#they promise themselves to make a bonfire at some point

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Just Sam and Bucky, kind of failing at making s'mores in the microwave.

[gretavanbear]

Behind The Steel

[a/n : h...hi..... i haven't posted in so long. i hope u guys enjoy this lil thing i wrote. i definitely want to do a part two at some point.]

His bike was always his most prized possession, the way he felt when riding it was an incomparable feeling. The first time he rode it was a life changing moment for him- the wind drifting through his hair, the roar of the engine. It was pure animalistic adrenaline that coursed through his veins; wanting to make her roar like he did was extremely exciting. Nothing could amount to how powerful he felt in the cage, feeling weightless and full of control. 

His best friend initially helped him build it, making it extremely safe to be in and ride around as crazy as he can get. knowing his biker friends, sometimes it really could get crazy in there. 

It became somewhat of a ritual to have cage meets at his house every last friday of the month, where all his friends and acquaintances would come and try out the cage. Sometimes they’d have their girlfriends stand in the middle, building on the anticipation of driving around them. Jake didn’t understand that; wanting someone to stand in a potentially dangerous setting for a couple minutes. Maybe because he saw himself as a lone wolf, him and his bike. How it was supposed to be. 

Sure, he’d see someone now and then but it was purely to let out everything that was bottled in, needing some release sometimes. 

As he were riding home, he thought about all the preparation for tonight’s meet. Had he ordered the keg? Yes. Did he get enough wood for the bonfire? Yep. He tended to worry for nothing, knowing his organized self; it was truly out of habit to worry over little things. 

Jake turned off the bike in his garage, making sure she was nice and safe inside. Naming her the beloved was something dear to him; his friends all giving their bikes something corny or sexy as they said, like “kitty” or “princess”. 

But the beloved was not just some sexy bike, she made him feel things, power. And she was much more special to him than just a method of transportation. As he started caressing her with the clean soapy rag, his phone interrupted his music and began ringing. 

“Jake?” it was Jeremy, his best friend. 

“Yeah?” 

“Dude… I’m so sorry but I can’t make it tonight.” Jake groaned, the meets were never the same without Jeremy. 

“Why? What’s up?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes for a second- waiting on his dumb excuse. 

“My parents want me to go meet this mechanic professor because my name was brought up somehow during my dad’s company dinner. I don’t know.. they really want me to go” He explained. Jake paused for a second before responding. 

“That sounds like a great opportunity, Jere. Don’t feel bad, just don’t miss next month’s meet, yeah?” He smiled softly as he waited for his response. 

“Of course, dude. I promise.” He replied, saying bye and hanging up. 

Jake sighed as his music played once the call was over, washing his bike with intense care. Before he could even notice the time passing, people were already showing up to his house. Thankful to be living on a secluded area with a large piece of land, there were no neighbors to be bothered by. 

JAKE

As time flew by, people began showing up to your house, gathering in your back yard. The kegs were set up, the string lights were plugged in, and of course; the cage was set up. There was a row of bikes neatly parked by the side of your house, awaiting for their turn. Though you always went first, no matter what. You passed by your acquaintances and friends, greeting them with a big smile and telling them to help themselves to the keg or drinks inside. 

The bonfire was burning bright, illuminating your surroundings with a beautiful golden glow. 

You passed by your garage to get the beloved, her cherry red color standing out to you, making your heart race. You took her off her stand and brought her to the door of the garage, someone stopping you in your tracks. 

Jeremy’s sister. 

She was only a year younger than the both of you and even though it wasn't much of a time difference, Jeremy did not want her at your house especially during cage meets. Though there she was, looking up at you with a smirk as she leaned on the side of the door. 

“What are you doing here?” You pushed the bike stand down with your foot, resting your arm on the bike. 

“Brother’s out of town. Thought I’d be in the clear for a free show.” She spoke, crossing her arms. 

“You know you can’t, Jere wouldn’t want you here.” You state. 

“Yeah? Who’s gonna tell him?” she countered. You stood back a little in shock. 

“I will. You know how protective he is.” You sigh, looking down at the bike and then back at her. 

“Let’s make a bet, Kiszka.” You open your mouth to disagree but she continues talking. “If I can make one round in the cage with you, you can take me home. If I fail, you tell Jeremy and I’ll deal with him.” She says, confidently. You’re taken aback a little, her confidence roaming around the tight space of your garage. 

She’s always been around, even when you and Jere were younger. You’d always done your best to ignore her even though she was a hell of a tease, and now that he was away you saw it as your chance. 

“You know what? Fine. Let’s see you fail, darlin’.” You smirk, kicking the stand up and walking towards the cage with the beloved, her following you. 

As you arrived to the cage, you settled the bike inside, Y/N following you in. She stood on the red X on the floor, the old tape used as a marking for where people would get their partners to stand. She looked at you with a smirk, though you could see a slight shimmer in her eye. You knew she trusted you, but you were up for a challenge. 

You watched as she took her jacket off, throwing it outside of the cage, it landed on the ground. You zipped up your leather jacket, tucking your necklace inside your neckline. You gave her one good look before putting your helmet on, pulling down the eye mask. 

You could hear the metal gate close, locked shut. The voices cheering on the outside, the music playing faintly in the background. All these distractions but she was the only thing you could focus on. She wore a tight black longsleeve satin dress with some black combat boots, she looked fucking amazing. It just excited you even more. 

You could hear her sucking in a breath as you straddled the beloved, your hand on the handles. You turn her on and roar the engine, the adrenaline moving through you. You kick up the stand and begin circling her across the cage, slowly moving higher and higher as you increase the speed, taking your time with it. 

Once you feel stable enough, you take your right hand off the handle, and begin dragging it gently across her shoulder, increasing the speed of your bike, revving the engine even louder as you watch her jump a little, but you can tell your touch helps her nerves. You bite your bottom lip to contain your smirk- unsuccessfully. Your hand caresses her shoulders, her stomach, her chest slightly. She closes her eyes and smiles in content, which makes you go even faster. Her eyes open once again and you can feel them on you. Ten seconds left of your time in the cage, your hand drags against her whole body, god she feels amazing. 

You hear the loud horn that alarms you the minute is over, and you slow down, to a stop. Your hair is stuck to your forehead by the time you take your helmet off, but all you can focus on is the way she’s smiling at you, how beautiful she looks, how wonderful that dress fits her. 

“So? You gonna tell him?” She smirks, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“I think I can keep a lil secret..” You sigh, smiling down at her. 

-

The two of you walked over to your driveway with the beloved. You had borrowed an extra helmet off a friend since you didn’t own another one. You knew where she lived, and it wasn’t far, but you were more worried about if you’d be able to contain yourself from not kissing her, the way she affected you was something you never felt before. 

You straddled the bike once again as she put her helmet on. “I’m going to hold my hand out so it’s easier for you to get on, you’ll need to hold on tightly because I’m going to be going pretty fast.” You said, holding your hand out. She took it and climbed over the bike, settling herself closely behind you. 

“Like that?” She asked. You smirked behind your helmet. 

“Closer, love. Wouldn’t want you sliding off..” You smiled. She scooted closer and you could feel her chest against your back, it made your heart flutter. Your hands made their way to the handles as you turned on the bike once more, beginning your journey to her house. 

As the wind drifted through the hair sticking out your helmet, your hand drifted to her thigh, caressing it a little. You felt her arms tighten around your waist, and her fingers slowly make their way to the hem of your jacket. You sucked in a breath, trying to focus on the road. Her hands slid underneath your jacket, underneath your shirt, until she caressed your chest gently. You wondered if she could feel your heartbeat, she probably could.. It was beating so fast. You let out a shaky breath and told yourself you’d be at her house soon. 

Parked. Finally, you kicked down the stand. She removed her hands from your shirt, and hopped off the bike. You also got off and removed your helmet, resting your ass on the seat of the bike as you faced her. She removed her helmet and shook her head a little, to let her hair loose. She nearly took your breath away, the beauty taking over. 

“Thanks for the ride.” She smiled, handing the helmet over to you. 

“Thanks for the massage.” You smirked. 

“Anytime” She said, stepping closer. You looked down at her, a slight shimmer in the reflection of her dark orbs. “I like riding with you,” She paused, leaning in. “It’s so…” She paused once more, her lips so close to yours. “Intimate.. Isn’t it?” She said. 

You nodded, your lips parted a little. 

“Are you going to kiss me goodnight, Kiszka?” She said, and you didn’t reply. You kissed her gently, her lips soft like satin, you could drown in them. She was so soft, like honey, a warmth you didn’t know you needed until right now. She pulled away so gently, almost as if she was afraid it would hurt you. 

“Goodnight.. See you at your next meet..” She smiled, waving a little before going inside her house, leaving you speechless.

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[noobiestnoober]

Prison World IKEA - Assembling Chaos

This one-shot fanfic is based in the 1994 Prison World, where Damon, Bonnie and Y/N are stuck in the prison world, and one day they receive a mysterious package from their resident sociopath. I hope you enjoy the story <3

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

In the surreal Prison World, Bonnie, Damon, and Y/N found themselves surrounded by endless forests, eerie silence, and... IKEA flatpacks. A mysterious delivery had arrived that morning, containing furniture that promised to make their indefinite stay a tad more comfortable.

"Who even delivers IKEA to a prison world?" Y/N wondered aloud, examining the flatpacks.

"Probably someone with a twisted sense of humor," Damon replied, narrowing his eyes, "Like Kai."

As if on cue, Kai Parker appeared out of thin air, a mischievous grin plastered on his face, "Surprise! I thought you could use some entertainment. Watching you try to assemble IKEA furniture should be fun," he said, chuckling.

Bonnie glared at him, "You're seriously enjoying this, aren't you?"

"More than you know," Kai replied, leaning against a tree to watch the chaos unfold.

Bonnie glanced at the instruction manual, a frown deepening on her face, "I'm not sure about this," she said, staring at the diagrams that looked more like abstract art than useful instructions.

Damon smirked, holding up what was supposed to be a shelf but looked more like modern art, "It looks great," he said, admiring his work. The shelf wobbled precariously, then collapsed with a clatter.

"Yeah, great if we're planning to host a broken furniture exhibition," Y/N added, rolling her eyes.

Bonnie sighed and plopped down on the floor, spreading the instruction manual in front of her, "Alright, let's try again. Damon, can you pass me the screws?"

"Screws? I thought those were extras. I threw them away," Damon said nonchalantly.

"You what?" Bonnie and Y/N exclaimed in unison.

"Just kidding," Damon grinned, pulling a bag of screws from his pocket, "But seriously, who needs instructions? Let's just wing it."

"That's how we ended up with a lopsided shelf in the first place," Y/N pointed out.

Kai laughed, clearly enjoying the show, "This is better than TV."

Hours passed, and the trio's efforts produced a series of increasingly bizarre pieces of "furniture." One chair had five legs, while another had none. A table leaned at an angle that defied both gravity and common sense.

"Damon, I think this piece goes here," Bonnie said, holding up a wooden plank.

"No way, it definitely fits here," Damon argued, jamming the plank into a random spot.

Y/N watched the chaos unfold, shaking her head, "At this rate, we're going to end up with a pile of firewood."

"Which might not be a bad idea," Bonnie muttered. "We could use a bonfire to brighten up this dreary place."

Just as frustration was about to reach its peak, Damon had an idea, "Why don't we use magic?"

Bonnie's eyes lit up, "Why didn't I think of that sooner?" She cast a simple spell, and the pieces of furniture floated into the air, assembling themselves with a satisfying series of clicks.

In no time, the room was filled with perfectly constructed IKEA furniture. They all sat down, marveling at the result.

Kai clapped his hands slowly, a mockingly impressed look on his face, "Well, that was easy."

Bonnie shot him a look, "Easy? We wasted half a day on this!"

"But it was worth it," Y/N said, sinking into a comfortable armchair, "Now we have a place to relax, even if it’s in this creepy Prison World."

Damon leaned back on the newly assembled couch, his smirk widening, "Next time, let’s try building a hot tub."

Bonnie and Y/N groaned in unison, "Let's not," they said, laughing.

Kai vanished with a satisfied grin, leaving the trio to enjoy their newly assembled, albeit magically assisted, IKEA haven.

[limo-news]

Where is Montauk Beach?

If you've heard of Long Island's priceless coastal treasures, you've probably encountered the question, "Where is Montauk Beach?" Located on the easternmost tip of New York's Long Island, Montauk has some of New York's most beautiful beaches. Northeast. It's not just a beach, it's a series of stunning coastlines, each with its own charm and charm.

Where is Montauk Beach? Montauk Beach is located at the tip of Long Island's South Fork, about 300 miles east of New York City. It is part of the larger city of East Hampton in Suffolk County. Accessible by car, train, or even from Montauk Airport, the area is a popular destination for day-trippers and vacationers. Whether it's a leisurely drive along the Montauk Highway or a ride on the Long He Island Railroad, a trip to Montauk offers beautiful scenery that sets the tone for any beach experience ahead.

Why Montauk? You may be wondering why Montauk is so special in the seaside area. First, this location on the edge of the island offers breathtaking sunrise and sunset views. But Montauk has more than just beaches. It is a blend of rich history, culture and natural beauty. From the famous Montauk Point Lighthouse, commissioned by President George Washington in 1792, to the sprawling Montauk His Downs State Park, there's much more to do than just sand and surf.

Montauk's beaches themselves are diverse. Ditch Plains Beach is a surfer's paradise known for its consistent waves and vibrant surfing community. Gin Beach, on the other hand, faces the calm waters of Block Island Sound, making it perfect for families and those looking to relax. Montauk Beach State Park also offers fishing, hiking and horseback riding. The Montauk Experience Answer the question 'Where is Montauk Beach?' and enjoy the Montauk Experience. In addition to its natural attractions, Montauk offers a variety of activities for every visitor. The town itself blends old world charm with modern conveniences. Boutique shops, fine dining and quaint B&Bs line the streets for a relaxing and upscale getaway. For avid anglers, Montauk is often referred to as the 'Fishing Capital of the World'. Its waters are teeming with striped bass, leeches and blue fish. There are many charter boats for day fishing on the high seas. At night, Montauk comes to life in a different way. Bonfires and beach barbecues are long-standing traditions where families and groups of friends can gather to share stories, roast marshmallows and enjoy the sounds of the ocean under the stars.

Preserving Montauk Montauk is a destination for millions of tourists each year, with a strong focus on preserving its natural beauty and heritage. Local organizations and communities work tirelessly to keep beaches and water clean and historic sites pristine. To ensure that Montauk remains a pristine haven for generations to come, visitors are encouraged to embrace the motto "leave no trace". Conclusion

Where is Montauk Beach? Located on the eastern tip of Long Island, it blends natural beauty, rich history and modern luxury. Whether you're a surfer looking for perfect waves, a family looking for a quiet beach vacation, or a history buff looking to explore the city's past, Montauk promises an unforgettable experience. It's not just a place, it's a fascinating destination.

Book your ride to Montauk Beach online.

[sonjalange]

OOC INFORMATION

Name: Laine

Age: 19

Timezone: GMT+8

Preferred Pronouns: Feminine

Triggers (if any): Ableism language; mentions of: abortion, suicide, and genital mutilation; rape (especially romanticized rape -- just no); incest, and animal cruelty 

Anything Else? None

IC INFORMATION

Character’s Name

Sonja E. Lange

The name Sonja is a Russian baby name. In Russian the meaning of the name Sonja is: Wisdom. It is said that people with this name have a deep inner need for quiet, and a desire to understand and analyze the world they live in, and to learn the deeper truths.  It seems on fitting for one particular Ravenclaw alumna to bare this name. Sonja herself is an avid believer in the strength of silence -- it being the fog of war, encompassing the ability to hide the true nature of everything under the stoic. To observe whilst basking in the silence, formulating independent thoughts of either recluse or fondness is something that is not foreign to Sonja. In fact, it is her of her most familiar nature to ever be the girl watching.

For quite the literal sense of the word, Lange - which is aptly ‘long’ for German - has burrowed its way through to etch the letters of its name on the English Wizarding Community. They are the  fairy tale story, the promise of reaping success after toiled days, equivalent exchange for all the blood and sweat; they are the striving. There is knowledge in the long tale of how the Lange sailed, raided, sacked and burned the English during the medieval days; but not now. Now the only story witches and wizards know are the wizarding laws passed under their names and discoveries made in their request, patents invented to their credit; they whose positions had been hard fought; hard earned; they whose position is so imperative in the community that influence follows their name. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, or so they say -- whoever said it could not possibly be a Lange, with all the power coursing their veins. Nevertheless, this is far from Sonja’s point of interest. Of course, of course, envy follows their name, but to what cause? The only silver lining Sonja can find in the whole debacle is the fact that with power, the leisure to simply be by the sides - watching undisturbed with pale hands away from the blood and dirt - is possible.

Her middle name is Ehrenfeld, which is a city in Germany that has been proclaimed 1879 - far from the true roots of the prominent Ehrenfelds that once terrorized the Germanic lands during the existence of the Holy Roman Empire.

Age/Birthday

January 2, 1961; 19 years old

January 2 celebrants present a stern face and tend to be secretive and quiet. This persona belies their nature, which is considerably more animated.They don't credit others for their success, but neither do they blame anyone for their failures. The guarded nature of January 2 individuals makes them difficult to know. They experience many romantic disappointments before finding that special person. When they do connect with someone, they invariably lose some cynicism and become more open.  Because of their singular approach to life, people born on January 2 often have a strong connection to one family member and virtually none with remaining relatives.  Organization and the dogged pursuit of excellence ensure that January 2 individuals will establish themselves in a profitable career. They do not necessarily seek success yet inevitably find it. People born on January 2 are specific about goals, often committing them to paper in a series of elaborate steps and prescribed measures. They benefit from the experience and wisdom of a mentor who can help to delineate their path. The possibility of failure can keep them from reaching their goals. [X]

As a Raveclaw, Sonja’s tendency to prefer her own company to that of her peers (or lack thereof) was not perceived as odd. Many of her contemporaries are keen to the act of exchange sneaking off to the lake for a bonfire and potential snogging for the quiet ease of their solitude. To the ones who merely know Sonja by name (or at least by the reputation that follows her surname), she is a person full of knowledge -- her eyes reveal that there is so much world she knows; she has seen. However, the demise of it all is that not a single word ever passes her tongue to show it to anyone. To the grave with her secrets, her knowledge. 

