members, I heard Jimin louder than the others though. “Jungkook-ah!” he called out loudly.  

The two men at the hood of my car snapped their gaze in that direction when they previously seemed to be deciding whether they could take on Jungkook, but at the sound of the rest of the members, they seemed to rethink it. Jungkook called out something in Korean and the sound of footfalls was heard, once the other six made their way to where we were, the two older men backed up and got into the waiting car. After a moment, they drove off and I only calmed down once I was sure they had left. I physically sagged into Jungkook’s back and moved to lean against my car and covered my face.  

The boys were all speaking so fast, I started feeling dizzy and there was a growing ringing in my ears. I slowly sank down using my car for support and didn’t even look at the 7 men stood before me. Softly, I heard a gentle voice trying to bring me back. “Are you okay?”  

I blinked, when had my vision gotten so blurry? I turned to the right when there was a gentle touch to my arm. I was then greeted with Jungkook’s soft face his eyes wide with worry. Suddenly, the full implications of what just almost happened hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water and tears came.  

He let out a surprised sound and the others seemed to quiet down at the sound of my cries. I covered my face again with my hands and my whole body shook. I felt a strong comforting hand on my back and running through my hair. I leaned into the touch and was glad that I was being allowed this moment to process what just happened.  

After a couple of minutes, I calmed down enough to not lean on the person anymore. I moved away slightly and tried to stand up. Hands were offered to me and hands on my hips also helped steady me as I stood again.  

“You’re really here?” I gasped in amazement when I took in the sight of BTS in front of me.  

Namjoon laughed and Yoongi gave me a soft reassuring smile Jin and Jimin nodded. I looked to my right and saw and then finally felt Jungkook beside me. “Oh my god,” I stilled. I covered my face again, though this time, it was from embarrassment. “I look like a mess.”  

Suddenly, it was like they realized that I knew who they were. “Are you ARMY?” Hoseok asked tentatively.  

I nodded, “yes, I’m ARMY,” I smiled and I couldn’t suppress my happiness anymore. I was having serious emotional whiplash. “Thank you,” I told the members and then turned to Jungkook and bowed to 90 degrees. “Thank you,” I tried to bow several times and then he put his hands on my shoulders trying to stop me.  

“No, no” he shook his head. “It’s okay.”  

I shook my head again and then Namjoon stepped in here. “Are you feeling okay?” I felt that I was still trembling but I nodded and Namjoon seemed to read me like an open book. “We are leaving to get dinner would you please join us?”  

I shook my head, as I looked at all of them. “I can't ruin your plans like that.”  

“You wouldn’t ruin our plans,” it was Yoongi who spoke up then.  

“What’s your name?” Jimin asked softly.  

I gasped not believing I could be so rude and bowed again, “____ imnida.”  

“Wooo~” it was Seokjin who gaped at me.  

“I forgot all of my Korean,” I apologized blushing more.  

“That’s okay, we speak English,” Hoseok smiled warmly at me.  

“I know,” I blushed. “Where are you having dinner?”  

“BCD, you know it?” Taehyung finally spoke up.  

I nodded, “I love to eat there! Their kalbi is delicious!”  

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook all smiled and laughed at my reaction. The older men seemed surprised and glad that I was even interested.  

“Can I go with you?” I blinked. Right. I had my car. I turned and smiled with a nod to Jungkook.  

“If you like, I just gave to move my coat.” I smiled warmly at him.  

I was making my way to the passenger door and then remembered the door was locked so I back tracked and leaned into the cab from the driver’s door to reach for my things and move them around. I scrambled around and I didn’t even think twice as I busied myself wish my task that they would be watching me. Suddenly the chatter around them got a little quiet and then stopped. I settled for draping my coat along the middle console and letting my backpack rest on the floor right in front of my seat. I made sure that it was closed properly so nothing would go rolling around.  

I stood back up and turned to face the seven men that kept me sane for the last 7 years and couldn’t help but be stunned by them yet again. Yoongi and Jungkook had been watching me closely it seemed and the others had their gazed pointedly fixed somewhere else. And then I remembered I was wearing pants that made my butt look delectable. I blushed and unlocked the car doors and told them I was ready.  

Jungkook nodded and moved past me and rest his hand on my hip lightly. I’d never been one to openly drool or be affected by just a man’s touch. Maybe it’s because it was Jungkook or maybe there was just something in the air because of Halloween. But I felt a warmth stir in the pit of my stomach and bit down on my lip to keep myself in check.  

“D-Does anyone else w-want to come along?” I smiled flushing hot, but now, from embarrassment.  

Taehyung nodded and moved to go sit behind Jungkook in the back seat and Jimin followed after. As the younger boys climbed into the car, I heard Jungkook’s sweet voice calling for me front he still open door on my side. “_____-ssi, turn car…on?”  

“Oh!” I nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat pressed on the brake and held the engine start button and my car purred to life. I plugged in my phone and adjusted the volume so the music would be soft and told Jungkook he could put whatever on, when Bigbang started playing through the speakers, I skipped through a couple of songs until I came to an Ariana Grande song. I gave him a small smile and got back out of the car and the other boys in the backseat leaned forward to tell Jungkook what to play.  

Jin smiled and said something in Korean that I didn’t understand and I blushed more as they all looked at me. “You know how to get there? Jin-hyung is asking,” Namjoon translated for me.  

I nodded, “I go there all the time. It’s just down the street that way,” I pointed in the correct direction to emphasize my point.  

Namjoon nodded, “can I come too?” Hoseok gave me a huge smile.  

