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thelastdrop · 4 years

Text

Surprise

Momoland Nancy & Momoland Ahin x Male Reader

6586 words

Categories: smut, threesome, shower sex

Read on AFF

Editors: @worldsover and @nsfwflint

A warm summer’s air passes into the open window of your company car. Why the company would ever give you an Audi as your company car is still beyond your knowledge, but there is no way you were going to complain about getting a free ride. You would have taken anything they gave you, so the black leather seats, touch screen interface, hands-free calling, and all the other bells and whistles were novel amenities that took some getting used to.

On your right you see the sign for your apartment complex’s parking. You take the turn over the sidewalk and begin to descend toward the garage. An automatic gate is lifted as a sensor picks up on your car's barcode from a sticker on your front windshield. Living in a complex that has a nice garage like this was one of the main things you were looking for when you and your girlfriend were picking out a place to live.

You and Nancy have been having a great time together recently. Your relationship had taken the next step when you both decided to move in together about a month ago. Living together not only gave you both the opportunity to see each other more, but it also gave you something to look forward to after you would come home from work. Nancy is always there to greet you with a warm smile and a hug as you walk in the door.

You park your car in your ‘assigned’ spot. Not that they were really assigned but most residents would park their cars in the same place every day so they could take a short walk to the elevators. Stepping into the elevator, you press your floor number and it lights up causing the metal doors to close in front of you. A sigh of relief is exhaled from your lungs. Finally you made it to the weekend and won’t have to worry about work for the next two days.

With a soft bing bong the metal doors open again. Exiting out onto the intricately designed carpeted floor, you make your way down the well kept corridor towards your apartment. Picking out your apartment from everyone else's is made easier by Nancy’s love of home decor. A different wreath always hangs on your door depending on the season, and this one happens to be a vibrant green leaf wreath with yellow Daylilies interwoven throughout.

“Welcome home oppa!” Nancy announces as you walk in the door. “How was your day today? I hope it wasn’t too hard.” She approaches you and gives you a kiss on the cheek while you take your coat off and hang it on a coat rack near the entrance.

Nancy’s love of decor doesn’t stop at the door. She’d fallen in love with a contemporary style of decorating after seeing it in one of her friend’s places. On the cream walls are splashes of color found in different objects, your favorite being a Marilyn Monroe painting you’d picked out after seeing a street artist selling it. The background of the painting looked as if the artist took red, yellow and orange paint and threw them on the canvas. After letting it dry, they came back and painted a very minimalistic face of Marilyn Monroe using only black to outline and white to fill.

“No it wasn’t too bad. I actually got praise from my boss on my work with the Kosak account.”

“That’s great! Well I do have a bit of an ask from you…” she trails off. Her eyes narrow, gauging your reaction from your face.

Nancy has a problem with always wanting to help her friends out. No matter what the issue is she will, without fail, say yes to whatever they need her help with. It’s caused her to miss dates before, show up late for work, it’s even made her forget to pick you up from the airport. So you already know that this is going to be a major ask since she never runs these things by you.

You let out a deep sigh. “I hope it isn’t something that’s going to mess with my birthday,” you sternly reply since it is 5 days away.

“Oh no oppa, I would never forget something like that,” she says as she takes your right arm between her boobs, knowing how much you like them. “I just wondered... if it would be okay... for Ahin to stay with us for the next week while she looks for a new place?” Nancy asks with her voice getting higher by the end of her question.

“You want what?” you say with mild annoyance, “Nancy we barely just moved in together and now you want to throw someone else into the mix? She could ruin the good thing we have going here.” You pull your arm out from between her boobs and turn to walk into the living room.

Nancy scurries in front of your path and buries her face in your chest. “But please oppa? I promise it’ll be like she isn’t even here,” Nancy says with big puppy dog eyes focused on you.

Her ultimate move. You have never been able to tell Nancy no whenever she looks up at you with her dark brown eyes and puckers her lip. The other thing this look did was always give you a great view down her shirt, which you're pretty sure is why she wore her thin strapped tank top today.

“A-Alright she can stay over. But only for a week,” you cave as your face warms up causing you to turn your head away.

“Yay! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you oppa! You're the best boyfriend ever!” she says as she jumps in front of you, her tits bouncing up and down.

In the middle of her celebration, a gentle knock raps on the door.

“Oh that must be her,” Nancy says, skipping over to the door.

“Wait... you already asked her? What if I said no?”

“I know you weren’t gonna say no,” she says in a sultry tone giving you a wink.

You smack yourself in the head on missing an opportunity to have Nancy begging for something. How far would she have gone to have her way?

Fortunately, it wasn’t one of Nancy’s other friends. Yeonwoo and Hyebin were two bombshells that you’ve always been attracted to. Obviously not as much as Nancy, but having one of them around could have led to some… interesting situations.

The last time you saw Ahin she had a short bobbed haircut with bangs. She never really struck you as an overly sexy type of girl, but rather as someone who you could bring home to mom and dad. She had a very homely kind of aura about her calming your worries about having one of Nancy’s friends stay over with you.

“Ahhhh! I’m so glad you’re here,” Nancy says through the slit of the ajar door only big enough for her to fit through. She reaches both arms through and gives the person on the other side a hug. The door knocks open as they jump and hug each other, revealing a bouncing head of blonde hair on the other side of the hug.

As they break the hug, you get a good look at the other girl and you're left speechless. If this was Ahin, she’d almost completely re-invented her image. What was once a short brown bob with bangs is now long flowing blonde hair that’s parted in the middle. It frames her face so much better than her old haircut did, making you focus on things like her piercing hazel eyes and her plump red lips more than you would have.

You knew Ahin had a pretty good figure, especially when she would wear tight shirts that showed off her large bust, but this just blew you out of the water. A thin strapped darker pink dress with roses and irises hugs her in all the right places, showing off her massive tits and giving you plenty of cleavage to gawk at. It also clings tightly to her stomach and ass, not leaving a lot to the imagination.

When your eyes finally start to work their way back up Ahin’s body, she stares right at you. She gives you a subtle wink as Nancy snaps you out of the trance.

“Come on oppa, greet our guest,” Nancy says, pulling you in closer to the two of them.

“Oh, yeah. Um hey Ahin... you look, like, really good.” you say as you stumble your way through the conversation, “When did all of this change happen?”

“Oh this?” Ahin says as she does a little twirl, “Nancy didn’t say anything to you about it? Ah, what kind of friend are you that you don’t brag to your boyfriend about me?”

“I was planning on telling him, but something must have happened and it slipped my mind.”

Ahin extends both of her arms. “Well don’t be shy now. Nothing’s changed, I'm still the same old Ahin as before, so can I have a hug oppa?” she says with a little head tilt.

You quickly glance at your girlfriend for reassurance, but she just gives you a ‘why are you looking at me’ look. When you step forward and embrace Ahin, she pulls you deeper into the hug pressing her boobs against your chest. The feeling of her soft mounds pushing up against you covers a much larger area than Nancy’s do.

Before you break your hug, Ahin goes up on her tiptoes and whispers into your ear, “We’re going to have a lot of fun while I’m staying with you oppa~.” As she finishes her sentence, she blows lightly on your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, come with me Ahin and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping while you’re here,” Nancy says as she grabs her hand, pulling Ahin toward the guest bedroom you’ve been using as a stay at home office.

“Oh, and oppa! Grab Ahin’s bags for her would you!” Your girlfriend calls out from the other room.

“Sure thing!” you yell back as you pick up the rolling suitcase and walk towards the room where the two women are.

—

It’s been three days since Ahin came to stay with you and Nancy, and to say Ahin was having fun messing with you would be an understatement. Everything that she wore was extremely revealing. If Ahin had a thin strapped tight tank top, she would walk in front of you while watching TV and pick something up off your coffee table. You swear you saw a silhouette of her nipple poking out from those beautiful round mounds, but you quickly averted your gaze when you heard Nancy make some noise in the other room.

As you got home today, you’re relieved that the work week was finally over. All you can think about is a nice warm shower, before getting into some comfortable clothes and watching TV with Nancy cuddled up beside you on the couch.

Opening the door to the apartment, you aren’t met with your usual warm welcome you’ve become accustomed to.

“Hey I’m back,” you call out to the dark, quiet apartment to see if you could get a response, but no luck.

After taking off your coat and hanging it up, you walk into the kitchen and flip on the lights. A note left on the marble countertop.

“Gone out to the store. Be back later with food~” - Nancy ♥

You love how in sync you and Nancy are. Even without telling her you wanted to just stay home tonight and just order something, she is already getting some food for you two to eat tonight.

Rummaging through a drawer beneath the counter, you pull out a pen and write a response to her note.

“If I’m still in the shower when you get back feel free to join me ;)”

And now a nice warm shower awaits you. You make your way through the apartment and notice that the light to the room Ahin is staying in was also off. Looks like Nancy forgot to turn off the lights in your bedroom though. It follows much of the same style the rest of your apartment does. Your bed frame is made out of black wood and the sheets and pillowcases that adorned it are eggshell white. You have no qualms about the style since Nancy really knew what she wanted when she found the place.

The buttons on your shirt easily come undone as you walk into your bathroom. You toss all your clothes into the hamper before turning on the shower. The ice cold water catches your hand so you quickly try to remove it before getting hit by the painful chill. Letting the shower warm up, you move over to your sink and take your contacts out. Click. Click. The front door. Nancy must be here.

You quickly throw the lenses into a small trash can and scamper into the shower. Luckily the water is nice and warm now so you aren’t entering a cold shower. Closing the glass door behind you, you splash some water onto the two glass walls of the shower to make it seem like you’ve been in there for a bit.

Soon enough the door to the bathroom creaks open, but you pretend not to hear it. With some shampoo in your hands, you lather your head thoroughly. You begin to pick up what sounds like different articles of clothing quietly hitting the floor. Some heavier than others signaling that Nancy is trying to be quiet and sneak up on you.

You decide to play along and have some fun with it. Keeping your back turned to her, you continue to wash yourself. A sudden rush of cold air enters the almost sauna-like shower.

Wasting no time, a pair of hands reach around and caress your chest before working their way down the front of your body. A soft hum comes from your closed mouth and they reach your hardening cock. One hand slowly begins to pump as the other one massages your balls.

Your eyes flutter closed as the hand that was gliding up and down your shaft begins to fist the head of your cock.

“Fuck that feels so good…” you let out breathily as you slowly begin to hump into her hand.

“Mmmm now I see why Nancy wanted you to move in with her so badly.” A voice different from your girlfriend says in a sensual tone.

Your eyes snap open and you spin around to see Ahin completely naked standing in the shower with you. The blonde woman stands there with lustful eyes as she scans you up and down, like an animal examining its prey.

You take a step back out of the water and retreat under the showerhead. Ahin doesn’t flinch to walk into the warm water and let it cascade over her body. Streams flow between her soft mounds then down her tight stomach, before they finally reach her thighs. Not a single drop goes down her body and hits the drain without you staring at it. It’s just water after all.

“I know Nancy wanted it to be a surprise tomorrow, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Teasing you the last few days has been way too much fun, and I know you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“N-nancy wanted it to be a surprise tomorrow? W-what does that mean?” you stutter out while this goddess of a woman pulls her wet hair back so none of it is in her face.

“Nancy wanted to give you a really nice birthday present,” Ahin says as she steps forward out of the water and places her hands on the tiled wall behind your head, “and asked if I could help her give it to you. But I really couldn’t help myself after seeing your little note.”

Ahin reaches down and wraps her hands around your cock. Her hands corkscrew in opposite directions as they glide up and down the length of your rock hard shaft. Your head lurches back against the tiled wall, closing your eyes from the pleasure of her soft hands..

Wasting no time,Ahin latches onto your exposed neck and begins kissing upwards along your jawline. “So if you’re willing… to keep a secret… till tomorrow… you and I… can have a little fun… before Nancy gets back…” Ahin says in between each of her kisses.

In a flash Ahin is on her knees in front of you. She releases your cock and takes her boobs before she sandwiches your cock between them. Nancy has done this for you many times before, but there was something different about the way Ahin felt. Maybe the pressure, the movement, it may just be doing it in the shower that made the difference. Whatever the reason, it feels immaculate.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss out.

“You like that oppa? You’ve been staring at them all week so I thought you’d enjoy this.”

Unable to fully respond, your groans are enough to let her know you want her to continue. Regaining enough composure, you look down at Ahin. She stares right at you, studying the slightest movements in your body while taking mental notes of what you seem to be fond of. A big grin appears on her face right before she quickens her pace causing your face to contort in pleasure.

With all of your blood rushing out of your head and the heat that is sitting inside of the shower, you lose all inhibition against the bombshell throwing herself at you. You reach down and grab Ahin’s wrists, bringing her back onto her feet. You pull them above your head to spin her around, then you pull them back down, locking them behind her back. Her ragged breath fogs up the glass while her tits press up against the cold glass shower wall.

"That’s it oppa. Fuck me like I know you want to," Ahin says in a lurid tone as she sticks her ass out to sandwich your cock in between her plump ass and your stomach. You let go of her wrists and bring your hands around to cup her breasts.

She lets out a pained whine when you squeeze her soft tits.

“If we do this, we have to tell Nancy as soon as she gets back,” you grunt out as Ahin grinds her ass up against you.

“I have a better idea.” Ahin smirks as she pulls away from you and reaches out of the shower door and grabs her phone. She opens up her camera then grabs your hand and puts it on her supple breast.

“Well come on! Get in frame,” she says looking back at you. Maybe you shouldn’t send something like this to your girlfriend. “Trust me Nancy will love this.”

Still unsure about how this might play out you can tell that Ahin won’t let this go. You reposition yourself so you can see your face in the picture. Ahin poses seductively with one hand wrapped around your dick and another hand stroking the opposite tit to the one you’re grabbing. Giving a smirk and wink to the camera she snaps the picture.

Ahin takes her hand off your dick and begins to fiddle with her phone. A few seconds later she reaches back out of the shower door and places it on the sink counter. “There that should get her home faster,” she says as she turns back to you.

Without hesitation, Ahin throws her arms around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. At this point you’ve given up on resisting her advances and wrap your arms around her waist to pull her deeper into your lip’s embrace. The faint taste of cherries passes across your tongue as you work her lips open and invade her mouth. Ahin moans as your hands find purchase on her plump ass to pull her up on her tiptoes.

“God, I need you to stick this in me right fucking now.” She moans as turns around and places her hands on the glass wall.

“No. I want to do it over here.” You pull her through the water so you're both under its warm current. Ahin lets out a little yelp but it turns into a giggle as she realizes what you are doing. She then places her hands along the tiled wall and arches her back so her ass sticks out for you.

“Now fill me up oppa,” she says, looking back over her shoulder.

You line up with her folds as the water rushes down her back and over her ass. Wanting to tease her a bit, you slowly push the head of your cock into her, causing a long moan to escape her mouth. Inch by inch, you sink into her warm velvety cavern as Ahin tries to push back against you to speed up the process. However, you hold her hips in place and continue until you hilt inside her. Ahin lets out a satisfied moan when your thick cock fills her. You hold her there a moment, enjoying the feeling of her walls stretching around your length.

Pulling your hips back till your head is the only part that remains inside her, you snap your hips forward. Your pelvis and her ass clap loudly at your force, splashing water as you relentlessly thrust. A yelp escapes Ahin’s lips, invigorating you even more. You build a steady rhythm as you continue to make Ahin moan. Her warm walls feel tighter than Nancy’s, clinging to your cock in an almost desperate manner.

You lean over Ahin’s back and kiss the back of her neck as you continue to thrust into her. Her big beautiful breasts swing back and forth putting you in a trance. You swear you could hear them calling out to you, begging you to grab them and fill your hands with her smooth tits.

As you grasp each one in your hands you begin to knead them, making Ahin sigh in bliss. Wanting to earn even more a reaction out of her, you pinch her stiff nipples with your index and thumb and pull on them lightly. Your reward is given quickly when Ahin’s legs quiver at the pleasure mounting from your fingers and your pistoning shaft. She takes one hand off the wall and circles, clit with it.

“Oh SHIT! Just like that… don’t stop… please don’t stop,” Ahin chants as she is pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Not needing to be told twice, you double your efforts and place one hand on her shoulder and return the other to her hip giving yourself better leverage. Long and hard strokes into her tight cavern aim for the same sensitive spot every time. Each thrust causes Ahin’s body to lunge forward slightly, moving her up onto her tiptoes.

Suddenly, Ahin lets out a loud moan as her walls begin to clamp down around your cock. You feel your balls begin to tighten while the muscles in your groin begin to burn. Her orgasm doesn’t stop you from thrusting with all your might and your own climax soon follows. You pull out of Ahin and stroke yourself as you aim your dick at her back. Long streaks of white arc across her back and ass when you are sent over the edge.

Breathing heavily, Ahin turns around and leans against the wall as you place a hand beside her head to steady yourself as you try to gain some composure back.

“Holy shit Ahin. That felt amazing.” you pant. Her hazel eyes pierce yours, your vision returning from a blur.

Ahin smirks and begins to move in for a kiss but stops just short of your lips, tilting her head to look over your shoulder with a sly smile.

“Finally decided to join us Nancy?” Ahin says in a joking manner.

You spin around to see your girlfriend standing there with an annoyed look on her face. Her arms are crossed, lifting her chest up, as her foot taps the ground snappily. Before you can say anything Nancy cuts in.

“Really Ahin! I told you to just hold it in till tomorrow and you’d get to have all the fun you wanted with us. But noooooooo I guess you couldn’t silence that inner slut of yours for just one more night.”

You and Ahin stand there in stunned silence looking at Nancy as her eyes dart between the two of you. You look back at Ahin with a look that says “I thought you said this was okay!” This deafening quietness is broken by Nancy once again.

“Alright fine. He can just have it tonight… But you owe me a round before you get both of us,” Nancy says as she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor and turns to walk out.

Ahin tries to hold in a giggle.

“Well come on oppa! I know you’ve got way more stamina than that!” Nancy calls out from inside your bedroom.

You're stuck in place, with the water still running down your back, baffled at what you just heard.

“See oppa~ I told you she would like the text,” Ahin whispers before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and scooting around you to exit the shower. She grabs a dry towel off the rack and pats herself down before following Nancy into the bedroom.

Still trying to comprehend what just transpired, you still can’t move as all of your mental capacity is being diverted to understanding the situation you’re in. Your girlfriend asked her best friend to come over and stay with you until your birthday so she could surprise you with a threesome. Not only that, but she also told Ahin to tease you regularly, wanting you riled up for what was coming. Then, it hits you. There are two unbelievably attractive women waiting for you in your bedroom.

You cut the shower off and almost slip with how quickly you step out of the shower. Steadying yourself on the towel rack you grab a dry towel and run it across your body quickly before running through the doorway into your bedroom.

Both women lie on their sides and face one another, exposed fully for you on the bed. Their round plump asses stick out at you and reveal just how wet each of them are. Ahin has her hand on Nancy’s thigh caressing it up and down as the two of them look at you with eyes full of want and desire.

“Come on now. Don’t keep her waiting any longer,” Ahin giggles as you step towards your girlfriend.

As you put a knee on the bed and begin to lean over Nancy, she places a hand on your chest and looks you in the eyes.

“Uh uh. Lay down, you got to have your fun with Ahin and now I want to have my fun with you,” Nancy says pushing you back.

Something primal must've washed over her. When you lay back to let Nancy have control, she crawls over you and looks at you as something she needs to mark as her own. Watching you and Ahin for that brief moment in the shower made her desire grow further.

Her thick thighs press against your legs when she straddles you. Nancy leans, down placing her hands beside your head. You watch her hair fall along the sides of her face as she moves in closer. Her breath is brief on your face before her soft lips make contact with yours. You instinctively push your head off the bed to deepen the kiss, while your hands find their way to the small of her back pulling her into you.

Nancy quickly counters your movements in an attempt to maintain control by pushing her tongue into your mouth. The two muscles wrestle with one another, battling for dominance. Your hands slide down Nancy’s back till they reach her round, firm ass. You give it a solid squeeze once they make it there, earning a muffled moan from your girlfriend.

Sensing she is losing control, she pulls away from your kiss and gazes intently into your eyes while breathing heavily. She then sits upright on your lap and maneuvers one of her hands behind her and in between your leg grabbing your hard cock.

Still slick with Ahin’s juices, your dick slides into Nancy’s tight pussy with ease as her muscles grip it firmly. You both let out moans and groans while she sinks down onto your cock letting it fill her up. You start to move your legs up so you can plant your feet into the mattress, but you’re stopped when Nancy takes your hands off of her ass and pins them above your head.

“Oh no no, you need to be punished for starting without me. It was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow,” she says looking back at Ahin who is intently watching the two of you but then averts her gaze when Nancy leers at her, “but since that was spoiled I want to have some fun before you get to have yours.”

All you can do is nod at her request. Nancy then moves her hands to your chest as she raises up onto her feet to squat while making sure to keep your dick inside her.

“Don’t move those hands until I say so. Got it oppa,” Nancy says in an authoritative manner.

“Yes, Nancy.”

Nancy then picks her ass up off of you before slamming it back down, spearing your dick deep into her wet walls. A long moan followed by some quick breaths escape Nancy’s lips before she begins the process again. A steady bouncing rhythm starts to form as her tits bounce up and down with her movements. Your eyes dart from the contorted face of your girlfriend to her boobs to your glistening cock appearing and disappearing into the soaked cavern it so desires to be in.

All of Nancy’s focus seems to be on her maintaining her ability to continue bouncing on your cock, so when Ahin sneaks beside you she doesn't seem to notice or care. Ahin crawls behind your head and looks down at you smiling devilishly. She hangs one of her large boobs only an inch or so away from your mouth. Her head is over your chest looking down at you, while you struggle to maintain the promise of not moving for Nancy.

“Go on oppa. As long as you don’t move your hands until Nancy says, you can do whatever you want with them.”

You look back to Nancy whose head is completely arched back. She has returned to her previous position and now straddles you with her meaty thighs and continues to bounce herself on your dick. You quickly dart your head up and capture Ahin’s large, round breast in your mouth. Ahin obviously needed some sort of stimulation because as soon as you latched onto her nipple and your tongue began making erratic movements over it, she let out a pleasurable sigh.

“Mmmm that’s a good boy,” Ahin muses as you eagerly devour her sweet tasting skin.

You can hardly contain yourself from sitting still any longer and decide to help both women out. Planting your feet into the mattress you begin to thrust upwards into Nancy with reckless abandon. If Nancy can’t get a word out then she couldn’t scold you for moving when she told you not to. Nancy’s moans rise another octave as you relentlessly pound into her. You can tell she is getting extremely close to climaxing when her walls start to throb around your dick.

Before Ahin has a chance to say anything either, you wrap your arms around her, pulling her soft globes deeper onto your face. Not expecting it, Ahin is forced prone with her boobs squished against you, almost suffocating you. You wiggle your face into her cleavage where you kiss and lick at whatever skin your mouth can reach.

“So this is what you were warning me about Nancy?” Ahin asks giggling.

Nancy is now matching the timing of your thrusts with her own as her legs tighten around your waist. Her breathing has become so rapid and shallow you're surprised she isn't passing out.

"Cumming," airlessly exhales Nancy through gritted teeth.

She spreads her legs wide as they begin quivering. You slow your pace as you let the wave of gasps wash over you while Nancy's body is gyrating out. You try to keep your mind focused on not cumming yourself.

Nancy takes a moment to collect herself before lifting up off of your cock, which slaps wetly against your stomach as it exits Nancy. Ahin quickly lunges forward and takes it into her mouth, slurping hungrily at your cock covered with Nancy’s fresh juices.

“Fuuuuuucckkk,” is all you can manage to let out as she deepthroats your cock. Your hands run through your own hair as you continue to stave off the urge to cum again so quickly. Ahin’s tongue glides over every inch of your cock, wanting to taste as much of Nancy as she can.

Breathing heavily, Nancy lays on her side beside you looking at you and your pained expression.

“You better be saving that load for me. If Ahin gets two before I get my first I may just completely drain you out tonight.”

The dirty talk Nancy adds on top of Ahin’s glorious mouth working on your cock does not make it any easier. Luckily for you, your girlfriend sees how hard you are trying to hold off and gives Ahin a firm slap on her ass.

“That’s enough you little slut. Give him a break.”

Ahin lets your dick out of her mouth with a little pop. “Aw, but hearing his moans was so much fun.”

“I think it’s time we let him have his fun with us,” Nancy says to her friend as she gets on her knees next to you, “Get off of him so he can stand up.”

Nancy jokingly pushes Ahin off of you, sending her rolling on her side snickering.

“Alright oppa, go ahead and stand up at the foot of the bed.” Nancy says as she looks down at you.

You sit up and scootch your way to the edge of the bed before standing up and turning back around to face the women. They both look lustfully at your cast-iron cock standing proud covered in a mixture of Ahin’s saliva and Nancy’s juices while dripping with pre-cum. Without saying a word to one another, you watch as the two gorgeous women position themselves for you.

Ahin lays on her back with her feet over the edge of the bed, while Nancy crawls on top of her, straddling her waist and sticking her plump ass out at you. Nancy shakes her ass inviting you to join them. You approach the two of them and drop to one knee before affixing your face into Ahin’s wet folds and sticking your tongue out. Ahin lets a breathy moan out as you run your tongue upwards through her folds and then in one motion do the same to Nancy’s coaxing a similar moan from her.