Pronouns

Feminine. Sonja is a cisgender female. The traditional (if not archaic) binary standard of reference stands absolute with her. She has never confused her gender with anything else despite it being preordained for her.

Face Claim

Mia Wasikowska, Emily Browning, Saoirse Ronan - I see Sonja as someone with German ancestry and have Nordic racial features.

Who Are They?

Instead of answering “Who”, I’ve decided to answer “Why”

Sonja is a Lange because her father has always loved her mother - even before he knew it himself. She has heard of her father - Matthew Lange - and the first time he tried to perform an amortentia potion when he himself was a student; and he knew from the first whiff (that smell of a warm pillow he had been familiar with ever since his childhood,  his own mother’s spongecake and something spectacularly similar to the warmth at the Hogsmead post office) that he was meant to be with the closest, longest, most grounded friend he knew -- Theodora Ehrenfield. She doesn’t know her mother’s side of the story for Mrs. Lange had been keen on keeping her stoic disposition adamant ever since, but to what her fond father tells her about the youth that passed them before, it was love, and Sonja latches to it - the rarity of its presence gracing their days. Sonja is a Lange because her father loved her mother - always had, always will; she doesn’t know if the same goes for her mother.

Sonja is named ‘Sonja’ after her maternal grandmother. Mrs. Lange does not like to call Sonja by her first name, and Sonja knows exactly why. There is much inhibitions between her mother and her grandmother. It is curious how Sonja does not have any cousins (or knows any of them) and the frequency of their visits to Grandmother Sonja has lessened as she grew up. It is curious -- but not peculiar. Her grandmother has a sharp tongue: rarely spoke highly of anyone and often did not look people straight in the eyes - as if everyone is a pawn. She does not blame her mother for merely calling her as “child”.

There is money on her name even before she was even conceived; before she was even given a name! The monocot family line of both the Ehrenfelds and the Langes with their power is almost a mockery to the supposed modern time - a representation of how the elite clutches far too tight with what they possess. The Ehrenfelds have been long allies with the Langes - both being of Germanic and Scandinavian descent and dwelling on the political sector. Their houses - no, their estates - are the nearest to each other at two miles out in the vast wizarding Oxfordshire plains. It is destiny, it is fate -- the wealth of the Ehrenfelds and the influence of the Langes. It is a blessing, but more often a curse -- a curse not of the expectations that come with being in the lineages, but a curse of having the opportunity to be lax, to be the object of jealousy and prejudice; to be able to make mistakes that can be dusted off by power and wealth.

The Ministry is the reason they are so affluent. Many of the Ehrenfelds and Langes have helped the creation of the many departments, laws, and decrees the Ministry has. Although it is true that it was the 2nd Minister of Magic - Damocles Rowle - who had thought of using Azkaban as a prison, the island in which it stands today was of the Ehrenfelds -- one of many coastal properties their ancestors had acquired during raids. 

Sonja is a Ravenclaw because she was made to be one. Being a Ravenclaw did not came as a surprise because Sonja has always been smart, observant, and odd. Her paternal lineage had produced many a great men and women that had all been eclectic in their own right -- some had been Lions; some had worn yellow; some were ambitious and cunning; but most were of the intellects. Despite both of her parents being Slytherins, there was no row in her straying. For the most part, her mother paid little mind to the happenings of her days in Hogwarts (as she did for the most part), but her father had been keen on supervising her progress as a young scholar -- books and letters came to her on a regular basis as gifts from her father to aide her with whatever interest has stricken her at the time. 

She loves silence because it has never been quiet in her mind. The one true sign of being alive is perhaps the ever turning and tossing of the mind -- to which Sonja is very much alive. She loves hearing her own thoughts, and prefers them to anyone else’s seemingly comforting voice. It is all in the baritone after all.

Sonja does not fancy anyone because she doesn’t want disappointment to taste so foreign. She knew what it tasted like at age five when her mother had used the Killing Curse on her pet bird when the thing wouldn’t stop chirping its way to her mother’s nerve. It died cold and wingless in her palms; she doesn’t want the same to happen with love.

 No, she doesn’t like the Marauders because they are noisy. It has never even bothered her to learn their full names or inquire why they feel the need to cause so much disturbance. The manifestation of her disdain comes in the form of a de-recognition. They do not exist in her world: they have never roamed the walls of Hogwarts and they have no hold against her intricate world. Ahh -- was that a gust of wind that passed Sonja? (No, it’s Sirius Black, but it may as well be.)

It is not her choice to favor these so-called death eaters. In fact, she doesn’t support them as she does not support anyone. Everything is merely political. Her father is rooting to be the next Minister of Magic, and who else could be a better ally than the Dark Lord himself? These people who call themselves his followers are of her par -- wealth, affluence. They are the ones meant to sit behind very big desks in the future and carve those desks even! They bear the names worthy to be etched in history, and they have the power to turn the tides. Death is as transport as ever thing else. But this war is no mere static page in history, and to people as cunning and ambitious as her parents, it is an opportunity. The Phoenix burns bright in to embers and in its wake emerges a being anew. This is what her parents are after -- to put their name along side titles as Minister of Magic, Headmaster, Department Head, Prime Minister to the Muggle World (as hypocritical as it may sound: power is power).

She refuses to take anyone’s life because death - as much as it is trivial - is very final. It is not only the end of someone, but the also the end of her. More than the weight of the consequence, it is the thought of one’s mind dying -- all that pristine, raw, and very private musing that no one can ever replicate fully. As much as the world is diverse there is nothing more spectacular than the singularity of someone’s mind. 

Of course Sonja believes in the power of the Dark Lord’s cause and that no war can be ever be won with out bloodshed; but this is not she signed up for (if she even actually signed up for everything; her disposition is majorly her parents doing after all). To initiate an act of Dark Arts is not in her nature. If she is summoned, then she shall show up; if she is asked, then she will answer. But to suggest death to the muggles and half-bloods -- no. They are all part of the eclectic realm that make up the Wizarding Community. If there is magic in ones’ veins, then they are worthy. 

Sonja is doing this not for the name of their family. She is doing this for her father, whom had been the singular epitome of acceptance and devotion all her life. Her sharing of what knowledge and dirt she has on the so-called Order of the Phoenix weighs no consequence to her. She means no offense nor malice; this is not retaliation either -- this is merely her giving thanks.

Extras (Optional)

I made a mock blog for Sonja containing most of the extra details I have for her. X

IC QUESTIONNAIRES

"Is there anyone who you would trust with your life? If so, who?"

Trust is such a volatile word. Whoever invented it must have known first the feeling of losing it or not granting it to someone. It is often the lack of one thing defies its counterpart. Just as much as darkness is merely the absences of light, trust is simply the presence of the need to have someone be a confidant -- and Sonja has none; she does not have a confidant nor the dire need to have one. It is only detrimental to the flow of her world to have someone else’s footprint in her musings. There is no one she trusts except herself and the truth. However, Sonja is smart: so smart that she knows that to answer with only truth being the ink to her words would be more so detrimental; and so she rolls the sleeves of her peach, button-down shirt and lock her eyes with the other, her lips thin with a purpose -- and the purpose is to deliver the truth that the other wants to hear. 

“You.” 

 It garners a small nod for the other - recognition being its motive. She has always knew what to say; she can see it in their eyes, hear it in their words -- just like she sees everything.

"Have you ever taken a life? If so, tell us about how it happened. If not, do you think you’d be able to?"

The silence occupies all the words that Sonja refuses to let roll off her tongue. She meets the inquisitor with piercing eyes, cold and dead. The hair tucked behind her ear fell one by one as softly as before. Her refusal for a one true answer is often perceived as critical thinking and even loyalty; her mother had told her that it was a praise from the Dark Lord himself. It is adamant to keep one’s head on their shoulder whilst probing to find a way to take the others’ off. She can smell death on the other. She need not ask for already knew the answers, but she returned his questions. “Have you?”

"If you are going to die tomorrow, what is the one thing that you would do today?"

It is dark, and Sonja argues that the light of day will not break soon. The stark difference of the cold air outside and the one coursing and winding its way through the Malfoy manor is crispiness. The gust hits her hard as she made her way through the halls and the secrets. She is lead by an unsuspecting Death Eater - what was her name once again? her countenance definitely did not scream terror and disdain for all that is not pureblood - down through a corridor and onto the receiving hall where most of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself sat around. They are convening and they greet Sonja with a cold gaze, which she reciprocated. The Dark Lord prompts her to sit, and so she did. All these face and the consequences of their actions -- destroyers of the stillness, terrorists of the silence. Lucius Malfoy’s mouth is thin and many of the people seated were most likely focused on how pale he is in contrast to the dark demeanor of his manor == perhaps and perhaps not. Whatever they may have been pre-occupied with, they didn’t seem to find Sonja’s drawing of her wand from under the table and pointing it at the Dark Lord as suspicious. She mutters the killing curse with soft precision; blue light comes out of the tip of her wand and she her eyes meet Lord Voldemort’s for a split second until ---

“Sonja?”

Reality comes back to her with curious, intent eyes. She takes in her surroundings: this small beach by the cliff of the Purcell estate. The pressure of the stones against the light material of her shoes relieve pressure points. “Yes?”

“I asked you what you would do today if you are to die tomorrow.” The Purcells have always had such a disarming smile. Sonja wants to reciprocate it with the same audacity against the darkness looming in, but it comes off as a broken one.

“I would -- “ The words betray her -- or perhaps she betrayed them. “I would like to stay here.”

Practical.

[jungkxook]

—midnight getaway. (m)

⟶ pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader 

⟶ genre: sprinkle of youtuber!wooyoung + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 6,488

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: a “romantic” getaway surrounded by your friends leads to an interesting night alone with wooyoung

⟶ warnings: pwp, wooyoung says baby a lot bc he’s in love, some teasing woo, exhibitionism, doggy style, sort of praise kink, ass play (fingering, fem!recieving), breast play/fondling, finger sucking, riding, unprotected sex, creampie 

⟶ note: this is the first fic i’ve written in a while and my first ateez fic no one come for me pls also this is dedicated to the lovely @kithtaehyung​ !! thank you for always encouraging me and my wooyoung antics!! 💛

p.s. this is shamelessly inspired by this wooyoung selfie!!

“Ugh. You obviously like her.”

The begrudging sigh comes from Yeosang, narrowly giving Wooyoung a heart attack when he realizes that you’re still within earshot. This wouldn’t have been so much of an issue had Yeosang not been so clearly talking about you to Wooyoung, though he barely has any time to recollect himself. Instead, sprawled out on the poolside of the villa the group had rented out for their week-long vacation in Jeju Island, Wooyoung firstly decides that he has no idea what Yeosang’s talking about.

“We’re just friends,” Wooyoung retorts.

“A friend you invite with you on a romantic getaway?” Yeosang asks with a wolfish grin.

Wooyoung shakes his head. He can still see you through the windows of the villa, now in the kitchen talking to Hongjoong. You’re all bright-eyed and glowing from the sun, in a swimsuit you had been putting to use just a few minutes ago when you took a dip in the pool. “Some romantic getaway, considering there’s seven idiots in the same house as us. Also thought this trip was meant to have no distractions.”

Which isn’t really a lie, because while their trip to Jeju was mostly for their YouTube channels, it was also meant to serve as a well-deserved break for the boys, and their leisure work of choice wasn’t exactly taxing and the majority of their trip so far has been spent simply enjoying themselves. Hongjoong had been so adamant too that there would be nothing to hinder them during their well deserved break. And of course you jumped at the offer to tag along when Wooyoung asked you, because you were his best friend but, moreover, his best supporter when it came to his passion and his videos.

“Yeah,” San hums nonchalantly from within the pool. He had been one of the few to jump in with you earlier, “but I don’t think friends flirt with each other on a daily basis.”

“Not to mention your video was all about her,” Jongho adds from beside Wooyoung. “I thought we were supposed to be promoting tourism in Jeju, not Y/N.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, you had featured in a lot of the video Wooyoung had only just posted for his “Our Side of the Story” series he was doing (mostly daily vlogs, or aesthetic short films that you’ve always loved ━ much like the others, who have found a way to incorporate their love for music, dance, cooking, and everything in between in their vlogs), but you always made an appearance when you were so close with him. His viewers were used to it by this point, safe for the occasional questioning comments as to whether or not you two were dating. This video in particular saw you having the most fun in a while, frolicking the streets of the city, sprinting across the beach into the shallows of the ocean to try and splash Wooyoung with water; shaved ice shared between you and him and the way you snuck a bite of his when he was preoccupied, bike rides along the waterfront, and clambering along hiking trails so you could pose in a field of flowers that you had so desperately wanted to see.

Now, Wooyoung gives a roll of his eyes. “Funny. I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yeosang sighs again. “When are you gonna tell her the truth?”

“The video already kind of did,” Jongho points out tauntingly. “If I was Y/N, I would have already realized.”

“Yeah━” San is beaming now as he clambers out of the pool, “but if you don’t want her, Woo, can I make a pass at her? Y’know, just to help take her off your hands━ Ow! What the hell?”

San jumps suddenly when Wooyoung chucks one of the pillows off of the lawn chair at his head.

“Keep your hands off her━” Wooyoung chastises. It’s meant mostly as a joke, but he worries when he recognizes a small part of him seems to care a little too much.

The others seem to find it funny at least, erupting into howling laughter that’s quick to fade when you wander back out to the pool and throw yourself next to Wooyoung.

“They’re definitely starting to catch on.”

Wooyoung lets out a weary sigh, though you’re starting to find it difficult to focus as he continues to kiss down your throat.

So, maybe if any of the boys walked in and saw the both of you in such a compromising position, they would be indescribably confused while also preparing to point an accusatory finger at Wooyoung for technically lying to them. But it isn’t really a lie, and certainly not one neither he nor you were keen on keeping for very long. It’s just that it seemed a whole lot easier to keep your newfound two month relationship with Wooyoung a secret for a small while.

It was mostly to give the both of you enough time to enjoy yourselves thoroughly without the prying eyes of your friends (who, while always supportive, are already passionately invested in your lifelong friendship with Wooyoung, pointing out his feelings for you even far before he could decipher them), their vlogging lifestyle, and their fans, while also waiting for the proper time to expose the truth. After the Jeju trip, you had both promised each other. But that plan was beginning to look more and more faulty as time passes.

What was supposed to be an innocent trip to Jeju with your friends turned into a tricky game in which Wooyoung had entirely different plans that consisted of you only. Specifically, how many times he can find you alone away from the boys to have his way with you. By now, night has since fallen and, after a short duration of time unwinding around a small bonfire in the backyard, the boys had all since retreated to their own rooms. You’re positive most are already long asleep and the ones that aren’t are beginning to nod off, exhausted after a long day and drowsy with liquor from the night of drinking. You’re fortunate Wooyoung at least first chose to find you alone in your room of the villa, but you still panic. Because Wooyoung should be sleeping in his shared room with Hongjoong down the hall from yours, yet here he was.

“My video today probably didn’t help,” Wooyoung adds. 

You hum in response. “I don’t know if sneaking into my room will help with that either.”

At this, Wooyoung grins wide. “It’s fine. Hongjoong’s passed out cold. You should hear his snores. Plus━” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep without wondering how quickly you can cum.”

You nearly choke as you hear the words fall from Wooyoung’s mouth.

But it wasn’t his fault ━ he has needs too.

The first night of your trip called for a joyous celebration at a nearby restaurant that resulted in everyone being blissfully drunk by the time you returned to the villa. You had gotten so dressed up for the occasion that Wooyoung hated to see it go to waste, adorned in a pretty floral sundress ━ one that has always been his favourite (and, no, he promises that’s not solely because of how nice your boobs look in it, though that’s definitely a plus). If the boys could hear his thoughts now, they’d certainly pick him apart.

The house, however big and spacious it may be, is certainly not empty. Even just next door to your room is the shared room both Mingi and San are in. This is a fact you choose to remind your dear boyfriend of now. “The boys are sleeping.”

“Screw the guys,” Wooyoung groans into your neck. His strong arms slide around your middle from behind, pulling you into an all too familiar and warm embrace. He’s caught you just before you can shed your dress and slip into something more comfortable, all radiant and shimmering from a day out in the sun. You melt almost immediately against his chest as he nibbles on the skin just below your ear, on the corner of your jaw. He whispers ardently, “You look really pretty today. You always do, but especially today.”

A gentle smile spreads across your face. You instinctively reach out behind you to rest your hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at the hair there. “I wore this dress just for you. I know it’s your favourite.”

“Yeah, because your tits look amazing in it,” he snickers. As if to emphasize this, he reaches down slyly to cup one of your breasts over the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze.

“Well, now you’re just trying to distract me into bed with you.”

“Is it working?” he asks hopefully, a smug grin on his face.

You snicker, fidgeting in his hold to face him and patting at his shoulder. “Maybe if we weren’t surrounded by a group of seven drunk men who could potentially hear and walk in on me sucking you off at any moment.”

But Wooyoung has already waited all day for the boys to leave you two alone. Waiting any longer may as well have felt like an eternity in a certain type of special hell that he wasn’t exactly keen on.

