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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Let Me Love You (Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho × Plus sized! Reader (Female) × Song Mingi

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Summary: After finding out their girlfriend has been feeling insecure about her body, Mingi and Yunho take matters into their own hands to remind her that she is beautiful.

Word Count: 4.5+K

Warnings: Body insecurities (remember you are beautiful just the way you are), poly relationship, oral (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), unprotected sex (always use protection). (This was utter trash)

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @brie02 @deja-vux @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @nanamarkie @minhyukmyluv @yunsangoveryonder

Special requested by @monbaebes

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Watching her favorite boys play around on the seashore, Y/N chuckled softly as she returned her gaze on the fruit in front of her. Picking up a small knife, she carefully began peeling some of the mangoes, apples and other of the juicy produce they had brought with them. Meanwhile she focused on making sure they had something to replenish their energy with, one of her lovers was concentrated on building a rather complicated architecture with the sand under his feet. Slowly but surely, the castle was beginning to take form and the man couldn't be much happier or pleased than seeing his masterpiece come to life.

"Mingi, think fast!" The other tall male shouted as he tossed the beach ball he was holding in the other's direction.

Mingi's naturally small eyes widened significantly as he witnessed his creation crumble down due to the impact of the beach ball colliding on top of it.

"Oops! Sorry bud!" The culprit grimaced as he saw the result of his little trick.

Immediately standing up, Mingi began chasing after his friend.

"I'm going to kill you Yunho!" He threatened, Yunho running and taking cover behind the oblivious girl who saw nothing that took place.

"What in the world?" She looked back and forth between the two guys.

Pointing an accusatory finger at him, Mingi let out a huff.

"He destroyed my sand castle that I was working so hard on!" He exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to." Yunho defended himself.

Not wanting them to get into a silly fight during their vacation, Y/N began to calm them both down.

"Come on you guys, you're making a scene over things kids would argue over. Seriously, this is why we hardly go out."

Hearing her displeased tone, the boys quickly straightened up their act and decided to just let it go. Seeing the delicious fruit in front of them, the young men sat at opposite sides of Y/N and dug into the food. She was grateful she opted for packing plenty of fruit given how much her boyfriends ate. She sometimes wondered if it was because they were so tall or because their stomachs were a bottomless pit. She decided a long time ago that it was probably a combination of the two.

As they enjoyed their snacks while enjoying the view in front of them, Y/N's wandering eyes soon locked themselves on the two women sitting not far from them. Although she wanted to look away before any negative thoughts clouded her mind, she couldn't help but admire their long, slim legs, their small waists and flat tummies. She envied their shape that they confidently showed off in their revealing and sensual bikinis, making more than a few heads turn in their direction to rake their eyes on their glamorous bodies. And there she was, feeling too big in her cami top and shorts.

Looking away with eyes falling on the strawberry she was holding, Y/N suddenly felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Losing her appetite, she tossed the fruit back in the container and just sat back, unable to hide her uncomfortable face which Yunho noticed right away.

"Honey, is something wrong? Do you not feel well?" He asked which immediately sparked the attention of the other male.

Although she didn't feel well indeed, Y/N didn't want to cause any alarm or have them fret over her behavior and decided to make up an excuse.

"I guess maybe I'm just exhausted after spending so much time out in the sun. I think I'm just going to go back to the hotel room. You guys stay here if you want."

Plastering on a reassuring smile, she gave them no chance to argue or say anything else as she quickly got off the beach towel and started heading back towards the hotel that was just in front of the beach. Her arms were crossed protectively in front of her chest, head lowered to avoid eye contact with the young men who were heading in the opposite direction. She shut her eyes when she heard them snicker behind her, no doubt making fun of her figure. She just wanted to lock herself in the room and crawl under the covers of the bed, just her alone with nobody else.

But the sudden calls for her from behind let her know that it wasn't going to be the case.

"Geez, couldn't you at least wait for us baby?" Mingi pouted as he linked an arm around her.

"Sorry, didn't want to cut your playtime at the beach short." She felt even more bad knowing they decided to follow her back.

"It's fine darling. It was getting too hot anyways. Besides we can have just as much fun in the hotel room as we do in the beach." Yunho added, leaning his face so he could whisper in her ear.

"Or maybe even more fun." He snickered suggestively, which made her blush and cling closer to the male on her right, who simply let out a small snort.

"Don't tease her Yunho. You know how shy she gets with these things." Unable to hold back from making her even more flustered, Mingi's hand that was on her waist dropping to slightly pinch her butt cheek.

"And it makes me want to eat her up even more."

With a soft huff, she shoved his hand away from him and simply walked faster to hide from their vulgar teasing that had her cheeks burning bright red.

"She's so adorable." Yunho chuckled, to which Mingi agreed with. Taking advantage of the fact she couldn't hear them, both of them started whispering a few things amongst themselves, huge grins plastering on their faces as they planned out how they were going to spend their night with their lovely girlfriend.

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Staring at her reflection in the long body mirror, Y/N cringed at the sight. She knew the guys were waiting outside in the hot tub for her, no doubt aching to see her in the dark blue bikini they had picked out for her, a color Mingi aggressively shoved into Yunho who wanted to go instead for a more baby pink choice, but eventually caved into the other's choice. She didn't feel up to going out in it though, she felt it unflattering and unsuitable for someone her size. Stripping out of it, she tossed on a tank top and shorts once more, wanting to be as covered up as much as possible. Feeling satisfied with that, she quickly came out of the bathroom, not wanting to make the boys wait any longer.

Hearing the glass door of the room slide open, the young men excitedly looked over hoping to see their gorgeous girlfriend in a swimsuit they bought her, but their faces fell flat when they saw her clothing choice.

"What happened to the bikini we bought you? Oh god! Please don't tell me we got the wrong size." Mingi groaned, already beating himself up for an imaginary mistake.

"No it fit fine, I just.... I just prefer being like this." She replied as she slipped her body inside the hot water, setting herself in between both of the men, who wasted no time in drawing their bodies closer to her, effectively trapping her.

Looking up from one and then to the other, Y/N knew by the smiles on their face that they were up to something else and it wasn't particularly pure. Taking the lead as he usually did, Yunho brought a hand up to trace the outline of her jaw.

"So pretty..." He muttered as he bent his face down to hers.

Starting off with small pecks, Yunho eventually pressed his lips deeper into hers, hand still cupping her jaw so his thumb could draw circles around her cheek. Y/N moaned when she felt his tongue dart forward and infiltrate her mouth. She gave in and allowed him absolute control, moaning louder when he pulled her tongue inside his own mouth and briefly sucking on it. For a few minutes they were lost in their little world until the third person in the relationship reminded them of his presence.

"Ok you got your turn, now let me make out with my baby."

As soon as Yunho's mouth was detached from her lips, it was quickly replaced by Mingi's, who unlike the other male, was more fervent and rougher with his kisses. Whereas Yunho preferred a lot more tongue action, Mingi enjoyed nipping at his lover's lips. Indeed he made sure to get her lips as swollen and red as possible. His teeth endlessly tugged at her bottom lip, a smirk appearing on his features each time he drew out a gasp or whine from the girl in front of him. Her sounds intensified when she felt Yunho's lips occupying themselves on her shoulder and neck, leaving small love bites on the visible patches of skin. His large hand dove underwater to clasp at the end of her top, rising it up slowly so he could take it off her.

Feeling her insecurities rise up once more, Y/N quickly withdrew his hand off her body, ending the makeout session with her other boyfriend in the process.

"Baby did we do something wrong? Did we push it too far?" Yunho immediately worried that they hurt her in any way. Mingi was also mirroring the same feeling his friend was bearing.

"No, it's not you guys...it's me."

Both of the men looked at each other in confusion.

"Are you sick? Is that it? Why didn't you say something before." Mingi brought a palm over her forehead, attempting to figure out if she had a fever or not.

Shaking her head, Y/N took a deep breath before she went any further.

"I'm not sick I just hate my body ok? I hate being chubby, it makes all the clothes I wear look ugly on me. I wish I was skinnier like some of the female idols you guys see almost on the daily. Maybe then I'd be more attractive for you guys.."

Her confession broke them to pieces. They couldn't believe she felt that way and they cursed themselves for not noticing earlier on about their girlfriend's insecurities.

"But darling, you are very attractive just the way you are." Mingi spoke up, though they could tell his words didn't have much of an effect on her.

Joining in to make sure she felt loved, Yunho tilted Y/N's face so she could clearly see his sincerity at his next words.

"Listen to me, your body is very gorgeous just the way it is. You may not believe it, but trust me when I say Mingi and I are absolutely crazy about your body. It makes you more irresistible and we wouldn't have you any other way."

His words lightened her mood just a bit, a hint of a smile starting to form on the corners of her lips.

"And we're not the only ones who think so. There were some assholes who were shamelessly checking you out while we were trying to catch up with you back on the beach." Mingi added, face frowning as he recalled the way they heard the group of men talking about their girlfriend in such a lewd manner.

"What? N-no, I'm sure you got it wrong. They were probably making fun of me." Her theory however was quickly shut down by Yunho.

"No baby, we heard them clearly as they went on and on about how hot you look....among other things that weren't exactly family friendly." Although he tried to hide it, Yunho couldn't keep his teeth from gritting against each other in a jealous manner.

"And we saw how their faces kept turning to stare at your ass." Mingi recalled rather unhappily.

Y/N felt even more embarrassed now, her hands coming up to hide her reddened face, which continued to stay hidden even when she felt both males press themselves into her.

"But if that still doesn't convince you, how about you let us demonstrate how much we adore your figure?"

Peeking out and uncovering her face, Y/N took in their hungry gazes that were awaiting for permission to devour her. Although she nodded slightly, it wasn't enough for them.

"Darling use your words please. We'd much rather hear you say how much you want us as well." Mingi deepened his voice enough to cause an effect on her.

Biting down on her lip, Y/N's voice shyly spoke out.

"Please.... touch me." She gulped before uttering her next words.

"Make love to me."

Finally hearing the magic words, both men stood up, their bodies drenched and pouring water. Taking hold of Y/N, Mingi brought her out of the hot tub as well and sat her in front of him on the wood extension of the hot tub. Reaching for her shirt, he quickly peeled it off her body and moved it somewhere else while Yunho took care of her lower half, removing her shorts and equally discarding them somewhere else.

"Fuck, she looks so damn pretty." Yunho marveled at the sight of her bare, soaked body right in front of him.

Snaking his hands down her torso, Mingi gripped the top of her thighs so he could pry them open, letting Yunho gaze into her exposed heat. He let out a chuckle at his friend's star struck expression.

"Well? Don't just stand there like an idiot. Put those long ass fingers of yours to work." Mingi told him.

Instructing Y/N to keep her legs wide open, Mingi brought his hands back up her body so they could cup her breasts. He squeezed them in between his fingers, astonished at feeling how soft and tender they were. While she was still getting adjusted to the feeling of Mingi's hands around her boobs, Yunho came up in front of her and began kissing along her collarbone, making her tilt her head back.

"God your boobs are so squishy." Mingi groaned as he pressed them against each other, thumbs tweaking at her nipples.

While Mingi's hands continued playing around with her chest, Yunho took advantage of her dazed state to brush his fingers along one of her thighs. Creeping it closer in between her legs, his thumb started slow and gentle motions on her clit. He smiled against her neck when he felt her shudder as he pressed down on her button.

"Mingi be sure to hold her steady while I finger her pretty pussy. You know how she tends to get."

Removing his hands off her breasts, Mingi proceeded to move them to her hips, knowing fully well they'd be wanting to buck into Yunho's hand. Y/N looked down and watched intently as one of Yunho's fingers slowly slipped inside her hole. She gaped with amazement as he effortlessly slid his finger out of her body and then back inside. It always amazed her how such a little action could make her so weak and pliant towards her lovers. Yunho of course knew this and loved to use it against her. Smiling ever so smugly, he inserted a second finger into her hole, his pace starting to pick up. Her breath hitched as she craned her neck back to rest her head on Mingi's shoulder, the latter taking the opportunity to plaster kisses on the side of her cheek.

"Do you like having Yunho's fingers inside of you babygirl?" He asked, lips brushing against her earlobe.

"Y-yes." She responded.

When her thighs tried to close, Mingi was quick to pry them back apart, his grip tight enough that they could leave prints on her skin.

"No babygirl, keep those pretty legs of yours open for Yunho."

Knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge, Yunho angled his fingers upward so they could rub at her sweet spot as he continued to wiggle his fingers inside of her. A third finger was added to the combination, which had the recipient crying out from the stretch.

"How on earth are you always so tight babygirl? It's like we don't fuck you enough." Yunho expressed, thumb circling on her nub with more detailed and faster motions.

The wet and sloppy sounds emanating from between her legs were like music to both men's ears. They enjoyed hearing how wet they could make her become, Mingi especially licked his lips as he saw how her folds started to glisten from all the arousal seeping out of her.

"Shit, her pussy looks so good. I can't wait to eat her out."

Shooting a smirk to his friend, Yunho worked his fingers deeper into his girlfriend's core, thrusting them sporadically in an effort to bring her closer to her high.

"Well just let me get her cum with my fingers and then I'll leave her in your hands..... or should I say mouth?"

Hearing them say what they were going to do to her made Y/N shudder. With eyes shut, her voice slightly broke into half cries half whimpers as she came on Yunho's fingers. Mingi's hold on her thighs prevented her from shutting her legs and thus making her orgasm feel more intense as it washed all throughout her body. Making sure to keep his fingers lodged inside until she came down from her high, Yunho gently leaned in to press a kiss on the corner of Y/N's mouth.

"Look babygirl."

Opening her eyes, she was met with the sight of Yunho's fingers pulling out of her heat. They were covered completely in her cum, leaving her surprised that she could produce that much from just his fingers. Keeping eye contact with her, he brought his fingers up to his lips and licked them clean.

"Oh Mingi, you're going to definitely enjoy eating her out." Yunho locked eyes with the other male, sending him a knowing wink.

"Then I guess I better not let her juices go to waste."

Moving her body so she could face him, Mingi layed down on his back and motioned for Y/N to move herself on top of his face, which she hesitated to do. Sensing what she was worried about, Mingi smiled at her.

"Baby, it's ok. I want to feel those thick thighs of yours on me. Now come over here and smother my face with your sweet pussy."

Getting help from Yunho who took hold of her arms, he placed her right on top of Mingi's face. Spreading her lips apart, Mingi's tongue came up to lick up the leftover arousal from Yunho's previous fingering session. Y/N couldn't help but gasp not just from the over sensitivity of her pussy, but from Mingi's warm mouth consuming her taste. Closing his eyes, Mingi lost himself in the sweetness her body had to offer. Flicking his tongue out, he made sure to pay close attention to her clit, circling the tip of his wet muscle around it. As if they had a mind of their own, Y/N's hips began to slowly grind down against Mingi's tongue movements. When she noticed what she was doing, she made an attempt to stop her motions.

"No babygirl. Show Mingi how much you enjoy having him eat you out. He told you to smother his face and that's what you're going to give him. After all, that is what he wants. Don't you Mingi?" Yunho piped up.

The man underneath Y/N responded with a muffled moan against her wetness. His hands clasped themselves on her ass, harshly slamming her down until her heat was covering the entirety of his face. Guiding her hips, he made her drag her core along his tongue over and over, slurping up every inch of tender flesh without leaving any patch dry. Y/N began panting, each stroke of Mingi's tongue making her fall deeper in that hazy state she had been in just moments ago while Yunho had his fingers knuckles deep in her. And both men knew it, they had learned and memorized each pitch of her sounds and every tick of her body to know what she liked and when she'd come crumbling down from the pleasure they gave her.

Knowing she needed a little encouragement, Yunho began peppering open mouth kisses along her neck as his fingers brushed along the sides of her waist.

"Go ahead love. Cum all over Mingi's face. Make a mess of his pretty face." He softly instructed her. A pleased grin framed Yunho's face as merely seconds later, Y/N fulfilled his command. Mingi groaned wildly as his face was smothered by her mound, her thighs trembling and clenching around his skull as another flood of her juices poured out onto his face. Making sure to lick up as much as possible, Mingi detached his mouth from her reddened folds with an audible pop, a proud smirk on his face that he was not wiping off at any moment.

Knowing she was still too worked up from her orgasm, Yunho carefully lifted her up into his arms. Gesturing for Mingi to follow, he carried her bridal style back inside their room, where he layed her down on the soft king sized bed. Stripping themselves out of their swimming trunks, the men whispered a few words amongst each other before reaching the decision of who got to have her first. The beaming look on Mingi's features answered her thoughts on who it was.

Setting himself right next to her, Mingi began stroking his already hard length.

"Come here baby. Hop your pretty self on top and ride me." He motioned for her to sit on top of him.

With hands pressed to his chest, Y/N slowly sunk herself down until his entire cock was safely nestled inside her. Hissing at the excruciatingly tight grip her tender flesh had on him, Mingi looked over to Yunho, who already had one hand wrapped tightly on his dick.

"We really should fuck her more often, she's unbelievably tight." His voice rasped out.

"Well why don't you do something about it? You're literally inside her idiot." Yunho reminded him rather agitated, anxious to get his own turn with his beloved girl.

With sharp cries, Y/N held onto the headboard in front of her as the man underneath her started pounding his hips up into her. Their moans were filling up the room, along with the slick sounds protruding from between their thighs, where they were connected. Yunho eagerly watched them, his hand working to stroke his twitching cock, making sure not to speed up in case he accidentally made himself cum. He knew he'd get his turn soon, but for the moment, he reveled at seeing the two individuals he cared about the most be so intimate with each other. He watched as their facial muscles started contorting and scrunching up with pleasure, their bodies starting to layer a thin sheen of sweat from the intensity of their love making.

Already vulnerable from the previous 2 orgasms, Y/N started to feel that familiar heat pooling in her lower abdomen, spreading under her skin and making her dizzy with lust. Mingi's pace turned slightly more rough. He loved watching as he made his girlfriend ride his cock, especially when he was blessed with the sight of her breasts bouncing right in front of him. He thought it was one of the most amazing sights to behold. Sensing that she was close given how worked out they had gotten her before and by the way her sounds grew more frantic, Mingi gripped at her sides to hold her down as he bucked his cock deep enough to have her crying out.

"That's it babygirl. Let yourself go. Cum all over me." He grunted at her, feeling himself reach his own brink from the frenetic pace he set for themselves.

With aching thighs, Y/N violently shook on top of him, vision darkening as her mind only payed attention to the sensation of her walls clamping around her lover's cock. Feeling overly constricted to the point of hurting in a most delicious grip, Mingi quickly pulled himself out of her core before any of his cum could start spilling inside her. With the help of his hand, he finished himself off by spurting drops of cum onto her thighs and stomach, some of them dripping off to land on the sheets underneath them.

"Oh my God." Mingi threw his head back onto the pillow behind him as he tried to steady his racing heart.

Finally seeing his cue to come in, Yunho fitted himself on the large king sized bed and carefully pulled Y/N off Mingi's lap to sat her on top of his own. Whereas Mingi preferred having her face him, Yunho opted to keep her facing away, pressing his chest onto her back. His voice gently shushed her whimpers as he sunk her down onto his overly endowed length. Fitting himself in her always took a little longer due to his size.

"You're doing so well baby." He cooed in her ear as he waited for her to adjust to him. Mingi was definitely right in exclaiming how tight she was, he himself was gritting his teeth at how hard her walls were squeezing at his shaft.

Knowing she was overly sensitive, clit swollen and folds puffed up, Yunho decided to go for a more slow and sensual pace. His hands gently rolled her hips to move on top of him, soft and blissful sighs being breathed out of their mouths. He made sure not to overwhelm her, and he himself wanted to enjoy the moment for as long as possible. When he heard her agitated moan, he let her relax on top of him as his hips took over. He was careful not to snap his hips too aggressively, still being gentle and precise with each thrust he shot up at her. With one hand sliding in between her legs, his fingers brushed against her pinkied clit before carefully circling around it.

"You're so beautiful my dear. Absolutely perfect." He murmured against her neck whilst his lips pressed tiny kisses on her warm skin.

Y/N gasped when she felt his pace slightly speed up, causing her body to jolt forward, which was stopped from falling when Yunho's arms held her in a tight embrace to keep her close to him. She knew she was definitely waking up sore the next morning, her thighs were already burning from cumming so much and from being bounced on top of two monster cocks that belonged to her tall boyfriends. Her 4th orgasm of the night slowly and silently crept up on her, rendering her almost numb to everything except the dull sting of her juices pouring out once more onto Yunho's cock. Even after she felt him pull out and coat her backside with his hot seed, she was still in hazy state, worn out after all the attention the two men bestowed upon them. The last thing she saw before passing out on the bed was Yunho's voice purring in her ear:

"Remember Mingi and I love you just the way you are..."

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bts-trash-blog · 3 years

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Best Of Us

Chapter 8: Focus

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn't help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

An(IMPORTANT...kinda of lol): Hello my sweets! I just wanted to give you all a heads up that I will be closing the Tag list after I realize Chapter Ten, just for a bit it will open back up eventually its just getting be to much to keep up with at the momment! So defiently keep an eyes out in the next couple of weeks of the tag list closing and when it should open back up if that makes senses lol. Also I was woundering if you guys would like to talk about the story togthers after each chapter? Like a reading party where you guys send in your thoughts and I will respound to as many, if not all of the replys, asks and anons! Defeintly tell my your thoughts on that if you fine it intresting or not! I hope you like this chapter, it’s most defitnly on the long side compared to the perivous chapters, and they only seem to keep getting longer lol. Anyway have a great day, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

Chapter edited

PREV._.NEXT

God you were crazy,you had to be.

The way the air caught your breath as you wandered outside had you memorized, no matter what age you were the cold always fascinated you. It was memories of the snow days your father would pull you out of bed for, hands on your hips as he lifted you off the ground and caught snowflakes. Or the way you watched your mother fall to the ground to make snow angels how your father as you and your cousin had run around the snow, would catch your mother and spin her around. Their joint laughter had made you freeze eyes casting over seeing your mothers bright smile as your father peppers kisses across her cheeks, as you stood frozen your older cousin shoved a snowball in your face. The burn of your cold nose now having you reach up and rub, the overly large sweater that wraps warmth around you faintly smells of your mother. She had grown worried as days passed and you sat in your room, nesting, trying to get the paperwork done that the ‘sweet handsome Alpha’, Jin, had dropped off. You had yet to confined to your mother what was spiralling with your internship, your college professor none the wiser during your call on Wednesday. His voice filled with joy as he spoke of the email that Yoongi had sent him, encouraging your professor to give you the next couple of weeks off for class since he believes that this supposive internship was turning into a real opportunity for you. It drove you insane on how fast he was to jump, assume. Though you would do that same, you think.

The sound of someone talking on the phone had your mind racing back to the real world, eyes looking around, the tall glass building on the other side of the road. The way the sun reflected off of the glass shook you to the core, imagining Yoongi sitting at his desk, dark brown almost black hair falling into his eyes, the stupid look on Hoseok face when he constrates on the computer screen in front of him. The scent, the combined scent of the three of them, the same one you smelt the night that your world flipped, coursing through your head, the idea a lone had your stumbling over your own feet.Taking a deep breath, the sound of some teenagers laughing had you looking to the side, three girls, Beta, were walking next to one another, looks over worry and even on of disgust caught your eyes it had you cowering, rushing the the cafe door. As you entered, you saw cotton candy pink hair, the large round cheeks as Jimin called your name, it had you smiling as the boy left the counter moving to gester for you to sit making you straighten up as you do.

“You’re hair..is..uh pink.” he giggles as he sits in front of you, hearing the Beta from before chuckle as he shakes his head, his hair tossing side to side as he smiles brightly at you.

“Very, I’ve been wondering when I’d see you, thoses Alphas and their Omega come having been coming for the past three days, asking if you’ve shown up.” He wiggled his eyebrows as you bow your head, hair falling, covering your face as you take a deep breath and shrug. “Never thought they’d like another Omega besides Joon.” His words caught your attention as you look at him with a head tilt, “Namjoon is a friend of mine.”

“Oh cool, didn’t know you were close to any of them.” Jimin awkwardly nods as he huffs and takes a breath.

“So are you gonna stay?” His question made your heart stop, chest tighten, the air catching in your throat as you seem to choke on it. Coughing as he moves forward, hand resting on yours as he looks you in the eye. Safe. You are safe. “It..it’s okay if you don’t. Seriously, I..I don’t know how it feels for a trip to want to court you, let alone a thrio who all think you are already theirs, especially that possessive Namjoon.” His words go from serious tone to a teasing, his smile falling back on his face as his thumb rubs up and down your hand as you look at him. “Namjoon is probably more possessive then any Alpha I’ve met, and both of my parents are Alphas and so are my brothers, and my little sister who just presented is an Alpha. None of them are as possessive as our tall sweet Namjoon.” His words were rambled, eyes blinking, slowly looking away from your face, your own eyes widening.

“The only Omega in a whole litter?” You wonder aloud, making him nod slowly as his hand moves away from you, making your skin freeze as you take a deep breath. “Sorry that was blunt.”

“It’s fine, i’m used to it, being the only Omega out of five is odd, especially when the other four are Alphas.” His words had your nodding slowly as he cleared his throat and smiled back at you. “Being the only Omega was pretty handy though, got whatever the fuck I wanted. But back to what I was saying, the fact that Namjoon is willing to share his boys, and love you is pretty amazing to me if I’m being honest. So whatever you choose I’m gonna say it, he’s gonna be protective of you either way.” You nod at his words, his body moving up and out of the chair as he smiles at you and looks to his watch. “Well they should be showing up in twenty mintiues, think you’re gonna stay today?”

“I’m not sure yet.”He nods as he smiles as he places a hand on your shoulder, his forehead nuding your temple making your body relax as you take a deep breath and sigh. Hand moving to grab our phone, a text from Bambam had you swiping it open.His text had your heart pounding, cheeks growing red as your body grew hot it made you slowly blink as you took a deep breath in.

BamBam: So I am now a marked Omega, bounded.

Y/n: OMG I’m so happy for you Bammie, definitely need to see it next time we meet up.

BamBam: We’ll no shit, who else am I gonna show it too? My mother?

Y/n: I mean maybe?

BamBam: My mother will cry and tell me to stop growing up, then ask me about pups in the next sentence.

You let out a snort at his text, shaking your head as you place your phone back into your pocket, the feeling of eyes on you had the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your body tense as you move to keep your eyes down, moving your hands to grab a sugar packet as Jimin walks back up to you, a caramel macchiato in hand as you smile at him.”On the house.” Nodding you move to take a sip of it, meeting his eyes as he gives you his large smile. The ring of the door opening had Jimin moving back behind the counter, the smell of Alpha musk head cowering as you constarat on your drink, hoping that the Alpha wouldn't notice you, or would just ignore you. Yet you didn’t seem that lucky as you felt eyes on you, the sound of the deep voice ordering a coffee to stay has you shuffling your phone out of your pocket hoping that if you were on your phone he’d leave you alone. That he’d ignore you in some way. But luck never seems to be on your side.

Looking up when you hear the slide of a chair in front of you, you see brown eyes with black hair falling in his eyes as he gives you a smile as you look back down your phone. Body slightly cluring in one itself as you took another sip of your coffee. Healing the Alpha now sitting in front of your clear his throat, a growl rumbling with it had your body tensing, hand squeezing the cup making some of the coffee drip out of the straw as you look up at him. His smirk had only grown at your reaction, his body leaning forward as you take a deep breath in and lean back. A napkin being grabbed as you try to whip away at the croffe from the table. His eyes follow your hand as you take a deep breath in as he lets out a grunt as he rolls his lip between his teeth as he slaps his hand on the table.

“So pretty Omega, what are you doing here all alone?” His voice was a force smooth, his eyes gleaming at you as he leaned further, closer to you. Taking in a breath, your scent as his lips part and he smirks brightly at you. “I asked you a question.” He growled, making you jump your eyes closing as you take a deep breath.

“I’m waiting for someone.” Your words were sharp, quiet to the point as you started to take deep breaths again and again. Trying to compose yourself, to calm yourself down.

“Well how about I keep you some company till they show up...or you could just leave with me.” He pauses as he takes another deep breath in, your place you cup down letting out breaths again and again. Go away, leave me alone. You want to say, to scream it out like you had like last time. But the three men had made you cower, made you want to shy away from people around you. Your courage closed off. “Smell delicious little girl.” His words had your chest tightening as you stood up, leaving your cup behind as you rushed to the door, wanting, needing to run across the street, wanting to hide behind Hoseok as Yoongi chewed this Alpha a new one. You want them. “Hey get back here, I’m not done talking to you.” The Alpha tone had both you and Jimin whinine, your body freezing before the glass door. Three figures moving across the street had you whining as you heard the Beta manger growl, “Turn around.” You felt your knees shake, wanting to fight his command you whimper as you almost fall. “Now come here, and shut it beta I’m with my Omega.” his words felt wrong, gave you a nasty taste in your mouth as you shake your head at the Beta who let out a whine at the Alphas tone. Jimin cowering behind him as you felt your feet stumble forward, knees buckling as he growls when you weren’t moving quick enough for his liking. “I don’t have all day, now come.” You omega rushed forward wanting to stay safe to listen to the campand as you felt your neck stretch out as he chuckles and patts your cheek “That's a good girl.” His words were full of nothing but humiliation as you let out a whine, bowling lower as the door opens, the sound of a gaspe as the smell of sweet vanilla with firewood mixing with peaches had your heart slow as you hear a deep growl, mixing with another and whine hidden between the two.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hoseok. Your eyes close as you hear the Alpha in front of your growl as he scoffs at the trio.

“None of your business is just punishing a disrespectful Omega is all.” His words held a smirk, the tone and the words had you letting out a whimper, the sound had a hand resting on your shoulder, physical contact. Hoseok touch was familiar being the only Alpha out of two that has truly touched you in any way. And yet it makes you flinch slightly as your eyes peek up at him, his warm brown eyes looking down at you nodding behind him making you stand rushing backwards till hands were around your waist. Twirling your around, back facing away from the two as you hear growling making your grip the top beneath the palm of yours hands as you take a deep breath in.

“That Omega is ours, not yours.” Hoseok's words in any other time would’ve made your huff and roll your eyes, dismiss the man and walk away but Yoongi scent of freshly burning firewood with pine had your nuzzling closer. As close as you could get with clothes on.

“Focus on me.” His voice was soft, breathy against your ear, Yoongi's hand falling to your lower back, another slightly larger than Yoongi's hand pressed against the back of your head making you look up and peak seeing Namjoons cold eyes staring past your head. His fingers lace your hair between them as he moves closer, pressing himself flesh against Yoongi's back making the Alpha purr, his cheek rubbing against your neck as you take another deep breath. Trying to shake the Alpha command away from your mind, wanting to breathe, needing to focus. You hear the Alpha chuckle, as Hoseok growls once again.

“Well shit I’m sorry, she just doesn't have a mark let alone a scent mark. She a good fuck? I haven't tried an Omega yet...would you mind sharing for a fresh Alpha?” His words had the chest you were pressed against rumble with a growl, suddenly the sound of skin hitting skin with a grunt and a growl had you jumping as Yoongi twirl you around, your back against Namjoons chest. The omegas hand sliding across your waist holding you to him as Yoongi pulls back making you shake your head and whine as he pulls back his cold brown eyes staring at you as he cups your cheek and presses his forehead against your. “What the fuck? You fuck-” His words were cut off with another sound as a chair scraps against the floor, you hear Jimin whine making your eyes snap over tot he pink haird Omega for a split second, clinging to the back of the Beta who had his eyes wide watching the scen unfold, making you look back to Yoongi then Behind his head. Seeing the Alpha on the ground eyes closed as Hoseok shook his head out, shoulders moving with every single breath he took. Hands on your cheeks had your eyes snapping back to your focus. Yoongi.

“Hey, hey Y/n focus on me.” Your eyes watch his, the way his eyes never move away from your face, how his eyebrows furrowed together, and the way the tips of his ears were a bright red. His hair was slicked back slightly, forehead on show the collar of his shirt was messed up slightly from the coat he probably had thrown on while the three left the office. His tie was a maroon color, resting against an off white top from the feel of it was silk that was tucked into his pants. Your eyes catching the dull looking shoes from the day you had split coffee on, it head your cheek going red as his thumb rubs against your cheekbone having your eyes snap back up to his. “Breath with me, focus on me.” You nod slowly, breathing slowly down as you feel Namjoons nose running up and down your neck, scenting you slightly as his nose rubs over your scent gland each time. It had your body vibrate as Yoongi rubs slightly under your eye as he smiled softly at you as you tried to smile back in the moment you finally realized that tears that were falling down as you took a shaky breath in.

“Is she okay?” You hear hoseok ask making you look to see his warm eyes looking at you as you feel yoongi leave you completely making you whine as Namjoon tightens his grip around you calming you down as Yoongi takes Hoseok's hand. His thumb rubbing over his knuckles as Hoseok's eyes leave yours back to Yoongis as you watch the taller Alpha bump his forehead against Yoongis making him look up and huff.