The two distinct tastes linger on your tongue as you raise back up and position your cock at Ahin’s pussy lips. With one thrust you hilt into Ahin making the girl’s head snap back against the bed when you hit her g-spot directly. A guttural moan rips out of her vocal cords as you begin to hammer away at her soaking pussy.

“Looks like he chose me first,” Ahin says between heavy breaths and moans, taunting Nancy.

“He just wants to make sure he finishes in me,” Nancy quickly snaps back.

Being so close already, you can’t stay inside of Ahin’s tight walls for very long. As you continue to thrust into Ahin you lean over Nancy’s back and whisper into her ear.

“The faster you make her cum, the faster I get to cum in you.”

Nancy gets a sly smirk on her face before sliding her hand down Ahin’s tight stomach. As soon as she reaches her clit, Ahin looks at Nancy with wanton eyes when she nods her head and bites her bottom lip. You feel Nancy’s hand working on Ahin as you continue to bottom out into her with long, hard thrusts. Soon enough, Ahin’s velvet walls constrict around your cock as you struggle to thrust in and out. You watch her legs shake as she hits another climax tonight, this one seeming to hit her harder than the one in the shower had.

Slowing your pace, you let her orgasm ride itself out before you pull out of Ahin and immediately thrust into Nancy.

“Don’t hold back baby. Fucking tear that pussy up.”

Your hips take off in a bestial lust as you fuck your girlfriend. You place both of your hands on Nancy’s ass and spread it apart as you piston in and out of her. Her moans are like music to your ears. Mixed with the sounds of Ahin’s still heavy breathing, you can hardly contain yourself any longer.

You wrap your arms around her torso, pressing into her back. She turns her head and arches her neck back just enough for you to capture her lips and push your tongue in. Looking up at this hot scene, Ahin wants to get in on the action and latches onto one of Nancy’s perfect, round orbs.

Almost as soon as you release Nancy’s lips, your girlfriend pulls Ahin off of her tit and pushes her tongue into Ahin’s mouth. Ahin happily accepts it with a smile and continues to play with her friend’s boobs.

Smirking, you unravel your arms from around Nancy and bring them to Ahin’s tits. They are jiggling slightly from the rocking your thrusts into Nancy’s tight cunt. You start by pinching her nipples and attain a second muffled moaning girl underneath you. Ahin’s face scrunches as both her and Nancy let out pleasured whines in between the breaths they take.

The slick walls of your girlfriend's pussy along with both girls’ muffled moans are enough to finally spell your end.

“I’m about to cum.” You say thrusting more erratically.

Nancy quickly pulls away from Ahin and looks back over her shoulder at you.

“Give it to me baby. Fill me up. I need it.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re buried as deep in as you can, and you tremble as your cock throbs, releasing a monumental load of sperm into Nancy. You put your face close to Nancy's and let out a breathy moan as she does likewise.

You stay intertwined with increasingly soft pulses coming from your sensitive dick. Eventually you pull out, all three of you collapsing on the bed.

Ahin and Nancy take their place beside you after you crawl to the middle of the bed. You lay an arm out for each of them and they both cuddle up to you as you pull them in close.

“How was it oppa?” Nancy asks looking up at you.

“If this is what I get on the day before my birthday, I can’t wait to see what I get tomorrow.”

A/N - Hey everyone~ I’m finally back with a new piece! I hope you all have been well and enjoyed this oneshot that I started wayyyyy back in August before my account was all sorts of fucked up. I’m happy to say I’m back now and will hopefully be able to spend more time with you guys this upcoming semester. I want to give a huge shout out to @worldsover and @nsfwflint who really went ham when editing and fixed a LOT of my poor writing after being gone for so long. Like always feel free to leave any suggestions/thoughts/comments either below this post or in asks if you’d rather stay an anon. Thanks for reading and stay happy and healthy!

#momoland smut #ahin smut #nancy smut #male reader #reader insert #ahin #nancy #momoland #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

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Please Help

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Changbin

Caregiver: Minho

Changbin gets sick and while trying to hide it gets into an argument with Minho, who might be the only one there to take care of him.

Changbin’s POV.:

It was getting closer to four in the morning and I have yet to fall asleep. For some reason, my stomach had started to hurt pretty bad at some point during the late evening. I couldn’t tell whether it was something I ate but I knew if it wouldn’t get better soon, I wouldn’t get any sleep before having to get up for our schedule. Dance practice, something I really wasn’t looking forward to at the moment. Even if my stomach got better by then, I’d be way too tired for the intense choreographies we’d be working on. Just thinking about all the fast turns and jumps made my stomach churn uneasily. Considering there was no use in laying in bed stressing out, I slowly got up. Maybe some tea would settle my stomach, so I could get at least a tiny bit of sleep. I had to be carefully as I felt a bit queasy if I moved to fast. Wrapping one arm around my aching middle, I shuffled to the kitchen. I didn’t feel like turning on the ceiling lights as they were way to bright, so I ended up using my phone’s flashlight to find my way. After I turned on the kettle, I grabbed my favorite cup and popped in a bag of ginger tea. My mother once told me it helped with nausea and I prayed it really would because being up and moving made me feel increasingly queasy. Waiting for the water to boil, I moved a bit closer to the sink, unsure if the odd feeling at the back of my throat was just a fluke. My mouth was watering a little, which worried me quite a bit. If this got bad enough to make me throw up, I probably wouldn’t be better in a few hours, when we’d have to head out.

I was so distracted worrying, that I almost missed the water boiling. Snapping out of my thoughts, I prepare my tea before shakily making my way to the living room. The few minutes I had been standing seemed to have drained most of the energy I had left and I weakly plopped onto the couch, drawing my knees up to my chest. Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead on my knees and took a deep breath. By now, I was almost certain that I was sick. My head felt too light for me to just be tired and I highly doubted the dorm was as cold as it seemed to me. I couldn’t be sick now though. We were way too busy for me to take some time off. Usually, I’d be rather open about how I felt because I knew my friends would be by my side, comforting me until I felt better, but with how busy we were, I didn’t want to stress the rest of the group out. Completely forgetting about my tea on the coffee table, I sprawled out on the couch with my hand under my shirt, rubbing soft circles over my stomach. Exhausted, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes, it was already dawn and when I sat up, reaching for my tea, it was cold. My stomach didn’t hurt as badly anymore, though it was still a bit sore. Checking the time, I realized we’d have to get up in ten minutes anyway, so I disposed of my cold tea and went to get ready. It was a bit of a struggle because although my stomach had gotten a bit better, my head had become foggier and I stumbled around clumsily, probably waking most of the members already with all the noise.

No one’s POV.:

Though he was up earlier than his friends, Changbin took quite a while to get ready, spacing out frequently. It all made sense with the fever he was running but the rapper didn’t think to take his temperature. Knowing about his fever wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway, as he had already decided not to say anything and to go about his day as if nothing was wrong. Chan noticed the younger not being fully awake and made sure the rapper would have breakfast, knowing he’d need the energy for their dance practice. Changbin figured that maybe, if he was lucky, having some food would help settle his stomach further and maybe, just maybe, he’d feel less dizzy after eating something. He was quiet on their way to the company building, still trying to shake the fog in his head as he knew he’d have to be more than just focused if he wanted to keep up with their dances.

They were still warming up when Changbin realized, his breakfast had been a mistake. His stomach was churning again and he cursed himself for not skipping out on the meal. The rapper had no idea how he was supposed to dance like this, afraid he’d make himself sick with all the fast movements. “Changbin, wake up! We want to start now, so move”, Minho ordered. The members were already on their starting positions, all except for Changbin, who seemed to be in his own world. Startling, the rapper nodded and quickly got into position. He didn’t even know which song they’d dance to first and anxiously waited for the first beats. Today was not his day. Of course, Minho would start with the most complex choreography first, so they’d have the time to perfect it. He didn’t know how but Changbin managed to go over all the moves, being only slightly behind the beat. It wasn’t good enough though for him not to be called out by Minho, reminding him to speed his dancing up a little, so he’d keep up with the music. Barely paying attention to what his hyung was saying, the rapper nodded along as sweat ran down his back. His stomach cramped and he tried not to wince before he was forced to go back to his starting position, so they could give it another try.

About an hour in, Changbin wasn’t doing any better. His dancing was at least as off-beat as it was the first time and his moves grew increasingly sluggish. The rapper had already excused himself to the bathroom twice, feeling like he needed to be sick. He hadn’t thrown up and had made his way back to the practice room either times after accepting that it had been another false alarm. By now, Changbin contemplated just sticking his finger down his throat, as he’d probably feel better after getting everything out, so dancing wouldn’t torture him as much anymore. Pausing the music again, Minho sighed: “Bin, can you at least pretend you’re taking this seriously?” - “S-Sorry, hyung, I am”, the rapper apologized, trying to pull himself together. He just couldn’t focus, no matter how badly he wanted to. Changbin swallowed hard, fighting the rising nausea. “Well, you’re moves don’t really make it seem like you are”, Minho commented, “Put a little effort into it, would you?” Not daring to open his mouth, the younger nodded, making himself dizzy.

Minho’s POV.:

Changbin had been slacking off ever since we started and was really getting annoying. It didn’t look like he was even trying at all, his moves all over the place. The more time passed, the worse it got. We needed to get this perfect soon because one of the company’s choreographers would stop by towards the end of our practice to see how we were progressing, which in my dongsaeng’s case was backwards. Taking a deep breath to calm my temper, I reminded him: “Pull yourself together, Changbin, alright? Someone will watch our dance later and if you keep fooling around like this, all of us will get in trouble.” – “S-Sorry, I-I need the bathroom”, he stammered, already fleeing without giving me the chance to say anything else. I had lost track of how many times he had already escaped ‘to the bathroom’, probably trying to kill time till our practice was over. Giving Chan an exasperated look, I went on to help the rest of the members polish up their moves. The leader only shrugged, contemplating going after Changbin but by the time he had made up his mind, the rapper already returned. He took his time, getting a drink first before joining us in the middle of the room again, causing me to pinch the bridge of my nose and remind myself to stay calm for the sake of the other members. I was really irritated but needed to be professional, otherwise we’d make even less progress.

No one’s POV.:

The remainder of their practice session passed just the same and before they knew it, they were joined by the choreographer. Changbin blinked confused. He had forgotten they’d have a visitor, no matter how many times Minho reminded him. Swallowing convulsively, the rapper prayed his stomach would stay where it was. He hadn’t thrown up yet but the number of false alarms was ridiculous. Spacing out while the dance-racha talked to the choreographer, Changbin snuck a hand under his sweaty shirt to palm his cramping stomach. He couldn’t suppress a shudder, feeling chilled to the bone in his sweat-damp clothes. It was confusing really, how he could sweat that much when it was so cold in the practice room. They had surely turned the aircon down to arctic temperatures. Seeing the other members gather in the center of the room, Changbin dizzily made his way over and prayed he’d be able to get through the entire song. He really didn’t want to get sick or faint in front of everyone, especially now that someone else was present, expecting him to be professional. One of the jumps made his stomach lurch, acid rushing up his throat. The rapper panicked, gritting his teeth and quickly swallowing it back down, while trying to not miss a beat. In the end, he surprised himself by striking the ending pose without passing out, despite the black spots clouding his vision.

Still panting, Changbin saw the choreographer walk up to him. He could hear the other talking but couldn’t comprehend anything he said, too distracted by his stomach sloshing nauseatingly. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple as he nodded along to whatever the choreographer was saying, mainly focused on staying upright without puking on the other’s shoes. When the older finally stopped talking and bid the group goodbye, Changbin plopped down on the ground, assuming their practice was finally over. He was startled when a fuming Minho walked up to him. “Why couldn’t you just take it seriously earlier?”, the dancer spat, “I have so many other things to get done today and now I need to stay behind until you get it right.” Blinking at the older confused, Changbin muttered a tired: “What?” – “Didn’t you listen to a word he was saying? I really can’t believe you! You and I are forced to stay here until you get it right, so get up! We’re starting right now, no breaks just dancing because I also need to practice my vocals later and am not planning on staying here all night”, Minho snapped, grabbing his dongsaeng’s wrist and hauling him to his feet. Blacking out for a second when he was upright, Changbin swayed on his feet but managed not to fall.

The other members were already packing up their things while Minho got a drink before walking over to the sound system to start the music again. Sensing the tension, the group quietly left as they didn’t want to irritate Minho further. When the dancer turned around again, he had top realize that Changbin had slipped out of the room unnoticed. Angrily gritting his teeth, Minho paused the music and went to go look for his dongsaeng. Considering he hadn’t been gone for long, the rapper had to be somewhere close by, so Minho decided to check the practice room next to theirs. It was empty and closing the door again, the dancer’s eyes fell on the bathroom a little further down the hallway. His anger dissolved when he heard muffled sobs through the door, already assuming it had to be Changbin. Minho’s prediction was correct and he found the younger curled up against the far wall, feeling guilty as he could see now that the rapper hadn’t been fooling around but was actually struggling. Quietly sitting down next to his crying dongsaeng, the dancer draped his arm around the other’s shoulders. Changbin hadn’t even noticed his hyung walking in and startled when he was suddenly touched, flinching away. “Hey, ssh, it’s okay”, Minho hummed, finally taking a closer look at his friend. His heart broke when he noticed how pale the rapper looked, barely distinguishable from the wall behind him. His sweat-soaked practice clothes clung to him uncomfortably.

“I-I’m sorry”, Changbin whimpered, not looking up, “Hyung, I’m so s-sorry, please- Hyung, please he-help.” Trying to make eye contact with the younger, Minho promised: “It’s okay, Binnie, I will but you need to tell hyung how. What’s going on?” The rapper only choked on another sob, squeezing his eyes shut. Gently brushing back Changbin’s sweaty bangs, Minho cringed when he felt the heat radiating from his dongsaeng’s forehead. “You’re burning”, he stated sympathetically, “Haven’t felt well all day, hm?” The younger defeatedly shook his head, shifting and trying to get up. His face had taken on a slightly greenish tint, so Minho helped him up, getting the rapper settled in front of the toilet. “H-Hyung, I can’t”, Changbin muttered shakily, before ducking down with an unproductive gag. Comfortingly rubbing his back, Minho instructed: “Deep breaths, then explain what you can’t and how I can help.” The rapper coughed weakly before drawing in a shaky breath and admitting: “Can’t throw up. Always feel like it but nothing’s happening.” – “That’s why you’ve been running off all the time wasn’t it? I’m so sorry I never took the time to ask you if everything was alright”, Minho cooed regretfully. Nodding, Changbin tensed with another gag, hand going up to his throat that ached from the strain. Getting back up, the dancer promised: “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to get you some water. Maybe drinking something will speed things up. Just hang in there.”

Minho hurried to retrieve his dongsaeng’s water bottle from the practice room, all the while beating himself up for making assumptions earlier. In hindsight, it was obvious that Changbin hadn’t been alright. He would never slack if a choreographer was present. The dancer’s eyes landed on his own sweatshirt, carelessly thrown next to his bag. Quickly grabbing that too, he rushed back to the bathroom, only to find Changbin in pretty much the same position that he had left him in. Resting a gentle hand on the younger’s shoulder, Minho hummed: “I got you a warmer shirt too. You’re not going to get better if you’re running around in wet clothes. Do you want change first?” Shivering pathetically, the rapper nodded and struggled to get his sticky shirt off. Minho helped him pull it off before handing him the sweatshirt. It was a bit tight around his dongsaeng’s broad shoulders but it was a lot warmer.

Changbin slumped with his back against the toilet stall, closing his eyes and bringing his fist up to his face to muffle a queasy belch. “Do you want to have some water? Either it helps your stomach settle or it makes you sick, so you can get it over with and I can take you home”, Minho offered, already uncapping the bottle. The rapper winced but accepted the bottle. He didn’t really want to be sick but after so many false alarms, it’d be better to just get it over with than be stuck in this limbo forever. Taking a few tentative sips, Changbin realized the water certainly wouldn’t settle his stomach, so he started to chug it quickly, struggling to keep from gagging. He barely got to finish his drink before dropping the bottle and scrambling over the toilet bow, as the water gushed from his lips. Minho was there in a second, running his hand up and down his dongsaeng’s back to keep him calm as wave after wave of clear water shot up his throat. Choking a little, Changbin gave a painful cough and reached for his hyung’s hand. He yearned for comfort, needing a hug but his stomach wasn’t yet done. It clenched again, causing the rapper to pitch forward with a strangled retch. Biting his lip, Minho took Changbin’s hand, that was still blindly feeling around for his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

It took a while for Changbin’s stomach to calm down again but they were in no hurry. Unlike his earlier claims, Minho would definitely stay the entire night at the company building if that was how long the younger needed. When it didn’t seem like the rapper was going to bring anything else up, Minho carefully pulled him back let him lean against his chest while he tore off some toilet paper to wipe his dongsaeng’s lips. Changbin dizzily closed his eyes, huffing shaky breaths while the older cleaned him up. He was glad he finally got it over with but now he was so spent that it didn’t feel like he could get up at all anytime soon. There was a gentle hand on his forehead, brushing the damp bangs back before softly scratching his scalp. “Feeling at least a little better now?”, Minho whispered as he continued to run his hand through the younger’s hair. Lacking any energy, Changbin could only give an uncertain hum and kept his eyes closed as he slowly relaxed in his hyung’s hold. Checking his fever again, the dancer promised: “You will soon. As soon as you feel ready to move, I’m taking you back to the dorm, so you can rest in your bed and I can fetch you some medicine but don’t worry, there’s no rush, you can take as long as you need.”

Changbin drowsily went in and out of sleep as Minho didn’t have the heart to wake him, so they could go home. The dancer had no idea how long they had been sitting there but it didn’t matter all that much to him. Yeah, he wanted to get the younger home but if the other needed to regain some of his energy first, that was fine with him too. Minho was deep in thought, guiltily recounting all the opportunities he would have had to realize his dongsaeng was sick, when Changbin sleepily sat up. “Hyung, can we go home? I’m tired”, he muttered, voice scratchy from throwing up. The older nodded and got up before extending his hands to help the rapper up. Changbin’s head spun when he stood and Minho was quick to wrap him in a hug to steady him until he had adjusted. Even when the rapper nodded that he was okay now, Minho kept one arm around his waist, just in case. They slowly made their way back to the practice room, where the dancer hurriedly threw their stuff into their bags before slinging both of them over his shoulder.

Their walk back to the dorm seemingly too forever as Changbin dizzily stumbled next to Minho, who tried to keep his dongsaeng from falling. Unlocking the door, Minho quickly kicked off his shoes before helping the younger with his. He walked the rapper straight to his room and placed his bag next to his desk after sitting the sick boy down on his bed. Changbin instantly curled up, struggling to pull his blanket over himself as he still shook with chills. Cooing sympathetically, the dancer helped him with the blanket before turning to leave the room. “Hyung, can you please stay? I-I know you have a lot of other stuff to do, so you don’t have to, I just- I-”, Changbin rambles sleepily, needing the comfort he had been craving since last night but still remembering the older’s temper earlier. Face softening, Minho crouched next to the bed. He gently cupped his dongsaeng’s feverish cheek and whispered: “I will, don’t worry about it, yeah? I will stay with you as long as you’ll have me but I need to get a few things first, so we can try and bring that fever down at least a little.” Changbin nodded and closed his eyes, hoping his hyung would be quick. He had lost all sense of time, so he had no idea how long it had been before the mattress dipped beside him. “Bin? Do you feel like you could drink something? I don’t want you getting dehydrated after getting sick and sweating so much during practice”, Minho asked carefully. The younger shrugged propping himself up on his elbow and accepting the water his hyung handed him. The dancer had also gotten a bucket, figuring Changbin would throw up again before he was able to get over his bug, and a cold washcloth to place on the rapper’s forehead. When Changbin handed the water back, Minho placed it on the nightstand and got into bed beside the younger, cooing when the other up on against him. “Your head must be hurting a lot, so I’ll put something cool on it that will hopefully help your fever”, the dancer whispered, draping the washcloth across his dongsaeng’s burning forehead before running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Giving a satisfied hum, Changbin relaxed and soon drifted off to sleep but still heard the quiet: “I’m sorry, Binnie. I’ve been a shitty hyung today but please know, I will always help if you ask me to.”

#stray kids #skz #sick #sickfic #fanfic #fanfiction #emeto #minbin #comfort #fluff

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viperbarnes · 3 years

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The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

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The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

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polnareffenjoyer · 3 years

Note

Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

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byulsgrease · 3 years

Text

as you wish

some good ol’ party fun.

(moonbyul x fem reader, ~1.2k words, original req here)

a/n: been a while since I last wrote/posted an nsfw (just checked and it’s been almost a month exactly), I feel very rusty 💀 fun to write after that break tho!

cw: smut (fingering, choking mention, exhibitionism), dubcon (alcohol) - consent is key, you can’t really consent under the influence, etc. you get my drift. minors dni as always

This may as well be college all over again. But maybe with better beer. The room lights are out, save for a couple color-cycling LED strips on the walls. Soju bottles of every flavor imaginable cover nearly every open table surface at varying degrees of fullness, interspersed with empty Yakult bottles and discarded red foil wrappers. The blasting music oscillates between American top 40 and latest comeback releases, you have no clue who's managing the Spotify queue.

You're chilling out with Byulyi, sitting with your back up against the arm of the sofa as she sits facing forward with beer can in hand, her thighs covered by your knees. Both of you are relatively laid back drinkers, choosing to sit out from the random play dance that ensues every time a song comes on. You laugh together, thankful both of you have high tolerance while watching Yongsun stumble over herself on one side of the room (with Chorong at her side to steady her), Wheein and Hyejin breaking it down on the make-shift carpeted dance floor. There are others here you recognize too, although names and faces have begun muddling together in your mind, trying to think through your tipsy haze.

Byul intermittently sips her beer while lazily tracing circles over your kneecaps with her free hand, fingers trailing through the fallen condensation droplets atop them. It’s a bit of relief from the heat of the room and deep warmth from the alcohol. You’re probably a little farther gone than her, but not by much.

You lean onto her, cheek squishing into her shoulder. Her lips bump the top of your head for a kiss and she watches you instinctively turn your chin up to her, eyes pleading for a real one. Byul happily obliges, smirking against your lips when you recoil at the shock at the temperature differential created by the can. Normally you'd be the one reeling in her pda, but you’re just feeling a bit more forward tonight than usual.

Everyone at this party knows the both of you to some degree, and at minimum knows you’re together. The coolness of her lips on yours have you chasing after them, sitting up for real to press your body in closer. Normally you’d be the last person to want to kiss in public, and even less so in front of her friends, but something tonight makes you absolutely not care, whether for the alcohol or just the atmosphere. Or maybe just her?

Your fingertips approach the collar of her shirt and press in, earning you all but a groan as tingles shoot up Byul’s back, wishing your hands were just a little higher to press in a little harder. Too bad public choking's considered indecent. Setting her beer can on the arm of the couch behind you, her hands find your thighs, fingers slowly but surely working their way up. You've got a long cardigan on that drapes over your sides, thankfully long enough to more or less block out the fact that she's well on her way to passing beneath the hem of your pleated skirt.

"What are you doing?" you murmur with a smile against her lips, encircling one of her wrists with the fingers of your free hand. There's a cautionary urgency in your voice, but not enough to actually make her stop— you don't want her to.

She moves her head to the side, pressing cold-lipped kisses up your jawline. The air she blows across your ear when she gets to it sends a shiver throughout your entire body as she replies to your question—“Just having my own fun.” Good enough for you, so you bend a knee to slide your leg behind her back, now basically straddling her body from the side. You go back to kissing her again and truly, you could probably just do this all night.

Her hands continue their original task, teasingly working their way up your thighs. It’s already hot amidst the dancing people and poor apartment ventilation, but the room suddenly feels 10 degrees warmer at the prospect of being caught, but at minimum her members probably already knew what was going on if they’d taken the chance to look over.

Byul hooks her pointer finger into where your panties meet the crease of your leg, tugging the now-wet fabric away from your body and brushing the skin underneath with her knuckle.

“If you’re really doing this here, don’t you wanna go a little faster?” you hiss. There’s already sweat beading on the back of your neck in anticipation.

“Be careful what you wish for,” she warns cunningly before surprisingly obliging your request, pushing your underwear aside with her ring and pinky fingers to press her thumb to your clit. You press your lips together to avoid the audible moan that’s about to escape you, instead letting a forced breath out of your nose. “Oh c’mon, you can open your mouth for me, can’t you?” she coos.

It’s almost easier to forget there are other people around and just lose yourself in her hands, but even your tipsy mind knows better than to make a total fool of yourself. You just press your lips into her ear and whimper quietly under her touch, the sound deafening to her. It affects her more than she’d ever willingly admit, but hey, this is about you.

When she finally sinks a couple fingers into you with absolute ease, your teeth dig into her lower lip. She chuckles gloatingly through her nose at how obviously worked up you are, taunting you sweetly with a whisper. As much as you want to, you resist throwing your head back in pleasure to mitigate the risk of someone catching onto what’s happening. Instead you just focus on keeping your lips connected and bodies close, your sounds drowned out by the music but just loud enough for her. She presses a thumb to your clit, stroking down while simultaneously curling the fingers she already has inside of you.

She continues like this for a while, knowing full well what makes you absolutely fall apart at her touch. Your pants pitching higher and more ragged in her ear signal how close you are, and just before you’re about to cum she pulls her hand out from under you completely, drying her finger on the underside of your skirt’s folds.

“Ww–what? Why?” you stammer at the sudden loss of contact.