“And?” A sudden smirk stretches across his face. He leans in close to you, lips brushing faintly against your ear. “You didn’t have a problem letting me fuck you against the practice room mirror the other day.”

You swat lightly at his chest, scoffing suddenly. “Wooyoung!”

But he has a point. In all fairness, it had been his idea to take you against the practice room mirror when the boys had gone home and you were dropping off food to your poor boyfriend still working late at night. You certainly hadn’t complained then when he had you coming around his cock with the practice room door left unlocked. It’s such a Wooyoung thing to say too, being that he’s not often caught off guard, especially when he’s so blatant and confident about all things sex.

“Can’t you keep it in your pants for one night, Woo?”

“No, he’s in pain,” he pouts childishly. He bites playfully at the tip of your nose.

You sputter for air, dissolving into a fit of laughter. “You did not just call your dick a he━”

“Okay, I’m in pain,” he corrects. He starts kissing down and back up your neck. “It’s not my fault you look extra hot today. Besides, you looked like you were having so much fun today. Is it so wrong for me to want to keep pampering my beautiful girlfriend?”

“With your dick?”

“Yes, with my dick.”

You snort.

“And━” He drags out the word purposely, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t even want you to suck me off, by the way. All I want is to fuck you senseless right now.”

Oh.

His words send a nerve right down to your core. Your thighs instinctively press together at the thought.

All things considered, you’re not any better. There was no denying how devastatingly attractive your boyfriend always looked, but especially today. A well-deserved break and the Jeju sun did him well, with a beautiful tan starting to glow on his face, free of any make-up or cover-ups. The usual stress of city life and work doesn’t weigh heavy on his brows anymore, and though his hair has gotten longer, it’s a neat and pretty mess ━ a little unruly from the sun and chlorine, and from having taken it down from its half-ponytail, but pretty nonetheless ━ with the under half of it bleached blonde and the top half dyed black. Dressed in nothing but a casual old t-shirt and a pair of board shorts, he’s both wholesomely cute and yet sexy at the same time.

And, while you are surrounded by a group of rowdy boys, Wooyoung isn’t necessarily wrong. He always seems to have a knack for making anything romantic enough if he tries, attributed to his charming ways. A night of lovemaking (or whatever he has in mind) in your room with a beachside view is, all things considered, kind of romantic.

You purse your lips now. “Think they’re all asleep?”

“With how wasted they are? Absolutely,” Wooyoung says brightly. “I tripped over a shoe in our room and Hongjoong didn’t even move.”

It’s risky, sure, but the sudden yearning to be with Wooyoung was almost debilitating. There was no doubt you could both get away with having sex in a packed house, right? Either way, it doesn’t really seem to matter. You’ve already been persuaded, and Wooyoung knows.

He pulls you in for a kiss and you let him get carried away for a moment, reveling in the way he needily nips and sucks at your lower lip. Then, finding a second of clarity, you can be heard saying against his mouth breathlessly, “We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Mmm,” he hums distractedly. “So quiet.”

But that was like asking Wooyoung not to breathe. It’s this passing thought, and the way he pulls and tugs you over to sit on his lap as he sinks onto the edge of the bed in a desperate haste, that has you giggling. He leaves a trail of sloppy kisses down to the underside of your jaw and then along your throat.

You tug at the hair at the nape of his neck as you begin to rut your hips against his slowly. “You look really handsome today, baby. It’s nice seeing you so relaxed for once.”

His stare meets yours suddenly, all sparkling and awed. He grips your waist and presses you a little more firmly against his hips so you can feel his semi-hard dick against your inner thigh. “Ugh,” he sighs, “say that again and I’ll bust a nut right here and now.”

Another giggle meets his ears, but this time it’s a little less focused as it splinters off into a whimper the longer you continue to grind against him. You decide to humour him. “I saw your vlog. It was pretty.”

He audibly whines now, his heart threatening to burst through his chest. “Yeah? I worked hard on it.”

“Is that how you see me?” You think back to the video and how you looked, the soft music overlapping it all.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, “like that piece of washed up kelp you tried throwing at me today━”

“You’re so━”

“I’m joking. Of course that’s how I see you, but that’s only a fraction of what you look like to me. A camera doesn’t do you justice.”

“So you think I’m pretty?” You snicker.

“So pretty.” He kisses you again, this time a little more earnestly. He sighs dreamily against your lips, “No, actually. If my dick isn’t in you in the next minute, I’m gonna go insane.”

A delighted simper sounds from you. “Don’t even have to cum, just as long as you do━”

Your jaw drops open as you find an angle that has you pushing your clit against his clothed dick just right. But even though you had so innocently offered to only get him off, part of the fun was seeing how quickly and how many times he could make you cum before finishing himself off. You deserve it, after all.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” he moans. He takes a moment to appreciate you in your current state. You, straddling his lap, eager hips moving against his with your brows pinched in concentration, the pretty material of your dress hiking up around your thighs. He reaches down, palms rough as they grip at the soft flesh of your thighs. “Look at you, already so needy for me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

Wooyoung fidgets beneath you. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at your throat.

“How do you want me first, princess?” he asks sweetly now, peppering kisses along your throat, tongue soothing the marks he’s left behind. “Want my fingers in you?”

“N-No━” You croak. “Just wanna feel your dick.”

Excitement prickles at the tips of his fingers as he massages circles against your hips. “In your mouth or in you?”

“In me,” You rasp. “Now. Please, Woo━”

He marvels for a moment at how he’s so stupidly in love with you and your pretty words despite them having such dirty implications, and he hastens to please you. A wolfish grin tugs at his lips as he smothers them against your mouth, but then the giddy sensation of finally getting to have his cock buried in your walls overcomes him. He murmurs into a wet kiss, “As much as I love this dress, let’s get it off of you.”

He hastens to help you shove the straps of your dress down your shoulders, then off your arms. Then, he watches as you stand up to shimmy your way out of it, the material pooling at your feet, exposing your figure and the fact that you’re not even wearing a bra. The swell of your breasts meets his eyes first, and you’ve barely just kicked your way out of your panties when he’s pulling you onto his lap again, warm mouth latching onto one of your breasts. His lips wrap around your nipple, teeth nibbling on the sensitive bud. He can’t seem to get enough, moving to bite and suck at the soft flesh all over, shifting from one to the other, then down the valley of your breasts. A moan falls from your lips, hands pulling harshly at his hair as you push him further into your chest.

“Wooyoung…” You whine. “We gotta be quick.”

Though he wants nothing more than to mark up your chest all over, he relents only when he remembers that the boys are nearby. “Okay, okay━ Here━”

He grabs at your waist, shifting you around until you’re on your back splayed out beneath him. Towering over you, he pushes the material of his shorts down, pulling his aching dick from the tight confinements. Your eyes fall to the way he fists himself hurriedly, tip all red and glistening with precum, and the one prominent vein bulging along his length. You bite at your lip, legs instinctively spreading wider for him.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he asks, excited. “With the guys here?”

“Think it’s too late to ask when we’re both already naked,” You giggle. You remind him again, this time a little weaker, “Just remember to be quiet.”

He hums in response. Then, he teases you by running the length of his hard dick against your slick folds, already dripping with slick arousal.

“God, baby,” he groans, “you’re so wet already.” He taps the tip of his cock against your pussy, the sudden jolt sending your head spinning. As he rubs himself on you, the sticky wetness glides along the prominent vein of his length and spreads messily out to the top of your inner thighs. “Did I do all this to you?”

“Woo, no teasing,” You chastize in a small whine. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling, and you hate having to resist all his teasing touches. “What if someone tries coming in?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Let them. If it’s Seonghwa, even better. I can finally get payback for when he purposely ate some girl out on my bed.”

You snort lazily, stifling your giggles. “Focus, baby.”

“I am focused,” he says smugly. He emphasizes this by pressing his dick a little harder against your folds, teasing the tip of it against your entrance. “With you spread out like this for me, all sexy━ Fuck, I’m so focused.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is that the thought alone of one of the boys walking in on the both of you is enough to excite him to no end. He can imagine it now, one of them wandering into the room while you’re writhing beneath Wooyoung, taking his dick so well, moaning nothing but his name. He yearns to feel you all at once, hurrying to please you.

Without warning, he pushes himself into you, cock stretching you wide in just the way you both like. Almost immediately, low gasps and groans sound from the both of you.

“Ah, f-fuck! Woo━” You smother your sudden cries with a hand clamping over your mouth.

“Shit, I know,” he sputters for air. His voice is heavy in your ear, a low grunt only for you to hear. “You feel so fucking good, baby━”

His head is swimming even just at the way your walls wrap around his tip so snug. He pushes himself into you the rest of the way, bottoming out with a sudden forceful and indulgent thrust when━

The headboard slams against the wall, exceptionally loud.

“Fuck, Wooyoung━ Woo━” You grip at his arms. “The bed.”

His eyes meet yours, stunned momentarily as you wait and listen. A minute passes, but the house continues to remain silent.

“It’s okay. Even if they do hear, it’s not as if they probably won’t know what we’re doing,” Wooyoung points out, matter-of-fact. “We haven’t exactly been very careful lately.”

“Still,” You insist. Your walls throb around his hard dick, desperate for some sort of movement. “It’ll give me some peace of mind.”

His heart swoons at your timidness, and though he has fun teasing you, he would never actually want to risk getting caught by one of the boys (however many close calls he’s already had with you) or, worse, upsetting you to the point of no return.

In the next moment, Wooyoung pulls out of you, then pushes back in again, this time less forceful. He swears he tries to be wary of the bed and of making too much noise but, much to both of your dismay, while the frame doesn’t bang against the wall too noticeably, the bed still creaks beneath you.

Wooyoung grits his teeth. He tries again, then one more time, and though your head lolls back at the sensation of him stretching you wide, you meet his gaze with your own apprehensive hazy one. Even Wooyoung’s patience is wearing thin when all he wants to do is tear you apart ━ that, and the slight creak of the bed is enough to start driving him insane.

“Fuck this,” his pace stutters to a halt, “let’s get on the floor. Can you get on your hands and knees for me, baby?”

“Good idea.” Your heart jolts in your chest from the excitement.

Within a matter of seconds, he’s parting from you, leaving you momentarily stunned at the loss of warmth. He helps you to your feet so that the both of you can sink to the floor on your knees. Before you can drop into all fours, Wooyoung stops you by reaching out for the blanket on the bed and tucking it underneath the both of you, but mostly to soften the ground underneath your knees. When he catches you surveying him with a fond gleam in your eyes, he quirks a brow.

“What? It’s just so you don’t get too uncomfortable,” he says sweetly, peppering a few kisses along your shoulder. “Is this good?”

“Amazing.” Your heart swells at all his gentle touches. You catch his lips on yours, faintly murmuring, “I love you. Like, so much.”

You can feel his grin against your mouth. “You know I love you too. And as much as I would also love to hear you go on about how I’m the most perfect boyfriend, I need to be in you right now.”

A pretty giggle meets his ears, and he marvels for a second how you’re so quick to oblige. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your ass juts out in his direction. You give it a little tempting wiggle, and he hurries to position himself behind you. With one hand on the small of your back, he guides you back down his length.

“Ah━ Fuuuck━” He moans. “Arch your back a little more for me, baby.”

You do as you’re told, leaning forward just enough on your elbows and sticking your hips back to meet his as he sinks balls deep into your core. Then, he’s crumbling apart, all breathy panting as he tries to focus.

“Shit, baby━”

“Mmm━”

“You’re so tight. So wet. I’m not gonna last,” he pouts, as if it’s a genuine disappointment. He watches as he pulls out of your heat just enough before shoving himself back in, his dick covered in a glistening sheen of your arousal. You’re so damn wet, he wonders how he hasn’t slipped from you yet. His hands grip and tug at your ass, spreading you to see the way your cunt pulsates and stretches around his dick. So perfect, almost as if you were made for him. “Tell me. Wanna hear how good you feel right now.”

“S-So good,” You mumble drunkenly. “God, you’re so good, Woo. Fuck━!”

His gaze droops down to your breasts, bouncing with each thrust of his hips into yours. He reaches around and grabs at one of your boobs. The gentle shake of the soft flesh in his palms is always his favourite feeling, and he can’t help but squeeze at them now because, god, he really does love your tits. If he had all the time in the world, he would do anything to fuck himself between your boobs, and cum all over your chest ━ but that will have to wait for now.

“Ah━ Fuck━ Wish I could take my time with you right now,” he moans, planting sloppy kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t wait till we’re alone. Gonna take care of you so well, baby.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. He reaches down with his other hand, thumb pressing against the tight hole of your ass. The sensation alone is enough to have you nearly keeling over, a strangled cry of pleasure ripping from you. “Want you coming on my tongue so bad. Gonna fuck you against every surface too. You deserve it. You’re always so good to me, princess.”

“Only for you,” You whimper. If he wasn’t so pressed for time, the affirmation alone would have been more than enough to make him melt in your very hands. But his dick is still so hard, and your pussy is still so wet, all he can focus on is not slipping from your walls with every thrust of his hips. “Ah, Wooyoung! Y-You’re so━ So hard━”

You bite harshly at your lip when a loud moan threatens to spill from you. You bury your face in the blanket around you, clutching so tightly at the material. A part of Wooyoung finds it amusing, if only because, if the boys are awake and don’t hear your lewd moans, there’s no doubt they won’t be able to hear the sound of skin against skin as his hips slap against your ass.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he coaxes now. “Moan out loud for me.” When you shake your head, he snickers. “Want it harder? Will that help you?”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips, a little rougher than usual. It sends you teetering forward, a broken groan tumbling from you that’s left muffled by the blanket. He can hear you mumble wantonly, “Don’t be a tease.”

A cheshire-like grin spreads across his face. “Here━ Come sit on my dick. Wanna feel you so deep━”

His words make you moan softly, followed by the way he pulls out of you just quickly enough to sit back against the bed. He tugs you onto his lap and you follow suit, spreading your legs further apart as you sink onto his leaking dick. Down, down, down, until it almost feels as if he’s hitting your cervix, and suddenly you’re not so sure you’ll be able to keep it together any longer. That, mixed with the way he’s gazing at you, all hooded eyed and alluring, you’re very close to dissolving into a mess right in his very arms.

“Ah━ Ah━ Fuck, baby━” You grip at his shoulders as you adjust to the new feeling, hips squirming above his. “Wooyoung, please━”

But your words fall short. The desperate plea that hinges in your voice fades into nothing more than the urgent need to feel more of him, to have him absolutely wreck you, as you begin to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.

“Please what, baby?” he taunts lazily. But he knows what he’s doing, slyly beckoning you to make a mess, and moan for him.

His palms are warm as they slide up your sides, then around your back, hugging you close to his chest. He thrusts his hips up just once into you, sending you into a haste that has you lifting yourself up and then back down his cock. As you adopt a steady and reckless pace that has you bouncing on his length, he watches your every reaction. The way your face contorts at the sheer pleasure, brows pinched so hard in concentration, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Your hands reach out to thread through his long locks, pretty blonde tresses running through the seams of your fingers. You tug lightly at the root, earning a low groan from him.

“Fuck, Y/N━” His head rolls back against the mattress at your quick pace. “You’re so fucking sexy━ So desperate for my dick━ Ah━”

He moans suddenly, only this time it’s less muffled than before. Whether he does it the first time to tease you or simply because he had gotten carried away, you aren’t quite sure. Either way, it’s enough to startle you, even amongst the daze you’re in.

“Wooyoung━” Your voice is a small warning, but it lacks any severity when it splinters into a whine. “Not so loud.”

“They’re━ Ah, fuck━ sleeping━”

You meet his mischievous stare with your own heedful one. Your pace slows, if only just, and you’re certain this time that when he moans even louder, it’s entirely on purpose.

“Woo!” You clamp a hand softly over his mouth, smothering the tail end of his crude groan.

The grin that forms on his face beneath your hand is evident of his amusement of his toying with you but it turns sluggish quickly. The sight to see is hot enough, with the drowsy lopsided smirk poking out from underneath your hand as he watches you continue to ride him, now a measured gyrating against his own hips. When he realizes you’ve chosen to keep your hand over his mouth, he reaches up to grab a hold of your wrist, his large fingers splaying out and then up over your knuckles.

“Come on, baby. It’s okay. Let it out,” he hums. He kisses at your fingertips, tongue swiveling around to suck on your digits delicately. “Not even one tiny moan? Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

He can feel your thighs begin to shake around him and, judging by the crescendoing of whimpers tumbling from your mouth, he senses you’re close. Your free hand still grips at his hair, this time a little tighter as you try to anchor yourself in place to rock your hips a little faster. Wooyoung hisses delightfully at the feeling, a small lethargic chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest.

Rough hands grab at your waist now, shifting you around abruptly until you’re splayed out on the floor on your back with him hovering over you. His length stays wedged snugly in your walls, never once slipping, and as he settles against your chest, he lifts one of your legs up and over his shoulder. An animalistic growl slips from him at your pinched face, and the way your cunt starts to squeeze around him. With this angle that his hips pound into yours, his cock hits so deep into your core, pummeling against your cervix again and again.

“H-Harder━ Wooyoung━” You pant. “Please━ I’m gonna━”

Finally, a moan sounds from you. Loud and unabashed, a little broken and exhausted, but beautiful to Wooyoung’s ears nonetheless. In fact, it’s so sexy of a noise that it’s enough to nearly push him over the edge but he relents, if only just for a little longer.

“Ah, there’s my favourite sound,” he smirks. His tongue lavs at the underside of your jaw, and your hand finds itself tangled in his hair once more. “Gonna be a good girl and let the boys hear you now?”

You try with all your might to silence yourself, but the task proves more and more difficult. A few more slams of his hips into yours, and you’re crumbling apart right before his eyes.