“Just had to punch him.” Yoongi says softly, his head shaking as Hoseok chuckled softly as he looked at you as Yoongi rolled his eyes once again,hearing the groaning boy behind them, Hoseok turned and growled making the Alpha flinch as he whips his lip and huffs.

“Asshole, I hate new Alphas.” Hoseok's words had Yoongi nodding in agreement when pink hair caught your eyes as Jimin moved closer rmaking you pull from Namjoon as Jimin came closer. Jimins small frame pressing itself into you as you take a deep breath as you see the Beta talking on the phone.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I couldn't do anything once that ton-” You cut Jimin off with a shake of your head as you grip his arm and give him a half smile.

“I get it.” You whisper as Jimin slowly nods, sighing as he looks behind you, namjoons eyes already on the pair of you as Hoseok and Yoogi get pulled to the counter taking the phone from the Beta. “Who..what is the betas name?”

“Oh thats Taehyung, he he was protecting me I’m sorry he just didn-”

“Stop apologizing, seriously I knew someone was gonna stop it whether it be him or someone from the outside. It's just a part of being an Omega.” Jimin slowly nodded again as the two of you pulled completely away from each other. “I’m just sorry for you having to deal with my situ-”

“Don’t you start apologizing, if I can’t neither can you.” Jimins words were light hearted, a smile on his face as you shook your head and gave him the softest smile, a forced one almost. “Namjoon looks worried.” Jimins words were now slightly teasing, trying to pull you from the situation, and in the end it worked.

“He can hear us.” Your words made me smile brightly as you shook your head and took a deep breath in as you turned around, eyes already on you as you moved slowly towards them. Namjoon meets you halfway, though you step back when he reaches to touch you making his eyes widen as he steps back. “Uh this definitely not how I thought this afternoon was going to go.” Your words were mumbled, soft as you chuckled awkwardly running your hand through your hair as you let out a huff. “I just..I..sorry about it.”

“No need to apologize Y/n, we’re just glad you’re okay.” Hoseok mumbled his own hand running through his hair, the red on his knuckles catching your eyes as you reached out slowly making his jaw slightly drop. You fingertips grazing the palm of his hand at you step forward. Your other hand moving to run over the knuckles, each red mark being gently rubbed by the pad of your pointer finger it had Hoseok's whole body relax as he looked at your movements. “You didn’t have to punch the guy.”

“No one disrpects Omegas, let alone..let alone an Omega that is mine..shit sorry.” He mumbled quickly when the last part of his sentence slipped out past his lips it had your lip slightly curling when the dig of the door opening had you jumping back. A police officer was there, Yoongi quickly moving to speak with them as the Alpha who was now sitting up slowly was suddenly cuffed. Your breathing stayed steady as another officer came up and gave you soft smiles, her beta scent was soothing, light and it did wrap around you.

“Are you okay telling us what happened?” Her voice was soft, your arm wrapping around yourself as your other rested on your cheek, eyes looking down to the ground as you took a deep breath in. “You don’t have to today, but if you want to press charges we do need you to give a statement within 48 hours.”

“I don’t want to press charges..he’s a freshly presented Alpha.” You were quick to respond as she nodded slowly, her hand reaching slowly hovering above your shoulder as she smiled at you.

“Of course, we’ll book him then for the night. Okay?” You nod as you see Hoseok pressing a hand to the back of Namjoons neck as the Beta officer walked away following after her partner as you let out a breath and looked over at the three men who were already looking at you.

Focus Y/n. Focus on what needs to be done.

“Okay so I thought about it..about us?” You question yourself out loud, looking down your fingers twirling the ends of your sweater sleeve. You hair falling in your eyes making your huff as you blow hair making the strains fly up and fall back down just a quickly making your eye roll as you stop fiddling with our sleeves, pushing your hair over your ear as you make eye contact with Hoseok, his eyes already on you as he slowly nodded. “I think..I think we should just leave it be..let whatever happens or doesn’t happen..well uh just happen.” Your words had Namjoon whining as Yoongi let out a tut at him as you gave the three a small smile. “It’s not a no, but it’s not a yes.”

“It's just an open for a maybe.” Yoongi mumbles, making you nod your head as you take a deep breath as you look at them.

“I’m going to be honest with you guys I wasn’t planning to agree to anything and just ask for you guy to drop this whole mate things...but I just have this need to try...which is honestly weird.” You pause as you take a deep breath eyes casting anywhere but the three of them, you felt heat again your arm making you look to see Namjoon already looking down at you through a small frown was on his face as you take a deep breath. “It's not entirely your fault though, I have a lot of trust issues and abatement issues that is gonna make this hard..I don't’ know why I'm letting you know instead of you guys just figuring out maybe it's because of what happened and I feel..I feel safe in this moment with you or its just the high of breaking and Alpha command or what.” You ramble looking down at your feet, the black worn out vans on your feet bending as you move. “I guess..I guess maybe today I was able to see you guys as normal I guess and opened up for a chance? So just don’t..don’t hurt me...cause it’s the only one you get.”

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

#tf #draco malfoy #dracotok #tom felton #tom felton x y/n #tom felton imagine #british toms #felton #tom felton fluff #tom felton angst #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #tom x reader #tom felton x reader #dad tom

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bratdjarin · 3 years

Text

For if I am not yours, what am I?

Summary: Family has always been important to The Mandalorian, he needed to have something to cling to and call his own after everything he once possessed had been taken away. Watching him grow increasingly tender with his little stolen green asset had only left you with thoughts on what it would be like if you were to give him a child of his own, little did you know how unlikely that was to ever happen.

Warnings: Discussion of infertility and sex.

A/N: After reading so much smut involving Mando with a breeding kink, the only reasonable place my brain could go afterwards was straight to wondering what would happen if you were, in fact, unable to bare his child like you both wished? If you’re brave enough, I highly suggest going and listening to Mitski’s song “Wife” as that is where I got the inspiration for this fic.

Din stood outside the lavatory with his hands balled up into tight fists, a tenseness had settled in his shoulders from the second he had watched you enter and they had shown no sign of easing since. Across from him, Grogu sat within his makeshift bed, chubby green hands entertaining themselves with a small bundle of charms you had picked up at a market on the last planet you’d stopped off at.

It hadn’t been long at all since he had returned with something small and green bundled up in his arms and yet Din couldn’t imagine the ship without the sound of babbling and cooing. It would be as hard to imagine it without you, the smallest things seemed so necessary, like you leaving the shower setting on hot when he preferred them as cold as possible, or finding crumbs in bed from late night snacks when you thought he was asleep. They had become so ingrained with his image of the Razor Crest that if you were to leave it would be like tearing out circuits or dismantling the wings.

He knew it had been only mere minutes since you had entered the lavatory with the test in hand but each second felt like an eternity, it felt like a knife to the gut to simply know there was something you knew that he didn’t. It sounded possessive but when he had showed you everything there was to him, every part he’d sworn to keep secret or at least die trying, he couldn’t stomach the thought of there being something you didn’t share together.

Maybe it was possessive, would that be so wrong?

Grogu cooed absentmindedly and Din tilted his helmet towards him, watching as the kid brought one of the charms up to his mouth to chew on. The noise would have bothered him once upon a time, the ship had never been silent per say but it was quiet enough to have any new sound feel intrusive.

When he’d first offered you a ride after being caught in the crossfire of a bounty collection gone wrong, he was almost certain he would kick you off in a matter of hours as a result of the increase of noise you brought along. Eventually though, after being thrown off course and into a detour of massive proportion, he got used to the noise of having you around, even grew to miss it when he did finally get you to where you were initially going. Sure, the separation only lasted a few hours before he was storming off to insist you come back, offering good pay to look after the ship while he went out on his collections but even with that clunky helmet covering what you felt in your gut to be a pretty face, you knew his true intentions.

That was many cycles ago, so much had happened since then that there simply wasn’t time to stand and ponder over it all. However, Din always allowed for a moment in every day to think back to the time he first had you in his bed, more specifically the morning after when he’d awoken to the sight of you curled up beside him, hand warm on his belly and your head tucked neatly beneath the sharp edge of his helmet. Months of tension had finally been cut and instead of the shame and regret which he thought for certain you’d feel after bedding a man you knew so little about, he found you by his side looking more peaceful than ever witnessed before.

The lock on the lavatory door turned and Din’s head whipped around to face it. He didn’t know what to expect upon your exit, he had been hoping for at least a smile, but he recognized melancholy faster than anything else. A sickness twisted in his stomach and if it were not for the heavy helmet keeping him covered, you would have witnessed how his eyes softened with woe.

He watched as you extended the pregnancy test out which he took slowly, the tips of his orange gloves brushing against your skin and he noted the slight tremble in your hand. Maybe this was all a mistake, it wasn’t right that you once again be placed into a position of failure because of something he craved so deeply.

It was not the first time that you had found yourselves together in this predicament. It had been your idea originally, a wish you’d kept a secret from the moment Din softened himself around you. It sometimes still amazed you how that Beskar hid a man capable of such warm laughter and gentle touches. Falling for him wasn’t an immediate thing, truthfully you found the man a pretentious bother to begin with but somewhere along the way, maybe when you first heard him speak to the kid with such tenderness, you found an affection for him that hadn’t faltered since.

You could recall with complete ease the first night he fucked you. He wasn’t gentle per say but there had been a hesitation in his hands, as though he had never had the chance to touch someone without the intent to harm. The weight of his body on top of you was welcomed with no qualms, there was little he could do which would have made you want him to leave, especially when slid that beautiful cock inside of you as though he had been made to fit there.

With your naked skin pressed to the cold metal of his amour and his spunk warm between your legs, never had you felt so content before, so incredibly safe. As you had drifted off to sleep that night, your mind wandered to how Din’s hand had settled down on your stomach as he fucked you, those thick fingers kneading at your soft belly in admiration and you wondered how tenderly he’d touch you there if it there was his child there inside.

Din ran his thumb over the test, rubbing across the negative sign flashing with an obnoxious red light. Despite having shared his face with you before, while on the ship he still wore his helmet the majority of the time, you knew it to be a thing of comfort for him and while perfectly content to see him whenever he gave you the chance, all you wanted right then was to know how he was feeling. His gaze remained pointed down at the test when you spoke up, your voice raspy yet quiet in fear of breaking.

“We can try again.” Since the third time hadn’t been any luckier than before, you concluded that some of that luck must be carried onto the next attempts. That had to be the case, the alternative would be to admit that it was unlikely that you were to ever get a positive and that was a defeat you could not handle.

Silence, that was all Din gave you in return. He continued to stare down at the test, caressing it with a gentle touch which couldn’t have been any further than what you wanted to do to it; throw it out into the dark realms of space, stomp on it till the floor was littered with crushed plastic and a smashed light, flush it down the toilet and pretend like none of it ever happened? All were good options and way better than Din’s decision to stroke the thing like it was something precious.

Grogu babbled something behind you and the sound made your eyes begin to water. It was your fault, you had let yourself think about having a little one around alongside him, convinced yourself that this would be the time you’d witness your kids taking naps together and waddling after their father, pulling at his cape when they wanted attention. You’d promised together that the time you got pregnant would be the time Din found you somewhere to settle down together, a planet warm and green, with pretty scenery and lots of space for the children to play.

That was what you needed, somewhere far away, somewhere Din could take off his helmet in the privacy of his home and not fear there was someone lurking outside waiting to strike.

“I don’t think it’s meant to be.” Din said after a long moment of consideration. His voice was soft, more so than you think you’d ever heard it before. For a second you thought he was going to hand the test back over to you but then he thought better of it, instead slipping it into one of the many pockets on his amour.

It was not a game of fault or blame but Din couldn’t help but think if this was in fact a problem of his own creating, maybe he was the one who was unable to provide you with a child. Although he stood tall, thinking he had been the cause of more than even a second of pain for you, let alone months of hope being crushed, it made his knees feel weak. He watched with a tremble in his lip as the tears that had threatened to spill from your eyes finally flooded over, clinging to your lashes as you tried to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing you could think to say. After everything he had been through, all you had wanted was to give Din something good. You knew if you were to tell him that he’d brush it aside, tell you that he had everything he wanted right in front of him but you’d seen it before, you’d learned to follow his gaze as you walked past families filled with smiles and laughter.

It only took you to blink once before you found yourself being wrapped up tight in Din’s arms, pressed up tight against his Beskar. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, not with your cheek squished up against his chest and your arms flush to your side with the suddenness of it all but it was him, being in the same room was comfort enough so a hug was Maker-sent.

“It’s not your fault.” Din’s voice, despite being warped slightly through the modulator of his helmet, was a comfort; it was slightly croaky, however, as though he too was on the verge of crying. Those big hands slid across your back comfortingly, tucking his fingers around your sides and squeezing you tight whenever he felt you let out a shuddered breath. “You did everything right; this isn’t your fault.”

“I wanted to give you a son.” The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them. Most days, it was all you could think about. A little boy, big brown eyes and dark hair, maybe even a dimple like his father had. You’d lay in bed waiting for Din to return home from a collection and pass the time thinking about the two of them playing together, Din’s patient and calm demeanor contrasted by the fiery giggles of your child, of course not helped with Grogu’s mischievous nature.

There was no reply after that, not for a long while and for a moment, you swore you could hear sniffling from above you. Before you could say anything more, Din’s hands slowly retreated from your back and went up towards his helmet. Despite hearing the noise many times before, the clicking of his helmet being released made your stomach clench and you clung tighter to him, to be one of the few to have seen his face was still a thrill you could not get over.

You knew if you wanted, you could look up and see Din’s face, he’d made that perfectly clear by now but not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort, you instead decided to keep your eyes closed. His helmet fell to the floor with a loud clatter that made both you and Grogu jump in surprise. Then, ever so softly, you felt his lips press to the top of your head. It was gentle, might not have even been processed if you weren’t so on edge from the sudden noise.

For all you knew, you stood there together for days straight, Din holding you as you rode the waves of tears that came and went. His hands had returned to the soft expanse of your back, even sliding up your shirt at one point so you could be reminded of his warmth― Din was still there, despite everything, he was still there.

“We can’t do this again.” Din said after a long silence. It was a surprisingly easy decision to come to, he would always prefer you safe and content, having you alone was more than enough and certainly more than he thought he ever deserved. There was no denying that letting go of the promise of watching you swell with something so beautiful would be hard, he too had let himself ponder on all the warmth and happiness to come but it was for the best. Much like how he didn’t want to see you in pain again, Din could not handle another defeat so heavy.

You knew he was right, there were few times he wasn’t, but it didn’t make it any less painful to hear. Rather than reply, you simply held him even tighter, unable to let another thing go. Perhaps you could still go to that planet, find that pretty home in the solitude and allow that love to go fully to each other. You still needed to look after Grogu anyways, poor little green thing was still a child in his own right and needed the both of you around.

It was possible that this wasn’t the loss of something but the start of something new, something better. It didn’t feel like it right then but maybe one day it would. Until then, you knew you had Din and Grogu to make things feel complete.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x female reader

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fanfictionfansmiction · 3 years

Text

Look At Me

This is a Sirius x Reader piece I wrote. The summary is you’re in love with him (obvs) and you’re out drinking together. You’ll have to read it if you want to know more because I don’t know how to do summaries! Word count: 1846

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Sometimes when I look at Sirius, I try to read his mind. Tonight, in the local muggle pub I sip my rum and coke staring as inconspicuously as I can at him. I think I’ll finally do it. The rest of the gang are distracted in their own little worlds. Perfect for me, I think I’ve finally cracked it. He stands on the outside of a conversation, eyes glistening. I sip my drink, look up and see him unexpectedly looking back. I am afraid if I blink, I might miss it. The look of yearning on his face. It brings out this urge in me to hold him. To wrap him up in my arms and never let him go. But I do not blink, and I look a little closer, my mind begins to wander is it me he is yearning for. I know that I want him in every meaning of the word. Does he feel the same for me? I look away from him and I notice a girl our age behind me with raven hair and crimson lipstick that elicits a poisonous envy within me. This goddess come to life has poise and mystery, she is elegant and distant. All in the unknown, I tell myself. That is why I hate horror films. All the suspense and all that you do not see is what makes itself horror. Right now, that is how I see her, as a beautiful horror. Something I cannot take my eyes off. She is everything I wish I were and part of me knows I too would jump, eyes closed, at the opportunity to be with her just once. Is that what he longs for? Mystery and darkness. All the things you could imagine and things you would not dare wish for.

I look back at him. All of him. His icy eyes that I always saw more as the sky on a sunny day but now I see them how she would. He too is mysterious. Leather clad and brooding. Tattoos disappearing under sleeves you cannot help but want to trace. His inky hair that falls guiltily over his face like he is already broken your heart. I know he will. I know I will let him. Is it me your looking for? I want to ask. Am I all mystery and elegance? No, I do not think I am. I am the familiar option. I am warm sand after an icy cold swim. I have my own good qualities. I know this but I do not know if this will be enough. This time I look at James, Remus and Peter. They are not looking at me. James holding his heavy head up sloppily with his toned arm gazes all wide eyed and wishful at Lily. Who laughs with a stranger at the bar. Brushing her auburn locks over her shoulder. James’ sighs so cartoon like I must stop myself from laughing. Then I move to Remus who picks at the sleeve of his knitted jumper while talking animatedly to a small chubby girl about some muggle literature. She seems to be having fun as she softly hits his arm. Peter is chatting quietly to two tall men who have such dark circles under their eyes I feel the need to tell them to rest. I take a longer look at Peter who is chewing at his lip. He is a little drunker than the rest and I see his face go red. He tells a joke, and the tall men laugh, it softens their faces, and they do not seem as tired. My eyes make their way back to Sirius who seems to be talking to me. His pale cheeks reddening as he notices I have not been paying attention. “What?” I mouth to him taking the last mouthful of my drink. “I said are you hungry?” He chuckles pushing himself round the table, so he is standing beside me. I forget how familiar he is to me. He is so inviting I feel something tug inside me. As if something is saying you love him for Christ sake just tell him! But the timing is not right! I snipe back to myself. It never will be. That is my plan. To never tell him because how could I ruin something so precious to me? I hold him so closely in my heart I could not live with myself if I ruined this. “Hello oh.” He says with that grin growing. He shakes my shoulders as if to wake me up. “Um, isn’t a little early for that?” I say. “I know you Love, you’re always hungry at pre drinks and I cannot listen to you talk about pizza while dancing to the muggle music one more time! So, I figure I feed you now and then if you’re still hungry later we can share a kebab or something?” He says absentmindedly twirling a stray piece of my hair. The heat rises from my neck threatening to give me away. I clear my throat. “Are you sure? I know how important it is to solidify the lady friend for the evening early on so you get the prettiest one and you can tell in here because it’s well lit.” I say a little sourer than intended. “Who says that’s not what I’m doing?” He retorts shifting his weight. “Are you trying to bed me by offering me takeaway?” I ask amused. “I wouldn’t have worded it like that because now you sound like a prostitute who gets paid in food.” “You never know, it sounds like a solid business plan to me.” I laugh. Then Sirius laughs with me. We leave the pub arms intertwined wandering toward the pizza place down the road. It’s gotten colder since we arrived in the crowded pub and now, I am wondering why I didn’t bring a coat. I look up at Sirius with a wide grin because this is my favourite part of the night and now, I have been promised it twice. Not the food, but this little walk to the takeaway. Where we giggle and bump into each other. It feels so intimate despite the crowds of drunks. “What are we getting Love?” He asks stuffing his hands into his pocket and bringing out a twenty-pound note. “I was thinking something spicy but put your money away I’ve got this one.” I insist attempting to push myself into the small takeaway. But he stops me and before I know it, he is in there and he is ordering then he pays and tips the guys generously. He pops outside. Leaning against the window he smugly grins at me as though he has bested me. Which is ridiculous but I cannot stop myself from going into the takeaway and ordering something myself and matching his tip. He clearly protests shaking his head with feigned annoyance. He turns his head away, but I see him laughing. “Let’s go.” He laughs taking our orders from the ledge and wandering back to the pub. “Did you see who Remi was talking to?” I say chewing on the crust of the pizza. “Yeah, I think they work together at the book shop. He fancies her. Obviously.” “She definitely likes him.” “How can you tell?” He asks with genuine curiosity as he takes a large bite of my cheesy chips. “It’s all in the eyes Sirius. Her entire face softened when she looked at him. Like he was a puppy she had seen after the worst day of her life.” I ask batting his hand away so I too can fill my mouth with cheesy chips. “So, what do you see in my eyes when I look at you?” He asks and I’m not sure if he’s teasing me. I know that I do not want to play this game. It will end up with me in tears and him leaving with someone else. Sensing the shift in my attitude he stops and turns to me. He takes the food boxes and leans them on a nearby bench before turning his body to me and looking at me. Really looking at me. “I’m not messing around Love. What do you see when I look at you?” He says softly as though he is afraid, afraid that I will break. For a moment we stand there in the golden light from the lamppost. Just the two of us there like a painting. A moment in time where the silence is deafening. I look at him like I did in the pub and I am confused. He has got that same look on his face. Soft and forgiving. His big grey eyes warm and loving. I suddenly feel so stupid. So blind and ridiculous. “I see love. I see warmth and forgiveness. Something else that I can’t quite place.” I whisper. It feels more like a prayer. Wishing on a shooting star or a coin thrown into a fountain. Something I have thrown away without thought. Without thinking what it really means if he feels the same. What happens after the happy ending? Where we end up. How it really feels to be loved. If I could throw myself away with a coin. I look up and I see he is still looking at me. Suddenly I feel very shy. I feel naked and wounded. I did not just tell him what I saw I told him what I wanted to see in him. Revealing much more of myself than intended. So, I ask him “What do you see?” in a small breathless voice. He drags a hand through his hair and rests his chin on his fist. He focuses and in such a comical manner I cannot help but smile because suddenly this all feels so silly. So childish. I keep looking at him and see a small scar above his brow. Something he probably got from childhood and I think about everything I do about him. If it’s enough. I think about how he used to help the younger students who were being bullied. How he’d bring Remus chocolate when he was down. Or how he always gives money to the homeless or the charity people on the street. He was hopeless at cooking but would always make sure the boys had a home cooked meal to come back to when they lived in that tiny flat together. Under all the flirting and joking Sirius is the kindest most giving person I have ever known. Suddenly I feel like I could cry because has anyone ever shown him the same kindest. Has anyone ever looked after him? “Why do you look so sad?” He asks with a strange look on his face. “Because I just realised that I want to look after you Sirius. If you’ll let me.” I say taking his large hand in mine. I see his face change. As though that was the last thing, he thought I’d say. “Alright Love,” He says, “I think I’d like that.”

#sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #sirius imagine #marauders era x reader #marauders era #I cannot stop reading harry potter reader inserts #Be kind this is my first fic #Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #marauders era imagine #sirius black imagine

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ichorizaki · 3 years

Text

03. the family forest

warnings infidelity

word count 4.6k

Your body felt hot despite the air conditioner being on full blast. You were rushing around, still dressed in your pyjamas as your husband barked orders at you like you were a lapdog while you struggled to help Tarō put on something that did not have Anpanman on it. It was the day of the wedding between Masayūki Hideo and Meredith Bonavich, and you would have been absolutely damned if you had to travel from Miyagi to Tokyo. Your family was flown out a couple of days ago to help prepare for the wedding at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, which also happened to be where you were staying for the next two days.

“Kāsan! Okāsan! Do I look handsome?” Tarō took your attention as he slid across the floor in his Anpanman socks. A smile graced your face. You knelt down to meet his height, throwing your body towel over your shoulder to ruffle his already messy hair.

“Of course you do.” Before he could respond, your husband came yelling at you.

“Why aren’t you getting ready yet?! It’s almost time and we’ll be late!” Tarō’s proud grin immediately withered into a concerned frown. Your hand reached up to cup his chubby cheek and gave him a forehead kiss before rising to your feet with a quick glance to the clock. You still had two hours till the ceremony started and all you needed was 45 minutes.

Simply ignoring your husband, you headed to the shared bathroom to finally shower and get ready. While it took you a little longer because Tadāo misplaced the hairdryer and blamed you for being inattentive, all of you managed to head down to the reception area with an hour to spare. It was no surprise for you to see your in-laws already grazing the luxurious field like diamond-studded, jewelry-dripping gazelles.

Tarō immediately spotted his cousins and asked for your permission to play with them. Who were you to say no? He happily ran over with a spring in his step, hugging and greeting his cousins with a big smile on his face. Turning to your side, you were met with your sister-in-law instead of your husband.

“Y/N, how are you?” She smiled gently. She was the only one you could ever really talk to besides the other female cousins and the one reasonable aunt in the family tree. You drank in her appearance and your heart swelled with pride at how beautiful she is. The both of you were the same age, give or take a couple months, and were close enough to have a strong friendship even if it stemmed for mutual dislike of your husband’s infidel ways.

“You’re so stunning, Yumeko.” Her already pink cheeks bloomed a bright red, matching the colour of her coral lipstick. Yumeko laughed, shaking her head while waving her hand dismissively. Even her laughter was so lovely.

“Y/N you flatter me too much,” she pouted. “How are you? How’s Tarō?” The both of you began to walk towards the walls so you wouldn’t block anybody’s way. It was out of habit from the countless family functions. While your conversations were mainly small talk until someone else swayed or called for your attention, you still treasured them. The normalcy would only last for so long until someone got too drunk or too riled up or worse—both.

So you talked to her about your baking side business and how it was doing well enough to supply you with some extra allowance. You praised your son, telling Yumeko how he was being a great student and friend in class and how excited he was to be in elementary school. The both of you had a clear view of Tarō and his cousins playing with one another, running around and snaking between the legs of tall pant-clad folks like the ballroom was their playground. You knew how devious he can be and his natural charm of being able to persuade a crowd (you’ve seen it happen with your own two eyes at his daycare).

Yumeko on the other hand, shared stories of her own dating endeavours. She had tried using Japan Cupid, Tinder, OK Cupid, and even Dine, but the men that she went on dates with never seemed to spark something after the date. Her twin occasionally hung around her during dates in her free time, and when she couldn't, her friends did it. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a dating app. It was nearly a decade ago; you were sure.

Fifteen minutes before the wedding started, guests from the bride’s side of the family began to turn up. For most of them, they were surprised to see all of the folks already present. You were ready to spectate some fight or even overhear some gossip but you were more than pleasantly surprised to see the two sides mingling well. At least on the surface, it seemed that way. You’ve only been to one wedding on your in-law’s side and it was rather tame, save for the backhanded compliments and viciousness under a façade.

You found your seat at a table designated for your husband and son, along with Yumeko, her sister Yasuko, and your parents-in-law as soon as the wedding was about to be announced. The whole time, you stuck to the twins. After the main course was over (you didn’t really like it—it was too expensive to your liking) and folks began to mingle, dance, and play, you insisted on remaining at the table until Tadāo’s father made an off-handed comment that made your blood boil. Yasuko’s hand was on your back, gently rubbing her hand up and down as an attempt to calm you.

Not even your mother-in-law made an attempt to apologise on behalf of her husband when they both rose to leave the table and join others of their age. You shook your head, thankful for the colourful lights that hid how red your jade-adorned neck was and the translator’s voice booming through the speakers that drowned out your sinful curses.

“Let’s go to the open bar,” Yumeko hurriedly suggested, her purse already clutched in her hand.

“The wedding speeches are going to be over soon anyway.” Yasuko agreed. Her cold hand moved to give your forearm a light squeeze. While Yumeko had an apologetic smile, Yasuko donned an encouraging smile. “Tarō will be fine but I’m sure we have a clear view of the kids’ playing ring.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you nod. The three of you left the table upon gathering your belongings and headed to the open bar across the ballroom. You noticed that Kenji was talking to someone at the bar with a shot of whiskey on the rocks in the hand that leaned against the bar countertop. You didn’t know if he had noticed you or not, but you didn’t care because you were already asking for a berry rose mojito.

You couldn’t find your husband ever since he excused himself after he had finished his lunch meal. Your best bet? He would turn up just in time for dinner or if he needed something from you. The thought settled itself into a hot seed in the back of your mouth. Yumeko and Yasuko were flanked by your sides, their own choice of alcohol in their free hand. While they sipped away at their drinks, you tipped your head back and downed the mojito in three large gulps before returning it to the bartender. The seed was washed down by the chilling, refreshing drink, but you definitely needed more than just a cocktail.

When she tended to you, her eyebrows were raised in surprise at how quickly you finished it but simply left it alone at that. The twins spoke nothing of it either, just being cautious as you eyed the waiters with trays of filled champagne flutes and bite-sized snacks.

“What’s the champagne?” You asked out loud, trying to fight the overbearing volume of the foreign language bleeding through the speakers around the ballroom.

“Dom Perignon Rose, 1998. A gift from the Bonavichs for hosting the wedding, we were told.” Yumeko informed you, sipping on her drink. Your response was just a hum of acknowledgement. You recognised that brand, and it was expensive. Noticing Tarō wave at you from the ball pit with a bright and eager smile, you raised your hand to give him a wave in return.

“You two go ahead and enjoy, okay?” You patted Yasuko’s shoulder. The twins smiled brightly, though reluctant to let you go but acquiesced regardless. With your head held high and just the faintest buzz of mojito in your veins, you headed over to the ball pit where your son and his cousins were happily screaming and playing with one another. Something that you noticed while approaching the play area was that even the kids from the bride’s side were playing along. The language barrier you were worried about, but they looked just fine. Entering the area, the kids who noticed your presence immediately came swarming to you, calling for your attention with none other than your son leading the squadron.

“Y/N-basan!” With effortless grace you squatted to meet their height, calves burning just the slightest from all of your weight on your stiletto-adorned feet. Your nieces and nephews alike fawned over the play area, saying that it was fun because the last time that they saw one another was their grandfather’s 76th birthday party a few months back.

“I’m glad to hear you cheeky monkeys are having fun.” Your hand reaches out to ruffle your son’s hair. “Was my Tarō being naughty?”

“Kāsan!” He whined as he sidled up next to you. Laughter and exclamations that no, he was being a good boy clamoured among the young children. He was forcing his face into a pout, trying to fight off the grin upon hearing his cousins vouch for his good behaviour. Kids always fascinated you with their innocence and trustworthiness.

From the corner of your eyes you noticed none other than Futakuchi Kenji lingering conspicuously outside the play area. He charmingly greeted the other guests with a bright smile, with a half-finished champagne flute in his dominant hand. You tried to pay him no mind, knowing that he was probably there to send your thoughts wandering as you wondered just why he was there.

“Kāsan, I’ll be a good boy, I promise! I even made friends with our new cousins!” He grabbed at your arm, shaking it as his body writhed animatedly. Of course you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. He was way too cute for his own good and so were the other kids.

“Okay, okay. You kids stick together, okay?” You paused, comically looking around as if to make sure you won’t be heard by anyone but the ring of children around you. You leaned forward and so did they, your voice dropping to a hush, “I know how much you hate the adults.”

Gasps and giggles erupted like fireworks as you rose to your feet but not before Tarō asked to give you a kiss on the cheeks and the kids who wanted to do the same followed. For some reason, you were one of the aunts that they were drawn to. Yumeko and Yasuko were but older sister figures because even if they were your age, they behaved perfectly like a pair of five-year-olds. Eventually you left the playing area with your heart soaring and just the perfect dose of serotonin.

However, it just seemed to stutter a little bit when you realised that Kenji was making his way towards you. Or perhaps he wasn’t. Maybe if you just pretended that you didn’t see him walk up to you, he wouldn’t see you. Just keep walking, you told yourself. Just keep walking and maybe he won’t approach you. So you did: you kept walking in those sickly stilettos until you were blocked by the crowd forming.

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“What in the–” Your words got caught in your throat when you jumped out of your skin, heart threatening to ricochet through your chest. On the heels of your stilettos you spun to look at him with a pointed glare but you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander.

His long hair neatly fell in graceful locks, accentuating the high apples of his cheeks and the sharp slopes of his angular jawline. He donned a simple all-black suit with a deep maroon tie that had golden embellishments yet he still looked stunning. Wait. He’s not your husband. You shook your impish brain, dispersing such intrusive thoughts about a man who wasn't your husband.

“What do you want?” Your coral lips parted, eyes shifting to meet his gaze. Kenji raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. His lower lip jutted out into what appeared to be a weak pout.

“Why do you always assume that I want something, Y/N-chan?” He grumbled and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully. “I just wanted to ask how you were doing and if Tarō’s really your kid.” Formerly you were thankful that you did not have a drink to muse to but now you really wanted a drink. You already had a husband who was lord knows where. If you were going to deal with such bullshit questions from Kenji, you were going to need a drink. A strong one at that.

“Of course he’s my kid. Do my husband and I look like babysitters to you?” You wouldn’t fault him at all to not know that you had a son with Tadāo. As soon as the both of you had gotten your degrees in university, he had fled out to London for a business opportunity for a couple of years before settling back in Yokohama with a now booming company under his own name. He wasn’t there to attend your wedding six months upon your graduation and you were glad that he wasn’t. Lord knows what would happen between him and your husband.

