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ultramagicalternate · 1 year

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ULTRAMagic Prelude Chapter 5

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Master Post

“I think I got it…” Blood-Wraith stated as he organized a pile of rocks into a tidy formation.

Kresimira nodded. “Alright, show me what you have come up with.”

Blood-Wraith held up his right hand above the rocks. It took a second, but a bolt of energy emanated from his palm and struck the pile. This caused the rocks to light up and shine brightly. A moment later they had formed into a 12 inch sculpture of him. At this point it was the end of the second week of tutoring. Kresimira had been hoping for this outcome. The sculpture was not perfect, but it proved that there was definitive progress,

“Well done, Blood-Wraith. Well done” Kresimira congratulated with a calm applause.

“...but I didn’t get all the details down.”

Kresimira took the sculpture and put it on her desk. “Don’t worry sweetie, it’s fine. It’s borderline impossible to get every detail perfect.”

“You really should go for good enough rather than perfection,” Dragoslava added. “What that exact standard is I couldn’t tell you ‘cause it’s always changing”

“But why not go for perfection?”

“You see, Blood-Wraith; The more you do, the more time and effort is required,” Kresimira answered. She then went and retrieved two rocks from the closet, setting them down on the table. She then transmuted one into a rather simple, stone knife. “Let’s say you’re in a pickle and need something to defend yourself with, like this knife. Clean, simple, and an easy earth transmutation. It’s not pretty, but it gets the job done.” Setting the knife aside, she repeated the process on the other rock. This took longer and produced a more ornate and decorative knife. “Here we have a more fancy knife. See the issue with it?”

Blood-Wraith studied the new knife for a second. “I don’t think that would hold up after repeated usage. It looks very fragile. The strange markings do make it look fearsome, however.”

With a flick of the wrist, Kresimira snapped the knife in two. “Exactly. We sacrificed quality for what we thought would be a better outcome. It’s akin to quantity over quality. Ultimately you shouldn’t worry about how something looks as long as it works. When you hyperfixate, you lose track of your goal.”

“I see… I still wanted to do better on the details though.”

Dragoslava laughed. “Blood, chill. It’s not that big of a deal…” And then the statue broke in half.

“Oh…” Blood-Wraith looked defeated.

“Hey, hey…” Kresimira gave him a pat on the back. “It’s fine, my pupil. This stuff takes time and practice” she reassured him. “Focus on the essentials, not the fine details.”

Blood-Wraith then turned to the clock, seeing that it was 4 PM again. “Aw shoot…”

“Alright, we’re going to get some ice cream,” Dragoslava proclaimed as she dragged her brother out of the classroom.

After bugging Leif to take them down to the city, Dragoslava guided the group to an ice cream parlor, long since abandoned. It was somewhat haunting to see what should have been a populated building completely empty. Kresimira used to bring her sister to the parlor whenever she could, back when they were younger. Naturally the two were greeted by dust and cobwebs everywhere. With the flip of a breaker, the restaurant sprung back to life. Signs and neon lights lit up and upbeat rock music began playing through the building's speakers. It was quite the nostalgia trip for Dragoslava.

“Pretty groovy, ey? Me and my big sis loved coming here on fridays.”

“Should we be here right now? This doesn’t feel right…” Blood-Wraith was a tad worried.

“It’s fine as long as we don’t break anything. Now where was the soft serve machine… ah!”

Blood-Wraith watched his sister fiddle with the dull, silver machine. “What’s soft serve?”

“The best type of ice cream, that’s what” she replied with a chuckle.

After some fiddling and a trip to the freezer, Dragoslava got to work preparing some cones. It was fascinating to see her twirl her wrist, creating an excellent spiral of ice cream. Once Blood-Wraith’s cone was decorated with chocolate sprinkles and a wafer, he sat down at the front counter. The chocolate ice cream was very good, the flavor delighting his senses. Dragoslava soon joined him with her own cone. She had the same style, but with vanilla as her choice of flavor.

“The owner of this place makes use of a spell that keeps the food fresh until it’s served. Once it’s in the customer’s hands, it resumes aging. And don’t worry, I put some money in the register.”

Blood-Wraith looked around, taking in the atmosphere. “It’d be nice to have people here… would they like me?”

“Blood, they’d adore you. Heck, You’d probably get a cone on the house as a welcome gift. My people are pretty welcoming… normally” Dragoslava remarked.

“Normally assuming there isn’t a primordial to go after?”

Dragoslava nodded. “...or there isn’t a thug doing thug things nearby. And cults. They’re not welcome either.”

“So do I eat the cone? It smells edible.” Blood-Wraith was not sure what to do given that this was a new food experience for him.

“Mm-hm, that’s a waffle cone. It’s part of the fun” Dragoslava replied. She then took a big chomp out of hers.

Once the two had finished up, Dragoslava got to work cleaning up and shutting down the restaurant. Afterwards, the two would go on to do a little exploring. There were some sights that Blood-Wraith had to see. First was the Metal Fountain, which used magic to have flowing liquid metal (there were considerations for switching to water due to maintenance issues). City hall was a grand building, being an apex of the city’s architecture. The Statue of Erikson the Unstoppable stood tall in one of the city’s squares. He was the first of Dragoslava’s people to find the empty Iron City. He also happened to be Dragoslava’s ancestor. And finally there was The Museum of Wonders and Feats. It displayed relics from all societies that had lived in the city.

“This city is incredible, sister,” Blood-Wraith complimented. He was amazed by all of the sights.

“Yup. I missed this place… hm, odd. No sign of Corentin yet…”

“Oh, Sister? It just crossed my mind that we haven’t done any exploring recently” Blood-Wraith pointed out. “Do we need more class time?”

“No, no… I’ve just been a bit stumped on where to go next…”

Leif then appeared above the two. “Perhaps I can help with that? I have a friend up in the far north who would be very interested in talking with you two.”

“...Um, okay then. If you think it’ll be interesting. Where should we start heading towards?” Dragoslava asked, still a bit uncertain.

“It would be best for me to take you there, personally. I also need to go check up on my friend beforehand.”

“Fair enough I suppose. How long do you think you’ll be?” Dragoslava jotted down some notes.

“Two, three days max. Here, let me take you back up to the tower. Then I’ll start on my round trip.”

The two hopped on Leif’s back and were flown back up. He then took off with a mighty flap of his wings and eventually vanished into the horizon. It was a very curious happening that had captured Dragoslava’s curiosity. Returning to her office, the duo passed by something unexpected. The Twilight Library (on the way to the office) was occupied by a stranger. This person was a tall woman, looking through several books. She had long, silver hair and wore dark armor with a wide-brimmed hat. Dragoslava gestured for Blood-Wraith to follow her.

“Greetings, stranger. What’s the occasion?”

The tall woman was startled. “Oh, Heavens! My apologies, I didn’t realize this tower was occupied…”

“It’s alright. We just want to know what’s up… you’re not up to something sneaky, are you?” Dragoslava inquired.

“Oh no, absolutely not. I was just looking for some books on Alchemy as my studies have sort of dead-ended at the moment.”

Dragoslava nodded in hesitant approval. “Fair enough. I’m Dragoslava Raynot and this is my brother, Blood-Wraith.”

“Pari, Valentina Pari. Are you two Alchemists by the way?”

“Yes,” Blood-Wraith answered. “...but I’m fairly new to this stuff.”

“How wonderful. Alchemy truly is an amazing science. Is there anything you're having trouble with, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s doing alright, he just needs to not focus on putting so much into his transmutations” Dragoslava answered.

Valentina inspected Blood-Wraith for a moment. Truly a fascinating entity. “I see. You should be prioritizing function over form. Also consider this Blood-Wraith: If you set your mind to it, you can make anything that you can dream up. All you need is a little imagination as Prima Materia has unlimited potential. One of the hallmarks of an accomplished alchemist is striking a perfect balance between form and function, a union of opposites if you will.”

“So uh, yeah… YOU WANT TO BE HIS TEACHER? Alongside my big sis? Because that is some well thought out alchemical insight” Dragoslava stated bluntly.

Valentina was surprised by this. “Oh my. Well I’d love to, but I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment, unfortunately.”

“That’s fine,” Blood-Wraith replied. “Your personal business comes before mine… but do you have any notes I can read?” He was very interested in Valentina’s knowledge.

“Well… I do have a collection of personal notes I could organize into a book for you, since you're so eager. It may take a little bit, but I can have it for you in a week. Would that be acceptable?” Valentina proposed.

Blood-Wraith happily nodded. “Sure! We’re going to be going on an adventure soon, so I wouldn’t be ready for it right now. Also can you make it… make the cover black, purple, and gold?”

Valentina laughed. “My my, that’ll be quite the fancy book now. I’ll see what I can cook up.” She then looked up at the time. “Well shoot, look at how late it is… may I borrow these books? Just for a spell?”

Dragoslava took the indicated books over to an odd console and chute. “Sure, just give me one second…” The console beeped and hummed, then a package appeared in the chute. “Here you go, some of our extra copies. Don’t worry, they’ll guide you back here when you’re done.”

“Thank you very much!” Valentina took the heavy package and began to leave. “Farewell for now. I’ll definitely be back in the future, hopefully with some free time. Best of luck to both of you.”

“You too, safe travels” Dragoslava called out as Valentina vanished. “I like her.”

“Yeah, she seems very nice…” Blood-Wraith’s stomach growled. “I’m hungry.”

Dragoslava nodded. “Well it is dinner time after all.”

At the dining hall, Desislav was getting ready to serve a very delicious dinner. “There you are! I was wondering where you two were” the satyr exclaimed. He then sat them down.

“So Desislav, I think we may have met someone from your timeline” Dragoslava brought up.

“Really? Who was it?”

“She was in the Twilight Library, wanting to borrow some of our books. She said her name was Valentina Pari…”

Desislav thought for a second, then it hit him. “Oh…yeah, I’ve definitely heard of her.”

“She’s making me an Alchemy book too” Blood-Wraith added in.

“Really now?” Kresimira asked. “Well, you two will have to let me know next time she shows up.”

Dragoslava shoveled some food into her mouth. “Sure. Can do, sis.”

“Oh, where’s Leif? I haven’t seen him yet today…” Desislav wondered.

“He’ll be back in a couple of days,” Dragoslava answered. “He went ahead to scout out our next location.”

Next: Chapter 6

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #magic #sciencefictionfantasy #sciencefiction #story #literature

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stories-by-rie · 3 years

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Chapter 5 - Heart of Silver

In the present, still in the dead granny’s house, Evelyn and Ariel search the cellar for clues and slowly start to understand the curse better.

words: 2614 || masterlist

The air in the cellar was strangely musky. From all the dust and cobwebs, it was clear that the old granny hadn’t gone down into the cellar for any longer than she had avoided going upstairs. It was hard to breathe, probably due to mold growing on the walls, mold they couldn’t see because none of the lamps were working.

“This feels like a deliberate attack on my person. That old lady knew I was going to end up here with the uneasiness that creeps over me in the darkness. Disgusting.” Ariel had flipped their phone open but it was only a little light to help them see. Evelyn had turned on the flash-light on her phone, but the battery icon was blinking red already, so it was only of little help for the time being.

No new notifications.

With the sparse light of their phones, even combined, it was hard to make anything out in the cramped place. Whatever use the four rooms must have had, they all seemed to be storerooms now. It was impossible to make out every single detail, but the amount of Easter rabbit decorations was concerning, to say the least.