I nodded with a tight smile, “it might be tight,” I hedged. Hoseok didn’t seem to understand but when he looked in the rear window at how Taehyung and Jimin were commandeering most of the real estate, he sighed. And yelled at them through the window.  

Jimin’s eyebrows were raised as he rolled down his window and said something in retaliation to his hyung. I smiled and giggled a little bit before turning back to Namjoon.  

“I will follow your car?” I asked.  

Namjoon nodded but then started shaking his hard and said “no, we will follow you.”

I nodded with sudden realization. I was driving 3 of the most famous people in the world. Of course, there was a worry that I would drive off and kidnap them. I wouldn’t ever dream of doing that, but I understood. With another nod and a command to drive safely from the hyungs, I got back into my car and settled into my seat.  

I stopped short again as I reached for my seatbelt and looked into my back seat to see Jimin and Taehyung laughing about something so casual and relaxed. Like they belonged there in my car, in my life. To be fair they were part of my life. I followed their music and campaigns religiously. And consumed all the media they created, but what wasn’t normal was having the 3 super stars in my little Honda hatchback.  

“Hi, ___-ah,” Jimin smiled leaning in forward.  

“Hi Jimin-ie,” I giggled as a blush came over me.

“How old are you,” Jimin smiled warmly.  

I giggled a little, “I’m 26.”  

Taehyung and Jungkook laughed at this. “So, you’re our noona?” Jungkook confirmed. I nodded and did my best to ignore the growing flame in my stomach at the sound of Jungkook calling me noona.  

There were gasps and laughs and clear teasing coming from the back seat and I couldn’t stop the smile that wanted to keep growing on my face. “Seatbelts,” I called while I clicked my own into place.  

Beside me I saw Jungkook fasten his own belt and turned back to check that Taehyung and Jimin had secured their own. With a determined nod I said, “okay let’s go! BCD here we come!”

The boys joined in my cheer and I shifted into sports mode again and slowly pulled forward to wait for the hyungs to get behind us in their car.  

Once the black SUV pulled up behind me, I pulled forward and settled into my seat talking as best as I could with the three men in my car. They asked silly questions like what is my favorite color and when I got my car. I answered their questions with the simplest answers that I could. I happily talked about my car telling them I bought it as a birthday present for myself.  

We were only three lights away from the restaurant, what could we really talk about? Still somehow, we were all laughing and talking together. We didn’t catch the first light; we could have but I suddenly was preoccupied with making sure we made it in one piece. My anxiety was through the roof—would they tell their hyungs that I was a safe and responsible driver? While I contemplated this, Boys with fun started playing through the speakers and I turned up the volume by 1 and started singing along and dancing—somehow— forgetting that I had an audience.  

Then the car was suddenly very quiet after I acted out along to Taehyung’s part in the song with J-Hope and I looked over to Jungkook with wide eyes and shock—had I really just done that? His mouth was hanging open in a teasing smile and his eyes were wide with wonder.  

I gasped and said, “don’t laugh!!”

And after another beat of silence, all three erupted with laughter.  

It was contagious, I couldn’t help but laugh too. The light we were stopped at changed to green and I made the left turn and quickly merged all the way to the right in preparation for the eventual right turn we would make.  

The guys were all loud and laughing and making me forget the trauma that I just experienced. What would have happened if Jungkook hadn’t stepped in? I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it while I was with them. I would soak up all the love and positive energy that I could while I had them with me.  

After two more lights, we were turning into the parking lot for BCD. I tried to get a close spot and parked in reverse so if we needed to leave quickly, it wouldn’t be an issue. Once I was parked, I grabbed my mask and tried to not think about the phrase printed on it. “Notice me Oppa”.  

It was meant to be a cute thing to wear if I ended up with him but those plans didn’t exactly pan out and here I was shrugging on my over coat to ward off the cold. I couldn’t believe I was wearing this embarrassing mask in front of the 7 men that I looked up to most. I waited for the boys to get out of the car and then locked the doors with the press of the lock button in my handle. Jimin saw my mask and I saw it in his eyes. The teasing glint in his eyes as he regarded me. “Don’t say anything!” I giggled pointing up at him thankful the mask covered most of, what I was sure was, my red face.  

“C’mon noona,” he teased lightly and the four of us made our way up to the entrance for BCD where the other members had already been ushered inside and to the back room.  

When we entered the ajumma smiled and greeted us in English. Jungkook greeted her warmly in Korean and explained who we were. She nodded and called someone over to lead us into the back room. I had never been back here so I was excited to see a part of the restaurant I hadn’t before.  

The hyungs and some managers were already seated and talking, ordering drinks and relaxing. When we came into the room, the guys called in greeting and I was stunned again with how handsome they all were. I was really here. Eating dinner with them. I couldn’t believe my luck.  

I must have been standing for too long because Yoongi waved at me and called me over with his hand. I blinked and sauntered over and started to really question my mask choice as he leaned in to speak softly. “Hi ____-ah,” He pat on the empty seat beside him and I slowly lowered myself onto the chair after removing my coat.  

I blushed and didn’t want to remove my mask because I knew I was so red underneath the blessed fabric. “Hi—Yoongi?” I hedged he nodded and blinked back at me.  

“I am your oppa?” He smiled teasingly at me and pulled on my mask a little, I pulled away from him a little as my blush deepened further. I nodded and was reminded again of the flame that flared up in my belly again. Now was so not the time. “So?” He raised his eyebrows waiting for me. And then it clicked.  

Was he in a power trip or something?? “H-hi Yoongi-oppa.” I winced, my voice sounded small, even to me.  