“I mean, next to him, you look like the babysitter,” he murmured under his breath. You chose to ignore the insult thrown at your husband, waving for a waiter’s attention. The timid-looking boy came up to you with a nervous smile and a trayful of filled champagne flutes. You took one and thanked him before taking a long slip of the drink. “But I’m just saying—he kind of looks like me when I was a kid, don’t you think?”

It took everything in you not to spit the drink in his face right then and there.

“What crack are you on and where can I get some?” He simply chuckled, his eyes lazily floating back to the play area. You mirrored his gaze and watched as your son led the army of kids around, having made-up adventures and having the time of their lives.

“Are you really sure he looks like Tadāo? He doesn’t behave like you too much and he definitely does not take after the big man himself.” You were stunned speechless. You couldn’t quite remember how your husband looked like when he was a child. Had he ever shared pictures of him in his childhood with you? You were never close with his parents, which was a wonder how his mother even gave her blessing. While you were stuck in your thoughts, lips gaping and closing like a voiceless muppet, he chose to add more salt to the pain. “He literally has my eyes and hair.”

“What are you on about?!” You scoffed and took another large sip of the champagne. As the sparkling drink danced down your throat, your feet began to take you elsewhere. Towards the tables? Towards the exit? You didn’t know. “The both of you are cousins; of course there may be some form of resemblance but that’s as far as it gets. You’re sorely mistaken. Tarō is Tadāo’s child. End of discussion.”

Another sip from the champagne managed to cool down the hot seed lodged in your throat until you noticed your husband’s figure across the room. You had to do a double take to make sure it was him—the lights were dimmed for the sake of the father-daughter dance. To your dismay, it was. The same crisp maroon suit, emblazoned with plush velvet on the inside, the same black tie that you made hung loosely around his neck with the top two buttons undone. Your jaw tightened. Dainty fingers manicured just for the occasion squeezed the champagne flute in a vice grip.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes immediately averting your gaze anywhere but on your husband flirting with a woman who was older than the both of you. What was worse was that they clearly had a wedding ring that they both chose to ignore. Unbeknownst to you, Kenji had followed his gaze to where you were looking before cringing a tad bit too obviously and looked away.

“How many times do I have to tell you he’s a good-for-nothing son of a bitch?” He sighed, watching you tip your head back and down the rest of the champagne. Spotting a waiter, you waved them over. At the same time, however, you heard a gruff voice that belonged to one of Tadāo’s uncles chastising him for his words.

“Kenji, calm down. He may be married, but he’s still a man.”

Oh, the audacity. Your lips were pressed in a thin line, passing the empty champagne flute to the waiter. With practiced grace and poise, you gave the old man a vicious smile before it burned into a dark glare. You kissed your teeth to outwardly show your displeasure before turning to face Kenji with the same heavy gaze. He gulped, eyebrows raised in shock.

“You think I don’t know that?” Exasperation clung to your voice like a needy child, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the sudden outburst. With your heart sinking in your chest you took a deep breath, “It’s too late for me to start over.”

“That’s not true, Y/N–”

You didn’t want to listen to what he had to say. Your steps were heavy as they soundlessly clicked against the marble tiles of the ballroom. Even in your haste to get out of such an airtight space you were so polite, excusing yourself in a gentle yet firm voice, snaking between bodies with your head hung low in embarrassment. How fast were you going, you had no idea for once the ballroom doors were forced open by your arms, you found the lift lobby and immediately punched for the ground floor with such brute force that you were sure that your knuckles threatened to bleed.

Kenji’s figure was so tiny when he squeezed past the ballroom doors. With a bitter, tearful smile, you watched as your eyes met and the lift doors closed before you, taking you to the level below so you could breathe once again.

You didn’t care that your feet burned. Glossy tears clouded your view like broken glass shards and the world was but a broken kaleidoscope of colours. You ran until you were struggling to keep up with yourself. You kept telling yourself you wanted to tear yourself away from high society but you knew it was just your husband and his cavalier infidelity. The fact that he doesn’t even try to hide it hurt you more.

Eventually your knees gave in. Your stilettos were long gone, nude stockings the only thing protecting your bare feet from getting hurt by the cement ground. You didn’t know where you were, running aimlessly but all you saw was a bench. A bench that sat alone in a vast area of greens, yellows, and oranges. The world spun around you as you carefully manoeuvred your way to it, plopping yourself down before completely breaking apart.

Sobs ripped through your lungs and like a vicious tsunami, all of your pent up emotions came crashing down. Seeing your husband talk up a married woman where a wedding was taking place was the last straw. You couldn’t take it anymore. How could you? How could he? What happened to the oaths and the vows he had sworn the day of your wedding some forgotten years ago? You were once a woman with dignity and now you were reduced to a lapdog servant waiting for its owner hand and foot, never once treated with respect.

Pulling away your hands from your face you noticed how your mascara had been ruined. You were positive that you looked a mess. Blotches of coral, black, and pink mixed in the palms of your hands in a melancholic, painful dance before a frustrated groan came from an exhausted you. Swatting your hands downwards, the makeup—or lack thereof—fell like paint splatter. Your thoughts were heavy and dark, a storm cloud waiting to wreak havoc and flood the endless depths of your mind, but nothing compared to the weight of the one conclusion that you had come to. Unfortunately, you knew it was hard to–

“Y/N!” Huh?

You blinked back tears, slowly raising your head. You could already feel the hurricane-like aftermath of a headache from all of the crying and the running. It didn’t help that you barely ate during the first round of meal courses. Bringing your closed fists up to your face, you rubbed your eyes gently with your knuckles before realising that it was Kenji running up to you.

His blazer was no longer on him, tie loose and the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, cuffs unlinked. Sweat lined his forehead and you noticed the hint of sweat prints on the underside of his pits as he stood before you, panting with one hand propped onto his hip.

“You . . .” He gulped heavily, catching his breath. “You run so quickly.”

“I just want to be left alone right now, Kenji.” The godawful crack in your voice made you wince. You thought you had cried out enough. Apparently not.

Nothing but silence from him. You could feel his stare on the crown of your unkempt hair but did nothing to prompt him. You wanted to be left alone. You wanted to be left alone. Did you? Because for some reason you felt reassured that he was there. For some unknown reason you felt relieved and at ease within his presence. For some twisted reason you wanted him to hold you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay.

“Listen.” He began. Kenji sunk down to his knees so that you were both face-to-face, but even then you were avoiding his gaze. Cradling the tip of your chin in between his index finger and thumb, he tenderly guided your gaze to meet his, and oh, was it an absolute sight. They were bewitching; intoxicating. His eyes were the dark orange of a sunset shining through fire opals and they burned with a fondness you’ve never seen from him before. They were gentle, as were his hands when they reached down to cup your small hands. “I hate his guts. You know that better than anyone. Don’t you think it’s time we get rid of his pigeon-hearted ass?”

The corner of your lips threatened to tug upwards into a smile at the weird insult. Pigeon-hearted? He’s so weird, you thought, but as you thought that your smile eventually bloomed like a flower in spring. Before you could register your words, your lips were faster than you as you found yourself asking, “What’s in it for you?”

“Aw, Y/N-chan, I didn’t realise you cared about my wants and needs!”

“I’m not doing it!” You sourly frowned. What kind of response was that?! His flowery demeanour dropped as did his voice to but a bare whisper. What’s gotten into him? You get that he was trying to help you—and you appreciated him for it, genuinely—but sometimes you just didn’t understand what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his.

Wait. Pretty? What were you–

“Y/N, I’m being serious. You don’t need that fucker in your life.” Kenji’s voice managed to reel you out from venturing deeper into your ocean of thoughts. Your gaze which had fallen to the ground between the both of you had darted back up to meet his eyes, “You can do better than that. It’s not too late for you to start over with someone else. For all you know, they could be right under your nose this whole time.”

His words tiptoed into the depths of your mind, settling in and making themselves comfortable before sinking into the pitless ocean. Maybe he was right. Maybe you could still start over with someone else, someone who means something to you, someone who won’t leave you in the dirt and someone who would love Tarō for all of him. Oh, Tarō. Your heart longs for the day he will no longer be afraid of the man who is meant to be his dad. You never meant for him to be in such a troubling and stressful environment and all you want for him is the best.

Kenji earnestly stared into your eyes, and you gave him your green light. You deserve a better life. You deserve another chance at giving yourself the happiness that you truly deserved. He smiled brightly when you said yes to his proposition, a smile that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

You maintained eye contact as he rose to his feet after squatting for so long before extending his hand to you. You frowned. Were you supposed to take his hand? You looked up at him, then at his hand, then back at his face. He huffed impatiently, the smile dissolving into a childish pout.

“Hold my hand, damn it! Let’s go back together.”

You stilled at the prospect of heading back to the wedding. You didn’t exactly feel like going back into a room full of people. You had your hotel card in the pocket of your dress (the only thing you thought was worthy of the painfully expensive piece of fabric) and all you had to do was leave Tarō on Kenji’s care . . . sort of. Maybe you could get the twins to take care of him instead. Tarō wouldn’t be too thrilled to have another adult male keep an eye on him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You blinked. Crap. You were spacing out and you didn’t even realise it. “My heels are missing and my feet are too tired.”

You had expected him to laugh, which he did. You had expected him to throw an insult your way, or even joke about how you were growing old so quickly, which he didn’t. You didn’t expect him to offer you a piggyback ride. You threw him a look like he had grown two more heads and a tail, profusely refusing. There was no way in hell were you going to ride him piggyback.

“C’mon, please? That way, my hands are free when I take you back to your room.”

It was unfortunate that he had a point there.

With a sigh, you reluctantly let yourself climb onto his back. You awkwardly pressed yourself against his back, his hands hooking under your thighs and hoisting you up. While it was weird for you, you didn’t mind it. He smelled good, and he was warm compared to the chilly almost-autumn air. He was probably speaking, but you were too tired and comfortable to register his words. Exhaustion took over your limp body and eventually, your world turned black with a promise that everything was going to be alright.

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#Futakuchi Kenji x reader #futakuchi kenji x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #bbthots #hq #꒰⚡️꒱ ⨾ zeus’ thunderbolt #꒰🖍꒱ ⨾ replica

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beauvibaby · 4 years

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beautiful- b.boeser

requested [] yes [x] no

brock boeser x plus-size reader

a/n: y’all I really love this it was very self endlugent and yeah, please show it some love 🥺

You smiled, seeing a notification come up in your phone.

@bboeser tagged you in a photo

You opened up Instagram in record speed, a grin overcoming your face at the picture, you and Easton passed out on the couch, coolie and milo curled up at your feet.

“aunt y/n holding down the fort, uncle Brock just gets to watch”

You laughed to yourself at the caption, liking the photo and taking a screenshot of it. You heard the dogs jumping around downstairs, you were about to lock your phone and head downstairs to greet Brock, when you caught a glimpse of a comment. You read it, once, twice, three times, shocked that people who didn’t even know you could just be so cruel. They pointed out how chubby you looked, and how your shirt was tugged into the small roll in your stomach, it took a long time for you to become so confident, you loved yourself, and you knew Brock loved you and that’s all that mattered. But, we all know, when people point out your flaws it’s hard to not hyperfixate on them. Of course you hadn’t looked your best in the picture, you were babysitting Easton, and ended up falling asleep on the couch with him on top of you, your head tilted down to rest on top of his, which of course, made the fullness under your chin more noticeable. You suddenly found yourself chewing on your lip as you refreshed the page, scrolling through the hundred more comments, if you were being truthful, only a fraction of them were rude, most of them were sweet, but it felt like all you could see were the bad ones.

You scrolled through them, moving into the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror, you were in a pair of leggings and a sports bra, having just been out back playing with the dogs, in the privacy of your and Brock’s yard, but suddenly you felt like you had a million pairs of eyes on you. You read a comment, pointing out the way you had the roll in your stomach, especially towards the sides, you looked in the mirror, eyes instantly falling on the spot, adorned with stretch marks. Your weight had always gone up and down, especially when you were just a young teenager, and now you were littered with stretch marks that would never go away. Not usually something that bothered you, all that you ever worried about was your health, and you were healthy, despite what people were trying to say in the comments, automatically assuming because you were full figured, that you did have a little bit of a stomach, that your thighs were nowhere near having a gap, that your arms had just a little bit of extra weight on them, that you were unhealthy. God how you hated that assumption, it was so rude to assume anyone who wasn’t the typical skinny was unhealthy. Your eyes trained on the marks on your stomach once again, your fingers delicately running over the darker lines, something Brock would do when you laid together on the couch, normally something that made you feel good. Every time he would do the subtle gesture, it made you feel good, feminine, cared for, but in this moment the thought of him ever seeing them again, made your heart jump in your chest. Surely, after reading these, he couldn’t think of you the same again. “Baby?” Brock called, his feet flopping against the stairs, you sucked in a sharp breath, meeting your eyes in the mirror and seeing the so prominent redness in them from the tears welling up. You quickly splashed some water on your face, wiping it off with a towel in an attempt to get rid of some redness, you heard him starting his way down the hallway, and you rushed to grab a shirt, even though it was unlawfully hot outside today, hence the reason you were only in the lightweight leggings and bra. You quickly tugged the material over your head, grimacing when you realized it was one of Brock’s shirts, that just didn’t fit your curves properly, I mean yeah it fit, technically, but it tugged tightly in all the wrong places.

It sat taught on your stomach, showing everything you were trying to hide, but loose in your chest where you weren’t as full as people would think you should be, you were about to tug it back off when you heard him push the door open. “There you are, you didn’t answer me and I got worried.” He sighed softly, walking up behind you, arms going around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry, I spaced out.” You laughed softly, hoping your voice didn’t give you away. He hummed in acknowledgment but you could feel his eyes studying the side of your face, suddenly your thoughts wandered to how horrible your side profile must be, so you tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “I missed you, beautiful.” He mumbled, leaning to press a soft kiss to your lips. You knew he could tell something was bothering you, but you also knew that he could tell you were desperately trying to hide it, he knew how to react when you were like this, he would wait and ask you later, give you a chance to process your own emotions first. “I missed you.” You whispered once he pulled away, you shuffled out of his grip, “I’m going to shower.” You added, disappearing into the bathroom, unknowingly giving him an idea of what could be bothering you, because you shut and locked the door, something neither of you have done for as long as you could remember. He stared at the door for a minute, a small frown on his face as his mind wandered with all the possibilities, you hadn’t seemed upset with him, so he was almost certain he hadn’t unknowingly done something. So that left his other option, someone had said something, he knew people were cruel, and he knew it was part of his life being in the spotlight, but he hated that he had drug you down in it with him. But all he wanted to do was show off the amazing girl that he was so lucky to call his, and the fact that he couldn’t do that without being respected, that really bothered him, because you deserved to be bragged about, you deserved to be filling more of his social media than you were. It was rare that he posted things with you, simply because he knew how it could bother you, but his heart swelled with so much pride when he got the picture of you and his nephew, it only reminded him how much he wanted that with your own kids one day.

He hadn’t realized how long he was standing there thinking about it until he heard the water shut off, and he scrambled to get out of there, not wanting you to know he’d been standing there the whole time. He rushed out of the room, doing his best to stay quiet as you unlocked the bathroom door. You stepped out, towel wrapped tightly around your body, you did a quick once over, looking for him before you stepped out, you went and grabbed some clean lounge clothes, not planning on leaving the house today, but you made sure the ones you grabbed fit you properly. Once you were satisfied enough with your appearance, you trudged down the stairs, coolie rushing over to jump at you while milo slept in his bed. You laughed stopping to pet him, when you looked up you spotted Brock rummaging around in the kitchen, he undoubtedly had to be hungry, just coming back from playing golf with some friends. You were hungry, waiting for him to come home to eat, but now you cringed a little at the thought, not in the way where you wanted to not eat, but your stomach was still in knots from reading those comments. “Hi, baby.” You spoke up, walking past him, opening the fridge and pulling out a water. “Hi.” Brock responded, looking over at you with a grin, you couldn’t help but smile back, his smile was so contagious. “Why are you so smiley?” You teased softly, stepping over towards his outstretched arms, he all but yanked you into him, your chin resting on his chest so you could look up at him. “Mhm, ‘cause I get to spend the rest of the day at home with my girl.” He mumbled, lips ghosting over your forehead, you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment. But it didn’t last long when his finger tips dipped underneath your shirt, his fingers running over your skin soothingly, “don’t do that.” He whispered when you tried to shimmy away from him. “What?” You gasped, feeling like you’d been caught red handed.

“The picture I posted, I know people are just so fucking rude, but you can’t listen to them baby, because none of what they say is true.” He spoke sternly, but softly, one hand staying on your waist, the other coming up to cup your cheek. “But it is true, the way my stomach rolls in on the side, and how chubby my face is, and my thighs rub together and-“ “stop it, you’re beautiful, inside and out.” He cut you off, his brows knit together slightly. “Baby girl, I love you, and everything you just said that you didn’t like.” He continued, watching as your breathing hitched momentarily, “I love it when you know I’m having a bad day and you make me lay my head in your lap, or when we’re going on long drives and I just grab your leg and rub it while you go to sleep. I love squeezing your beautiful face to make you give me a kiss when you’re being goofy,” he paused to do just that, a hand on either side of your face, squeezing together and making your lips fall into a soft pout that he kissed. “And I love grabbing you just like this,” his hands went back to your sides, gripping you snuggly, “so I can hold you close and not let you go.” He concluded, “no, you’re not supposed to cry, baby.” He pouted softly when you looked at him with big watery eyes. “I love you.” You whispered hiding your face in his neck, “I love you too, so much.” He laughed softly, feeling your tears fall on his skin. “Please don’t cry anymore.” He nudged your head with his own, “they’re happy tears.” You sniffled, pulling back to look at him. “How’d I get so lucky?” You wondered aloud, “I should be asking the same thing.”

taglist: @jmaybanks @softstarkey @literarycharleton @mtkachuk @wtfkie

#Brock boeser #Brock boeser fic #Brock boeser imagine #Brock boeser imagines #Canucks

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whitewolfmoving · 3 years

Text

Boston Burning Part One

Pressure

Summary: After the ceiling caves in leaving Nika Stan trapped and injured on an emergency call, she's ordered to take mandatory sick leave until her injuries heal. She can think of no better place to rest and recuperate than in Boston with her (and her brother's) best friend.

Warnings: very minor description of injuries

Word Count: 1459

A/N: Here's chapter one of part one of my two-part crossover series! For a setup chapter, I personally think it sucks a bit. But I hope you like it. This story was born of my love for firefighters, my need for d/Deaf representation, and dreams no one needs to know about but that I told one of my best friends of anyway (hehe). Happy reading!

New York born and raised, Nika Stan had always been her big brother's little shadow.

When 13-year-old Sebastian loudly declared one warm evening at the dinner table that he was going to grow up and be a firefighter like the one he'd seen on the way to school, a chubby-cheeked 4-year-old Nika proudly echoed, "Me, too!" And when her big brother leaned over with his dark ocean blue eyes to kiss her forehead and whispered gently in her ear, "Of course, you will, my little Sunspot!" Nika knew then that she was born for greatness.

For Nika, that greatness took the form of many things throughout her life; from saving kittens stuck in trees and helping her neighbor Mrs. Jenkins across the street after school, to following in her brother's footsteps all the way to the National Fire Academy. Sebastian always taught Nika that she could do and be anything she put her mind to, he was her number one fan and biggest supporter. Whenever she needed a little extra encouragement, he was right there to give it to her. Likewise, Nika did the same for him.

The call that changed their lives came just after 2 AM.

Sebastian was out of bed, dressed, in the car, and walking through the doors of Brooklyn General within the hour. It was late, the emergency room was empty save for the Squad, Engine, and Truck members huddled in the far corner of the waiting area. Before he could make his way to the reception desk to inquire about his sister's whereabouts, the Squad Lieutenant intercepted him.

"Hey, man. They're treating her now and Brooklyn PD is taking her statement. Chief's with her, but she's been asking for you. Straight back, first room on the left."

"Thanks. All of you, for being here. I'll update you when I know more."

The whitewashed walls of Brooklyn General were never Sebastian's thing; he belonged on the outside, keeping people from having to enter its doors. Now, though, he carefully wandered its hallways looking and listening for the one person he never wanted to see taking up residence in the massive building — Nika. The Chief had assured him that her injuries were minor but he wouldn't believe it until he could see her with his own eyes. He continued down the hall to the first door on his left, and knocked before heading in.

To Sebastian's surprise — and the credit of the doctors on call late that night — Nika didn't look too worse for wear. He breathed a sigh of relief and acknowledged Chief Jackson briefly, before he settled in the chair at Nika's bedside.

"Frate mai mare," she greeted softly. She looked up at him with glazed honey-colored eyes, no doubt a result of the mild sedative they'd given her to help with the pain. White gauze poked out from under the right shoulder of the clean hospital gown she wore, her wrist had been placed in a hard cast and propped up on a pillow in her lap. She looked so tiny beneath the blankets.

"Sora mai mică," Sebastian answered in kind. He gently pushed a hand through Nika's hair. watching closely as her eyes fluttered shut at the comforting contact. Once he was certain she'd fallen asleep, he turned to address the other men in the room. "Did she say what happened?"

"She was clearing the top floor, called out and received no response. When she turned to leave, the owner ambushed her from the next room. The ceiling came down on top of them," Chief Jackson told Sebastian calmly. "The only thing she remembers after that is waking up here."

Dr. Fuller handed Sebastian a copy of Nika's x-ray. He hated this part, they all did. Everyone loved the younger Stan sibling as much as Sebastian did, seeing her in any sort of discomfort put them all on edge. "She's got a broken radius and second degree burns on her shoulder and across part of her chest. We'll keep her overnight for observation, just as a precaution. She can go home tomorrow afternoon but it's in her best interest to keep her off duty until her wounds heal."

Sebastian chuckled. "She's not going to like that. Thanks, Doc, I appreciate it."

"Unfortunately, the owner of the house fled the scene before we got there. But from what Nika and a few of the guys were able to give us, we have enough for a rough sketch. I'll keep you updated when we have more information, Seb. We'll find out who did this." Detective Brighton firmly clapped Sebastian on the shoulder before following the doctor and chief from the room, leaving the siblings alone.

Nika slept soundly for three days which the doctors assured Sebastian was normal for the small amount of trauma her body had endured. On the fourth day, he was growing increasingly concerned for his sister's well-being. As he weighed the pros and cons of waiting it out against going to ask Dr. Fuller to recheck Nika's vitals, Sebastian paced back and forth at the foot of her bed.

"Bas, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Nika said. Her voice sounded rough and scratchy from sleep, but at least she was talking.

Sebastian sighed, relieved. His fingers curled around the two small devices in his right jacket pocket, she wouldn't be able to hear him without them but maybe that was for the best right now. He withdrew his hands from the comfort of his jacket pockets, stood at the foot of Nika's hospital bed and braced himself for the flood of emotion and attitude that would soon pour from his sister like rolling thunder.

"Hey, Sunspot. Glad to see you're awake," Sebastian moved his hands with such a calm fluidity when he signed. He'd learned for Nika when no one else would, it often made moments like this a lot easier for them. "How do you feel?"

"My chest is sore, but it's not too bad. Ready to get the hell out of here, honestly. Hospitals wig me out."

"You're good to go today, but you're out of work until your wrist and burns heal."

Nika rolled her eyes and scoffed indignantly at her brother's instruction. Not working wasn't something she knew how to do, firefighting was in her veins. She sighed.

Sebastian chuckled. "Look, Nik, I know you don't want to hear this. But you need to take some time off, to rest, to heal. Do it for me. Please?" He knew he had her with those last five words; Nika would do anything for her brother.

Two days later, Nika stepped off the plane at Boston Logan International Airport.

She walked through the gate with the crowd, happy to be in a place where her brother wasn't for the time being. She loved Sebastian, loved that he wanted to protect her, but his concern lately had been stifling. Nika needed a break, needed a change of scene. As soon as they'd left the hospital, she called Chris and told him what happened. Without a second thought, he told her to come to Boston, said he'd be there when she landed.

She waded through the sea of people heading for baggage claim, keeping an eye out for Chris's tall frame. She was tired, sore, and just wanted to be somewhere she could relax without thinking of the accident for a while. She needed to take her medication, the dressing on her shoulder and chest needed to be changed, and she desperately needed a drink.

"C'mon, Evans. Where the hell are you?" Nika was just about to break down and call him, when she felt a strong hand wrap around her waist from behind.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to stand around by yourself in an airport?" Chris's smooth Boston accent said in her left ear. He had her backpack slung over his shoulder and her rolling suitcase in his hand. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he smiled down at her. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, signed back, "Ready for the pressure to stop. Thanks for letting me stay with you for a few weeks."

Chris grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then kissed the top of her head. His voice met her ear once again. "Ah, Nik. What are best friends for, huh?"

Nika hummed. She missed her brother, but she knew she'd be safe with Chris, too. Being out of the game wasn't going to be easy for the youngest Stan sibling, she was used to the fast pace of firefighting; she counted on it as much as she counted on her brother to have her back. Without it, Nika wasn't sure who she was or who she could be.

Till The End of All Things Taglist: @arrowsandmixtapes @pinknerdpanda

#boston burning #sebastian stan fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #firefighter au

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

what are we made of but hunger and rage?

Summary: 5 times Jiang Cheng relied too heavily on Jin Ling + 1 time Wei Wuxian is there

Word Count: 14.1k

Warnings: questionable parenting, depression, grief, minor blood, mention of torture

ao3

That first night, Jiang Cheng didn’t sleep.

It was almost funny. He’d assumed this round of grief would feel the same as the other, but it didn’t. This time, he felt numb from the start. The only thing that shook him from his haze was the faint cry of a baby who wanted it’s mother.

He wandered the paths of Koi Tower, the grounds feeling more complicated than he had words for. People were mourning and people were celebrating and people were sleeping and he couldn’t understand how they were managing to do it all. He could barely feel his feet. How did he get back here from Nightless City in the first place?

He stood outside the entrance to the room that was supposed to be tended to by servants. They were doing a shitty job. He would have them in the morning even though they weren’t his to fire.

Jiang Cheng pushed the door open and saw that it was all dark. He lit a few candles with the wave of his hand and the baby cried louder now that he knew someone was close by. He closed the door and took hesitant steps towards the bed.

He couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the baby didn’t resemble his A-jie.

Carefully, with shaky hands, he picked up little A-Ling and held him to his chest. He probably held him a little too tight. Be gentle, A-Cheng, A-jie had said because no matter how old he was or how many battles he fought or how powerful he was, he was still young enough that he needed to be told to be gentle with a baby.

He held A-Ling a little tighter.

But A-Ling didn’t cry out or struggle or even act hurt. He seemed to clutch onto Jiang Cheng just as tight, his tiny hand wrapped around Jiang Cheng’s thumb with the same death grip he’d had the first time he’d held him. Maybe he knew, somehow. Maybe he needed it too.

Jiang Cheng let out a shaky breath and let his back hit the wall before he slowly slid down. He landed on the ground and bowed his head over A-Ling, not caring if it gave him perfect access to pull his hair. If anyone came in, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to tell he had a baby in his arms. Good. They’d need to get through him first.

When Jin Ling was born, Jiang Cheng had already decided he was going to protect him with his life. Hell, he decided that long before he was born. The protective feeling that brewed in his gut, melding with the grief and making him feel ill, was hardly anything new. But now it seemed like a much more important job. It wasn’t just him being an uncle anymore.

Surely Jin Guangshan and Madam Jin would both want to have a say in what to do now that Jin Ling, their heir, was an orphan. Jiang Cheng wasn’t going to make it easy. He had never been a fan of the Jin Sect‒he wasn’t really a fan of most people, truly‒and he had no intention of letting them be the primary influence on A-Ling. A-jie, as kind as she was, wouldn’t want that.

And he had no intention to do anything she wouldn’t want. Not anymore.

Tears, more of them, pricked Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he stared at his nephew. He was trying so hard to keep it together. He was so tired of breaking down, of feeling weak, of flailing under the weight of pressure. He was a fucking Sect Leader. He needed to be strong.

Then A-Ling whined a bit more and squirmed in his arms, squeezing his thumb with all his might. Jiang Cheng did his best to cradle him closer, hold him like A-jie did so he would feel safe. But he wasn’t his sister and A-Ling was aware of that and he cried.

Fat tears rolled over his chubby little cheeks, fresh and so relentlessly sad for reasons that he didn’t have words for. Jiang Cheng couldn’t help it when his own tears raced down his face at a much faster pace, accumulating at his neck and around the fabric of his robes and making him feel gross. A few landed on A-Ling too and it seemed he was just feeding off of Jiang Cheng’s sadness.

Part of him was glad for it, though. If someone walked by, all they would hear was a baby crying. They’d be none the wiser about Jiang Cheng himself.

“I’m sorry,” he told A-Ling. The words didn’t quite fit into his mouth, but if there was anyone that deserved those words in that moment, it was A-Ling. “I’m sorry.”

He was sorry he didn’t protect A-jie. He was sorry he didn’t follow Jin Zixuan that day. He was sorry he wasn’t able to convince Wei Wuxian to just let things lie. He was sorry that every goddamn move he’d made, everything he’d failed to do, had led to this moment, had led to Jin Ling being without his mother or father to hold him when he cried.

It was easy to blame Wei Wuxian, but wasn’t he just as guilty? He’d failed to convince him to stop. Wasn’t that his only job as a brother? Wasn’t that what A-jie had died trying to do?

No. No, it was him. Wei Wuxian wasn’t his brother, he was a monster. He’d killed so many people. He deserved to die. Jiang Cheng was sure of it. And, well, whenever he wasn’t so sure, he just told himself that it was true over and over.

For minutes or maybe hours or maybe days Jin Ling cried until his little lungs were too tired to continue supporting that kind of screaming and he sniffled himself to sleep. Jiang Cheng held him close still and closed his eyes. Jin Ling had never let go of his thumb.

And Jiang Cheng had no intention of letting him go either.

II.

Jin Guangshan was dead, the direct heir was barely a year old, and the cultivation world was having a moment.

In the months between A-jie’s death and Jin Guangshan’s death, things had been tense and unsure. Every sect had suffered unimaginable losses into the triple digits and everyone was too fragile to really stir anything up. So they blamed Wei Wuxian for it and ignored everything else. The Lan Sect was quieter than normal, their Hangunag-Jun having gone into seclusion for reasons even though they still had lost nearly two-thirds of their clan in the last five years. The Nie Sect was back to training anyone and everyone who wanted to join their forces. The Jin Sect was acting like nothing had happened at all aside from the fact that Jin Guangyao had now begun to take on a larger acting role in the sect. And the Jiang Sect was doing… alright.

Jiang Cheng was still doing his best as Sect Leader, but he’d been spending a lot of his time in Lanling to watch Jin Ling. Within a week of A-jie’s death, they’d simply pawned Jin Ling off to a group of servants and caretakers, none of which were family. It had angered Jiang Cheng perhaps more than it should’ve, but A-jie wouldn’t have wanted that. She wanted Jin Ling to be raised by his parents like they never were. And since his parents weren’t there, Jiang Cheng was more than willing to fill in.

However, now that Jin Guangshan was dead, it posed a very important question. Who would take over as Chief Cultivator and leader of the Jin Sect?

Jiang Cheng tapped his fingers on the floor as he sat and listened to Jin Guangyao’s speech at their impromptu meeting of all the sects. He couldn’t help himself but be distracted. Jin Ling was getting a little more mobile and part of him expected him to crawl into the meeting and screech something incoherent. He liked to hear himself make noises and he wasn’t shy about choosing favorites. It was petty, but Jiang Cheng held a bit of pride in the fact that he would scream and cry if anyone other than his jiujiu picked him up.

By the end of the meeting, with the full support of the Lan Sect and the reluctant backing of the Nie Sect, Jin Guangyao was now acting Sect Leader and Chief Cultivator. Jiang Cheng didn’t mind. In fact, he was quite glad. It gave him the perfect excuse to do what he’d been planning on doing for months.

“Your Excellency, may I have a word with you?” Jiang Cheng asked as most of the attendants began to enjoy the banquet now that the difficult part had been settled. Jin Guangyao smiled timidly at Jiang Cheng and it gave him all the more reason to want to take Jin Ling back to Lotus Pier. He didn’t trust him to raise him.

“Yes, Jiang-zongzhu?” he asked, bowing respectfully. Jiang Cheng stood up straight and raised his chin.

“Concerning A-Ling,” he said, eyeing the other man just a bit, “Your father and I had planned to discuss the logistics once he had his first year, but, as you can see, that conversation never happened. So I’m bringing it to you. I would like to take A-Ling back to Lotus Pier.”

Jin Guangyao blinked and looked over his shoulder where Lan Xichen stood, kind enough to act like he wasn’t listening but not stupid enough to actually do so. Jiang Cheng didn’t waver and tried not to get angry at the sight of the stupid Lan robes and ribbon.

“For how long?”