“Maybe she was really into bunnies. I, personally, would never judge anyone for what they collect.” Ariel put their hand down on a pink rabbit with fake feathers on its neck.

“As you shouldn’t,” Evelyn replied at the thought of the amount of- well, everything in their flat.

It wasn’t just tasteless holiday decoration, though. From the little that was recognizable, they could find dysfunctional vacuum cleaners, stacks of old garden magazines and old workout gear.

“Was that granny ripped?” Ariel asked at the sight of an old ergometer.

“She was a granny!” Evelyn said and shook her head, both as an answer and as a general reaction to Ariel.

“Old people can work-out too, Evelyn! Oh, look! A cursed mirror!” they exclaimed and jumped into a corner where a big wall mirror hung. Evelyn could hardly follow their words, least of all their movements in the dark space.

So she just reacted and yelled, “Don’t touch it!” -- idiotically, of course. Because Ariel was a curse broker and knew not to touch cursed objects, and also they weren’t a child and Evelyn not their mother. For some reason, despite those three facts, Ariel still touched it.

“No worries, no worries. This one only activates on full moons. You can see it on the symbol in the corner, see?” They held their phone so that Evelyn could just make out some lines that had to be the symbol Ariel had spoken about. She didn’t understand them, it was not her forte after all, and she was too pumped on stress and anxiety to really care.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m a bit on edge and-”

“No need to apologize. Thank you, for looking out for me,” Ariel replied with their soft voice that felt so much more stern than any other. Evelyn couldn’t help but believe them. She smiled, forced but in a way that would have been honest, had her emotional state allowed her as much.

Ariel’s eyes widened. First horror, then understanding, and then excitement ran over their face, leaving them with a crooked grin.

“What-” As Evelyn turned around, the white light of her flash-light hit a high figure, a dusty blanket covering it completely. The fabric’s folds gave the hint of a human statue, enough to let Evelyn’s blood run cold. For some reason, she didn’t have to uncover it to know what was beneath it. In the end, it was Ariel who clenched their fist around a drape, hesitating despite their obvious curiosity. With a flick of their hand, the fabric slid off the statue, their lights letting the heavy dust shimmer in the darkness; then reflecting off the silver boy in front of them.

In contrast to the pictures Evelyn had seen in Ariel’s books, this boy looked nearly calm. Maybe there was some sadness in his eyes that could not compare with the smile on his lips. He looked nearly peaceful.

“That would explain why she seemed so invested in curses and the supernatural,” Evelyn whispered, not trusting her own voice to speak louder. “I think it might be the ghost I saw in the study before.”

“Seems very likely, I agree,” Ariel said.

It was hard to bring the chaos in her head to a stop, to grasp a single thought. When she was eventually successful, the only thing she could fathom was the feeling of hope. If this kid had looked content in his death, then maybe it would not hurt after all. If it wasn’t as painful as previous pictures had made it look, then maybe she would manage that part.

“This child got hit by it quite young. All this time the fork was the curse medium and they did nothing about it? This case never made it to the books, I really wonder why?” Ariel mumbled and as they stepped closer to look at the kid better, Evelyn’s phone battery gave a last warning sound and then died in her hands.

Ariel gave a huffed sigh of annoyance and held up their old phone closer, even if the light was multiple times worse, not to say completely useless.

“Maybe it was her son? If she had told the authorities about it, his body would have been taken away, no? With such a high ranking curse, it would have.”

“No one is allowed to take a cursed body away, even if it’s a high-ranking curse,” Ariel corrected, and then, quieter, added, “Though, of course, just because authorities aren’t allowed doesn’t mean that they don’t do it.”

“Mother could not bear to part with me,” a thin voice behind them said and as they turned around, the boy from before stood right in front of them again.

His next words were hard to hear over the loudly pounding heart in Evelyn’s chest, “No curse-broker wanted to take my case, they said it would be hopeless. There were more urgent ones.”

In the near total darkness, his shape looked much more solid than most ghosts Evelyn had seen before, the faint shimmer of death old, the ash to his feet already thick. Probably subconsciously, Ariel stepped a bit closer to her, took their glasses off.

“Do you know how to break the curse?” Evelyn had the mind to ask, not that it was really her decision, but at least the question was put out there. Yet, the ghost did not answer.

“My mother tried so hard to save me. But the curse moved too quickly. I was gone within three days.”

Evelyn could not gasp or cry. She just stared at the teenager, the hollow thing that was left of him, and listened to the words that promised her doom, to the constant trickle of the ash at his feet. Only distantly, she heard Ariel typing on their phone furiously.

“What cursed you?” Ariel then asked, looking up from behind their phone.

“I wish I would have had a few more days. Maybe one day would have made a difference.”

“Have you gained insight of the curse through your death?” Ariel pressed again while Evelyn could only stare at the flimsy figure.

“I think I will go soon. Mother has been gone for so many days now. I am all alone.”

“Why aren’t you answering my questions? What’s wrong with you?” Ariel did not yell, Evelyn was certain they never did. But at this moment they seemed as close to it as possible. Still, the ghost looked completely out of it, staring between their heads at his own silver statue.

“I am very tired. I think I really want to go now.”

“It’s fine. You can rest now,” Evelyn said with nearly no voice at all, and carefully put her fingers down to his forehead. A human touch, to remind him of death. Under it, he crumbled. In a matter of seconds, all that was left of him was ghostly ash (not real ash at all), that seemingly fell through the ground – or perhaps became one with it. Soon, she might find out as well.

“What the fuck, Evelyn?” There was even more anger in Ariel’s voice now, “This was our one chance to get answers to save your life and you just sent him off? He might have said something useful! Now we’re back at nothing!”

Only then, Evelyn truly realized the extent of her actions. Sorry, however, she was not.

“You know that there was no information about the curse we could have gotten from him. He was already way too far gone, I have seen it often enough. If you had continued questioning him, then all we would have achieved is to torture him in this loneliness. It might have driven him even more insane, nothing else.”

There was just another curse for an answer, and then they turned around and stalked out of the cellar, as well as that was possible. Some items toppled down their stacks, and just as clumsily, Evelyn followed. It was not until they returned to the ground floor, that Ariel stopped.

“I really dislike darkness. I can’t see when it is completely dark,” they said, as if they needed some sort of explanation to walk out on Evelyn after such a disaster.

“It’s fine. There was nothing more we could have found down there.”

“How late is it?” Ariel asked, only to check on their own phone. “Nearly two am,” they muttered and then looked around the floor to the entry door.

“We can go if you don’t need to look around any further,” Evelyn suggested. Even if the prospect of leaving alone made her anxious. If there were any clues to a cure, wouldn’t it be here? Shouldn’t they stay until they found something – or at least searched everything until they could be certain that there was nothing to be found? If the boy had died within three days, then she only had two more days to live as well. Could a curse even be dealt with so quickly? Even if it was Ariel who worked on it. Really, the best would be if she just would get her affairs in order and-

She reached for her phone, forgetting that it had died. There wouldn’t be anything new anyway.

“Well, we still haven’t found out what caused the noises before. Not that I have a great desire to do so. But even if we don’t keep looking for it, we should stay a bit longer.” Ariel turned to her with a look that was impossible for Evelyn to read. It could not be a good look. She wanted to ask about the implications, but her breath came too fast and too shallow to really form words in her mouth. “That’s the point where we tackle more drastic measures. I do have some nolly-powder with me, so if you happen to have some face masks, we could give in and try the powder search to find the medium’s traces?” The longer they talked and stared at Evelyn, though, the more the furrow between their eyebrows increased. “Evelyn? Are you o-” They stopped short.

Evelyn wanted to reply that she was not really that okay, that it got hard to breathe and, if she really listened to her own body, that she felt like the silver was weighing her down so much that taking another step seemed just impossible.

But what she eventually said was, “I have face-masks in my car.”

Ariel eyed her with a suspicious look, but whatever they were thinking did not make it out of their mouth, so Evelyn decided to ignore it.

Rain dripped down, even if just lightly now, and it still coated Evelyn’s skin in a thin veil. If she turned into a silver statue outside, rain would probably make louder dripping sounds on her body. In winter, the snow and rain would drape her in a layer of ice. Like a true piece of art.

With shaking fingers, she got the face-masks out of the glove compartment and walked back inside where Ariel was working on plastic bags with their powders. For a while they worked in silence. She handed them a mask, put her own on too and watched as Ariel committed to the chemistry before them in ways that simply were beyond her. For all the caffeine they ingested at most random times, they had incredibly steady hands. With those steady hands they kept at it until a dark red light glowed up for a few seconds.

“So, in the worst case, which also might be the best case, this powder will tell us for once and all what the curse medium is. Except for about seven percent of the cases where nolly-powder doesn’t work, then we will be absolutely fucked.”

“Let’s just do this,” Evelyn muttered and gave them a nod.

With a sigh they filled the powder in their hands and then simply threw it up into the air. As if out of nowhere, wind twirled it through the whole floor, let the particles dance in their search for something to hold on to. It could have barely been a minute. Short enough for Evelyn to hold her breath and wait with tension in her shoulders.

Then, all at once, the powder turned, nearly grew in its ferocity, and shot straight at her. Before it could wrap around her completely, though, Ariel gave a sharp order that cut right through it. At once, it dropped down to the ground, mingled with the dust of time and ghosts.

“Are you okay?” they yelled once they reached her, a hand reaching out for her arm before they thought better of it.

Evelyn was shaken by sneezes and didn’t even manage a gesture.

“This horrid sneezing. I am so sorry. It’s really so pesky. People are working on a better powder if that helps? Let’s get you out of here, okay? I will fix you a cup of tea to rinse most of it out-” A sneeze broke them off, and a single touch made them freeze. Evelyn followed their gaze down to where they had reached out for her hand, and only found silver.

To her great dismay, time did not stand still. Even if she stared at it so still as if a statue already, she could clearly follow the silver spreading. Along with it, her heartbeat increased as panic kicked in. Evelyn looked up as Ariel’s hand travelled up her arm where she could still feel their skin and warmth.

“I can only imagine how it feels. But I do know that it is not yet too late. Let me fix you.”

Tears came hot in her eyes, her throat aching once she spoke, “Please. Help me? I really don’t want to die yet.”

Ariel smirked and pointed towards the door. They sneezed a few times. “Of course I will! I’m really looking forward to being the greatest curse-broker of this century. Nonsense! The greatest curse-broker to have ever been and ever will be. You’ll see how quickly you’ll be rid of this curse. But first I will make you drink copious amounts of nettle tea to- oh shit. I am out of nettle tea.” They sneezed.

“I have nettle tea at home,” Evelyn pushed out between multiple sneezes.

previous chapter || WIP intro || masterlist || next chapter

“That’s good. Then your place first. But I am driving.” Ariel held out their hand for the key, and considering how weak Evelyn was in her knees, the matter left no room for protest.

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#writeblr #novella #my writing #original fiction #fantasy #urban fantasy #ghosts #wip; heart of silver #heart of silver chapter 5 #tw death mention #because ghosts #tw body horror #very light cause she's still turning into a silver statue

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notnctu · 4 years

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push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details - hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances.

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.”

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression.

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander.

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room.

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head.

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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ithinkilikeit-reactions · 3 years

Text

Siren Song (Song Mingi)

Ateez Masterlist Group Masterlist

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINGI!!!!! I hope he has an amazing day

I wrote this being incredibly inspired and I quite like how it turned out so please let me know what you think

Tags: Pirate au! Mingi x Fem siren! Reader, death, nudity, alcohol

Smut tags: Quite soft, explorative, Mingi is curious, oral (reader receiving), passionate sex, body worship, a lot of kissing, cumming inside

Word count: 6177

Sirens, they were a beautiful myth. A story that sailors told to convince themselves they weren’t going mad at sea. A legend... if that’s what you believed in.