“Fuck━ Wooyoung━”

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum for me.”

As you come, the sudden gush of wetness around your core coats his length and he almost accidentally slips from your cunt. You’re clenched so tightly around him, Wooyoung feels as if he has to gasp for air to stay focused. His eyes still stay trained on you, watching as your face contorts as you writhe beneath him. But it’s your shameless moaning that sets him off, albeit still softer than usual but much louder than he was expecting from you with the boys so close by.

“Ah━ You’re so fucking hot━” he whines. “Gonna cum━”

Every thrust of his hips sends you bobbing up and down, and as you come down from your high the pleasurable feeling of his hard cock still burrowed in your sensitive walls has you whimpering softly. Your legs try to separate further, beckoning him for more.

“Cum in me, Youngie,” you beckon dazedly. “Wanna feel it so bad━”

“Oh, fuck━” he gasps. “Can I?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You’re so good to me, baby. Aren’t you?”

His pace quickens, hips snapping into yours urgently. One final shuddering thrust and he’s overwhelmed by his orgasm, cock pulsating within your aching walls as his cum fills you up. He has to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his moans, listening to the sharp gasp for air you take when you feel his release.

He rides out his high in a few more leisure rolls of his hips, though he seems more concerned now with kissing your throat slowly. He gently unravels your leg from his shoulder, then slumps against you like the comfortable heavy weight that he is. His dick lays softening still buried within your walls, now leaking with his cum.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” You hear him sigh dreamily into your neck. “‘Cause you are.”

“Almost daily,” You concur with a giggle. Your own fingers smooth out his hair, fixing the messy strands, and he croons with delight. He leaves a trail of sweet kisses up along your throat, then your jaw, and then the corner of your mouth. Safe for the laboured breathing as you both try to calm your shrill hearts, you’re made aware so suddenly of just how quiet the room suddenly is. “There’s no way the guys slept through all of that.”

“I’m sure they did.” Wooyoung nibbles gingerly at your lip. “There’s nothing to worry about. Especially right now. I’m so tired. We can deal with the potential consequences later.”

You snort. “How did I know that’s exactly what you would say?”

You catch him smirking before he plants one last kiss on your lips. Somehow, he’s able to pry himself off of you long enough to slip into his shorts laying discarded on the floor before disappearing outside of the room into the darkened hallway. He returns moments later with a damp towel to help clean up the sticky mess between your legs, then tugs you back onto the bed with him.

“They’ll see you sneaking out of my room if you sleep here,” You point out through a yawn.

“I’ll get up before them,” he insists. “Just give me an hour with you, like this.”

You can’t resist the urge.

At the very least, you fall asleep first in his arms, his fingers playing with your hair. He must slip away from you at some point during the night, unraveling himself carefully from your sleeping figure to retreat to his own room. You’ll tell the boys eventually of your relationship with Wooyoung, you swear.

But for now, there, under the covers of the bed, you have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself with Wooyoung in pure, unadulterated silence.

In the morning when you wake up, you join your boyfriend with the rest of the boys downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.

You’re the last to arrive, having wanted to take your time in the shower ━ a fact that Wooyoung laments, because he wanted nothing more than to shower with you to “save water” (which really just translates to more sex), but with only two bathrooms and nine people, the feat seemed impossible. Now, you sidle into the seat next to Wooyoung at the kitchen table, smiling down at him when his eyes flicker to you which seems to go unnoticed by the others.

“How was your night?” Yunho asks passively once you’ve settled into place. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, as Wooyoung answers, “Best sleep of my life.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” This amused offhanded scoff comes from San under his breath. It causes Mingi to almost choke on his sip of orange juice as he snorts into the glass.

“What was that?” Wooyoung asks.

“Oh, nothing,” San says. The smirk on his face says otherwise. “Thought we heard some loud noises last night. It was weird.”

Then there’s Mingi, leaning across the table to catch your attention alone. He shoots you a more merciful look, though he still seems entertained nevertheless when he whispers to you, “You have something on your neck.”

Your hand instinctively clamps onto your throat, over the spot Mingi points to as you mentally curse yourself. While you had been so preoccupied the night before trying not to make any noise, you forgot to warn Wooyoung against leaving any noticeable marks on your body ━ a bad habit of his, and your fatal mistake for forgetting to check the morning after.

The others are fortunately not paying attention, already absorbed in their own conversations, but the horror of so clearly being found out by San and Mingi sends you into a frenzy. It even seems to alarm Wooyoung judging by the way he starts laughing nervously, though maybe that’s because your knee bashes against his under the table and sends him jumping in his seat.

Clearly, you have a lot of explaining to do. Eventually.

The last thing you hear San say before he and Mingi howl with laughter seems to make even the charmingly confident Wooyoung slightly frazzled, and leaves you all the more confused.

“Some romantic getaway, huh?” 

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[sabraeal]

The Sword Between, Chapter 4

[Read on AO3]

Once, when Haki was but a small girl, hardly able to braid her own plaits, Father woke her in the dead of night. Frost clung thickly on her windowpanes, leaving the world a mystery of midnight; a magical hour, one where winged vettes could sweep down from the skies or trolls could peek out from the rafters. Those were the kinds of things that happened to princesses, after all, and here she was, living in a castle that once belonged to a king.

Come with me. His hand beckoned, promising mischief, even while his mouth threatened a lecture. Confused, she traipsed after him on slippered feet, shrugging her furred cloak around her shoulders.

They went up, up, up to the highest parapets, to where only the stray night guard patrolled. Wirant sprawled beneath them, the walls snaking along its edges, leading out to the glistening university at the horizon. Their lands now, with no lord above them. Duke, the letter said that morning, Warden of the North. Father had not looked a pleased as a man should, given such a promotion.

Over there. Father pointed out to the shadows in the distance, the round stone towers that squatted along the roads. Those outposts. In the olden days, when the lords still warred with one another, it would be to those our guard looked. Should any army encroach upon us, they would light bonfires, warning their liege of danger.

She squinted into the distance, blinking away the snow that settled thick on her lashes. Even at this distance, lights flickered through the arrow slits, winking in the dark. A bonfire, set on their roofs-- that would light up the sky, clear as any candle

And when those fires called their lords to the battlefield, Father pressed, wind whipping at his words, it was their women who protected these halls.

Haki pictured it, campfires burning like stars on the snowfields. A hundred-- no, a hundred thousand men waiting to besiege their walls, rattling their spears as the drums of war sounded across the dark. And the lady of this castle watching it all through the sleepless night, knowing that come dawn, there would be no relief to see them through. Only her men and the steel of her spine.

Haki. Father did not turn to look at her, merely stared out toward the vanished horizon, lost in the dark. Out toward Lilias, and beyond it-- The king has asked for your hand. He would like you to marry his eldest, the prince Izana.

Her hand curled around the crenelation, stone cold against her palm. Father did not speak into the silence, but she could hear what he didn’t say all the louder: some women are called to defend their house with blade and hand, and others--

Others protected it another way.

Tell him, she said, her small voice bursting into clouds before her, that it would be an honor.

Haki may ask, “Where is he?” but she is already in motion, skirts swinging around her legs as she pivots, no longer headed towards her chambers, but away.

A guest as esteemed as His Highness should be greeted in the yard, with Father and Makiri waiting at the top of the steps to receive him. He’d be given time to wash off the dust from the road, for his entourage to order themselves before being brought in for formal introductions. That is the way it would be done in the South, complete with berries and champagne and probably a dozen women to sweeten the deal.

Should, should, should. The question is: what does Father mean to do?

Ami falls in three racing steps behind her, huffing hard from even so little exertion. Perhaps she has been letting off her maid too easy, like Makiri says. “The hall.”

Ah, so Father would be sparing the prince no favors. No friendly greeting for the prized son of his liege, oh no; His Highness would be brought in left-footed, forced to make obeisances like any earl’s son might. No time to clean up, no time to rest, not time to prepare.

Her mouth curls, a cruel humor creeping across mouth. This prince may be half a god in the South, but he would learn just where an up-jumped second son stood in the North.

“My lady!” Ami lags behind her, panting now, but there’s no time to wait for her. “Should you not--?”

“Are you going dressed like that?”

The effect is, embarrassingly, immediate. Her heels dig in, body lurching to a halt; her wasted motion turns her, her glare steeped with such derision that a lesser man would shatter to pieces. At least, it should. That’s how it always works for Father.

Lowen simply smirks, his face a mockery of innocence. Curse him, for it is impossible to tell whether her presence needs improving, or whether he is naturally impervious. Either way, he delights in the way she storms to him, not even flinching when she puts herself bare inches away, close enough that a well-timed breath might cause them to touch.

It is, perhaps, a poor position to take on this battlefield, since touch they do, her chest brushing the bottom of his ribs. Her face floods with heat, but still she forges on, demanding, “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“Nothing, my lady.” His smirk slants to a yet slyer angle. “It is only, if you mean to receive the prince...”

Her brow arches, imperious as any queen. She knows; she’s practiced many a time in her mirror. “It there something wrong with how I am dressed? Is it not fine enough for His Highness?”

Certainly not for a formal introduction in Wistal’s court, but that was the point. This prince must learn what little currency his title bought him here. It would make him desperate, lead him to make foolish mistakes--

“Not if you mean to make him love you.”

Haki blinks. “Excuse me?”

“That is what your father wants, isn’t it? A happy--” his gaze rakes up her from slipper to collar, his hooded eyes no barrier to its heat--“husband?”

Her breath catches, knotting tight in her chest. There’s no reasoning when he’s so close, when his warmth mingles with hers in the bare space between their bodies. When the place his thumb traced burns like a brand on her skin still. 

A better hostage than a husband. Even with His Highness’s early arrival, Father’s plan would not have changed. Eager she might be to mark her protest to the king’s plan, a shrewdness demands a more metered response. It was a poor player who tipped his hand early, and a dead one that did it with rebellion on the line.

“Ami.” She tears herself away, palms bunched in the thick fabric of her skirts. “Did Father say he would be in the hall, or to meet him in the hall?”

Ami’s gaze darts nervously, first dancing over her face, then back to where Lowen lingers. Her mouth pinches, as tight as her hands clasp in front of her. “He would meet you in the hall. His lordship means to receive His Highness now, in the company of your brother, and they will meet again for the formal reception once the prince and his party have had time to freshen themselves.”

Ah, Father must not see Prince Zen as a threat, but as a boy to be wooed. A second son to be impressed by a first one’s welcome.

And Lowen had seen it, far better than she.

“Well.” Haki smooths her skirts, composing herself. “That does give us time, then. Come, I must make myself an eager princess.”

Ami hurries after her with no need of further encouragement, but Lowen-- Lowen lingers. His mouth smooths to a smirk when she turns to him, brow arched with a temple’s worth of irreverence. “Me as well, my lady?”

She tilts her chin, smile curling with mischief. “You especially, sir.”

There is little fanfare when Haki enters her rooms, but when she makes to lead them through the parlor to her bedchamber, Ami stops Lowen at the door.

“You may stay out here, sir,” she says, hand pressed firmly into his chest. “Where her ladyship entertains.”

Lowen blinks, at a loss. “Ami...?”

To Haki’s confusion, her maid flushes, the tips of her ears an angry red. “Now, sir, don’t make this any harder than it is. You and I know that the seats out here are just as fine.”

His brow furrows. “I don’t see why--?”

“Ami?” Haki wraps a hand around the girl’s arm, forcing her to lower it. “What are you on about.”

“Begging your pardon, my lady. I know he’s supposed to keep his eyes on you, but...” She draws herself up, favoring Lowen with as severe a look as her quarter century can conjure. “I think it’s best that Sir Lowen keep himself where there’s no...surfaces.”

“Surfaces?” There’s a table right by the sofa, a bouquet fresh from Lilias sitting on it, unmistakable. “But there’s--”

It’s unbecoming for a lady to blush, but Haki finds herself hard-pressed to be elsewise when Ami fixed her with that meaningful glance. Only last night she had sent her maid away, telling her that Lowen would help her to bed, and-- how foolish she must have seemed, saying such a thing. Then to be caught in the hall with him so close, to have so clearly abandoned reason-- a confidante  her maid may well be, but Ami’s pay comes from Father’s pockets, not her own. Last night, she was a foolish girl betrothed to a prodigal prince, and this morning...this morning Father needs her to be above reproach.

A hard thing to be, when even now the memory of his touch lingers on her arm, and the heat of his gaze presses upon her back.

But not for long. With a neat pivot, Lowen surveys the parlor. Or at least, makes a good show of it, running his long fingers over seams and studs as if he has not had the last two years to memorize every inch of them. His interest would even read as natural, a whim of the moment rather than a reaction to it, were it not for the pink dusting at the tips of his ears, or the convenient way it put his back to them.

“Well.” He coaxes a burr clear of his throat, bringing it back to his usual register. “I suppose I could sit. And wait.”

It would be easy to undercut Ami; she is not the lady here, nor even enough authority to act as chaperone. In the south, she would be little more than decoration, one of a hundred replaceable faces. One word from Haki and all her concern could be swept away like ash on the hearth.

But, fortunately or not, Wirant is not Wistal. And even if it were, Haki knows better than to spurn loyalty where she finds it. No matter how much she wishes Ami could have waited at least a few minutes more to announce herself in that hall.

“An excellent idea, Sir Lowen,” she manages, pitching her voice to be fuller, more mature. It comes off somewhere closer to officious. “I think, perhaps, I shall join you.”

“My lady...” Ami’s frown furrows in warning. “Are you sure that’s...?”

Wise. Haki can practically hear the word echoing in the air. “Lowen and I have much to discuss. That is, if he does not mind being pressed.”

Both his brows lift, though not far. Surprise, but not shock. A measured response, a controlled one.

She hates it already. Lords above, save her from this man being restrained. “I think you know full well that I could not deny my lady anything.”

Besides a dance, of course. But that’s hardly a conversation she wishes to retread with an audience. Especially one as interested as Ami would make.

“But I must admit,” he continues, entirely too cordial for her liking, “that I do not see what help I could be to you.”

“Why, sir,” she does not purr, running her fingers along the spine of her sofa. “You are our expert on what our young prince likes.”

Haki is no stranger to knights; Wirant has its own circle, one her brother joined only a few years past. One he will doubtlessly run, once society-- and, she must begrudgingly admit, his skill-- drags him up the ranks. She is no stranger to the restless energy pent up behind their livery, the polite words that merely gild their rougher opinions.

So when Lowen’s ease hardens, when his idleness turns to vigilance, she knows: he is bracing for a hit. No, for a fight; one he does not expect to limp from without a wound. “I beg your pardon?”

He has not been so formal with her since those first, disastrous weeks. The ones where she’d been so desperate to drive him away, and he’d clung to her nape like a mother cat does her kitten.

There is little she would like less than to go back to those days. “You have met him, have you not? While you were working in Wistal with your mysterious lord.”

“Lords,” he replies stiffly, stressing the plural. “A few times. He was but a child then, hardly out of the nursery. Not someone who looked at...women.”

“It is a fair sight more than anyone else in Wirant,” she informs him with equal warmth. “It will take an age if Ami must pull out every gown in my wardrobe, and we have very time to waste. Perhaps if His Highness had not been taken with the whim to race the post...” She shrugs, elegant. At least, so she hopes. “Surely you must have some idea about what a boy like that might want in a wife?”

He grits out woodenly, “I could not possibly venture a guess, my lady.”

Were her blood any less blue, Haki would let her eyes roll, but as it is, she merely sighs, shaking her head. “If this were the first prince, it would be far easier.”

Some life leaks into her knight’s expression, an eyebrow edging flirting with a bid toward his hairline. “Would it, now?”

“Of course.” A forelock tickles her collarbone; with a single hand she straightens it, sending some wayward strands over her shoulder. “A profligate dandy such as that might make noise about wanting a demure woman for a wife, but he does not take those to bed. Tempting him would require something bold, a dress to draw the eye. Something that might inspire a fire in him.”

Lowen’s mouth twitches, though she cannot tell in which direction he means it to trend. “Is that a fact?”

“So you see my trouble,” she continues, ignoring him. The last thing she needs are his pithy comments about her attempts at seduction. “If he is like his brother, I will go bolder, but if not--”

“He is nothing like his brother.”

Haki blinks, as wide-eyed as the man that sits across from her. “Is that so?”

“It...is.” Lowen speaks as if the words ails him, as if both of them might as well be cut from his own flesh. With a harsh breath, he is calm again, his tone as still and as smooth as a pond iced over, “I heard it remarked upon often in the castle. He learned all his politics from knight’s tales and fairy stories, and that foolishness breeds true in the way he approaches the court.“

“But you said he was a child, surely--”

“Idealism takes root root early, and is a...challenge to weed out.” His lips flirt with a grimace before settling into their customary line. “He believes in goodness the way some men believe in gods. Were we in a story book, he would be the perfect prince, but in reality, he is only--”

Lowen’s teeth snap shut. “I mean to say,” he begins again, the heat gone from him, “that he puts a great deal in appearances. First meetings. Fate.”

Fate. He says the word with such venom, as if he would find the women himself and tear their weaving asunder. As if he would break their loom in both hands were he given half the chance. It is easy to forget with all his pretty speeches, that Lowen is first a mercenary, a man of fortune; the sort, Father had said, too many times to count, who has been burned by luck and lived to tell the tale.

Oh, how she wish he would tell it to her as well. But by the distant look in his eyes, she doubts there’s a man living who has.

“So I must be a vision,” she concludes, clearing her throat. No need to let him know that she squints to read between his lines. “A perfect princess, ready-made for his pleasure.”

“Perhaps the rose taffeta, my lady?” Ami prompts, hovering at the door. “Or the white organza?”

Both are a little fussy for her tastes, but then, there are few princesses who are not. “Yes, fetch those first. And perhaps the yellow silk?”