“Permanently. Until he comes of age to begin taking on Sect duties‒upon which we’ll reconvene and discuss where to go from there,” Jiang Cheng said. He didn’t leave room for argument in his voice. Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened a bit and his lips parted before he smiled to cover up any shock.

“W-With all due respect, Jiang-zongzhu, he’s the heir of LanlingJin. Shouldn’t he be raised here? Wouldn’t that be the proper thing to do?” Jin Guangyao said. Jiang Cheng eyed him again and lazily raised his eyebrow.

“You weren’t.”

Again, a little bit of shock and a big smile to cover it up. A coward. He didn’t want Jin Ling to be raised by him. As if he would be doing any of the raising in the first place.

“He will still visit here as much as he pleases, but I do think it would be best for him to be at Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng said.

“But‒”

“At Lotus Pier, he will be raised by family. I won’t be pawning him off the servants, he will be under my care at all times. Can you say the same?” Jiang Cheng asked, raising his voice just a little. It was perhaps too much and Lan Xichen looked over at him. But Jin Guangyao couldn’t say the same. “See it as a favor. While you adjust to your new leadership, I will take him off your hands. Are we clear?”

“I-I suppose that‒”

“Good.”

Jiang Cheng turned on his heel and made his trek out of the banquet. A memory of Wei Wuxian doing the same harassed his mind and he felt Zidian spark at his side at the idea. He didn’t want to have anything in common with him, he was already questioned enough. Too many eyes and too many people saying he was too young even if he was allegedly the one to give the fatal blow to the fearsome Yiling Laozu. He didn’t need them comparing him to Wei Wuxian in anything past that moment.

But he didn’t want to be there and maybe the only good thing Wei Wuxian ever did was take his leave when he knew staying somewhere would only get him in more trouble.

Jiang Cheng found the nursery easily considering he'd made the walk to it multiple times a day. He opened the door and the woman on duty stood up quickly to bow for him. He nodded her way and walked past her to where Jin Ling was playing. He crouched down in front of him.

“You’re dismissed,” he said to the woman without looking her way. She didn’t ask any questions, doing as she was told.

Jin Ling looked up at him, instantly starting to cry as he reached up to be held. He cried a lot, more often than not he was inconsolable. Jiang Cheng usually found it impossible to be bothered by it. At least he was making noise. At least he was here.

“Stop crying,” Jiang Cheng said anyway, “When we get to Lotus Pier, you can’t cry as much. It’ll be very distracting to the disciples when they’re practicing. Do you understand me?”

A-Ling obviously didn’t and he didn’t respond with anything other than a harsh little sniffle and more grabby hands. Jiang Cheng let A-Ling grab a hold on his fingers and he stood up, pulling A-Ling to his feet. They did this every day and A-Ling got a little more independent everyday. Today, however, they took a few shaky steps around the room before A-Ling’s little legs collapsed beneath him. Jiang Cheng had a feeling it was entirely because he wanted to be held.

“I won’t be able to hold you forever, you do understand that, don’t you?” he said, lifting him off the ground by his arm. Jin Ling molded into his chest, his thumb going into his mouth as he cuddled close without hesitation.

Jiang Cheng wanted to hate it, wanted to tell him to stop acting like he was cuddly. But he didn’t want to let go and he didn’t want the day to come when he couldn’t pick him up anymore. If they were alone, why did it matter? Besides, A-Ling was going to be different from him. He was going to be better. And if that meant holding him like A-jie would’ve held him, then he could do it.

“Get your thumb out of your mouth,” Jiang Cheng grumbled quietly, pulling his hand away. A-Ling swatted at him in response and maybe he was supposed to discourage that, but he nodded. “Good, stand your ground.”

And A-Ling put his thumb back into his mouth.

III.

Apparently, raising a child without servants was much more work that Jiang Cheng had realized.

The first year in Lotus Pier, it was going suspiciously well. His disciples were very respectful and understanding and they only spared him a few concerning glances whenever he showed up to training sessions with a sleeping baby strapped to his back. Those glances stopped once they realized it didn’t hinder his ability to best any of them.

He couldn’t say for sure if it was the direct cause, but that was around the time the title of Sandu Shengshou began to circulate more.

He kept A-Ling with him most hours of the day and night, really only sparing him when he needed to eat and Jiang Cheng would pass him off to the wet nurse. (It was a rather awkward thing to acquire in the beginning and Jiang Cheng had admittedly found himself in a brothel in search of one before he realized that was very much not the place to go for a wet nurse. In the end, he’d caved and asked his healers to find one for him. He learned far too much about the lords in Yunmeng by venturing into a place like that.)

It was simple until it wasn’t. A-Ling was getting older and he wanted to run around with cultivators with swords. Jiang Cheng found it hard to deny him the exposure and had given him a wooden sword and let him trail him during training sessions. Any of the disciples that were nervous about A-Ling eventually learned not to be. Besides, forcing them to be even more aware of their surroundings by way of making sure they didn’t accidentally hurt the Jin heir wasn’t a bad thing.

But A-Ling would only stay interested for so long before running off. Jiang Cheng lost him three times–the last of which culminated in a fisherman saving him from the lake–before he hired a servant whose sole job was to make sure A-Ling didn’t run off. It helped a little, but Jiang Cheng’s paranoia didn’t decrease.

It wasn’t even just that, either. No matter how many years he reigned as Sect Leader, no matter how much he proved himself as competent, no matter how highly held he was as the Yiling Laozu’s executor, smaller Sects still saw him as too young and less than. They questioned him and badgered him and treated him like he was a child who had no idea what to do. It was infuriating.

Suddenly, years after A-jie and his brother and his parents were all dead, Jiang Cheng found himself craving their guidance and presence even more. He would try to push it away with anger, but, when he stayed still for too long, his demons would claw their way up his mind. They filled his sleep, repeated dreams of each and every one of them slipping out of his grasp. It became easier to not sleep. It was the worst when A-Ling was in Lanling for a weeks time and Jiang Cheng would find himself staring at the wall only to be shaken back to reality by a very concerned disciple who had brought him his food. It kept happening.

He didn’t cry, though. He wouldn’t let himself. If he did, it was a few tears in the privacy of his room in the middle of the night. That’s where it ended. He refused to let it consume him.

But, as A-Ling became a toddler, Jiang Cheng found himself far in over his head. He was loud and unruly and moody. He cried and he yelled and he was decidedly mean to everyone he encountered and it left Jiang Cheng wondering if he’d been a bad influence after all. And, when other Sect Leaders stopped by, it was clear they thought the same.

Today was a particularly bad day. Jiang Cheng was running on little sleep and Jin Ling had been screeching for hours it seemed, his throat and lungs powering him with the inhuman ability to torture everyone in the vacinity. It was driving Jiang Cheng insane.

“Alright! We’ll meet after a break!” Jiang Cheng snapped to his trainees, receiving thankful bows in response. He didn’t mind them as they quickly fled to get a moment of peace, stalking over to the toddler that was wailing and grabbed him by the arm.

Jiang Cheng hauled him inside the entrance hall and all but tossed him as he slammed the door shut. For a moment, he reminded himself of his mother. It froze him for a moment, but Jin Ling’s proud screeching kept him from feeling bad.

“Stop screaming!” Jiang Cheng yelled. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried that method, but all it did was make Jin Ling take a deeper breath to scream louder or possibly earn a laugh. It was infuriating. “Shut up!”

A-Ling paused just long enough to say, “No!” before screeching even higher. Zidian sparked at his side, but Jiang Cheng wasn’t going to use it on him. He wasn’t going to be his mother. He wasn’t going to have his nephew fear him, not like that. A-jie would never want that.

So telling him to stop didn’t work, ignoring him didn’t work, and even trying to punish him didn’t work–though that might be because he was always unsuccessful at punishing him. He was too little for any proper cultivator punishments, but his golden core was clearly well on its way to being better than his father’s. Which was saying something. Maybe Jin Zixuan would be proud of his son’s lung capacity.

Jiang Cheng stared at him for a moment and considered just locking him alone in this room to tire himself out and he could come back when the screaming stopped. Though, that was probably asking for a disaster. But Jiang Cheng was tired and he’d already spent his night staring at the wall and his breakfast feeling far too disoriented to be of use and he couldn’t take this.

So, he did the only thing he could think. He screamed back. Loud, incoherent screaming.

A-Ling paused for a moment, blinking twice before a shit-eating grin found his little face and he laughed. He looked like Wei Wuxian. He stole the smile of a man he never met. Jiang Cheng felt sick.

And he screamed more. And Jin Ling screamed back. And he screamed until he fell to his knees and he screamed until he couldn’t not scream. Maybe Jin Ling was onto something. Maybe he needed this.

Except then Jiang Cheng’s voice cracked and his hands hit the floor. His eyes burned and he was shaking and the screams weren’t really screams as much as they were sobs, a gruesome mix that physically hurt him. And suddenly he was on his hands and knees and crying in front of his nephew. What a big, bad Sect Leader he was.

But at least A-Ling stopped screaming.

Tiny hands pressed onto Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, unafraid of the way he was sobbing and breaking and how he couldn’t stop.

“Don’t cry, Jiujiu,” A-Ling said, “A-Ling’s not scary.”

Laughter mixed in with his crying for just a moment before it was just crying again. A-Ling wrapped his arms around his neck and pet his hair with rough, uncoordinated hands. As pathetic as Jiang Cheng felt, he could at least find solace in the fact that this would be a memory A-Ling would more than likely forget. No one would really bear witness to his moment of stupid, stupid weakness.

But it felt good to let it out.

Eventually his tears subsided and he pulled away from A-Ling’s hug just a little. Jiang Cheng looked at his face, a concerned pout on his little face. He was so young. He didn’t understand and it was Jiang Cheng’s fault for not teaching him right. God, how did A-jie do it? How did she handle Jiang Cheng when he was a terror?

“No, A-Ling’s not scary,” Jiang Cheng sniffled, putting his hands on either side of his face, “But you will be. No one will boss you around or make you feel incompetant. They’ll all fear you. You’ll be stronger than them all.”

“Jiujiu,” A-Ling said. Jiang Cheng took a deep breath.

“No, you’ll be stronger than me too,” he said, brushing back his hair. A-Ling stared, not quite following what exactly he was saying. Jiang Cheng did that too often, spoke to him like he was grown. Maybe he should stop. “Are you bored, A-Ling? Why are you screaming so much? Are you lonely? Use your words. What do you want to do?”

“I wanna play like them,” A-Ling said, pointing outside as his other hands went to his mouth.

“You’re too young,” Jiang Cheng said before he swallowed harshly, pulling A-Ling’s hand out of his mouth. A-Ling scowled and slapped his wrist, his fingers going back into his mouth. He nodded. “Then I’ll get you a practice sword.”

A-Ling was hardly four years old when Jiang Cheng gave him a specially crafted sword, extremely lightweight with blunt edges and dull spiritual energy, but something nonetheless. Jiang Sect disciples usually didn’t start training properly until they were eight or nine, even Jiang Cheng, the heir, didn’t start until he was nearly seven. But no one questioned him when he gave Jin Ling a sword and a bow and began training him alongside the youngest of shidis, all still twice his age.

It was then that Jiang Cheng really saw the boy’s father in him. He took to the sword like an extension of his arm and seemed to immediately understand the importance of treating it with respect. He didn’t fling it around or act like it was a toy, something that had to be punished out of many of the boys much older than him. He was a natural.

There was a bittersweet feeling that came with that undeniable fact. Jiang Cheng bounced between extreme pride and absolute horror. The last time he’d seen someone be such a natural with cultivation was… Well, A-Ling simply wasn’t going to turn out that way. Jiang Cheng wouldn't let him.

It wasn’t that A-Ling was really listening or becoming better behaved as much as it was that he found a new outlet to get attention through. Instead of screaming when A-Ling attended training sessions with the older disciples, he stood alongside them. He corrected men old enough to be his father on their stance and he scowled, mimicking Jiang Cheng perhaps a little too well with each passing day. Some of them found it endearing while others weren’t quite as fond of being outdone by a child. The other children found it particularly annoying.

But it was better. As much as it hurt to see him grow up, it was thrilling to see him be so strong and skilled so quickly. A-Ling was going to be better than his predecessors. He wasn’t going to make the same stupid mistakes Jiang Cheng did.

He was never going to be weak.

IV.

Jiang Cheng stared at the lifeless black-clad body on the ground.

He wasn’t Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng knew it the moment he begged for mercy, the moment he tried to tell him everything he wanted to hear. Wei Wuxian was a lot of things‒a coward was never one of them.

Jiang Cheng took a step back, letting the blind rage fade into something that simmered beneath the surface once more. It was then that he noticed just how much blood there was. Not just on the floor, but on Jiang Cheng himself. Maybe he got a bit carried away. But, then again, that was this man’s fault for practicing demonic cultivation in Yunmeng.

He wasn’t Wei Wuxian.

So why hadn’t Jiang Cheng stopped?

Before he really had the chance to let that question sink in, frantic knocking pounded on the door. Irritation rose in his system again and he went to the door, throwing it open and demanding an explanation when he’d told them not to bother him. Wang Xiaoli, his head disciple, stood there in clear desperation, but his mouth stayed shut and his eyes widened at the scene behind Jiang Cheng.

“What?” Jiang Cheng spat, causing him to look back at his eyes.

“Apologies, Jiang-zongzhu, but there has been an… incident involving Jin-xiao-gongzi,” Wang Xiaoli said, bowing abnormally low for him. Jiang Cheng felt a few different things hearing that, but they all culminated in anger and he balled his hands into fists so tight that he heard his knuckles crack.

“What kind of incident?”

“Jin-xiao-gongzi followed Liu Jingfei and a few shidis on the night hunt they were tasked with this evening. It wasn’t her fault‒Jin-xiao-gongzi stayed hidden until they came across a fierce corpse and, well…”

“Spit it out.”

“He killed it. It bled as if it was still alive. Jin-xiao-gongzi…” Wang Xiaoli hesitated and his eyes drifted to the demonic cultivator on the floor, “He isn’t taking it well.”

“Where is he now?”

“This disciple had him sent to his room.”

“What good are any of you if you can’t keep an eye on a child?!” Jiang Cheng snapped. There was no use. He and Wei Wuxian got into much more dangerous situations when they were A-Ling’s age. They never once followed a shixiong, that would simply mean being dragged home before they could do anything fun.

How times have changed.

“Apologies, Jiang-zongzhu, this disciple takes full responsibility for not watching Jin-xiao-gongzi while Jiang-zongzhu was… busy.”

Jiang Cheng let out a steady stream of air from his nose, his eyes narrowed at the top of Wang Xiaoli’s head. His mind was muddy with too many thoughts and he wanted to yell at everyone who had been careless enough to lose track of a nine year old boy. But Jiang Cheng was the most at fault for that, wasn’t he?

“Clean up this mess and have someone bring a bath to my room,” Jiang Cheng said instead of punishing Wang Xiaoli. He would just require a longer training session tomorrow.

“Yes, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“And find that damn dog because I know he put it somewhere so no one would know he followed them.”

“Of course, Jiang-zongzhu.”

Jiang Cheng tried to ignore any hint of worry in his mind as he left the room that laid beneath a newly-built watchtower. It was a perfect place to bring demonic cultivators, the perfect place to take anyone that claimed to be the Yiling Laozu and keep them away from Jin Ling.

But apparently he couldn’t keep Jin Ling away from things he shouldn’t be seeing.

Be gentle, A-Cheng, A-jie’s voice said in the back of his mind as he stalked across the grounds to find A-Ling. Any servants or disciples that he passed very quickly jumped out of his way, recognizing the look on his face and choosing not to get involved. His people were loyal and he did his best to give them a reason to be‒but they knew when to leave him alone. And yet a-jie’s voice didn’t.

It’d been long enough now that he couldn’t properly picture her face or hear her voice. And, truly, there wasn’t really anyone alive he could compare notes with. He just had to hope whatever he had in his mind was close enough. That alone was enough to piss him off even more than he already was.

Jiang Cheng heard A-Ling before he saw him, the familiar sound of him crying a steady beacon as it always had been. He got him in his line of sight and paused for a moment, staring at the pitiful image of his nephew covered in dirt and blood and dragging himself down the walkway in his misery. Part of his mind told him that he should just let him go, let him learn to cope on his own. That’s what being an adult was. If he thought he was old enough to go on night hunts, then he was old enough to deal with the aftermath.

He was about to do it, too, until he remembered his own first several night hunts. He had Wei Wuxian beside him, someone to make him want to act tough enough to the point he rarely cried after them, but every time they so much as grazed a knee, A-jie had taken care of them both. She praised them and cuddled them and cleaned them and she would’ve done the same for A-Ling. She should be doing the same for A-Ling.

“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng called. His little body froze and he sniffled, trying to gather his composure before he turned to his uncle.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” A-Ling said. It was so very clearly meant to be strong and adult, but all Jiang Cheng heard was his broken nephew. And then his bottom lip quivered and more tears poured over his face. “Jiujiu, it breathed. I-I-I didn’t‒It was alive and I-I-I‒”

“This is what happens when you do things you shouldn’t, bad things happen,” Jiang Cheng said simply, “When you don’t listen, people die.”

A-Ling glared at him the best he could through his tears. “You should’ve let me go when I asked!”

“You clearly aren’t ready for it and none of the other disciples will take you seriously if you act this way. No one will want to be on your side if you do things like endanger everyone on a night hunt because you want to show off,” Jiang Cheng said, shaking his head, “I should make you do handstands or kneel for the rest of the night. Perhaps I’ll even break your legs so you won’t be able to cause anymore trouble.”

A-Ling glared harder and he opened his mouth to yell back, but Jiang Cheng was rudely reminded that he was just a child and had gone through something he wasn’t ready for when he just started sobbing all over again. Jiang Cheng knew a thing or two about being in over one’s head.

Once again, he considered leaving him there and sending him to his room. He even took a step back. Yes, a-jie had comforted them, but wasn’t that what had led to Wei Wuxian turning out the way he did? Wasn’t that what enabled him to become a monster? Wasn’t it the reason that he could count the number of men in his sect that were from before on one hand?

But, then again, he’d rejected so much of both her and Wei Wuxian’s affections and he still found himself in the disgraceful position of beating people to death because they were…

“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng said again. Jin Ling looked up at him, waiting for whatever punishment he was going to give. He couldn’t bring himself to give him one.

Instead, he grabbed A-Ling by the bicep and hauled him off his feet and onto his hip. He was too big to be carried and he was sure people would have things to say if they dared, but A-Ling wrapped his arms around his neck and clung to him as his only source of comfort. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself before he began the walk to his own quarters.

They made it about halfway there before Jin Ling noticed the blood on him.

“It’s not mine,” he said before Jin Ling could properly ask what happened.

There was a pause before he asked, “Then whose is it?”

“Mind your own business.”

A-Ling gave a little hmph, but he put his head back on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and took in a shaky breath. By the time they walked into his quarters, the bath he’d requested was already there. He used a heating talisman to warm it up and carefully put Jin Ling down on the floor.

“Clean up,” he said simply, using his thumb to wipe dirt and tears from A-Ling’s cheek. He nodded obediently. Jiang Cheng grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the bath before taking it behind a separate privacy screen.

He stripped slowly, his body aching for something that had nothing to do with that demonic cultivator. He was tense and angry and overwhelmed. More than anything, he was just tired. So ungodly tired. Then again, he couldn’t actually remember the last time he wasn’t tired. When he studied in the Cloud Recesses, maybe.

Jiang Cheng took out his hair piece to the sound of Jin Ling still crying as quietly as he could and the water sloshing around him. It’d been awhile since they’d shared a room like this. Sure, there were still a few nights A-Ling would crawl into his bed after a nightmare, but it’d been years since he allowed Jin Ling to sleep in his bed from the beginning of the night. Jiang Cheng had no intention of sending him back to his room.

He wiped himself clean of the demonic cultivator’s blood and soon enough found himself scowling down at the red-tinted cloth. He couldn’t pinpoint what about it was so infuriating, but it was. The longer he stared, the angrier he got. Eventually, he threw it to the ground and put on a night robe.

When he walked out of the shield of the privacy screen, he found A-Ling still in the tub and staring down at the water. His hair was still a mess, but he seemed in a completely different world and unable to do anything about it. Jiang Cheng too often saw Jin Zixuan in him, rarely did he see his A-jie. It was moments like these, however, when he saw himself.

And, god, he hated it.

Jiang Cheng walked closer and knelt by the tub. His hands went to A-Ling’s hair and freed it from it’s tie. It barely moved, hardened with blood and dirt and perpetual knots. He sighed and leaned over to grab a comb, carefully working out the knots.

“A-Ling,” he said, glancing at him to see if he actually captured his attention or not. He blinked a few times and flinched when he accidentally pulled his hair when the comb got stuck. Good enough. “This was the first person you’ve killed, but it won’t be the last. You’ll have to get used to it.”

His father never told him that. He was always so lenient. Jiang Cheng had been nearly 16 by the time he found himself killing something that resembled a human being, war taking over and forcing his hand. Jiang Cheng had never been warned and there was too much going on for him to ever understand what he’d done. Now he’d lost count of the lives that had been lost under his sword, under his Sect. It didn’t matter anymore.

“I thought it was a corpse,” A-Ling said softly, “But it breathed.”

“Have I ever told you about my first night hunt?” he asked. A-Ling looked at him a bit oddly.

“No,” he said, “You never tell me anything about anything because you want me to stay stupid.”

Jiang cheng narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t‒Shut up. My first night hunt was a water ghost right outside Lotus Pier gates and they had planned to see a few cultivators to handle it the next morning, but my shixiong wanted to handle it that night. He dragged me out of bed and we went to go take care of it, but I was a little younger than you and we were untrained and unwatched. He got pulled under, nearly drowned.”

He didn’t say his name. The boy he grew up with wasn’t the man that died nine years ago and A-Ling didn’t need that much information. It would be too confusing for him to separate the two when Jiang Cheng could barely do it himself.

A-Ling sniffled, “That would’ve been embarrassing if he did. This is Lotus Pier.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, pressing his hand to A-Ling’s forehead to dunk him under the water so his hair would be wet. When he came back up, he was turning red again and already had a scowl on his little face.

“You could’ve just said!”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng said, dunking him into the water once more. Jin Ling came back up, ready to yell and gripe and act older than he was. Jiang Cheng found himself smiling. “Do you feel better already?”

“I hate you,” A-Ling said, crossing his arms over his chest. Jiang Cheng ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. Fair enough. He got his hair as clean as he could before beginning to braid it. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to finish the story or not?” A-Ling asked. Jiang Cheng’s smile faded and his jaw clenched as he thought about what happened after that.

He’d cried, perhaps worse than A-Ling had tonight, in worry and fear. Wei Wuxian had comforted him despite being the one who was hoarse from coughing up water. When they snuck back into Lotus Pier, A-jie was already waiting for them in Jiang Cheng’s bedroom to check them over. She was the only one that caught them every single time without fail. It was her super power. Would she catch him now? Would she clean him free of the blood of every demonic cultivator he beat, or would she hate him for it?

He had to take a few breaths before he could speak again.

“We killed the damn thing and snuck back into Lotus Pier. We didn’t get caught,” Jiang Cheng said, “So don’t even try because I know every way there is to not get caught and I will catch you.”

“Was that the point of the story? Because I thought it was going to have a cool ending.”

“It wasn’t, you brat,” Jiang Cheng said, tying off the braid, “My… Your mother dried us off and stayed until we fell asleep. She coddled us too much, made us think it was okay to be vulnerable with people if you trusted them. That way of thinking got her killed.”

A-Ling stared at him, eyes clouding with a new layer of tears. Jiang Cheng stood up and grabbed a towel, handing it to the boy who was back to glaring down at the water with tears sliding over his cheeks. He half expected another ‘I hate you’, but A-Ling said nothing as he snatched the towel and climbed out of the tub. Jiang Cheng went over to his trunk of clothing and pulled out an extra night robe. It would swallow A-Ling whole, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been wrapped up in Jiang Cheng’s clothing.

“And your shixiong?” A-Ling asked, a bite to his voice that mimicked Jiang Cheng’s in a way that nearly made him flinch, “What got him killed?”

Me, Jiang Cheng thought immediately. He tossed the robe A-Ling’s way and sat on his bed, his body feeling too heavy to stand all of the sudden.

“His arrogance,” Jiang Cheng chose instead, “He was convinced he was right at all times, even if that meant abandoning everyone who cared for him. He was reckless and got people killed for no reason other than to be right.”

A-Ling climbed into bed. Jiang Cheng looked over at him and he’d already balled up with his knees to his chest. He looked so small and young despite how hard he tried to sound grown and angry. Or maybe he didn’t try to sound angry‒maybe he just was. What did it say about Jiang Cheng if he raised such an angry child?

But, if anyone had any reason to be angry, it was A-Ling. So he wouldn’t take that away from him.

“I don’t want to be that way,” A-Ling said softly, shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone to die.”

“They will, though,” Jiang Cheng said, looking at him seriously, “People die every day for no reason. They die at the hands of others, at the hands of themselves, and they die when you are not ready. It will never stop.”

A-Ling took a shaky breath and bowed his face into his knees, his shoulders shaking. Jiang Cheng reached over and put his hand on his cheek, making him meet his eyes again.

“Don’t let anyone see you cry this way ever again, do you understand me? All it does is make the people around you think you’re weak‒and, trust me, they go into every conversation with that thought in the back of their mind. Don’t prove them right. I don’t care how much you trust someone or think it’s safe to be vulnerable, don’t do it. It will always end badly.”

“Except you.”

“No,” Jiang Cheng said firmly, “Even me. I won’t be here forever and I’ll do my best to keep in control while I’m here, but will never be able to predict when someone loses control and becomes someone they aren’t. You’ve heard the stories of Chifeng-zun and the Yiling Laozu‒two great men who lost control.”

“Shushu wouldn’t like that comparison,” A-Ling whispered, voice uncharacteristically soft. Or, maybe that’s how he was supposed to sound. Soft and sweet and Jiang Cheng had taught him something different.

“I don’t give a damn, it’s the truth,” Jiang Cheng said simply, “It’s unpredictable, so you should allow no one your weaknesses, not even me. I am Sect Leader, I am your uncle, but, at the end, I am no different than any other man. Do not give me or anyone else anything to use against you, do you understand?”

A-Ling stayed silent and still for a long while. Jiang Cheng sighed, feeling too heavy to stay awake any longer. It’d been a long day, a long week, a long year, a long life. He was tired. Always tired.

Jiang Cheng extinguished the candles that lit the room and laid down with his back to A-Ling. He could hear soft sniffling as he tried to cry as quietly as possible. He would get better at it, Jiang Cheng thought, eventually. All it took was practice.

Before Jiang Cheng could fall asleep, though, his nephew curled up against his back, small hands clinging to his robes as if he was a toddler again. A-Ling pressed his face into his spine, seeking comfort from the person Jiang Cheng had just told him not to be vulnerable around. It would get him killed. Not that Jiang Cheng had any intention to be that person, but there was no telling who would use that information against him one day. That was the last thing he wanted.

But he couldn’t bring himself to push him away. He didn’t want to.

A few weeks later, Jiang Cheng would meet with His Excellency Jin Guangyao and agree that it was time for Jin Ling to start living in Lanling so he could take on sect duties and learn the proper Lanling fighting styles. Jiang Cheng had broken the news to him privately and Jin Ling had not taken it well. He kept his tears at bay for a while as he tried to argue, but eventually he’d sobbed and clung to Jiang Cheng and begged not to be left. It was one of the hardest things Jiang Cheng had to do in the last decade.

Out of spite, Jin Ling didn’t write to him for six months. When Jiang Cheng went to visit finally, he would glare and avoid him. Jiang Cheng would ask Jin Guangyao and his wife separately how Jin Ling was adjusting, getting tense answers from both of them that suggested he was doing decidedly awful but refusing to give Jiang Cheng any details about what was making it so awful.

Jiang Cheng had found himself lurking around corners, watching Jin Ling with the other disciples like he wasn’t a Sect Leader. They were all cruel to him, making fun of him for every single reason they could come up with. His dead mother, his dead father, his close relation to the Yiling Laozu, his dog, his uncles. Every time Jin Ling got angry, they would laugh at him. Jiang Cheng was left wondering why the hell he didn’t kick their asses when it should’ve been well known that Jin Ling was extremely skilled, but he found that probably wasn’t very becoming of someone of his status. Jiang Cheng didn’t step in even though he wanted to. It was best he learned to deal with people like that on his own.

When the fourth night of his stay rolled around and Jin Ling snuck into his bed and cried into his back, Jiang Cheng said nothing. He didn’t know if it was nightmares or if it was anger or if it was loneliness and he didn’t ask. Selfishly, Jiang Cheng had no desire to send him back to his room. He wanted to keep him there where he could see him and take care of him.

Leaving him that time had been harder than the first.

Life at Lotus Pier without the little boy he’d raised at his heel was unfairly lonely.

It took Jiang Cheng a year to admit it was loneliness and not just him being ridiculous. His days seemed empty and quiet and his chest ached when he stayed still for too long. It was as if his body had decided he’d gone through another loss, as if A-Ling wasn’t still alive and, truthfully, not that far away. Still, amongst his dreams of A-jie being killed and Wei Wuxian telling him they weren’t brothers and his parents dying to save him, a dream of A-Ling on his knees and crying ‘don’t leave me, Jiujiu, I’ll be good, take me home,’ began to crop up. It was miserable.

He did his best to keep himself busy. It wasn’t a difficult feat, he was running a Sect, and yet it felt like it wasn’t enough. He began to train the younger disciples as well as the older ones, he went on night hunts with juniors, he kept everything nice. His disciples seemed to like him and the rest of the cultivation world seemed to approve of him, finally, and yet it wasn’t enough. He found himself feeling sick with nerves whenever meetings approached, checking himself in mirrors to make sure he looked the part. Would they be able to tell he hadn’t slept?

They typically didn’t‒the word typically being very specifically reserved for Lan Xichen who always gave him a too-polite smile and a soft ‘Jiang-zongzhu, it would bring me great joy to play for you, would you allow it?’. He’d play something that would knock Jiang Cheng out for a dreamless, full night of sleep. Part of him always looked forward to it even if it pissed him off.

It went on like that, every day bleeding into the next. He always listened for demonic cultivators and they were never Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng found himself both annoyed and relieved every time. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if‒when‒Wei Wuxian appeared again. Would he kill him for real this time? He liked to think he would.

When he did finally find Wei Wuxian again, real and in the flesh, he didn’t kill him. In fact, he felt numb all over again.

A day or two or a thousand seemed to lapse with Jiang Cheng doing nothing but staring at the floor, trying to process the fact that Wei Wuxian was indeed back, this time with Lan Wangji as a guard dog. He was angry, he was hurt, he was confused, he was overwhelmed, he was…

“Jiujiu,” A-Ling said as he entered the room without knocking, “I’m going on a‒What happened to you?”

Jiang Cheng looked up at him, blinking a few times and then looking around. He was in his guest room at Koi Tower, but he didn’t remember how he got there. It was light outside, but he was in night robes‒again, something he had no memory of. He’d lost time before, his mind checking out in favor of whatever happened when he wasn’t paying attention, but as he adjusted, he found himself far more disoriented than he would’ve liked. He clutched the bed sheets. Wasn’t he just in Lotus Pier?

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng snapped, looking up at Jin Ling. It was even more disorienting to see him standing there, decked out in Jin robes and gold pieces in his hair and looking so close to being a man. Wasn’t he just a little boy clinging to Jiang Cheng’s robes? Didn’t the one he was wearing have stains on it from when he was little? “Nothing, I’m fine, piss off.”

Jin Ling scowled. “I was just asking because you look like you got ran over.”

“Brat,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, still clutching the sheets. He took a few slow breaths and the door closed. Part of him was shocked when he realized Jin Ling was still there.

“What, did it happen again?” Jin Ling asked, the faintest trace of worry in his voice. So faint anyone that hadn’t raised him probably would’ve missed it.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know, it,” he said, still harsh. Jiang Cheng shook his head, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be mean to me because I’m right,” Jin Ling snapped, “It’s not my fault that I know more than you.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up! You’re the one that, that turns his head off when he doesn’t want it anymore!” Jin Ling snapped. Jiang Cheng furrowed his eyebrows, looking up at his nephew. He wanted to ask what he meant, wanted to ask if he could tell when Jiang Cheng was losing time and how he could tell. Was he the only one or did others notice? Was that why Lan Xichen played for him?

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, get out of my sight,” Jiang Cheng spat.

Jin Ling was nearly shaking with anger, his breathing uneven and heavy. He stalked right up to Jiang Cheng, glaring in all of his teenage anger. Jiang Cheng almost wanted to pester him more, wanted him to yell and bitch and wake up his senses a little bit more so he could adjust to the fact that the Yiling Laozu was alive. Whatever that meant.

“What, you little brat? Spit it out,” Jiang Cheng pressed. But Jin Ling already had that sheen of tears brewing in his eyes. Jiang Cheng was close to mocking him for it, close to saying ‘what did I tell you about crying? I’ll give you something to cry about’.