But they weren’t a legend, they were very real. Some pirates and sailors would tell you that, tell you their stories. That they had heard their beautiful songs at sea and were almost lured in. Although not many, if any believed them. Being a pirate or at sea for a long period of time makes a man lose his credibility. However sirens, were very very real.

Mingi was new to the boat, a fresh faced, wide eyed, young man who was ready to see the world. Becoming a pirate wasn’t something he had planned, it’s not something anyone truly plans. But society had failed him, because of his status. Being accused of something he didn’t do and found guilty, he didn’t have a choice but to run. Mingi feared nothing more than death, if he was caught he’d surely be hanged.

No, becoming a pirate was never what he had planned. After running, he stowed away on a goods ship and somehow found himself in a pirate hotspot. Surrounded by pillagers, murderers and some things even possibly worse, he was terrified. Until a cheery man approached him named Kim Hongjoong, had a proposition for him, an offer to get Mingi out of there and give him a family. A man in his position could hardly say no.

Now he was here, staring over the rails of the ship as they sailed slowly over misty water. He hadn’t been on waters like this in his entire life. They were filled with mystery, so much so it gave Mingi the feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach.

“Carefull, lean over too far and you might fall in.” Yunho joked as he placed some crates on the deck. “I could’ve sworn I saw-” “You saw something in the water? Not uncommon in these parts.” Yunho told the younger, watching his expression shift. Mingi was a bit paranoid, you had to be when you’re life took a turn the way his did.

“It’s common here?” Mingi asked, feeling a wave of security flow over him. He was just relieved to know he wasn’t the only one seeing things. “Very common. Don’t scare him Yunho, you were just as scared as him the first time you came here.” Captain Hongjoong’s voice startled the both of them, making them whip their heads around. “Sorry captain, I couldn’t help myself.” Yunho apologized and the captain shook his head with a smile. “Go bring those crates down to storage, Yeosang is waiting on them.” Yunho wasn’t one to disobey orders, so he grabbed them and left.

“Don’t let them make you crazy. Or this part of the sea. I’ve known plenty of men who’ve gone crazy in these parts. I like you Mingi, don’t let yourself become one of them.” Hongjoong placed his hand on the younger’s back and watched as he smiled at him. “I won’t, Captain.” Mingi laughed slightly, feeling more at ease by the second. Hongjoong smiled at him in return before going to walk away, only to turn back at the last moment. “If you hear the sweet song of a woman, ignore it.”

All that ease Mingi felt suddenly disappeared at those words, because well he didn’t quite understand what he meant. Siren’s weren’t common knowledge or a local myth in the town he grew up in.

Scared, the man backed away from the railing and carried on with his tasks. Ignoring any sound that came from anywhere other than the ship. He was so immensly paranoid now , but there was also something in the back of his mind that his crew mates were just messing with him.

That evening, he found himself drinking with Wooyoung and San, admittedly his first mistake. He didn’t know how it was possible but with those two, he found himself drinking way more than he normally would. At least he was a happy drunk, cheery as ever this way and almost forgetting the reason he was there in the first place. The crew felt like real friends however, similar to one’s he had before running away so he didn’t quite have the right to complain.

Mingi placed his bottle down on the deck and swayed over to the side of the boat. He felt like he was going to be sick, not that Wooyoung and San would’ve noticed. No they had long fallen asleep like the rest of the crew

Leaning over the deck, he looked at the black water. It was terrifying to him because of how deep it was. He couldn’t see anything, just a sea of black surrounding him. If he wasn’t nauseous before, he most definitely was now.

When he looked back at the water, he wasn’t expecting to see eyes looking back at him. Let alone warm eyes, full of life, blinking at him from the water. It was a woman seemingly bobbing along and just watching him. He could only see her face and he wasn’t even sure he was actually seeing it.

“It’s the alcohol.” He mumbled to himself, blinking and rubbing his eyes. But she didn’t disappear from sight. As a matter of fact, it seemed like she had swam closer. “Are you a pirate?” Her voice was smooth, warm in contrast to the brisk air and it made her all the more real. Mingi was frozen, just staring back at her with wide eyes and taking in the details.

It seemed like she was surrounded by light, it reflected off of her damp skin as she raised her head and body more. Now exposing her bare shoulders, he realised she wasn’t wearing any clothing and averted his eyes, but only for a moment. He had caught something out of the corner of his eye, something silver that reflected the moon light.

It was a shiny, silver tail that practically glowed. The closer he looked, the more he noticed that it was attached to her and well the more his fear rose. Though he wasn’t sure what the fear stemmed from, if it was not knowing what this creature was, or that he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“What are you?” He asked, staring at her with an intrigued expression. Mingi couldn’t help but get goosebumps as she laughed, throwing her head back and expelling the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “That’s not a very kind question... though in hind sight I asked you the same thing.” She said, lifting her hands to move her long wet hair from her face. This left her body even more exposed to him, as she bobbed along the water. Though she didn’t seem fazed by it one bit.

“How about this, you answer my question and I’ll answer yours?” She rebutted and Mingi stood with his mouth agape. “Alright.” He barely choked out and watched as she disappeared under the water, only to appear closer to the ship again. Now that she was closer, he could see her face better and he felt himself get nervous. She was beautiful, an ethereal being.

“Are you a pirate?” She asked again, a curious smile on her face as she looked up at him. “I am.” Mingi responded, watching as she clapped her hands in joy. “Oh I do so much like pirates. So much more interesting than fishermen.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke and Mingi was lost, as if she had cast spell. “Their stories are so much more interesting.” She added on before locking eyes with him once more.

“Your turn.” She smiled at him and Mingi dried his hands on his pants, the situation had caused a cold sweat to form. “What are you?” His question was simple, yet still made the woman laugh again. “Surely a pirate knows a siren when he sees one, though if that was the case you probably would’ve tried to kill me.” She rambled as her tail splashed the dark water lightly. “A siren?” Mingi asked, not quite having heard the word before. “A siren... surely you’ve heard of them. You must be quite new to sea.” She said softly, the young pirate intrigued her.

“Tell me your name, handsome pirate.” She asked softly and Mingi felt himself doubt whether he should tell her. She somehow managed to see right through him, however she called him handsome and that made a feeling bubble in the pit of his stomach. “Mingi.” He said it softly, merely a whisper, one he didn’t think she could hear. “Mingi.” She repeated much to his surprise. “Mingi... I like the way that feels to say.” She added on and he leaned down a bit more, trying to get closer to her.

“Mingi, make sure to ask your crew about sirens.” She giggled before disappearing underwater, only to appear further away. Mingi’s heart sank, not wanting her to go, not yet. “Wait! Wait! At least tell me your name!” He called out to her, watching as she halted once more. She turned to look at him and with small laugh, she told him. “Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

Mingi couldn’t find sleep, not at all after that. There was question in his mind whether all that he saw that night really happened. He had drank a lot and he had been at sea longer than ever before. It must’ve been a dream, a vision even. You were a dream, a vision.

“Did you drink that much last night?” Captain Hongjoong asked, staring at his younger crew mate. He was gazing off into the distance, eyes small due to lack of sleep and hands restless. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Mingi admitted, not quite wanting to ask anyone about what he had seen. But if anyone would tell him seriously, it would be the captain.

“What’s bothering you?” The man could tell when something was bothering his crew and it was incredibly obvious that something was bothering him. “It’s just something San and Wooyoung said yesterday...” “I told you not to listen to their stories.” The captain laughed and Mingi shook his head. “No, I just- what are sirens?” Mingi choked out the question, the thing that had been on his mind all night. Hongjoong wasn’t expecting the question to lead here, he thought the man knew.

“You don’t know? I thought you did when I made my comments yesterday.” He watched as the younger shook his head. “Well, many think they’re legend. I suppose I understand why, the brain refuses to believe what it can’t see. But they are very much real.” He paused and Mingi was starting to become scared. Maybe it was his captain’s tone of voice, or maybe it was the validation that you weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“They’re beautiful beings, more beautiful than any of the other evil things put on this earth. Top half of a beautiful woman and the bottom half a tail. Not to mention their voices, they lure sailor men in with their song and beauty. Only to drag them to bottom of the ocean and drown them. Most sailors fall for it, they just want a kiss from the beautiful thing so that when they go back home they have a story to tell. Fools, can’t blame the creatures for doing it.” Mingi was mortified at his captain’s words. To think he found you to be the most beautiful thing in the world. The prettiest things were the deadliest, that was what Mingi was starting to learn.

Mingi took the words as warning, if you appeared again he wasn’t going to give you the time of day. At least that’s what he told himself. Despite the tale, he wanted to see you again. So badly, he found himself dreaming about you. His eyes deceived him as stared out at the sea, he could have sworn he saw the sunlight reflect off of your silver tail.

But he had to push the to the side, there was an island incomming. It was nothing more than a small island, no living thing in sight. Nothing but beaches and trees, good enough to hunt and good enough to make sure the men didn’t go crazy on board. Which meant everyone around was scrambling around and preparing to drop the anchor.

His eyes were glued on the water as they rowed to shore. Mingi was entirely sure he would never see you again, they had travelled quite far in the last 2 days and well it’s not like you had a reason to stick around. He was sure of it, but he didn’t want to be right.

The plan was to stay on the island over night, sleep in the tree line and then go back in the morning once they had gathered enough and hunted enough. Simple enough.

Well, night rolled around quickly and the crew was sound asleep. Everyone except Mingi, no he had hardly slept a wink since you visited him. He simply laid in his hammock and counted the stars through the tree tops. That was until he heard a song. An absolutely heavenly voice coming from the shore.

Mingi knew he shouldn’t have gotten up, he knew it. But there was a chance that it was you and he just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see you again, despite what his captain had told him.

The sand crunched beneath his boots as he slowly walked over to the shore line, scanning the beach and looking for the source of the voice. Looking over, he could see a group of rocks and on top of the largest one, he spotted it. That familiar glow of your tail in the moonlight and the way you looked up at the sky and sang.

Waling slowly, he listened to your song and your beautiful voice as you stared at the night sky. The closer he got, the more he found his chest aching. He couldn’t tell if it was with fear or desire and that line got more blurred the closer he got.

“Mingi!” Your voice was cheery when you noticed him approaching you and it was accompanied with an enthousiastic wave. “Surely Y/N isn’t as malicious as Hongjoong told me.” He thought to himself as he stood in front of the rock. You were as beautiful as ever, sitting in front of him.

“I was hoping you’d be the one to come and find me.” She teased, a soft smirk on her lips as Mingi tried not to gawk at you. “You’re even more handsome up close.” She added on and he felt himself get nervous. “You told me to ask my crew what a siren was. I did.” Mingi told you, playing with his hands so he had something else to look at. “Hmm and what did they tell you?” You were staring at him, truly wanting him to look at you again.

When Mingi finally brought his eyes back to you, he noticed that your tale was gone, now showing a pair of legs and a very, very bare body. “How?-” He stuttered and you laughed, loving the surprise on his face. “They apparently didn’t tell you everything. if we’re dry and on land, we have legs.” You explained, watching as his eyes trailed over your body.