“You just asked me to go faster. Who said that meant you had to finish?” she responds with that sarcastic questioning look. “Good luck with the mess you’ve got going on down there,” waving her hand in the general vicinity of your skirt with a smirk on her face, prepping to get up off the couch.

She’s not leaving you in this state. Or rather, you’re not going to let her. You aggressively clutch her hand in yours and drag her by the arm, leading her toward the nearest empty bedroom to finish what she started.

“Get a room!” Hyejin shouts slurred as you march by. Wheein nods aggressively in agreement beside her and you can’t help but laugh in the face of your nervousness and play along, wondering if they’re just poking their usual fun or if they know what you were actually up to that entire time.

“Your wish is our command!” you holler back in her direction with a wink, whisking Byul into the open bedroom and swinging the door shut to make her finish what she started.

#sorry the gif is crusty there’s only so much I can do with free editing software #writing + posting from my phone cuz I’m on the road rn so pls bear w me #I guess choking kink byul is here to stay #mamamoo smut #moonbyul smut #requested #mamamoo x reader #girl group smut #mamamoo imagines #gg smut #mamamoo scenarios #mamamoo moonbyul #moonbyul x reader #moonbyul imagines #🌈🌈🌈 anon

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dxrkdreamer · 3 years

Text

Salvation Part 2

Sukuna had come back to be repaid for what he did for you, his original plan of terrorizing you went down the drain as he stared at a different girl from what he left and the way his heart and mind remained puzzled because of you.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Word Count: 2.3 k

Part 1

Part 3: coming soon… September 19

(A/N: Part 2 everyone! I hope you guys like this :)

Warnings: Mentions of fighting and some blood.

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

You heard stories as you started life with the newfound skills Sukuna helped you develop. The stories were enough to make adults shiver in fear, enough for them to offer their souls. But you laughed at them. Because you knew nothing, not even their soul would stop Sukuna from annihilating them if he felt like it. He didn’t need a reason. The stories of him burning down villages and torturing the inhabitants of said villages were most likely true. You heard a lot of villages began worshipping him out of their fear. It was foolish you thought, He’s just a man.

You may have not been the fittest back then, but you were one of the smartest. You knew he left you when you were 5 because he did want to kill you- but only when you were begging for your life. He wanted to enjoy the pain he’d bring upon you. But if he still wanted that he could have killed you when you were learning from him. You were happy and trusted him, and what hurts more than someone breaking your trust?

He did not want to kill you now either. You knew that. If he did, he would have done it long ago.

So you stared at him, right in his eyes as he looked down at you. Not bothering to pay attention to the other people around him, they were like maggots to him after all.

After he had left you, you lived in the same cottage and fended for yourself. It was not difficult for you to do. But eventually the meat you hunted, berries you picked and plants you harvested would start to spoil. It was too much for a young teenager so you started sharing them with the fellow orphans from your village. But after being with you, they wanted to learn how to fend for themselves too. And you taught them what he had taught you.

Eventually you had become quite popular in the village, and even the nobleman would send their children to you for martial arts lessons. Your students were skilled enough to go to the competitions held in bigger cities where people from all over the country would come to see. And your students won often.

But after 7 years of this you were bored. So when you spotted the peculiar man from your childhood during a martial arts competition your body could only bubble up with excitement inside.

The host man announced the winner and Sukuna smirked as he saw it was one of your pupils. Your name had become known since you were the first female teacher, let alone a female teacher with such a high success rate. The stories he had heard of you made his chest swell with pride… Because I was the one who taught the brat he’d tell himself at the strange feeling. He looked down and noted how much you had grown, from a scrawny preteen to a beautiful woman. Your old tattered clothes were replaced with a silk robe- a very suggestive robe with a deep neckline and the hem at the bottom just barely touching the top of your ankles. So that when you walked your lower leg would be in clear view of ongoing lookers. He knew you wore the cheeky robe on purpose, you loved the attention you got from all the gasps and looks of distaste from other females. What a lecherous woman.

As you walked over to congratulate your student, he swooped down onto the center of the stadium. Chuckling as he heard the gasps from the audience, his four arms stretched out, claws protruded, ready to attack. The sun’s rays made him appear like an ethereal being that demanded attention.

“It’s time you repaid me brat.”

The crowd went crazy, everyone running out, looking for a place to hide as fast as their legs could take them. But his focus was just on you. Your student is long gone, leaving you alone. You never taught them about loyalty so it didn’t matter.

“How can I do that?” you asked tilting your head, you spoke with such calmness it made Sukuna question if you knew who and what he was.

“By coming with me, as my servant”

“Sure” you said nonchalantly. Life was boring, he had come to save you again… from a mundane life. But nonetheless saved you even if it was not from an immediate danger. You did not feel any sympathy for your village, the label of a traitor did not bother you. The village betrayed you first by not batting an eye or offering you any form of help during your time of need. You owed Sukuna a lot, and you were not scared of him, just extremely grateful.

“Women I am taking you with me” He repeated again, slightly deadpanning. Could your pathetic human ears not hear his majestic voice? He brought down a hand and the seating of the studium tumbled down as his power slashed it. The rubble flying everywhere as debris and sand made your sight hazy.

“And I said yes” you spoke and walked towards him, stopping a few inches away where you grabbed one his arms, pulled it down and pressed his claws to the exposed skin right above your heart “You can’t kill me” you said answering the question he had not asked yet.

His arm stayed still in the girl’s hand as he looked at her curiously. When he felt you push his claws further onto your skin, enough that blood started seeping from the puncture wounds his nails created he realized it. He really could not kill you. You saw him not as a monster that terrorized innocent people in villages for his pure joy, but as a powerful man who saved you and gave you a life with purpose. You were the first acting out of love rather than fear.

The dust had cleared and the sun had become visible once again. The hot rays burning the back of his neck, it would surely burn you too if he was not standing two and a half feet taller than you, shading you from it.

“Very well then women”

“Sukuna-sama I’ve washed and hung your clothes to dry and have cleaned your quarters” he heard you say. He looked back at you from training, your cheeky robe now traded to more modest apparel. A yukata that would not expose your ankles or your chest, in fact the fabric would sometimes drag on the floor and the neckline was almost choking you. You hated it, but that was all the more reason for him to make you wear it.

It had been about 2 weeks since he “kidnapped you”, he called it but youd respond saying you went willingly- which was the truer of the two stories. Cleaning and cooking and doing the basic servant duties. Normally you’d hate this more than your previous lifestyle, but with Sukuna-sama there was always some excitement. Mostly watching him have trouble with the most basic things and yelling out to you to “fix the mess” in disguise of needing help.

He grunted in response but noticed you settling down, back resting against a tree trunk and you sat in the soft grass he had not wrecked yet. “Woman, have you finished everything?”

“Yes Sukuna-sama” perplexed he brainstormed for another task he could give you but came up with none on the spot.

“Spar with me.”

“What?” You looked up, mouth open as you stared at him. Had you heard him correct?

“I should not have to repeat my words for my servant to do as she is asked.”

Oh.

You stood up hesitantly and walked up in front of him, standing face to face as you took your position. He on the other hand lifted one set of hands so his head could lean back at them, the other lazily at his sides.

You ran up to him, getting ready to punch him, which he stopped with one hand grabbing your fist, so you took it as an opportunity to kick him. But this outfit made it very difficult for you to do as you were thrown to the ground.

“Have you grown weaker?” he mocked. This time with more fire in your body you stood up, ripping the bottom of the dress off, exposing your knees. And you ran forward again, now with more mobility.

What the…. He stared at your exposed legs as you ran, he was distracted allowing you to land a harsh kick at his side making him stumble and fall.

An even score, 1-1.

Dumbfounded he looked up at you, you smirked but deep down you were just as surprised as he was.

“Brat” he mumbled, standing up, stretching his limbs. “One more time” he smirked at you before charging at you with speed. It caught you off guard and you only recovered a second before his right fist came right down at you, giving you just enough time to block it with your forearm, pushing his hand to the side. His left hand was already moving, but you were too and you blocked it again. He was fast and you knew he was not at his full speed, he jumped clasping his other set of hands together as he brought them down on you but you dodged again, jumping back creating a gap of a few meters between you two. You ran to him your fist ready to make contact against his smug face, but he caught your fist and swung you around before throwing you against some trees, the force breaking the tree as you went flying into the trees behind it, each tree falling as your back crashed into them, finally stopping as the force faded.

“Ughhh what was that...'' you groaned trying to move, but your back was in too much pain, and you felt like the bones in your body had all changed places and were swimming around in whatever blood was left in you. In your clouded vision you saw him approach you, tsking and sitting down on a fallen trunk.

This move was different, you knew that much. More powerful? But how and why?

“That had cursed energy in it,” he simply said.

“Cursed energy? What’s that?” you asked confused, your brows furrowing up. “Like curses?” you had heard about those but only thought of them as wive tales.

“Curses are apparitions made from cursed energy” he said, watching carefully as your eyes lit up with curiosity. “The energy is a manifestation of negative emotions”

You nodded pretending to understand what he was going on about.

“Tsk let me show you women” he said.

This marked the next part of your training from him, he taught you how to manipulate your own cursed energy to the point you could also see these apparitions and use it to your advantage.

And you grew stronger than ever before, much to his delight.

Throughout the time spent with you, Sukuna began growing fond of you, he enjoyed your presence. To the point he rushed through his usual escapades of terrorizing the lives of people. He’d perk up watching you look through the many offerings he received, picking through them and smiling in excitement when something caught your eye and you’d beg him to let you have it.

“You seem deep in thought?” your soft voice asked from across the room, you were sitting on a floor cushion, mending one of his robes using a needle and thread. It was getting late, the sun was setting and the colors spilled into the room, lighting you up in it’s warmth. You looked ethereal, he thought, taking in the sight of you. You were humming quietly, your eyes focused on the needle, your hands holding the soft fabric of the robe you had picked out for him, your legs tucked underneath you towards the side, the skirt of your dress riding up to reveal your legs. His eye twitched.

“When did I allow you to wear such skanky clothes?”

“Sukuna-sama it's just so much easier to move in these” you argued. He scoffed looking away, but looking at you through the corner of his eye.

“You’re nice to be around women” he grunted.

“Sorry, what?” you lowered your head, hair spilling over your face to hide your grin.

‘I’ll cut your useless ears off myself once you’re done with my robe.’ he tried saying, but he couldn’t lie to you. As he opened his mouth to attempt to say it again he felt the futon dip as you sat near him, placing his finished robe to the side.

“Are you saying you like me?”

“If I didn’t like you I would have killed you and smeared your blood all over the filthy village you came from”

“So you do like me.” How annoying he thought

“Why must I always repeat myself around you, I should just slash you up right now” he says as he lifts his finger, expecting you to dodge it but you sit there not defending yourself as his power cuts through the cloth and flesh over your shoulder, you just grinned up at him. You were so troublesome, getting hurt for his attention. Leaving the room he came back with water, a cloth and some gauze. As he sat down to clean the wound he inflicted you laid your head in his lap, legs sprawled out as he cleaned the wound.

“Hey” you whispered, lifting your hand up and caressing his jaw with gentle fingers “I like you too”.

“I didn’t ask”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fics #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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t-o-m-hollands · 3 years

Text

Chapter eight

Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You knew each other as children, before everything changed. Now your paths cross again.

Pairing: Tom and female reader.

Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, one hit to the head. Smut. I mean, it’s a mob!AU so generally just a lot of talking of murder, fighting and violence. THIS IS A +18 STORY.

Word count: 5k. Sorry, but this is an eventful chapter so got a bit long. I didn’t want it to end in a cliffhanger so I sort of had to go on a bit

An absolute massive thank you to @plantlungs for being an amazing editor and for having the patient of a saint and correct all my misplaced commas and confused word choices.

READ PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

Recap of the story so far: Tom is part of and working himself up in the Firm; the feared London gang. Its leader is a certain Fabien Towner. After an attack on Harrison it’s clear that they have a traitor in their midst who is also working for the rival gang created by a man called Jack Flanagan. While Tom is trying to bring the attacker in for questioning he meets you; his old school love (and unfortunately for him, the daughter of the home secretary who has spent most of his career trying to put an end to organized crime). After an interesting night where you end up as a witness for a murder Tom essentially has to kidnap you until he knows what to do with you. Ending up deciding to let you live, and in doing so risking his own life, he lies to Fabien about there being no witness to the crime.

Some time later you and Tom meet again at the club Romantique, as Tom has gone there to negotiate with Jack Flanagan. You go home with Tom that night and the two of you begin an affair. Fabien, finding out about the affair and of who your father is, is delighted, thinking that he can use you as leverage to the home secretary.

Not many days later Tom is attacked by Flanagan’s gang, and he flees to your house where you patch him up. He tells you of Fabien’s plan, and asks you to work with him in order to bring the traitor in – the only thing that can possibly distract the Firm’s leader from you. You agree to help him.

***

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

arsonist's lullaby - hozier

***

You wake with a kiss to your forehead. Opening your heavy eyelids, you’re met with a smile, and a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

“Morning” Tom says quietly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his usual suit, hair fixed and the outlining of a gun showing underneath his suit jacket.

“Good morning,” you respond, voice soft and full of sleep. Sitting up in the soft bed and pulling the sheets around you, you lean closer towards him. Gently you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his skin you feel the faint trace of stubble. He smells of his lemon and cedar soap and faintly of cigarettes. Pressing your lips softly against his other cheek, and then on his jawline, you whisper against his skin, “Do you really have to go?”

You can tell he’s focusing on his breathing, and as you lean back his dark eyes, glossed over and pupils dilated, are focused on your lips. His own mouth is slightly opened, and he’s leaning in towards you. Just as he’s about to press his lips against yours he murmurs, “Afraid so, darling.” He leans back and winks at you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give you everything you want soon enough.”He stands up and moves towards the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, just doing some collecting today; shouldn’t be more than an hour. I’ll come back and we’ll have lunch, yeah?”

He’s leaned against the doorway, hands in suit pockets, the stolen Rolex on his wrist glistening in the early morning light coming in through the window. He’s all wicked smiles and dimples and his eyes are gleaming as he looks at you; sitting in the middle of the bed, white sheets pulled around you and hair loose, your skin kissed by the sun streaming in.

You smile back at him and letting go of the sheets you let them fall around you. Leaning back against your elbows you slowly spread your bent legs; looking at him all the while. He’s got his dark eyes fixated on where your spread legs meet. Slowly walking towards you, like a hunter approaching its prey. Reaching the bed he leans over it, grabs hold of your thighs, and pulls you towards him until he’s pressed up against your naked crotch. Leaning over you, hands resting on either side of your face, he whispers in a low voice against your lips, “Such a devious little temptress, aren’t you?”

He leans back and falls down on his knees. Kissing the soft inside of your thigh he bites the sensitive skin, leaving a wet and burning spot, he blows cold air on it and you shiver. He looks up at you, wicked smile in place and eyes sparkling with pleasure. “You could tempt a saint you know?” he says, voice thick with bewildered wonder as he presses his soft lips against your cunt, before licking up your slit, eagerly. “How’s a poor devil like me supposed to stand a chance?”

***

There’s a flickering light above your head and the hallway smells of something rotten. The dark medallion wallpaper and crimson-coloured carpet make it feel like the room is spinning slightly around you.

You’re just about to carefully lock the door to Tom’s apartment, having decided to go home and change before lunch, when you hear a creaking on the floor behind you. Something like alarm bells go off in your head, and you turn around only to be hit with something heavy and sharp right by your mouth.

A ringing in your ear, and the whole room seems to change perspective, turn on its side somehow. It takes you a second to realize that it isn’t the room that has fallen; it is you. Something above you moves, but you can’t see clearly, just the outlines of a blurred shadow coming closer and closer and a smell you can’t place but is stronger than the rotten smell of the hallway. And then a wet cloth covers your mouth.

Memories of when you were a child, swimming in the municipal pool, flash before your eyes and you can’t understand why.

Only, just before everything turns dark, does it hit you.

Chloroform.

***

The first thing your mind registers as you wake is a sore neck. A sore neck and a stinging nose and a back that feels uncomfortably stiff. You try to open your eyes but find the world just as dark as when you had them closed. Trying to move your hands you realize that they have been tied behind the uncomfortable chair you’ve been placed in.

Panic rises like bile in your throat and you want to scream, but the sound refuses to leave your lips, as if the panic itself is blocking it from leaving. Trying to kick your legs you realize that they too have been bound.

“She’s awake,” someone mutters behind you and you freeze, heart beating so hard in your chest that it’s hard to hear anything but the blood rushing through your system. “Go tell Jack,” the voice orders, and a pair of heavy footsteps move across the floor and soon a door opens and shuts.

Laying all your focus on your breathing, trying not to hyperventilate, you try to keep in control of yourself, though you can feel sweat begin to form on your forehead. You feel hyper- aware of your own body, of the rope digging into the fragile skin of your wrists, of the hard chair underneath you, of your own mortality and the dangerous situation you are in. You had been in a situation like this before, in a now very familiar apartment in Mile’s End. But even though you had been frightened then, it is nothing compared to the terror that grips hold of you now.

Soon a door opens, and footsteps move across the floor again.

“Now boys, is this the way you treat a lady?” A deep voice roars in an Irish brogue. “Have I taught you no manners?” The footsteps move closer and closer until they’re standing behind you.

“You big lads so scared of a girl you need to tie her up?” You hear how the man fiddles with something, only to realise that he’s untying the rope around your legs. Soon you feel the rope loose; but you are too frightened to even try to move them out of their uncomfortable position.

“Now unless you think this tied- up wench will overpower me, I suggest you get a fucking move on, yeah?” the man continues, as he frees your wrists as well.

No verbal answer follows, just the sound of a dozen of boots moving across the floor until eventually, the door shuts; leaving the room in silence apart from your ragged breaths and rabbit heart; pounding so hard in your chest you’re sure it’s clear for anyone to hear.

Then there’s a sudden movement by your head and then – you can see again.

Disoriented you blink into the light. The man, Jack you presume, pulls a chair across the floor, the scraping noise almost alarmingly loud to your panicked senses, and he sits down opposite you. Carefully you move your stiff hands from their position behind your back, slowly moving them to your front and placing them on your knees.

“There we go,” Jack says in a low, gruff voice that tells of years of smoking.

He’s probably in his early fifties, with blond hair that has begun to turn white and a neatly trimmed beard. A long scar is etched across his cheek. Wearing a rather worn grey suit he’s leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and comfortable; the very opposite to how you are feeling. There’s something both harmless and, at the same time, absolutely terrifying about him. He’s almost disarming in his lack of threats, his slow, low way of talking and the patient, curious way he’s looking at you. You can’t get a read of the man, and that frightens you.

The room you’re in doesn’t help to make you feel more comfortable. It looks like an abandoned old apartment, wallpapers half torn down and a broken chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s dark outside the dirty window, and you wonder for how long you’ve been unconscious. An entire day must have passed since this morning.

“Now girl, you and I are gonna have a little chat about an old friend of mine,” he starts.

You don’t respond, waiting for him to reveal his hand before you make up your mind about how to play your cards with this unknown man.

“Now, child,” he continues, “what do you know of Fabien Towner?”

You’re taken aback at that. Somehow, subconsciously, you must have assumed that this kidnapping by this evident gangster had something to do with your father and his work as home secretary. That you had been picked out to provide information about a man you had never as much as laid eyes on had not occurred to you.

“All I know is what’s written in the newspapers.” You answer, only somewhat truthfully, since Tom has told you a few things about the feared London mobster as well.

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound, “do I look like the sort of man who reads the papers?” He’s smiling at you, though it seems malignant. You are reminded of a cat, playing with its food before it eats it. “I know better than to believe a word that's written in them,” he adds and grins, “after all, they write that I’m a bad man.”

“But alright then, let’s play that game,” he snaps, and the sudden change from almost playful to deadly serious has your heart faltering in your chest. “What do you know of a young mister Tom Holland, hm?”

If your heart was faltering in your chest before, it positively stops beating now. Your first instinct is to deny your knowledge of Tom’s existence. To say you’ve never heard that name. But you must keep your head cold, be calm and clever. This man knows very well that you know who Tom is, you were after all attacked when leaving his apartment.

“Not much,” you say, and your voice is frailer than you’d hoped. “He’s just a man I’ve been seeing”.

Jack’s hard, blue eyes are fixed on yours. He observes you for a while before saying, “You seemed very cozy with him at Romantique. I’m the owner of that club, I damn well know who frequents it, and what they get up to in it.”

It hits you then, and you want to groan at how slow you’ve been. This is Jack, the Jack Flanagan, the owner of club Romantique and Fabien’s sworn enemy, who has infiltrated the Firm with a traitor.

“Yes, I met Tom there, but I don’t know anything about Fabien Towner.”

Jack keeps his intense eyes fixed on you, as if he’s trying to read any slight change in your face. He scratches the roughened skin of his scarred cheek almost absentmindedly. “Come on now, I know how young men work when they’re trying to impress a pretty girl. They boast about how big and bad and ballsy they are. He’s told you about his,” and there’s a slight pause and a wicked grin before he continues, “profession, I presume?”

“All I know is he’s part of the Firm,” you say and sniff, “do you think he’d tell me anything? I’m just some girl he fucks. I don’t think he cares at all about me.” Your voice breaks as you speak, and two tears fall down your cheeks as you lie. They aren’t hard to fabricate in your current state of mind. You need to make him believe that Tom would never spill any secrets to you, because if this man in front of you,; his entire aura shouting of danger, finds any hint of the secrets stuck in your throat he’s bound to beat them out of you.

“Now that’s not a very nice thing to do,” Jack says in a low voice, and a smile spreads over his lips. “How would you like some revenge?”

Fear holds such a hard grip on your heart then that you are sure it’s bound to stop beating altogether. “What do you mean?” you ask, trying to hide your terror.

Jack smiles even wider, and something like a shiver moves up your spine. “You see,” he starts in his broad brogue, “old Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. He’s a, well, I guess you can say a friend of mine. I know him well. I know what makes him tick.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his widespread legs, his intense eyes still fixed on yours. “Now I want him to stop ticking.”

Trying to swallow down the panic you answer in a cool voice, “and how could I possibly help with that?”

“Like I said, Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. But he’s got a blind spot when it comes to that lad. I’ve heard the rumours; the Devil’s Boy, that’s what they call him, and that’s the way Fabien sees him. I’ve met Tom, on the night you danced with him in my nightclub in fact. And he's brought up by the devil alright,” he pauses, a grim smile on his face. “In order to get to Fabien, I need to get to the boy. And that’s where you come in, miss. See, Tom is Fabien’s weakness, so I’m gonna need you to become Tom’s weakness.”

“And how do you expect me to achieve that?” you ask, voice shaking slightly despite all your efforts to keep it under control. You feel like you’re trembling all over, like your very soul is rattling inside of you. Nothing seems real, nothing in this nightmarish scenario or in this strange room; nothing except for those bleak, intense eyes looking at you, and that low, gruff voice speaking of betrayal of the worst kind.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Like a little bird. I’m sure you could convince him to stick around, to open up; to trust you. Then all this little bird needs to do is fly to me and sing her song, and I shall see to the rest, and you will have your revenge.”

You feel ice-cold all over, as if the blood itself in your veins have frozen. “And what kind of song does the bird sing? What is it that you need to know from me?”

“For now, I just need you to make him trust you. When the time is right, when everything is ready to be set in motion, I shall tell you the plan. What do you say?”

You don’t know if he’s honestly offering you a choice or not, if he’d even let you live if you refused him, but slowly you nod your head, and the smile grows bigger on his face, and his cold, blue eyes sparkle.

“Good,” he says, and rises from his chair. “Now it’s time for this little bird to be set free.”

***

Your legs feel unsteady and unsure underneath you as you make your way up the familiar steps to your house. You can hear the car that dropped you off drive away, but you don’t look back, you don’t ever want to look back again but it feels like you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder after this. You feel heavy all over, every limb slowly moving forward underneath the weight, burdened with a terrible secret.

Letting yourself in, you quietly make your way through the hall, wanting to avoid seeing anyone since that would mean you’d have to explain your split lip and your sore wrists. The skin of your lip pulses uncomfortably. You must have attained the injury this morning as you got attacked outside of Tom’s apartment.

With quiet feet you move up the stairs to your bedroom, needing only to change your clothes and leave a message for your father to let him know you will be sleeping at a friend’s house for a night or two. You jot the message down in spidery letters, so unlike your normally neat handwriting; your hands refusing to collaborate with you as they keep shaking. You leave the message on your desk, knowing that Mason will find it later and pass the information on to your father.

You fill the bathtub with water and scented oil, needing to wash the reminders of today off of you before you are ready to face Tom. Quickly ridding yourself out of your dirty dress, you step into the lukewarm water and start the process of scrubbing your skin clean. After having washed up, you change into another dress, feeling great relief in feeling the freshly washed fabric against your skin.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you cannot help but be taken aback at the sight. You have a split and swollen lip, your hair is a mess and your eyes seem bigger than normal; as if you are a frightened animal. Knowing there is nothing to do about the lip you try to smooth your hair, before giving up, deciding instead to pin it up into something a little more respectable.

In your new dress and hair, you look a little more put together, though your eyes remain frightened.

Packing a small bag with some essential clothes and hygiene products you creep out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you. Your father’s voice booms out from the library, as he’s speaking on the telephone with someone. Passing the door on your tiptoes, as not to make a sound, a name caught your attention.

“Yes, Fabien’s boy.”