He didn’t.

“What, A-Ling?” Jiang Cheng asked, voice a little bit kinder if only because he was too tired to keep on if he wasn’t going to be getting anything back.

“I don’t want you to die,” A-Ling said simply, sniffling. Jiang Cheng shook his head.

“I have no intention of dying any time soon.”

“But-but you keep… If you die, I’m going to kill you for it,” he threatened. Jiang Cheng huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“Please do, that’d be a show.”

“Stop it! Why are you joking?! You don’t tell jokes! You-you only tell jokes when you’re like this!” A-Ling accused, “I don’t know what Qi Deviation looks like, but… But if you’re getting close to that, then stop it. I forbid it.”

“You forbid me?” Jiang Cheng repeated. Jin Ling nodded.

“You’re not allowed to die.”

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes, bombarded with how he’d felt the same way towards Wei Wuxian. He’d brother couldn’t die, he wouldn’t allow it. He’d protect him until he couldn’t and then… But that monster wasn’t his brother, right? Because his brother wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t leave him, wouldn’t be the reason their sister died, wouldn’t be so destructive, wouldn’t leave him.

“Jiujiu!”

Jiang Cheng snapped his head up at the desperate call that seemed to be his only reason for getting out of bed most days and saw that distressed face that matched it.

“Stop it,” A-Ling begged. He dropped down beside Jiang Cheng, hugging him like he only did when they were alone and he wasn’t scared of being made fun of or looking like a baby. “Please don’t die.”

Jiang Cheng sat there for a moment and tried to figure out the best way to ask Jin Ling what exactly it was about him that made him think he was dying. He was losing time, yes, but how did he act that made it obvious? What about it made it seem like he was shutting his mind off? What about it made Jin Ling think it was something other than meditation?

“It’s like you go away,” Jin Ling said without him asking and, not for the first time, Jiang Cheng thought maybe he’d done a good job at making his nephew better than himself, “And it’s hard to get you back. It-It’s not like you wake up, it’s like you only come back in little pieces. Wang Xiaoli always said you just had many things to think about and sometimes you focused too hard, but I think he’s stupid.”

Jiang Cheng sighed softly, trying to find the right words. Which would be easier if he was anyone else. He even considered scolding him for calling Wang Xiaoli stupid, but that seemed like the wrong approach. Everything seemed like the wrong approach. Where was A-jie when he needed her?

“I’m not dying,” Jiang Cheng said simply, “So stop worrying.”

“Then what are you doing? It’s annoying,” Jin Ling grumbled into his shoulder.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I hate you,” Jin Ling spat, but his grip on him didn’t loosen.

Jiang Cheng took a deep breath and sighed. Then he spoke before he really understood what he planned to say.

“That man that Hanguang-Jun took to the Cloud Recesses‒do you know who he is?”

“Mo Xuanyu?” Jin Ling asked, confusion in his voice.

Mo Xuanyu. Seemingly no one. A weak no one, extraordinarily weak if the way Zidian reacted to him said anything. And, yet, he wasn’t possessed. Or, at least, not in any way known to man. Leave it to Wei Wuxian to possess someone in a brand new way. Ah, wouldn’t A-die be proud.

“Stay away from him,” Jiang Cheng said. Jin Ling scoffed.

“Obviously. He’s insane, Jiujiu, really. I don’t want to go anywhere near him,” he said, though there was something in his voice that, again, one would only hear if they’d raised him. Jiang Cheng sighed.

“You already have, haven’t you?”

“I‒” Jing Ling said, letting go of Jiang Cheng and gearing up to defend himself. It was almost a welcome change of pace. “I didn’t do anything! He-he just appeared and was talking nonsense‒complete nonsense, Jiujiu. That’s all he does! He‒”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jiang Cheng said, “I’m simply saying to stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

Jin Ling was quiet for a moment. Jiang Cheng couldn’t tell what exactly he was waiting for. Perhaps to be yelled at.

“Why is Hanguang-Jun protecting him?” Jin Ling eventually settled on asking. Jiang Cheng sighed and stood up, making a good and successful effort at not seeming as uneasy on his feet as he felt.

“Because Hanguang-Jun is just as insane.”

Jin Ling left without much more of an argument and it took far too much of Jiang Cheng to let him leave.

He knew Wei Wuxian. There was no way Jin Ling would be able to stay away.

Meditation was very important, Jiang Cheng discovered. It was the best way to keep him from doing something he’d eventually regret, whatever that something might be.

However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to meditate with Wei Wuxian back at Lotus Pier. Every time he tried to focus, he’d hear laughter echoing through the space that seemed to absorb it like the walls themselves missed him. Because of course they would.

“Jiang Cheng! Let me bother you for one moment, look, Shidi, look,” Wei Wuxian said. Jiang Cheng reluctantly opened his eyes to see a wide smile on his far-too-close face. He had to lean back before he scowled.

“You bother me at all moments,” Jiang Cheng said, shoving his shoulder. Wei Wuxian laughed harder and sprawled beside him, pointing out to whatever he was meaning to show him.

The young disciples Wei Wuxian had taken to like a mother hen seemed to notice their Sect Leader was watching and looked between each other. Wei Wuxian waved his hand to urge them on and they very reluctantly listened. In pairs of two, they’d jump onto the roof or glide across the courtyard or just show somehow that they’d gotten very good when it came to studying qinggong with their precious Wei-qianbei.

“Look at them go!” Wei Wuxian praised, laughing as he leaned back.

“If they fall, you’re the one handling it,” Jiang Cheng replied.

“Obviously.”

It hadn’t really been something they discussed. Wei Wuxian showed up a few months back, claiming to be traveling, and simply… hadn’t left. The first few weeks he seemed to be waiting for Jiang Cheng to throw him out as he slowly got more and more comfortable in the space, but Jiang Cheng had no intention to. For the first time since Jin Ling went to live in Lanling, Lotus Pier didn’t feel so empty.

Not that he’d ever say that.

He knew this wasn’t permanent, however, because one day Wei Wuxian would realize he wanted to go back to the Cloud Recesses and Jiang Cheng wouldn’t see him for months on end if not years. But, for now, he would let Wei Wuxian stay and he would act like he didn’t want him there and Wei Wuxian would get that it was an act and he would still never stop. It was easier that way. When he left, it wouldn’t hurt as much if he never let himself like having Wei Wuxian around.

“Their little determined faces are so cute, Jiang Cheng, I can’t handle it,” Wei Wuxian said dramatically, putting his hand on his chest as he leaned back. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “I want one.”

“What, a child? Didn’t you have one?” Jiang Cheng said, bitterness in his tone despite having no reason for it. Or, maybe there was a reason. Didn’t matter.

“Mm, sort of, but Sizhui is all grown and only so many years younger than my face, I feel silly acting like he isn’t. Ah, well, this will have to do,” Wei Wuxian said, brightening up as he pushed himself to his feet and made a show of his own qinggong as he all but flew down to meet them. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes again, trying to meditate.

Once the great Hanguang-Jun discovered Wei Wuxian had been staying in Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng had received a thinly veiled threat disguised as a respectful letter. If something happened to his precious Wei Ying or if he was disrespected in any way while in Yunmeng, Hanguang-Jun wouldn’t hesitate to deliver the consequences. He’d rolled his eyes and burned it. If Jiang Cheng hadn’t killed him yet then he obviously wasn’t going to.

Besides, Wei Wuxian actually enjoyed teaching the little ones whereas Jiang Cheng had simply taken on the task to fill the empty spaces that Jin Ling had once taken up. They were learning well and actually enjoyed Wei Wuxian, so it simply felt cruel to take him away from them.

Evening meals were spent in the company of Wei Wuxian, something that Jiang Cheng had been reluctant to get accustomed to, but now find himself looking forward to it‒which, truly, pissed him off even more. They’d started out with small talk and gossip that wore at Jiang Cheng’s restraint, but, somehow, it turned into speaking of more useful topics like Sect decisions. Wei Wuxian gave honest input and was a helpful ear and it was too easy to think this was how it should’ve always been. The two of them, running things together, side-by-side, the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng. That pissed him off too.

Though, sometimes, if he had enough alcohol, he’d forget to be as angry.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, don’t you worry. I’ll hold things down while you go to that stupid discussion conference,” Wei Wuxian insisted, tilting his head back to drop a noodle into his mouth. Jiang Cheng cocked an eyebrow, pausing with his fifth or sixth cup of wine pressed to his bottom lip.

“You don’t want to come? Hanguang-Jun will be there, probably Lan Sizhui, as well, since you say he’s returned to the Cloud Recesses,” Jiang Cheng pointed out. Wei Wuxian hesitated before he shrugged.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to show my face just yet,” he said. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and finished off his drink before putting the cup down to pour another.

“If anyone says anything, Hanguang-Jun will have their head. They’ll have to get used to you anyway as a high-ranking member and teacher within the Jiang Sect,” Jiang Cheng said firmly. He couldn’t imagine someone actively disrespecting him when he had that all going for him. Still, a small smile pulled at Wei Wuxian’s lips and his eyes looked a little far away as he nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he agreed, “I guess I’ll come.”

It took Jiang Cheng until the next day when he was sober to realize the error of his ways. He’d nearly broken the table in his room when he realized that there was no way Wei Wuxian would remain a high-ranking member and teacher within the Jiang Sect. He would see Hanguang-Jun, they’d speak in person after months of nothing but letters, and then he would be whisked back to the Cloud Recesses. This is what he gets for getting too comfortable.

The trip to Lanling for the discussion conference was far too long since they couldn’t fly with Mo Xuanyu’s core being equivalent to the little juniors Wei Wuxian was teaching. It was hours upon hours of Jiang Cheng glaring and ignoring Wei Wuxian as he bubbled with excitement. Lan Zhan, this, Sizhui, that. He was wearing YunmengJiang colors for possibly the second or third time in his life and it almost made it hurt worse that he wouldn’t be returning to Lotus Pier. And how dare he leave the responsibility to Jiang Cheng to tell all the youngest juniors that Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back? The bastard.

“I’m going to pinch his cheeks so hard,” Wei Wuxian stated far too proudly, “His face will be red for the entire day.”

“Whose,” the man who was controlling the horses that pulled their cart asked, the only one who had been entertaining Wei Wuxian through the trip, “Hanguang-Jun’s or Lan-xiao-gongzi?”

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian hummed thoughtfully, tapping his finger against his nose. Jiang Cheng wasn’t entirely sure his teeth didn’t crack when he clenched his jaw in irritation. “Both, I think. Just so they won’t forget me.”

“As if anyone could,” Jiang Cheng spat. It was meant to be an insult and yet Wei Wuxian grinned somehow even wilder, shoving his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head and shoved his shoulder again. “Why are you so angry? Do you think Jin Ling is going to let this be that bad? He’s only doing this to prove himself, you know. He must’ve had a good teacher.”

Jiang Cheng had to repress the urge to throw himself off the cart.

His anger worsened even more when Wei Wuxian damn near launched himself at Jin Ling upon arrival. He was so happy and excited to see his precious Hanguang-Jun that he had to force hugs on Jin Ling. The brat himself scowled and lightly fought his embrace, but Jiang Cheng knew him well enough to know he very clearly didn’t hate it that much.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” Jin Ling said when he walked up closer, bowing. Jiang Cheng bowed back.

“Jin-zongzhu.”

“Aiyo, this is boring,” Wei Wuxian whined, earning glares from both of them. He smiled. “Give me a tour!”

“You’ve already had a tour, Wei-da-jiu,” Jin Ling said a bit harshly. Jiang Cheng felt his blood start to run cold. Wei-da-jiu.

“Then give me another one. I need something to waste my time on, don’t I?” Wei Wuxian said, already strolling forward as if he owned the place. Jin Ling glared and all but ran to catch up with him. Jiang Cheng needed wine.

Jiang Cheng trailed them on a fairly lackluster tour. Servants and Jin disciples were all bustling around Koi Tower in an attempt to get everything ready. The Jiang Sect had arrived early, but that was to be expected. The rest of the clans would be showing up this evening and they’d have a banquet and the real discussion would begin the next morning.

It was about superficial things, really. Little talks of which junior disciples might be shaping up to be powerful cultivators or discussions on any marriages between the sects. All of it civil and not at all tense. Hopefully. Jiang Cheng was ready to get it over with and go home.

He followed them with his thoughts elsewhere until he came across the Lotus garden he was certain hadn’t been taken care of with Jin Zixuan dead and no one in Lanling really being an expert on them. And yet it seemed to be flourishing with a small placard claiming it as a memorial garden for Jiang Yanli. When did that get there?

“Head Disciple Jin Yunru suggested we restore it,” Jin Ling said once he noticed Jiang Cheng staring. His voice was small and young, reminding him of that little boy who stuck by his side and he carried until he didn’t want to be carried any longer. “And since the anniversary is soon…”

Wei Wuxian made a small sound of realization and he looked over at them, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in surprise. Jiang Cheng had half a mind to throw him out of Koi Tower for that reaction alone.

“Wait, what day is it?” Wei Wuxian asked. Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling both scoffed in irritation.

“You don’t know what day it is?” Jiang Cheng pressed. Wei Wuxian all but pouted and then he turned to Jin Ling.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it? Or, at least, it’s around this day,” Wei Wuxian stated. Jin Ling’s whole face seemed to turn bright red with irritation and he looked away. Jiang Cheng turned his eyes to the garden and tried to find solace in that. “Ah, why aren’t we having a party? A proper one, I mean, not a boring conference.”

“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” Jin Ling stated firmly, head held high. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure if that was true because he chose not to celebrate his birthday or if it was because Jiang Cheng never gave him the option to.

“But your age is such an important one in every young man’s life, it should be celebrated!”

Jin Ling glared at him and sneered a simple, “Do you even know how old I am?”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to argue, but he paused and then simply shrugged as if that was enough.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll celebrate. Ah, you should’ve said something, I could’ve gotten them to bring Lan Jingyi along. Oh well, Lan Sizhui and Ouyang Zizhen will both be here and Lan Zhan and do you think I have enough time to go into town? I’ll be back, I will, we’ll have a party after the banquet, just the people you care about, I promise,” Wei Wuxian rambled, all of that excitement from the ride here still bubbling out of him. Jiang Cheng was beginning to think it was nervousness.

“I don’t‒” Jin Ling started, his voice raised and looking completely overwhelmed with Wei Wuxian’s forced celebration, “I don’t care about any of them!”

“They care about you, though, so close enough,” Wei Wuxian smiled, reaching out to pat his cheek. Jin Ling slapped his hand away and Wei Wuxian laughed.

“I’ll be back!”

“Bring someone with you so you don’t get killed!” Jin Ling yelled after him. Wei Wuxian turned around, walking backwards as he made some exaggerated facial expression that was apparently meant to be translated to ‘I’ll survive, just watch’. Jiang Cheng felt a little sick that it was that easy to translate.

He needed to go home.

“How are you dealing with him?” Jin Ling grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was clearly very much excited for whatever sort of makeshift party Wei Wuxian was going to throw together. It was disappointing to say the least.

But, then again, once Wei Wuxian went back to the Cloud Recesses, he was much more likely to come visit Jin Ling than he was to visit Lotus Pier. Maybe Wei Wuxian wouldn’t disappoint his nephew. And, well, if he did, Jiang Cheng would just have to take care of it.

It had taken Jiang Cheng a while to get used to Wei Wuxian being alive again. Jiang Cheng spent a lot of time after Guangyin Temple being angry at the world, angry at himself and Wei Wuxian. His nights were full of sadness, nostalgia of youthful memories threatening to choke him every time he tried to close his eyes. He had worried Wang Xiaoli and Jin Ling. He hadn’t faltered in his duties as Sect Leader, but the weight of his anger and grief were a physical thing he couldn’t seem to shake. How exactly was he expected to cope with the fact that his entire perception of nearly the last twenty years had been a series of ever bigger lies? How was he supposed to handle having the Yiling Laozu alive after he’d spent so many years killing anyone who resembled him?

But these days, meditation helped him. He ended up excusing himself to go do so in the room he always stayed in until other guests began to arrive. Jin Ling, surprisingly, didn’t argue. Instead, he made a snide comment about how it was better than him exploding and stalked off to go take care of things and stuff.

Meditation was helpful most days, yes, but today it only forced sadness into him in place of anger. Sadness over another birthday his A-jie was missing, over how many bad habits he’d instilled into A-Ling, over how Wei Wuxian would be gone again and he couldn’t say anything about it because why would he.

Years and years of watching A-Ling grow up lonely and it’d taken him until A-Ling’s 18th year to realize he’d learned it from Jiang Cheng himself.

“I’m trying my best, A-jie,” he whispered into the empty room. He was trying his best to stay put together, to be a better role model, to be a better Sect Leader, to be a better brother. And his best, most likely, was either not enough or would go completely unnoticed.

He tried to shake the sadness from him and sought the anger he knew was there somewhere. It was easy whenever he had to bow to brand new Chief Cultivator Hanguang-Jun and then had to watch Wei Wuxian act like a teenager around him all over again, hanging off him and teasing him as if there weren’t bystanders. Wei Wuxian pinched his cheek and whispered in his ear and gave him mischievous smiles. Jiang Cheng didn’t understand how he could be so shameless and oblivious at the same time.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” a voice said, tearing Jiang Cheng’s focus away from where his ridiculous brother was eating his dinner like it was a game on what he could do to make the Chief Cultivator cause a scene. When he looked up, he saw Lan Sizhui bowing before him.

The few times he’d met the kid, Jiang Cheng had been admittedly annoyed. Finding out he was the product of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s combined teachings really only pissed him off more. He was outwardly kind and warm, but he was also clever and strong. He couldn’t help but feel like A-jie would be far more proud of the work they did than the shoddy job he did raising A-Ling to be nothing but angry and alone.

“Lan-xiao-gongzi,” Jiang Cheng greeted. Lan Sizhui smiled in a way that probably would’ve caused him to pop a blood vessel had he not meditated earlier in the evening.

“This disciple wanted to thank Jiang-zongzhu for inviting him to Lotus Pier in two weeks' time,” he said. Jiang Cheng wasn’t able to hide his confusion. “Wei-qianbei wanted to formally show this disciple the beauty of Lotus Pier. Jiang-zongzhu’s kindness in opening his home is greatly appreciated.”

It took a few moments to realize the weight of what exactly that meant. So Wei Wuxian didn’t plan to leave. Or maybe he simply planned to come back. Jiang Cheng didn’t know which one was more likely to hope for. It was agonizing to try and figure it out.

“Wei Wuxian is a respected member of the Jiang Sect,” Jiang Cheng said slowly, clenching his fists so he didn’t do something stupid like yell across the banquet what the hell Wei Wuxian was planning to do with himself, “His family is welcome within Lotus Pier at all times.”

Lan Sizhui seemed to brighten up a bit even though it carried a bit of hesitant weight to it. He opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly closed it again and smiled. Jiang Cheng watched as he bowed again, waiting for him to ask whatever he clearly wanted to. It didn’t come that easily.

“Out with it,” Jiang Cheng said. Lan Sizhui looked a little startled. “Speak your mind, I’m sure you’ve been taught that by at least one of the people who raised you.”

Lan Sizhui blinked and smiled, standing up straight only to bow again.

“This disciple had considered asking Jiang-zongzhu’s permission to let Wen-qianbei visit Lotus Pier when he does,” he said softly, carefully. Calculated. All Lan Wangji. “But he understands that was an inappropriate question.”

“Why is it inappropriate?” Jiang Cheng asked, cocking an eyebrow, “Did I not just say Wei Wuxian’s family is welcome? Is he not family? Did I misinterpret something else along the way?”

Lan Sizhui stared at him for a long stretch of time before blinking out of it and nodding his head.

“Thank you, Jiang-zongzhu.”

Jin Ling walked up at that point, making a face at Jiang Cheng before he told Lan Sizhui he was needed elsewhere. As they walked away, he heard Jin Ling promising that Jiang Cheng being a bitch was simply because he liked him.

The banquet continued to be uneventful, yet dread still pooled in Jiang Cheng’s stomach with each passing moment. That only got worse as he was dragged into Wei Wuxian’s quarters after most of the attendees had gone to bed to see a poorly decorated room with a table full of wine and people who he was certain didn’t like him very much.

He stayed by the wall as Wei Wuxian doted on Jin Ling like he never really had a chance to, pestering him and laughing loudly at him. He watched as Wei Wuxian encouraged Jin Ling and the two juniors to drink with him, Hanguang-Jun turning his head when Lan Sizhui took his first sip to pretend he didn’t witness it which made Wei Wuxian laugh like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. He watched them enjoy each other while he stood to the side again.

That’s how it was supposed to be, truly. Not them together, but Wei Wuxian with all the warmth in the world while Jiang Cheng stood to the side. That’s how it had always been. Wei Wuxian and A-jie or Diedie or everyone with little A-Cheng watching by himself. And when Jin Ling smiled bright like boys his age should, when he never had before, except maybe at his damn dog, his cheeks flushed red with alcohol and drunken giggles spilling from him, Jiang Cheng was even more aware that he’d never been as welcome. He was a poor placeholder.

Jiang Cheng slipped outside, knowing his absence wouldn’t be noticed, and let himself take a breath as he looked towards the lotus garden. Tears pricked his eyes stupidly. So many years had passed, so much time had been wasted with him trying and failing, and he still found himself letting everyone down. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Jin Ling smile that way. What would A-jie say?

Nothing. She’d be disappointed and she would say nothing. And he still wanted her here. He still wanted her guidance, wanted her to promise him that she wasn’t angry for the way A-Ling had turned out. Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d pet his hair and hug him tight and make him feel less like he’d failed her. But, then again, when had he ever been a lucky man?

“There you are Shidi! You’re missing out on all the fun,” Wei Wuxian said as he joined him. Jiang Cheng looked down, wiping his face as quickly as he could. The tears didn’t really stop, though, and Wei Wuxian had never been that stupid.

He didn’t say anything, though, so at least he decided not to be cruel.

Wei Wuxian stepped up beside him, bumping his shoulder against Jiang Cheng’s softly. He wanted to snap at him, but he couldn’t find the energy. Because, stupidly, at his core, he just wanted him to keep standing beside him.

“You missed Jin Ling laughing so hard wine came out of his nose just because Sizhui called Lan Zhan ‘Baba’ before passing out on the table,” Wei Wuxian said. Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he was supposed to react to that. Should he laugh? Should he be jealous? Should he make a stupid comment about Lan Sizhui having a Baba? “He noticed you left, you know. The kid’s a Jiang Cheng whisperer‒he knows exactly what you’re feeling at all times. Said a funny little thing, too, about you being scared that I’m not going to return to Lotus Pier. I wonder where he got that from.”

Jiang Cheng huffed a laugh, “I assume Hanguang-Jun plans to steal you away into the Cloud Recesses now that he’s seen you again.”

“Do you think I haven’t seen him since I started staying in Lotus Pier? I’ve seen him,” Wei Wuxian said, a smug and teasing tone in his voice, “He wouldn’t drag me back unless I wanted to.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“When you’re older, you’ll understand better,” Wei Wuxian sighed. Jiang Cheng glared at him through wet eyes and elbowed him in the side, earning soft laughter as Wei Wuxian came closer. “I haven’t decided what I want to do yet. If you don’t plan on kicking me out of Lotus Pier, then I don’t want to leave yet.”

Yet.

“Ah, that kid,” Wei Wuxian said, quickly changing the subject and Jiang Cheng didn’t know whether to be thankful or annoyed. Part of him just wanted to kick Wei Wuxian out so he didn’t get used to the way things were just for him to leave. The whole thing had been a pipedream since they were little and yet… “Eighteen and such a good Sect Leader already. He’s got the best uncle in the world as his role model, so we shouldn’t be surprised. And, well, you’re there too.”

Wei Wuxian laughed like it was funny, but Jiang Cheng couldn’t find it in him to do anything but let his chin hit his chest. His fists clenched at his side. Eighteen years old and an angry boy who hadn’t smiled in years for anything other than his dog until a myth himself rose from the dead. He should hate Wei Wuxian for that alone. He wanted to hate him, it was easier. But he couldn’t. And A-jie wouldn’t want him to.

“She should be here,” Jiang Cheng said softly. Wei Wuxian breathed softly and moved a bit closer until he wrapped his arms around Jiang Cheng from behind in a hug. Instinct told him to push him off, but his arms wouldn’t move.

“She should,” Wei Wuxian agreed, “And I… I’m so sorry she’s not. I think if everyone had just listened to her, half of everything bad that happened to us wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Do you think we could’ve achieved world peace with her soup? I think we could’ve.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Jiang Cheng accused, but it came without any weight. Maybe he was right. She solved nearly every fight they had as long as they listened to her.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian said, “I know and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“It wasn’t…”

They both fell silent, thinking too hard about regrets and lost time and lost everything. Wei Wuxian took a deep breath and sighed, giving Jiang Cheng a little squeeze. He had half a mind to hit him or elbow him in the stomach, but he wasn’t quite ready for him to let go.

“She would be proud of you,” Wei Wuxian said, “Jin Ling… He’s a little angry, but he’s good. He’s got a good heart, a good understanding of right and wrong. You taught him well.”

“I taught him to hate you.”

“Yeah, but he thought for himself and decided I wasn’t so bad, didn’t he? That’s how you know you did good, they’ll go against you if they feel it’s the right thing,” Wei Wuxian decided. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes.

“I made him lonely.”

“Mm, but that’s changing too. He’s got Zizhen and Sizhui and Jingyi‒they’re all good kids. They’re a little older and tease him, but they take care of each other. That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it? Someone to take care of you and tease you even when you’re a big, bad Sect Leader?” Wei Wuxian asked. Jiang Cheng huffed a laugh.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

No, he really didn’t.

#jiang cheng #jiang cheng fic #jin ling #wei wuxian #the untamed #mdzs #the untamed fic #my fic

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leland-chapman-the-bounty-hunter · 3 years

Text

Murder Under The Cold Moon

So, I wrote a short story for my creative writing class. Underneath the cut is like the third (?) draft of it. It sits at about 4.8k words at the moment and I think that there might be some more content that I could add to it. Other than that, I think that is it.

TW for depictions of violence-none of it graphic & mentions of underage drug use.

Duke was never one to find his place with the other children on the street. It not like he couldn't just go up to them and ask them to play. They would easily bring him into his group. But he never felt connected to any of them, honestly. The kids were a few years younger than him. Just starting first grade or kindergarten while he was nearing middle school. They were just other kids that his mom forced him to play with whenever she was in sight. But since she wasn't, he wasn't about to pretend to play with these children. The ones who really only played with him because their parents forced them to do so.

Rather, his pants were rolled up to his ankles and his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. His shoes were half a mile down the creek and his jacket a mere quarter of a mile downstream. The water neared body temperature and if you were already in the water by the time its temperature started rising, you didn't feel it at all. Duke's hands finished in the water for tadpoles. Each time he dipped them in, his hands came out as red as a tomato but only a few degrees warmer than his skin. Not too hot but just warm enough to feel a difference.

Duke rummaged around in the water for a few more minutes before he came up empty-handed again. He had heard the frogs at night, so why were there no tadpoles? Were they just too far away for him to get to them? The calls of the other children neared. His cue to pack up and leave even though he wanted to wade in the water alone for a bit more. Duke rushed back to his clothing. The mud clinging to his feet with every step he took until the mud-caked on his feet was nearly a pound of extra weight.

Duke pulled himself up the bank and to the top of the drop-off. His church jacket-a light beige in color and too thick for the weather outside-was in the place he last put it, hanging on a small oak tree branch that still had some bend to it. He stomped off the mud as best as he could, wiping what little was left of the mud onto the grass. Duke only had to walk a bit before his dress shoes came into view. Then, his house which lay on the right side of the creek a mile and a half from where Duke had been before the kids had come. Even from all the way back where he was, he could see the smiles on their still chubby cheeks. No more than four years younger than Duke right now.

"Duke," His mother chastised as he walked through the door and into the mudroom where he began stepping down to his underwear. "I thought I told you not to play in the creek today."

"No, you said not to play in the creek tomorrow. That's when Charlie is coming."

"I said Sunday, Duke. Sunday. Not Monday." His mother let out a sigh. "I'll go put out some more Sunday clothes for you but no more playing outside, do you hear me? I want you to look nice when your cousin gets here."

It wasn't like Duke needed to make a good first impression on Charlie. He had already made the first impression when the whole family had a reunion at Kings Island and he threw up on Charlie after one of those tilt-a-whirl rides. Even though he barely remembered the memory, only the stories, Charlie had still been old enough at the time that he would remember the incident with more clarity than he did.

Duke placed his dirty clothes into the washer with the rest of the clothes that waited to be washed. From there, he headed to the bathroom to wash what little mud remained on his body. His own room connected to the bathroom much like his mother and father's room was. Soon, the number of toothbrushes would go from three to four with the arrival of his cousin. He wasn't all too sure about how he felt. On one hand, he was excited to see the cousin that he had seen so long ago. On the other, he wondered if Charlie would even feel the need to come out of his room. That he really only needed to come out for mealtimes and that Duke wouldn't see him for the year that he stayed at their house. Like a ghost that they couldn't get rid of.

His father said he was a troublemaker. That he had been sent here to straighten up as a last resort before he was off to military school. Charlie could not have been that bad. The last time Duke saw him, he was still blonde-haired and blue-eyed. The spitting image of Captain America. They only really saw each other at family reunions and those stopped back when Charlie was around eight or nine. His mother and father wouldn't tell him why How bad could he have messed up in the year or two since he had last seen him? Duke knew he had been raised in nearly the same God-fearing household as Duke did.

Duke wandered into his room. His eyes fixated on the small suit that had been laid out in front of him on his bed. Duke didn't struggle with putting it on. He had spent too many Sundays he now spent putting one on for church. Ever since he could dress, he had been tasked with doing it himself. His parents are too busy to help him anymore. Even if he wanted help, he wouldn't be able to get it since there was going to be a new arrival coming to the house was so soon. His mom was portably putting

"Duke!" His mother called from somewhere in the house. "Charlie and his family just pulled up. Get to the door!"

Duke hurried to the front door. Did he look okay? He checked himself in the mirror that hung above the bench one last time before he turned to the front door. His hair did not have a single strand out of place. His hair was still gelled back from that morning's service. Would his aunt and uncle recognize him if he opened the door? They had to, right? He didn't think he had changed all that much between when they last saw him and now. The car doors slammed shut. A rush of adrenaline ran through Duke's body. Three shadows appeared in front of the frosted glass. Duke rushed to place his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob before they did. Duke flung open the door with a little more ferocity than he would have liked.

Charlie now sported long, black hair. His jeans ripped and his eyeliner muddied. The leather jacket he wore looked new as if he had just bought it. Long gone were the days of a weirdly patriotic love for America that his blue eyes and blonde hair once said. It looked like he would end up kicking a kitten while it was down instead of picking it up off of the ground and carrying it five miles to the vet as Duke had once heard about him. Charlie looked like the kind of man that Duke's mom told him to stay far away from when they walked through the city. A far cry from the stories his mother would tell him when His face hardened with the rebellious teen years that Duke was only a few years away from.

"Well hello there Duke." His aunt smiled down at him. Her hair was just as blonde as Charlie's once was. "We haven't seen you in a while, it's been what? Two years?"

Duke's mom and dad rushed in before he could answer and ushered his aunt and uncle into the living room which left only Charlie and Duke to ponder in silence while awaiting further instruction. Charlie didn't look all too rebellious. Nor did he look like he was worried about the possibility of being shipped off to military school next summer if he didn't shape up. His face was stone cold. Tired, almost. Even though the drive from his aunt and uncle's house wasn't that far. Duke's mother soon came back with a smile on her face still. Her smile was surely more painted on than real.

"Please show Charlie to the guest room. We'll have dinner at five."

Duke began his walk in the opposite direction as his parents. Charlie's footsteps followed a bit later. The guest room was right across from Duke's and had stood empty aside from a bed for as long as he could remember. Only a few months ago had there been additions of a bookshelf and a dresser. Duke flung open the door to the room with a smile painted over his face and gestured for Charlie to take a few steps inside. His suitcase landed on the bed as he passed it. His hands rested on it for a few seconds before he began flinging the clothes across the room towards the dresser.

"So you're going to be my new roommate for a while." Charlie turned towards Duke. "Or I am going to be your new roommate."

Duke forced a smile as he continued to watch Charlie unpack his only suitcase. His backpack was just as thick as his suitcase and filled with books and records. Though, he had no record player to play them on. Everything from Prince to Guns N Roses. Charlie placed them onto the desk with a smile as if they were his best friends and he hadn't seen them in a while. It was odd but Duke wasn't about to call Charlie weird for it. Duke was the one who didn't talk to the local children because he'd rather find tadpoles that were 'too icky' for him. Charlie turned back to Duke and gestured to them for Duke to flip through a few of them.

"You can take one and listen to them if you'd like." Charlie seemed so nonchalant about it. He flung the last of his clothes-all of them black in color-towards the dresser.