“Are you going to kill me?” Mingi asked, finding it better to be straightforward from this point on. It’s better to have feigned confidence than nothing at all. “No. You fascinate me. I don’t kill the things that fascinate me.” You were so blunt about it, raking your hands through your hair. “Come here, pirate and tell me your story. It’s not every day a pirate doesn’t know the legend of a siren. Whether they believe it or not.” Mingi was caught off guard, not sure what to do. The sea was far enough away, which comforted him because he knew you couldn’t drown him on this rock.

He moved to sit across from you on the rock and tried to avoid staring at your bare body, averting his eyes before shrugging off his vest and handing it to you. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time concentrating.” Mingi stuttered, you smiled at him though and an odd feeling shot through your chest. “Most sailors would simply enjoy.” You said and slipped the clothing over your shoulders. Mingi shook his head, a small smile now forming over his own lips. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it.” He clarified and looked at you wearing his clothes. You were beautiful.

“You’re a different type of man, Mingi.” Why his name sounded so good coming from your lips, he had no idea. But it was absolutely addicting.

“How did you end up out here?” You asked, stretching your legs and leaning back. You loved a good story, where as your sisters didn’t quite like talking but preferred a siren’s typical methods.

“This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be, I wasn’t supposed to end up here.” Mingi had te delve deep for a moment. Sure some of the crew knew his story, but it wasn’t something he told just anyone.

“I lived in a town that was quite progressive, I worked under and iron smith as an apprentice. I did good, I was a good man and i just tried to make it by like anyone else.” You watched as he spoke, taking in his details and tone. He was sad. “I never tried to hurt anyone and if I did it wasn’t on deliberate. But my master, he wasn’t good. He actively tried hurting people, especially ones he hated and he didn’t hate anyone more than his own daughter. I never understood why, she was pretty, kind and well liked among the town but he hated her.” Mingi had to pause, remembering that time, remembering the sweet girl that was always so nice to him when he worked.

“I came into the shop one day and found her, dead on the ground, strangled. Her father did it and pinned it on me. Claiming that I ‘always watched her when she was around’ and that I was ‘just wait for a chance to be alone with her’. I-” Mingi was cut off when a tear dropped from his eyes. You had placed your hand on his chin, wiping it away with your thumb. “You never touched her.” You said softly, scanning his face. “I never did, They were going to hang me for something I didn’t do. I had to run.” You continued to wipe the tears from his face, moving onto your knees to get closer to him.

“And that’s how you ended up here.” You had heard many sad stories in your life, but none of the men had seemed nearly as regretful as Mingi did in this moment. Your hand moved from his chin to his cheek, taking in his handsome features. Even when he was upset, he was handsome. Sharp jawline coupled with a sharp nose and pillowy lips. Definitely one of the more handsome men at sea.

“You know in your heart that you didn’t do it.” You said softly, moving your fingers to thread through his hair. Mingi found himself staring at your face, taking note of your sympathetic face. Surely you weren’t the murderous creature he was told you were.

“My sisters aren’t fond of men, they kill them for sport. But I like hearing the stories, it takes a lot to drive a man out to sea.” You explained and gently pulled his face closer to yours. Mingi felt himself sink into your touch, allowing you to guide him into laying down with his face settled in the crook of your neck. Your skin was soft under his touch and his hands found your waist to hold onto as he relaxed. Your nails scraped over his scalp lightly, making him hum.

“You have a pure soul.” You said softly, enjoying his touch. Mingi didn’t know what had gotten into him, he had went from being scared of you to being held by you and well he was enjoying it. Your touch was comforting.

Your legs tangled with his, fingers still running through his hair. “Go to sleep Mingi. Dawn is almost upon us.” You whispered, kissing his forehead and allowing him to lul to sleep. Mingi had let his guard down fully for you and as ridiculous as it sounded, he was falling in love.

The hours in your arms, were the best hours he had ever slept. Being in such a deep dream that he didn’t think even an earthquake could wake him. He dreamt that he was underwater and absolutely weightless. Just floating under the surface of chrystal clear water. You were swimming circles around him, silver tail catching the rays of light from the sun as you did so. He felt as if he was one with the ocean.

It wasn’t until the feeling of something pushing him (quite roughly) woke him up and brought him back to reality. “Jesus Christ Mingi, we thought you’d be killed by something. What are you doing all the way out here?” Wooyoung’s voice was shrill as he yelled to wake Mingi up. “Huh?” He shot up from his position on the rock, looking around frantically for you. But you were nowhere to be found and well, neither was his vest.

“What are you doing out here?” Wooyoung asked again and Mingi shook his head, needing to come up with a response and fast. “I uhh couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk and then sat down here. Guess I fell asleep.” He cleared his throat and blinked at his friend. “You’ve been acting strange Mingi. Are you alright?” He asked, voice full of concern. Mingi never acted this odd, Wooyoung was worried.

“I’m fine, just haven’t been sleeping properly.” He admitted and ran his fingers through his hair. Your touch was still lingering on his skin, he could feel you everywhere.

“Captain wants to stay here one more night, founds some caves and a lake he wants to check out.” Wooyoung explained and Mingi nodded. “Alright, I’ll be around in a bit.” Mingi said softly, needing a moment to process some things. Where had you gone?

He had managed to pull himself together, rejoining the crew in exploring the island. Traipsing through the trees, he looked around the area and took it in. One thing he could admit was that he never would have seen half of the beautiful things he had if he had stayed in his village, you included. He couldn’t take that for granted, especially not as he was standing in front of a small waterfall that fell into a small crystal clear lake.

“Wow.” He said quietly, feeling Hongjoong clap his hand onto his back. “Not something you see everyday.” His captain said, a big smile on his face. Mingi couldn’t help but crack a smile himself, shaking his head. “Definitely not something you see everyday.” He laughed, looking over to the waterfall and laughing. The bad feeling he had had about you was gone, the bad feeling in his gut was gone. Airing his worries out to you made him feel better, things were looking up in his opinion. Maybe he would sleep properly from now on too.

The pirates made camp near the water and Mingi found himself once more staring into water. It was so clear but you couldn’t see the bottom. It was deceptively deep, someone could easily make the mistake of swimming too deep and not make it back up for air. It looked like the water from his dream.

The feeling of gentle fingertips gliding over his cheek woke him up that night. He knew his crew wouldn’t spare him the same gentle touch, it had to be you. “Wake up handsome.” Your fingertips moved from his cheek to his chin, stroking it gently as you took in features. Truly handsome.

“Where’d you go this morning?” Mingi asked, eyes opening slowly to see your face. He watched as your lips curled into smile and your eyes sparkled. “Come on.” You said softly, taking his hand into yours. Pulling Mingi from his bed, he didn’t even question it. He had decided that this island was his paradise.

“You stole my vest.” Mingi commented once they were further away from the rest of the crew. He watched you let out a hearty laugh and turn around to look at him. “I found myself quite liking it. I think i could get used to this clothing thing.” You smiled, before tugging him closer to you.

He felt his breath hitch for a moment as your chest met his, it was a natural reaction. The only thing keeping his body from yours was his vest, naturally he was flustered. Mingi pressed his chest against you, the weight of his body making you step backwards until your back hit a boulder.

“You keep calling me handsome.” Mingi remarked, his hand coming up to rest on your bare hip. It was the first time a man’s touch had made goosebumps form over your skin. “You keep calling me handsome and I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful I think you are.” His words made you almost shiver. Of course you had heard them all before, he wasn’t your first pirate or sailor. But surely they had a different effect on you than most.

You grabbed his chin again, this time with more force than any of the other times. Mingi flinched slightly only to find your lips not inches apart from his and he took the risk. He was going to kiss a siren.

He didn’t intend to kiss you so roughly, but need took over as he pressed his lips to yours. You moved your hands to his hair and gently scratched over his scalp as he kissed you. Deepening the kiss as you did so, you could feel him hum against your lips. His hand moved up, from your hip to your waist underneath vest and his grip tightened slightly.

Mingi moved his hands down to your thighs, lifting you off the ground to lay you down on your back. The vest had shifted, being useless in covering you up at this point, so you simply took it off. He sat on his heels as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting his body to leave yours. You simply looked up at him as he looked over your body, his regularly soft expression having turned dark and intense. It made heat pool inbetween your legs.

Reaching up, you undid the ties on his shirt and tugged it off of him. The action made him laugh before he leaned down and pressed his bare chest to yours. His hands moving your hair out of your face before kissing you again. This kiss was so much more intense, teeth clashing and hips rolling into yours. Not to mention the feeling of his bare skin on yours, you were infatuated with him.

His pants didn’t do much for hiding how much he enjoyed you, bulge pressing directly into your bare core. You let out a gasp at the pressure, making him nip at your lips before trailing the kisses down your jaw. He wasn’t horribly experienced but he knew enough and well he seemed to be doing just fine. That gave him a confidence boost, not to mention every little sound coming out of your mouth, boosted his confidence even more.

“Mingi-” You hummed, feeling his lips over your neck. The kisses were gentle, soft praises being whispered inbetween them. “So beautiful.” He said softly and groaned as you tugged harshly on his hair. Mingi looked you in the eyes and flashed a smile in your direction. “Where did you learn how to kiss like that?” You asked, your fingers tracing over his lips. “I had a life before this.” He chuckled before turning his face back to your skin.

His hands moved to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples before latching his lips over one. Sucking at your skin and sending a wave of pleasure through your body and making your arch your back.

Mingi was absolutely straining in his pants now, your body was perfect to him as if you were made for him. Your soft skin, your precious lips and your gentle hands, you were everything he had always wanted.

Your fingers threading through his hair got a bit harsher the more he flicked his tongue of your nipple, you already felt like you were on fire. He moved his lips down over your stomach before stopping at before your core. This was something he had never done, but something he had always wanted to do.

Spreading your thighs a little further, he settled between your legs and wrapped his arms around them. “What are yo- Oh.” You moaned, feeling the light kiss on your core. It almost made you feel lightheaded and dizzy, as his tongue delved deeper. Licking up your juices, he couldn’t help but moan. Perhaps it was because of what you were, or maybe you truly were built for him, but you tasted sweet and addictive. He wanted more of you.

You raised your hips, guiding your core over his tongue and moaning out. “Mingi please don’t stop.” You moaned out, needing to feel that sweet sweet release. it was the way you moaned out his name, repeatedly like you were saying a prayer, he wasn’t going to stop until you came. He pulled you closer to his face, harshly and showed you that he truly wasn’t planning on stopping.

The coil in your stomach quickly burst, making your hips buck as you tried to pull away from him. The whines coming out of your mouth were music to his ears as he continued to lick over your core, lapping up every bit of your juices that he could and finally pulling away.

You looked at him as he sat on his heels again, lower part of his face glistening with your juices and breathing heavily. “Did that also get taught to you from your life before this?” You asked, sitting up to undo his pants. His arms hung at his sides and he simply let you do it for him. “Actually, I’ve never done that before.” Mingi admitted, making your actions halt. It felt entirely too good for it to have been his first time. You raised an eyebrow at him before pushing him back, making him lay on the ground.

“I feel like you’re lying to me.” You said, tugging his pants down and watching his cock spring up. “I don’t lie.” He said and you shook your head. You straddled him, your core right over his and you braced your hands on his chest. “All men lie.” You whispered, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on his lips. His hands moved to your ass and helped you sink down onto him. “I like to think I’m not like all men. Especially not what you’re used too” He groaned, finally being enveloped in you. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his, breathing through the stretch and feeling a warmth in your chest as his fingers laced with yours. It was a comforting action, to distract you from the discomfort however slight it was. Maybe Mingi wasn’t like all men.