He leaned in like I had seen him do at a concert I attended in 2016. At the concert he was waiting for the audience to scream for him and scream we did I reminisced on the screams and cries I had belted out for him. He was my bias at the time and I was hoping that he would be satisfied with how loud the stadium had gotten. Suddenly I was back in my seat, watching how he put a hand cupped around his ear and motioned for me to repeat it again just like that night.  

By some miracle I found my voice again, pulled my mask down and spoke again. “Hi Yoongi-oppa.”

He seemed satisfied this time and leaned back in his chair to chime in on the conversation going on around us. A conversation I couldn’t really participate in since I couldn’t speak Korean and that I had completely lost due to a certain Min Yoongi distracting me. But it seemed that Jungkook was relaying to his hyungs about something that happened. I just sat silently and smiling just happy to be near them.  

Namjoon seemed to notice my lack of understanding because he was leaning over explaining what was being said to me so I could feel included. I smiled and thanked him and then we started having our own conversation. I was worried that because he has such a big brain that I wouldn’t be able to have stimulating conversation for him, but he didn’t make me feel nervous or anything.  

Eventually, a waiter came in with drinks and a soda was placed down in front of me. I thanked them all with nods and bows. And then a shot glass was placed in front of me. I gulped, a little nervous.  

“You can drink, right?” Namjoon looked at me as he seemed to notice that I got nervous.  

I smiled and gave a nervous laugh. “Yes I’m 26.” Though I didn’t voice that I get stupid when I’m drunk.  

“Oh?” He smiled with interest. “I am too.”  

I nodded, “yeah I know.” I blushed and hid my smile a little bit.  

“When Is your birthday?” He asked.  

Oh “February 21st.”  

“That’s only a few days after J-Hope!” Hoseok looked over in interest at the mention of his name.  

I smiled and nodded again stating again, “I know.”  

When Namjoon said “you know” at the same time we both laughed together. Hoseok must have asked him what we were talking about because Namjoon was suddenly gesturing to me and Hoseok’s eyes got wide as he answered back.  

He turned and looked at me and said “we have almost same birthday!”

I nodded along and smiled wider. “You’re older by a few days!”

He nodded and sat back in his seat suddenly energetic again. “Let’s be close since we are same age!”

I nodded and said, “okay.” Yoongi snorted beside me and I turned back to look at him and smile. “Neh, oppa?” I gasped suddenly and fished for my cellphone from my pocket and blushed when I felt Yoongi lean in closer to look at the purple screen and asked if I was okay.  

I had made a mood-board of Jungkook my Lock Screen and had just finished customizing my Home Screen just the day before. I nodded to Yoongi in answer and pulled up messages on my phone and text my mom that I was safe and with my friends so she wouldn’t worry me and apologized for not texting sooner. Not even a minute later, she replied back thanking me for letting her know.  

I smiled and let out a little sigh of relief. Yoongi had to have still been watching me because suddenly, his finger was tapping against my phone and looking at the settings I had in place. He scrolled through the photos I had cycling on screen and stopped at an edit of him from Boy with Luv. He pointed at the screen and then back at himself, that’s me.  

I nodded. “You were my first bias,” I giggled.  

“Who is now?” I blushed and locked the screen and illuminated it for him to see Jungkook’s face smiling up at him. Namjoon seemed to catch on our conversation at this point.  

“You mean it’s not me?” He played it like he was offended and I hurriedly tried to explain.  

“I love all of you. You’re all my bias and my wreckers at the same time. You’re all so talented and you’re so smart.” I suddenly realized that I was gushing about them to him and clammed up a little feeling self-conscious.  

Yoongi seemed to notice and gently pat on my arm trying to be reassuring. I gave him a small smile and he said something in Korean and Namjoon translated for me. I suddenly remembered about the iOS update that happened to put a translator on my phone.  

I hurriedly unlocked my phone but Facial recognition didn’t seem to work so I typed in my code. And pulled up the translator. I spoke into it, “maybe we can understand each other now.” And pressed play on the Korean side of it.  

The little voice that played back made Yoongi’s eyes light up in wonder as he nodded back.  

He then got his own phone out and found the translator and spoke what he said “okay, I think this can work.”

I smiled triumphantly and told Namjoon I didn’t want him to have to translate everything for me. He smiled and then relaxed back in his seat revealing Jungkook to his left. I smiled and turned back to Yoongi asking him about how he was doing. Why they were even in California.  

Yoongi answered and we went back and forth like this a few times. And then a waitress stopped between us to ask for our order. Yoongi motioned for me to go first. I ordered the kalbi combo with mild spice on my tofu soup.  

Yoongi snorted out a laugh again and I gasped at him waiting for him to finish ordering after me to ask him what was so funny. He explained that he laughed at how I ordered not spicy soup.  

I rolled my eyes and laughed more. “I get sick if I have too much spicy food.”

He nodded and suddenly concern clouded his eyes asking if I was okay eating here.  

I smiled and assured him that I’d been craving to eat here for a while now. I told him that I wanted to at least pay for my meal when I suddenly remembered that isn’t how Koreans gather. I apologized and bowed my head that I forgot.  

Namjoon’s ears pricked up at my comment. “What do you mean you forgot; did you live in Korea?”

I shook my head and spoke into the translator as I answered so Yoongi wouldn’t feel left out. “I wanted to move to South Korea so I learned about the culture over there. And I learned when you go out one person pays for everybody and you take turns.”

Namjoon nodded and confirmed and Yoongi asked. “Is that not how it is here?”