"Mom wouldn't like it if I listened to these. She says they're of the devil."

"So I bet she doesn't let you play one of these then, either." Duke turned to see what Charlie was talking about. He held up a Gameboy. Duke shook his head. "Well then, your parents really are no fun."

"Dinner!"

His mother's voice echoed down the hallway and towards the pair. He had lifted one to inspect it even further. Duke nearly dropped the record in that he had in his hands to the ground. Charlie jumped from his spot at the edge of the bed and crossed the room in a matter of milliseconds. He turned from the window with a speed that Duke had never seen. What? How did he move that fast? Duke had never seen someone move that fast before in his life. He didn't even think that it was possible.

"Come on, dinner is ready. Don't be late."

Duke moved towards his mother's voice. But Charlie wasn't behind him. Charlie did not leave his room. Duke didn't hear his footsteps behind him as Duke made his way into the dining room. He shrugged. Charlie would have to come out eventually since he would eventually get hungry. He would have to get hungry sometimes. Duke's mother sat down at the table after putting the finishing touches on the dinner table. The ham steamed as did the mashed potatoes and gravy. Duke didn't even think he heard his mother heat up the asparagus in the microwave. He guessed he was too busy talking to Charlie to hear anything else. He was just ready to eat but his mom outstretched his hand towards him. Duke took her hand without thinking. Now the real praying could begin. They all bowed their heads down in silent prayer.

"I knew he'd want to unpack." Duke's aunt rolled her eyes. "You'll have to excuse him. His manners have seemed to have evaded him as he's gotten older."

"He seems like a sweet enough kid. I wouldn't put it past him to just want to unpack and decompress from the car ride here."

Charlie's dad bowed his head over the food once more. His hands folded in front of him. His lips moved fast. Too fast for any

"He's definitely not sweet," Charlie's dad lifted his head from bowing it to pray over his meal since none of Duke's family had said the prayer out loud. They had all been distracted by conversation to do it. "You wanna know what the final straw was?"

"What was it?" Duke's father scooted towards the table and bowed his own head over his meal for a moment before digging in. "What are we getting into?"

"What?" Charlie's dad smiled. "The old ball and chain didn't tell you all about her nephew?"

Her nephew? Charlie was their nephew, his cousin. If his uncle was joking then Charlie certainly didn't pick up on it.

"So what did he do?" Duke's dad let out a sigh as he dug into the food and began passing it out to everyone. "What are we in for?

"He tried burning down the high school. He kept rambling on about how the students there were worthless and needed to die."

"Well, that doesn't seem so bad." Duke's mom chimed in.

"It's arson, Susan." Charlie's dad turned towards her. "He's also been investigated for kidnapping."

"Kidnapping too?" Duke's mom lifted her head. "You didn't tell me that he was being investigated for kidnapping!"

Duke wasn't as worried as his mother. Charlie was a good kid from what Duke had seen over the years. When it rained at King's Island the summer before Duke turned six, he had given Duke his jacket. He helped a young girl find her mother after she lost sight of her when she got off of the ride. There was no way that he had even been a person of interest in kidnapping cases.

"He was never charged and he was only a person of interest. You still have to take him. We're not bringing him back to town after he kicked up so much trouble there."

Charlie's father let his head fall and began making good on his food. The rest of dinner was silent. None of them spoke and the only noises were the forks and knives on the plates. Duke wasn't going to make much noise. He was ready to finish dinner and do whatever he wanted. His suit was now fitting too tight around his neck. Like it was strangling him. Charlie was a good person, he reminded himself. Charlie is a good person. He is not the reason those kids went missing.

Duke wandered back to the closed door about a dozen times between the end of dinner and now, as he walked to his bedroom. He had cleaned up the dishes and put them into the dishwasher for further cleaning. His parents and aunt and uncle had gone into the living to talk. He didn't care for his mother's gloating. He didn't care for his father's pride in his work. His aunt and uncle boasted about their own achievements as well as if none of them were proud of each other.

"Alright, I think we're going to head out. We don't want to be too tired when we go into work tomorrow." Duke's uncle's voice echoed down the hall. His figure appeared a few seconds later and waved at Duke in the hallway. "See you at Thanksgiving, Duke."

Did they make plans for Thanksgiving already? Duke waved back to his uncle with a smile. "See you then, Uncle Jim."

"See you at Thanksgiving, Charlie." Duke's aunt called down the hall.

Duke waved back at the two figures at the end of the hall before they disappeared into the front room near the front door. Charlie's own parents were now gone. Charlie would only have Duke's parents for the next few months. Duke's parents came back to the bathroom a few moments later and spent the next twenty minutes cleaning up before both their room and the bathroom light went dark. Duke went to his room but didn't feel the need to change just yet. He wanted to stay up a bit longer and changing into pajamas now meant that the day was over.

Duke turned around in his bedroom for a few moments. He waited until the snores of his parents echoed off of the bathroom walls back towards Duke's room. That's when Duke made his way to Charlie's room. He needed to know if Charlie was the one who had kidnapped those kids. If someone dangerous was living in his house. Duke raised a hand, ready to knock but the door swung open before he could even have the chance to open it himself. It was almost as if Charlie had known that he was there.

"What are you doing up so late?" Charlie asked as he leaned against the doorframe. His hair was now tied back into a ponytail and only his jeans remained. He smelled of something that Charlie could not place but had smelled many times before when passing by the bathroom stalls at school. Duke had immediately forgotten the questions he was going to ask Charlie. "Your parents went to bed like half an hour ago."

Even though it was later than Duke had stayed up on most nights reading books by flashlight or waiting long enough to sneak out of the house and look at the stars. Especially on the night before going back to school. It was only seven at night the light had faded more than Duke would have hoped. He was too scared to admit to anyone that he was still scared of the dark even though he was ten. Charlie's face was hidden mostly in shadows but Duke could still see the contours of his face. Here, he looked like one of the monsters that Duke had imagined crawling through his windows at night.

When Charlie stepped into the light of the hallway, Duke noticed how pale Charlie's skin had gotten. So pale that his white skin had seemed to turn grey. His lips had crusted over. His blue eyes had turned a deep shade of blue.

"I could ask you the same thing." Duke straightened his back as if that would make him taller.

"I was just about to go out for a walk. Do you want to come?"

Duke pondered on it for a minute. "Wouldn't mom and dad be mad at us? We're not supposed to be out past sunset."

"Well I'm going out," Charlie pushed past Duke and towards the front door. "Don't feel like you have to lie for me either."

Millie Report had been told to go straight home after Sunday school. That her babysitter would be waiting for her when she got home. Her parents left on a business trip Instead of picking her up all the way across town, they would just meet in the middle back at her house. After that, they would end up going to the local diner for a late dinner. Then she would be sent off to bed. She had told her parents that she was old enough to make it home. After all, she was nearly twelve years old. The town was small enough that she had eyes on her every time she passed a house and even a little bit past that.

Millie checked her County road J would soon turn into county road K. As soon as it became K, she would take an immediate right. That's what the piece of paper she had in her hands said. Even though she and her family walked to church and back every Sunday, she had never really paid attention to what kind of turns they made. She was always picking up rocks or sticks alongside the road and messing up her pastel-colored dresses. Don't you dare mess up another dress, Millie. Her mother's voice rang out in her head as she spotted another pretty rock on the ground. No. She would keep her dress clean. She would make sure that she could be seen as someone who could walk back home on her own.

The sun had already set behind Millie and the roads were getting darker behind her. The fall air whipped around her and she chastised herself for not bringing a jacket. Each footstep crunched underneath her. The gravel that her parents had told her had once made these roads had turned into dust after years and years of wear. But that was long before she had been born and long before her family had been born.

Millie kept walking on county road J for at least half a mile before someone else appeared in front of her. A dark figure that she had never seen before. She squinted into the distance and tried to make sense of what was right in front of her eyes. She paused in the middle of the road. Her eyes scanned the shadow for a moment before it eventually got close enough for her to see who it was. A young man who she had never seen before. Even in her twelve years of life, she had been introduced to every family that lived in the town. Every face had been burned into her nearly photogenic memory. Though, her way home evaded her every single time she tried to make the walk home alone. What a terrible memory she had then, she assumed.

The man-made his way towards her as if he were going to the church. Millie checked her watch. It was nearing seven at night and in the hour that it had taken her to get this close to home, she knew that it would be closed down by now. She cursed herself for staying back to help out the pastor clean up from the Sunday evening mass. Even if there weren't many children for her to help with Sunday school. A lot of people had already come and gone that morning when most of the town had service. But a lot of people came back just for the fun of it. Even if it was the same service as before.

His body was only lit up by a few lights that the townspeople had put out onto the road so that no one would end up in a ditch. His feet crunched the bits and pieces of old and dried-out wood that had covered the ground. Where could he have been going? He turned his attention to her, his face lit up in flickers by fire that had come out of his lighter. He turned his attention to Millie. His long, gangly face lit up just as much as the light that appeared to come from a lighter. She didn't get a good look at what he was wearing which wouldn't help her if he did anything suspicious.

"Well hello there." His smile had grown inhumanly large. He moved closer to her. His eyes flashed dangerously dark as he flicked the lighter off. "What's your name?"

"M-my name is Millie." Her name felt odd on her lips. She had rarely ever spoken it. Fear flushed her face. She shouldn't have given her name to a stranger."W-who are you?"

"Millie. I like that name."

The man flicked on the lighter once more.

"I asked you what your name was."

The lighter flicked off.

"The name is Charlie. But I ask the questions here."

"What do you...what do you want to ask me?" Millie's voice caught in her throat as she tried to keep her composure.

"Where you're going," Charlie said that in a more matter-of-fact tone than the tone of someone who was asking a question. "What you're doing out alone this late at night."

"I'm-I don't think I should answer any of your questions. My parents said not to speak to strangers."

"But we're not strangers." Charlie flicked on the lighter to show off his inhuman smile, now adorned with rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. Saliva dripped off of his teeth and onto his bottom lip. "We're friends."

"We-we're not friends." Millie took a few steps back. "I should get home."

"Oh no," Charlie dropped the lighter down to the ground. "You should come with me."

Millie tried going around him but he had wrapped around her quicker than she could get away. Her whole body shook as he held her close to his chest. His breath-warm, hot, and sticky-brushed against her neck. Each breath was deep and heavy. He hadn't even said a word before Millie decided that she needed to put up a fight. She kicked and screamed until her voice was raw and her legs were tired. Each kick only brought her closer to him and each scream only came to crush her lungs. Her screams echoed across the trees.

Finally, she dropped her attention down to the arms that restrained her. Her mouth opened and laid a bit down onto his arm. Charlie let out a roar. Millie sprinted off into the darkness. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way down to her house. The sound of her heart echoed down to her bones. Her whole body ached. Charlie's footsteps weren't far behind her.

"Don't you dare run from a friend." Charlie's voice was louder than thunder on a rainy night. "Don't you dare run from me."

The footsteps came closer and closer to Millie. Millie had nowhere to turn. Nowhere to hide. The open road is what faced both of them. Her attention was on the road ahead of her and not the road behind her. Nor the road below her. Her foot caught on a stick and she tumbled down into the earth. The dirt kicked up into her mouth. Charlie's hands wrapped around her and flipped her over. His teeth flashed in the moonlight. His face was long and garish. Millie's screams echoed throughout the night. His teeth sank into her neck.

"This morning is a sad day for Archbold Township as we are looking for one of our own. Millie Report has come up missing." The newscaster's perma-smile had faded. "She was last seen walking home from Sunday school at six last night. She took country road J home. She was seen in a yellow dress and a pair of white converse, freshly bought. The police have no main suspects right now but if you have any information on the whereabouts of Millie Report, please contact the police at the number below."

Duke's family always watched the morning news before they headed out for the day. During the week-only in the summer-Duke had to follow one of his parents to work. This week, he was going with his mom to her secretary job it was still too early for Duke to comprehend most of it. His backpack rested on the bench where his mom had put it the night previous. Duke flattened out his jeans a bit as he tried to wipe the sweat that had pooled on his hands. He knew Millie. She went to middle school but her younger sister was in the same class as Duke.

Charlie had been outside that night. Duke had seen him head out but he had never heard him come back inside so he had no idea how long Charlie had been out the previous night. He couldn't be the one who kidnapped Millie. He hadn't even been there a whole day. There is no way he would cause trouble that soon.

Charlie stumbled out of his room and into the living room. He wiped the sleep from his eyes. His jeans were covered in a maroon substance that only Duke noticed before Charlie rushed back to his room to change. His mother and father turned their faces towards the noise but didn't catch Charlie's form. Charlie came out a few moments later with a fresh set of clothes and a smile on his face.

"Neither of you are to leave this house until Millie Report is found, do you hear me?"

Charlie and Duke frantically nodded. Duke's mother turned back to the TV and wrung her hands in worry. Charlie turned towards Duke as he flashed him a deadly smile.

He bowed down to Duke's ear, "Maybe if you took the opportunity to come with me last night, Millie wouldn't have had to run away from me."

#short story #creative writing #short horror story #writblr #writeblr #writblur #author #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr

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alilbihh · 5 years

Text

hocus pocus — 2

masterlist previous part next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both.

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 7.2k

You don't really know how you got roped into this.

Maybe you hadn't. Maybe Namjoon drank a luck potion that day and managed to get through to you. Maybe he used one of his manipulative tactics on you that he seems to do to all his customers. ("Or maybe you're soft," you hear Namjoon say. You smack him upside the head).

But it's not all bad. His shop smells like sage and rosemary and butter cookies and something soft all around, so that the edges are safe enough to press against. You wonder if your own store smells this homey to other people.

The whole store is like a library. The walls can barely even be considered walls anymore, stacked from top to bottom with books - most with cracked spines, well-worn pages and a musty smell that spoke of ages long past. No low hanging vines or roses gossiping to the nearby hydrangeas and no Jungkook trotting around in oversized clothes.

There's none of that, but when you close your eyes you can almost feel a gentle breeze, the muted buzz of cicadas, a bird fluttering somewhere overhead, as if you hadn't stepped inside a building at all. Namjoon's store is a different kind of gentle. Like something wise hangs in the air, just out of reach.

There are random items scattered about, and you remember what Namjoon once told you. How his store is dedicated to the lost. Objects that they value most are scattered about neatly. There's an assortment of jewelry and photos and family heirlooms and paintings. You smile lightly at the wedding rings and grimace at the less than decent items. (There are more dildos than one would think).

Sometimes people wander inside without remembering what inclined them to do so, drawn to items they don't remember they'd lost and items they'd been searching their whole lives for. Objects appear without warning, waiting to be found by the lost. It's how Namjoon met Seokjin. It's how the two met the ginger cat that walked in one day and has been here so long Namjoon even named him.

("I say we call him Ginger." You'd suggested, your cheek pressed to their horribly uncomfortable couch, and you immediately feel claws digging into your back.

"The cat hates it," Seokjin says, popping a cheeto into his mouth with conviction.

Namjoon nods solemnly, "It is kind of a terrible name," he admits.

"OH!" You say with mock surprise, twisting your head like they do in those terrible horror movies just to glare at Namjoon. "What an interesting opinion, soundcloud user Runch Randa."

Seokjin cackles and the cat makes a strange choking sound, almost like it's laughing too. Namjoon's ears flush red.

The weight momentarily disappears from your back, only to reappear seconds later. "Oh, yep, that's a male alright."

"Jin-hyung!" Namjoon yelps, horrified, "You can't just- just do that without asking!"

"Joon, babe, it's a cat. I'll say please next time, okay?")

It was then decided that his name would be Kimbap. He's grown a bit chubbier than before, and you wonder what Seokjin has been feeding him for that to happen so quickly.

The silence reminds you of why you're here in the first place. ("I'm being used."

"NO you are NOT! Just- think of it as a favor to your old pal Namjoon."

"You're insufferable.")

You've mostly been idling around the counter so far, only helping the middle aged lady that had walked in a few hours back. She'd been drawn to a pair of old baby shoes. "I tried selling them once. My husband didn't let me." She smiled lightly, the shoes small and snug and delicate as they sat in the palm of her hands. "They've never been worn, after all."

She walked out without another word, and for a moment too long you wondered how brave Namjoon must be to hear these stories every day.

"Hello?" A tiny voice whispers, a lilting tone of wonder. You search around and spot the tip of a head by the edge of the counter, wild strands sticking out every which way. Leaning forward reveals a little girl just barely shorter than the counter, chubby cheeks and all as she makes grabby hands at you. "Are you a witch?" She asks with stars in her eyes.

"Why, yes I am!" You grin, and in a blink and a snap of your fingers the lights overhead turn off, the candles' flames flickering alight one by one. She stares on in wonder, mouth agape.

It's then you're reminded of your true reason of being here.

"Would you like your future told?"

To lie to children, that is.

You have no idea how to work this thing.

The crystal ball is perched on some sort of decorative table centerpiece that Namjoon likely found on Walmart, and if the crystal ball itself has any magical properties you certainly don't know how to make use of them. It's colored a charming, rustic gold that you're not sure whether is spray painted or natural but it's pretty all the same.

Nevertheless, making up people's futures has been fun. The cheery little werewolf girl is too energetic and will likely hurt herself in the near future if she's too careless. The human with the pigtails will find love soon in the most unconventional of places. The bratty fox hybrid boy that kicked your shin is straight up going to end up in jail (but will find someone to help him through his struggles, you added just for his parents not to potentially sue you).

Namjoon walks in at some point just as you're done performing a magic trick on a wide eyed boy that's no older than nine, the highest form of magic you can perform, most likely. He leaves with a skip in his step, little daisy tucked into his shirt pocket. Purity and innocence.

The real store owner watches the little boy leave softly before turning towards you with a raised brow.

"Namjoon, my man! Are you finally here to save me?" You cheer, clasping your hands together. The traitor in question pats your head softly, and you instantly deflate.

"Not yet, Y/n-ah, just here to get something." He says with his back turned to you, climbing the ladder on the wall in search of a book, much like Belle does in Beauty and the Beast. Namjoon is both the beauty and the beast, in this case. Your instincts tell you to run while his back is turned, but something tells you that you won't get too far before someone inevitably finds and snitches on you because you're surrounded by traitors.

"You came all this way to get a book?" You ask, stupefied.

"Spell book. I gotta be quick though, Jin-hyung says that I'm on bathroom cleaning duty if I don't hurry up."

You laugh at that, "You know he'll just find a way to make you clean the bathroom anyway, right?"

"Yeah. I hate him. He's the devil."

"He's your boyfriend."

He sighs, a fond thing. "Yeah." And that's that.

Kimbap climbs onto the counter with ease, despite how chunky he's gotten. You pat him solemnly as you glare at Namjoon with all your might.

"Mind telling me what you're doing that's important enough to have me be here, lying to innocent children?" You quip, looking away from your glaring to coo at Kimbap nuzzling into your hand.

"You're actually quite good at reading people. The ball does look like you don't know how to use it, though," he says as he pulls out a book that's so thick it's more of a dictionary than anything. "The ball is sad." He adds.

"The ball doesn't have feelings."

"It doesn't," Namjoon agrees as he slides down the ladder, and for a second you worry for his safety as his knees wobble when he reaches the ground, book safely in hand. "It's not the ball that has magic. It's the air that does. Everything that does. The world is magical, holds more magic than you'd think, you just have to be the one to look for it. The ball is more of a handy tool." He grins and for a second he looks too wise. Too grown. Something about his tone makes you feel like he knows more than he's letting on. It makes you feel small.

"You wanna take a peek into my future, then?" You ask, and you're answered by a pair of knee-deep dimples.

"Can't. Tried once, unintentionally. The memories are all fuzzy." He looks a bit too happy as he says it. A little too fond.

"What does that mean?"

He pats your head again as he leaves, answers over his shoulder, "It means I'm in your future." The muted buzz of cicadas and fluttering of birds and the gentle breeze are ever so present as Namjoon opens the glass doors, steps into the outside. "Your future is awfully warm, though," he adds right before leaving, right before he trips over the doorstep and nearly falls face first into the concrete. He rights himself, stepping out calmly as if it never happened. You're too bewildered to laugh.

"I think it was destiny? Like, it wasn't my lack of housing options that brought us together. I think Y/n's, like, my soul-roommate."

Bright robes rustle as Seokjin props his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his hand with a sigh. Jungkook flinches when the older male's too-large wings skim at the edge of a nearby bookshelf, and it rocks back and forth for a second too long before regaining its balance. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jungkook takes a good look at his very much angelic friend, the man in question squinting his eyes suspiciously at him.

"So you mean your soulmate?" He says, voice flat, eyes narrowed.

"No, hyung," Jungkook exasperates, "My soul-roommate. As in, I wanna be her roommate forever."

Seokjin squints. Downs his glass of water as if it were vodka.

Now, Seokjin could tell it like it is right now and rid Jungkook of his stress like wringing out a washcloth, fast and easy and with little repercussions. But Seokjin will not. Seokjin will let this drag on until the man figures out what do himself.

This isn't the kind of decision he can make, anyway. "Alright. That's nice, Jungkook-ah."

"Yeah! Yeah. It is." Jungkook picks up a broom Seokjin's wings had knocked over, apologizes quietly to it before placing it back against the wall.

The angel drums his hands on the wooden counter, looking up in thought. "And what about that Jimin fellow?"

Jungkook trips over his own feet on his way to the tray of crystals, and the older laughs almost maniacally at him. "What about him?" Jungkook slurs.

"Nothing, nothing, I've seen enough." He says with a laugh, wings fluttering in delight with a mind of their own.

Jungkook huffs indignantly, reaches for a nearby crystal colored a soft purple, begins polishing it aggressively with his apron. It warms in his palm, like it's been resting near a fire.

"Who's that?" Jungkook's ears perk at Jin's soft exclamation, and he looks out the window curiously.

There's a deer hybrid by the door.

The buck looks through the glass with an almost childlike curiosity, eyes lighting up like a fire. Something inclines him to walk in like it does with every customer, so he does; bending a bit so his antlers fit through the door frame, and Jungkook can't help but consider the gesture to be the most adorable thing.

The boy's sneakers squick, squeak, squish as he steps further into the building, marveling at the tiny expanse of the shop Jungkook considers his home. A lone bulb hangs by the shelves of poetry, its glow muted until the boy steps in to read some of the spine titles. Jungkook can't help but feel like the room has gotten a tad bit warmer, a tad bit brighter.

The werewolf watches the hybrid pad towards the tray of crystals. Some of them are raw and jagged and the size of his palm; others are smooth and fitting enough to be made into a necklace, maybe even a pair of earrings. The boy reaches for a purple one buffed into an oval, marvels at it before pressing it to his chest.

"Do you like purple?" Jungkook asks once he gets close, laughs as the boy jumps. He continues, "Amethyst. It's pretty. It cleanses one's energy field of negative influences and is known to relieve stress and dispel anger, fear, and anxiety. Also alleviates sadness."

The hybrid stares at him. The hybrid stares at him because there's a werewolf talking about energy as if it's a tangible thing and telling him rocks have magical properties. "Rocks can't do that."

"Hey!" Jungkook yelps, grabs at a nearby rock, holds it close to his chest, "You can't call them rocks. They're crystals, crystals."

"Oh." the buck blinks once, twice. He stares at the not-rock in his hand. Pats it a little bit. "Sorry."

"s'okay."

The boy looks small tucked into his jacket like that, and Jungkook watches as he fiddles with the zipper a bit, holds it between his fingers. "You work here?" The boy asks as softly as a voice can get, walking past a lamp that warms to life beside him.

"Yeah- yeah! I do. Work here, that is." Jungkook replies, just as soft, working at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. The boy's gaze is so so warm. Something urges Jungkook to shift his gaze to the ground and the other can't look away.

Jungkook laughs lightly as the boy sneezes suddenly, sniffles and rubs at his nose. "Is it the smell? It's quite a lot, isn't it? It messed with me in the beginning, too." He adds, tone a little too fond.

"Ah, yeah, I guess. Smells strong here, but, like. Nice." The boy says, steps in close to a vase filled with orchids and lilies and peonies and gardenias; femininity, purity, love, trust. He feels as a leaf curls around his outstretched finger like it's inviting him closer, welcoming him home. And he laughs, softly, like he can hear the flowers' hushed whispers.

"What do you think flowers talk about?" He mutters, and Jungkook almost flusters at the low rasp of his voice. Daegu, it comes to the werewolf all at once. Daegu boy. Jungkook's struck with the thought that he's never been to Daegu but it kinda already feels like home.

"Uh. I don't know. I've done some embarrassing things in front of them, so. Probably that."

The other laughs, movements syrupy slow as he stands up straight, antlers towering over the werewolf's form. Jungkook kinda wants to touch it. Kinda wants to touch all of him. Kinda wants to drown himself in the other's voice, the rough low of it, kinda wants to get his lips sticky with it. "Looks like they like you, though," he adds.

"I guess I'm just too charming, huh?" The boy says and then does something incredible. Something so mind boggling and out of place and so so endearing it has Jungkook's heart do something uncertain in his chest; an inverted beat, everything backwards, all the blood pumping the wrong way.

The boy winks.

Oh no.

Jungkook makes a weird noise from the back of his throat and he guesses there's something on his face because in just a second the boy laughs, laughs so hard it's like his heart is trying to crawl its way out his chest, like it's too big for him to hold on his own. It's beautiful. Jungkook wants to live in that sound, listen to it for hours on repeat like a broken radio.

It seems that's when the magic breaks because the boy remembers he's here to do business and takes notice of the weight in his hand, looks down at the crystal in his palm. "How much is this?"

Jungkook blinks. "Oh. I don't know. Y/n's responsible for that kinda stuff." He suddenly smiles, cheekily adding, "guess it's free!"

A laugh tumbles out the boys' lips, big and unreserved. Jungkook thinks he's just like that. Open and honest, easily able to light up a room with just a smile. "I can't just take it for free," he says as he places it back on the tray where he'd taken it.

"Sure you can! I'm encouraging it!"

The boy shakes his head, gaze flickering back to the crystal on the tray. He remembers how warm it felt on his palm, fitting like it belonged.

"Can crystals really heal you?" He asks, looking at the werewolf from beneath his lashes. He continues and the words don't feel like they're his, like someone's plucking them from out of him, "It just. Doesn't make sense. For it to be that easy, I mean."

Jungkook smiles and it melts the boy down to his bones. The younger boy picks up the crystal, tap tap taps at it like it'll give him the answers he needs. Offers it with an outstretched hand and a knowing smile. "They can heal you if you believe they can." Jungkook rolls his eyes with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Just take it, you nerd."

Daegu boy bites his lips cherry red. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," Taehyung's so close Jungkook can see flecks of gold in his eyes, like leftover traces of the sun. He takes the crystal. And then in a blink he's gone, hands in his pockets as he trudges back out the way he came, "I'm Taehyung, by the way!"

"I'm Jungkook!" A goofy smile and a silly wave. The boy waves back. Ends up hitting his antlers on the doorway, backtracks with his head clutched in hands, and Jungkook openly laughs.

The boy leaves and the werewolf is struck with the thought that maybe he falls in love way too easily.

Something about today feels slightly off and you have no idea what it is.

Maybe it's just the lumpiness of the bed. Not the actual bed, just the jacket Jungkook had left laying around that's currently digging into your back as you lay lifelessly on your bed. You think you're having a crisis, a midlife crisis at the peak of your adulthood. And that's cool. That's fine. Totally normal and not at all disconcerting.

You feel a shadow tower over your body, and you peel open an eye to spot the very familiar that's causing your back such anguish, his brow cocked with purpose. "Why do you look like that?"

"huh?" you hum, and you think you're blinking but it's like someone is doing it for you, like you're drifting in and out of consciousness. "Look like what?"

He snorts like the answer is obvious, and it probably is. "Like someone just told you your ass is flat."

"That is rude and I am offended." You say without a hint of anger in your voice, and you briefly think of how that's probably your normal tone with Jungkook. Kinda soft and kinda playful and a fondness hidden just under your tongue, trying to wriggle its way out.

Jungkook says something akin to noona, do you want me to tie your hair for you? and noona, are you going to hyung's party? and noona, did you brush your teeth today? all at once, and at first you're mildly offended at the last one before you swipe your tongue over the front of your teeth and realize you haven't.

Then his words somewhat catch up to you and your brows furrow in question, "What party?"

"Ah. Namjoon-hyung's and Seokjin-hyung's. Something about an anniversary of theirs, but it's been less than a year? So I don't really know what they're celebrating? I think it's a pre-one-year-anniversary-party. Which is stupid because why don't they just celebrate it when it's actually been a year? I don't know. It's kinda wild."

You laugh at that, sitting up groggily and it's then that your familiar releases a little shriek, "Yikes! Do you want me to hire an exorcist? I think there's, like, three of them just around the block, I can run and get them for you!"

Your feet pad over the somewhat cold floor, and you slap the man's chest as you pass him by, his laughter following you on your way to the bathroom, and you can hear his tail bumping wildly against the wall as it wags carelessly.

At some point while you're brushing your teeth Jungkook pads lightly beside you, joining you with a toothbrush of his own. You're both staring at each other from your reflections in the mirror and you try to give him a smile but it results in toothpaste dribbling down your chin and Jungkook laughs so hard he spits a bit on the mirror.

Some odd sense of peace engulfs you then and it feels oddly dreamy, like an early morning breeze. Jungkook opens the windows to let some fresh air in while he makes sleepy sounds and you just kind of sit there, looking but not seeing, thinking of nothing and everything.

It's an early friday and the shop won't open for another two days so you have nothing to do but you feel like you do. You think it's the stress getting to you but you're not sure if that's it. You wonder if maybe Namjoon's psychic powers are contagious and your third eye has opened without your knowledge.

You watch as Jungkook pads over to your shared kitchen; the one that doesn't have your cauldron and your stove and your potions like the one just downstairs by the shop does. In fact, this one doesn't have a stove at all. Sometimes Jungkook walks all the way down to the other kitchen just to make proper food because it's not like you have the money to buy another stove, anyway. ("Jungkook we don't have a stove how are you going to make chicken nuggets?"

"But I have a lighter and determination."

"This is a bad idea and you're going to regret it.")

(He regretted it.)

Actually, you're not quite sure when Jungkook started living here. You can barely even remember how it was before Jungkook, when it was just you living alone in the apartment right above your dainty little shop, and now you can't imagine waking up without his sleepy sounds and your playful banter. It feels surreal. You wonder if it will last. You want to wish that it will, but you wonder if it's selfish.

You come to at the tragic sight of the familiar in question aggressively pouring cereal into his bowl, the milk already inside splashing around in waves. You sigh and stand up, the couch beneath you squeaking in protest.

Jungkook smiles as you come to a stop beside him. "G'morning," he says so so softly, like it's the first time he sees you- pretty little grin, pretty little curve to his lips.

"hi." you say, just as soft. This is nice. Everything is nice and smells and feels like Jungkook; solid. Safe. A comfort.

"You wanna watch Your Name?" he asks suddenly into the open air, and you laugh quietly at his determined eyes.

"That's like your de-stressing mechanism."

"Hey, it's valid."

And so it's a quiet friday morning. Jungkook has Kiki's Delivery Service queued and he's hoping there will be time to watch Ponyo like he's wanted to for so long and the afternoon will pass by like that, the two of you sitting around and watching movies and nature documentaries and tossing popcorn kernels at each other- sometimes with purpose, other times without.

Jungkook speaks up somewhere between shrimps being able to see colors we don't even know exist and lizards literally shooting blood out their eyes, and you turn away from the nature documentary to face him, "So are you going to that party? Jin-hyung said there'll be cake and mario kart and many people and stuff." He says before stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You blink for a few seconds in thought because yes yes yes but no no no. Yes because you love your friends and you love being able to see them happy and you love seeing Namjoon lose to Jin at mario kart for the umpteenth time. But no because the last time you met a new person you almost fell in love with them so no, you will not be meeting anyone new for a while.

(Well, maybe not necessarily in love, you tell yourself. That seems excessive. More like a maybe-love. More like a I could love you, if you let me).

"I'll think about it," you lie through your teeth, and the werewolf pretends to be convinced as he flashes you a little smile that's knowing in a way that makes you feel a bit small.

"Okay," he says, shrugs, turns back to the TV that's now saying something about dolphins being insomniacs but you're too caught up in your familiar's nonchalance to pay any attention to it.

The couch is a lumpy disaster. A huge mistake. Possibly the biggest one of your life. You kinda wish couches had never been born as you try for the fifth time to adjust your legs only to fail miserably, settling for fiddling with your glass.

This is downright blasphemy. Outrageous. You don't know how you got here or what's happening, but Jungkook disappeared somewhere in the crowd and Jin is, as expected, beating some poor person's ass at mario kart, and Hoseok and Yoongi are getting a bit too intimate by the sugar cookie icing, and you think the punch you're drinking has more alcohol than you were accounting for.

You think you should chew the gummy worms that are mixed into the punch better because there are more than a few instances in which you forget they're in there and end up choking on them. But it's fine because the home you're in smells like scorched firewood and maple syrup and Kimbap is sitting beside you on the couch, dressed very politely and with a little bow tie tied to his collar.