You raised his hands over his head, pinning them there with your own as you started raising your hips. Allowing yourself to bounce on him, you felt so incredibly full. Filling you up completely and making your legs shake slightly but you put that to the side. It felt too good to stop.

Mingi was even more convinced than before that you were made for him with the way you squeezed him. You released his hands and placed yours back on his chest, needing more support as you continued to ride him. He was hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every little bit he raised his hips to meet your thrusts.

“You feel so good.” Mingi moaned out, hands pulling your chest flush against his. he planted his feet on the ground, fucking up into you and taking over. He was chasing his own high, needing a harsher pace and leaving you stuttering.

You watched his face, from his shut eyes to his clenched jaw. That alone was almost enough to make you orgasm again. You kissed his lips to hide your moans as you felt them getting louder, his crew still being only a small distance away. He kissed you in return as his own stomach filled with warmth. He was so close to release and just needed that little bit to send you both over the edge. Your hand found his hair once more, tugging it in response to a harsh thrust and that did it. His hips stuttered and deep groans left his lips as he planted himself deep inside of you. Orgasm coating your walls and sending you over the edge with him.

You lay there ontop of him, feeling incredibly full as he stroked your hair. “You are different from most men.” You mumbled softly, feeling a wave guilt come through you. “Most men don’t care the way you do.” Your words shrunk in volume even more, guilt and shame taking over you. Maybe it was guilt over your past actions, the men you had dragged to the bottom of the ocean, maybe it was about what you were going to do.

Mingi helped you get off of him, watching you lay down next to him. You rested your head on his chest and he stroked your hair. The few times he had been with someone this way, yes they had been special. But nothing quite like this, Mingi was overwhelmed with love.

“Y/N?” His tone sounded questioning, almost as unsure as the first night he had met you. “I think I might be in love with you.” He confessed, the feeling in his chest no longer being contained. He really couldn’t help himself, the last few days had been filled with you. Not just physically, but you were in his heart. You were speechless at his words, the guilt now eating you alive.

“Come with me.” You said, pushing yourself off of the ground. Mingi couldn’t care anymore, not if you were completely bare or if he was. No, he only knew he would follow you anywhere.

“Where are we going?” He asked, as you lead him towards the lake. “I feel sticky, I want to go for a swim.” You told him, hardly being able to look him in the eyes anymore. “Join me.” You added on, holding his hand gently, you stood before the water together.

“Hey.” Mingi said softly, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and make you look at him. You hadn’t even realised it, but tears were falling over your cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asked, those beautiful brown eyes boring holes into your own. You had never felt this guilty before. “Nothing’s wrong...” Your voice trailed off and looked to his lips once more. You started walking forward, making him walk backwards towards the water.

He stepped in slowly, leaning forward to kiss you as he did so. “Mingi... I love you too.” You admitted, deciding that that was where the guilt stemmed from. Mingi felt his chest get warm once more, not being used to this at all but wondering how your life together could be from this point on.

He kissed you, harshly and you sighed into it before diving forward. You both fell into the water, lips still locked and you gripped his wrist. You needed to get rid of your guilt and now was better than any other time.

Mingi wasn’t entirely aware of how far down into the lake you had pulled him. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as your silver tail brought you both down towards the bottom quickly.

It wasn’t until it was already too late that Mingi realised that this was his dream. Down at the bottom of a lake, the moonlight shining down through the surface as Mingi felt absolutely weightless. You let him go and swam around him, watching him blink under the water as he watched you.

He started feeling himself go lightheaded, dizzy as his lungs started to burn. He was starting to realise that his dream wasn’t a dream, it was a warning and it was now too late. Feeling his vision go dark, the last thing he saw was that silver glimmer of your tail in the moonlight and your beautiful face.

Despite being the thing that killed him, he still thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

A/N: Again please let me know what you think! This is quite different from what I normally write. There will most definitely be typos but please,ignore those lmao

#a&mlibrary #mingi #mingi smut #ateez #ateez reaction #ateez smut

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chazukekani · 4 years

Text

SPOILER ALERT

Here is the quick summary of the first 60 pages of Stormbringer that just revealed today.

Special thanks to Nika, Amir, and my discord server members for proof-reading!

— That is, the 169th possibility

— ‘You are late, my brother.’

Content

Prologue

Code:01 A programme with 2383 lines, just an idea from a group of researchers

Code 02: Dead people do not possess any form of emotion

Code 03: I want to observe Chuuya’s suffer as a human

Code 04: Grantors of disgrace, you need not wake me again

Epilogue

Afterthought

Harukawa Sango ‘Stormbringer’ Character Setting Gallery

Pre-prologue

Fate whispers to warriors,

‘You cannot go against the storm.’

Warriors whisper back

‘I am the storm.’

— Cao Zhi ‘Luo Shen Fu’

Prologue

It began in a forest at midnight. It was supposed to be a peaceful night, but suddenly a beam appeared in the forest. It’s a huge fire. The forest was on fire. People who lived in the village nearby ran to the forest to see what happened. It was a wrecked airplane that just fell from the sky. People used hammers to dig the airplane to see whether there are any survivors.

Suddenly, a man walked out from the airplane. He seemed fine, but the crowd was shocked.

‘Apologies for my courtesy. In accordance with civil society, I should introduce myself,’ said the man. He pulled out a badge on his chest. The badge was black and words on it were engraved with silver. One of the teenagers from the village read off the words on it

‘I am a detective from Europole (Europe Detective and Police Organisation), which I am an office equipment. Category number 98F78195, made by ability technician Dr. Wollstonecraft. The first ever humanoid computer that serves for worldwide police facilities. Code name is Adam, Adam Frankenstein. It is my pleasure to meet you. I should carry out my mission now, see you.’

Before Adam left, he asked ‘Do you know a person called Nakahara Chuuya?’

Code:01 A programme with 2383 lines, just an idea from a group of researchers

Chuuya couldn't see his dream. Everytime he woke up, he felt like he was in a swamp of mud. Today, Chuuya woke up in his apartment. Just like other’s morning routine, Chuuya took a shower, cleaned himself and left his home.

Chuuya was 16 years old. Since a year he had joined the mafia, Chuuya excelled in his job with the most outstanding performance, and was well recognised in the organisation.

However with all the money and status he got, Chuuya was not satisfied. The thing that he wanted the most was to know his past. Chuuya knew nothing about it. The earliest memory he had was being kidnapped to a military facility 8 years ago.

There was already a branded black car waiting for Chuuya outside his apartment with a group of men in suits and sunglasses. ‘Please go to the regular store,’ said Chuuya.

Chuuya was in charge of supervising the jewel/gemstone transaction within the Mafia and black market, which had been an important source of income for the mafia.

He arrived at the store. Before entering it, a gun was pointed on Chuuya’s head, while there was another gun pointed onto his chest. Bang! What a big sound. Yet there was no blood, but a bunch of colourful ribbons came off.

‘Congratulations to your 1st year since joining the mafia!’, said those men.

Today was the first anniversary for Chuuya joining the mafia, and his friends held a party for him. People who joined the party all belonged to the ‘young club’ of the mafia, which were all 25 years old or younger.

The party-planner was called ‘Piano Man’. He was called Piano Man not because of his black and white outfit, but his way of killing. He liked using the strings of piano keyboards and strangled people to death. Piano Man was very tall, his fingers were long and thin, and always put a smile on his face. He was by far the man who was closest to the position of the Port Mafia executive.

The second man who came to congratulate Chuuya was called Albatross, a man with golden hair. He was a teen that loved smiling and was very talkative. Albatross was in charge of the transportation aspect of the mafia, and was complimented as very efficient and speedy in completing the missions, and was currently living in the same neighbourhood as Chuuya in a high-ended area. He previously belonged to an organisation called ‘Wheelman’.

Albatross proposed a toasting, but Chuuya was not in a good mood. “Did you have a nightmare?” Albatross joked, but Chuuya turned furious after hearing the word ‘nightmare’. Everyone was horrified. ‘No I wasn’t!’ Chuuya shouted. When Chuuya was about to leave the shop, yet another man came in. He was holding a champagne glass, and on his other hand, he was holding a medical drip stand that had a drip injected into his arm. His name was Doc.

Different from other doctors in the gangster industry, Doc graduated in a Northern American university and was awarded with a Doctorate formally. Doctors were highly demanded within the mafia because members could not simply walk into regular hospitals with injuries that were caused by gunshots. Doctors in the PM were treated nicely and respected, thanks to the boss, Mori-san, who was also a former doctor. The reason why Doc became a doctor was because he wanted to get closer to God. ‘The more lives you save, the closer you get to God’ is the motto of Doc. The Bible once wrote that God saved two million lives, so Doc’s goal was to save a similar number of people, which was why he joined the Mafia.

Chuuya still wanted to leave.

“The first year was the toughest, so we need to celebrate that you got through it,’ a gentle voice said. It was a man who had an extraordinarily beautiful appearance. The first year of joining the Mafia was the so-called ‘Deadman Curve’, so a celebration is needed,” said Lippmann, the guy with a pretty face. The work of Lippmann was probably the most unique one out of all of them. He was in charge of the public relations of the Mafia, such as negotiating deals with enterprises, or having meetings with the government. It is more difficult to kill him than killing the Boss of the Mafia because Lippmann was also a famous actor, thus every single action he made would be reported by the media. Hence it was really difficult to get him.

Another man came in, and his name was Ice Man. Unlike Chuuya’s other friends, he was quiet, and wore a simple outfit. Ice Man did not show much emotion, and was low profile. His job was simple, to kill. He did not use an ability, guns or knives to kill. Instead, he used objects that were nearby to kill. Anything, regardless if it’s a pen, wine bottle or the wire of light bulbs could become a murdering tool, hence Ice Man could kill anywhere.

The gathering continued. Chuuya was gradually having a better mood, until Ice Man asked Chuuya ‘where were you born?’ Chuuya immediately grabbed Ice Man’s shirt, and there was such a tension among the guys. Piano Man then revealed that he knew why Chuuya was mad, because Mori told him about Chuuya’s past that he was just an artificial ability experiment that was created by the military. Hence Mori asked Piano Man to invite Chuuya into the younger’s club, in order to have a surveillance on Chuuya. Piano Man pointed out the reason why Chuuya was mad today because he was actually not able to dream. Suddenly, the tension was back. Everyone had their weapons already, but Piano Man took out a present for the 1st anniversary from his coat, and gave it to Chuuya.

It was a photograph, a picture of two people, and one of them was five year old Chuuya.

The picture was taken in an old village in the Western region, Piano Man said. The area was abandoned afterwards but Doc found this picture inside the medical record of the village. Lippmann then added that he had asked a woman to check all the military-related databases, in which she found out that the military once held a recruitment experiment in the Western region. Still, Chuuya’s friends were able to find the family tree of Chuuya, his school, his report card and his birth record. However, such an investigation must not be known to Mori because Mori thought that if Chuuya’s background remained a secret, Chuuya would not betray the Mafia.

Chuuya did not understand why his friends did this for him. Lippmann said because they were companions. He then proposed why not they name the younger’s club as ‘Flags’.

The Flags then went to a billiards bar. All of a sudden, apart from the six people playing the billiards, there was the seventh person who joined the game. He had long arms and legs, and of course very tall. Black hair with brown eyes, and was standing by the table seriously.

All of a sudden, Albatross used his Kulric knife and sliced on the seventh person's head, which produced an uncomfortable noise. Yet, that person escaped from the attack. A fight then broke out because the Flags thought this seventh person was an ability user, and suspected his intention for coming to the Mafia’s facility. However, Ice Man pointed out that this person was not an ability user, but the fight continued.