I shook my head no. “Everyone pays for themselves when you go out with a group. Or if one person pays, you pay your part to that person.”

Yoongi’s jaw dropped in shock and Namjoon just nodded along. Soon after sides were laid in front of us and I looked at the fish placed in front of me. And Yoongi turned his attention to the others I was deep in thought as I watched them all dancing around and joking with each other. I wished this time together could last forever.  

A wistful sigh left my lips as I had my phone facing up on the table in front of me when my phone lit up with a message from my crush.  

[21:37] from tall boi:  wanna meet up?

I sighed and rolled my eyes, the disappointment rolling off of me in waves seemed to alert the others.  

“Yah. ____-ah!” It was Hoseok. “Why you are sad?”

“Oh,” I smiled at him. “This guy wants me to meet up with him.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Hoseok laughed.  

I giggled more and shook my head no. “He’s not. Just a guy that wants to mess around.”

Namjoon blushed at that when Hoseok looked confused at my answer. I guess Namjoon explained what I said because Yoongi was suddenly upset and talking into his phone when it sounded out. “That guy sounds like an asshole block his number!”  

I laughed. Actually laughed, and nodded as I opened the text and didn’t answer leaving it on read.  

Jin suddenly looked over at me, “we make him jealous!”

I shook my head no. “We don’t have to do that.”

Hoseok was suddenly into it with how shy I had gotten. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

The rest of the group cheered and Jimin snatched up my phone from across the table and snapped a photo of me sitting between Yoongi and Namjoon.  The two men leaned into me and put their arms around me.  

I giggled and blushed even more and Taehyung hopped up from beside Jungkook and came to stand behind us, leaning down. Jin shot up out of his chair on the other side of us and shouted. “You need Jin, worldwide handsome!” And made his way over too.  

I couldn’t stop laughing and Jimin kept taking photos capturing every moment. Hoseok suddenly called out to the one of the staff and asked for them to take our photo together. He was gesturing to us and the staff member nodded and took my phone from Jimin.  

Suddenly I was stood up, Yoongi and Namjoon pushed our three chairs together and sat me down on their lap. Jungkook got closer, and Taehyung sat to Yoongi’s right. The three other men gathered behind us and posed. I don’t know how I didn’t notice, but they were each holding onto me somehow. I couldn’t help the smiles and the laughs that escaped me. I was actually happy.  

The staff member handed my phone to me and I thanked him profusely bowing many times.  

The next thing I knew, our food was coming out and our spots were rearranged so I was sitting between Jin and Jimin on the other side of the table now. Yoongi glared in our direction and Jimin childishly taunted him.  

I’m watching you! It looked like Yoongi warned Jimin who bowed his head and closed his eyes with a 10000-watt smile as we sat. Finally, someone said let’s eat and we all dug into our meals. Everyone grabbed from whatever plate they wanted and ate together.  

“What is your favorite BTS song?” Jimin asked me suddenly, pulling me from watching the others laugh and joke while they ate.  

I laughed lightly and answered honestly. “All of them. But the first song I ever heard was Haruman.”  

Jimin seemed to think back on it fondly.  

“Who is your favorite?” Jin asked me.  

I smiled and showed him my phone screen.  

“Yah! Not worldwide handsome Jin?!” he screeched incredulously.  

I smiled and giggled at his dramatics I could tell he was joking but it still made me laugh. “Oppa~~ don’t be like that.”

He’s eyes sparkled at my tone and he then continued to eat his food and joke with the other guys. And I looked on fondly.  

“Jungkook is really your favorite?” Jimin asked me.  

I smiled and blushed nodding and bumped my shoulder with his as I explained that they were all my favorite at one point. I just had a soft spot for the youngest of the group. Jungkook turned at the sound of his name, his eyebrows raised in question passing over me and then turning to Jimin.  

“Hyung?” He called in his melodic voice.  

I couldn’t get over hearing them without a filter of some sort. Be it a screen or a microphone from a concert. A girl could get used to this. Jimin spoke quickly to the maknae and the way his eyes gleamed with pride as he then smiled at me told me everything I needed to know about the exchange. He knew that he is my bias and there was so hiding it now.  

I blanched a little under his intense gaze and looked down at my plate blushing when Jimin saw this he took the opportunity to tease me. Bringing it to the attention of everyone at the table. I would have been mortified but I didn’t really care. I was again just so happy to be around then to hear them. I was rubbing elbows with Mr. Worldwide Handsome over here!  

Maybe I was getting overwhelmed again, but I felt a tear escape my eyes and Jin seemed to calm down and pat my back trying to comfort me.  

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked from my left I turned to him and I started sobbing. The guys all sprang up from their seats and tried to reassure me. I nodded and grabbed a napkin trying to dab away my tears. I had worked so hard to make my make up perfect tonight. I wasn’t going to ruin it I cursed myself internally. I curled up into myself as I tried to calm myself, patting on my shoulders in a soothing motion.  

Then Jungkook was knelt in front of me. “Can I hug you?” Was falling to my ears.  

I nodded and said, “yes please.” Then. I felt the world come to a standstill. I was overcome with his scent and the strength of his arms. I don’t even know why I was still crying. I hid my face in his chest and he suddenly lifted me up into his arms to move back to his seat and keep me in his lap. Jungkook kept a hand on my thigh and kept eating and offered me bites of food here and there.  

After a few minutes, I calmed down enough and moved to get up off his lap. He wrapped an arm around my waist and held me in place. My chopsticks were passed over to me and I ate happily from my new seat.  

“Tell me if I’m too heavy,” I told him while trying to lessen my weight on his leg. He blinked back at me in confusion so Namjoon translated since my phone was still at the other side of the table.  