You'd tried to get up once, tried to face the crowd. Tried to face Jungkook's admittedly inevitable betrayal. There were plenty of faces you recognized, some you didn't, and at some point you were trying to push through the people cheering for Seokjin when your hand brushed over someone's chest; pecs. Pecs means Jungkook.

He took one look at your face and quite literally dived and disappeared into the crowd to avoid your glare, and you pretend he's escaped your grasp even when you see his bumbling form run into the kitchen three seconds later.

So here you are, back on the lumpy, overused couch of the infamous fiends that are Namjoon and Seokjin, petting their cat. Kimbap is a funny fellow. Always with his head held high, confident as he strides from one corner to the next and paws at your ankles for attention. You strive to be Kimbap.

"You have a good life," you say to the cat, petting lazily at his head. "Eat, sleep, some adventure, more sleeping, definitely more eating. You don't have to worry about love or being alone or - or rent."

Kimbap blinks, one eye then the other. Yawns. Promptly whacks the middle of your face with the tip of his tail. "Fucking punk," you mutter.

So you're at a party. You're never usually at parties, but the owners of the distasteful couch will have been together for one year as of three months from now, and you don't know why they don't just celebrate it three months from now when it's actually been a year, but the punch tastes bad enough to be considered good and Kimbap is nice enough company and everyone's having fun so you don't mind much.

"Why, hello there." A voice says from above you, and your shoulders stiffen and your grasp on the punch cup tightens.

You look up and it's Jimin. Jimin, the vampire. Jimin, Jungkook's crush. Jimin, a Raphaelite painting come to life, dark pants and a shirt with so many buttons undone it can't even be considered a shirt, more like a suggestion of one.

He plops on the couch beside you just as Kimbap scrambles away- another traitor- and you look away from his collarbones to see the boy grinning, openly and unabashedly, fangs and all. He's definitely not alcohol drunk. He's drunk off something a little more intangible, maybe.

"Look," he mutters but you're already looking. At his eyes and his hands and his stupid eyelashes. Spider-leg long eyelashes. No one should feel this overwhelmed by eyelashes.

Jimin takes one look at you and promptly swallows his glass of vodka as if it were water. You think he's smiling when he turns to look at you again but you're looking at the ground, sinking deeper into the couch - cheeks aflame, human fondue. You think you can become one with the couch. Maybe it's not that bad. You pat it fondly.

The vampire laughs with his whole body, doubling over, almost toppling off the couch. Your breath hitches a bit but you try not to think too much about it. Try not to think about anything, really.

"The punch is good," you say lamely.

"No it isn't."

"No, it isn't." you agree, then down the punch in one go. You slam the empty glass on the armrest and feel your face contort with so much adamant disgust that Jimin laughs fully, and the sound is beautiful and incredibly - Jimin, you not-think.

You're still Not Thinking. It's actually amazing how much you're Not Thinking, you not-think. It's amazing what the human brain can do once you set your mind to it. There's so many things you're not thinking about! You're not thinking about how Jimin shuffles the tiniest bit closer to you, or how he leans into you fully when he laughs, or how he lights up the room with his laugh alone.

It's kind of a blur what happened after that. Jimin started talking about how kiwi is the worst of all fruits, and the conversation somehow diverts into the plot holes and the fall of capitalism, and then somehow- somehow- into slang terms for penis. ("I'm just saying that if someone were to approach me and tell me their wang is hard again I can and will block them from my life," he says with so much open hate it has you choking on a laugh).

You learn he volunteers at a nearby shelter.

You learn he, for some reason, thinks the O blood type is an actual abomination and should be burned for its sins. ("Nothing against people with O blood types, though, I'm sure they're lovely!" he makes sure to add.)

You learn he's been convinced by outside sources that Tony Stark is a raging feminist.

You learn he's beautiful and lovely and sometimes, when the light hits him just right, you can see flecks of red in his eyes.

Talking with Jimin is easy, really easy. You love words, but sometimes they're easier to say than others. You're surprised how easy they were to come out, how easy they were to say. You thought you would whisper them or they would get stuck in your throat. You thought you would slur them together or fracture them into too many. But with Jimin it's just easy, always so easy, he's always so patient and willing to listen.

Jimin is so tender, so pretty, lighting up a room without even realizing it. He's so bright. Bright enough for you to think this, this. This is why Jungkook likes him so much, and it's then that you slump backwards and every previously undiscovered lump reintroduces themselves to your butt. You were wrong, you take it back - the couch fucking sucks.

At some point it becomes so bright you had to excuse yourself, had to hide and curl in the nearest bathroom.

You're curled up in yourself on the toilet seat when a voice in your head tells you that you can't stay here forever. You have an assignment due monday. Jungkook will probably give out all the shop's products for free and adopt three more goldfish and a hamster and a golden retriever completely on impulse. Kimbap will probably miss you. Or not. Many times you don't know if he likes you or if he uses you for food and pats.

After a moment or two you stand up, fake a flush. Wash your hands, dry them. Dab some cold water on your neck. Wash your hands again. Dab some more water on the back of your neck, your forehead, your chest - anything to cool down. Wrists? Knees? Jungkook always puts some cologne there because of heat glands or something, but you're not sure if that has anything to do with him being a werewolf.

When you walk out it's with a confidence that you most certainly don't have, and you pretend you didn't just almost have a mental breakdown in the bathroom of your friend's almost-anniversary party as you walk back to the lumpy couch. Only this time it's not just Jimin.

This time it's Jimin talking so so tenderly to the boy next to him, little giggles spilling from his lips as he whispers into his ear, throwing himself onto the boy's shoulder and smiles at him with so much open adoration that your chest kinda ached a bit.

And it's not Jungkook like you expected - no. It's a boy. The boy. Honey boy. The boy that takes trains early in the morning and loves the ocean and loves his family before anything else. A split second and the boy smiles and then you know, you know it's the boy and not some sort of fever dream, some sort of hunger confusing your eyes and your brain and your heart. A smile all mirth and joy, one you think can't quite get captured right in a photograph. Boxy and bold and wild.

You turn back the way you came from and you think you hear someone calling after you but your brain is too hazy to make out what was said at all. You look around frantically for Jungkook, find him still hanging by the kitchen, drunk off the punch gummy worms and trying to pour some more into his cup but spilling half of it onto the kitchen counter.

"I'm leaving." You say to him, just to let him know, not because you expect him to follow you but because you expect him to worry when he searches and can't find you. You turn with the intention of leaving and he gently grabs your wrist, and you see something in his eyes - hazy and dreamy with alcohol and confusion and something else.

"Why? What's wrong? Did something happen?" He asks, tugs you forward gently to bring you closer, voice not reaching beyond a whisper, soft all around the edges.

"No no, nothing happened, please don't worry." You say, try to pry him off you just as gently, but he remains firm as he looks around for the potential threat that doesn't exist - doesn't exist, because you're making a big deal out of nothing, you know you are.

Because the boy you're already in love with is off limits and the two boys you just might have been almost in love with are together and you're a fool. The biggest fool. The biggest fool because you've almost just fallen for not one, not two, but three people, three people that are not at all interested, and you think there's something wrong with you that you're not quite ready to deal with just yet.

You look up and you see his jaw tighten, something akin to anger flicker in his eyes and no- no no no, you didn't mean for this to happen, didn't mean to ruin his night. "I'm going home, please don't worry about me and have fun. Please?"

He releases a breath and looks back down at you, expression softening so much it melts you down to your bones. "I won't let you go home like this. Let me walk you?"

You want to say no, want to let him have his fun, but he's looking at you with such quiet determination and you're just so, so tired. "okay," you say breathlessly.

You make sure to say goodbye to everyone before you leave, patting Namjoon extra hard on the back so that he stumbles forward with an oof. Jungkook's hand is on your back the whole time, a quiet reassurance.

You think you've done a pretty good job at avoiding them. It's kinda hard with Jungkook, since you live with him and all, but you try to eat your meals at separate times and avoid looking him in the eye when he gets too close. You take train rides at night now, just in case, try not to look at the ocean when you pass it by. Flinch so hard when you passed by an animal shelter that a kind old lady actually stopped to ask if you were okay.

There's kind of a box in your chest. It stores all the unwanted feelings, keeps them all at bay. But sometimes the box breaks. Breaks when you need it intact the most. Your box is crumpled, old, tearing at the seams, little bits and pieces spilling bit by bit until the day comes when they break out all at once, and you think the day gets closer the more you deal with things alone.

You think the day is today as a boy comes flying through the door, clothes and hair disheveled, and you think you look more than a bit petrified as the vampire you'd been avoiding for a few weeks launches towards you, smacks a few crumpled bills onto the counter.

"How do I say fuck you in flower?" He says, something wild threatening to tumble out of his chest as he inhales a shaky breath, and you scramble to gather the flowers for the bouquet, despite the oddity of the request.

Carnation, foxglove, meadowsweet; disdain, insincerity, uselessness. You add a daffodil in there just for the heck of it - new beginnings. Which is ironic, coming from you.

He watches as you tie the bouquet together, and there's something gentle about his gaze despite the fact your heart is threatening to tumble out of your chest and he looked seriously intimidating, like, two seconds ago.

You hand the bouquet over after tying a bow around its end and he takes it with a smile, walking out the door without even bothering to wait for his change. There's silence for a moment. Nothing. Then he walks right back in, bouquet still in hand, places it back on the counter and pushes it closer to you. You stare, stunned.

You make a weird noise and you think you've just keyboard smashed in real life because that's when Jimin loses all composure, laughing joyfully and clutching at his stomach.

"It's- for you," he says after a moment, gaze flickering from you to the bouquet then back to you then back to the bouquet.

"What did I do?" You ask but you know what you did. You straight up ran away from him. Straight up told him you were coming back and then you just didn't. Kinda ditched him there on the lumpiness of the couch, but you didn't think he would notice, didn't think he would remember anything that isn't related to honey boy - not that you'd blame him.

Jimin looks at you knowingly. You manage to hold his gaze for less than a second before looking down at your shoes.

"Do you wanna have dinner with us?" He's drawling. You think it's a nervous tic. "Me. Taehyung. Jungkook, too, if he wants." He says and looks at the door behind you, as if waiting for Jungkook to walk through it.

Ah, you think, mustering up a smile, so his name is Taehyung. "Taehyung," you say, testing how it sounds on your tongue.

"Yeah," he smiles something a little too fond, a little too endeared. "Taehyung."

"But- Me?" You fold your arms, shift on your feet, uncertainty lacing your every word, "You want me to go, too?"

Jimin looks a little too confused, a crease between his brows. The crease goes soft when he smiles or feigns surprise, but it never quite mushes away. You kinda wanna kiss him there one day.

"Of course I do. Why would I not?" A sludge that had been spreading through your insides seems to evaporate the tiniest bit at that, and you can almost feel your heart melting out of your chest, dripping over your ribs like cheese fondue.

"Oh," you mutter, and that's that.

Jimin smiles again and you wonder how he does it, how he manages to smile so much, if he ever gets tired of it. He fishes through his pocket for a moment, pulls out his phone. "Let's exchange numbers, yeah?"

And so you do. In complete silence. Please tell me what to say, you beg your shit brain, but it just continues the mantra of curse words on repeat. It's sunny and he's close to the window where the roses are giggling under their breaths, where the light is hitting him in all the right ways.

"What, no tips?" You ask the boy's back as he leaves, bouquet in hand and carrying it all too delicately, like someone who has a lot of love in his heart, and he's laughing over his shoulder as he opens the door.

"I gave you one last time!"

"That's not how it works!" You yell but he's already gone, leaving a trail of giggles in his wake.

"Are you serious? They invited us over for dinner?"

"Yeah," you say as you pick up a box with a huff, softening as Jungkook runs over to grab it from you. You mutter a thank you before continuing, "Is it that hard to believe?"

"Kinda!" He huffs but you're almost sure it's from mock anger than it is from carrying heavy boxes around, "We're going, right?"

"I don't know.." Your familiar gasps a bit too dramatically as he sets the box down on the counter.

"Noona, I'm pretty sure there's a law that states that you have to go to dinner when two attractive men ask you to."

"Source."

"Namjoon is the smartest person in the world and he confirms this."

"I confirm this." You jump as the man in question pops up behind you, and you have no idea how and when he got here.

You groan. "Fine."

Jungkook whoops loudly and Namjoon, despite not really knowing what's going on, joins in with the same amount of enthusiasm. It's incredibly endearing and you hate both of them.

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inorganicone2230 · 4 years

Text

All That Led Us Here (Part 1) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Orphaned at the tender age of six, you are taken in and raised by The Head of The Shie Hassaikai along with his young son, Kai, who takes a strange and immediate interest in you, to an obsessive degree... one that only seems to grow as the years go by. A life with him and The Yakuza is all you've ever known, but is it all you really want? Kai would certainly have you believe so, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never question it.

Warnings: None for this chapter, in fact, the first few will be relatively tame as we build up to the darker chapters later on, but I will make note of them as they pop up per chapter.

Side Note’s: Just a few quick things to help give you an idea as to how this AU’s world is set up. So first off, there are no quirks in this world, so that means that the Yakuza clans are still strong, wealthy and a huge influence in the Japanese underworld, unlike in the cannon version, and the Shie Hassaikai are one of the biggest if not THE biggest. Second, Kai is The Big Bosses biological son and not just some street rat that he took in. Since we never actually learn the old guys name, I figure that it can easily be played around with to suit the needs of this story and Kai’s looks can be explained by saying that he takes after his deceased mom. And finally, Eri will NOT be making an appearance in this story as of yet.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn't for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME!

Kai could still remember the first day he met you, no matter how much time passed or how many years flew by, that day was always going to be crystal clear in his mind.

It was the middle of a sweltering hot summer and his father, the head of the notorious Yakuza clan, The Shie Hassaikai, had received a call from an old friend asking him to come visit him on his deathbed in a nearby town. His father had immediately left, but returned just a few days later.

Only, he wasn’t alone when he came back…

It was already early evening when Kai, who was ten at that point, heard the commotion coming from downstairs and had gone outside with all the others to greet his father when he arrived home and was just as shocked, though he hid it very well, as everyone else to see that he had a little girl no older than six with him.

A tiny little thing wearing a purple sundress and hiding behind his father’s legs while she trembled like a leaf. She was so small that, if it weren’t for the quiet little whimpers coming from her, she may have gone completely unnoticed and Kai couldn’t help but idly wonder who she was and what she was doing with his father.

“Kai?” His father had called out to him once he was spotted by the gate. “Come over here Son, there’s someone you need to meet.”

Kai, being the well behaved and dutiful son that he was, immediately went to his father. He couldn’t deny that he was curious as to who the little girl was and even a stoic child like him was still prone to childlike tendencies every now and then.

“What is it Pops?” He asked, his voice already showing signs of deepening despite his young age. And since he had recently hit a growth spurt, he was easily a good foot or so taller than the little girl currently clinging to his father’s hakama.

His father stepped aside to reveal the child to him in full as he gazed down at her with a look of of care and pity. “Kai, this is (Y/N), she’s the daughter of a dear old friend of mine who recently passed away and she’s going to be living with us from now on.” His father reached down to pat you on the head and Kai knew from experience just how comforting that hand could be in a stressful situation, though he’d likely choke on those words if he ever tried to admit them out loud. “She’s family now, so I want you to look out for her. Ya hear me boy?”

Kai had nodded in agreement without a moment's hesitation, he was always eager to please his father no matter what the task was, though, to be honest, Kai had no real experience dealing with kids his own age, let alone one so much younger than himself. He tended to avoid the idiots at his school, they were always running around, getting filthy and he wanted no part in that, and it’s not like there were any other kids that lived in the compound for him to interact with. Hell, there hadn’t even been a woman living there since his mother died nearly eight years prior.

Kai snapped himself out of his own thoughts when he heard his father speak again, seems he wasn’t done talking just yet.

Kai watched as his father gave you another pat on the head as this time, he addressed you directly, his voice much softer and kinder than Kai could ever remember it being. Perhaps it was because you were a girl, or maybe it was because he felt sorry for the situation you were in, your father had just died after all. Either way, this was a side to his old man that he only ever saw when he talked about his late wife, so this was a rather surreal experience for the young boy.

“(Y/N), this brat here is my son, Kai.” He said, motioning his head towards the golden eyed boy. “If you need anything at all and you can’t find me, I want you to go straight to him, alright? This is going to be your home from now on and that means that you can just think of him as your big brother if that makes it easier.”

You had been looking at the ground for the majority of the time, but when you briefly glanced up to meet his gaze, Kai couldn’t help but feel drawn to the big (e/c) eyes that seemed to take up the majority of your chubby little face. They were wide and full of fear, but also a great deal of curiosity as you took in your new surroundings.

You gave him a small, barely there nod of your head as you mumble out a quick response, your voice just as tiny as you were in stature. “N-Nice to m-meet you Kai-san. I’ll try n-not to be a b-bother for you.” And then your eyes are back on the ground and Kai is left with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he uncharacteristically thinks that he wants you to look at him again, and for longer this time.

The old boss tries to muster up a weak smile in the hopes that it will put you at ease. “I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine once you get used to each other. Now, why don’t we go have some dinner and then get you off to bed? It’s been a long few days and I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better in the morning.”

With affirmative nods from both children, nothing more is said as everyone is urged to get back to their usual duties despite talk over who the unexpected new addition to the household is and where she came from.

—————

Later on that night, after a quiet dinner was shared amongst the three, Kai went off back to his room and quietly continued to work on his summer homework. Pops was insistent that he keep up his grades, inciting that just because he was set to inherit the role as head of a mob family, that didn’t mean that he was allowed to be an ignorant fool with no brains to back himself up, and Kai was inclined to agree, there was only one thing he hated more than filth and that was stupidity and a general lack of common sense.

Tonight however, this usually easy task was proving to be just a tad bit harder to stay focused on.

The main reason?

He can hear your soft cries from down the hall in your new room and it’s proving to be rather distracting. Not that you were being overly loud, but thin walls and shoji screen doors don’t provide much in the way of soundproofing or insulation. And with the two of you bring the only ones living on this floor, his old man's room being situated one floor above and everyone else further down, it was even more quiet than a normal house.

Without really stopping to think about what he was doing, Kai got up from his desk and left his room to wander down the hall until he found himself quietly standing outside your door. He debated with himself for about thirty seconds before he made the abrupt decision to just open the door uninvited.

There you were, curled up on an unfamiliar bed that was definitely way too big for someone so tiny, your shoulders shaking even as your head shot up at the sudden sound of sliding wood and big fat crocodile tears continued to roll silently down your cheeks.

“U-Um… w-what are-”

“You’ve been crying.” Kai interrupted you.

You looked down, he really wished you’d stop doing that, almost as if you were ashamed to have it pointed out so bluntly.

“I’m so-sorry, I w-won’t do it a-again, I pro-promise.” You managed to get out between more sniffles.

Kai normally hated the sound of crying, it was like nails on a chalkboard to him and he attributed it to weakness, yet another thing that he so deeply detested. But, he supposed that given the events you had likely been subjected to over the course of the last few days, your blatant display of emotion was understandable, if not outright expected of you.

And besides, he thought, he knew what it was like to lose a parent, but he still had his old man at least, that was more than could be said for you, you didn’t have anyone.

No one but him and Pops…

Kai wouldn’t be able to properly articulate to himself what it really was, not until he was older and understood himself a bit better, but he felt an odd sensation swell up in his chest at the thought of you relying on him, of you needing him, he liked the idea of you staring up at him with those big watery eyes and asking him for help, begging him to make the hurt go away.

But more than that, he wanted to be the reason you smiled. He had yet to see a smile grace your face, but he knew that he wanted to be it’s cause when it did finally happen, or at the very least, he wanted to be the first one to see it.

It was a strange feeling, and not one he was at all used to, but Kai was a pragmatic child and rarely ever second guessed himself once his mind had settled on an idea. His father often told him that if he continued to cultivate that trait, it would make him an even better boss than him someday.

And to that end, he did what his father would expect of him…

“Do you… want me to stay with you, until you fall asleep?”

The two of you stared at each other for roughly a minute before you mutely nodded your head and Kai silently made his way over to your bed, easily climbing onto the tall mattress and sitting upright against the headboard while you laid your head back down on the pillow.

Kai never took his eyes off your face.

“Thank you Kai.” You mumbled sleepily, your swollen, puffy eyes already drooping as sleep threatened to finally claim you.

He wasn’t really great at comforting others, not that he had ever tried, so he acted on pure instinct, reaching out and taking your tiny hand in his own and closing his fist around it, an act that both shocked and astounded him, though he never let go of your hand regardless of that.

It had been so long since he had touched anyone else that he’d almost forgotten what another person’s skin could feel like and despite his steadily growing aversion to physical contact, he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of disgust when he felt your skin against his own. In fact, it was no different than if he was reaching up to touch the flesh of his own face.

Kai knew that this had to mean something, he just didn’t know what that something was just yet.

But he could figure it out, he thought, gazing down at your peaceful face as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. This was your home now, and he had all the time in the world to learn what it was about you that seemed to set you apart from the rest of the filthy world.

—————

About an hour later, Kai was just beginning to feel his own eyes drop as sleep fought to overtake his senses when he heard a shuffling sound by the still open door and, looking up, he wasn’t all that surprised to find his father standing there in the doorway.

The Boss couldn’t sleep and so he decided to wander down and check on his new charge, he was already beating himself up for leaving you alone in a dark, unfamiliar room. He half expected to find you still awake and crying, however, what he found instead was something far more surprising than anything he could have imagined on his own.

You weren’t crying, in fact, you were sound asleep. Sound asleep and holding his sons hand, his son who hated all unnecessary physical contact. To say he was surprised was an understatement, he never would have expected to find a scene like this, not in a million years.

Kai meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed that his time alone with you was being interrupted. How was he supposed to think and ponder these new developments if he was being distracted by his father’s eyes boring holes into him.

But, he supposed this could have it’s own benefits, now that they were alone, he could ask his father some questions that have been plaguing his mind since he first arrived home.

“Why is she here Pops?” He asked quietly, never taking his eyes off your sleeping face.

The Boss was not the kind of man that believed in treating his son with kid gloves, he told him how things were in a very direct manner and rarely ever beat around the bush when talking to him. He was going to be taking over one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country and he couldn’t afford to have his only son and heir be a spineless weakling. Some might call him cruel for laying so much on a young child’s shoulders, but he knew just how fast he could be swallowed whole if he didn’t possess the necessary moral fiber to stand on his own two feet in this dangerous world he was set to rule in. It might not seem like it, but he loved his son and wanted to see him succeed and push the clan further then even he had.

“Her father was an old friend of mine from back in the day.” He began and leaned one of his large, broad shoulders against the door-frame. “He wasn’t a criminal, in fact, he was a pretty average guy. But he helped me out of more tight spots in our youth then I care to remember and despite knowing about my Yakuza heritage, he never dwelled on it or judged me for it.”

Kai watched as a look of sorrow passed across his father’s face, something that only ever happened when he thought about his mother and he realized it must have meant that he really cared about this dead man, whoever he was.

“We lost touch over the years, but when I got that call from him, asking me to come see him on his deathbed, I knew I owed it to him to go and send him off.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “When I got there, I found out what it was he wanted from me. His last wish was that his only child, his daughter, be raised by someone he knew and trusted. Neither he, nor his deceased wife had any known living family that could take her in. So it was either I take custody of the girl, or she gets put in the system. Clearly you can see what my decision was.”

Kai suspected that there was more to the story than that, but he got what he wanted so he didn’t press for anymore then that.

“So, you want to tell me what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?” His father questioned him.

Kai still had yet to look away from you and to be honest, he really didn’t want to. “She was crying.”

“So you came in here to check on her?”

“Something like that.” Kai murmured, his usual monotone still firmly in place. “She’s different than the others, she’s clean and I don’t feel sick being near her. I can even touch her.”

It was nearly pitch black in the room but there was just enough light streaming in from the hallway that allowed him to see his sons face, and what he saw there nearly had him busting out laughing, but he refrained for fear of ruining whatever it was that was happening to the boy.

Kai was blushing.

It was small and faint, but the tops of his cheeks were definitely looking a bit darker than usual.

And this seemingly innocuous turn of events sparked an idea in his mind, one that he would need to put some serious thought into, he couldn’t just rush something like this without analyzing it from all angles, but it was an option that could ultimately lead to his child’s, no, his children’s future happiness.

“So I take it you’re not going to be having a problem with her being here?”

Kai looked down at you, at the steady rise and fall of your chest and the way you curled in on yourself. He took in the way you nuzzled your face just a bit closer to him and he found comfort in your soft little breaths that he could feel against him arm.

So, did he have a problem with you?

“I’ll take care of her.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! Please let me know what you thought if you have the time!

#yandere!overhaul #yandere!overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #young kai chisaki #no quirks au #yandere bnha #yakuza

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bernadineisreborn · 4 years

Text

It’s You

Fred Weasley x Reader

A/N: Should I be writing Reality? Yes. Did I have a few dreams about Fred and George and decide to write them instead? Yes. Is the Yule Ball overdone in HP fanfic? Yes. But here you go anyway. Please, stay safe amid corona and if you are protesting!

Warnings: Alcohol is consumed. Sex is referenced. Kisses happen.

Word count: 8.6k, my longest ever for one post I think!

My Masterlist

While you and George were easily best friends, you and Fred Weasley had a more complicated history.

It all started when you were younger.

Your father was a wizard, but the nature of his relationship with your mother was short-lived. Really short lived. They met at a small pub in London, where your mother worked. Your father must have had one-time business on the other side of the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, because your mother spent the night with him and never saw him again.

She didn’t mind though. She was ecstatic when she found out she was pregnant, never mind her being single. Raising you as alone was, understandably, very difficult, but she was never one to give up. She was clueless to the secret world that your father had belonged to. Until, one day, you sneezed and broke every glass in the room.

You were six at the time, and your mother had no idea what to do. You had displayed small signs of magic before, but those could be written off as coincidence. This glass-shattering sneeze, however, could not.

It was a week later that you summoned a cupcake into your chubby fist while out shopping. Your mother was horrified. Luckily, there was another witch in the store.

“Well, wasn’t that lovely!” she exclaimed, her red-orange hair falling in front of her face as she bent down to your level, “But best not let the muggles see, hmm?” She looked to your mum, then, a small smile on her face. You mother’s face was still frozen, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The red-headed woman was smart enough to notice that your mum was, in fact, one of those very muggles. She had absolutely no idea of the magical world, and no idea how to care for a daughter who was summoning cupcakes at will.

She smiled, and extended a hand, “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Molly.”

Your mum smiled faintly, “I’m M/N.”

Molly hummed, her expression nothing but understanding as she looked to you, “And who’s this young dear?”

“I’m Y/N!” you said, taking a bite from the cupcake.

Molly laughed, “Your daughter seems quite special! Don’t worry, they usually start around this age, it’s perfectly normal. Come now, follow me.” The woman ushered you and your mother toward the door, leaving her groceries abandoned in the aisle. After all, Molly Weasley knows to help a wizard in need, and you and your mum were very clearly in need.

Once outside, she attempted to explain herself. “I am in town today dropping off some things for Arthur, my husband. He works at the Ministry, you see. I’ve left the children at home, but Bill’s old enough to watch the others now,” she glanced at you, “How old is she?”

Your mother’s voice was hoarse, though she wasn’t entirely untrusting of the strange, kind woman, “She’s six.”

“Ah, yes, what a darling age. I’ve got a pair of twins who are just that!” She glanced at you again, “Now, that wasn’t the first time Y/N’s made something like this happen, is it?”

----

An hour later, you and your mother were sitting in Molly’s home. Molly was explaining things to your mother, who had taken out a pen and paper and was writing diligent notes.

Molly had introduced you to her children before she had sat down with your mother. Much to your dismay, most of them were boys. There was Ginny, of course, but she was only three.

You were led outside by the adorable tot, to where the two oldest boys had picked up broomsticks and started flying around on them. You were amazed. Ginny, unfortunately, didn’t seem to know how the brooms were flying. Begrudgingly, you made your way to the other four children, who were sitting in the grass and cheering their brothers on. Well, three of them were. One of them, an older boy with horn-rimmed glasses, was reading a book.

You tapped on the nearest shoulder, “Excuse me.”

They turned to you. “Want to watch them play quidditch with us?” asked two of the boys in perfect unison. Their red hair was just as flame-like as their mother’s.

You giggled and sat, “Sure. What’s quidditch?”

Their eyes turned wide at this. Again, they responded together, “Only the greatest sport ever invented!”

----

Thus, your destiny was set. Every Sunday, you visited the Weasley household, where your mother learned everything there was to know about magic, Arthur Weasley learned everything he could about your mother’s “fascinating” muggle life, and you became fast friends with the twins.

Both twins, in fact.

Fred, George, and yourself were inseparable troublemakers, spending every second of time with each other to plan your next great escapade.

And so things continued until your fourth year of Hogwarts.

You expected the school year to start as the last three had, a bit of troublemaking and a lot of fun with your two favorite boys.

But things were different. Awkward.

Fred was, suddenly, funnier and taller and more handsome. George was, too. But it was Fred that filled your 14-year-old stomach with simultaneous dread and excitement whenever you spotted him walking your way.

It was fine, though. You were keeping yourself in check. Until one night, in the Gryffindor common room, you were playing a wizarding version of hide and seek.

George was appointed the “seeker,” so you, Fred, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, and the other involved Gryffindors dispersed. You had been wandering the corridor for a few minutes when you heard something.

You froze, hoping on everything holy that it wasn’t Filch or Mrs. Norris or Peeves or the Bloody Baron.

A freckled hand wrapped over your mouth, muffling your startled scream, and spun you around. Fred was standing in front of you, smiling, “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s only me.”

He removed his hand, and you smiled too, at ease. His smile was so damn contagious and handsome and—

“What do you say?”

You refocused your eyes, which had gone hazy on a freckle near the corner of Fred’s mouth, “Hmm?”

“Honestly, I said, do you want to hide together? Two heads are better than one, I reckon.”

You nodded, and he tugged you along. You walked carefully, peeking around corners and tiptoeing as you went.

Fred wasn’t being quite as quiet as you would have liked, and he was known to get caught, so you shoved at him, “Hey, you big git, do you think you could be any louder?”

He arranged a faux puzzled expression, “Louder? Hmm, yeah, I think I could.” He started stomping his feet and whistling; the sound echoed through the empty corridors. He spun to walk backwards and maintain eye contact with you as he did.

You rolled your eyes, “Ha-ha. Very mature, Fred. I’m sorry I don’t want to lose.”

“Mature? You’re playing hide-and-seek!” He poked at your face.

You swatted him away, “It’s not muggle hide and seek! There’s plenty of danger. We’re in a castle, and it’s dark, and there are ghosts, and there is Filch,” you frowned at him, “And anyway, so are you!”

He grinned, “You’re so competitive. You should try out for quidditch.”

“You know just as well as I do that I can barely fly.”

His ginger eyebrows furrowed in thought, “True.” Then, his smile returned, “Maybe we could let you ride on the back of my broom and kick at people who pass us.”

You laughed, too, at that ridiculous image.

Just then, Fred backed into a display case, making a rather thunderous sound.

“Well, that ought to alert Georgie. Follow me.” Fred dashed around a few corners, before clambering into a small closet. You entered after him, obviously out of breath from the run.

The closet was even more cramped than it looked from the outside, and Fred read your expression as you squished yourself against him. “Merlin, if we’re going to try you out for the team, you’re going to need to start going for a jog every now and again.”

You punched him as well as you could in the tight space.

“Yes! That’s the spirit, Y/N! Now, you just need to be able to balance.” He mimed you sitting on the back of a broomstick, punching at air.

You laughed in spite of yourself.

It was then that you realized your face was entirely too close to Fred’s. He seemed to notice in the same instant, because for all of his never-ending jokes and your unrelenting teasing, you were both silent.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice a whisper, “Do you think he’ll find us?” If you didn’t know better, you’d think Fred’s eyes were locked on your lips, but it was dark and you were probably mistaken.

“Probably,” you replied, just as quiet, “Eventually.” You shifted a little, uncomfortable, and ended up, somehow, even closer to Fred than you were before.

George burst in then, looking rather triumphant.

“Fred! Y/N! Found you…” he glanced between you, noting your position, “Were you two about to snog?”

Maybe you had been about to, maybe you hadn’t. But you pushed Fred roughly away and stepped out of your hiding place. “Ew, no. Fred’s a git. The cupboard was just small.”

You had no way of knowing how your words stung Fred, who brushed his hand through his carrot top hair and said, “Yeah? Well at least I can stay on a broomstick long enough to get five feet in the air!”

You scoffed and followed them down the hall, back through the portrait hole, “Terrible comeback, Weasley.” You turned up your nose at him, “And not even true.”

Fred laughed. “You’re right, it’s closer to ten.”

“Hey!”