“As you say, my lady.” Still, Ami hesitates at the threshold, hovering as if she has yet more to suggest. Haki nearly asks-- there is no one alive who knows the contents of her wardrobe quite as well as her-- but then her dark eyes dart to where Lowen sits, far too pointed.

“And keep the door open,” she concedes, generously. “There may be more requests forthcoming should Lowen--”

Lowen makes a noise Haki can only call undignified.

She turns to him with one brow arches, censure in every inch. “Is there something amusing, sir?”

“It’s nothing,” he assures her with a smile that is anything but. “I was only thinking that the prince was known for being more...simple in his tastes. Humble, even.”

“Humble?” she murmurs like a thunderstorm. “Are you making a joke of this, Sir Lowen? Does this all amuse you?”

“I promise you,” he says, smirk ceding to serious. “There is nothing that amuses me less. I only mean to say that he is hardly impressed by royal trappings.”

Heat simmers beneath her skin. Already the king has made a mockery of her, passing her from one son to another; the last thing she needs is for Lowen to make her into a laughingstock, a plate for all the peerage to titter at over the front page. “And so I must arrive to the meeting looking like I am some girl he met in the woods? A secret princess he must kiss to relevance?”

Lowen does not flush, never in anger, but she sees the steady ease in his shoulders and knows it is practiced, not natural. “I said only that simplicity would impress him more than decoration.”

“Should I greet him in tweed?” she asks, every word a barb. “Perhaps a plaid one, so that he feels as if he is truly in the country--”

His mouth curls, half a sneer. “It would certainly be better than looking like a confection--”

“Men eat confections!”

Her words echo back to her ears, too loud, too heated. Again, she’s let him rile her, the way he did in those early days. The way that drove her to distraction again and again, until--

Haki settles back on her cushion, spreading her skirts to lay flat. It’s silly to act this way now, two years on and nearly a woman grown, knowing that all she’s arguing for is his attention. She certainly won’t impress him flushed and fussed as she is.

“If you have some suggestion,” she begins again, measured. “Then I would be happy to--”

“The blue.”

Her eyes flutter, confused, but there he sits, shoulders carefully relaxed, gaze fixed upon the flowers between them. “I beg your--?”

“The blue silk,” he repeats with precision. “With the lace fall at the collar. I think--” his tongue snakes out wetting his lips-- “I think he would like that most.”

“I...” Her jaw closes, so carefully. It had been a favored dress of hers, years ago. She’d been wearing it the night father told her of her new guard, the young knight would would be her shadow at the soiree, and he-- she--

“It’s not quite Wisteria blue,” she murmurs, “but it is very...youthful.”

“It brings out your eyes.” Lowen hums, shifting in his seat, and oh, how she wonders if he meant to say so much. “It would be easy for a man to fall in love with a lady in a dress such as that.”

Did you? she doesn’t ask, though her lips itch with it. It’s impossible; she’d been terrible then, losing him around every corner and cursing when he appeared at her side, not at all the young lady her father had told him of. But still, still, the look in his eyes--

“Fine,” she says, too breathless. “The blue it is.”

[writer05]

Flirting

Pairing: Newt x reader

Summary: A new greenie comes up in the box and gets a little to close to Y/N for Newt’s liking, and one day, he’s had enough and decides to do something about it

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,485 Words

Note: transferred from my Wattpad account writer_reader05

The new Greenie was coming up today, and Alby always let me take the day off to give them the tour. It was what I did. Every newbie that’s come up in the box after me has gotten the tour from me. I was currently working in the fields with Newt at my side, and we were both planting seeds, well, until the box alarm went off. 

"Right on time," I say to Newt. 

Newt laughed and dropped the shovel he was holding. "You enjoy this, don't you?" 

"Yep. It's my favorite day of the month," I answer. Newt and I then walked over to the box where a few Gladers were already gathering. 

"Who's turn is it to get him?" Gally questioned. 

"Mine," I respond. Gally nodded, and him and Newt opened up the box. As light streamed into the cage below, I jumped down, my feet clanging against the metal. The sound echoed around the small space, and the boy in the box jumped. "Hey, greenie. Do you have a name?" 

"I-It's Jack," the boy stuttered. 

"Nice to meet you, Jack. I'm Y/N," I tell him and extend my hand. Jack took ahold of my palm, and I pulled up him.

"Where am I?" Jack asked. 

"I'll explain everything in a minute. For now, lets get you out of here. No one likes to spend more time in the box than they have to," I exclaim. Newt dropped a rope down into the box which Jack used to get out, and I followed suit. As everyone started unloading the box, I started my tour. "All right Jack, we have 3 rules here. One, always do your part. We can't have freeloaders. Two, never harm another glader. We need to trust each other for everything here to work. Now the most important rule; Never go outside these walls, unless you're a runner like me and a couple of other guys like them," I explain and point to Minho and Thomas, who had just exited the maze and made their way towards us.

"New greenie?" Minho questioned. 

"Yeah,” I reply. “Minho, this is Jack. Jack, this is Minho and Thomas." 

"Nice meeting you. While this has been great, we have to map the maze," Minho admitted before he and Thomas ran off. I continued my tour of the Glade, and once I was done with that, I talked about all of the different job options.

"So, what job interests you most?" I quiz. 

"I think I want to try out being a builder," Jack spoke. I nodded and led Jack back to the builders, and we met up with Gally. 

"Hey, Sailor” Gally greeted me. “What's up?" 

"The greenie here wants to try out being a builder. I figured if anyone could show him the ropes, it'd be you. I also have to get back to gardening, so I need to pass him off to someone else," I add. 

"All right. I'll take care of him," Gally said. 

"Great. Thank you. Bye, Jack. See you later, Captain," I chirp. When I got back to the gardens, I started helping Newt pull weeds, and for awhile, we were silent, but finally, Newt spoke up. 

"So, how was the newbie?” Newt asked. “Minding his manners I hope.” 

I laughed. "He wasn’t the perfect gentleman like you are, but he was nice. He decided to be a builder, so I left him with Gally." A few hours later, it was time for dinner, which was one of my favorite times of the day because I got to sit with all of my friends. I watched as Jack took a seat with the builders, and they started hitting it off immediately. I guess he found the right job. Some greenies have a hard time fitting in, but I didn’t think Jack would be one of them. After dinner, since a new greenie had arrived, we had a bonfire. I was hanging out with Thomas and Minho, but they had both had too much of Gally’s drink and were as drunk as ever. That was my cue to take off for the night. Instead of going to my hammock though, I walked over to the deadheads and took a seat against a tree. Minutes later, Jack came and took a seat next to me. "Hey, greenie." 

"Hey, Y/N,” Jack slurred. 

"I thought I told you to stay away from Gally's drink," I point out. 

"You did, but I chose not to listen. I've never had a pretty woman give me orders before," Jack muttered and placed his hand against my cheek. I immediately stood up and dusted myself off.

"Okay, um, while this has been fun, I'm getting tired, so I'm going to head to bed," I announce. 

"Goodnight baby!" Jack shouted as I headed to my hammock. The next couple days were fine, but there was one problem. A big problem. Jack kept trying to flirt with me. The first time it happened, I waved it aside because he was drunk, and everyone does stupid things when they're drunk. However, now, every time he spots me, he flirts with me. It was getting kind of annoying, and it also made me really uncomfortable. During dinner, I sat down next to Thomas, and for some unknown reason, Jack came and sat next to me. He always sat with builders. I ignored it though, figuring that he just wanted to talk to new people for once. But halfway through dinner, he put his hand on my thigh. I politely pushed his hand off and got back to eating, but minutes later, it appeared again. 

"Excuse me. I've lost my appetite," I state angrily and get up, taking off towards the deadheads. Newt followed me, grabbing my arm just before I could make it past the tree line and into the dense forest. 

"What's wrong?" Newt asked me. 

"Jack is what's wrong,” I answer. “He’s constantly flirting with me even though I've told him many times that I’m with you. And just now during dinner, he kept laying his hand on my thigh. I'm getting really tired of him." 

"How about next time he's bothering you, shout for me and I'll be there as fast as I can," Newt suggested. 

"Deal," I say and peck his lips. The next day, I was happy because Jack couldn't bother me for most of the day since I was running the maze. I was running alone today, which was like a once in a lifetime opportunity. Minho hates when runners run by themselves, but because I was assigned the easiest section, Minho allowed it. As soon as I exited the maze though, my day was ruined because Jack was waiting for me. 

"Hey pretty lady," Jack greeted and sent a smile in my direction. 

I sighed and stopped in my tracks. "Leave me alone, Jack. I'm not in the mood. I've got to map my section." 

Jack scowled and pushed me up against the maze wall. "I don't think I will." 

"Get off of me," I demand and attempt to push him off of me. However, it was no use. Working with the builders for the last couple of days gave him a lot of strength, and he easily overpowered me.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Looks like I'll get my chance," Jack exclaimed and smashed his lips to mine. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t because I was trapped beneath Jack’s body. I hated the way Jack's lips felt against mine, and I desperately wanted to get him off of me, so I came up with a plan. I couldn't physically push Jack off of me, but I could get him to loosen his grip another way. The first chance I got, I sunk my teeth into Jack's lower lip, causing him to cry out in pain and back away from me. Seconds later, Jack was thrown to the ground, and when I looked up, I saw that Newt had Jack pinned to the ground.

"Don't ever touch my girlfriend again or else you'll be the grievers next lunch. Do you understand me?" Newt asked. Jack nodded, and as soon as Newt let up his grip, Jack took off. "You all right, love?" 

"I'm fine. Thank you," I breathe out. 

"I thought I told you to call me if he was bothering you," Newt pointed out. 

"Well, I was kind of busy trying to get Jack's disgusting lips away from mine," I counter. 

"Right. Go on ahead and finish your work. We'll talk after," Newt told me. 

I smiled and pressed my lips to Newt's for a short but sweet kiss. "I love you." 

"I love you too. Seriously though, next time a guy tries hitting on you, shout for me," Newt said. 

"I will. I promise," I state and press my lips to his again.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything is now ruined.

Chapter 22: Then It Ended

As soon as we came, Annabeth ang Grover tackled me. We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls— Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up. Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

As I was still unclaimed, Hermes cabin had made me one. (Just... IDK go crazy with your shroud IG) It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, Percy and I was surrounded by my Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past." The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive us for disgracing their dad. That was okay with me. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...." Going back to the cabin I finally had time to talk to Luke. Who just expressed his relief of me being fine, and how he was scared when Annabeth told everyone about me. No wonder everyone was so shocked seeing me come back with Percy. On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors. As Annabeth, Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. "I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know." I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend. Annabeth and I gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..." "We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?" "Yeah." "And you remembered your reed pipes?" "Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat." But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway. "Well," he said, "wish me luck." He gave Annabeth and I another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware. "Hey, Grover," Percy called. He turned at the edge of the woods. "Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas." Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Annabeth said. July passed. I spent my daysplanning out strategies with Luke for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, Percy and I would walk past the Big House, he'd glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince him that its prophecy had come to completion. "You shall go west, and face the god who has turned." "Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades." "You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned." "Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades." "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend." Percy recited. "Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed us. That must be what the Oracle meant.... Or maybe Nereid?"

"And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end." He sighed. "I had failed to save my mom and lost you..."

"So why are you still uneasy?" The last night of the summer session came all too quickly. The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads. Percy and I got our own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"This is so beautiful..." I smiled to Percy. "The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!" The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year. * * * The next morning, Luke called me. He gave me a paper, telling me to fill it out, and asked me to meet him as soon as I could. I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear (WRONG NAME) , If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit. Have a nice day! Mr. D (Dionysus) Camp Director, Olympian Council #12 That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. Summer was over, and I still don't know what to do. I had no where to go to. The only option I had was Percy's or maybe Hades was not joking about inviting me back to the Underworld. Sighing I decided to just meet Luke before filling it for second opinions. The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport. I was walking around looking for Luke. I jumped when I felt someone tap me from behind. I instinctively unsheathed my knife and turned only to see Luke with his hands raised.

"Whoa! Calm down just me." He laughed.

"Kinda weird seeing someone laugh at a knife pointed at them." I smirked sheathing my knife.

"I only laugh since its you." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Are you done with everything?"

"Not really. I don't know whether to leave or not yet. That's why I came. Help me?" I asked him.

He turned to me and to the forest. "How about you hear me out about something... important and private... then decide?" He gestured towards the forest.

"Not planning on killing me are you?" I squinted at him.

He gasped. "Not you. Never. I would never hurt you."

I let him lead me to a shrouded area of the forest.

"How serious is this thing that you can't let anyone see? I am blindly trusting you here Luke." I laughed nervously. But when he didn't reply I felt something was off. "Luke, okay this isn't cool. How deep into the forest do we have to go?"

"Y/N remember when you said... You want to be the person I trust...? How you promised to help me?"

"Luke?" He took my hand and pulled me sharply. I winced at how hard he pulled me. "That hurts! Let me go!"

He snapped back and let go of my wrist. "I-I'm sorry... Y/N..."

As much as I knew I had to leave, I couldn't I was worried about him. I reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"I did it..." I said and sat on the ground. "I swear I didn't mean to get you hurt. But, I confess to everything. I  stole bolt and helm, I summoned the hound, I gave Percy the cursed shoes... And just now, I tried to kill Percy Jackson." He looked at me with empty eyes.

I shot up and looked at him in emotions I couldn't put in words. "W-Wh---" I wanted to leave and check on Percy. But once again, seeing him right now... I need to stay with him. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Join me... please?" his voice was weak. He sounded vulnerable. "Let's serve my Lord together..."

"L-Luke... no. I-I can't do that!" I took his shoulder, "Y-You should stay with me instead. How about that, huh? L-Let's explain to Chiron and the others... come on please. I could help you!"

Nothing was working.

"Come with me..." He muttered.

"Luke, I won't join you. You have to change your mind. You can't do this."

"I can't change my mind."

"I can help you with that? How about you go with me huh? I could spend all my time doing this and that. Please, just change your mind."

He didn't reply for a while until he whispered, "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"You'll stay with me."

"What? Luke I wo--"

"You won't join... Just...don't stay here for the year... and stay with me."

"I-If I stay with you... what would that mean?"

"Yo-You... might change my mind."

"I'll go." I replied with no hesitation. "I'll leave camp for the year. And I'll find my parent to prove to you that Gods and Goddess aren't all bad. We'll find my parent together."

"I do my lord's bidding--"

"You can still do it. If you want to. But whatever happens... stays only between us. I'll stay with you until I change your mind. And I'll bring you back to camp."

"I would never do anything to ruin your trust in me." He knelt down. It was kinda awkward but hey... "I need you."

Worry not hero. We shall stay.

"Please..."

We'll meet again. Wait for us, we shall join you soon. Now leave.

I had no idea what happened since when I came to Luke was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. How were we going to st---

We will meet him once we leave. Now go as our hero needs us.

I suddenly remembered Percy's state that Luke had told me about. So I ran. I ran to the Big House

***

Percy finally opened his eyes. He was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth and I sat next to Percy, I was holding his nectar glass and she was dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

"Here we are again," Percy said. "You idiot," Annabeth said, "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..." "Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved." "Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened." Between sips of nectar, he told them the story.

I bit my lip trying to keep what happened between Luke and I private. It was a risky move that would not be approved by anyone after all. The room was quiet for a long time. "I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy was looking at me as if checking what was my reaction to his story. "This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once." "Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him." Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—" "Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!" "Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready." "Chiron... your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? Y/N? And Annabeth?" Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—" "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?" His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..." Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows. "All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." "We can't just sit back and do nothing," He said. "We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come." "Assuming I live that long." Chiron put his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice...." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision." "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you." He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here." "Who's here?" Percy asked. Nobody answered. Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. Annabeth studied the floor. "What's wrong?" Percy asked her. "Nothing. I ... just took your advice about something. You ... um ... need anything?" "Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside." "Percy, that isn't a good idea." Percy slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

I said, "I told you ..." "I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance. By the time we reached the porch, his face was beaded with sweat. But we had managed to make it all the way to the railing. It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun. "What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked us. "I don't know." Percy replied. "I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I'm not sure that's what I want. I also don't want to leave you both with Clarisse only." Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy." He stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?" She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver. "I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try." "That took guts." She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message? Both of you?" Percy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"You already know my plans."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?" "Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. Percy shook it. She gave me a hug. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Then turned to me, "Good luck on your own quest Droopy."

"Of course Peabody." We watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world. "I made my decision." Percy said. "What's yours?"

"I'll be leaving camp... I'm going to look for my parent..." He looked at me in shock. "I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then."

"Alone?"

I smiled at him.

"Don't you want to stay with us? Mom said---"

"I want to find my parent. I need to. I'll be fine Percy."

I helped Percy to his cabin so he could pack and went to mine. To my surprise I see a middle-aged man with an athletic figure slim and fit with salt-and-pepper hair, and a very familiar sly grin. He had bags at his foot.

"Delivery for Y/N L/N."

"Uhm..."

"Hermes." He said.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Personally packed. As a thank you for what you're about to do." He smiled softly and handed me the bags.

"H-Huh...?"

"For helping Luke."

"I..."

Don't forget her mail!

Ooh! And tell her to bring us snacks next time we meet since it'll be often now!

No it wouldn't be often! She'll be with Luke!

"Both of you keep quiet." Pulling out a mail he handed it to me. "Luke... prayed to me telling me about your plan. He asked me to help you. I don't know what or why he did it. But I know he'll change thanks to you. So do guide him."

"Sorry you lost me at the talking air..." I blinked.

Hermes laughed and showed a caduceus. "It's just George and Martha."

"Hi?"

Hello!

Hi

"I just wanted to let you know. No god or goddess could see you. No matter how hard they tried. So your secrets.. are really secrets. Good luck on your travel."