Jungkook smiled and puffed his chest. “I’m Strong. I can hold you noona.”

I giggled and went back to eating happily. As we all sat and ate Jungkook’s hold on me loosened but he still kept a hand on my thigh.  

As we ate, the boys ordered booze and shots.  Jin wanted me to drink for him so I had initially tried to deny but then I found myself with my hand on my elbow like I had learned and turned my face away to drink the shot. I had turned in Hoseok’s direction and he pretended to be offended making the guys all start laughing.  

I couldn’t stop laughing with them. The next thing I knew, we were tumbling out into the cool air and it was late. Too late.  

“We’re going to go keep the party going, if you want to come?” Namjoon asked as Jungkook kept a firm hold on my waist from my left. I smiled and nodded before I looked at my phone and saw the time. 11:35 and several texts from my mom asking if I was alright.  

I told my mom I was okay just caught up in eating with my friends and looked up at them sadly. Well. I don’t really want to leave.  

Taehyung and Jimin cheered and grabbed me into their arms and I felt the loss of Jungkook’s arm around me. And we all cheered so ready for the party to continue. Namjoon smiled and said that he’d be coming in the car with me this time. Yoongi agreed and Jimin and Taehyung pouted.  

“Noona~” they pleaded I didn’t understand the rest of what they said because it was all in mostly drunk Korean.  

I giggled and shook my head not understanding. Jungkook was once again pulling me into his side and I looked up at him smiling.  

“You let me come, right?” Jungkook’s eyes were shining like stars.  

I nodded and Taehyung and Jimin groaned. I looked back at them confused and Taehyung tried to explain. “I come too?”

I nodded, “if you want to squish between your hyungs.” Taehyung cheered and Jimin looked offended.  

I giggled at their show of annoyance with each other. “Where are we going?” I asked Namjoon.  

“To our hotel?” He answered.  

I nodded, “okay. Let’s go!” Jungkook crowed into the night air and I joined him along with Taehyung. We raced back to the cars, Jungkook got shotgun again and we climbed into my car. I felt the purr of the engine coming alive again and smiled to myself. Or so I thought.  

“You really like your car,” Yoongi gave me a gummy smile.  

I nodded and looked back at him through the rear view while we waited for the younger boys to climb into the black SUV. I had the biggest smile on my face and reconnected my phone to the USB-port. A Spanish Selena song Tu Solo Tu started played and I mumbled an apology when Yoongi said to leave it on.  

Maybe it was the little alcohol in my system, but I started belting out with the song, just singing my heart out as though I didn’t have an audience. Once the song changed the younger boys were ready and motioned for me to follow. I nodded and shifted into sport again, following after.  

After I sang a bit more and the boys joined in, Namjoon spoke up. “Your singing is really pretty.”

I blushed and said no but he insisted so I finally let him have it. “Can I record your voice?”  

I knew it was Yoongi and for some reason it made my heart flutter. So, I answered with a question of my own. “Are you serious?”

I looked back at him briefly and saw him nod in response and if I thought my face was going to break in half before, that was nothing compared to this. I nodded and enthusiastically said yes. “I would love that.”

He hummed quietly and Jungkook brought my attention back to the road when he started asking me questions about how long I’ve been in California and if I was ever going to go to South Korea.  

“I’ll make it there some day,” I told him. “Maybe not for a while; I can’t speak much Korean. I want to be able to speak more.”  

“What can you say?”

I laughed and said “hi my name is ____. Or I’m ____.” I thought a little harder. “Where is it?” I couldn’t stop the bubbling laughter. “I took a class years ago but I didn’t have anyone to practice with so I lost most of it.”

“We can help you practice,” Namjoon smiled warmly from the back seat.  

I shook my head. “You’re already busy enough, you don’t need me wasting your time too.”  

“Will you help me with English?” Jungkook queried softly from my right.  

When I looked over at him, I stilled. He was looking at me from under his lashes turning the cuteness to 5 trillion. I nodded. “Of course, I would help you!”

“So, we help you too,” Yoongi smiled.  

I blushed and continued to follow after the younger boys and finally after a half hour drive of singing and laughing with the guys, we were pulling off the freeway and towards their hotel. Once we finally arrived, we parked and made our way inside. Yoongi took the lead and Jungkook jumped around annoying his hyungs and making me laugh.  

Namjoon and I were laughing talking about their plans while in California. I gushed about local beaches and then remembered they probably wouldn’t be able to go, first because the weather was getting colder, and two they’re celebrities.  

Namjoon smiled in understanding helping me not feel bad for my inconsiderate answer. I’d had my hands up and was talking animatedly about how I haven’t really been around people because of social distancing and my frustration about my cousin still having a perfectly normal time right now.  

I then paled considerably. “I hope I don’t get you guys sick.”

Yoongi had just stopped to enter a keycard into a door as I said this and he shook his head. And Namjoon looked down at me with a soft smile, “you won’t. It’s okay.”

Namjoon ushered me into the hotel room after Yoongi and Jungkook and we were greeted with the cheers of our arrival from the others.  

“You made it!” Jimin and Taehyung shot up and wrapped their arms around me, tugging me around. I laughed and told them to please put me down.  

Yoongi yelled out something in Korean as he was rifling through some bags. My name was somewhere in the mix there so I looked over to him. Jimin and Taehyung groaned out in response.  

“Yah hyung,” and then they grumbled on before letting me go. Yoongi called me over and I dropped my bag on a chair and shrugged off my coat.  