During the fight, Adam grabbed the legs of the table, and something grew from his hand. It was a small-scale dinosaur, that grew from Adam’s hands as if it were a plant. The battle was intense. Someone shouted Chuuya’s name out of nowhere, and Adam noticed something.

‘Chuuya-san’, Adam greeted Chuuya politely.

‘I am here to protect you,’ Adam replied. Adam introduced himself, and explained his mission. Adam was sent here to arrest an assassin called Paul Verlaine.

When Chuuya heard the name Verlaine, his facial expression changed.

‘Why do you know this name?’ asked Chuuya

‘Chuuya-san, you cannot defeat Verlaine on your own. That’s why I am here. Verlaine was not only an assassin. He is the king of assassins. He is your brother.’ said Adam.

The misconception was relieved, and the Flags, together with Adam, played billiards happily afterwards.

The story continues on 27th Feb

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs storm bringer #bungou stray dogs storm bringer #bsd storm bringer #bsd nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya

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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1976 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern. You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

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

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius

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glossyfairytears · 3 years

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Start of the story: Bnha magical AU

The walk to the library is always a nice way to have some alone time for yourself. It’s not far from student dorms making studying there a lot more appealing. The approaching the old building, you admire how the vines have grown into a solid green blanket, clinging to the stone walls. Last time you were here a certain hot headed blonde had been “practicing offensive spells”outside the library with Izuku and accidentally hit one of the vines causing a section of the vines to wither.

“I SAID I WONT DO IT AGAIN SHITTY HAIR”

“Just making sure, man. Wouldn’t want to see you expelled or anything.”

“IT WAS ONE TIME”

Ahh speak of the devil.

Bakugo and Kirishima were coming from the path opposite you. Not really wanting to deal with Bakugo at the moment, you slipped inside the weathered doors.

The smell of books and incense greets your nose. Ms. Midnight must be around. She always carried a soothing smell of lavender and rose.

Talking a turn, you head for the stairs, making your way to the spot you tend to study in. It was a smaller table, pressed against a wall and hidden by some shelves. It gave a great view of the courtyard in front of the library.

After what felt like a considerable amount of time, you shut your book, satisfied with the progress you had made. Checking your watch, it was around 7:00. Dinner usually started around 7:30, but it never hurt to get there a little early, besides if you are leaving dinner a little early to meet Todoroki at 8:00 you wanted to at least look presentable for when he would kill you. Speak of the devil. Glancing out the window, you catch sight of Todoroki’s distinctive red and white hair. Strange. He seemed to be talking with someone but you couldn’t quite see who it was.

He wasn’t unattractive, you supposed. The way the dying light hit his hair made it glow, the silver side seeming to possess an ethereal quality to it and the red lighting up like flames. The contours of his face seemed to rival incubi, and his build put statues to shame.

…maybe he was attractive.

Todoroki’s head turns, staring straight at you and you jump. He couldn’t see you, right? The library window isn’t too opaque, so he shouldn’t be able to see you. You see his lips move saying something unintelligible and Momo’s dark hair pops out from behind the hedges. She too glances at the library before parting Todoroki on the shoulder, laughing it looks like before she walks away.

Thoroughly embarrassed and slightly creeped out for possibly being caught staring and stared back at, you quickly shove your things in your bag and leave. Todoroki was still in the courtyard, but had began to walk away, luckily not in the direction of the dorms. You scurry down the main path, taking extra precautions so that he may not notice you. It would feel weird, in your opinion, to see him before the set time considering all of the possibilities flying around your head.

Stopping a moment, you glance back at the library, finding the window you were at. The window was indeed dark enough that he shouldn’t have been able to see anything. Perhaps he was looking at the last patch of wilted leaves near it. Hopefully he was, but it felt Ike he made eye contact. Like he knew you were there.

Brushing it off you raced up the stairs and haphazardly plopped your things on your dorm bed. Heading to your dresser, you glanced in the mirror. Your tie was a little crooked and the collar on your shirt had shifted a little, but other than that you looked about the same as you did this morning.

Fixing those, you grab your scarf from your dresser. It tended to get a little cold once the sun dropped and since Todoroki was so adept with ice magic it couldn’t hurt for extra protection… who are you kidding, a scarf wouldn’t protect you from ice of that caliber. Huffing, you straightened your tie once more and wrapped your scarf neatly over it, out of spite.

As you had expected, the sun setting had chilled the air with its recent disappearance. The sunset was still very pretty though, framed by the old buildings of the campus. You didn’t have long to admire it, however as you made it to the dining hall rather quickly. Pulling open the doors to the main building you could hear the sounds of the dining hall from off to the right.

It was a beautiful building, tall arches melting into towering ceilings. Stained glass replacing a few of the normal windows. The warmth it gave off around meal times felt so welcoming. Spotting mina’s horns and bright pink hair, you made your way over to her.

“Started without me?” You ask, smug look on your face.

She jumps, swallowing the bun in her mouth in one gulp.

“No?” She flashes doe eyes at you, “I haven’t the faintest clue what your talking about.”

“Right, and I don’t have black hair” Sero quips from behind you.

Mina smiles, scooting over so that you and Sero can sit. You tend to sit in the middle of the two, definitely not to steal food off of their plates. They never seem to mind, however.

“Soooo?” They both ask you.

“Soooo?” You ask back.

“Oh come on!” Mina grabs your shoulders. “Are you gonna go or what I’m dying to know!”

“Please (Y/N), you gotta tell us”

“Okay, okay” you sigh:

“I’m going”

“I’m not going”

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere bnha #yandere x reader #yandere reader insert #yandere x y/n #choose your adventure #choose your own adventure #yandere todoroki #yandere shoto x reader #yandere x you #yandere mha #bnha magical au

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mckennamayfairgoode · 4 years

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I See the Signs of a Lifetime, You ‘Til I Die

Cordelia Goode x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Clueless idiot thinks she’s undeserving; it's up to the Supreme to prove her wrong.

Warnings: Angst, yearning, insecurity, maybe a smidge of self-deprecation.

A/N: First time posting, first time writing for American Horror Story.

The title is from one of my favorite songs: “Don’t Delete the Kisses” by Wolf Alice.

She’s wearing black lace today. Black lace with a high collar that conceals the pale, tender flesh of her throat. You want to pull the fabric down with shaking hands, press your mouth against her skin, feel the thrum of her life beneath your lips. Your eyes linger like the spots in your vision when you’ve stared at the sun for too long.

She laughs suddenly, beautifully, sincerely, and you think your heart might combust right inside your chest. God, how you love her. Furiously and with every part of you. You want nothing more than to offer them to her. To get on your knees and hold them out like offerings to a goddess, but you know they are no good. They are worth nothing. It would be cruel to have her look upon the broken pieces and the ugly parts, to force sweet, kind, gentle Cordelia to throw them aside. In doing so, it would only serve to hurt her more than it would hurt you.

An elbow nudges you in the side.

Even though the action is gentle, you jerk as if you had been burned, turning to meet amused blue eyes. “Ya gonna keep starin’ at her, or finally do somethin’ about it?” Misty asks, leaning back against the counter behind you. Your arms brush and you absentmindedly lean into the contact.

Your eyes roll at her words. “We’ve already had this discussion,” you say.

“No, we haven’t. Every time I try to talk to you, you run away.”

“I don’t run away,” you insist under your breath. You resist the urge to look at the door, your fingertips tapping anxiously on the edge of the counter.

Misty shoots you a knowing look. “You were sayin’?”

You huff, turning your eyes downward and shrugging one shoulder like it’s no skin off your nose. Like Cordelia doesn’t have a permanent residence in your mind. Like your heart doesn’t beat in tune with hers. “She-” the lump forming in your throat catches the words in your mouth.

The secret must lie in your eyes because Misty wraps a hand under your chin, lifting your face so that your gazes can meet. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, Y/N/N,” she murmurs, just low enough for you to hear. Her eyes are earnest. She’s telling the truth so why don’t you believe her?

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to scream. You want to throw a tantrum just like the one you threw as a child from a broken home when you were told that your daddy wasn’t coming back and your mama didn’t want you and everything would be alright, but you need to quiet down now because the adults are talking. You want to scream just as you did when you were a child whose entire life had begun and ended in a hospital ward. You want to curl your hands into fists, stomp your feet into the floor, raise your face to the Heavens, and scream out as loud as your vocal cords will allow. There is something wrong with you, Cordelia does deserve better, and wanting to scream is better than not wanting to do anything at all. But you don’t say these things. Instead, like a moth drawn to a flame, you turn your head from Misty’s grip to meet Cordelia’s eyes and feel the scream die in your chest.

How long has she been watching? A part of your mind wonders. The other part, the largest part, is too lost in her eyes to wonder anything at all.

You can’t decipher the emotions there, but you want to. She glances at Misty then back to you before offering a smile. It is a sad smile, out of place on her lips. You can’t help but wonder how to make it real, how to make her face light up in the way you adore. When her nose crinkles and her eyes shine like the darkest embers of a sunrise. But before you can summon up the courage to do anything at all, you blink and she’s gone. You stare at the space where she had been and feel your heart deflate.

That night, you gaze at your reflection in the coffeemaker. You don’t know how long you have been standing there, hands braced against the counter as the thoughts of inadequacy and yearning turn around and around in your mind, a meaningless haze that only serves to remind you of what you already know. She could never love you. Not the way you love her: with everything and always and no one else ever again. Just her. Always, always, always.

“Are you going to drink any of that, or is it purely for decoration?” A voice asks teasingly from the doorway, startling you from your inner monologue.

You whirl around, your heart thudding in your ribcage. “Jesus, Delia,” you gasp, hand to your chest as it pounds.

She gives you an apologetic smile, the little one that forms when she’s faintly amused. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” she murmurs, not really sounding sorry at all. It’s late, the girls are asleep, and the moon shines like a spotlight through the kitchen window, but Cordelia is awake. Cordelia is here, in the kitchen, in that black lace dress with the skirt swishing delicately around her ankles as she steps further into the room.

“It’s okay,” you hear yourself say distantly. You look at her and you ache. God, how you ache for her. A sense of deja vu rushes over you as your eyes brush over the high collar of her dress. There’s a tiny black button just above her clavicle. A flick of your fingers and it would come free. The fabric would fall away and all you would have to do is- A gentle clearing of her throats grabs your attention, yanking you back to reality. You dart away like a spooked animal, heat gathering in your cheeks as you turn back around to your abandoned coffee. You don’t look into her face, too fearful of the expression you might find there.

There’s a brief pause. You can feel her eyes on your back; her presence behind you is nothing but a beacon to your weary heart. “Is everything alright?” she asks gently, concern lacing her voice just as you knew it would. Because Cordelia cares and loves and gives, no matter if she has anything left to offer. She is an angel and you are a street urchin, unloved and unwanted, insignificant and so very small where she is larger than life. She is your lighthouse at sea and you are the ship determined to crash into her shore even as she wards you away with beams of light and warnings as if to say, “Go, go on, you don’t belong here.”

You clutch at your coffee cup, empty still, and will your heart to stop beating so damn loud lest she hears it. “I can’t get you out of my head. Did you know that you live there? Do you know that I love you, love you, love you?” you think, but don’t say. “Just couldn’t sleep,” you mutter instead.