You stop dead in your tracks, listening carefully as your father goes on. “He’s been causing uproar in all the underworld. He set fire to a pub in Camden this afternoon, one of Flanagan’s places, and he’s been involved in a dozen fights all over the East End.”

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to be quiet as your father keeps talking. “No, apparently he’s looking for some woman. A kidnapping they say.” Your father listens as the voice on the other side of the phone speaks before he keeps going. “Yes, of course, but if this means we have another gang war on our hands there needs to be readjustments.

You walk away, as quickly and quietly as you can, and step back out into the night. Never have you been in such a hurry to find a taxi in your life.

***

After having paid the driver, you rush up to Tom’s apartment, all four stairs, never slowing for a moment. You’re not sure of what you’re about to meet in the apartment but as you push the door open and rush inside you are relieved to see the figure of a man standing there.

Only to soon realise that it is not Tom.

The man is blond, and about the same age as Tom and dressed much the same in a dark suit. One of his arms is wrapped up in bandages. You recognize him as the man who came to pick Tom up the morning after you spent your first night at his place. A friend then, and not a foe.

He stands up from the sofa when he sees you, and smiles, seemingly relieved. “Thank fuck,” he mutters, moving closer. Standing in front of you, impressive in his length and stature, he observes your wounded face with a frown.

“Any other injuries?” He asks, voice collected but underneath his calm stature, you think you can sense a wave of anger.

You shake your head, unsure of what to say.

He nods, takes a gentle hand on your arm and leads your numb body to the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down. After you have done so he moves across the floor to the phone, his long legs taking wide strides. Dialing in a number he stands there, leaning against the wall, still observing you as he waits for the number to go through.

“Yeah, Harry? It’s Haz,” he says into the phone. “She’s here.”

There’s a loud voice on the other end of the line but you can’t make out what it is saying. “Yeah, yeah, well you need to let him know then, don’t you? Before he causes any more damage.” More silence as he listens to the other man. “No, apart from a split lip she’s unharmed,” and he looks over you again as he speaks, “she looks pretty fucking shaken though so get a fucking move on, yeah?” He hangs up.

In your wild haze of suffocating numbness, it strikes you how unlike Tom this Haz is, despite your first confusion. His accent is polished and posh despite his attempts to hide it. His back is almost impossibly straight as he’s holding himself upright and his young face looks taut. You wonder how a young man like this ended up within the ranks of the Firm.

He crouches down in front of you as you sit on the sofa, his knees bent until you are at eye level. “Have you had anything to eat?” He asks in a soft voice that takes you with surprise.

“No,” you mumble, only realizing now that it’s the case. But you’ve been so full of terror the entire day you’ve hardly even noticed. Haz has a frown on his face and a worried look in his eyes as he scans you over.

“Alright,” he sighs and gets up, moving across the room to the kitchen. You keep your eyes ahead, fixated on faded wallpaper in front of you, as you hear clattering and muttered swears coming from the kitchen.

Some while later Haz is back, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. “Sorry,” he says, placing it down on the table in front of you, “fucker hasn’t got any milk.”

You tell him you don’t mind, and thank him for his kindness, before tucking in. Only after having nearly devoured the first sandwich do you fully realize how hungry you’ve been. Haz sits down on the worn leather armchair, leaned forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in his lap. It is as if he’s ready to jump into action on the first sign of danger. He watches as you eat.

“Hungry, ey?” He asks with a smile, as you swallow the last of your sandwich, reaching for the tea.

“Famished,” you confess.

For a few moments everything is silent in the darkened room, only lit up by the dim light coming from the kitchen. Outside you hear a car drive by.

“How did he know of the abduction?” You ask in the end.

Haz’s mouth tightens into a grimace, as if remembering something unpleasant. “The landlady saw as they carried you out to the car. She recognized you as Tom’s girl and let him know as soon as he came back.”

“How did he take it?” you ask, with reluctance.

Haz looks away from you, avoids your eyes; the frown on his face growing deeper. “Let’s just say the boy’s got a talent for destruction when he puts his mind to it.”

“Where is he now?”

“Well, last I heard he was,” he pauses, edits himself in the search for the right word, “he was interrogating someone in Hackney, trying to find a lead of where they took you,” he sighs. And then in a bitter tone, he adds, “I would have gone with him,” another sigh, “but out of combat, unfortunately. So I was put to stay here and wait to see if you’d return. Harry was placed in the pub, much to his indignation; ever the boy of action, while Fabien made Sam and a few others go after Tom. To try and reel him in a little.”

A bang, and then Tom comes crashing through the door. Harrison is on his feet, almost before you’ve registered the sound of the door slamming against the wall, gun in hand and aiming at the man in the hall. When he sees who it is he lowers the weapon and breathes out.

Your eyes remain fixed on the man striding over to you. It’s like he’s unable to look away from you and as soon as you get within an arm's reach he pulls you towards him. With a hand carefully cupping your chin, he inspects your face, eyes glued to your split lip, a deep frown on his face.

He turns to Harrison, who just nods at him; the taut frown relaxing and a smile pulling at his lips. “Alright, that’s me done for the night.”

“Harry’s sulking at the pub if you feel like cheering him up,” Tom tells him, still holding onto you.

Harrison moves to the door, snorts loudly, and says in a voice that sounds done for, “You fucking Holland boys and your goddamn sulking.” And then he’s out, the door closing behind him.

Tom rests his forehead against yours, breathing slowly. “Hi,” he says, voice a quiet whisper. His fingers don’t stop stroking your cheek for a second. Then, “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” It’s a savage kind of remorse, real like a physical presence in the room. To think that on this very morning you had laid in bed, wordlessly tempting him into staying there with you for a while.

You should have stayed in that bed forever with him.

“Is it not your fault,” you tell him, knowing that it’s useless, and true enough, he shakes his head at the idea.

A deep sigh escapes him, as if he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding for a long time. You breathe him in, the familiar lemon and cedar soap; the faint trace of smoke.

“Tonight I’m going to take care of you,” he says, stroking your cheek with his long, ring- clad finger, “gonna make sure that you’re alright.” He presses his lips softly against your temple. “And tomorrow,” he continues, voice hardened steel now, “tomorrow I’m going to take care of him.”

“No,” you say softly, looking at the floor.

Dead silence wills the room for several heartbeats. Then, voice bewildered, “What?”

He’s leaning away from you, though his big hands are still covering your jawline, your throat. “You can’t go after him,” you say, taking a slow breath, staring at his shoes. Slowly you take in Tom’s appearance for the first time. When he had crashed into the apartment all your attention had been on his face, but now, now you see the state of him. The once white dress shirt he wore this morning is stained with blood and dirt and the sleeve on his jacket has a burn mark.

Tom pushes your face up to meet his eyes. Reluctantly your eyes follow. “And why can’t I do that?” he asks slowly, through gritted teeth.

“Because I’m working for him now,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. For a moment he goes completely still and before he can react you keep going. “He is going after Fabien, he wants to bring him down. He thinks you are Fabien’s weakness, so he’s hired me to become your weakness. He wants to use you against Fabien, and use me against you. I told him yes.”

Tom lets go of you, takes a step away from you, looks at you with big, wounded eyes. “What have you done?” he asks, sounding almost defeated.

“I could play this to our advantage, we could -” but he interrupts you with a roar.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? You don’t know these men! You don’t understand what they’re capable of. They’d enjoy murdering you if it comes to that. Jack Flanagan’s the sort of man that would kill over an insult, do you have any fucking idea how badly he’d take a betrayal?”

“Don’t you understand?” I am working for him now, just as the traitor does. I can find out who it is and once we know, Fabian will kill the traitor and once he is gone he can go after Jack with full force. We can play them against each other, don’t you get it?”

Tom is stunned silent for a moment, thinking over what you’ve said with a horrified expression on his face. “Does he know, does Jack know who your father is?”

You are silent for a long time, biting your lip in worry. “I don’t know. But I think so. I didn’t have to leave my name or address and they still knew where to drop me off.”

Tom looks pale. His eyes big and glossy as he looks at you, shoulders tense as he’s holding himself together. “I see,” he says, trying to remain calm, “so the two most dangerous men in London are aware of your relation to your father and are both more than capable at using that as leverage if needed.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you whisper.

And he’s in front of you again, holding onto your face, his body pressed tightly against yours, and maybe it’s imagination, but you think you can feel the drumming of his heartbeat underneath his chest; can feel your heart drum back to the beat of his. He’s breathing hard, slowly in and out, and his strong body is rigid, every nerve tense. You know that he’s trying to calm himself down; trying to get a hold of himself and all his fear and anger. Can feel it radiating off his body in waves.

“I can do this, I can play them against each other.” You don’t know why you are whispering, except that maybe you want to make something in this whole situation gentle, in any way you know how.

“I don’t like this, angel,” he says, his voice also a whisper, as he breathes slowly through his nose. “I really fucking hate this.”

You know that the road you have begun walking is a dangerous one, no doubt full of menace and doom. But you have chosen your road. “I know,” you whisper back, “but it’s the best shot we’ve got.”

You know, as you stroke his cheek, that you would do anything for him. Because it turns out that you are made up of the kind of never yielding devotion that is bound to end in tragedy, but as you look into his sad, brown eyes, tender as they look at you, you wonder if he isn’t made of the same.

#tom holland #mob!tom #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine

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trulymadlysydney · 4 years

Text

Scorpio Season: One

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It had started with a simple knock on her bedroom door.

Misty Garland was sitting and reading on her bed the first time she’d heard it. It was a windy fall day, the slightest bit of sun poking through the clouds every so often. Her sorority sisters had thought it was the perfect weather to go day-drink over at the Kappa house. Misty thought she would rather die.

Her knee-jerk reaction had been to call out a soft “Come in!” to the knocking visitor. But it wasn’t until after the words left her lips that it hit her-- she was home alone.

It wasn’t something that could be passed off as the creaking of the walls of the old house, or the knocking of a branch against the window. No, it was a clear, distinct knock, as if someone were trying to get her attention.

Intrigued, she’d set her book down and padded barefoot across the floor. “Hello?” She’d called out half-heartedly, knowing perfectly well that it was in vain. Cautiously, she’d turned the gold knob and pushed her squeaking door open, only to be met with an empty hallway. Just as she’d expected.

It should have worried her. She should’ve been frightened or at the very least, slightly alarmed. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t any of those things.

If anything, she was intrigued.

A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped out into the hallway. One half of her brain reminded her that this could very well be one of her sisters who’d chosen to stay home instead of blacking out on Strawberitas and Jungle Juice with creepy guys. If that were the case, however annoying it would be, she decided she’d laugh it off. Chalk it up to a harmless, albeit immature prank. She’d get whoever it was back, in tenfold.

However, that was not the case.

After searching the entire house top to bottom, (even going so far as to enter all of her sister’s rooms uninvited) Misty came to the equally exciting and somewhat disconcerting conclusion that she was, in fact, home alone.

For the rest of the evening, she waited for a second knock that never came. She spoke, whispered, even shouted into the void, calling upon whatever dark spirit that had seemingly taken up temporary residence in her sorority home.

When only half of her sisters returned home that evening (with the other half apparently electing to stay with their respective boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, etc) she’d gone back and forth debating if she should mention it to anyone. Ultimately, however, she’d decided that explaining it was not a good use of her time. So she’d gone to bed early, hoping to hear another knock.

Another knock never came.

It was about a week later that her attention was caught again. It wasn’t from a knocking, but from a gentle thud against the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

Misty had been in the kitchen, washing the dishes that had been slowly accumulating in her room for the past few nights of mid study-sesh snacks. The house was fairly quiet that evening, save for the television in the living room and the chattering of gigging girls in the dining room-- obviously doing more chit-chatting than studying.

She’d been zoned out, lost deep in her thoughts when she’d heard it. Something in the pantry had fallen. Assuming it was a clumsy sister, she’d turned around to help clean up-- only to find that no one had been there at all.

There it was, though-- a loaf of bread that had fallen from the top shelf and landed in a spot that, according to physics, it wouldn’t have logically been able to land.

Misty glanced around the kitchen nervously, unsure of whether or not she should even dare touch the bread. She cleared her throat, becoming more and more aware of the lump growing there. She willed her brain to come up with something to say, anything, but all she could force out of her mouth was, “I… who…?”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what type of response she was expecting, so she wasn’t surprised when she was met with none at all. Her eyes had darted between the bread and the sink, which she’d left running, as her brain tried with all of its might to explain this situation in a logical manner.

She held her breath, waiting to see if it would move again while her heart pounded loudly in her ears. There was no way she could have imagined this, because there it sat, plain as the nose on her face. With a deep breath and another hurried glance around the room, Misty took a step forward, slower than she’d ever moved in her life. She craned her neck to see if there was anyone in the pantry (of course there wasn’t) and willed her heart to stop thumping so loudly. Surely there had to be an explanation for this. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe she had left a window open and it was windy outside.

A loud laugh came from the dining room then, nearly startling Misty out of her skin. She gasped, whirling around only to quickly realize that the sound was no more than a sister, laughing at a joke presented by another sister. Because of course.

Misty sighed, shaking her head at herself and rolling her eyes at how jumpy she was. For heaven’s sake, it was just a loaf of bread.

She walked to the bread, picking it up to return it to its rightful home in the pantry and allowing herself no further thoughts about the incident. Whatever it was, there was no logical explanation. And some things, Misty thought, were just better off that way. She was comfortable not knowing what had caused the bread to fall. Maybe she would never know. And she was okay with that.

Or so she thought.

The final time Misty had heard it had been the most prominent sign, and the one thing that had tipped her over the edge. It was a night not unlike any other, and Misty was tucked up into bed. She’d elected to keep the window open while she slept, because the weather that day had been perfect-- not hot, but not too chilly either. The perfect weather to cuddle up under a blanket. Misty loved it.

So there she was, nightlight on and covers pulled up to her ears. The sheets smelled like the lavender spray she spritzed all over her bed each night, and although it was familiar and comforting, she couldn’t help but notice that tonight smelled slightly different. The sheets smelled almost spicy, like cinnamon, and although it seemed a bit odd, Misty didn’t spare much more of a thought about it as she yawned most ungracefully.

In the spot between sleep and consciousness, Misty’s ears buzzed. She could feel herself slipping into fully numbed relaxation, her thoughts coming in and out of focus like waves. She knew she was about to be pulled completely under and slip into a dream that was already beginning to form in her brain… and then she heard it.

“Misty.”

Loud and clear.

Immediately, her eyes shot open. As her full consciousness came quickly back to her, she sat up in her bed, eyes scanning the dimly lit room for the source of the voice. Her blood ran cold as she waited in anticipation to see something-- a shadow, a full figure, anything-- but as she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t tell whether she was terrified, relieved, or annoyed to be met with absolutely nothing.

“Is someone there?”

The only sound she was met with was her own breathing, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Look, I know you’re here,” she said slowly, absentmindedly fidgeting with the sheets as she waited for a response. “And I’m… not scared of you.”

It wasn’t really a lie, of course; she wasn’t scared so much as intrigued. Truthfully, even as a little girl this sort of thing had always fascinated her. She’d always felt she had a special and strange connection to the other side. But it had been ages since she’d really tapped into it, and now that she was practically face to face (so to speak) with what she assumed--and hoped-- was a spirit, she was feeling, at the very least, overwhelmed.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, voice a bit louder than before. “I’m not scared.” Nothing. “You’ve been messing with me for like, a while now. And I want you to know I hear you.” Nothing. “You don’t have to hide yourself.”

And still, nothing.

Misty sighed. “You know, I think it’s pretty rude of you to not introduce yourself. You just show up and wake me up when I’m almost asleep and then ignore me? You throw stuff around, you knock on the walls and the doors and stuff, and for what? Just so you can get a laugh?”

When she was met once again with the deafening sound of silence, she rolled her eyes. Misty reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes with a finger and gave her room one last scan before speaking again. “I’ll get you to talk,” she says, “one way or another. Don’t think I won’t.”

Nothing.

“This is a threat.”

Nothing.

Misty shook her head, laying back down in her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. It really was a threat. She had read about ways to contact spirits her entire life, but she’d never actually been brave enough to try any of them. In fact, in all honesty, the thought of doing it now still scared her a bit. Nevertheless, this spirit intrigued her. And as Misty drifted somewhat uneasily into sleep once again, she went over the different ways she was going to try and contact them to know once and for all what it was they had to say.

Which is how Misty finds herself where she is now.

Currently, Misty sits alone in the attic of the old sorority house, setting up for a ritual that she’s never been brave enough to try. The attic is old and a bit stuffy, and Misty coughs as she crawls along the dusty floor into the center of a circle of unlit candles. In hindsight, Misty realizes that the ritual doesn’t really need to be performed up here, considering that she does have the entire house to herself this evening. Still, it seems fitting-- the perfect amount of spooky while still being in a somewhat well- lit and cozy area.

The sky outside is a dark blue, bright enough for her to be able to see her surroundings just barely; and as she glances around in the darkness, she notices that one of the candles in her circle is slightly out of place. She reaches forward to adjust the candle, then takes a deep breath in through her nose to steady and ground herself before reaching into her pocket for a small green lighter.

“Alright,” she says, reaching forward to begin lighting the candles one by one. “It’s just you and me here. And you will show yourself to me one way or another, alright? Nice and easy.”

As she works her way around the circle, lighting each and every candle, Misty prays that the spirit is a kind one. Maybe a sister from the very beginning of her sorority’s chapter. Maybe a lost child trying to find their way to the other side. Maybe--

“OW, fuck!” Misty yelps when she accidentally burns her finger lighting one of the last candles in the circle. She sticks the finger in her mouth to wet it, then pulls it out and shakes it violently, trying desperately to ease the pain.

Misty sighs in frustration at the slight inconvenience of her throbbing finger, then finishes lighting the final candle in the circle. She glances around, pleased with her work, before settling herself in the direct center of the candles, cross legged and as relaxed as she can possibly be.

She tries her hardest to calm her pounding heart. Everything she’d read online about this process had highly recommended getting a professional medium-- one who wasn’t going to get anxious and mess up the process. Misty, of course, did not have access to that. So here she is.

Taking another deep, slow breath-- in through her nose and out through her mouth-- Misty allows herself to sit in the stillness for a few beats. She feels her heart rate slow down, and she takes another breath. Reaching beside her quietly, so as not to disturb the peace that is washing over the room, she picks up one of the stones she’s brought up here for protection.

The small stone feels rough and cold in her hand, and she squints down at it to make sure it’s the stone she wanted. It’s light purple color tells her that it’s an amethyst, and she focuses intently on it for a few moments before taking another long breath-- in through her nose, out through her mouth.

Misty holds the amethyst in her palm, allowing herself to really observe the feeling of it. She focuses on the weight of the stone in her hand, and the way the cool, rocky underside feels against her sweaty palm. She tries to focus on the energy she can feel from the rock, envisioning it surrounded in a glowing white light. She stays like this for a while, and when she’s certain she can actually feel the warm light that she’s envisioning, she clears her throat gently and speaks.

“I dedicate this crystal to the highest good of all. May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lets her words hang in the air for a few moments before repeating them, three more times. After she’s certain her words have stuck, she slowly brings the stone up to her chest. She allows herself to pause, to really feel the faint thump of her heart and the jaggedness of the stone against her chest. She takes in another deep breath and closes her eyes.

“I program this crystal for clarity. For heightened intuition, for protection from evil. I program this crystal for open communication, and unclouded thoughts. I program this crystal for calmness.” With one last breath, she speaks her final words-- a repeat of an earlier sentence. “May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lowers the crystal then, placing it in front of her in a spot where she can always see it out of the corner of her eye. Programming the crystal did help to ease her nerves, yes, but not entirely. Seeing it sitting in front of her in her little circle of candles does wonders, however, to remind her to stay calm, stay focused, and stay present.

So, shit, she thinks, she’s done everything she can at this point. Now it’s time for her to act.

Shot in the dark, she opens her mouth.

“If there is someone in here with me tonight,” she begins slowly, eyeing the room, “will you please show yourself?”

When she is met with silence, she sighs. “It’s just me here,” she says softly. “Just me. We have the whole house to ourselves. I just want to know who you are. If there’s something I can help you with.”

Misty pauses, and goes to open her mouth to speak again when she sees it. The gentle flutter of only one of the flames. If she’d have blinked, she would’ve missed it-- but there it is. A little wiggle of the flame that deviates from the gentle flicker of the others. Misty smiles, and lets out a little surprised breath.

“Was that you?” she asks, then pauses. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath as she watches the flame intently, and when it flickers abnormally again she lets out a pleased laugh.

“I see,” she says, unable to hide the smile on her face and the pounding of her heart. “That was easier than i thought it was going to be. Are you the spirit that’s been messing with me?”

There’s a brief pause, and then the candle flickers again. Misty can hardly believe her eyes. “I knew it,” she says, more to herself than to the spirit. She scrambles to think of the next question she’s going to ask, because she wants to hold the spirit’s attention as long as she possibly can.

“Can you do something else to show me you’re here? Maybe like… move two flames instead of just the one?”

There are a few moments of silence, and Misty almost worries that she’s asked too much of the spirit. She’s about to say a few words of encouragement, to remind the spirit that it’s only her and them in this room, when she sees it.

Every single flame flickers chaotically, in all different directions. Misty can hardly believe her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Holy shit.”

Misty swallows thickly as she ponders what exactly is happening. “Okay,” she says slowly. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

There is no response, but Misty thinks nothing of it. “Who are you?” she asks, then immediately rolls her eyes at herself. How is she expecting the spirit to identify themselves to her?

“Okay, don’t answer that,” she quickly adds. “Umm… how can I ask this?”

There’s a creak in the floor, as if someone were stepping closer to her, and it makes the hair on her arms stand up. She licks her lips as she tries to keep herself calm.

“Okay… um… are you a ghost? One flame for yes, two for no.”

She feels stupid for asking that, but she isn’t really sure how else to ask. She stares at the candles almost a little too intently, and scoffs when one of the flames flickers.

“Should’ve figured that,” she mutters, “sorry.”

Misty notices that one of the candles is slightly out of place, and she reaches forward to adjust it. Just as she does, however, she is overcome with the sense of feeling insanely cold. She gasps, retracting her hand quickly, and the air in the room becomes tense.

She clears her throat as she processes what she just felt. “Was that you?”

There is no response, but the thickness of the air does resolve a bit. Misty settles appprehensively back down into her comfortable position before changing the subject.

“How long have you been dead?” she tries.

There’s a brief moment, and she considers rewording her question, when she notices that four different flames flicker in succession, one right after the other. “I see…” she says, “So four years then?”

There is no response, and Misty thinks about their answer. “That’s not very long,” she says, frowning. “This must be a pretty fresh death, no? I’m sorry.”

One of the flames wiggles, almost sympathetically, and it makes Misty giggle. In all honesty, she’s feeling completely comfortable with this spirit.

“Look,” she says, relaxing her posture a bit. “I wish I was better at this. Truth be told, I’ve never really…. talked to a ghost before? So like, I hope I’m doing this right. I wish I had a better communication system though.”

The flame that wiggled gently before suddenly begins to shake with more vigor, burning brighter and somewhat bigger than it had before. This catches Misty’s attention.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” She asks, and the flame grows slightly larger.

“You’re free to say it,” she says, moving to tuck her knees under her butt. “Like I said, it’s just you and me in here.” She watches the flame dance, enthralled and fascinated by its movement.

“Why me?” she asks, and another flame begins wiggling violently as well. “I mean… why have you contacted me? Surely you have something to say.”

A third flame begins shaking, and Misty is growing a bit anxious. “I know you have a voice,” she says, her own voice a bit louder now. “I’ve heard it. You woke me up the other night.”

Misty’s eyes dart from one flame to the next, willing herself not to panic at the way the flames seem rather large. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the reflection of the flames on the glassy edges of her amethyst, and she thinks perhaps she should reach for it to remind her to stay grounded, stay calm, stay focused.

Just as she raises her hand to reach for it, however, a fourth flame grows larger in size.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she asks, growing a bit frustrated. “I don’t know how else to help you other than--”

Misty is cut off when she sees the amethyst move, ever so slightly. She freezes in her tracks.

She wants to pass that off as a trick of the lights, but there’s no way she can. She saw it move, plain and simple. Not to mention she’d heard the soft scratching of the stone moving against the wooden floor.

When Misty looks up, almost all of the candles are flickering aggressively. She gasps, completely panicked now.

“Show yourself!” she blurts out. “I know you’re here, I know you have something to say!”

She watches the flames intensify, and she almost considers abandoning this entire mission and blowing them all out right here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Just… say something!”

In somewhat of a trance by the way the candle lights flicker, Misty feels her heart rate increase as she stays stuck, frozen against the wooden floor. That same smell of cinnamon as before fills her nose, and she swallows thickly around a dry throat. “I--” she nearly chokes on her words. “Why are you trying to scare me?” she shouts. “I said, say something!”

Still nothing. Now she’s growing increasingly more impatient.

And then it happens.

With a sudden gust of air Misty is shoved, and all of the air in her lungs is let out with a forceful grunt. The candles are extinguished all at once, and the room instantly grows a stuffy sort of dark. The moon shining brightly in the window somehow fills Misty’s stomach with anxiety and dread, not relief. She swallows thickly, taking a few moments to gather her wits and straining her eyes against the thick blackness surrounding her.

The stillness of the room is alarming, and Misty’s heart pounds aggressively against her rib cage. It isn’t until her lungs start burning that she realizes she’s been holding her breath for fear of breaking the silence, and she lets it out slowly and cautiously.