Next time we meet you should have snacks.

Then he vanished.

Staring at the letter on my hand, I was stunned seeing it was from... my mom and dad.

Sweetie,

You've made quite a friend here.

-Mom and Dad.

I immediately knew where to look. I hurriedly took my bags not bothering to check the contents. I ran to Percy's cabin and helped him out so we could leave.

Percy got a cab and looked at me worriedly.

"I'll write you. Stay safe Arthur Curry." I ruffled his hair and watched him go.

I didn't know where to go so I just went to the first secluded area I saw.

"You have more stuffs than when you arrived." I heard someone behind me.

"You prayed to your dad. I hope he knows how to pack." I sighed turning to him. Turning around I barely made out Luke from the few days I last saw him. "You okay?"

"Do you know where to look first?"

Call upon our hound.

I whistled, I don't know why. But when I did, D/N came out of the blue. Luke looked at me and my dear dog, who was probably bigger than the hound he'd summon back then. "How do feel about L.A?" I said riding on D/N and making space behind me for Luke.

~~~END OF BOOK 1~~~

Previous | Book 1 Masterlist | Series Masterlist

END OF BOOK ONE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING YLATHB I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I'LL PUBLISH BOOK 2 WHEN I'M DONE OR EVEN AT LEAST HAVE WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK 2 ;))

I HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!!

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[barry-j-blupjeans]

39 for taako&barry?

39. leaning into the other’s side

--

The smoke from the bonfire can be seen for miles. It stretches up past Neverwinter’s skyline, over the rubble and mess that the day had left. The energy from their win was dwindling down now, slowly collapsing in on itself as the reality set in- the apocalypse had come and gone. They had to rest before they would get the chance to rebuild. 

At this point, Barry felt he was pretty much dead to the world. He was sitting up against a tree, far enough away from the party to not be overwhelmed, but close enough to see who was were. He was... exhausted, and that was putting it lightly. He was half sure he’d never get his body to move from this spot again.

Besides, from this view, he could see Lup’s lich form bobbing and weaving its way through the crowd. He was getting a headache from how long he had been awake, how much energy he has used up, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was stupid, he knew. Lup wasn’t just going to- to disappear again. But he had to make sure.

He squinted as she started heading this way. In tow, Taako came with her. Or rather, she was leading Taako over to him. She had a hand on his shoulder and his feet weren’t getting all the way off the ground as he walked. He looked the way that Barry felt. When they finally reached him, Taako pretty much collapsed next to him. There was a noticeable hesitation, where he looked at Lup, and then scowled to himself, before tucking himself close to Barry’s side.

(Barry didn’t mention how good physical contact felt. It had been... how many years since he last got a hug?)

“Sleep,” Lup told them (it was probably supposed to just be directed at Taako, but the glowing orb’s where her eyes usually were directed themselves at Barry, too). “You look like you got run over by ten thousand food trucks.”

“You look like some rye bread that a cape got on,” Taako said. Barry snorted, rubbing at his face. Taako took the opportunity to move himself closer and no one mentioned it.

“You’ve used that one before, babe,” Lup said. Taako didn’t respond, burying his head into Barry’s neck. Barry wrapped an arm around him and watched as Lup’s form flickered slightly. She moved to wrap her form around the both of them- it wasn’t anything like Taako was against him, but the feeling was so distinctively Lup that Barry’s heart ached.

“I’m gonna chill here for a bit,” Lup murmured into his ear. Ghostly fingers carded through his hair. “I’m done with people.”

“That’s fine,” Barry said. “Wa- uhm. Wake me up if you go out again.”

“Of course,” Lup said.

And with that promise, and the real, solid weight of Taako against him, Barry let himself sleep.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #175

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re entering the Dead Heat Summer Race! That’s right, we’re finally doing some Summer servants... in the Summer! We’re still a year off, but at least they’ve got the spirit!

As an added challenge, I’ll make sure all the teams get their own car! Fran & Maid Alter get a pass since they’re teamed up with people that already have cars (Babbage & Nero, respectively), but the others will all have their own vehicles to ride!

Anyways, today we’re building Nero Claudius... again. I promise this is... probably(?) the last time. She’s a Creation Bard to build up her golden theater on the sea as well as a sick car. She’s also a Draconic Soul Sorcerer to grab those giant guns she’s got on her back.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Team Electric Steam feat. Papa!

Race and Background

Nero is still a Human Noble. This gives her +1 to any two stats, and her Constitution and Charisma will need rounding up in a second, so go with those. She also gets proficiency with History, Persuasion, and Performance, plus the Lucky feat to re-roll her attacks, saves, and checks plus incoming attacks three times per long rest. You might be in a bikini, but you’re still the emperor. You get what you want, and what you want is just about everything.

Ability Scores

Surprising no one, your Charisma is your highest stat. The race was basically a popularity contest, and you won almost every leg of it. Second is Dexterity- you’re fighting in either a dress or a swimsuit, but in either case it’s definitely not armor. Your Constitution is next, races take a while and there’s no time to stop for snacks, so you’ll have to toughen up a bit. After that is Intelligence. You’re flighty, not dumb. Your Strength isn’t amazing, you don’t really need big muscles to look good, but we’re dumping Wisdom. It wouldn’t be high at the best of times, and the caster class suits you to a dangerous degree.

Class Levels

1. Sorcerer 1: Starting off as a sorcerer may get you less health and fewer proficiencies, but you still get Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. You’re a caster now, it’s time to act like one.

The big reason we’re starting here right away is for the goody you get from being a Draconic Bloodline sorcerer, Draconic Resilience. Thanks to your great-great-great-great-great-grandparent Dragon Ancestor being a red dragon, you get an extra 1 hp for each level of this class, as well as a doubled proficiency bonus on charisma checks involving dragons.

You also get an unarmored defense of 13 + your dexterity modifier. Now you can wear a swimsuit anywhere you like without issues. I’d still recommend you don’t meet the king dressed like that, but you’re a noble, I’m sure he’s already expecting a bit of eccentricity.

You can also cast Spells using your Charisma, grab Light and Minor Illusion to put on a good show, Sword Burst so you can actually use a sword (we’ll get better options later), and Magic Missile and Create Bonfire for some quick shots from your cannons. You also get Absorb Elements, because this and Blade Ward are the easiest to get “weakness nullifying” spells, and this one’s actually good.

2. Bard 1: Bouncing over to bard real quick gives you another set of Spells that also use Charisma. You also get Bardic Inspiration, d6s you can hand out as a bonus action to allies. While they have one, they can add it to an attack, save, or check they have to make. You have Charisma Modifier inspiration dice to give out per long rest.

You do whatever you want, and while Prestidigitation isn’t quite that open-ended, it’s still pretty good for a single spell. You also get Friends, Command and Charm Person to be your usual charming self. Grab Cure Wounds for just a touch of healing, and Feather Fall. You’ve got giant metal wings, they should be good for something, right?

You get proficiency with Animal Handling as well.

3. Bard 2: Second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency bonus to all ability checks. You can also perform a Song of Rest on short rests, adding 1d6 to healing done. Your dulcet tones inspire everyone around you! (Usually to put as much distance between themselves and you as possible, but hush)

Your inspiration also turns into Magical Inspiration- creatures can use your inspiration to add to their spell’s damage or healing potential.

Finally, you get the spell Unearthly Chorus, which doesn’t have any damage or healing potential! It just makes you even better at charisma checks. It’s also very flavorful for someone about to open a theater.

4. Bard 3: Third level bards graduate from their college, and the College of Creation will one day allow you to afford a car! For now, you only have a Note of Potential, adding extra effects to your inspiration depending on how they’re used. Adding one to an ability check gives the user advantage on the die roll. Adding it to an attack roll deals thunder damage to the target and each creature next to it that fails a constitution save. Adding it to a saving throw adds temporary hp to the user equal to the roll plus your charisma modifier.

You know how I just said you only have the note? We lied. You can also make a Performance of Creation once per long rest or by spending a second level spell slot. You can create any nonmagical item, as long as it is worth less than 20 times your bard level in GP, and medium or smaller. Neither of those restrictions will help you make a car, but they’ll improve as you level up.

Finally, you get Expertise in Animal Handling and Arcana, doubling your proficiency bonus in both skills.

For your spell, Enhance Ability makes it easier to do whatever you set your mind to, giving advantage on one kind of ability check for the duration.

5. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells and more inspiration.

You also learn the Dancing Lights cantrip so you can put on even better shows, and Pyrotechnics for pretty much the same reason. You need an existing source of fire to set it off, but you can always combo it with Create Bonfire in a pinch.

6. Bard 5: Fifth level bards are a Font of Inspiration, recharging your inspiration on short rests instead of long ones. Also, your inspiration grows to d8s.

You can also make a Motivational Speech with a third level spell slot, giving your party temporary HP, advantage on wisdom saves, and advantage on its next attack if it gets hit by an attack.

7. Bard 6: Countercharm is okay, spend an action to give advantage to your party on charm and frightening saves, but we’re really here for your subclass specialties. Your Performance of Creation can make Large objects now, and you can spend an action to make an Animating Performance, turning a large or smaller (gee, that worked out nicely) object into a Dancing Item for up to an hour. It’ll only dodge on its turn unless you use your bonus action to command the thing, but you can inspire people and command it in the same action. You can make a dancing item once per long rest, or by using third level spell slots. Also, you can only have one at a time. I’m pretty sure a functional car in a medieval setting is worth more than 120 gold though, so we’ll work on it some more later.

For your spell, I’d suggest Suggestion, it’s very useful for making the world revolve around you.

8. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers become a Font of Magic (you are just becoming a font for all sorts of crap, huh?), giving you sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level. You can turn spell slots into points, or points into slots, or even cooler stuff next level!

For now, the big new thing is you can cast Shield. Those giant metal wings make it harder to hit you than you’d think.

9. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers get that cooler thing I was just talking about, Metamagic! When you get it now, you get two metamagic options that can alter how your spells work; Heightened spells force disadvantage against their save on one creature they effect, and Twinned spells target two creatures instead of only one (Note: twinned spells only work on spells that target a single creature.)

You also get Scorching Ray, giving you a macross missile massacre of fire out of those organcannons you’re hauling around with you.

10. Bard 7: We’re stopping back in bard real quick to grab your fourth level spell, Hallucinatory Terrain. Somehow you always bring the waterfront with you when you use your NP, and now you really can do that!

11. Sorcerer 4: Use this ASI to max out your Charisma for the best spells possible. Speaking of the best spells possible, you can cast True Strike now for advantage on an attack next turn! You can also cast Shadow Blade so you have a sword you can attack with. A cool, spooky sword that deals psychic damage and has advantage against targets in the dark. Yes, it took us half the build to get a sword, that’s what happens when you’re a cavalry class.

12. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers are even better at skill checks now thanks to their Magical Guidance, using your sorcery points to reroll failed checks for, essentially, permanent advantage on whatever you do.

You can also cast Water Walk. Eventually your NP will involve actual water, so you’ll want to be prepared for that. Forcing your whole party to do the doggy paddle every time you want to cut loose isn’t a great look, be a team player here.

13. Sorcerer 6: Our last stop on the sorcerer train is sixth level, giving you an Elemental Affinity for fire. All your fire damage spells get your charisma added to their damage, and you can spend a sorcery point after casting one of them to gain resistance to fire damage for an hour. Always remember to apply sunscreen throughout the day. Now more than ever, that shit gets hot.

To take advantage of this new affinity, you can cast Melf’s Minute Meteors, launching chunks of those cannons off and firing a couple per turn at your enemies, dealing fire damage in a small area around their destination. Creatures have to make a dexterity save, and if they succeed they take half damage. Like scorching ray, these are multiple instances of fire damage, so add your charisma to each one.

14. Bard 8: Back in bard for good now! Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity so you can start being good with a sword. Just in case that’s still not enough, you can cast Charm Monster now too. You have enough gravitas to bend the authors to your will, I’m sure you can handle a manticore or two.

15. Bard 9: Your Song of Rest grows to 1d8 now, but more importantly you get fifth level spells! Animate Objects is another way to build your car (we’re still 5 levels away from performance of creation building it) or to get your cannon bits into position.

16. Bard 10: Tenth level bards get another cantrip! Honestly, we probably should’ve gotten Mending earlier. Adventuring in an outfit where a single snapped string can completely remove your top isn’t a great idea. You also get Magical Secrets, giving you two spells from any spell list. Flame Blade gives you a more thematically appropriate weapon, and Fireball is a big boom you can fire off.

On top of that, you get another round of Expertise, doubling your proficiency in Performance and Persuasion.

You also get a bigger inspiration, letting you hand out d10s.

17. Bard 11: Eleventh level bards get sixth level spells, like Mass Suggestion. It’s like Suggestion, but for the masses.

18. Bard 12: Use this last ASI to bump up your Dexterity again for a higher AC and better swordplay.

19. Bard 13: Your song of rest increases to a d10 as well, and you get the seventh level spell of champions, Mirage Arcane! If you make an illusion you can really feel, is it still an illusion? Anyways, you can make your golden theater now and the ocean surrounding it, and it all lasts for 10 days!

20. Bard 14: Your capstone level of bard lets you hit a Creative Crescendo, creating up to five items at once when you use your Performance of Creation. One of those objects can be Huge, the rest all have to be Small or smaller. You also don’t have to worry about cost when making objects, so that car is finally within reach! 

You also get Magical Secrets again for two more spells. Prismatic Spray gives your golden theater some big ass cannons, creating a 60′ cone of light that deals different kinds of damage and effects. You also get Tenser’s Transformation, turning you from a full caster class into a proper fighter once more. You get temporary HP, permanent advantage on weapon attacks, you deal extra force damage, gain proficiency with all weapons as well as strength and constitution saves, and you can attack twice per action. The downsides are you can’t cast spells and after it ends you have to make a constitution save afterwards to prevent exhaustion, but I think it’s appropriate that we finally gave Nero those migraines she’s always complaining about.

Pros:

As usual, nero’s build is pretty adaptable, with a little bit of everything to help out any dedicated role in the party. She has healing, dps spells, utility, social graces, pretty much all skill checks, and also literally the ability to make whatever item she might need in a given situation.

Tenser’s Transformation is meant to turn wizards into melee fighters, and you’re (more or less) a bard. With almost 200 HP thanks to this spell and the ability to make your own armory, you can turn yourself into a terrifying war god practically at will.

Elemental Affinity can be really scary if you game the system right. Max out a casting of scorching ray to deal 20d6+50 damage to a single target. That’s better than a 9th level fireball. It also gives resistance to one of the most common damage types!

Cons:

Fire is one of the most common damage types, so it’s also one of the most common resistances. You have other stuff to fall back on, but it’ll put a crimp in your style if you go up against fire elementals. Or water elementals. Or fiends. Or- you get the picture.

We don’t improve on physical stats until level 14, which means you’ll be stuck with an AC of 15 for a majority of the game, and your sword skills won’t be that useful until very late in the campaign.

The big moment where the build really comes together as Nero is around level 19-20, meaning most players will never actually reach that point. Sorry guys, Nero is a luxury few can afford.

[mystical-flute]

Summer Heat, Boy and Girl Meet (SFWeek Day 2)

Tallahassee AU or Summer Love

AO3 || FFN

@mysteryandnonstopfun

Get a job at Camp Sherwood, her father said. It would be fun, he said.

Emma Nolan was not having fun.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the end of the month without landing in jail for attempted murder. Or, if things continued to get even worse, actual murder.

The source of her ire?

Neal Gold, the counselor of Cabin 4, and his merry band of lost boys who loved to cause trouble to the girls of her cabin, Cabin 8.

The problem had started on the third day of camp. The kids had started settling in and getting used to the routine, and Emma had become more confident in her abilities as a camp leader.

Neal Gold had noticed this, and had planned a spontaneous water fight between their cabins, ambushing the girls on their way back from canoeing. That was fine, lighthearted enough, and it had been a hot, humid day, so the extra water had, admittedly, felt good.

But then it had all gone downhill.

Shaving cream had been next, as the girls had been coming back to their cabins from an arts and crafts lesson. Luckily (in Emma’s opinion), they’d had to leave their crafts to dry, and nothing had been broken.

The third was scaring her campers when they’d had a late-night bonfire. Emma had planned it perfectly - s’mores, campfire songs, the works. And then Neal and his stupid campers had decided to jump out of the bushes just as they’d started telling scary stories. The boys had somehow constructed a monster costume and had jumped out of the bushes. If the kids hadn’t already been aware of Emma’s sour attitude toward Neal Gold, it would have looked like it’d been coordinated by the two counselors.

The worst prank had been when they’d returned to their cabin from a hike through the forest. It had been so nice to learn about the local wildlife and plant life, that for the afternoon, Emma had nearly forgotten about the trouble she’d been having.

Then they’d made it back to their cabin to find all of their belongings tossed onto the roof, including Emma’s mattress.

Despite her complaints to Director Sherwood, nothing had been done. The pranks had been waved off as harmless summer fun, which meant Emma had only one other option: revenge.

She’d started slowly: releasing a harmless, wild garter snake into the cabin (“Goodness, Gold, you guys should learn to shut your cabin door!”), greasing the entryway so many of them slipped on their way in after their movie night.

Then, he’d caught on to what she was doing.