“You know you can talk to me, right, sweetheart?” Cordelia’s voice is closer now, husky and warm like a late-night campfire. Your body erupts in goosebumps at the sound of it so close to your ear. Her presence is warm against you as her arm reaches over your shoulder to the cabinet door, the action causing her breasts to press into your shoulder blades. Long, slender fingers reach for a coffee cup and you watch them intensely, aching, always aching. “Sweetheart?” She probes gently. Her lips brush your ear.

“I know,” you manage to whisper though the words come out shaky and you’re not sure the voice is your own. You will your body to move, but you are frozen in place. You are a statue at a museum for others to gawk and point at, for them to whisper around because you can’t tell anyone what they’re saying anyway. You are not a witch standing in the kitchen with your Supreme pressing you against the counter. You are not a girl hopelessly in love with the woman who saved her. You are not worthy. You are a statue.

A hand cups your cheek and turns your face so that you’re looking deeply into the most beautiful eyes of molten chocolate you have ever seen, and as they soften, as Cordelia looks at you like you are a seashell she found washed up along her shore, dirty and covered in sand but no less precious, you realize you might not be worthy in your eyes, but maybe you are worthy in hers. And for the first time since you met Cordelia and fell for her kind, sweet, beautiful nature, you feel hope bloom in your chest like the first flower in springtime. Just a sliver, but it is enough.

“I’m in love with you,” you whisper brokenly, uneven, trembling in her arms, the last leaf clinging to an autumn tree. Will I fall? You wonder. Will she catch me?

“I know,” she whispers back, her voice equally soft. Her thumb glides along the apple of your cheek and you can feel the cold metal of her rings pressing into your skin. Her eyes are warm, so warm you feel like you’re drowning in them. They dart between yours, shining brightly in the darkness of the kitchen. The moonlight turns the blonde hair curling around her shoulders into a beautiful silver sheen. She is ethereal. God, how you love her.

Her words finally register through the thick fog that currently surrounds your head. “You knew?” You stutter out, eyebrows pinching together as you search her face for a sign of disgust.

Cordelia nods, the corners of her mouth curling into a fond, loving smile. For you. “You’re not exactly subtle, sweetheart,” she teases, and a part of you relaxes because she knows you love her and she’s teasing you and her hands are still on your face and you hope, hope, hope. She tilts her head, searching your eyes, your heart, your soul. Her voice is tender, low, and loving when she speaks. “Did you know that I love you, Y/N?”

The breath knocks from your lungs and you’re left reeling, your eyes wide like a child’s. “What?”

“You heard me,” she responds simply. Her fingers curl around the back of your neck.

“But I’m not-” you begin to protest, but stop when her eyes harden, her eyebrows drawn together and determined. Worthy. Important. Deserving.

“You are,” Cordelia insists, watching as tears form in your eyes. She tightens her grip, leans down to bring you eye to eye. “You are everything to me.” She presses her forehead against yours. You can feel her breath on your lips. “Everything.”

Your heart does not ache.

It hopes.

Cordelia smells like the greenhouse, like flowers, like roses and daffodils and the sun, and you want to plant a seed in her heart so a tree can bloom from your love together. You reach up, hesitant, still trembling, and cup her face in your hands. Her cheeks are soft silk beneath your fingertips. She is porcelain but you know she will not break. “It’s okay,” she whispers against your mouth. “It’s okay.”

And then she kisses you.

Your heart is alive.

Your eyelashes flutter closed as you press against her, her hold on you tight and solid. Her hands are gentle, so gentle, always gentle as they grab you by your waist and lift you onto the counter. The action causes you to gasp into her mouth, her tongue sliding between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, fisting your hands into her hair, pulling her closer so that you can feel all of her and nothing else. She pulls away to breathe, but doesn’t stop kissing you. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she murmurs against your mouth. Over and over again, once between each kiss she presses there, an offering for a goddess. For you.

“Show me,” you plead, your face wet with tears you don’t remember shedding. You clutch onto her like a lifeline as her lips find your cheek, your eyelids, your nose. You want to crawl into her heart and make a home there. Your mantra is a soft echo around the room: “Delia, Delia, Delia.”

Her hands cup your face tenderly. She looks into your eyes, her lips curling into your favorite smile. The one she reserves just for you and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. “Do you believe me now?” she asks.

A smile comes unbidden to your face. You can’t help it. Not with her looking at you like you are the world. “Yes.” Your breath shudders as it leaves your lips. You reach up, brush your nose along hers, your eyelashes fluttering as your lips graze. Your hands are shaking as you reach for the collar of her dress. With a flick of your fingers, you manage to undo the topmost button, the one right above her clavicle. You ease the material down her neck, your fingers gliding along her throat as more skin is revealed. She hums under her breath, the vibrations purring against your fingertips.

“I love you,” you whisper before you lean forward, press your mouth against her skin, and feel her life thrum beneath your lips.

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fic #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #ahs fic #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story coven #cordelia foxx imagine #cordelia goode imagine #wlw fic #wlw imagine #cordelia x reader

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: blood, biting, mind control, but it’s all very minor.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A/N: This is my first time making a header of sorts for my fics! I quite liked how this one turned out.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

The manor was always cold. Not that you minded much, but sometimes the ever-present chill in the air drove away your guests. Again, you didn’t mind all too much. Guests were never your forte. But he, well. He was always different.

“Your Grace?” Your lady in waiting, Camille, came into your study, bowing her head down. “You have a visitor.”

“Is it his visiting day already?” You asked, checking your date book.

Camille nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It is.”

You smiled, putting down your pen and moving from out behind your desk. “Thank you kindly Camille. Send him to the sitting room and inform him I shall be down momentarily.”

Camille left, and you hummed to yourself, straightening out your papers and setting your pen back down next to its respective inkwell. As you worked, you reminisced on the day you had met your favorite human being.

Two years prior

You sighed, listening to the rain slam against the windows as you worked on a few neglected pieces of paperwork. It was mostly finances, but it all had to be done, and so you were doing it. Tonight was supposed to be horribly rainy, with scattered thunderstorms and no sign of stopping until the sun rose. You didn’t mind. It made hunting harder, but you didn’t need to hunt for a while.

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up your study, and you finally shut your accounting book, deciding your work could wait until after the storm passed. You stood, pushing your chair back in. Office work was annoying at best. You’d much rather see people in person, share a cup of tea, and continue to build your reputation as the mysterious gothic Duke/Duchess who lived almost entirely alone. But paperwork, it seemed, was easier to send, and it meant most people could avoid your often intimidating presence.

“Camille!” You called through the manor, shutting and locking the study. “Camille?” Usually your lady in waiting was somewhere nearby, working on her own work within earshot. But now, you had to tune your hearing up past what was normal to hear Camille’s pattering heartbeat and nervous breaths. Why was Camille nervous? She’d been serving the manor for three years, she’d stopped being nervous in the old building last year.

“Camille!” You shouted, moving towards the sitting room she was inhabiting, worried for her safety. She should’ve alerted you immediately to a guest, and you were starting to grow concerned. Her heart rate spiked, only for a moment, and you heard her rushing footsteps coming towards you.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Camille asked, rounding the corner and looking up at you through her eyelashes. “You called?”

You nodded, dialing back your hearing so Camille’s close voice didn’t overwhelm you. “Have we got a visitor?”

Camille bowed her head, nodding slightly. “I was just setting him up in the sitting room,” she said quickly. “I was about to come get you as soon as he was settled.”

Smiling at the reassurance, you began to walk to the sitting room, where Camille had just come from. “Walk with me,” you said, and Camille hurried after you. “Is the man lost?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said, walking a pace behind you. “He said his car broke down and he saw the manor. He asked for shelter from the storm.”

“How is he?” You asked, already envisioning the man settled in your sitting room. “Healthy?”

Camille nodded, her face going pale. “Yes, Your Grace,” she responded. “He’s young and seemingly in good health.”

The sitting room doors came into sight, and you smiled, turning to Camille. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Camille responded, glancing at the ornate silver-backed mirror in the hall. Only she showed up, standing beside the silhouette of your clothes. You straightened your collar, running your fingers over the two neat lines of shining buttons before adjusting your gloves and pushing the sitting room door open.

Immediately, you noticed the smell. Deep and foreign, you had to dial your senses back further than you normally would to stand it. Leather and cologne and a deep internal lust mixed with the smell of the city. He was from New York City, you could practically taste it on him. He looked odd, but no odder than you, decked in all black and leather, every bit of metal on him glimmering in the low lamplight as he moved. You took a breath, but no silver. You were safe.

Looking the man up and down, you tried to silently determine whether he was one of you. You knew that the younger generation preferred to stay in cities, and called themselves goth in order to maintain the aesthetic. But despite his unique, timeless features, the man smelled organic and human, and you could hear his heart beating, a steady constant in the back of your hearing.

Your guest stood, and you smiled politely. “Welcome,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the manor myself.”

The man smirked, looking you up and down. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” You sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, crossing your legs and gesturing for your guest to sit beside you. “Family estate. Would you like a fire?” You noticed the man was wet, and you assumed he’d been caught in the storm.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” the man agreed, and you gestured Camille over.

“Camille, would you mind starting a fire?” You asked. “And when you’re done, I would love some tea.”

Camille nodded, exiting the room and leaving you alone with your guest.

“May I have your name?” You asked politely, turning your full attention to the man.

He nodded. “You can call me Dio.”

“Dio.” The name turned over like a fine wine on your tongue. “A bit of a presumptuous nickname, don’t you think?”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, in a tone that told you he knew exactly what you meant.

You stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “I mean, calling yourself a god. Albeit in a different language, but still. Even I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Even you?” Dio questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Explain.”

“Well.” You gestured around at the ornate sitting room, at the dark embroidered seat cushions and the deep wooden surfaces surrounding you. “It does seem rather on brand for someone of my status, does it not?”

Dio’s smirk returned. “Of course,” he said, digging through his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “Instead you call yourself Duke/Duchess.”

“It would be improper of me to not,” you pointed out. “It is, in fact, my title. You, however, have no title, Shane Morrissey.”

Dio’s face went pale and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers, hitting the carpet below his feet with almost no noise. “How-“

At that moment, Camille pushed the door open, rolling in a cart with firewood and a tea tray. While she busied herself with the fire, you sat back down, taking Dio’s cigarette from the floor, lighting it on Camille’s match and handing it back to the stunned man. “I usually don’t allow guests to smoke,” you said casually. “But I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once.” You pushed an ashtray across the table, smiling. “You were saying?”

Dio blinked, wide eyed. “How do you know-“

“Your name?” You finished for him, accepting an empty teacup from Camille and nodding to her when she set the tray on the table and left once more. “I could see your identification card in your pocket when you reached for your cigarettes. But if you would prefer to be referred to as Dio, I will do so.”

Dio seemingly relaxed. But he was still on edge as you poured yourself some tea.

“It’s a lovely black currant tea, if you’re interested,” you said, not even looking up as you poured the thick black tea into your cup. “I see Camille brought two cups.” As you spoke, you took the cream jug and poured a splash into your tea, setting the jug aside from the rest of the set. “I promise it isn’t poison,” you added sweetly, taking a sip of your tea.

Despite your humorous remark, Dio still seemed cautious, waiting until you had taken a sip to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t add sugar, simply sat back and cradled the cup in his hands. You wondered if he was still cold. But the fire was going and you could feel it warming your skin, even if the feeling of warm and cold were long since lost to you.

“So, Dio,” you said, watching Dio take a sip of his tea. “You live in the city, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Dio’s voice was guarded, hesitant. He was scared of you.