With a shaky hand she reaches forward until she feels her lighter once again, and she flicks it on. She can hardly see in the dimly lit room, but her eyes begin to adjust, and she glances around herself nervously. “Who are you?”

“It’s about time, sunshine.”

The voice comes from behind her and startles her so much that she jumps, flinging the lighter halfway across the floor and bathing the room in darkness once again. Shit.

“Ohh,” coos the voice, deep but unthreatening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here.”

Misty feels a brush of cold air that causes the hairs on her arms to stand up before, one by one, each candle in the room flickers alive once again. Her jaw trembles as she tries to find the source of the voice in the now illuminated room.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” the voice says again, now coming from a different direction.

“I wasn’t,” she says, then swallows around the dryness of her throat. “I’m not.” It’s a complete lie, but she doesn’t want to let her guard down now.

The voice is raspy and deep, but friendly, and a thick, honey drip of a british accent coats the noise sweetly. “That’s a lie,” it says, and it sounds like a man. A pouty man at that. “You weren’t so afraid of me before. Now you’re shaking.”

“You just startled me, that’s all. Where are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to show you if you’re going to be scared.”

Somehow, his words aren’t comforting. Still, Misty isn’t a quitter. “What is there to be scared of? Are you a ghost?”

“I am.”

She smirks. “Are you an ugly ghost?”

This time, he scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Well!” Misty says. “Someone’s full of himself, isn’t he?”

“I’m not!” he insists, and he sounds closer now. “It’s just that you spoke a big game before. Now I’m not so sure you’re ready for this after all.”

Misty sighs, growing increasingly more irritated by the second. “If I wasn’t ready for this, I wouldn’t have summoned you. I thought you were intriguing before. Now you’re just annoying.” She moves like she’s going to stand, and suddenly feels another gust of cold air on her arm.

“Wait!” He sounds as though he’s right in front of her now, and she’s overwhelmed by his cinnamon scent. “I’m not trying to be annoying. I just… want to make sure you’re ready for this.”

“I told you I am,” Misty huffs. She gestures vaguely around the room. “Your words are scaring me more than any of this did. Why wouldn’t I be ready to see you?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “Just… sometimes people don’t know how to respond when they see their first manifestation.”

“I’ve seen a ghost before, dude.”

Now, it’s his turn to sound intrigued. “Have you?”

“M-hm. I’ve always been able to sense these kinds of things.”

“But have you seen one?”

“Shadows mostly. Or I heard voices.”

“But a physical manifestation--”

“You don’t count shadows?”

“Of course I do.” There’s a noise, and it sounds as if the spirit has just sat down. “But I’m not a shadow.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a different type of ghost. Did you know there are several types?”

Misty leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I mean yeah, of course, but I had always just assumed you all showed yourselves as shadows.”

“Not all of us. I mean, we can-- but it isn’t natural for me. I’m not sure we’ve got an actual name for me, but there are many out there like me. We’re a certain type of intelligent ghost that can physically interact with the linear time and space around us. Usually we’re harmless.”

“Are you harmless?”

Once again, she can practically hear the spirit’s smile. “Usually.”

“So… when I see you, you’ll look like, what, just a regular dude?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Why are you hyping this up so much?”

“I don’t know! It’s been a long time since I’ve manifested in front of someone!”

“Ah.” Misty grins. “So you’re the one who isn’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s why you’ve been stalling for so long. You wanted my attention so badly, and now you’ve got it. So show yourself.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “There’s no need to be pushy.”

Silence follows his words, and Misty stares blankly ahead-- waiting for something to happen. She shakes her head slowly and shrugs. “I don’t…. Get it....”

“Turn around.”

Once again, Misty jumps out of pure surprise when the spirit’s voice comes from behind her. She whirls around almost too quickly, nearly losing her balance despite being seated. The minute she sees him standing calmly behind her, she rises.

She takes a moment to really just look at him. She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting; maybe a glowing transparent blob of a young man from the early 1900s, or, worst case scenario, a perfectly normal looking guy who just happened to have a very visible axe lodged into his brain (or some other indication of his death)-- but in any case, he doesn’t look like anything she’d been anticipating. He looks like any other guy she’d see walking around on campus, and if it weren’t for the hardly visible glow outlining his body, she’d assume this was a new Kappa pledge pulling a prank on her as part of his hazing.

He’s got shaggy brown hair that hangs from his head in curls that frame his face and his ears. His eyes are blue-- or are they green? Misty isn’t close enough to be able to tell, and truthfully she’s still a bit apprehensive about befriending a dead guy, so she stays put. Whatever color they are though, they’re beautiful. He’s not floating-- she doesn’t know why she’d been expecting him to-- but standing flat on his feet he’s still taller than her. He’s one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen, and it makes her feel faint (although she blames that on the fact that she’s face to face with someone who’s died).

“I’m Harry,” he says slowly. He’s calm, but he’s unsure. He watches her as if waiting for some type of earth-shattering reaction. The less she moves, the more nervous he becomes. When she doesn’t say anything, he speaks again. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

For someone who isn’t alive-- Misty can’t seem to get over that fact-- he dresses remarkably well. He honestly does look like a Kappa brother, and it weirds her out.

“How did you do that?” She frowns at herself. That was the first thing she could think to say?

Harry laughs, relieved that she’s seemingly so calm. He shrugs. “Dunno. Just something I can do.” He takes a step towards her and, instinctively, Misty takes half a step back.

This time, Harry smirks, but he doesn’t move closer. “Are you still scared?”

“I was never scared!” Misty groans.

“Just startled then.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and now Misty can see that they’re clearly green.

Misty rolls her eyes. It’s impossible to stay annoyed at him when he’s looking at her like this. “Fine!” she sighs. “I’m a little scared.”

“Ha!” Harry beams jubilantly. The smile fades just as quickly as it came, however, and he frowns. “Why are you still scared?”

“I don’t know! I’ve just never done this before.”

The bright smile returns to his face, softer this time, and Misty-- though still apprehensive-- relaxes a bit. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently.

“I didn’t think you were,” Misty replies. “But I also don’t know why you wanted my attention so badly.”

Harry shrugs. “Because. I think you’re pretty.”

It’s so straightforward that Misty is taken aback, and she scoffs. “What, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Harry blinks back at her, standing by his words completely and keeping that air of smugness about him.

Misty waits for a further explanation, but when Harry only stares back at her and raises his eyebrows, she realizes that she isn’t getting one. She laughs in disbelief. “So you went through all this trouble…. Just to tell me I’m pretty?”

“Suppose so.” Harry’s head cocks a bit to the left, and it’s the first time that Misty notices the endearing little dimple on his cheek. She doesn’t know why he flusters her so badly, but she feels her cheeks heating up when she realizes that yes, he’s telling the truth. He really did just want to tell her she was pretty.

Misty’s hand comes up to comb through her hair and she swallows thickly. “Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but it’s tense. The air is thick with tension, in fact, and Misty wonders if it’s possible to flirt with a ghost.

Harry clears his throat. “Anyway. If you want me to leave you alone--”

“No!” Misty responds, almost too quickly. “I don’t. Not at all.”

“You don’t?” Harry beams back at her, and Misty realizes that he really is just as nervous as she is.

“I don’t,” she replies. “But, I mean-- are you just gonna live here from now on? In the attic?”

Harry laughs, a tinkling noise that sends butterflies straight to the pit of Misty’s belly. “I live in this house one way or another. Have for several years. It’s just that I can only show myself at a certain time of year.”

“But why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Harry laughs, taking another cautious step towards Misty. When she doesn’t retreat, he relaxes and fully closes the gap between them. Once again, the smell of cinnamon fills Misty’s nose. Slowly and decidedly, Harry reaches forward to touch her arm and the instant his hand comes in contact with her skin, she is flooded with goosebumps.

His skin is cold, but not as cold as she was expecting. Although honestly, she wasn’t expecting to be able to make tangible contact with him at all. But she can feel it so clearly-- five fingertips trailing comfortingly along the skin of her arm with the gentleness and intention of a lover. Five perfectly groomed fingernails that show no indication of death. Standing this close to him, she can make out the details of his face; a little scar on his neck, a small freckle on his lip, soft smile lines around his eyes. Misty shivers-- partly because of the coldness of his touch, but mostly because it’s been ages since she’s stood this close to someone so beautiful.

His fingers trail down to her hand, and then more specifically, the one finger she burned. She’s almost in a trance as he brushes his cold fingers against the stinging patch of skin, and in an instant any pain she felt in the throbbing finger is now gone.

Misty glances from her finger, then back to Harry, who’s smiling the most tender smile she’s ever seen. “How…?” She begins slowly.

Harry lets out a sigh, and Misty realizes they’ve just been staring at one another. “Don’t worry about it, sunshine.”

Misty practically melts into his touch, and she isn’t sure if he’s got a spell on her or what, but she has the overwhelming urge to kiss him now. She swallows, then opens her mouth to speak before Harry cuts her off. “Your sisters are home.”

“What?”

She doesn’t have time for answers, however, when through the attic window she sees the blue mini cooper of one of her sorority sisters pull up to the curb. She watches the car for a moment. “How did you--”

But when she turns to finish her question, Harry is gone.

------

The following day, Misty finds herself bundled up and sitting in her favorite spot on campus, despite the chill in the air. She’s sitting on the cold grass against a large rock, overlooking a tiny stream that runs throughout the entire small town. She knows it won’t be long before the stream freezes over, so, despite the cold weather, she’s brought herself here to read and listen to the babbling water while she still can.

Harry hadn’t showed up for the rest of the night last night, which had led Misty to wonder if she’d dreamt the entire thing. It had kept her up most of the night, and when he still hadn’t appeared this morning, she knew she had to do something to get her mind off of him.

Which is how she’s found herself here now. Most of her homework for the week is done, so she’s decided to spoil herself by grabbing her favorite coffee at the shop she frequents and a new book at the library before heading to her spot.

It’s a brisk October day, and the Halloween decorations hanging from the campus houses flutter in the chilly wind. Misty wraps her scarf a little tighter around her neck and snuggles further into her coat as she turns the page of her book.

“There you are.”

Misty jumps, nearly spilling her coffee, when she hears it. The thick, British drawl she’s been so desperately craving to hear all morning comes from behind her, and she whirls around to see Harry, in the exact same outfit he’d been in last night, smirking at her.

“Stop doing that!” she hisses. Despite her grumpy tone, she scoots over when Harry makes his way to sit beside her. She feels immediately comforted when she smells the cinnamon that comes with his presence.

Harry chuckles, plopping into the grass. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” Misty huffs, putting her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place.

The smirk on Harry’s face is so smug that Misty wants to slap it off of him. “You’ve been expecting me?”

This throws Misty off guard, and her cheeks go hot. “Well, yeah,” she says, trying to maintain her attitude. “I mean, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Harry laughs. “No, I don’t.”

“Seriously?” Misty rolls her eyes. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Not a person,” Harry states. “I’m a ghost.”

“Well whatever you are, you’re annoying.”

“Thank you.” Harry nods towards the book in her hands. “What are you reading?”

Misty doesn’t answer him, suddenly far more self-conscious than she’d been before. He reaches out to take the book and pulls it closer to himself to read the title aloud.

“‘When Ghosts Speak: Understanding the World of Earthbound Spirits.’” He snorts. “Seriously?”

“Well if you won’t tell me anything, I have to figure it out myself.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” Harry says, relaxing against the rock and stretching his feet out in front of him. “Fire away.”

Misty eyes him for a moment. “You’re not kidding?”

“I’m an open book.”

She takes his sudden burst of confident vulnerability and considers the questions she wants to ask. There had been so many in her head since he’d disappeared last night, but now that she’s on the spot, she’s blanking.

Misty clears her throat. “Alright. I’ll start off easy. How are you here?”

Harry smiles. “I can go anywhere I want to. Just like you.”

“Can anyone else see you?”

“If I wanted them to. But I don’t.”

Misty looks around, suddenly nervous that anyone nearby might hear her speaking and think she’s talking to herself. Luckily, she seems to be the only person crazy enough to willingly subject herself to this weather. So she turns back to Harry.

“So then why did you wait for me to summon you? Why didn’t you just show yourself?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Harry responds. “I can only manifest during a certain time period every year. But in order to manifest at all, I have to be invited first. After I accept the invitation, I’m free to come and go as I please until the end of the season.”

“So you’re going to be a pest for this entire fall then?” Despite her words, Misty smirks.

Harry matches her wit and chuckles. “No, not that kind of season. Scorpio season.”

“Oh god,” Misty groans. “You’re an astrology freak, aren’t you?”

Harry snorts. “Look, I didn’t make the rules. That’s just the way it is. When Scorpio season starts, I can show myself. When it ends, I leave.”

“Where do you go? When it ends, I mean.”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. Nowhere bad. It’s just kinda… nothing. I can’t explain it.”

“Is it scary?”

Harry considers her words, then shakes his head. “I… really can’t explain it. It’s not scary. It goes by fast. I just kind of… sleep, I guess. Nothingness.” A sudden thought dawns on him, like he’s remembering something. “But! I can pop into people’s dreams while I’m there.”

“You can?”

“Yup. I don’t do it too often, just because it takes a lot of my energy, but I’ve seen some pretty interesting things, I’ll tell you that.”

Misty doesn’t say anything, and Harry lets her sit in silence while she processes his words. He knows it’s a lot, and he knows he would be weirded out if he were in her shoes. So he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Finally, she turns to him. She doesn’t look nervous, but something is on her mind. “Can I ask you something… a little more personal?”

“Anything.”

“Okay.” Misty takes a deep breath, focusing her attention on the birds hopping around nearby. “How did you… die?”

“How did I die?” Harry repeats her question, then blows out all of his air in a puff. “It’s not anything exciting.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just--”

“No, no!” Harry holds up his hand. “I don’t mind. It’s just… anticlimactic I suppose. And you’re probably going to laugh.”

Misty leans closer, a serious look spreading across her face. “I wouldn’t dare laugh about someone’s death.”

“No, you will,” Harry says, smiling to himself. “It’s kinda funny.” He takes a deep breath, preparing to tell the story. “I fell off the roof of your house.”

Harry laughs, but Misty doesn’t find it funny at all. “That’s horrible, Harry. How did you--”

“While having sex.”

Misty stops her sentence dead in its tracks, and a new look of pure surprise blossoms on her face. “You…”

Harry sighs, launching into the story. “A few years ago, your sorority was throwing a Halloween party. I wasn’t into Greek life but a few of my mates dragged me along. I was already pretty drunk by the time we got there, right, so all bets were off. Well, I met this girl, right? Never even learned her bloody name, but I guess she was a sister. Made eyes at me from across the room and it was over. Drank some more, chatted her up, and then we decided ‘hey, might as well.’ Only, all of the bedrooms were taken. So then, she had the brilliant idea to go up on the roof. It was raining so, you know, in hindsight we should’ve known better. But we were drunk and horny and stupid. So we went up, started going at it, slipped, and uh… splat. So to speak.”

Misty doesn’t know how to respond, and Harry doesn’t expect her to. He just chuckles. “Found me with my pants around my bloody ankles,” he continues. “ Not a very dignified way to go is it?”

“That’s awful.” Misty frowns.

“Eh. What can you do? Apparently the girl lived but she felt so guilty that she dropped out of school and moved away. I guess no one’s heard from her since.”

“You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”

“Oh, nah. No way. It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry to make you talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Harry replies. “All I can do is laugh about it at this point.”

“Well,” Misty says, shifting her position against the rock. “I still don’t think it’s funny.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Mm?”

“Why me? Like, what was it about me that made you decide ‘Ah, yeah, she’s the one I’m gonna haunt?’”

Harry smiles, crossing his foot over his opposite leg and resting his ankle to his knee. He gives her question a moment of thought before responding. “Told you. Think you’re pretty.”

Misty rolls her eyes but the smile that forms on her lips is undeniable. “That’s seriously it?”

“I mean,” Harry says slowly, absentmindedly shaking his foot back and forth. “Yeah. Been stuck at that house for the past, what, four Scorpio seasons now? You’re the first girl I’ve seen who’s caught my attention.”

“Ew, so you like, spy on us?”

Harry snorts. “No, god, I’m not a perv. But, you know, I live there, too, so. Sometimes I’ll join in for movie night. Or game night. I also pop in to the occasional party. But I don’t spy.”

“Good,” Misty says. “Although I don’t even think you’d find anything juicy anyway. They’re a bunch of duds.”

“Can I ask you something now?” Harry’s got an intrigued smile on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you join a sorority? You seem to hate everything about it.”

Misty sighs. “I don’t hate it,” she says slowly. “I mean, it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice for like, extra-curricular activities.”

“So why then?”

“I’m a legacy,” she replies. “My mom and my grandma were both Beta Sigmas. They would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

“Is it really that serious to them?”

Misty smirks. “For someone who lives in a sorority house, you sure know nothing about sorority girls.”

Harry’s laugh is sudden and it makes Misty’s heart warm despite the coldness of his presence. “It would appear so. Jeez.”

The two fall silent for the next few moments, residual giggles dying off into happy sighs. It’s obvious that they both enjoy one another’s company, and Misty is ridiculously glad that he’s come back to check up on her today.

After about a minute of silence, however, another question pops into her head. “So. You’re a Scorpio then?”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not, no. Or, I wasn’t, when I was alive.”

“Why Scorpio season then?”

“Because it coincides with spooky season, I guess. Or maybe because I died at a Halloween party? I don’t know. I didn’t make it up.”

“What are you then? What’s your sign or whatever?”

Harry smirks. “Guess.”

“Taurus.”

He shakes his head. “Guess again.”

“Leo.”

Harry makes a face now. “No. God, a Leo? Who do you think I am?”

Misty giggles. “I don’t know! I don’t know shit about astrology!”

“Obviously.” Harry snorts. “I’m an Aquarius.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s the best.”

“Great.”

Harry giggles, letting the conversation naturally fizzle out before starting his next sentence. “Misty?”

It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name to her face, not just in her ear late at night while she’s trying to sleep, and it fills her with butterflies yet again. “Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re not, like, scared of me. Really glad.”

Misty giggles. “I am, too, honestly.”

“Even though you were scared in the beginning.”

Misty’s smile turns into a scowl, but there is still a playfulness in her eyes and in her tone that makes Harry laugh. “I wasn’t. I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Harry scoots the tiniest bit closer to Misty and nods at her book. “So. Tell me what’s going on in your book.”

-----

Harry just might be the most annoying person-- or rather, entity-- that Misty has ever come across in her entire life.

And she can’t get enough of him.

They’d spent a good portion of their days together throughout the past week, with Harry lingering around longer and longer each day. Misty didn’t mind, of course, and she welcomed his company. By the fourth day of spending time together, they were chatting as if they were the best of friends. Misty had learned about Harry’s life prior to coming to this school, about his mom and his sister and how he checked in on them via their dreams whenever he could. She learned about what he’d been studying prior to his death, and what he wanted to do with that degree. And Harry answered each and every one of her questions with patience (and usually a snarky remark), which Misty loved.

In turn, Harry had learned much of the same information about Misty’s life, and he found her fascinating. He asked her just as many questions as she asked him, and whenever she called for him, he showed up. He loved it every time.

He’d manifested in the kitchen this morning as she was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and he’d followed her around like a child while she tried to find something decent for breakfast. She hadn’t acknowledged him much, for fear of any of the other girls noticing, but she did manage to sneak him a few sleepy grins that he found himself melting for every time.

He’d then followed her up to her room, where he chatted with her while she crunched away at a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. They’d discussed her plans for the day and he’d asked her if he could stay with her (although truth be told, he didn’t really have to ask; he knew she’d say yes anyway).

It hadn’t been a very busy day by any means. Misty had had a few errands to run (which Harry had found unbelievably boring and dipped out of, promising her he’d be waiting for her at home). Presently, Misty finds herself sitting on her bed, laptop resting comfortably on her thighs, while she types away at a book report that she has due at midnight.

Harry had offered her his help, which she’d taken him up on, but Misty soon came to find out that the word ‘help’ in his case was used very loosely. Harry had elected instead to continuously chat and distract Misty, and each distraction was met with a protest from her… as well as her deepest insight on whatever topic Harry had decided to bring up. Truth be told, Misty welcomed the distraction. She loved picking his brain, and he hers.

Currently, Misty types away mindlessly, while Harry sits quietly at the foot of her bed flipping through one of Misty’s old yearbooks. Every now and again he’ll marvel at something in the yearbook, or he’ll tease Misty about her braces or tell her she looked cute during spirit week. “‘Nerd Day’ huh? Suits you.”

After Harry has been particularly quiet for a while, however, Misty starts to get suspicious.

She glances up from her work to find Harry staring at her, a mischievous grin that she hates to love tugging at his cheeks.

“What?” she says, subconsciously squirming under his gaze.

He only blinks, hardly bothering to look away or wipe the smirk from his face. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Don’t know if I should say…”

This makes Misty’s cheeks grow hot, though she tries her hardest to cover it up. “Harry don’t be an idiot.”

Harry chuckles, using his finger to mark the page of Misty’s yearbook that he’s currently on. “It’s nothing bad,” he says casually. “It’s fine.”

“Then stop staring at me,” Misty says with a smile. “Creep. If you have something to say then say it.”

Harry grins, reaching down to wiggle his fingers against the underside of her foot. “I do, actually. I have an idea.”

Misty lowers her laptop screen just a tad so she can see him better before speaking. “What kind of idea?”

The smile on her face and the narrowing of her eyes tells Harry that she’s in before she even knows his idea, and he has to contain his giggles as he speaks.

“You wanna play a prank on your sisters?” He asks. “Just to spook them a bit. ‘Tis the season and all that.”

“What kind of a prank?” Misty sits up, leaning closer to Harry and lowering her voice excitedly.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, “maybe like… I could throw some stuff around. Make a few noises. Pretend to possess you.”

Immediately, Misty is intrigued. She gently tosses the laptop to the side and beams. “Shit, you think we should?”

“I do,” Harry says, a twinkle already forming in his eye. “Obviously we’ll have to work out the details, but yeah. Something like that.”

“Pretend to possess me,” Misty says, “do it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Someone’s a bit eager, aren’t they?”

Misty rolls her eyes, but the embarrassed little smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. “Not like that,” she says, then tacks on a mumbled and affectionate “stupid.”

“Not like what?” Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, purposely making Misty squirm. She laughs and tosses a pillow at his face.

“Nevermind,” she says through a grin, “I don’t even want to do this anymore.”

“Liar,” Harry says.

“Brat,” Misty replies.

Harry’s eyes twinkle. “I take it that you’re in, then.”

“I guess,” Misty says. “Don’t look so smug.”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me,” Harry says casually, and it takes Misty a moment to even register what he’s said.

Misty feels the heat rising in her cheeks at his words, and as flustered as he’s made her, she bounces back quickly. “I must be adorable all the time then.”

Harry shrugs. “You said it, not me.”

“Anyway,” Misty says, desperately trying to change the subject to cover up how giddy he’s making her, “what did you actually have in mind?”

Harry smirks. “How good are your acting skills?”

---

Coincidentally, tonight is movie night among a few of the girls and their boyfriends. Which, Misty and Harry had quickly realized, was the perfect setting to execute their plan.

It’s 8:30pm, and Misty is sitting on the couch under a blanket, snuggled between a few other sisters. There are sisters scattered around the entire living room, some cuddled up with their respective partners and some without. Everyone has alcohol of some sort; Misty herself is about a glass and a half of wine in, and she’s actively trying to ignore the thoughts about how badly she wishes Harry were sitting beside her on the couch.

Especially since she’s the only one who can see him right now, sitting so casually in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the screen like everyone else’s, and looking so, so handsome.

If Misty didn’t know any better she would think he was just another one of the guys, and for a moment she allows herself to indulge in the make-believe world in which Harry is her boyfriend who has come over to join the girls for movie night. In her mind, he’s just gotten up to get Misty a bottle of water, but got so interested in the film that he ended up just sitting down to finish the scene.

It’s selfish, Misty knows. But seeing him like this, so casually cute, makes her heart hurt. Obviously she’s got things way easier than Harry, considering she is the only one between them with a beating heart. But she has to wonder if it gets lonely in his world. He can only visit his loved ones through dreams. He can only show himself for a month out of the year. Even now, he sits alone in the corner of the room, far from everyone else.

He had joked about it earlier, saying the reason he sat so far away from everyone was because the spot he was in gave him the best seat of the house every time. However, a few moments later he’d admitted that the actual reason was because he didn’t want to make anyone cold and ruin the fun. He’d given her a soft smile and brushed that statement off with yet another joke, but it had broken Misty’s heart.

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry turns just in time to catch Misty staring at him, and he grins immediately.

“Stop staring at me, creep.” He winks at her.

For a full five seconds, Misty is terrified that Harry’s just blown his own cover. She tenses up, glancing around the room in shock just waiting for someone to say something about hearing a voice. When she realizes, with confusion, that not a single person has moved, Harry speaks again.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear me. Only you.”

Misty glances back at Harry, wanting to say something back but knowing she can’t, and he grins. “God, I bet it’s killing you, not being able to talk back to me. I could have some fun with this.”

When Misty shoots a subtle glare in Harry’s direction, he gasps. “If looks could kill,” he says, shaking his head.

Misty wants to laugh and throw something at him and fight back but she knows she can’t, and he’s right, it is killing her. She cracks her neck gently from side to side, in an attempt to relax herself, and Harry laughs.