“We record?” He flashed me a gummy smile and I perked up instantly.  

Hoseok groaned at the sound of Yoongi’s words but then was slightly interested once Namjoon explained Yoongi wanted to record me. “___-ah come get a drink!” Hoseok called before I made it to Yoongi.  

Yoongi growled out some sort of response with a scowl and so I promised Hoseok. “After, I will.”  

Yoongi was typing away and I sat beside him watching as he fiddled with settings. “Okay.” He grabbed his phone and was searching something up.  

“I’m nervous,” I laughed. “What should I sing for you?”

“The same song?” He answered with a furrowed brow.  

“Oh, from the car?” I asked my eyebrows raised in question. He nodded and I pulled up the lyrics on my phone to make sure I would sing it correctly.  

I cleared my voice a little and then started singing, careful to make sure I put as much effort into the quality of the sound and making sure the pitch was right too. I sang through the whole song once doing my best to not notice the way the others slowly stopped having conversations to listen to me singing. I made the mistake of looking up from my phone at one point and met eyes with Jungkook and nearly stopped singing.  

I looked over at Yoongi sitting beside me and his eyes were already trained on me so intently I started blushing and nearly fumbled the last few words of the song.  

Namjoon came over and started asking about the song and about what it meant. I explained it’s about lovers and the woman singing about how she’s getting drunk and can’t get over the person.  

After a while longer, we were all singing and dancing together. I sat down after a while and lazily sipped at the beer that they had given me. I started feeling myself get tired. Once I let my body relax, I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and gasped at the time. It was 3 AM.  

“Holy shit,” I laughed. Namjoon plopped down next to me and asked what happened. I showed him the time and he was equally surprised.  

Yoongi sat to my left and had his eyebrows raised in question. I showed him the time and explained, “It’s late. I should probably go home.”

“No~,” I heard the drawn-out call at my words from Jin as he sat on the chair beside the sofa I was resting on.  

“Jin hyung, you’re drunk,” Taehyung laughed at the oldest member.  

Jungkook tumbled over to where we sat and landed at my feet, laying his head in my lap. Maybe it’s because I was drunk or because I knew I would have to leave them, whatever it was had me reaching out to touch him. It made me card my fingers through his pillowy soft hair and run my hands across his shoulders giving him a light massage.  

He hummed and I could feel it through his back and I marveled at him and the way he was built so strong. It made me miss his strong arms around my waist like they were only hours before. Jungkook relaxed into my touch and leaned his back against my knees. I hummed quietly and eventually got too tired. I pat on his shoulder affectionately and gave him a brief squeeze before sitting back all the way in my spot and resting my head against the back of the sofa.  

“You’re tired,” Yoongi commented.  

“Neh oppa,” I smiled up at him.  

“Stay here and rest,” Jungkook said.  

I shook my head, “I should go home.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Taehyung pointed out remembering my earlier comment of not wanting to drink and drive.  

I frowned. I had been drinking and quite a lot of the bottles laying around were anything to go by. I hummed in response, not able to add much to the conversation.  

“Stay,” came Jungkook’s dulcet tones again.  

Yoongi put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close. Jimin sauntered over and sat down beside Jungkook leaning against him on the floor.  

“No one wants to cuddle with me?!” Jin screeched clearly joking but still trying to get someone to going join him. Namjoon let out a heavy sigh and went to sit in Jin’s lap. I chuckled softly and watched as they all talked with each other. Hoseok finally flopped down onto the mattress and scrolled through his phone.

I blinked and tried to hold back a yawn while Yoongi got comfortable in his spot and Taehyung sat beside us. “Are you staying noona?” I heard someone call as my eyelids were harder and harder to keep open. Yoongi had started humming a soft tune. I vaguely recognized it as Seesaw and hummed in response again.  

Hoseok was up again because I heard him walking around. Someone removed the beer bottle that was in my hand and then I was being lifted up. I opened my eyes briefly as much as I could and heard Jin say something in Korean. I was too tired to really ask, Namjoon called out to whoever was carrying me and I heard a chest rumble in response.  

The soft quality reminded me of Jungkook but I wasn’t sure. I blinked up blearily at the person holding me and was met with Jungkook’s sharp jawline. I sighed and snuggled closer into him; I briefly noticed his grip tightening on me slightly.  

“Just rest noona,” he hummed the smell of his breath and alcohol washed over me. Jin called back for Jungkook from down the hallway. I also heard Yoongi too but couldn’t be bothered to really try to pay attention.  

When I finally managed to open my eyes again, I was looking at Taehyung’s back as he opened the door to another room. I tried my best to ask in Korean, “Where are we?”  

Jungkook and Taehyung both cooed at me seemingly praising me based on their tone. I hummed happily once I was deposited onto a cool and soft surface. Someone removed my shoes. I felt hands on my waist and the zipper for my pants coming down.  

“What are you doing?” I huffed in annoyance.  

I didn’t hear a response. Just felt my pants being pulled down and quickly a silky soft material was being pushed up my legs. I forced my eyes open and laughed when I saw Jungkook and Taehyung trying to get a pair of basketball shorts on me. I helped them and raised my hips. I heard them huff a “thank you noona” in Korean.  

I heard fabric rustling and sighs and they were chatting about the day. I couldn’t quite catch everything. I briefly heard my phone going off in the background and one of them handed my phone to me. I opened my eyes and saw it was a text from my mom.  

[4:02 AM] from Mom: are you coming home?  

I answered back. [4:05 AM] to Mom:  nope still out with my friends. I’m not coming home tonight.  

Her response was immediate. [4:05 AM] OK you need to stay safe.  