He’d confronted her about the pranks, she had snapped back at him, and somehow (both of them swore up and down they hadn’t done it), a syrup-drenched piece of french toast from that morning’s breakfast had flown through the air and landed on Director Sherwood’s wife, Regina.

It had all gone wrong from there, a full-blown foodfight exploding in a second. It hadn’t lasted long, but Director Sherwood had known immediately who was likely at fault (even though she and Neal absolutely weren’t), and had forced the two of them to clean the mess hall alone, while he took their cabins out to the zipline and rock wall.

“I can’t believe I got stuck cleaning this with you,” Neal scowled, flicking a piece of bacon at her.

“Hey! I didn’t want to do this either, but you’re the one who’s been pranking my kids all month!” she retorted, scraping drying maple syrup off one of the tables with a groan. “I just wanted to be a good counselor and give the kids a fun summer, but you had to go around disrupting us all the time!”

“You think I didn’t want to do the same? Be a good counselor and have a little fun with the kids in my cabin? Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

Emma tossed a dirty rag into a bucket of equally-disgusting water. “Do you get off on scaring little girls? Alice had to sleep with me the night you dressed up as a knockoff Frankenstein, and we had to look for Ella’s lucky blanket for three hours after you put our stuff on the roof!”

Neal went unusually quiet as he processed her words. “Oh. Emma, I’m - ”

“Sure. You’re ‘sorry’, you promise you’re done, but then the minute I walk out of here, you’re going to be plotting something else,” she scoffed.

“No - I mean it,” Neal threw a sponge down and raised his hands in a show of surrender. “I didn’t know I’d scared any of your kids. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Emma scowled. “I did! Director Sherwood didn’t do anything.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Was I supposed to believe you’d listen, after everything that’s happened this month?”

A pause. “Fair point. I’m calling a truce. No more pranks.”

She looked him up and down, trying to find the catch, or to find the lie. She had always been good at it - her father had once told her she was made for detective work.

But she couldn’t find any with Neal, so she sighed, holding out her hand. “Fine. Truce.”

“C’mon, let’s finish this up. If we’re lucky, we might be able to ride the zipline once.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like fun.”

Emma’s shoulders ached, from the amount of force used to scrub the mess hall, but by the time they’d finished, they had missed out on the zipline, and the kids were busy practicing their skits for that night’s talent show. They’d missed the pizza that had been called in for lunch, too.

She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Now what do we do?”

“You hungry?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

Neal smiled and pulled two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of his pocket.

“Neal!”

“What, did they expect we’d eat wild berries and dirt for lunch? Come on, let’s go sit by the lake. We’ll be able to hear when the rehearsal ends.”

He was becoming a terrible influence, but Emma saw no other option as she followed him, plopping down on a rock and nibbling at the crust of her sandwich.

“Where you from, Emma?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s this little town about two hours from here. I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Try me.”

“It’s called Storybrooke.”

Neal choked on the bit of sandwich in his mouth, taking a long drink of water. “No shit? My stepdad is from there.”

She stared at him. What were the odds of that? “What’s his name?”

“Jerkass. Dickwad. Motherfu - oh, sorry, you meant his real name. Killian Jones.”

“Any relation to Adam Jones?”

“Think that’s his twin brother. Why?”

“He’s one of the deputies that work under my dad.”

“He’s a cop?!” Neal laughed, doubling over and wiping a tear from his eye. “Could you send him to NYC? I’m pretty sure my stepdad is some sort of thief. Or worse. Mom keeps getting some really fancy shit and then, wouldn’t you know it, the news comes on with a store being robbed.”

Emma frowned. “Jeez, Neal. You don’t have to live with him, right?”

“Nah. Dad has custody. I live with him most of the time.”

“That’s good at least.”

“Yeah, he and Belle are fine.”

They settled into a comfortable conversation then, and Emma found that underneath all the stupid pranks, Neal Gold wasn’t too bad. And he was, well… kind of cute.

Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“GOLD! NOLAN! I hope you two aren’t slacking off!” Director Sherwood suddenly yelled.

The two jumped up.

“Sorry, Director!” Emma called. “See you later, Gold.”

“See ya, Nolan.”

The rest of the month went smoothly, much to Emma’s relief. The girls had come to enjoy themselves, and she’d made a new friend with Neal.

As she lifted her duffel bag onto her shoulder the last day of camp, she frowned as something hit the ground.

A peanut butter label? How had the label to a jar of peanut butter ended up in her bag?

She carefully unfolded it, feeling her eyes widen as she took in the note scribbled on the back.

Call me if you’re ever in the city. - Neal

[nightingaletrash]

DnD plans are going ahead smoothly. Under the cut to keep one of my players from seeing (yes I'm talking about you Em, no peeking!!)

I'm throwing them into the Deathloop Dungeon. It's finally time. I've tweaked a couple of things because two of my players already knew about Deathloop Dungeon and I don't want them solving everything first try.

Is it extreme to throw a bunch of level 3 characters at an aboleth? Probably but this is Deathloop Dungeon bay-bee dying is part of the challenge.

If you don't know, Deathloop Dungeon operates on a similar principle to dark souls. There are bonfires throughout the dungeon where the party can rest... and these bonfires act as a respawn point. When a character dies, they revive at the last bonfire they rested at. The catch is that they lose any items they picked up since they last rested. And since they need to gather some rare reagents to complete their mission, they need to make it out of the deadly battles that they're facing and to the next bonfire of they don't want to lose the quest item they've gained.

Resting can respawn certain enemies like giant bat's, intellect devourers and troglodytes, but the big enemies like the aboleth need more time to reconstitute themselves. Depending on how much trouble the characters are having, they might return after a certain number of rests or not at all during the adventure. I'm not completely evil.

Ooh there's also shopkeepers. Originally it was going to be a single deep gnome who would ambush them after their first big boss encounter and then hunt them throughout the dungeon, but as two of my players already know about this, I've decided to turn him into four deep dwarves who each operate a shop on a different level of the dungeon and are genuinely helpful and friendly... Until they have the last reagent which is when they begin to hunt the players on the return trip. Or if they try to steal from them. Stealing from one of the dwarves will cause that dwarf to become hostile and begin pursuit early, and the others will be prepared to become hostile at the first sign of treachery.

It's essentially death without consequences, and I promise its all part of a larger plot line and not just to kill my players for the sake of it. I mean it'll be funny the first time it happens, but I do want them to succeed.

[sockablock]

Hi! All the political and ocean concerns in the M9 have me thinking about Astrid and Eodwulf and Sabien. Hmm I know this is a reaching prompt, but something about Caleb and Fjord and people that you used to know? Thanks for all your amazing work, and stay safe during these crazy times! 💜

The beach is mostly trashed by the end, so they spend an extra few days on Rumblecusp to help the villagers clean up.

Which isn’t so bad. The food is good, if...adversarial, and the people now formerly of the cult of Vokodo take to wine-making like, well, former cultists.

Beauregard apparently has opinions about their process, but it’s not like they can get Marrow Oak on a tropical island; and anyway, it hasn’t stopped her from drinking any.

It hasn’t stopped Fjord from pouring a cup either, which he sips as Caleb emerges from the gloom. Behind him, sounds of clean-up and commotion, the curling grey smoke of a bonfire reaching toward pinprick stars above.

“Did they kick you out too?” Fjord dips his head. “I always feel like Marius when they start the heavy lifting.”

“Jester said I was getting in her way,” Caleb sighs, and plops down onto the bench beside him. He’s close enough that Fjord can see the glow in his eyes. “I decided that was a good enough excuse to take a break.”

“Man, at least Yasha was polite about it,” Fjord commiserates. “All she had to do was throw the cart over her head, and I got the message pretty fast.”

Caleb answers with a muted laugh, and a lock of hair slips out from behind his ear. Fjord smiles too, and offers his cup.

“So it’s over now, huh?” he says as Caleb takes a sip. “Time to head back soon.”

“I suppose so,” Caleb nods. “It feels like only days since we arrived on the island.”

“It was a few days ago, wasn’t it? Er...you would know, I mean.”

“Yes. If you want to be technical, we arrived ten days ago.”

“And it’s only been, like, ten hours since the Traveler ‘ascended.’” Fjord makes the appropriate air quotes. “Did you see him at the celebration dinner afterward? I’m pretty sure he ate eighteen cupcakes. Maybe nineteen.”

“I can see where Jester learned it from. Although,” Caleb adds dryly, “they were not bad cupcakes. I am still impressed that Caduceus managed to make icing on a deserted island.”

“Vegan, too.”

“Yes. Will wonders never cease.”

Caleb passes the cup back and Fjord gently swirls the liquid inside, a violent mishmash of pinkish-purple that doesn’t seem to settle either way. 

It’s cool in his hands. He looks up and takes a slow breath.

“Do you...that is...it seems a bit pointless to ask, since, well, it’s not like he’s your god—”

“Hm?”

Fjord considers the torchlight on the water. “Do you think we did the right thing?

Caleb is quiet for a while.  

“I...do,” he says, eventually. “We...helped the Traveler accomplish what he wanted, and we gave the people a new—we gave them something. Perhaps their collective belief will be enough to scrape out a new deity entirely, if the Moonweaver decides to pass.”

“Can gods...do that?”

Caleb shrugs. “They are gods. What would we know?”

The waves whistle as they wash against the shore. Then Fjord says:

“But...what about Jester? I mean, I know he promised he’d still be around, and I’m pretty sure Beau would kill him if he wasn’t, but it still feels like an end, doesn’t it? Like the old days are over. There’s no going back.”

Caleb makes a faint humming sound. “The old days had been over for a while.”

“Right,” says Fjord, “but—”

“I understand.”

In the distance, someone tosses another log onto the bonfire. It’s probably Yasha. Cheers go up.

“A lot of things have been changing. Have changed already, for all of us, I think.”

Fjord looks over. “How do you mean?”

He is surprised when he finds Caleb staring back at him. The firelight glows on his skin.

“You are a prime example, no? Think of what has changed for you.”

“Er...”

“The boat,” Caleb clarifies. “The explosion. The sword, then losing the sword, then...well.” And he gestures to Fjord, going up and going down, landing firmly on his symbol to the Wildmother.

“Oh.” Fjord suddenly feels a bit embarrassed. “Well. Yes. But...I think I was overdue for some changes.”

“You don’t miss them, then?” Caleb asks. “The old days?”

Fjord shuffles a little on the bench. His feet leave a groove in the sand.

“Well,” he admits, “it’s not...not like I don’t. It’s just...they were long ago, now. I’m not sure I’m that person, anymore. I...definitely don’t think I want to be.”

Caleb’s glance shifts to the ground. “Yes,” he says. “That, I understand.”

Fjord passes him the cup again. He takes it.

In quiet sort of voice, he says, “You aren’t. For the record. I mean...I don’t think you’re like how you were...like before.”

Caleb looks at the wine. “You didn’t know me.”

“You’ve...filled in some of the details for us, and I have an active imagination. Besides, I’ve been around you for nearly a year now.”

Caleb drinks. It’s his longest swig yet. When he finishes, he exhales and wipes at his mouth.

“You have, haven’t you?”

He hands the drink back.

“Everyone has,” Fjord says.

It’s Caleb’s turn to watch the tide. The breeze moves his collar. Without his coat on, the wind ruffles his shirt.

“I believe...that is what changed me, in the end. If not for y—for everyone, I would not be who I am today.”

“Yeah. We’re all made by who we stick with, I think. In the past and the present. It’s all a matter of luck.”

“I don’t know if ‘luck’ is the word I would use.”

Fjord snorts. “I don’t know if I would, either.”

“Gods,” Caleb says suddenly, “that was—your situation—”

“It’s okay,” Fjord says. “It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been brainwashed by evil wizards who wanted to...what? Turn me into an assassin? Use me as a weapon? Force me to kill innocents?”

“It was a mixed bag. Maybe all of the above? But at least I had a loving family, first.” 

From anyone else, it could’ve sounded cruel. Fjord has long ago gotten used to the weird way the Mighty Nein choose to express themselves.

“Do you miss those old days?”

Caleb’s smile comes back, but this time it’s a little stale.

“Sometimes...hah. Sometimes I even miss the days that came after. Not everything about Soltryce was so bad, you know. And even the...as you say, the ‘evil wizards,’ they were...at the time, despite it all, I enjoyed it.”

“At the time.”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

The smile flickers. “A mixed bag.”

Fjord lets the sickly sweet wine dance on his tongue. 

“I have a feeling I know what you mean. I miss...I miss some parts, too. I miss some people, actually, or...I miss the way I used to know them.”

When Caleb is quiet, Fjord finds himself pressing on. He’s not sure if he even means to.

“I hated the orphanage,” he whispers. “I hated it. I hated everything about it, which just made...it just made...” he blinks, “it made me all the more grateful at least Sabian was on my side. I...I used to think he always would be. I always thought it would be me and him against the world, and then...then...gods, I’m sorry—”

“No,” Caleb shakes his head. “Don’t be. He was important to you.”

“Of course he was.” Fjord huffs. “He used to be my whole world. We did everything together. We even signed up together. And then...”

Caleb’s voice is hesitant, but he still asks, “What happened?”

Fjord laughs. “My world got bigger. I...once I met Vandren, got used to sailing, I...I don’t know. It could be selfish, but sometimes I wonder if Sabian resented the fact that he wasn’t the only person in my life anymore. Though I doubt my feelings are important enough for them to be the reason why he betrayed us.”

He all but spits the words out. It’s only then that that he realizes he’s been crying into the mug.

"Gods, I’m—”

He feels Caleb touch his shoulder. It’s still hesitant, but he does.

“It’s alright.”

“...and I’ve ruined the wine.”

“We can always get more.”

A pause. 

“I...the worst part is not knowing. Not knowing, and...and not being able to understand. Why. Why did it happen? Was it always my fault? Was...was it always like that, and was I too blind to see? What if it was never even what I thought it was?”

“...yes.”

Fjord looks up.

“Did you ever think of talking to them again? Not...gods, not Tr...you know, him, but...maybe that classmate—”

Caleb sucks in a breath. Again, “Yes.”

“Did it...help?”

He lets go. “Er...to be honest? No.” Then he catches Fjord’s expression, tacks on hastily, “Er, in your situation, it could—”    

Fjord bites into his laugh. “It had better. I’m paying good money to find him, actually.”

Caleb doesn’t ask for more details, which isn’t totally surprising. Apparently they’d had similar ideas anyway.

The tension drains away slowly, and Fjord finds it in himself to ask:

“Was she different?”

Caleb shrugs. “In many ways...yes and no. She had changed, but those changes had been in her always. I could see where they came from. I could see why they happened.”

“She was unlucky,” Fjord tries. “The people around her...”

“Yes. She never got the chance I did.”

“No,” Fjord nods. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t feel entitled to Caleb’s expression at that. He doesn’t look, instead stares at the water and counts the seconds as the waves skim by.

“Do you think that Sabian—”

“No.”

“Right.” He hears Caleb breathe out. “Probably not. If it, er, if it counts for anything, though, I am of the mind that...though I did not know you before, you...you are a good person now. Our past...experiences to the contrary, you are a person that I would want to be, Fjord.”

Fjord nearly spills his cup into the sand.

“You—what?”

Caleb, to his shock and delight, looks offended. His face reddens to match his hair.

“I just—well—yes,” Caleb gets out, “I just mean...I think you are a good person. You cannot—that cannot be so hard to believe, unless—I told you, didn’t I? That I forgive you for the sword incident—”

Fjord decides to come to his rescue. He puts the cup down and waves his hand. “Right, right, you did, you did.”

“In case you had forgotten. Your memory is...”

Fjord raises an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.” Caleb amends hastily. “My point is, if you are...worried about your past, and the people who have...who have shaped you to who you are, I just want you to know that I...the you that you are now, Fjord, is an admirable person.”

A pause. Then:

“Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb leans back on the bench. “Of course.”

They sit there in the silence for a little longer, watching the moon pull slowly on the tide, tracing the shape of clouds on the night sky.

“I—yeurk. Oh, that’s bad.”

“Hm?”

“The wine, I definitely ruined it. I, ah, think we might need a new glass.”

A laugh. 

“Come on. Let’s go get one, then.”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 6 - 7

A continuation of Leo and Regulus’ attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: Food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

[This is currently unedited, and I'm not that happy with it, but also my writing mojo has decided it is vacay time so it is what is it]

6. Go to camp! You’ll make friends for life.

“Le! Did you order something?” Finn called, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen carrying a large box.

“Yeah, it’s the t-shirts,” Leo nodded, scraping the onions he’d just chopped into the pot. “Put it on the island for me please, babe.”

Finn looked down at the box, making a show of testing its weight before he looked back at Leo with wide eyes, “This seems like...a lot.”

After adjusting the temperature on the stovetop slightly, Leo washed his hands and made to inspect the delivery. “Err, yeah. Potts got wind of the plan and got all excited. Half the team are coming now,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Of course that happened,” Finn threw his head back with a laugh. “You might as well make it a thing.”

“A thing?” Leo repeated, throwing Finn a bemused look.

“Uhh huh,” Finn nodded.

“I’m gonna need more, babe,” Leo said, lifting one of the shirts out of the box and running the material through his fingers, humming a note of approval.

“More shirts? There’s like 50 here,” Finn frowned.

“No, love,” Leo laughed, shaking his head “More on what a ‘thing’ is.”

“Ohh, got you,” Finn chuckled, leaning against the counter. “I just meant, if half the team is coming anyway, you might as well invite the other half. Get the kids involved. You know, a thing.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Leo cocked his head.

“Well, I did go to Harvard,” Finn shrugged, rooting around in the fruit bowl to find a suitable pear. One that wasn't too big because Finn got bored of flavours quickly and could never finish them. One that wasn't too soft, because he hated the sticky mess on his hands. In the early days of their relationship, Leo had been excited for the adventures that were going to come with his boyfriends, but he hadn't been prepared for how much the little nuggets of information he would discover about them would mean to him. The satisfied smile that appeared on his Finn’s face as he procured the perfect one was infectious.

“Such big brain energy and yet he still can’t load a dishwasher,” Leo retorted, motioning to the stack of crockery that had been abandoned on the counter.

***

“I have no idea why I put up with you,” Regulus scowled, covering his eyes with his hands. “Okay, I promise I can’t see.”

“Because I’m your best friend, obviously,” Leo replied, making a stupid face to ensure that Regulus was, in fact, telling the truth, and began to lead him towards the back door.