“Alright, I’ll have mercy. Are you ready to get started? Or are you super into the movie?”

Misty’s face goes into a completely deadpan expression as she glances at Harry, as if to say “really?” How on earth is she supposed to answer that?

“Oh,” Harry chuckles. “Uh, blink once if you want me to start.”

Misty blinks as subtly as she can while still trying to make her answer clear to Harry. He beams.

“Blink once if you think I’m hot.”

This time, Misty can’t control herself. She lets out an exasperated sigh that does, unfortunately, catch the attention of a few of her friends.

“You good?” The girl sitting beside her on the couch-- Kennedy-- laughs.

Before Misty even has time to respond, however, Harry swoops in and saves the day. He knocks hard, twice, on the wooden floor, and every head in the room turns.

There is an intense shift of energy once everyone realizes that there is nothing that could have possibly made that noise.

“Uhhh…???” Another sister, Rosie, speaks up, curling even further into her boyfriend.

“What the fuck was that dude?” Greg, one of the most unbearably fratty boys Misty has ever known, sits up.

And there sits Harry, smirking in the corner, obviously pleased with his work.

Misty realizes quickly that she can’t blow her own cover, so her face changes to one of apprehension and terror, mirroring everyone else’s. “Uhh… everyone heard that, right?”

“That was like, distinct!” Rosie says. “Like two deliberate knocks.”

All at once everyone starts talking over one another.

“What the fuck, dude--”

“Was it over in that corner?”

“Go check it out--”

“No you go check it out!”

“Was it one knock or two?”

“You guys, what the fuck was that?’

Misty glances at Harry, who is staring back at her expectantly, as if to ask if it’s okay if he makes the next move. Misty gives him a subtle nod, and Harry rises to his feet.

He walks gently along the wooden floor, making sure to get as close as possible to the people sitting scattered along it. He wants them to feel his presence, and each person has a different reaction.

It’s Luca, Rosie’s boyfriend, who says something first. “Wait, I’m not even kidding you, I’m cold as shit right now.”

Harry grins down at Luca, shooting Misty a wink. “Uh ohhhh,” Harry says softly. He reaches down to lightly tickle his fingers against the back of Luca’s neck, and Luca instantly shoots up onto his feet.

“Swear to GOD dude, something just fucking touched me!”

Rosie shoots to her feet as well, taking a step away from Luca. “Luca you better not be fucking around--”

“Why would I fuck around about that shit?” he asks, voice raising.

“Guys there has to be a logical explanation for this.” Kennedy speaks up, reaching for her drink on the table. “Like, it’s getting colder outside. Maybe there was a draft.”

Rosie sniffs the air a few times, then swallows. Misty has never seen anyone look so worried before in her life, and it makes her want to laugh. “Guys, I smell cinnamon.”

“Oops,” Harry says, turning to Misty. “Might’ve gotten a bit too close there.”

In an instant, Harry is out of Misty’s sight. But he manifests again in the back corner of the room and steps on a particularly creaky floor board, causing everyone’s heads to turn.

Harry observes the shocked looks on all of their faces, then gives Misty a shit eating grin. “I do that a lot, actually,” he says.

As if backing up his words, another sister, Angie, speaks up. “That’s the noise!” she says. “Lindsey and I were in here the other night and we heard it!”

“I’ve heard it too,” Kennedy says. “It happens like, all the time.”

“So you’re just like, not even scared?” Rosie asks, panic in her voice now. “You’re like, completely fine with it? Like it’s normal to you?”

“Misty.” Harry’s voice is now right in Misty’s ear, and it makes her jump. She can feel his cold presence against her skin, and his all too delicious spicy scent engulfs her. She shivers, but turns her head as if to let him know he’s got her attention.

“You ever seen the movie Beetlejuice?”

Misty giggles and nods subtly, glad that no one in the room is really paying attention to her right now.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckles against Misty’s skin. “Thinkin’ we could do somethin’ like that one scene.”

Misty doesn’t even have time to question what scene he’s even referring to, his coldness is gone just as quickly as it came. She turns around again, eyes scanning the room of her panicked classmates and sisters, before she finds him in the corner of the room, messing with an iphone that’s charging. He doesn’t pick it up, instead he just taps the screen. Luckily, the phone is unlocked.

“It’s 2020,” he mumbles, “Who doesn’t have a bloody passcode on their phone?”

The unlocking of the phone, however, does not go unnoticed.

It’s Rosie who points it out, because of course it is. “Guys,” she shrieks, “look at Greg’s phone!”

All eyes are on Harry-- or rather, the phone, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Shit,” he mutters, then looks up at Misty. “Ask them if they hear something.”

Misty wastes no time. “Guys… holy shit do you hear that?”

The room goes quiet, save for the movie that no one had bothered to pause. Lindsey scrambles for the remote and quickly mutes the television, and everyone is stock still.

“I don’t hear anything,” Rosie whispers, and Misty quickly cuts her off with a sharp “Shhh!”

She glances back over at Harry, hoping he has a plan. He doesn’t even look at her, he just continues scrolling through the phone with a concentrated frown on his face.

Greg rises to his feet and takes a cautious step towards his phone. “What the fuck--” he mumbles.

And then Harry nods, pushes a button, and everyone jumps as the opening bars of Tainted Love fill the room via the bluetooth speakers in the corner.

A small smirk begins growing on Harry’s face as he slowly rises from his squatted position beside the phone. “Ahh,” he says slowly. “An absolute classic.”

Everyone seems to be in shock at what’s happening, so no one moves or reaches for the phone to stop the music. Harry is beaming at Misty, and now she can’t even try to hide the smile on her face as he begins bopping towards her.

His shoulders are grooving along with the beat, and he does a silly side step type of jig in Greg’s direction that makes Misty almost lose her composure completely. He punches the air with each prominent beat, wiggling his hips closer to Greg.

“Get his phone, Misty,” Harry says quietly, continuing his slow dancing movements. “Don’t let anyone turn the song off.”

Just as Greg takes a step forward to get to his phone, Harry swoops in, taking both of Greg’s hands in his and dancing with him-- a very poor version of a ballroom dance.

Nearly everyone in the room shrieks. “Greg this isn’t funny!” Rosie squeals. “Knock it off!”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this!” Greg calls over his shoulder, as Harry spins him around the room.

Misty seizes this opportunity and makes a beeline for the phone, glad that everyone is too preoccupied watching Greg dance with a seemingly invisible partner. Harry, although focused on the dancing, keeps his eyes on her the entire time. When he sees her pick up the phone and subtly slip it into the pocket of her sweat pants, he grins. “Good girl.”

Misty tries to ignore how those words make her feel.

Harry ends his dance with Greg by dramatically turning Greg away. He glances at Misty with the most mischievous look she’s ever seen. “Who’s next?”

He doesn’t give her time to even think of an answer, he’s already shimmying his way over to Rosie. He stops briefly to deliberately knock a pillow off of the couch and giggles, “oops!” when it startles the daylights out of Lindsey. Everyone in the room has begun to frantically look for the phone, including Misty-- who is just trying to play her part. The scream that Rosie lets out when Harry grabs onto her though, is something Misty can’t even ignore. She bursts out laughing, earning a few shocked looks from her friends..

“Help!�� Rosie screams. “It’s not fucking funny Misty!”

Misty immediately tries to compose herself, forcing her face into as serious an expression as she can muster. “Sorry,” she says, “It’s just--”

“Rosie if this is a prank, I swear,” Angie cuts Misty off and lunges towards Rosie, feeling the air around her.

“It’s not!” Rosie wails. “I don’t know how I’m doing this!’

Harry twirls away from Rosie and right into the arms of Angie, who gasps as she’s led clumsily, around the room. “Oh my god!’

“Oh my god!” Misty repeats, trying her best to seem as shocked as everyone else. “What the fuck is happening?”

“That’s good,” Harry says over his shoulder, “But I’m gonna need more feeling from you.”

Misty lets out a horrified shriek that puts Rosie’s own shriek to shame. “We have to find the phone!” she cries. “We have to turn this stupid song off!”

Harry frowns now. “Hey. Tainted Love isn’t stupid. Watch your mouth.’

Misty ignores him as she joins in on the frantic search for the phone that she knows damn well is deep in her pocket. Every now and then she and Harry share a knowing glance, as he switches from partner to partner.

Misty stands in the furthest corner of the room, pretending to busy herself looking for the item, when suddenly Kennedy laughs. Misty doesn’t even bother looking up, assuming simply that Harry has switched to her. It’s when Rosie speaks that Misty’s attention is caught.

“Kennedy what are you laughing at?!” Rosie wails, tears in her eyes.

“It’s kind of funny!” Kennedy says, taking a sip from her drink before setting it back down. “Like, whoever is doing this-- a ghost or a demon or like, whatever-- has a sense of humor. They know a good classic when they hear it.”

Harry, who’s currently spinning Luca into dizzy oblivion, grins. “Kennedy’s got the spirit!”

“It’s not funny!” Rosie cries. “How can you laugh?!”

Kennedy shrugs, already beginning a bop of her own. “I dunno, I think it’s funny. I don’t think whatever’s doing this is like, evil.”

“I don’t think it is either,” Misty chimes in, although she’s brushed off by everyone’s talking. Some people try to stop whatever force is making them dance, others are too scared to go near the dancer for fear of being next. Kennedy, however, just continues to groove on her own.

Misty reaches discreetly into her pocket to turn the music up a bit more, and Harry laughs gleefully. “Louder!” He calls to Misty, finally releasing his hold on Luca and scanning the room for his next victim.

As Misty watches him, cheerfully prancing around the room and trying to catch Linsdey-- who’s darting around the room like a chicken with her head cut off-- she tries her hardest to ignore the twitching of her heart. There’s no way she likes him, absolutely not. He’s dead, for fucks sake. But he looks so full of life, so full of happiness, and she realizes that this is probably the most fun he’s had in years.

“Misty what are you doing?” Kennedy calls. “You’re not even looking for the phone, come dance with me!’

“Yeah Misty, come dance!” Harry adds, shimmying his way up to Kennedy and taking her hand.

Kennedy shrieks, but she isn’t scared. She laughs immediately, as Harry pulls out his best dance moves for her.

“Someone is fucking with us,” Angie says, “They have to be.”

“Misty, why are you just standing there?” Greg asks. “You’re not even trying to help us!”

“Because,” Misty replies, her brain running a million miles an hour to come up with an excuse. She’s distracted by how much fun Harry’s having, beaming at his one willing participant as he twirls her around. She smiles. “Because I agree with Kennedy. Whatever kind of spirit is doing this is obviously having fun. I think we should let him--” Misty quickly realizes what she’s said and corrects herself “-- or it, whatever it is, just keep vibing with us. This is probably the most fun it’s had in years.”

“You’re right,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he dips Kennedy, “It is.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Rosie sobs, practically throwing herself into Luca’s arms.

“Misty is the only person this spirit hasn’t fucked with!” Lindsey points out. “She has to be up to something!”

Harry makes a face. “That’s a good point,” he muses. He gives Kennedy one last twirl before disappearing completely out of Misty’s sight-- only to reappear right beside her seconds later.

“Care to dance, ma’am?”

Misty lets her guard down completely and laughs as Harry takes hold of her. For a moment, she seems to forget all the eyes in the room. She forgets that she is the only one who can see Harry. Kennedy cheers her on as Harry moves her body-- far more dramatically than he’d moved anyone else’s.

“Miss Misty!” Harry says, making a face as if he’s beyond impressed with her moves. “You can dance!” He dips her aggressively and she squeals, reaching up to hold onto him for stability.

Kennedy starts to jokingly dance around with the other sisters, but Misty hardly notices because she’s so distracted by the silly faces Harry’s pulling as he flings her around. He goes to dip her again, nearly bashing her head accidentally on a lamp. “Whoops,” he says through a giggle.

Misty laughs so hard she snorts, and Harry brings her upright again with the biggest smile on his face. “Never heard you laugh this hard before,” he muses, “it’s cute.”

Instantly, Misty’s cheeks grow hot, and her insides twist as hard as Harry’s spinning her. As if sensing how flustered she is, Harry laughs, reaching down to pinch playfully at her side.

“I know it’s killing you,” he mumbles. “It’s kinda killing me, too.” Harry lifts Misty off the ground, spinning her around ungracefully and making her shriek “Although I know if you could talk to me, you’d probably yell at me. Or make some smartass remark.” Harry spins Misty out, then in, his face now unbearably close to hers. He grins. “So I am liking this a bit.”

Misty catches herself staring at Harry’s lips, and she subconsciously licks her own. She wants to say something so bad, and she knows he’s teasing her because he can. She hears Kennedy’s laughter mixed with another (maybe Angie’s?), and she sees the commotion occuring around her in the room, but it doesn’t feel real. The only thing she can focus on is Harry, and his scent, and the icy feeling of his breath against her skin.

Maybe everyone is too distracted, and she can lean in and kiss him. Can she kiss a ghost? Obviously she’s never tried before but he’s so close, he’s right in front of her… surely--

Misty’s thoughts are interrupted with the sudden sound of silence. She turns quickly, completely broken from her trance with Harry, to see Luca holding the wireless speaker in his hand, one thumb on the power button, mouth wide open in fear.

After a few more beats, Luca speaks. “Does anyone still feel anything?”

Misty turns to find that Harry is gone, completely out of her sight, and she tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“It’s gone,” Rosie says. “I think it’s gone. No one is moving anymore.”

Misty scans the room, trying to find Harry somewhere blending into his surroundings, but much to her dismay she finds him nowhere.

Greg slaps Luca’s arm dramatically before taking a step into the middle of the room. “Bro, what happened?”

“What the fuck was that?!” Rosie’s mascara is running slightly down her face, but her voice is at a much lower and less panicked level than before. “What the fuck just happened?”

“That was fucked,” Luca says, moving closer to Rosie. “Like, fucked.”

Misty tries her hardest to play her part, trying to act as shocked as everyone else, but she can’t stop her hand from flying to the cold spot on her chin-- where she’d felt Harry’s own mouth brush. She can’t stop herself from thinking about his words, wondering how lovely it would’ve felt to kiss him.

“And Kennedy and Misty didn’t do shit to try and fix it!” Rosie cries, reaching up to wipe at her now completely wet eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kennedy says, “What should we have done? Begged nicely for this invisible fucking force to leave us alone? I’m sure it would’ve totally listened to us.” She chuckles almost bitterly, reaching for her abandoned drink on the table. “You guys don’t know how to have fun,” she finishes, punctuating her sentence by chugging the rest of her beverage, “And it shows.”

The evening is cut short and it passes by quickly and in a blur, with everyone checking around the room multiple times for whatever the source of the music was-- to no luck. At some point, Misty discards the phone subtly onto the couch for Greg to find. Everyone around the room discusses their perspective of what had occurred, and Misty tries her best to participate-- although she is mostly spoken over by a crying Rosie and an overly anxious Linsdey.

It takes nearly an hour for Misty to find herself in her own room, after reassuring her nervous sisters that they would be fine sleeping in their rooms alone. She’s tried her hardest to brush Harry’s words about her laugh off, to stop thinking about them, and about him in general but she can’t. As she slips out of her clothes and into her pajamas, she finds herself thinking deeply about his smile.

Misty hears the most gentle knock on her door, pulling her from her thoughts. She finishes pulling her pajama t-shirt over her head before calling out a soft, “Come in.”

Harry manifests himself in her room without even opening the door, and Misty jumps when she sees him in the corner by her dresser. She rolls her eyes as she speaks. “You didn’t even need to knock.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Harry states, a smirk on his lips. “I didn’t know if you were changing.”

“You’re fine,” Misty says, plopping onto her bed. “I mean, I was changing, but like, you’re a ghost. You can walk through walls.”

“I am,” Harry says, “and I can. But I’m still respectful. What kind of a ghost do you take me for?”

Misty giggles, tossing a pillow at Harry. He dodges it-- not that he needs to-- and he snorts.

“Anyway, I just came in to say goodnight,” he says, his smile still wide on his face. “And to make sure I didn’t like… overstep tonight.”

Misty smiles back, ungracefully untucking the covers beneath her. “You didn’t overstep,” she says. “And anyway--” she doesn’t dare look at him as she continues her words, “I liked it.”

“Did you?” Harry seems completely unfazed, and Misty can hear the smirk on his face. It’s infuriatingly sexy.

“I did,” Misty says, finally turning to face him. She rolls her eyes when Harry is, of course, nowhere to be found, but she’s not even worried about it. She knows he’s still here. Her confidence grows in his absence. “I liked it a lot.”

“Did you?” He asks again, his voice lower and coming from behind her now. He’s close enough that he sends shivers down her spine, which don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs.

She turns around to catch his smile as he sits directly behind her on her bed, close enough that she can feel the crisp chill of his skin.

“Yes,” she says quietly, “I did. Told you I did.”

Once again, Misty feels hypnotized by his beautiful face. Harry knows this, and he hesitantly raises his hand to trail along her arm. She shivers again. Without meaning to, she leans into him. His smile tells her she’s not alone in the way she’s feeling right now.

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper.

Misty lifts her head, lips ghosting along the icy feel of his chin. “Did you?” she breathes.

“Did I what, sunshine?” Harry’s mouth seems to follow Misty’s own without kissing her, and it absolutely drives her crazy.

Misty gulps, gathering as much courage as she can muster. “Did you like it?”

With a cheeky grin, Harry removes his hand from Misty’s arm-- much to her dismay. She is knocked back to reality just as quickly as she’d left it, but his words make her insides flutter. “I fucking loved it.”

Misty giggles nervously, deciding to change the subject. “Everyone’s going to think I’m fucking crazy from here on out.”

Harry snorts. “No they won’t. They’ll forget. They’ll continue to think it was a weird occurrence, but they’ll forget that you were one of the only ones who didn’t.”

Misty frowns, jokingly. “So I’m forgettable then?’

Harry rolls his eyes, his smile deepening wider. “Hardly.”

Now Misty beams, ignoring the twisting in her stomach. “In all seriousness,” she replies, “You’re right. It was a weird night. I doubt my quick compliance to you was very memorable to them.”

“I liked your compliance.”

Harry says these words so softly that Misty has to look at him twice to make sure she’s even heard him correctly. He’s no longer looking at her, but the smile on his face makes Misty’s insides go weak, and she notices her own breath hitching in her throat.

“I--” she begins, not knowing where to even begin with a response to him. “I liked--”

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” Harry says. “You don’t have to say anything at all.” He smiles sheepishly at her after a moment. “I just want to tell you that you were right. That was the most fun I’ve had in years. And I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to!” Misty adjusts herself on the bed so she’s facing Harry more. “I had so much fun. You deserved it. And honestly--”

Mist trails off, licking her lips and preparing herself for what she’s about to say,

“I liked being the only one who could see you. And hear you.” Her voice grows quieter. “I liked you… Telling me what to do.”

Harry’s smirk deepens as he leans closer into Misty once again. His lips look so delicious, so inviting, Misty isn’t even sure what she’s looking at anymore.

Moments pass, with Harry and Misty both so close to one another that it’s overwhelming. Misty wants to kiss him more than anything else in her entire life, but she’s scared, and she pretends she doesn’t notice the way he melts when she sighs against his skin.

“Harry,” she breathes slowly, “I don’t know if it’s possible… but I--”

Harry stands suddenly, catching Misty off guard. “You should go to bed,” he says, quickly but sadly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to cut off the--”

“No you’re right,” Misty says, suddenly feeling completely self-conscious. She retracts into herself, crossing her arms along her lower body. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!”

“No, I know!” she lies. “But I… you know, I mean, it’s weird!”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists. “Misty--”

“I have to go to bed,” she says, scrambling ungracefully to get under the covers. “It’s time.”

Harry looks at her for a few more moments before blowing all of his air out in a loud puff. “It’s time,” he repeats. He steps cautiously towards her, then softens himself as he reaches for her hand.

Misty eyes his movements, then smiles as she gently takes his hand in her own.

There are a few more moments of charged silence, before Misty speaks

“Don’t end tonight on a weird note,” Misty jokes, smiling up at Harry. “I had so much fun with you.”

Harry gives her hand a squeeze. “I did too, sunshine. Promise.”

“And you’ll come back tomorrow?’ Misty asks. “And it won’t be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Harry laughs, and Misty, once again, grows flustered.

“I don’t know!” she whines. “I just feel weird!”

“Don’t feel weird,” Harry says, leaning forward. He kisses her head without thinking about it, and he ignores the slight shiver of her body when he does so. “Promise it’s not weird.’

She smiles up at him. “I liked tonight,” she says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I did too,” Harry reassures her, fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips so he can kiss it. “So fucking much.”

Misty stares at him for just a tick too long, then smiles to herself-- clearly happy with their conversation. She snuggles down under the covers and Harry, without hesitation, pulls them up further to tuck her in.

“You didn’t promise me you’d come tomorrow,” she says softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

Harry reaches across her and flicks off her lamp, allowing his eyes to focus in the darkness before speaking. “Of course I’ll come tomorrow,” he says. “I’ve come every other day, haven’t I?”

“I just hate the idea of waking up and you not being here, you know?” Misty opens her eyes, blinking softly up at Harry. ‘I want to have you while I still can.”

Something about Misty’s words breaks Harry’s heart, and he leans in impossibly closer to her. ‘You may have me whenever you like, pretty girl. I will be here whenever you call.”

“Promise?”

Harry can feel tears welling in his eyes and he absolutely hates it. He tries desperately to blink them away. “Promise.”

“Good.” Misty settles herself further under the covers with a content sigh.

“Get some sleep,” Harry mumbles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes as subtly as he can. God, he wishes he were human. More than anything in the world, he wishes he could give Misty the love she deserves-- fully.

“Okay,” Misty sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Tomorrow.”

Misty smiles. “Goodnight. Don’t watch me sleep, weird ass.”

Harry snorts at her words. Of course she’d end the night on that note. With a gentle “goodnight,” He rises to his feet and takes a few steps away from her bed, just so that she can’t detect his presence by his scent. He makes himself invisible to her while still watching her for at least another full two minutes.

The way he’s truly starting to fall for this girl is completely alarming, especially considering their circumstances. If he’d still had a beating heart, it would be breaking, and he hates the isolated yet heavy feeling in his chest as he watches her drift gently into unconsciousness. He wants her, plain and simple.

And as Misty’s thoughts turn into dreams, she can’t seem to get the ghostly boy out of her mind. She wants him, just as badly as he wants her. It’s something she fears she’ll never tell him, for obvious reasons, but she still allows herself to indulge in the visions of them experiencing a somewhat normal relationship together as she drifts into sleep.

And as the moon rises over the old, creaky house, both Harry and Misty find themselves imagining, if only for the night, that they can love one another the way they know they were meant to. Surely it won’t be enough to sustain their longing for one another. But for tonight, Harry knows that he’ll subtly pop into Misty’s dream. And he knows Misty will never mention it to him, but it will sustain them both for the time being. It will make them both happy.

And Misty’s happiness, Harry thinks, is the most important thing of all.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

Unusual Way - Loki x Reader - Words: 3,294 (including song lyrics)

A/N: Reader is Silver Shadow. However, this doesn't follow the same 'first meeting/falling in love' sequence as "Hurting Each Other".

Loki and you were best friends and had been for about 2 years now since he moved into the tower. It all started the day he'd moved in while you were out on a mission and no one had the brilliant idea to tell you that you were now sharing your floor with someone.

~ 2 Years Ago~

So there you were, exhausted and dirty from the fight, looking forward to a nice hot shower. You'd already taken off your cape in the elevator and as you got off and walked down the hallway to your bedroom, you started to pull at the zipper of your jacket.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be so forward."

"Who's there?" You yelled, not recognizing the voice that spoke to you. You whipped around, trying to see who it was that was speaking.

"Hello," A man suddenly said, appearing directly in front of you. You throw a quick punch but your hand goes right through him and he disappears. "Over here!" He exclaims, waving to you from a few steps away. You quickly draw one of your knives and throw it at him. Again it goes right through him.

"I said, who are you?" You demand, not having had a chance to get a good look at his face yet.

"Tsk tsk," He says, appearing once more, a few feet now away from you. "So impatient." As he talks you focus on the vase setting on the hallway table behind him and start drawing it towards you. If you time it just right, you can either hit him or, if he's not there again, stop it in time before it hits you. "I am Loki, of Asgard! And I am burdened wi-OW!" He yells as the vase hits his head. "Will anyone ever let me finish that thought?"

“Loki?” You screeched. “What are you doing here? Do the others know?” You asked, rushing up to the admittedly handsome man. Even during his attack on New York you couldn’t help but go a little starry-eyed at his presence.

“I am here to help. I,” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head again. “I’m here to work with you and your little team.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh! Well, I, uh, sorry about that," You stuttered, gesturing to his head. "Here, let me fix that." You reached up and touched the back of his head gently.

"Thank you," He replied with a small smile.

"Let's start over," You grinned. "Hi, I'm Y/N. I guess I'm your new floormate." He grinned back, still surprised by your kindness.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

~ 6 Months Later ~

"C'mon, Y/N!" Loki yelled down the hallway. "The pairs' free dance is about to begin!" You ran out of the bathroom, socks sliding on the hardwoods.

"Woah!" You exclaimed, sliding, or rather bodyslamming, into him. He of course caught you easily, being used to this occurrence, and laughed. A few minutes later you were both sitting on the couch with a rather large bowl of popcorn between you. "Those twizzles were completely out of sync. That's going to ruin their score."