I sighed and turned off my phone. And flung it to the end of the bed. I heard laughs and snickers in response to my attitude. I grumbled out, “Kookie~”  

“Neh, noona.”  

I heard the smile in his laugh. “Cuddles…” I racked my brain, trying to remember the phrase in Korean, “hold me tight.”  

I heard Taehyung right behind me then. His chuckle was right in my ear as he cooed at me for speaking Korean again. I shivered and settled under the covers comfortably as he had pulled them back. Finally, Jungkook came into bed too and I sighed happily when he pulled me to rest on his chest.  

Taehyung draped himself across my back and held onto my waist. I fell asleep quickly after that, praying that the last 12 hours had not been a dream.  

A/N: This probably won’t have a second part-- hence calling it a one shot. anywho;; I’m safe, nothing eneded up happening that night because a higher power was looking out for me that night-- so enjoy this crack piece and talk to me or something or i’ll just go off into the void and not do anything else but edit the next chapter in Music of the Night.. so i’m off to do that! 

Master L i s t | Request  

[shwazzberryswriting]

Thin Walls

Pairing: Xiaojun x Original Female Character, BUT this is mostly about Yangyang, Hendery, Lucas, Ten, and Winwin being idiots

Genre: Crack, Comedy, Humor, WayV Being A Mess

Summary: Yangyang and Ten weren't supposed to know about Xiaojun's hookup on their last night in Bangkok, but there they were, in Lucas and Winwin's room, everyone but Kun were listening to Xiaojun have a better night than them next door. ---- This is my companion piece to my 500 word drabble "The Last Night in Bangkok".

Word count: 1.7k

Rating: PG-13; sex talk and mentions of sex noises, one kissing scene, some swearing

Author’s Note: I never intended to write anything beyond those 500 words in my drabble, but it’s inspired this crack piece. I kept thinking about a scenario where the guys would be immature and listen in on Xiaojun. I can’t help myself when I touch stuff in crack territory. Thank you for reading!

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    It was supposed to have been a secret but Yangyang picked up on a scheme happening when he saw Hendery leave his hotel room just 20 minutes after they returned to their hotel. WayV had had an eventful day in Bangkok, and they were all supposed to be getting ready for bed since they had a flight back to Seoul the next day.

    "Wow, you smell like a million bucks," Hendery said as he exited the room, looking behind him.

    "When are you leaving?" Xiaojun's voice responded, soft and calm, which meant he was nervous about something.

    "Where are you going?" Yangyang spoke up, walking out of his room, which was directly across from Hendery's room. He’d wanted to hang out with Hendery and Xiaojun since Ten and Kun left with their manager to grab some late night snacks from the convenience store just across the street.

    "Don't break your bed," Hendery said before Xiaojun shut his lips tight, his eyes narrowing slightly, and shut the door on Hendery. With a self-satisfied grin, Hendery finally turned to face Yangyang. "Hey, man. Uh, Jun has a fever and I don't want to get sick so I'm rooming with Lucas and Winwin."

    The door to the right of Xiaojun's room swung open and Lucas walked out, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

    "Hey, Jun's hot date arrive yet?" Lucas asked Hendery in a stage whisper.

    "No! Shut up before we get caught!" they heard Xiaojun's muffled voice demand from behind Hendery.

    "Jun's getting laid?" Yangyang asked. Hendery and Lucas froze as they stared at WayV's youngest member.

    "Uh," was all Hendery managed to say before the elevator doors nearby swung open loudly and they heard Ten's voice.

    "...takes me forever, too," Ten was talking to a chick who had a nose ring, her jet black hair tied into short pigtails.

Ten and the chick stopped nearby where Lucas, Yangyang and Hendery were standing as they continued talking. She and Ten were pointing to the tattoos on their bodies, and he grinned as she pointed to a large tattoo on her right hip. Part of it was visible as she was wearing a yellow crop top, her fingers gliding over the ink on her skin. Why were Xiaojun and Ten flexing their hookup skills?

    “Hey, you all should be in bed,” Kun said as he handed a bag to Yangyang. “We have a flight to catch in the morning.”

    “We’ll manage, Kun-ge,” Lucas replied as Kun handed him a bag of crisps though Lucas hadn’t asked him to buy him a snack. “You should get to bed, though. Old people are very grumpy when they don’t get enough rest.”

    “Don’t make so much noise,” Kun lectured the guys as Hendery and Yangyang joined in on teasing Kun. “Go to bed soon.”

    Kun and their manager left for their room next to the room Yangyang was sharing with Ten.

    “Hey, Ten, did you get a drink?” Lucas spoke up immediately, waving his hand in front of Ten’s face.

    “Uh-yeah,” Ten replied, turning his attention away from the woman he’d been talking to. “Are you guys OK? Why is everyone out in the hallway?”

    “Um, have a good night,” the girl said, giving Ten a polite smile. “I’m meeting my date here.”

    “Bye, Malee,” Ten said, having gotten her name when he’d entered the elevator with her.

She gave a nervous laugh as she walked to Hendery and Xiaojun’s room, and knocked on the door, paying no mind to the 4 guys staring at her. Granted, Ten was the only one checking her out, while the other guys were busy wondering how Xiaojun had charmed a chick who seemed too cool to be into a nervous weirdo like him.

    “Hey,” Xiaojun greeted with a bright smile when he opened the door to his room. His eyes lit up as his date greeted him cheerfully.