----

Every time you thought about the incident after that, your cheeks grew hot of their own accord. You were sure your feelings for Fred were one sided. After all, you were clumsy and had known him since you were kids. He probably thought of you like a sister.

So, in a classic attempt to hide your feelings, you started taking every opportunity to get on Fred’s nerves. By your 6thyear, your actions had morphed your relationship so much, that what you and Fred had was only a shadow of your former friendship. It pained you, yes, but you couldn’t risk straining your relationship with both of the twins because of idiotic teenaged hormones.

“Miss L/N, if you could please direct your attention to the front of the classroom, it would be appreciated,” drawled Snape.

You flushed, your head snapping to Snape, who was explaining Golpalott’s Third Law at the front of the Potion’s classroom. You had been staring at Fred’s side profile across the lab table, daydreaming a bit. Now, both Fred and George, who were sitting next to each other and across from you and Angelina, were looking at you.

“Sorry, Professor,” you mumbled, and the twins snickered.

Angelina poked you, her features pulled into a loving, teasing smirk. She scribbled quickly onto a corner of her parchment, ripped it off, and passed it to you: “Thinking about pulling someone into an empty hallway and snogging them to death, dear Y/N?”

If it was possible, your cheeks burned even hotter. You glanced to Fred, but he was dutifully watching the lecture, if a bit bored looking. You grabbed the note, “ANGELINA!!! Please, spare me! L”

You slid it over to her. She laughed under her breath and began scribbling, “Maybe you ought to watch us practice today??? Might help visualize those fantasies???”

Before you could take it back and write to her just how absurd she was being, and that you had been thinking about nothing of the sort, the scrap of parchment was snatched by Fred.

His eyebrows raised as he read the note. You prepared for him to laugh, to say ‘Finally! I knew you were in love with me! Ha!’ But, he just frowned and turned away. George grabbed the paper next, and when he read it, he shot you a look. George definitely knew how you felt about Fred. He was your best friend, and he had caught you gazing dreamily Fred’s way quite a few times, though you had always denied anything he accused you of. You shrugged, trying to play it off like nothing.

“Miss L/N! What about Weasley is so interesting that you think yourself above my lecture?”

You shrunk into your seat, “Nothing. It won’t happen again, Professor.”

----

After Potions, you gathered your bags and slunk shamefully after Fred, George, and Angelina in the halls. Technically, because of the Triwizard Tournament, there were no quidditch games or practices. But, some of the Gryffindor team was meeting up to practice when time allowed, to stay in shape for next season. Angelina, Fred, and George were on the team, so of course, you spent the practices with them, watching them fly, doing homework, etc.

When you had gathered at the Pitch, you began feeble attempts at writing a Charms essay. Mostly, though, you were distracted by your friends. Angelina really was a great flyer, she was dodging almost every bludger George sent her way, and Fred was… sigh.

“Oi! L/N! Want to come play for a bit? We need one more to make it even!” called George.

You shrugged, “Sure! As long as I can be on defense!”

Though you still struggled, your flying skills had made a significant improvement since your fourth year, due to flying lessons from your friends, which were motivated by Fred’s (unfortunately accurate) teasing.

A few minutes later, you were hovering uneasily around the three rings on your team’s side. George, your teammate, was darting around with Fred and Angelina on the other side of the pitch. You zoned out as you watched them. Fred’s shirt was flying up a bit in the wind, a hint of his abdomen on display, and you were trying very hard not to stare. Not that it mattered. From here, he wouldn’t notice if you admired him a bit, would he?

Fred swung his bat, the bludger aimed at George. At the last second, though, his gaze turned toward you, your eyes locked with his, and his bat swung a bit too far.

Suddenly, the bludger was coming your way, far too quickly for you to move.

When it hit your stomach full force, you grunted, but managed to keep your grip on the broom’s wooden handle. Then, you vomited your breakfast onto the field, dozens of yards below you.

----

“I said, I’m fine!” you exclaimed. Fred was the first to swoop onto the grass after you had. You were dry heaving and trying to hold Fred off. The last thing you needed was for him to watch you puke. “I’m not hurt, it just hit me in the stomach.”

“Yeah, I saw that part, didn’t I?” he scoffed, though you could tell he felt a little guilty from the way he was hovering over you.

“Fred!” you groaned, “Please, just give me a minute! I’m perfectly fine.” You groaned as you dry heaved again, your puke reflex fully triggered, “Why do you care anyway?” you asked, under your breath.

“What?”

You held up a finger to him, gesturing for him to wait as you dry heaved again, and then stood up. “I said, why do you care anyway?” You narrowed your eyes, “Were you trying to hit me?”

His guilty expression turned incredulous, “What? Are you barking mad? Of course not!”

You shrugged and crossed your arms, “Well, I saw you look at me while you were swinging and it seemed like you were.”

He blushed, “I was only looking at you because you were trying to distract me! Trying to help George win!”

“For Merlin’s sake, how was I distracting you? I wasn’t even moving!”

His blush deepened, “I don’t know!” he sputtered, his eyes darting over you, “Your shirt is too bright!”

You were furious, and he was getting in your personal space. Your shirt was, in fact, the standard Gryffindor burgundy, and definitely not bright. “My WHAT?” At this point, George and Angelina had landed their brooms as well, and were taking tentative steps your way as you pushed at Fred’s chest, “Fred Weasley, you are the absolute WORST—”

You were suddenly being restrained by two lanky arms—George’s—and dragged away.

“Alright, I think that’s enough of that lover’s quarrel for one day, don’t you, Angelina?” George quipped, guiding you back to the castle, “I’ll take Y/N back to the common room and make sure she’s okay, let’s say we meet in the Great Hall for dinner?”

Angelina nodded, and before you knew it you were being led through the halls of Hogwarts to 6th year Gryffindor boy’s dormitories.

“George, he hates me! I just know it!”

“Quit being so dramatic, woman, he doesn’t hate you. You just have a talent for getting on each other’s nerves.” He sat you on his bed, forcing you down by the shoulders, and went to his trunk.

“He aimed that bludger at me!”

“He definitely did not aim at you, he was probably just…” he trailed off, speaking under his breath.

“Probably just what?”

“I don’t know,” he was rummaging haphazardly through his and Fred’s trunks, “He was probably just distracted!”

You gasped, growing angry at your favorite twin, “You’re taking his side? I should have known—”

He stopped you, “I’m not taking his side,” he held up the purple end of a puking pastille, “Here, take this.”

You swallowed the gummy, and instantly, all of your queasiness vanished. “Thanks,” you muttered.

“I wish you two would just kiss and make up,” said George, who had sat next to you on the mattress, “It’d make things a whole lot easier for Angelina and me.”

Your cheeks flamed, “Like I want that to happen.”

George rolled his eyes, “Come on, Y/N. You can’t lie to me.” He nudged your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows. “I know all.”

Your blush deepened, but you laughed, “For Merlin’s sake, I knew your ego was inflated beyond repair, but I hardly think three OWLs qualifies one as omniscient.”

George and you were near cackling a few minutes later, and you were feeling very glad to have him to cheer you up, when Fred entered.

He stopped in the doorway, staring at the two of you as your laughter faded, his expression stormy, “Sorry to interrupt.” He grabbed something from his trunk, and slammed the door on his way out.

George grimaced, “Doesn’t look like he’ll be too happy with me later,” he said, his eyes locked on the closed door.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused, “Why do you say that?”

George turned back to you, an easy smile replacing the grimace, “No reason, love.” He stood up, “Come on, let’s go to dinner.”

----

In the Great Hall, you sat in between George and Angelina, as usual. Fred was sat on George’s other side. He had barely looked at you as you came in. Rude, you thought, He could have at least apologized.

The conversation between the Gryffindor girls was as it had been all of the other meals recently: gossip about the Yule Ball. Some Ravenclaw girl had been asked by a boy from Durmstrang, Alicia Spinnet informed you. Neither you nor Angelina had been asked yet, though you were hoping you would be soon.

Ideally, of course, you’d be asked by Fred, who would confess that he’d loved you this whole time, and that he wanted nothing more than to dance the night away at a romantic Christmas-themed ball. Of course, currently, you were mad at him. He’d need to apologize first.

You’d be alright with anyone, so long as you didn’t have to go alone. Not that it really mattered. Worst case scenario, you’d strut into the Ball with Angelina, both of you dateless, but looking good enough that all of the boys who’d brought dates abandoned them to dance with you.

You nudged George, “Hey. Are you planning on asking anyone to the Ball?”

He met your eyes and shrugged, barely chewing a hunk of roast before swallowing. “Depends. Are you going with anyone?” He nudged you back and winked.

You were laughing, well aware that he was kidding, when George was shoved into you by Fred, who looked at you very seriously, and then looked at George. There seemed to be some sort of twin telepathy because before you knew it, George was apologizing and Fred was turning away, his shoulders hunched.

You nudged George again, more subtle this time, and whispered, “What was that all about?”

He shrugged and whispered back, “Freddie here is in a sour mood. He hasn’t got a date yet.”

You shot him a look, “Neither do you, George.” Just then, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory strolled into the Great Hall, arm in arm, looking very pleased with each other, rosy blushes dusting both of their cheeks. You sighed and put your chin in your hand as you watched them walk by, “And neither do I.”

You sat for a moment, thinking about George’s joking proposition to you. He and you had no feelings for each other, you were sure. In fact, you were relatively positive that he had a crush on Angelina. You were also pretty sure that these feelings, should they ever be expressed, would be returned. They would make a cute couple.

Anyway, it wouldn’t be so bad to go to the Ball with George. He was one of your best friends, he was funny, he was chivalrous. He would be a good date. Maybe I’ll ask him to go with me, as friends, you thought, if neither of us finds anyone else.

“Excuse me, Miss L/N?”

You turned, and behind you was a handsome Beauxbatons student, in his blue uniform. “Erm, hello. How can I help you?”

His smile grew, and you were vaguely aware that the entire Gryffindor table was watching the exchange. Your heartbeat sped up.

He eyed the table, apparently also noticing the attention on you two, “I was hoping you would like to chat privately for a minute? In the courtyard, maybe?”

Your cheeks grew hot, and Angelina shoved you out of your seat, speaking for you, “Yes, of course! She’d love to!”

You smiled at him, and turned back to your friends. George shot you a thumbs up, and Angelina was grinning. Fred’s mood, however, showed no improvement.

“All right, yeah, I’ll go.” He gestured for you to walk ahead of him, and together, you walked out of the Great Hall.

“Miss L/N,” he addressed you again, holding out a polite hand, “My name is Louis, it is a pleasure to introduce myself formally.”

You took his hand, and instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles. Your face was flaming, “Erm, yeah. I’ve seen you around. You can just call me Y/N.”

He laughed lightly, “Okay then, Y/N,” you were now in the courtyard, and there was a light snow falling. You shivered, and he handed you his cloak, “Please, stay warm. How are you?”

You took the cloak gratefully, “I’m okay, I—

Before you could get another word out, the courtyard was enveloped in a blinding blackness. You panicked a bit, reaching your arms out to feel for something solid to hold on to, and soon found a pair of outstretched arms. Assuming they were Louis’, you grabbed on for dear life, and allowed yourself to be dragged back into Hogwarts.

When you were out of the blackness, you scoffed, watching it disappear behind you, “I’m sorry, Louis. That must have been my friend, George. He probably thought it would be—” You turned, and were surprised to see Fred standing next to you, and not Louis. “—funny,” you finished. “Fred? What are you…” You looked back out to the courtyard, where Louis’ form was beginning to reappear. Then, Fred was tugging you toward the moving staircases.

“Fred!” You shoved his arm off of yours. “What are you doing?”

“Leading you back to the Common Room, obviously,” there was a small smirk on his face, as he grabbed your arm and once again tried to guide you.

You yanked your arm away, “I can find my way back perfectly well on my own, thanks!” He shrugged, and started walking. Despite yourself, you followed. “Why in Merlin’s name did you do that?”

His smirk returned, “Do what?”

“Throw that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder! I was having a nice conversation!”

“Oh that,” he glanced back at you, his smile growing at your infuriated expression, “Louis seemed shady.”

“He seemed WHAT?” You were seething at this point, “Fred, I think he was going to ask me to the Ball,” much to your dismay, your tone came out more disappointed than angry.

At this, Fred’s expression shifted into one of mild annoyance, “Don’t worry, I’m sure someone else will ask you. Louis, though, was up to no good.” Fred looked back to you again, “He probably just wanted to sleep with you.”

You stopped in your tracks, “As if that is the only reason he’d be interested in taking me to the Ball? As if I have nothing else going for me?” Fred had gone too far this time.

He stopped too, and cringed, “That is not what I meant.”

You held your nose up, “Well, that’s what it sounded like.”

It was quiet for a moment. Fred sighed. “Look, I just have a bad feeling about him. He seems like a right wanker, alright?”

Fred’s expression was genuine, but you couldn’t help yourself, “Louis was being perfectly chivalrous.”

Fred held his hands up, accepting defeat, “Alright, fine. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

You sniffled.

He continued, “And I never apologized earlier, for hitting you with the bludger.” He ruffled the back of his hair with his hand, and the gesture was so very awkward, so sincere, that you found yourself forgiving him far faster than you should. “I didn’t mean to. I’m not sure how it happened.”

After a second of contemplation, you punched his muscled shoulder, your resolve thoroughly broken, “I suppose it’s fine. Not your fault you have terrible aim,” you cracked a smile.

He smiled too, laughing under his breath. For a second, it felt like the old days, when you and Fred could laugh freely and tease each other without starting a war. You felt oddly nostalgic, and before you could fully consider your words, you blurted, “What happened to us?”

His smile faded, and you instantly regretted saying something. His eyes filled with an intensity that you hadn’t seen in them in a while, and you were strangely reminded of the hide-and-seek closet from those years ago.

Before he could reply, Angelina and George rounded the corner, George’s arm slung over Angelina’s shoulders. “Oi!” he called, “We wondered where you’d gone off to Fred!” He smiled at you and ruffled your hair when he reached the two of you, “You’ve found our dear Y/N, I see. So, have you got yourself a date to the Yule Ball?”

You glanced to Fred, who looked suddenly guilty. “No, Louis probably just wanted to hook up with me. You know, because of my fantastically proportioned figure and extraordinary facial features.” You smirked Fred’s way, an action not unnoticed by George. Fred rolled his eyes.

Angelina gasped, “What makes you think that?”

You shrugged and smiled, “Intuition. Don’t worry, Ang, he isn’t worth it.”

----

A few days later, you were standing by the fire in the Common Room, talking to Angelina.

“I’m not sure what the team will look like next year without Oliver,” she was saying, “He was really the glue to the team, though he was a bit sexist, calling us ‘lads’ all the time. Do I look like a lad to you?”

You shook your head, agreeing with her. Just then, a pair of bright orange heads wandered through the portrait hole and sat with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The twins appeared to be talking mostly to Ron.

“…And with the year off, too. It’s not going to be good, Y/N. I’ll be captain so I’ll be responsible…”

You tried to listen to your friend as she spoke about quidditch. Fred and George were still talking to Ron. Fred looked relaxed, sure of himself. Confidence, you thought, is a good look on a man. As if they had felt you watching them, all five people sat at the table turned your way. You and Fred made brief eye contact, and he seemed to be thinking something through. Your relationship with him had been improving a little since your interaction in the hall the other day. Though you still didn’t have a date to the Yule Ball, and were starting to wonder if you should seek Louis out for another ‘private chat.’ Maybe he’d ask again if prompted.

Fred seemed to decide something, and then he was shouting, “Oi! Angelina!”

Angelina pulled her gaze from you and her thoughts from quidditch, “What?”

“Want to come to the Ball with me?” called Fred, eyebrows wiggling mischievously. Your heart dropped. Of course he’d want to ask Angelina. She’s beautiful, she’s kind, she’s athletic, she’s smart. Why would he ask you when you’d only just started getting along again a few days ago?

George glanced to Fred then, looking a bit affronted. Angelina shot you an anxious look. You forced the jealous thoughts from your mind, and smiled lightly at her, shrugging. “All right, then,” she said, turning back to you.

“Oi! Y/N!” you turned back to the table, where George had just called your name. At this point, the entire Common Room was watching the exchange. Fred’s attention was on George.

“What is it, George?” you asked, not having to guess too hard at what he was about to say.

He smiled, “Want to come to the Ball with me?” his grin was growing by the second, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but couldn’t help a smile from sliding onto your face, “Sure thing.”

You turned back to Angelina, who looked nervous, probably thinking you’d be mad that she was going with Fred. You smiled at her, “That was weird.”

Her shoulders relaxed, “Sure was. Can’t expect anything different from that pair, though.”

Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell rushed over to you and Angelina, immediately interested in your plans for the Ball.

And you couldn’t blame them. You could tell, this was going to be very interesting.

----

On the day of the Yule Ball, Hogwarts was buzzing.

The castle grounds were perfectly white and snowy and the students were excitable. Even most of the teachers could be seen with a spring in their step, humming a Christmas tune.

You and Angelina were darting around your dormitory, half dressed, hair half up, makeup partially done.

“Y/N, have you seen my shoes?” called Angelina from the other side of the room. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, and then around the room, which looked as though a swarm of pixies had been through it.

“Yeah,” you replied, picking up your wand and flicking it so the elegant high-heels hovered in the air, “Here.”

“Thanks,” she responded, letting out a huff.

Your dress was beautiful: the exact length, texture, and color you had been imagining it would be since you heard Hogwarts was hosting a Yule Ball. And Angelina looked great, too. She was wearing a velvety plum colored dress that perfectly accentuated her athletic frame.

You pinned a few hairs out of your face as she slipped on her shoes.

“Erm, Y/N?”

“What’s wrong?” you asked. Angelina’s pretty face was twisted in an anxious expression.

“Well, nothing is wrong, exactly, but…” she trailed off, looking at you in the mirror you were using to get ready. “Well, I wanted to make sure you’re okay with me going to the Ball with Fred.” She looked nervous, and a bit guilty.

You laughed, a bobby pin stuck between your teeth, “As long as you’re okay that I’m going with George.”

Her expression stilled, her eyes grew wide, “But—I—”

“I know you like him, Ang.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting, “I do not.”

“Could have fooled me,” you retorted.

She frowned, “There’s no reason I would be mad! Why would I be mad? I’m not mad.”

You sent her a smile, “Nor am I mad that you’re going with Fred,” you eyed her through the mirror, “And even though you’re insisting that you don’t like him, I’m pretty sure George likes you.”

Her eyes grew wide, and thoughtful, with this information, “Really?”

You nodded.

There was silence for a few moments.

“They’ve really done a number on us, haven’t they?” she asked you, not completely serious, but there was a certain weight behind her words.

“Yeah, they have,” you agreed, “Maybe we should ditch them and just go together.”

She laughed, “Maybe we should.”

You finished with your hair and turned to face her. “I’m ready to head down, how about you?”

“Me too,” she looked you up and down appreciatively, “Damn, girl! I can’t wait to see Fred’s face when he sees you in that!”

You scoffed, “Yeah right! It’ll be nothing compared to George’s when he sees you!” You took her arm and descended the stairs together.

Fred and George did, indeed, do double takes when they saw you and Angelina.

They had been standing nonchalantly at the bottom of the staircases, dressed in robes that were clearly hand-me-downs, but far nicer than their usual attire nonetheless. George spotted you first, grinning your way before his gaze slid over to Angelina. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened as he watched her walking towards him. You felt smug, you knew they had a thing for each other.

Fred was watching Angelina, too, a small grin on his face. When he glanced at you, his grin fell away and his eyes turned intense again. You wondered if you’d done something to offend him.

In perfect unison, they spoke, “Hello, ladies!”

“Hey, George,” you smiled at your date.

He mock bowed your way, “Merlin’s beard, it’s going to be hard to behave myself tonight,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows, “You look great, darling.” He slipped an elegant arrangement of flowers over your wrist: a corsage.

“Aw, thanks, George. You didn’t have to do this.”

He was grinning, “I promised I’d make tonight worth your while.” Above everything else, you were glad to be going to the Ball with George. He was easy: tonight would be fun and stress-free.

A throat cleared, “Y/N.”

You turned toward the voice, “Hi, Fred.” You observed his outfit—a yellow vest, a slim bowtie—he looked very handsome, “You clean up nicely.”

His expression was still solid. Stormy, almost. “You’re not so bad yourself, fantastically proportioned figure and extraordinary facial features and all.” he smirked, referencing your comment from the other night. His eyes trailed over your body shamelessly—almost as if he were checking you out.

You laughed, but your cheeks were burning, “Thanks.” Next to you, George and Angelina seemed to be having a similar exchange. You smiled at them.

George turned back to you, then, holding out his arm for you to take, “Alright. You ready, Freddie?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, mate.”

The four of you made your way to the Yule Ball in pairs, Fred and Angelina were arm in arm just as you and George were.

The Great Hall was barely recognizable. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in frost, and were sparkling and silver. There were garlands of mistletoe and ivy hung from wall to wall and the trick ceiling displayed a perfectly starry night. There were dozens of small tables arranged neatly around the room, in place of the house tables, each one with a lantern for light. It was breathtaking.

You squeezed George’s arm in excitement, and moved to sit at a table with some other Gryffindors.

When the formal dinner was over, you danced. You danced a lot and without any thought to how other people were perceiving you. As you and George—and Fred and Angelina—made your way through the Hall, the crowds parted, giving you plenty of space as if they thought you might run them over. You were having a lot of fun. As you had predicted, George was an excellent date.

“Need more beverage?” he asked, and you nodded, him and Fred leaving to refill your drinks.

When they came back, George handed you your drink and winked, “This one’s got something special in it.” His eyes were full of their usual mischief, and he must have noted your unsure expression, because he rolled his eyes, “Oh relax, it’s not poisoned! It’s just got a bit of firewhisky in it.”

You grinned, “Alright then,” and downed it.

George whistled, “Careful there, Y/N. We’ve got all night.”

You laughed. Then, The Weird Sisters’ song slowed until it wasn’t something you could dance to in the way you and George had been dancing previously. You set your empty cup down, “Want to dance?”

He smiled at you, a friendly sort of smile, and downed his drink, too. “I’d love to dance. I have the most beautiful date in school.”

You snorted, “Oh please,” but you put your head on his shoulder, and settled your arms around his waist. His arms rested over yours at the small of your back, your torsos pushed together. You swayed with him for a minute without talking. You could feel the firewhisky making its way through your system.

A few feet away, Fred and Angelina were dancing, too. Angelina’s arms were tucked behind Fred’s neck and his were on her waist. They weren’t as cuddled up as you and George were; Fred was saying something to make Angelina laugh.

You were saddened by this sight. You found yourself wishing you were here tonight with Fred instead, and then felt immediately guilty because George had made such an effort to be a gentleman. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?” asked George, his voice concerned and close to your ear with how you were dancing.

“It’s nothing,” you lamented, feeling rather sorry for yourself. “Does Fred like Angelina?”

George was silent.

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I mean, he must. He asked her to be his date tonight.”

George pulled away from you, just enough to look at your face, his expression was, for once, serious, “Well, I asked you to be my date. And no offense, Y/N, but I don’t have feelings for you.”

“Oh.” You frowned, not having considered this information, “I mean, I know you don’t. I don’t have feelings for you, either,” you giggled.

George’s mouth twitched, “In fact, I have feelings for someone else,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened, and your mouth turned upwards, “Really? Well, it just so happens that I also have feelings for someone else.”

He rolled his eyes, “I never would have guessed. You’re so subtle.”

You scoffed, faking offense, “Well, it’s not like you’re slyest in the bunch either, George.”

He eyed something behind you, “What do you say… that we stir the pot a bit?”

“What do you mean?”

He looked back to you, clearly hatching some evil plan, “I mean, what do you say we make them a bit jealous?”

You narrowed your eyes, “I’m listening…”

He grinned, again glancing somewhere behind you, “You see, if I were to dip you,” he tugged you to the side, and let you fall a bit towards the floor, “and snog you, just for a second” he added, noting your distressed expression, “I bet it would get a reaction from anyone who has feelings for you.”

You were confused, “Who has feelings for me?”

His grin remained intact, “Just trust me, love.”

You nodded, trusting him without question as he leaned in and closed the gap between you. When his lips landed on yours, they were firm, and chaste. You felt no spark, no electricity. But, you felt the same feeling of safety that you always felt around George.

When he pulled away, he winked, and helped you back into a standing position.

“Well, that happened,” you remarked, not feeling much of anything.

“It sure did,” he agreed.

“Did your plan work?” you asked.

He looked again to a spot located just over your shoulder, “We’ll just have to wait to find out.”

Curiosity filled you, “What are you looking at?” You moved to turn your head, and follow his gaze, but he stopped you with a hand on your cheek.

“Trust me, Y/N.”

----

A few songs later, you and Angelina were sitting at an empty table. Fred and George had gone to talk to Ludo Bagman, for some reason, leaving you here.

As you sat, you looked around the room. Harry and Ron seemed rather lonely, sitting by themselves, Padma and Parvati nowhere to be found. Ron’s robes were very traditional, frilly, and a bit gross looking, and you felt a twinge of pity for him. Harry, on the other hand, looked quite nice in expensive-looking emerald robes.

You pointed them out to Angelina, “Don’t they look just miserable?”

She nodded, “Poor Harry. Ron’s in a horrible mood tonight.”

“Why is that?”

She looked back to you, “Did you see Hermione Granger?”

You shook your head.

“Well, Alicia was telling me that she overheard her and Ron talking the other night. Ron wondered who Hermione was taking to the Ball, but she wouldn’t tell him. Turns out she’s here with Krum. And she looks absolutely stunning. Almost rivals the Delacour girl.”

You frowned, “Well, why’s that got Ron in a bad mood?”

Angelina raised her eyebrows at you, “You really are clueless, aren’t you? Ron definitely likes her.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them interacting, it’s pretty obvious most of the time. Too much sexual tension for there to be no feelings.”

You giggled, “Well, I can’t be completely clueless. I noticed George liking you.”

She frowned, “Speaking of George. Did I see you guys kissing?”

You blushed, “Oh. Right. Please don’t be mad!” you gave her a very apologetic expression, “He said it was to ‘stir the pot.’ Whatever that means. Apparently, there’s someone here that he thought would get jealous.”

“Why would I be mad?” Angelina’s perfectly sculpted brows were furrowed, and then raised in surprise as she processed your words, “Y/N! I think—”

Across the room, Fred and George were no longer talking to Bagman. Instead, they were talking to each other, and apparently arguing about something. Before you could point it out to Angelina, they were headed your way.

Fred stopped right in front of you, “Hello, Y/N. Care for a chat?”

You glanced to Angelina, who’s wide eyes were glancing frantically back and forth between you and Fred. “Too much sexual tension for there to be no feelings,” she muttered, apparently to herself.

You blushed, hoping Fred hadn’t heard that. He must not have, because he was still looking at you, “Uh, sure.”

Fred gestured for you to follow him as he made his way outside, to where rosebushes had been conjured and filled with tiny, living fairies, who glowed in the chilly nighttime air. A statue of Father Christmas and his reindeer were elegantly placed in the middle of the makeshift enclosure.

Fred stopped and faced you. “I saw you kiss George.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose, “Yeah. So?” You shivered once, not having a coat or a sweater of any kind, and Fred noticed. He took off his own and draped it over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you muttered. This felt somehow similar to when Louis had tried to ask you to the Ball a few weeks ago.

“So, why did you kiss him?”

You met Fred’s eyes, very confused. “What do you mean? He’s my date, I’m allowed to kiss my date, aren’t I?”

“Well, I’d rather you not.”

Your expression shifted into one of incredulity, “Fred are you actually serious? Did you bring me out here for another lecture on which boys you think want to use me for sex? Because I’m pretty sure George has no interest in—”

He frowned, exasperated, “No! No. I just—Why George? Why is it… always George?” He was staring at you quite intently, and you were again reminded of a different time. Fourth year, broom cupboard, hide and seek.

You took a step back from him, clueless, “What do you mean ‘Why is it always George?’ Like I said, George is my date.” You felt like there was something you should be figuring out right about now. This was too weird.

“But, you didn’t want to kiss him…” he said slowly.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, it’s not like he forced me.”

Fred frowned, clearly this is not what he had wanted you to say, “No, I mean, you didn’t really want to kiss him.”

You paused, crossing your arms, “No. I guess I didn’t really want to kiss him.”

“But you did anyway… because he was your date.”

“Yes. Because he was my date.” You avoided mentioning the other, more embarrassing reasons for the kiss.

“But why?” he asked, still staring at you very intently, still dressed very nicely.

You were silent for a moment, wondering where he was headed with this, “Why what?”

Fred frowned, also in thought, “Why didn’t you want to kiss him?”

You rolled your eyes, “Because I don’t like him like that, you dolt. We’re just friends.”

“It always seemed as though you like George. I mean, what’s not to like? I know he’s not as good looking as I am, but still.” Fred seemed to think this comment was pretty funny, because he smirked to himself.

You pressed your face into your hands and groaned.

“So why?” he repeated. You shot him a scathing look. “Why don’t you like him like that, I mean,” he corrected.

Your eyes lingered on his brown ones. He seemed earnest, there was no hint that he was about to make fun of you. “I… I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He scoffed, “I think it’s entirely my business.”

You turned toward him again, cheeks hot, “And why would you think that, you entitled prick?”

His eyes met yours, and then he glanced up. The sky was inky and filled with scatterings of stars and a bright full moon, just like the trick ceiling inside the Great Hall. Combined with the elegant enclosure, it would have been dreadfully romantic—if you were with anyone else.

When Fred’s gaze found yours again, there was something softer to it: he was vulnerable, “You know why, Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped and your eyes fell to the grass. There was no way he knew. You were careful, you were—

“Y/N,” he repeated.

“I—I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain yourself,” you settled in, ready to defend yourself.

“Because I’m in love with you,” your gaze shot up at this, eyes wide, “and I think I deserve to know who my competition is.” Fred’s eyebrows were furrowed and his expression was honest. He was steeled, prepared to take this blow, prepared to know, finally, that you didn’t love him back.

You turned from him, despite every cell in your body telling you to do the opposite. You were on fire. “But…” you sputtered, “you hate me!”

He laughed, “I will admit that I acted to intentionally make my feelings for you less obvious.” He paused, “But honestly, woman, you didn’t know?”

You spun towards him again, now several feet away, in utter disbelief at how idiotic the pair of you had been acting: being mean to each other to throw the other off your scent. “Of course I didn’t know!”

Fred took in your distressed expression and took a few strides towards you, grabbing your forearms in an attempt to calm you. His hands were warm, you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. It was cold outside, damnit. And he must have been wearing some sort of potion for cologne, because your head was light with this sudden close proximity.

You slammed your palms against his chest in a weak attempt to display your anger, failing when you noticed his muscles tense under your fingers. You let Fred pull you into a hug. You were enveloped in him for the first time in a long time, and you couldn’t help but notice how well you fit together.

After a few moments, you heard his voice, “So, who is it?” His voice was in your ear as George’s had been during your slow dance, but with Fred’s words, a shiver went down your spine.

You tilted your head, chin resting on his chest as he looked down at you. His dark eyes were still hardened in preparation of your confession. And though you felt bad for him in the moment, thinking that you were about to tell him about your feelings for someone else, you couldn’t help but smile and tuck your face back into his chest. Fred loved you back. You could hear his heart beating at a speed you were positive was much quicker than it should be.

“Who is it, love? I promise, you won’t hurt my feelings, if that’s what you’re worried about. We can stay friends, I won’t be upset.” You could tell he was trying to be gentle. He didn’t want to hurt you while you told him who you loved instead.

You groaned, and spoke into his shirt, “It’s you, you absolute tosser.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you, darling.” You could hear the overjoyed smile in his voice, and you knew, he had most definitely heard you. He was being cheeky, already.

You pulled your face back from him again, and met his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you got any words out, he was leaning down and kissing you.

And it was a little awkward at first, with both of you being so excited, you fumbled for a bit. But after a moment or two, your noses stopped bumping and you wound your hands in his hair and kissed him back as passionately as you could. His arms pulled tighter around you, and one hand reached down to squeeze your butt.

You pulled away, swatting at him. “Hey!” But, both of you were breathless and smiling and you leaned in again. The night was cold but you might have been in a sauna for all you knew. Your blood was racing through your veins. You’d wanted this for years.

Kissing Fred was nothing like your kiss with George had been. Fred’s lips on yours made all of the disgustingly cheesy things you read about in romance novels happen: your heart was racing, your head was light, your stomach was filled with butterflies.

When you finally pulled away, both you and Fred were gasping for breath, the cold, winter air drawing into your lungs again and again.

You cleared your throat, “I said…” you gave Fred a pointed look, “It’s you, you absolute tosser.”

He laughed under his breath, “Yeah, I gathered, love.” He moved in to peck your lips again.

As you walked back to the Great Hall, his arm around your shoulders, you grinned at him, “So, me and my fantastically proportioned figure and extraordinary facial features, huh?”

Fred rolled his eyes.

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A/N 2: I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments 🥺💕⚡️🧡

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