"Perhaps," he commented, tossing another buttery snack in his mouth. "But their lifts have been perfect unlike the other couples." You shrugged and continued watching. You found yourself shivering, however, as you continued watching the programs.

"Has the thermostat gone down?" You asked. Loki got up and checked.

"No, are you cold?" He, of course, didn't notice any difference since he was, not only a Frost Giant, but also wearing a lovely sweater, you thought.

"Yeah, must be the ice," You joked, nodding at the television. You eyed his soft, grey sweater once again and decided that, even though it looked absolutely stunning on him, you needed it more.

"Um, would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater?" You asked nervously. He looked mildly surprised but quickly pulled it off and handed it to you. "Thanks," You said quietly. The past couple weeks you'd realized you had developed a minor crush on your new best friend. You didn't say anything, however, for fear of ruining said friendship. "It smells like you," You chuckled, pulling the jumper close around you. Loki blushed brightly and apologized.

"Sorry, so sorry. I can-I can get a new one from the wash." He went to get up, face still flushed in embarrassment.

"Loki, it's fine," You replied, stopping him. "I don't mind. Thank you for lending it to me." He smiled sweetly at you in reply.

"You're welcome. After all, what are friends for?"

~ 1 Year Later ~

"He's too pretty for his own good, Nat!" you complained, throwing quick punches at your sparring partner.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if he knew what's good for him, he would be so perfect all the time!" You blocked three punches and landed one of your own. "If he doesn't I might have to take matters into my own hands."

"Meaning you'll finally ask him out instead of driving us all crazy pining over him like you have been for the past year and a half or so?" She retorted with a smirk, flipping you to the ground and pinning your arms behind you. You groaned and rolled out from under her, standing and holding your hands up in defeat.

"No! Of course not! It means I'd have to ugly him up a little." Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Like you'd ever have the guts! C'mon! Be honest with yourself! You liked him since New York. Just put on your big-girl pants and tell him! And if you can't find yours, I can lend you mine," She teased, playfully slapping your butt.

"Watch it, Widow!" you snapped. "I'm going to the conference room if it's not in use. I don't want to be disturbed, ok?"

"Fine, just let me know all the juicy details when you finally have the guts to go back to your floor, ok?" You rolled your eyes and walked out.

"Finally alone," you sighed, tossing your gym bag in a chair and slumping down in another. "FRIDAY?”

"Yes, Miss Y/N?" The AI replied.

"Please shut the blinds and lock the door. Emergency override only."

"Yes, Miss." You closed your eyes, tears threatening to slip through.

"FRIDAY, shuffle Linda Eder from my library."

"Of course," The AI replied. When I Look In Your Eyes started playing and you leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes and tuning out the rest of the world. You were so focused on your music and trying to figure out your own feelings that you didn't hear the door open. The next song started and you chuckled humorlessly.

"This one's for you," You said to yourself, thinking of your best friend. You sang along as Unusual Way played.

“In a very unusual way, one time I needed you

In a very unusual way, you were my friend

Maybe it lasted a day, maybe it lasted an hour

But somehow it will never end

In a very unusual way, I think I'm in love with you

In a very unusual way, I want to cry

Something inside me goes weak, something inside me surrenders

And you're the reason why, you're the reason why

You don't know what you do to me

Don't have a clue

You can't tell what it's like to be me

Looking at you

It scares me so that I can hardly speak...

In a very unusual way, I owe what I am to you

Though at times it appears I won't stay, I never go

Special to me in my life, since the first day that I met you

How could I ever forget you, once you had touched my soul

In a very unusual way...

You made me whole”

When you finished you thought you heard a noise behind you but when you turned around there was no one there. You shrugged it off as your own overactive imagination and got up, gathering your stuff. When you got back upstairs, you found Loki in the kitchen. "Thought you might like some lunch," He explained.

"Oh, thanks," You replied, sitting down and letting him serve you. After a few minutes of silent eating you decided you needed to say something. "Loki, I-"

"Y/N, I-" You both laughed, having spoken at the same time.

"You first," You both said. Laughing again, you shook your head and motioned for him to go on.

"Y/N, I must confess something. I-" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I wasn't going to say anything because I was afraid of how you'd respond but," He chuckled nervously. "I believe I've fallen in love."

"Oh!" You gasped. You set down your fork, losing your appetite quickly. "So who's the lucky lady? Do I know her?" You asked, taking a sip of water trying to look casual.

"Yes you do," He replied, smirking. "She's very beautiful and talented. She's kind and helpful to everyone. And most importantly she-"

BZZT BZZT

"Uh, sorry," you said, looking at your ringing phone. "I should take this. It's Steve." Loki looked upset but nodded. "Hello?"

"Y/N? We've got a problem. Is Loki with you?"

"Uh, yeah, he is. Cap, what's wrong?" Loki got up and moved closer to listen in on the conversation.

"We just got intel on a new Hydra base. This one's different though. They have too many defensive procedures in place for us to just attack. We need someone on the inside. That's where you and Loki come in."

"You're sending us to work undercover in a base?!" You screeched.

"Yes, pack a few things and be on the helicarrier in an hour. I'll finish briefing you then."

Working on the inside was, of course, much harder than you'd expected. Thankfully no one here knew you from your actual Hydra days so that made it easier. You just hadn't expected being separated from Loki for so long. Especially after your interrupted conversation, you wanted to talk to him again. Steve assured you, though, it would be a quick mission and you could get back to your normal life within a few weeks.

~ 6 Months Later ~

"You have exactly 2 minutes to get out before this whole place blows, you got that?" Cap yelled through your comms. The mission had gotten complicated and had extended to 6 Months for you both. But now you and Loki had apparently collected enough info for Cap and the others to finally come and blow it all open. Although, none of you had expected a literal explosion. You grabbed the last of the information you needed and booked it out of there. Once you made it into the clearing where the others had regrouped, you looked around frantically as Cap took a head count. "Loki's not out yet!"

"What!" You exclaimed. "There's only 30 seconds!" Suddenly your comms crackled to life.

"Found...girl…trapped," Loki said. The static made it impossible to understand the sentence fully but you understood what he meant.

"Loki! Get out!" Steve yelled.

"I'm going in," You said. Steve yelled to stop you but you were too quick. You teleported in and found the two, trying to shelter themselves in a corner. "Loki!"

"Y/N?" He exclaimed, turning to see you. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to rescue you, you idiot! Now hold on." You reached out and grabbed Loki's and the girl's hands and teleported out just as the building exploded. Cap immediately went to help the girl, leading her back to the helicarrier.

"So," Loki said, looking at your hand still gripping his. You impulsively gave him a hug, the thought that you could have lost him starting to sink in. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," You replied, pulling away quickly. "I just-"

"Loki! Y/N! C'mon!" Cap called out. You were interrupted once more but ran to the helicarrier and rode back home in silence. When you landed back at the tower, you rushed to your bedroom and flung yourself on the bed face first.

"I need a life," You groaned. You heard Loki calling out for you so you rushed into the bathroom and quickly turned on the shower hoping that he would think you were in there and leave. Once you didn't hear him anymore you decided it actually was a good idea to take a shower so you adjusted the temperature and got in. A few minutes later you found yourself lost in the magical world of shower thoughts. Not wanting to get upset again, you decided on music. "FRIDAY, shuffle my library," You said.

"Right away," It replied. As you were dressing a few songs later, Unusual Way started playing and you thought back to the day you'd left for the mission. You sang along sadly, once again thinking of the man you loved who, apparently, loved someone else.

"You don't know what you do to me

Don't have a clue

You can't tell what it's like to be me

Looking at you"

You opened your door to go to the kitchen and Loki stumbled in. "Were you leaning on the door?"

"Maybe," He admitted, blushing. You stared at him, gesturing for him to explain. FRIDAY paused your music since you were talking and he glanced up at the ceiling. "I wanted to talk to you but I heard the shower start so I was going to leave but then I heard you singing and-"

"I don't like performing," You snapped, quite embarrassed that he'd heard you singing that song especially.

"But I want to hear you sing. Especially that song, you sing it so beautifully."

"How would you know? You heard me through a door," You scoffed. Pushing past him you walked out into the hallway, pulling your door shut behind you.

"Not six months ago I didn't." That stopped you in your tracks. Spinning around on your heel you marched back up to him.

"You heard me when?"

"In the conference room, the day we left for the mission. I'd gone to watch you practice and see if maybe you wanted to practice with me a little but Natasha said you'd left already. She told me where you were and that you didn't want to be disturbed but," He chuckled softly. "Has that ever stopped me?" You laughed and shook your head. "Well, I heard you singing and I decided to leave you be."

"Oh well, thanks I guess," You said, smiling softly, still embarrassed but not as mad anymore.

"May I ask, who were you singing to?"

"What do you mean?"

"When the song started you said 'this one's for you'. Who did you have in mind?"

"Oh," You said, surprised. You blushed brightly and shook your head. "Just someone I care for very much I suppose."

"You suppose?" He teased.

"Ok! I do care about him! Geez! You're as bad as Nat sometimes!" He laughed loudly and you could help but smile wider. You loved when he laughed like that, a real laugh that reached his eyes and filled the room. As you walked into the kitchen and sat down at the counter together, you quickly remembered your conversation at lunch that day though and frowned. "Unfortunately I don't think he quite thinks of me the same way."

"Why's that?" He asked, brows furrowing.

"I am quite sure he has his eyes on another girl."

"Is it the Captain?"

"Oh goodness no!" You immediately replied. "No, definitely not." His eyes suddenly lost their joy and he seemed almost scared to ask his next question. He got up and went to the window, putting quite a bit of space between you.

"Is it my brother?" He asked quietly.

"No! No no no! Never!" You exclaimed. You actually shuddered at the mental image. Realizing what needed to be done you teleported yourself in front of him with your back to the window. He startled and jumped back quickly. You smirked and stepped closer. "I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not a fan of blond's."

"Perhaps Banner then?" He stammered, trying to come up with an idea. You could not believe how clueless he could be.

"What? Ew! No!" You pretended to gag. "I like someone more fun, more mischievous," You grinned.

"Misch-oh," He breathed, finally figuring it out. You looked away, feeling embarrassment set in again. "Well, Y/N, I-"

"Look, I know you were trying to tell me before we left that you're in love and I couldn't be happier for you and I wish you all the best but I just needed you to know, ok?" You cried.

"But Y/N! You don't-"

"I'm sorry," You said, trying to run past him to lock yourself up in your room.

"Not so fast," He said, grabbing your arm.

"Wha-" You were cut off by a pair of lips meeting yours. He quickly pulled away, grinning like mad.

"You don't know what I've been trying and wanting to tell you! The girl I love is you, Y/N! I love you!"

"Me?" You squeaked, smiling giddily. He nodded and you laughed. "I cannot believe it. We've been idiots haven't we?"

"Most certainly," He agreed. He gave you another quick kiss and looked in your eyes. "I think I've loved you since we met but you know when I fell in love with you?"

"When?"

"When you borrowed that grey sweater and never gave it back." You gasped, eyes widening in surprise.

"I didn't realize I never returned it!"

"Oh sure! You wear it all the time!"

"I do no-oh," You paused, thinking about your closet. "Maybe I do," You chuckled. "Well, I actually liked you from the first time I saw you."

"When I scared you coming off the elevator?"

"No, 2012," You whispered. Loki stared at you, quite surprised. "I knew what you were doing was wrong but," You sat down on the couch, having wandered into the living area. "Somehow I understood you."

"Y/N, I don't know what to say. I, well, I was a very different man then and-"

"And you were pretty," You deadpanned.

"Ah, so my irresistible charms strike again." You both laughed and he sat beside you. "Y/N, I think we've been fooling ourselves for far too long. Now, you love me, right?"

"Yes!" You said emphatically.

"And I love you, right?"

"I sure hope so!" He grinned and you wondered where this was going. He stood up and took your hand in his.

"Well then, I should wish to officially court you if that should please you and have your approval," He said, bowing slightly.

"I accept," You replied immediately. You stood up and gave him a big hug. "Oh, Loki, thank you."

"You're welcome, my love. But I hope you know what this means."

"What?" You asked, pulling away just in time to see his smirk.

"It means you're no longer allowed to hog the popcorn bowl on skate night!"

"No," You retorted. "It means that as your girlfriend I can now officially tell you to get your own!" He gasped, playing offended.

"Why! I'm wounded!" He cried, holding his hand over his heart.

"Does this help?" You teased, placing your hand there instead.

"No," He smirked. "But this might," He said, pulling you in for another kiss. "I will never tire of that."

"Nor I," You sighed contentedly. "But we must stop for now."

"Why?"

"It's skate night and I need to get the popcorn ready!"

"Go sit down," He smiled. "I'll get it ready."

"Aw! How sweet!" You squealed. "Alrighty then." You walked back to the couch as settled in. "Loki, dear?" You called out towards the kitchen.

"Yes, darling?"

"Remember, 2 bowls!"

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

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@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

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Marvel (all characters) Taglist

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#loki #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki fluff

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moonbeamsung · 4 years

Text

Sink or Swim

You plunged deep into an ocean of love for Huang Renjun, the boy who had already fallen for the sea itself.

member: renjun

au: sailor!renjun x gn!reader

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst, fluff, slightly dystopian

warnings: character death/drowning, mentions of water (one passing mention of a typhoon and a very heavy focus on the ocean), light profanity

recommended song: when i was older by billie eilish

author’s note: Not only did the lyrics to the above song inspire this fic, but so did the general mood and sound of it :) I would recommend listening while you read, since I think it really adds to the atmosphere. My creativity took quite a while to cooperate on this one but I like how it turned out and hope you do as well, feedback is highly appreciated as always. Thanks to @astroboy-lele for her help beta-reading this (like 2 hours ago), and enjoy!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @hunjins

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet

The sleepy little fishing village you call home seems to sigh with the tides, waves lapping at the shore in a rhythm not unlike that of steady breaths. It’s the world’s way of inhaling the salty air, sometimes laced with the pungent scent of a fresh catch.

The sport itself is a life force here, the key to any sort of contact with the rest of civilization. Without it, the hill that the small town is nestled into might just swallow up the dozens of small brick buildings, reducing them to nothing but a memory. The murky waters would carry minuscule traces of its existence far and wide, but not even a name could break the surface.

Unfortunately, the village’s dependence on exporting fish leaves little room for the personal aspirations of its residents. At some point in your life, you’ll be called to assist with a certain aspect of the product’s distribution. The elders in charge find ways for even the most unskilled of hand and mind to participate, but they always save the hardest work for those who were born into it: the sailing families.

Quite literally, a love of the sea is in Huang Renjun’s blood.

His great-grandfather was around to see the beginnings of the seaside community, and he became the most famous fisherman known to the village by returning to the docks with large nets in tow, just bursting with sharp fins and thrashing tails. Those were the glory days, and generations later, the Huangs want their young son to follow in his footsteps, to become just as well-known for legendary angling expeditions.

But... he’s not really interested.

He would much rather take to the waves in a boat and chase the horizon, not bothering with casting a net or even a rod. To him, the ocean air is beyond suffocating, like a poison meant to expel any wanderlust from his lungs, to rip it from his soul. Renjun is a fiery spirit, and not even the crashing, slate-colored waters can dampen the adventurous spark burning bright and warm inside of him. It would take more than a typhoon to do so.

You admire that about him, too. How he holds a strong but steady resistance to the traditions of the village, the limited and meager expanse of the world that you’ve both lived in—no, been confined to—all your life.

Just think of the endless possibilities that await, beyond the hazy fog obscuring the fine line between land and sea. The faint shapes that loom in the distance, perhaps a trick of the eye but perhaps another sign of life besides you, seem so close but are still just out of your reach, teasing you both with what could lie outside this languid, ashen realm. Your heart races at the mere notion of such a thing.

The waves are impossibly blue when their image is reflected in Renjun’s dark eyes; you notice this one dreary afternoon as you let your feet dangle above the gentle ripples, sitting at the edge of one of the many docks that tangle through a mess of sailboats and fishing gear. The burnt orange of his threaded sweater stands out against the rest of the scenery, so monochromatic you sometimes swear the world is black and white.

He’s a splash of color, a splash of adventure and determination among a colorless mass of villagers who wouldn’t trade the way things are right now for anything. The dull, scuffed toes of his boots drag along the wooden planks as he trudges towards you, settling down at your side with a small gust of wind. Both anticipating and dreading the impending day when his father would teach him how to take to the seas and steer the boat that’s run in his family for generations, Renjun finds himself at the humble and rickety marina often. Anticipating because that knowledge would enable him to change the course of his own life on his own terms, and dreading because he knew of the harsh disapproval those actions would receive.

But still, Renjun stays right there on the dock next to you, diving past the shallows of his conscious mind and into the darkest, deepest abyss of his own thoughts, letting them bubble and sputter up and puff into the air like sea spray. If both your hearts are oceans of their own, they collide in this moment, as his ambitions and aspirations spill over into yours and settle on the seabed below. He’s chosen you to entrust these secrets with. You, the only other resident of the village with a familiar restlessness in your eyes when the sun disappears below the distant horizon, gaze wistful and longing to do the same.

And as if they’re the precious riches of a mythical swashbuckling pirate, you keep them there, each word a golden coin or sparkling gem hidden away in a long-lost treasure chest. The twilight sky that evening is the most vivid you’ve ever seen it, and daylight is fading fast by the time Renjun finishes telling you everything.

“I never knew there was someone who felt the same way I did about all this.”

The realization sets in late, just as the weathered surface you’re both perched on sways in the wind. You fear for a second that you might slip forward into the icy water; that’s how strong the breeze whipping through the air around you feels. That, or it’s due to the sheer force from your heart as it swells at finally meeting someone you’ve admired from afar for what feels like an eternity, ever since you understood what life was like and what it meant for you here.

Sure, Renjun’s grandfather may have been well-known in the past for one reason, but to you, Renjun is creating a legacy of his own for another, one of more than just adolescent rebellion and defiance. It’s one of undoubtable self-awareness, of an adamant refusal to conform to an existence he hadn’t chosen, and he’s finding a way to alter what he’s been seemingly destined for all his life.

“Me neither,” you shake your head, still in a small fraction of euphoric disbelief. “All that’s left to do now is stow away on a ship together in the dead of night, I suppose.” The comment is joking, but he takes it more seriously than you anticipated. The cloudy sky above brightens with his eyes.

You convene in shadowy alleys when no one’s looking, wasting away the hours as you mutually yearn for just a sliver of knowledge of the unknown, enthralled by the waves in the distance and what lies below and above and beside. Renjun sometimes whisks you away to a steep overlook that provides a panoramic view of the beach, the powdery sand so far beneath your bare feet gray enough to pass for finely packed pebbles. You find yourself melting into his embrace like the sea melts into the sky, blurring the already thin lines between air and water and between friendship and love. The way his fingers encircle your wrist with a curl like that of a cresting wave is telling enough on its own. His heart belongs to two bodies now.

You can’t help but notice all the similarities he bears to the element you’ve never lived a day of your life without seeing, without hearing the undulations of, without smelling or tasting the salty tang it brings to the air. Always moving, a force to be reckoned with, and evidently a possessor of the ability to travel far and wide on even the most fleeting of whims.

He’s utterly himself around the water, too. You’re almost positive he could effortlessly duck beneath the surface, take a breath, and his lungs would drink it in as if it was air. The only place he doesn’t feel like drowning is below the waves.

“Look!” Renjun points out an unfamiliar vessel tied down at the far end of the pier one day, sails torn in jagged lines as if they had been slashed by a larger-than-life creature. Upon closer examination, you find that the wooden bow of the sailboat is splintering and the windows into the cabin are shattered. The name carved into the hull is simply too faded for you to decipher the letters.

“This boat must’ve gone through hell and back,” you comment, your response delayed like an echo. “Who do you think it belongs to, anyway?”

He’s lost within a symphony of thoughts before he answers, “No one.”

Both incredulous and doubtful, you whip around to meet Renjun’s assured gaze. “No one ever comes and no one ever goes, it’s that simple. These same boats have been docked for years. They’ve belonged to the same families one decade after another.” The boy sighs, scanning the horizon for anything that might appear the slightest bit unusual. “The real question is where it came from.”

You have no answer for him.

“Regardless,” he speaks up again, quite matter of factly, “It’s ours now.”

“Ours?”

“Yes, ours. You said you’d sail away with me, right?”

It certainly isn’t the aspiration you would have envisioned yourself pursuing. You could have chosen to quietly obey, to live and work exactly as you were told by a community so rigid that you felt frozen to the bone. Not like the pleasant chill of the ocean, rather a restrictive pair of icy shackles, ever-tightening around your limbs and subduing your mutinous thoughts. But here you are, longing for a little something more both in life and with the only person that understands your heart’s deepest desires like they’re his own. And at their core, they are.

Without fear, Renjun takes a confident stride onto the boat’s deck, turning back to you and offering his hand as you mimic the action. “What are you waiting for?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

A warm thrill courses through your veins, growing hotter with each small preparation you make towards your inevitable departure. It’s an affair of many weeks, but at last you’ve gathered all of the necessary supplies and courage to carry out your plan.

The day finally comes, the day you’ll spring into action and take hold of your futures by the ropes, no one but yourselves telling you how or where to steer.

On the most moonlit night you’ve ever been alive to witness, you and Renjun both slip out from underneath your fraying comforters, unbeknownst to the rest of your households. Save for your two restless souls, the entire village is sound asleep, the unceasing lullaby of the tides casting its steadfast spell on bodies and minds like clockwork. Wooden floors so hollow and dusty that they barely creak under your weight, you successfully glide out your respective front doors in silence like translucent spirits.

No one else in the village had even acknowledged the foreign ship’s presence, but this shouldn’t surprise you, not in the slightest. The thick, colorless fog of life had long since settled around the shoulders of anyone and everyone who allowed it to, ensnaring them in a mind-numbing, monotonous routine. It blocks out the sun and the rain, the light and the darkness. It’s all so sickeningly the same. Empty eyes can’t pay any mind to their surroundings. Meanwhile, yours are full of hope, the brightest in the land.

In the distance, Renjun appears as vibrant and sprightly as ever. His form cascades down a flight of stone steps, leading from the sheer hills clustered with homes onto sea-level ground, and glides over the small dunes of sand separating you. He reaches the edge of the beach and your side a minute later, the thump of his heart keeping time with the tides. A nod, and you’re sprinting towards the docks, fingers trembling in excited anticipation.

It isn’t until after you’ve clumsily set sail that you see the ominous shadows of dark clouds laid out ahead, directly in your path. Even in the dead of night, a flash of distant lightning illuminates the world in a harshly jagged blaze for as far as the eye can see, as it strikes some unknown location out in front of the sailboat.

You’re certain the repairs you’ve spent days and nights working on with Renjun will be enough to keep the ship intact, despite the weather you’re sure to endure if you continue on this route. So you press on, missing the apprehension furrowing his eyebrows.

But because every force of nature has decided to convene against you both for reasons eternally unknown, the harsh winds weave their way in between the threads your careful hands had stitched on the canvas, meant to catch the breeze but being torn apart by it instead. Suddenly you’re struggling to hold on to your balance and you feel as flimsy as a leaf in a blustering current of cold, crisp wind.

Perhaps you should have practiced first. Renjun had not yet received a single ounce of training from his experienced father, and it was far from wise to leave the only life you’ve ever known without any knowledge of how to get to your next one. He’s trying to hide his panic now, wavering between the steering controls and warily glancing up at the gloomy midnight sky. One more flash of lightning, and all goes awry, all at once.

The water around you surges, as if physically drawn to the heavens, and more falls from above. Raindrops pelt down onto your arms and soak your hair, drenching the sails and filling the shallow hull almost instantly. Wave after towering wave crashes down, hard, and you’re no longer certain which way is up. About to lose your footing, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle like the snug hold of a life preserver.

Before all vitality can be lost and smothered by the raging ocean, a desperate Renjun holds fast to you, your thin clothes clinging to the damp skin of his hands. The storm is just too much, and there’s no way you’ll see the journey through like you had hoped. It’s difficult, excruciating even, to accept, and even more difficult for Renjun to let go of you like this. He’ll fight until the end, fight the fates and the invisible forces that life entails to hold you for just a few more seconds.

He won’t be able to live with himself, even in whatever afterlife may or may not come after the darkness he already sees, feels closing in on him, if he doesn’t sacrifice his last breath for a final moment of bliss, of you.

The sensation of Renjun’s wan lips pressing into yours overwhelms and surpasses all others, his palms tracing the edges of your figure like the tides trace the sandy shore. Urgently he draws you close up against him, trying his best to shield you from the inescapable terror of the sea. A lifetime’s worth of energy and emotion and passion is expended, making up for all the time in the world he wouldn’t and couldn’t have. The tang of saltwater meets your tongue, and you’re not sure if it’s the taste of him or of the ocean.

A weak tug on your palpitating heart, an internal scream in your ringing ears tells you that you should resent him for this, for propelling you forward in your apparently unachievable fantasies of living the life you wanted for yourself. But you don’t, you can’t. It’s no one’s fault, really. With this thought, a peaceful stillness washes over you amidst the chaos, and your awareness of the boy in your embrace fades steadily, slowly, then rapidly. Reality is getting paler, more black and white than ever, and you’re sinking further and further down towards the ocean floor miles below. The faint light of the moon becomes distorted from underneath the water, blurring with your failing vision. It all slips away, and then there’s nothing.