    Malee placed a hand on Xiaojun’s shoulder and kissed him as she took his hand with her other hand, guiding it to rest on her hip. Xiaojun slammed the door shut behind him, seeming to not have noticed that everyone but Winwin and Kun had witnessed him kiss a girl Ten had been flirting with. Yangyang threw his hand over his mouth and made spurting noises, trying to stop himself from laughing as he saw the confused and affronted look on Ten’s face. His eyes were furrowed and his mouth was hanging open in shock. Lucas and Hendery joined in on the snickering as Lucas pushed his bandmates into his room. By this point, they all had to keep together to prevent Kun from finding out.

    “So she’s hooking up with Jun?” Ten asked, sounding offended, once Lucas and Hendery brought everyone up to date on Xiaojun’s last night in Bangkok.

    “How many people are we going to have in here?” Winwin demanded, curled up in his bed, his eyes glued to his phone. “I was told it was just Hendery.”

    “Shh! Shh! Shh!” Lucas shushed, waving his arm in the air as he sat close to the wall that was facing Xiaojun’s room, putting his ear close to the wall.

    “Really?” Ten scoffed, giving Lucas a stink eye as Hendery sat down on Lucas’s bed and opened up a bottle of water to drink.

    Yangyang stood next to Lucas and mirrored what Lucas did. Both guys threw their hands over their mouths as there were sounds of what had to be Malee moaning followed by what unmistakably was Xiaojun groaning. Lucas’s eyes went wide as he continued to listen and Yangyang doubled over, laughing so hard no sound came out. He fell down to the floor and weak wheezing noises came out of him before Ten bent down to check if he was OK.

    “Xiaojun!” they heard Malee say loudly, her voice both rough and sweet, before there were more sex noises from both parties on the other side of the wall.

    Xiaojun and Malee continued making plenty of sex noises and Winwin continued to shrink into his bed and hide under his covers while the other guys were trading commentary. As Lucas ate his crisps, he gave an impressed nod at a noise Malee made. Hendery traded snacks with Yangyang as Ten laid down onto his stomach on Lucas’s bed.

    “No, baby, put that away,” Ten said, pointing at Yangyang as he saw Yangyang pull out his phone. “We can’t record this.”

    “What?” Yangyang replied. “I’m going to take a selfie, so I can show Jun what I looked like when he got lucky. ‘Xiaojun, I took this when your date screamed your name,’ it’ll be funny to see him get embarrassed. Ten, do you remember when you thought that girl was into you but it’s Jun she’s into?”     Hendery and Yangyang began snickering while Lucas gave a shit eating grin as Ten got up and motioned like he was going to choke Yangyang, but merely shook his head and sat down at the foot of Winwin’s bed. They were all stuck in the room, both intrigued and mortified at being able to hear Xiaojun getting laid.

    Things went quiet until Lucas realized that Xiaojun and Malee had moved to the bathroom. He, Yangyang, Hendery and Ten moved along the wall to get closer to where Xiaojun’s bathroom was located. The noises in the shower sounded much more lewd which made Hendery’s face turn red and he squealed into a pillow as he got into Winwin’s bed.

    “Did you really have to?” Winwin groaned as he felt Hendery sit down next to him. “You guys all act like you’ve never watched porn or something. Go to bed.”

    Unable to put up with the heightened horny state of his room, Winwin left to find some peace and quiet in Ten and Yangyang’s room. It was his loss, because 5 minutes after Winwin left, the guys were finishing their snacks when they heard Xiaojun and his date talking.

    “It’s too bad you won’t be here for another night,” Malee said. “My college is doing a fashion show tomorrow, and my friends are throwing the after party. They would have totally loved to meet you and your bandmates.”

    “At least you and I got to meet each other,” Xiaojun replied.

    “Wow! That’s smooth,” Lucas said in a stage whisper. Ten looked impressed too.

    “Let me know if you return to Bangkok soon?”  Malee said, her voice sounding hopeful.

    “I mean, I don’t know if-when...you know,” Xiaojun was beginning to stutter over his words, clearing his throat a little too much. “I can’t-always know-I mean, I would like to-”     The guys all began snickering as Xiaojun’s true nature sprung to life. He’d just had wild sex and didn’t start to fall apart until he had to wrap things up.

    “This is the guy who landed a hot date,” Ten said softly to himself.

    “You’re so cute,” they heard Malee say in response to Xiaojun’s word vomit. “I had a great time.”

    “Say something,” Ten gritted through his teeth when there was nothing but silence for more than 5 seconds.

    “Come on,” Lucas said softly, raising his fist in support of Xiaojun.

    “Uh, yeah,” Xiaojun said as he sounded like he forgot how to use words, “you were...you’re such a beauty.”

    “You’re so sweet,” she said, her voice overflowing with affection. It was shocking to all four guys that somehow this girl found everything about Xiaojun appealing, even when he was being an awkward weirdo. “You’re so cute when you get shy with me. I can’t leave you yet.”

    “Malee, I can get my-oh, fuck-yes!” they heard Xiaojun’s voice say loudly.

    Lucas’s eyes went big and he returned to pressing his ear against the wall. Hendery and Yangyang looked at each other with their mouths open as they froze at the unexpected twist in Xiaojun’s hookup.

    “You’re kidding me,” Ten muttered, throwing his hand over his mouth.

    Xiaojun made high pitched noises, and Hendery and Yangyang could take it no longer, falling onto Lucas’s bed as they gave out belly laughs. They rolled around and kicked the air and the bed as the sex noises continued. Lucas joined in on the laughing, and Ten could only shake his head in disbelief. When they heard Xiaojun make the real farewell with his date ten minutes later, Ten talked the other guys into finally going to bed.