“Obviously,” Regulus drawled. “Do I get a choice in this best friend business?”

“Well, you can try and resist it if you want, but I am incredibly loveable and inevitably you will have to succumb to my charm so you might as well just deal with it,” Leo said.

Regulus gave a resigned sigh, “I suppose as best friends go you aren’t too bad.”

Leo laughed, punching Regulus lightly in the shoulder before telling him to watch out for the step up into the back yard.

“I hope you know that if I break my neck, you will be paying for -” Regulus started.

“Wegggie!!” Harry shouted through a mouthful of graham crackers that James had been trying to buy his silence with.

“Is that?” Regulus pulled his hands from his face, his eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. Leo had to admit he may have gone a little overboard with the execution of the summer camp. What had started off as a few classic summer camp activities had turned into a carefully planned extravaganza. There was a climbing wall and he’d hired an events team that taught archery. Between the games of dodgeball and capture the flag, there would be time for tye-dying, friendship bracelet making, water balloons, tug of war and much more. Of course he hadn’t skimped on the food either: burgers, pizza, vegetable sticks, taco salad and hot dogs; there was a long buffet table laden with an endless supply.

Regulus pulled Leo back inside, tugging him further into the kitchen so that the crowd of Lion’s players and their families couldn’t see them. “Leo, this is too much.”

Leo looked at Regulus trying to read his friend, but the other boy was infuriatingly closed off. “Look, if you really don’t want this, I’ll go and tell everybody to enjoy themselves and we can get out of here.”

Regulus huffed out a breath, “It’s not that I don’t want to...it’s...it’s weird everybody being here. They are obviously just here because you asked them and I feel like an add on.”

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” Leo held up a hand. “You practically live at Kris’ house the amount of time you spend there with Avie. Celeste loves you like a seventh? eighth? child...honestly, I’ve lost track of how many children they’ve adopted at this point. You and Olli…”

“Alright, alright,” Regulus interrupted, “I get your point.” He cocked his head slightly, “Huh, I guess I didn’t realise how much I’ve settled here.”

“You need a second to process that or are you ready to go have some fun, because I think Harry might eat all the s’more supplies if we wait much longer.”

***

Leo leaned into Logan’s shoulder, smiling as he watched his boyfriend show Katie how to toast her s’more in the bonfire that crackled in front of them. He was admiring the softness of the French leaving Logan’s mouth, when Regulus plopped himself onto the large log they were sitting on, a sleeping Aveline clinging to him.

“Hey, Reggie,” Leo greeted, turning his soft smile to his friend. “You alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to say thank you,” Regulus nodded, shifting Aveline into a more comfortable position. Leo noticed that Regulus had added another 3 new friendship bracelets to his haul since he had last got a moment to catch up with him. “For all this. This day has been amazing. All of it. I’m not sure if summer camp would have been my thing really, but I never really got to do fun family garden parties either and this has been incredible. ”

Any reply that Leo was about to make was disturbed, by Aleandra dumping a water balloon over Marc’s head right in front of them, their loud screams causing Aveline to wake with a cry.

7.Decorate your room! Paint the walls, buy new bedding and pick some new accessories! Make it your space.

"Well," Leo set a pile of magazines on the bed with a soft thud. It was a little old-school, but he was adamant that it was easier to come up with a complete picture this way. "What do you like? You don't have to know exactly, but we can't go to Ikea without any idea." He let out a soft snort at the unintentional rhyme.

Regulus looked up at him, wide eyed, as if he'd just asked him to supply the solution for world peace. "I don't know," he shrugged, toying with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You must have some thoughts."

"I don't know," Regulus snapped. "I've never had to make these decisions before. There was no point liking anything, because our parents would do what they wanted either way." He spat the words, and despite how it made Leo feel he knew the anger was a sign of some sort of progress. Not even a few months ago, his friend had spoken about his childhood like it was just a different form of normal.

"I'm sorry," Leo apologised, climbing onto the bed next to Regulus.

"It's not your fault, is it," Regulus shrugged, tucking his knees to his chest.

"I shouldn't have pushed you for an answer," Leo clarified, moving the magazines out the way and dragging his laptop from the bedside table. “Look, how about we go through Pinterest and you can pick some pins you vibe with. I’m sure we’ll find a trend.”

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed, shuffling closer to Leo. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“What the hell, there’s more,” Regulus said in awe as they rounded another corner to be confronted by rows of rattan baskets.

“I think we’re nearly at the end.” Leo looked up from the map he was trying to follow, almost stumbling over the cart when Regulus came to a sudden halt.

“These are nice,” Regulus mused, picking up a walnut coloured weaved basket. “My towels will look nice in these.”

“I’m sure they would,” Leo chuckled. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by how quickly Regulus had gained an affinity for interior design considering how he had taken to honing his clothing style with such ease.

“Oh! But these are nice too.” Regulus turned to show Leo another basket, that was identical in every way except for being perhaps a shade lighter.

Leo groaned. They had been in the store for over 3 hours and the cart was overflowing. His friend was adamant he was going to pay his own way and considering the short amount of time he had played for Slytherin along with the legal fees to end his contract early, the man was having to learn to budget to be able to afford college. Leo had suggested that doing a couple of interviews would leave him with a fair buffer, but Regulus had wanted to put as much space between hockey and his new life as possible. Leo was supportive, but Regulus seemed to be having trouble getting out the habit of buying everything he wanted.

“Right, pick one and then close your eyes. We need to get out of here.”

***

“Up a little on the left,” Leo instructed, shaking his head as Regulus lifted the left side of the photo frame considerably. “No, not that much.”

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not straight!”

“Neither are you and you don’t see us complaining,” Regulus huffed as he adjusted the frame again.

“You’re just jealous,” Leo threw one of Regulus’ new cushions across the room, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

“Eww,” Regulus deadpanned. “And please do not throw my things,” he glared, hugging the cushion to his chest.

Leo was about to make a comment back, but he was interrupted by Sirius clearing his throat in the doorway.

“Got you a present,” Sirius said, holding out a large bag.

“Sirius.” Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his face set into a disapproving stare. “I told you -”

“Think of it as an early birthday present,” Sirius interrupted.

“My birthday is not for another 4 months.”

“Just take it. I promise I’ll let you do this the way you want, but you’ve got to let me buy you things every now and then too. That’s what big brothers do.”

Regulus sighed, crossing the room to take the bag from Sirius. “Thanks,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting despite his best efforts. The smile spread further as he laid the mustard coloured herringbone throw he’d been salivating over in the small boutique they’d visited a few days prior.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius nodded. “Looks good in here, by the way. We’ll have to find you an apartment in New York that will be big enough to fit it all in.” he commented, walking away as he finished his sentence.

“I’m paying for the apartment!” Regulus called after him. Leo barked a laugh as Regulus ranted about stubborn humans on NHL wages. Regulus poked a finger at him. “You can be quiet. I know this was your doing.”

[extratragic]

duchess

pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

warning: hints at sex, swearing, Kelce being a protective brother.

word count: 2266

request: Could you do a jj x kelces! Sister 👉🏽👈🏽🤧✌🏽❤️

author: I’m not gonna lie to y’all. I kinda love kelce just bc he’s barely there (yes I am ignoring the fights at this moment) and bc I love Deion

summary: It wasn’t easy becoming friends with the Pogues considering Kelce is your older brother, but you managed to do that and wiggle your way into one boy's heart.

Your brother wasn’t really a bad guy. Sure, he was a douche bag with his friends, but he was always different with you. It was a good thing, too, because everyone knew how bad Rafe and Sarah’s relationship was, but you had a great brother. He cared about you, protected you, took care of you when your parents didn’t bother. 

Kelce had a good heart but he didn’t have good friends.

He did hate Pogues, though. John B and JJ were the two people that could get under his skin with one word. It kind of sucked when all you wanted to do was be friends with them and they hated you because of your brother. 

You got along with Kie and Pope. When Kie and Sarah became enemies, you were stuck in the middle of them. You told them both that you weren’t going to pick sides, so they dealt with that and you hung out with them separately. 

That’s how you officially met the other three boys. 

It was refreshing to be around people that didn’t care about how your hair looked or what outfit you had on. Pope warmed up to you quickly when he saw how you acted around Kie. He thought you were sweet and he was happy to let you hang out with the group. John B was iffy about you. He didn’t trust Kelce or any Kooks, really, so he kept you at arm's length and only spoke to you when Kie was around. 

JJ was an entirely different story. The only Kook he would ever trust was Kiara Carrera, not you. You were associated with the Kook royalty, and that was the worst of them all. You, Kie, and Pope all reminded him that Kie was once best friends with Sarah, but he ignored that fact. Kie wasn’t related to one of them by blood. You were. 

It took months for JJ to warm up to you. You went to different schools, so you met with the four Pogues almost every day after you did your homework. JJ hated it for the first two months, and then he acted like he hated it for the three months after that. He didn’t know what changed after that second month, but he started to enjoy having you around. 

Maybe it was the day that John B let you drive the HMS Pogue and you looked like a kid in a candy store. 

Or it could’ve been the time that you were going over Pope’s scholarship essay and he noticed how you bit the tip of your tongue when you were really concentrating.

It could’ve been the day that you and Kie had a fashion show of the clothes from your most recent shopping spree and how the majority of the things you bought were things Pogues would wear and Kooks wouldn’t be caught dead in. Or the way that your yellow sundress fell perfectly over your figure. 

Either way, JJ didn’t like that he had a crush on a girl that was siblings with a guy that enjoyed beating on him. 

But damn did he want to admit it to you the day that you showed up to a kegger in ripped shorts and a little bikini top. The feelings washed away when he saw Kelce, Rafe, and Topper behind you. 

Kelce wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you found comfort in his hold. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but being around Rafe at a party always made you uncomfortable. He only had one drink so far, but he was starting to get touchy. 

“I’m gonna go find my friends,” you told Kelce. 

“The Pogue ones?” Topper asked in disgust. 

“Yeah, Top. It’s not like it’s any of your business, though,” you snapped. 

Kelce nodded and pushed you away before you started an argument with the blonde. You found JJ and John B at the keg and smiled widely, standing in front of them. 

“Four cups, Pogues,” you told them.

“Wow, the duchess getting drinks for other people?” John B mocked. 

“Wouldn’t you rather I get the drinks for the ass holes than you seeing them?” you asked, cocking one eyebrow. 

John B laughed and nodded, filling the plastic cups.

“I’ll help you,” JJ offered. 

“Not a good idea, J. I’ll be right back, don’t worry,” you said, winking at him. 

He rolled his eyes and you managed to grab all four cups, heading towards the three boys you left behind. You handed three of the cups to Kelce and grabbed his wrist before he walked away. 

“Tell the ass holes that there will not be a fight tonight. There is no reason for a fight, and I will personally beat their asses if they make one,” you told him.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell them to do the same, then,” he grumbled. 

“I will. I love you, Kelce,” you said. 

“Love you too,” he said quietly. 

You grinned and shook your head, walking away from your brother again and towards the only Pogues willing to befriend you. They weren’t at the keg anymore, though. The two boys were now with Kie and Pope by one of the small bonfires. 

“Hello, my favorite people,” you said, putting your elbows on JJ and John B’s shoulders. 

It was actually pretty hard to do considering they’re taller, but you somehow managed. 

“Hello, my favorite Kook,” Pope responded. 

“So, I made Kelce promise to make sure the hotheads don’t start any fights. Sarah should be here to keep Topper on a leash soon. But I promised to tell you two to not start any fights. And before you argue with me, I said start, not finish. But if you do finish a fight, please don’t drown anyone,” you suggested.

Kie scrunched her nose at the mention of Sarah, but she laughed at your last sentence. 

“What are you gonna do if we start one, duchess?” JJ asked. 

You moved your elbows off of the two boys' shoulders and crossed your arms over your chest. You didn’t miss the way JJ’s eyes flickered down to your cleavage. 

“Throw you in my dungeon,” you replied smoothly. 

He raised his eyebrows at you and you smiled slyly, winking at him. 

At some point, your relationship with JJ went from avoidance and rude comments to a lot of sexual attraction on your side. You had been flirting with JJ for at least a month now, and each of the Pogues could feel the tension between you two. JJ was a natural flirt, so the two of you went back and forth until someone else forced themselves into the conversation before the two of you jumped on each other on the boat. 

None of them were gonna jump in tonight. 

“Is it a nice dungeon?” JJ asked.

“I think it’s a pretty great dungeon. You’d enjoy it,” you told him.

“How long do I have to stay?” He continued. 

“As long as you want to,” you grinned. 

He smirked and shook his head, taking a drink from his cup. You held your eye contact with him until a redhead walked up to the group and pressed her chest against JJ’s arm. 

You rolled your eyes and turned towards Kie, seeing her smirking at you. 

“What?” You asked. 

She shrugged and you sighed, chugging the gross beer in your cup. You were gonna need alcohol to get through all of the girls throwing themselves at JJ. It was sad to watch, honestly. You didn’t have a problem with girls wanting to have sex, but some of them just looked so desperate that it hurt to watch. 

There was one party where you and Kie counted twenty girls that asked JJ for sex, and fourteen of those girls were almost begging him. You applauded the girls that were subtle and kept the blonde on his toes. 

“Come on, let’s get another,” Kie said, nodding her head in the direction of the keg. 

You nodded and followed her lead, happily letting her fill your cup up again. 

“So when are you and JJ gonna fuck?” She asked. 

“Kie, what the fuck?” You asked. 

“What? I’m asking a simple question,” she shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and looked at JJ, seeing the redhead gone now. A satisfied smile fell onto your lips and you looked at Kie again. 

“Dunno. He might just get lucky tonight if he answers this question correctly,” you smirked. 

She followed you over to the blonde and stood between Pope and John B as you wrapped your hand around JJ’s bicep. He looked down at you and you smiled sweetly. 

“Getting your dick wet tonight?” You asked bluntly. 

Pope and John B choked on their drinks and Kie laughed loudly. JJ chuckled and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Only if you’re the one in bed with me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes closed and you sighed at the sound of your brother's voice. When you opened your eyes and turned around. Kelce was standing behind the two of you, fuming. 

“What the fuck did he just say?” He spat.

“It was a joke, Kelce. Not something to get mad about,” you sighed.

Your brother took a step closer to JJ and you quickly stood between them. 

“Don’t start. He didn’t do anything wrong. I brought it up. I started it. You don’t get to be a dick for no reason,” you snapped. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, y/n? He just said he’s gonna sleep with you!” He exclaimed. 

“Actually, I said I would sleep with her, you know, if she wants,” JJ said, seemingly taunting Kelce.

You were quick to turn your head and glare at him. It’s like he was asking for a fight. 

“John B, will you take him somewhere else, please?” You asked. 

John B nodded and grabbed JJ’s shoulders, making him walk away from you and your brother. Once you were sure that JJ was gone, you turned your head so you were looking at Kelce again. 

“Dude, I’m fine. JJ makes those jokes all the time. He’d never do anything to me without my consent. He’s a good guy with a really bad mouth and temper, like you,” you said, trying to calm Kelce down.

“I don’t like him,” he stated simply.

“I know, but I do. You could grow to like him,” you shrugged.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around at the group of people. You knew that he was trying to calm himself while around you. Whenever he was angry or frustrated, he had to do something with his hands and he wouldn’t look at you if you were part of the reason why he was frustrated. 

“I was coming to tell you that we’re leaving,” he told you after a few more moments. 

“Are you okay with me staying? I haven’t drunk that much and if I do, they’ll take care of me,” you asked. 

“I guess. Just please don’t sleep with JJ,” he groaned.

You laughed lightly and nodded, wrapping your arms around Kelce’s neck. 

“I’ll be sure to try, big brother. Go have fun and don’t worry about me. I’ll be home tomorrow,” you told him.

He hummed and wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you just a bit. 

“Be safe. Call me if you need me,” he said as he let go. 

“Okay, dad,” you teased. 

He started walking backward, pointing his finger at you. 

“Seriously. And put a shirt on,” he told you. 

You mock saluted him and he smiled before turning around and walking over to Rafe, Topper, and Sarah. You waved at Sarah and she blew you a kiss before leaving with the boys. 

John B took JJ to one of the bonfires around the beach and you groaned when you saw a girl draped over JJ. Pope was the first to see you making your way over to them and laughed at your reaction. He said something to JJ and the blonde turned around, smiling at you.

You raised your eyebrows and put your hand on your shoulder, acting like you were picking something up and moving it away from your body to drop it. 

His smile widened and he turned to the Touron, telling her something. She quickly stood up and walked off without an argument and you sighed happily, sitting beside JJ when you reached the group.

“What’d you tell her to make her leave so quickly?” You asked.

“That I have herpes,” he shrugged. 

You laughed lightly and laid your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, resting his hand on the side of your ass, his fingertips tapping the skin below the hem of your shorts.

“So, am I getting my dick wet tonight?” He whispered, grinning against your ear. 

You turned to face him, lips brushing his. 

“If you’re lucky,” you said quietly.

He pressed his lips against yours and you tangled your fingers in his hair, gripping his arm with your free hand. JJ’s other hand grabbed your chin, keeping your lips pressed to his as he deepened the kiss. 

Heat shot through your body and you moaned quietly, making JJ grin smugly. 

“Yeah, okay, you’re lucky,” you grinned. 

He laughed lightly and kissed you softly. 

“I knew you liked me,” he teased. 

“Maybe you’re not so lucky,” you said, pushing him away. 

JJ laughed and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You happily snuggled into his arms while your friends gagged and made fun of you two.