It’s a shame no one in the village takes notice of the two extra stars that blink into existence on that moonlit night, but yours and Renjun’s souls take their place among the rest, both a warning and a calling to anyone who dared attempt what you did. Two guiding lights pointing any other dreamers towards the hope of a better, brighter future.

102 notes · View notes

minniepetals · 5 years

Text

Rose & Thorns: 03

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader x dragon!jimin / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 6.0k

— warnings: orphan reader, insecurities, other members are still jerks but better here, insomnia, reader not eating, mentions of Jimin’s bad eating habits, emotional/physical health risks, hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

The thorns grew and grew drastically over just one night.

A night filled with terror, of coldness, of the hard floor below you, and bars of rusted silver that kept you a prisoner of the dragons.

In the dungeon where no one could hear you, you cried your heart out without fear of being heard. No one would care anyway and you were sure that all along, they wanted to find some sort of excuse to keep you as a prisoner rather than a guest to their clan.

They got what they wanted in the end and there you were, sleepless nights passing by with little hopes of Jungkook visiting. But you knew that with the days going by and he had yet to come by, he was either still severely injured or he was already sort of healed and the princes denied him access to the dungeon.

Rather than a wall being built around you, they were the thorns that encircled at every angle from your sides, surrounding you everywhere and that, that was an even harder obstacle to escape.

Dealing with others was a little easier but to be kept alone with your thoughts in the dark and deep dungeon was the biggest mistake because you could easily be torn apart all from just you alone.

Everything around you, you became to fear.

Silence, it was all silent. Even more silent than the silent glares and thoughts from the other dragons when you had once nested in one of Seokjin's medicine nests. And with that silence, your thoughts became the thing you feared the most.

"What's the point in giving you food when you're not going to eat?" The head of the guard, prince Jimin, scoffed as he came back for another round to collect the plate of untouched food in his hand. "This can fill our dragons yet we have to waste it on you. The least you can do is eat." And then, he walked away, footsteps draining from your ear with each step he took.

You couldn't eat. Not in that state.

What was the point of being a prisoner anyways? You'd rather rot away than to live on behind bars. It was something you never imagined would happen but things were changing and each day only got worse and worse. If only you lasted one more night without being a complete incompetent, then you would have left the dragon clan on your own will.

But fate really liked playing around with you, didn't it? After all, you were one of the few who didn't deserve a happy ending.

"Y/N?"

You gasped at the familiar sound of heaven, an angel coming to your rescue and the tears fell more and more.

From all that crying you had done the past week, you didn't think you'd have more to spear but there they were, spilling out from your eyes the second you caught sight of Jungkook who stood on the other side of the bars, wearing a white sleeveless v neck shirt and black jeans. The bandages on his left shoulder peeked out and you cried a little more because it was your fault again. Your fault he had gotten hurt.

"Are you alright?" You asked him and Jimin who stood a few feet away, hidden from your focus, blinked in confusion at your first words.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had tears welled up in his eyes at the sound of your weak voice. The sight of you made him want to punch the thick walls out of frustration because if he hadn't said anything about that Jinyoung dude, you would have never gotten sent into the dungeons. Yet despite the position you were in, behind bars and haven eaten nothing, your pale complexion and the bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, the first words you asked of him was whether he was alright or not.

"Why are you asking me that?" His voice cracked as he reached out with hands that trembled to hold your face through the bars. You were selfless, the most selfless person he had ever met. Despite hurting on your own, you only cared about him. "You should be worrying about yourself, Y/N," he scolded you, drops of tears falling away as he brushed away your own tears instead. "You should be asking your own self whether you're alright or not and blaming me for putting you here in the first place."

But you shook your head, sniffling. "It isn't your fault. Jinyoung went after you because of me."

Jungkook's face crumbled in pain. "Will you stop blaming yourself for once?" He asked, hiccuping as he went, crying for you. "Will you start caring for your own happiness and health instead of everyone else's? Stop being selfless for once and care about your own self."

"I'm fine."

"You're dying and I can't do anything to help!" His loud voice bellowed against the walls as he punched at the bars, causing you to flinch back. Jungkook's cries followed him throughout the airy corridors of the dungeons, all of it Jimin was hearing.

What was so special about you that they had lost their maknae to? Why had the maknae cared so much to the point where he wouldn't speak to any of them anymore because they kept you locked up behind bars? Jungkook should've known that you were the threat and that they were only trying to protect him. But he was blinded for some reason and wouldn't listen to a word his hyungs were trying to get into him.

And it was all your fault. You changed Jungkook.

"You aren't fine, Y/N, nothing about this is fine," the man went on as he clutched the bars tightly, angry at the fact that he couldn't just rip them apart to reach you. The bars were far too strong for him. It had been built that way for the longest time so that any prisoner that was held in could never escape. If he could rip apart the bars, however, he'd want to hold you in his arms, keep you away from all harm and let you cry against him. But he couldn't do anything and could only watch as you stood there barely able to even stand due to the loss of energy and strength and that was what was killing him the most.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," he whispered, head leaned against the bars. "I was supposed to give you a home, not lead you to live behind bars. We weren't supposed to switch places."

Jungkook could still remember the first day you approached the silver bars he had been locked up into, a peppy voice that called for him, deeming yourself as the keeper of the dragon. No one had been brave enough to guard a dragon, only you. But perhaps it wasn't just the bravery that held you accountable, perhaps you had taken that job in order to escape the eyes of the villagers, in hopes of finding someone else who would accept you because he was also different.

Jungkook listened, each and every day, to your endless stories. Some of them were of you growing up as that brave child who fell at no one because even though she was a child with no parents, she wasn't going to let that define who she was. Sometimes the stories consisted of adventures outside of your village, your imaginations leading you so far as if you had indeed conquered all of the lands you could reach.

He could still remember those shiny eyes that glowed of a thousand starlights, the beaming smile, the giggles that were music to his ears.

But as he looked at you now, your light dimmed, giving into the darkness, frail and weak, eyes filled with glossy waterfalls waiting for the dam to break down so that it could flood away freely. He reached through the bars again, holding your face with gentle touches as if he was too afraid you'd break under his hold, as if you were made up of some delicate glass. And he cried some more for being the one to cause your smile to vanish.

"I'm so sorry," Jungkook whispered and Jimin could hear how broken his voice was, how Jungkook wished he could do something about it but not having enough power to do so, and his heart ached at just the sound his mate was making.

"One day we'll be happy again," he continued on, "one day we'll find that beautiful smile of yours again and you'll never have to cry again except for the tears of joy."

We.

Jimin's hands balled into a fist, knowing exactly how much his little maknae had fallen and he leaned away from the wall, stepping back and away, leaving. He couldn't hear it any longer. He couldn't bear to hear any more of Jungkook's silent love for you.

"Promise?" You asked of the dragon in front of you.

Jungkook nodded and a few more tears fell. "I promise."

"Eat."

You looked up at the presence of Jimin who knelt down in front of the bars where you sat on the other side, arms hugging your knees due to the coldness of the dungeon.

"Please," he said and your eyes widened, surprised. A part of Jimin wanted to just leave after placing the plate in front of you, he wanted to scoff at his useless plead and not see you for even a second more but the longer he stared, the harder it was to not care about how weak you had looked. There were no tears in your eyes but it looked as if you could topple over and break at any moment. He could see the signs of insomnia, the frail part of your arms where your dress was torn, and the eyes that looked dead. Dead but alive. And for a moment he almost felt bad for what he and the others had done to you.

But then he was reminded again of the reasons as to why you were locked up in the first place and he looked away, sighing with a bit of annoyance.

"Jungkook refuses to eat unless I report back to him that you've eaten and I can't lie to him. He'll know and I can never bear to lie to any of my mates."

Jungkook?

Your eyes fell at the plate of food provided for you. You had no desire to eat despite your empty stomach. You've learned to ignore your growling stomach the past few days but hearing the fact that Jungkook was going to refuse to eat for your sake, your stomach churned.

"You have to eat," Jimin said, "for his sake," and with a bit of hesitation, "and for yours."

When he came back a few hours later, the plate wasn't empty but he could see some clear signs of you haven eaten and left without a word after collecting the plate.

"You better not be lying to me," Jungkook glared at the man in front of him, a serious and firm tone set in his voice.

Jimin sighed and showed him your plate of food to which Jungkook was quick to smile at, only for it to slowly disappear as he stared at the amount that was still left on the plate.

"She didn't eat all of it," he uttered lowly with a bit of disappointment.

Jimin sighed, putting the plate away on an empty table as he began walking off. "You can't expect her to eat everything all at once after going on a fasting for days, Jungkook, that's not how things work."

"But shouldn't she be hungry? Why-"

"If she stuffs herself fully, she'll harm her health even more. She isn't going to be eating much for the time being, her stomach has shrunk."

"Shrunk...?" His voice whispered.

Watching his mate walking away without another word, Jungkook's eyes fell back down to the floor after being reminded that of course Jimin would know. He's starved himself before due to insecurities and the anxieties that ate him up.

A soft sigh left him as he was reminded that once again, he was no help to the ones he cared about.

"Who's Jinyoung?"

"Jinyoung?" You looked away with a bitter taste on your tongue as you said the name. "He was...an admirer."

"Admirer?" Jungkook's face scrunched up with disgust and a bit of anger at that distasteful word.

"He's the captain of the soldiers and, well..sort of found me attractive so he decided to try and win my heart."

"I'm assuming that didn't work out too well on his part?" Jungkook scoffed, wanting to laugh because no one would be worthy enough to win your heart. No one deserved you.

"He couldn't take the hint," you told him, eyes falling distant all of a sudden. "He kind of lusted over me and some days he'd try to follow me into the dungeon when I'd go to meet you but I always refused every advance he'd make. Every time we saw each other, he'd tell me that I should be happy someone wanted me because...you know...no one in the village really liked me."

Upon hearing your words, Jungkook held onto the bars with a tight grip as his jaws clenched tightly. "He has no right to say such a thing," the dragon growled. "I swear, if I see him again, I'll rip him up into pieces for saying such-"

"Jungkook." You touched his hands and that was enough for him to calm down, to remember that he was in front of you, a vulnerable human who needed all the hugs and love in the world.

"Sorry," he coughed a little awkwardly, sitting back down properly. He wondered why that little touch was just enough to have him blushing, why your voice and touch alone was enough to calm his mighty self down.

You giggled a little at the cute dragon in front of you and Jungkook's head shot up, eyes widened before he turned into a grinning sun.

"Keep doing that."

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Keep smiling, Y/N, keep laughing, keep being happy even if it lasts for one second."

"Jungkook..."

His eyes teared up again, throat clogging as he looked into your eyes. "I miss it," he told you, "I miss your smile so damn much. I miss the stories you'd tell me, the little laughs you'd give yourself because of something funny you'd say. I miss you being happy."

You could only stare at him for a second longer before your eyes fell to the floor because the both of you knew that if you were going to be truly happy, you'd have to leave the dungeons first.

"Jungkook," Namjoon's hands balled into fists as he watched the youngest of the seven getting up from the dinner table, "let me ask you something." The maknae paused in his tracks, taking his time as he took a deep breath before turning around to face his leader, asking him silently to go on. "What does that human mean to you? You seem to care more about her these days."

"It's only natural," Jungkook bluntly stated.

"What the hell do you mean it's only natural?" Yoongi growled. "Have you forgotten who we are?"

"We're your mates," Taehyung stressed.

"And she-"

"Isn't your mate."

"I didn't say she was," he glared at Hoseok before staring back down at the floor. "She's my friend, someone I care a lot about. Have you not been hearing anything I've been telling you?" The maknae asked, frustration clear in his tone as he looked up, challenging the others. "She saved my life and you're putting her in the dungeon, the same place I used to reside in yet you ask me why in the world I care so much. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be back here safe in one piece. She risked her own life for my sake, left a world that hated her to find a better place only to be hated on again for no apparent reason. Instead of blaming her for everything, maybe you should look past your stupid jealousy selves and see the truth in this."

And with that, Jungkook stomped away without letting any of them utter another word.

While the rest of them sighed in frustration, Jimin, on the other hand, sat there silently staring into a blank space. He didn't know what to do, but perhaps not everything had been your fault after all.

"Are you okay? You look a little frustrated." You looked at Jungkook with worry filling your face, a little pout resting upon your lips. "Did something happen with your mates?" You worried.

He sat there with his knees bent and a little spread apart, forearms resting against it and hands meeting to hold at the center. "I don't think we'll ever be truly happy again if they don't set you free."

Your heart fell for him, aching at how broken he looked. "I'm sorry."

"No," Jungkook shook his head, sighing, "don't apologize."

"But—"

"I'll fix it one way or another," he said cutting you off. "They're my mates, I won't lose them forever. I'm just angry at them for doing this to you."

"You shouldn't blame them, they don't know-"

"Which is why they should listen to me but they aren't!" He ran a hand against his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. "Sure I'm the maknae and they're older and wiser but there are some things that I know more than them, like being locked up in a dungeon against my will. It's lonely and scary and you've always helped by just being there which is why I try to get permission to come down here but because they resent you for no reason, I can't come here as often as I want to."

You looked at him with eyes of sympathy. Jungkook loved his mates and they loved him, they were made for one another, which was why no matter what feelings you had for Jungkook, you had to keep them away because he had his own soulmates. You couldn't ruin that relationship for them. So you decided that if you were ever set free, you'd leave the mountains and travel on your own for their sake. It'd save their relationship at least, you leaving. After all, the only reason why it had begun to fall apart was because of you.

"Don't get angry at them for too long, Jungkook."

Jimin, who was walking towards your cell after leaving the dinner table, paused in his steps at the sound of your voice and waited. Waited to hear what you were going to say.

"Try to understand them, listen to each other. They have their own reasons for things and if you only see that you're right in this, then it'll only frustrate them even more and you'll end up never resolving this problem. You're both alike in that sense, you're both wrong because of it. Don't think that everything you have to say is right because I'm sure they're hurt as well over the fact that you're refusing to listen to them. Face this challenge with a calm and mature talk and maybe then they'll listen to what you have to say."

"What if they don't listen to me?"

"They'll listen," you were sure of it. "You're mates, Jungkook, and they love you. But you have to listen to them first."

After hearing your words, the head guard took a step back as a small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps that as soulmates, they should listen to one another before letting anger and jealousy get the best of them.

"Why don't you sleep?"

You looked up at the sound of Jimin's voice and blinked in confusion. Why was he awake in the middle of the night? (you assumed it was the middle of the night since the dungeon was nowhere near a sky that could tell you the time)

"You lay there awake every night," he said notably. "Are you insomniac?"

You sat up from the cold, hard floor with a bit of trouble due to your loss of strength. There wasn't much light in the dungeon, you could only see a little bit of Jimin's face after having adjusted to the dark room. It was lighter at daylight where some of the sun's light passed into the dungeon but the night made it completely dark.

"It's not that I can't sleep," you told the dragon, "it's just...it's scary."

"The nightmares?"

"That and..." You looked at the floor, a little embarrassed for yourself. "I can't sleep without some bit of light," you confessed, "the darkness scares me. It was easier sleeping in one of prince Seokjin's medicine nests because the moon shone some light but here, there are no windows. It's completely dark."

"Oh," Jimin whispered.

The room was silent for a long moment until you heard some footsteps walking away and you looked away disappointedly. Sure Jimin probably hated you but to have someone there to talk to you late at night had helped from thinking about the scary things at night.

You missed the light. So, so much.

Yet it was stripped away from you just like the light in your heart. If only you could have a physical light, if only. Because at least that would keep you a bit of company. The darkness was scary.

Your breathing became a little staggering at the scary thoughts invading your mind and you could feel your tears beginning to fall.

It was scary. So scary.

The thoughts, the darkness, every noise you could hear even if it had only been just the wind.

But then you heard the footsteps again, this time with a flickering light and your head was quick to look towards the source.

You crawled yourself over towards the bars, holding onto it to search for the light. It was just a little but something you wanted so badly.

It grew more and more until you caught sight of Jimin. Jimin who came walking towards you with a candle in his hand.

You watched him curiously, eyes following his every move even until the moment he stood in front of you.

"Will this help?" He asked, crouching down to your eye level with the candle in hand. The sight of your tears made his heart ache. Just a little. "It was the only candle I could find here," he said, looking away from you because he knew that those tears alone would weaken him. Jimin hated tears. "It'll burn away before dawn arrives but hopefully by then you'll be asleep."

"Thank you," you whispered into the silent night, voice a little broken as you sniffled and wiped away your tears. "Thank you so much."

He didn't know why but seeing you like that, hearing your voice, he wanted to take out his keys to unlock the door and pull you into his arms. To keep you from crying, to hold you so that you'd feel safe and secure despite your living environment.

"You shouldn't thank me," Jimin said shamefully, "I was one of the people who brought you here in the first place."

He sat the candle down and stood up, ready to leave you be.

"Even so," he stopped at your voice, "I needed a little bit of light and you gave it to me. So thank you, prince Jimin."

Totally different from what you had ever thought about, Jimin became the person that replaced Jungkook's safe presence.

He brought you a warm blanket and pillow, apologizing for the dungeons not having any beddings mostly because the only prisoners they've had had only been dragons, and he was there to make sure you had eaten. Even if that meant a little. Because a little went a long way and Jimin didn't force you to eat any more than you'd take.

Maybe he understood how it felt. Maybe he knew what it felt like to try and heal through the process of eating again. Whatever his reasons to try and make you feel comfortable in the dungeon, whether it was on his own will or because Jungkook had begged him to, you were nevertheless thankful for every kind gesture you never knew you'd ever receive. Thankful that it was he who had the role of the head guard.

The night became a little less scary with him there. He brought back a new candle each night, spoke to you and you'd make little conversation here and there until you fell asleep. Some part of you felt as if Jimin was there to make sure you'd indeed sleep rather than staying awake all night with thoughts that'd haunt you. His small conversations would keep you away from thinking about anything scary or bad, kept you distracted when night fell upon the clan. Some nights you'd worry because some nights were worse than others. You kept your tears away though, for his sake, and because of the fact that you didn't like crying in front of someone you weren't really used to.

He had a castle to return to, soulmates to sleep with, but kept awake doing his duties. You were probably the only prisoner at the moment and the reason why he stayed away late into the night, only leaving when you finally fell asleep. Some nights you'd pretend to sleep just for his sake, so that he'd be able to head home to his mates a little quicker.

And for every night he stayed up for you, you silently thanked Jimin who became that light source you never knew he'd be.

"Wow," Jungkook looked at you in awe as he sat down in front of the bars, a smile resting upon his face at the sight of you. "You've gained some light since I've gone."

"Have I?" You asked, touching your face gently out of curiosity. There were no mirrors in the dungeon so you had no idea how you looked but took his word for it. Jungkook never lied after all.

"Sorry, by the way," he apologized, head hung in shame as he pouted because he was ashamed he couldn't be there for you as often as he wanted. "You were there for me all the time when I was locked up but I haven't visited for a while."

"That's because I was the keeper of the dragon," you reminded him a little teasingly, "it was my job, Jungkook."

At the lightness in your tone, Jungkook beamed. "Thank goodness," he sighed in relief and his eyes glistened with a few tears but he was quick to blink them away. "Thank goodness I can hear this voice again."

You smiled a little and his lips widened.

"It was Jimin, wasn't it?" You looked at him with a bit of confusion and Jungkook looked away, chuckling a little to himself. "Jimin can't hate someone forever, that's just how he is. He never resents for a long time because his kind heart refuses him to. You can tell with that," he gestured at the blanket and pillow just behind you, "to keep you warm through the night and this," he held up the shortened candle that had melted from the fire the night before, "to keep you from being scared of the darkness."

"Ah.."

"When Namjoon sent you to the dungeons, a part of me was a little relieved because you'd have Jimin watching over you, I knew that he'd eventually come to care at one point or another. Sorry it took so long."

You shook your head, a tight smile on your face. "I'm better than I was, you shouldn't apologize for something you had no control over."

"Either way," Jungkook looked back at you, "I haven't even done anything and Jimin's already starting to care about you. Maybe that's your magic." You cocked your head to the side. "You're easy to like, Y/N, once they start looking past your history and see you for just you. You're easy to like."

To fall in love with, he wanted to say but refused himself to.

It wasn't right.

If only he was able to face the truth, if only he could understand the things he was feeling without feeling any guilt towards himself and the others.

But as Jungkook stood in front of his hyungs a few hours later, minus Jimin who held the responsibility of watching over the prisoners, he was conflicted on what to say.

"What we're worried about is the fact that...you've changed."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes to try and keep himself calm and situated. He promised you that he'd listen to them, to try and save his relationship before things could get any worse.

"I've changed?" He asked Namjoon, wondering what part of him that they saw had changed.

"Ever since you've come back from the humans, Jungkook," the healer replied, "you've been more distant and worried every day about the human girl."

"I have a right to."

"Perhaps you do," Yoongi nodded though a little hesitant, "perhaps you feel responsible because she saved you."

"Or perhaps you're worried for a completely different reason."

He looked up at Hoseok, brows furrowed. "Why do you think that?"

"We're mates, Jungkook," Taehyung reminded him. "Seven mates. And because there's more than just two in a relationship, we can see and understand when the others are in love with one another. We've gotten used to it and so have you."

Jungkook couldn't deny that. He's seen the way one of them looked at his other hyungs, the soft smiles that would lift upon their faces at the sight of another returning home, the sigh of relief and worry for when one of them got hurt. It was always there, from the first moments they found love within each other. He knew that feeling, seen it since years ago.

"The reason why we're upset is the fact that we see that with you towards the human girl."

He gulped at Namjoon's declaration and a rush of guilt rushed through his body all over again. He was hurting them and as much as he tried to not think about you in such ways, Jungkook couldn't even if he wanted to.

"What's so special about her, Jungkook?" The eldest asked, his eyes filled with pain. "Why a human girl?"

"I know you all don't have good pasts with humans," the youngest acknowledged as his lips pressed into a thin line, nodding slightly. "I know that humans are vile creatures who see us as animals who has no worth but to be a slave. And maybe I would've still thought the same back in that dungeon after getting caught by them but..." his voice trailed off and the memories of your beautiful voice and smile walked into his mind. "When I said that Y/N saved me, I also mean that figuratively."

His voice began to soften but they could hear every word and perhaps that alone had begun to hurt each of their hearts, watching their littlest mate fall for another.

"The dungeon isn't fun, it's dark and scary and so, so lonely. I used to cry silently to myself because I regretted ever leaving without telling anyone, because I missed home, because I missed you guys. But Y/N walked in like a little firefly who gave me a little bit of light, a little bit of hope in freedom again. She'd go on and on about all sorts of stories, sometimes laughing to herself at her own jokes and dumbness. Sometimes I'd think to myself that if it wasn't for her voice and presence, I would have gone crazy staying there in that dungeon all alone without any contact with the outside world. She was the only one brave enough to stay beside a dragon all day long until her duties were over, returning every single time without missing a day."

"When I finally spoke and showed her my appearance, her eyes would be the prettiest stars I had ever witnessed, and her smile would glow of the brightest sun. She'd steal some clothes from her own villagers to keep me warm, stole their medicines in order to treat my wounds, and went against the rules to steal the keys and take me out of the dungeon despite knowing the price to pay was her own life. She took that risk because of me and that's why I brought her here." He looked up at them all, eyes filled with grief and tainted with tears that brimmed at his waterline.

"I brought her here because she never had a home back at that village. Everyone treated her like crap yet when she met me, she treated me as an equal even though she had never received love of any sort. I brought her here because I thought that you'd try and accept her for who she was, human and all, and give her a home she never had from the moment she was born."

You never gave up searching for love, any kind of love. Whether it was family or the love from a another. Despite the unfair treatment you'd get, the rude stares and nasty comments, you kept your head up and stayed being a kind pure soul who always gave back love despite never receiving it. It was something Jungkook always admired about you, the fact that being hurt several times allowed you to never stray away from giving kindness towards others.

You continued smiling for him to keep him from feeling lonely in that dungeon, to keep him smiling even when you wanted to vent all your problems to him and cry until you could cry no more. And then he began to realize that perhaps the smiles you had given him back in your villager's dungeon, they were filled with a broken story, the silent call for freedom and love in return. Silent tears he couldn't see because you hid everything so well.

For at least a day, Jungkook wanted to know how it would feel to see you genuinely smile and laugh and be a happy little girl who loved no matter how much the world hated her for the first time.

A part of the guys still felt rather jealous to hear Jungkook's soft words for you. He began caring a little more for you, sought for your attention, and was always so excited to visit you after his daily hunting patrols. You were a human, something they weren't too fond of due to the bad relations they had in the past. But maybe not everything had been your fault.

You did save their little prince, brought him back to them. They should have at least thanked you but it was their jealousy that drove them away from the gentle dragons they once were. Maybe you weren't at fault for everything but it was your people who captured Jungkook in the first place and had hurt him again.

Yet watching Jungkook in front of them, blinking away his tears so that he didn't have to cry, a part of them felt horrible for the way they treated you.

"Your highnesses!"

Their heads swerved over at the sudden doors to the throne room opening abruptly and a knight ran in rushingly. He knelt in front of Jungkook, a little breathless from running.

"Prince Jimin asked for you to come to the dungeons and wishes for Prince Seokjin's presence as well."

Jungkook's brows furrowed in confusion as he looked back at the eldest, their eyes meeting with the same unspoken question. But if Jimin called for a knight to send both him and Jungkook, then that meant that you were possibly at risk.

His eyes widened and a gasp left his lips. Without any more hesitation, Jungkook ran out the doors before anyone could stop him.

Running to you.

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