You hummed, nodding to yourself. “I haven’t seen the city,” you admitted. “Do you enjoy it?”

Dio shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You sighed. “Dio,” you said firmly, forcing his attention to snap to you. “Do I scare you?”

“What?” Dio asked, surprised. “I mean.” His eyes went glassy as you waved your hand, forcing him to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Dio’s hand shook, spilling tea over his skin. “I-“ he faltered, blinking a few times, face pulling tight. “I don’t know.”

You waved your hand again, releasing Dio from your hold. “Maybe I should explain,” you said, standing and setting your cup down. “I am (F/N) (L/N), sole heir to my name and the last remaining Duke/Duchess of this land. I have held my title and estate for over twelve decades, and I am a vampire.”

Dio was silent, so silent you had to wonder if you had broken him. But eventually, he nodded slowly, setting his cup down. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“You’re not dreaming,” you added helpfully. “Nor is this a hallucination caused by the tea.”

“Yeah,” Dio agreed quietly. “What about Camille, is she?”

“Oh of course not!” You said, sitting back beside Dio and picking up your cup again. “No, we don’t keep preternatural staff anymore. Her family has been in service to my family since long before I was born, and she seemed happy enough to have the job once I reached out. I do pay quite well.”

“Anymore?” Dio wondered out loud. “Tell me more about vampires. I want to know.” He leaned forward in his seat, and you grinned. It was rare you revealed yourself to a guest and were met with anything less than terror. But Dio seemed downright enthused. So you poured yourself a new cup of tea, adding a generous amount of cream this time, letting Dio see that it was not cream, but blood.

“Well. Where to start?” You mused. “I come from a long line of vampires, one of the longest in fact. My family, my bloodline if you will, was once well respected, but during the witch hunts, most of my kind died out. My mother survived and lived in this manor, alone, for centuries until she found me. I was lost, a wandering child, and she took me in and cared for me, turning me when the time was right.”

“So where is she?”

“Long dead,” you said, peeling your gloves off and setting them aside. “I’ve been the master of this estate for, oh, I guess it must be almost ninety years now. Yes, I inherited it during the depression.”

Dio nodded, his cigarette long since forgotten in the ashtray. “So, how do you survive? How much blood do you need? Are you like Dracula? Do you have any powers? What-“

“Dio!” You cut him off with a raised hand and a chuckle. “I cannot possibly answer your every burning question right now.” You stood, looking out over the storm, which was fading. “Here. Let us make a deal. I will send you home safely, with no complications, and in turn, I will entertain you once a month, on the first Saturday, and I will answer one question. Only one, until you are satisfied.”

Dio nodded, glancing out the window. “How do I know you aren’t just messing with me about the vampire thing?” He asked softly.

You smiled. “Come with me.”

He followed you out into the hall, where you guided him to the mirror just outside the sitting room. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the mirror. “It’s an old heirloom. Silver-backed, so I don’t appear in its surface.”

Dio gently reached out, touching the mirror with feather-light fingers. “You’re not,” he breathed. “It’s real.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Now, get going Dio. I’ll see you in one month. Don’t be late.”

Two years later

You opened the sitting room doors, seeing Shane sitting in his usual spot, right by the fireplace. He was already cradling his teacup, your cup sitting on the table, perfectly set up to your liking.

“Shane!” You said happily, and Shane stood, allowing you to hug him tightly. “You’re on time.”

“When am I not?” Shane asked, pulling away and sitting back down. “Shall we?”

You laughed. “We shall.”

Your cup was full to the brim of blood, no tea this time. It was a feeding day, and as much as you hated it, Shane promised he didn’t mind.

“Actually,” you decided, setting your cup down without taking a sip. “Perhaps we should do this a different way.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, worried. “Did I make it wrong? Camille brought me the teapot. She said it was your favorite.”

You shook your head. “No Shane,” you said. “You’re perfectly good. In fact.” You stood, offering him your hand. “You’re more than good.”

Standing, Shane let you lead him to the window, looking out over your night-darkened estate. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want some stranger’s blood,” You purred softly, pushing Shane’s shirt collar down. “I want you, Shane. I want to taste you on my tongue, to have your life filling my belly and making me warm.”

Shane gulped, his skin heating. “Really?”

“Would I lie?” You asked, almost pouting. “My love, I would never. Say the words, and I will make you feel amazing.”

Nodding, Shane put a hand to the window to brace himself. “I give you permission,” he said, voice wavering. “You may feed from me.”

You smiled, putting your mouth to his neck and kissing, trailing to the perfect spot. He shivered, moaning softly when you nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. Curving your lips up at the shameless sounds you were eliciting from Shane, you finally found the sweet spot and dug your fangs in.

If you thought Shane was vocal when you were just teasing, you were in for a surprise. As you lapped at the blood pooling on Shane’s skin, he writhed under you, moaning and breathlessly whining your name, both hands pressed fully to the window to keep stable. You licked a warm stripe up the curve of Shane’s neck, chuckling as he breathed heavily. “Do you like that, my love?”

“Yes,” Shane gasped out. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.”

You hummed, running a finger through the smeared blood and turning Shane around so he could see you suck his blood off your finger. “You taste exquisite,” you moaned around your finger. “So perfect.” You moved in again, licking up the last of the blood.

Shane breathed loud against you, his breath disturbing your hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “More,” he begged as you pulled away. “Please.”

“No more my love,” you said, wiping your mouth on a nearby towel. “I will not push you, especially on your first feeding.” You gently pressed the towel to Shane’s skin, occasionally pulling it away and checking on the wounds. Two perfect little puncture holes, still seeping the tiniest bit, marred Shane’s smooth skin. “I’ll call Camilla, have her clean you up properly.”

While you two waited for Camilla, you lay beside the fireplace, Shane laying in your lap as you held a book, reading aloud to him and stroking gently through his hair.

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal.” You smiled, flicking the page and watching Shane’s eyes slide closed. “Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat,” you read softly, urging Shane to sleep, to rest as you read.

Camille came in, carrying a tray of healing supplies. You gestured for her to leave them on the table, and she did, smiling at the sight of Shane in your lap before she ducked out of the room.

“My love?” You asked, laying the book down and grabbing the bandages. “My love, may I see your neck?”

Shane reflexively turned, showing you the side of his neck you’d fed from. You carefully dressed the wound, humming to yourself as you did so.

“I never got a question today,” Shane murmured, startling you.

“Oh.” You set down the roll of bandages, carding through Shane’s hair again. “What do you wish to ask today?”

Shane leaned into your hands, grinning slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked softly. “In a strictly non-vampire way.”

You smiled, nodding. “Of course, my love,” you answered. “Of course.”

As Shane’s eyes fluttered shut once more, you picked up the book, determined to finish at least this chapter. With Shane in your embrace and the warmth of the fire surrounding you, you continued to read your newly christened boyfriend to sleep. “I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with a beating heart.”

#NYPD Blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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hops-hunny · 3 years

Text

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None for this chapter!

A/N: Nothing major happens in this chapter, this is sorta just like the beginning stages.

(Y/n) let out a load groan, hand searching aimlessly for the alarm clock on her side table. “Where is it?!” she continued to slap her hand around on her table, many objects falling to the floor before her hand finally landed on the right one, the rooster noises ceasing as her hand collided with the big snooze button. She rolled over, sighing as she stared at her speckled ceiling. “Perhaps I really should take the time to learn how to use the alarm on my phone.” it wasn’t that she was bad with technology persay. It’s just if it was produced after the year of 2008 you could forget it. Could you really blame her though? During all her years at Hogwarts, she had never made the switch her fellow classmates made with modern technology. Sure she had a smart phone but the only thing she could manage to do with it is call, text, and make notes in the notes app (something she had just recently learned as well).

Unwillingly, she crawled out of bed, stretching as she let out a large yawn, bones snapping and cracking like a New Year’s firework. She made her way to the bathroom, looking into the same mirror she always did, watching the light in the center flicker the same way as always. Life for (Y/n) was seemingly unchanging. Day after day, month after month, was spent exactly the same. She’d wake up, get ready for work, and then travel a few blocks down the street to open the bakery. Her bakery.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) didn’t enjoy what she did. She happened to enjoy her job very much. All her friends at Hogwart’s had encouraged her, giving her the push she need to travel the journey of opening her own business. It was something she had always wanted to do but her parents begged her not to. In their words they didn’t want ‘an over zealous and unrealistic’ daughter on ther hands. However, their rude words simply were fuel to the fire. During her 5th year, she began to busk tables at various shops in Hogsmeade. It was hard work, balancing long shifts at 3 different shops and still maintaining decent scores in each class. But, she knew if she couldn’t handle that then there was no way she’d be able to handle running a bakery. So day in and day out she’d work, and work, and work and by the end of her 7th year she had a decent amount of money saved up!

The first issue had been finding a place in a good area that would gain traction and attention while the second one was finding someone willing to sell to someone fresh out of school with no prior business experience. She’d spoken to many people in various different places, some good, and some bad before she finally had been blessed with the chance of meeting Mary and her wife Denise. It was a miracle really. (Y/n) was short on the money, exponentially so however, Mary had sold to her anyways. She said she saw a passion in the girl that she hadn’t seen for a very long time and that it was something she wanted to help foster considering she had had her time to live her dreams and explore passions of her own. So with that, a handshape was exchanged for a beat up envolope filled with the entirety of the girl’s life savings. She had invested every nickel and dime she had ever earned into the place and she prayed it wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Which brought her to where she was today: a proud owner of a highly successful business. And of course, with great business comes a nice chunk of money which caught her parents’ attention. They had began to call her everyday but when that they didn’t work, they showed up at her shop unannounced. At first, she had felt warm inside. Her usual cold and distant parents had come to visit her! However, when they started crunching out numbers and percentages, that short lived happiness was replaced by irritation in which she quickly kicked them out, placing a charm on the building that when they’d attempt to enter (if they really, truly, had the balls to come back), their bodies would be flung right back onto the sidewalk into the heaping piles of trash on the city side walks. Now, (Y/n) was by no means wealthy, but she made a nice amount of money to be engaging in something she enjoyed so heavily, which is why she was confused where they had gotten the idea she had money to share with the main two people who were the cause of her insecurities. Plus, every extra dollar she had she put right back into the shop. Paying her workers, building maintenance, ingredients. She wasn’t a fan of having too much money, her family had shown her what that could cause (and how easily you could lose it all).

Yet still sometimes she found herself wishing she could live the lavish lifestyle her parents once did. She mainly dreamed more so of the more engaging parts instead of the status and power that came with it. As she frosted various different cakes with thick buttercream, her mind would wonder to vivid imagery of beautiful hotel rooms, with breath taking views. Michelin five star meals, coated in delicious cream sauces. Endless adventure waiting to be discovered.

And yet here she was, sitting at a table as she stuffed her face with a raspberry marzipan cupcake. It was a Wednesday, first one of the month and as per usual, her and Twyla were set together, sampling cakes, chocolates, and other treats for the upcoming days. Wednesday had been the official day they had chosen due to the slowed flow of people that would come in. (Y/n) liked to have a different theme each day of the week. The customers lived for it and she had massed a group of frequenters who came each day, wondering what the theme would be that day.

“You know boss, I’ve gotta say it. Working here and sampling all these cakes with you is giving me quite the ass!” Twyla said, turning around as she wiggled her ass in the girl’s face for emphasis. (Y/n) giggled, rolling her eyes as she swatted at the girl, missing as she jumped away from her last minute. “Hey! You gotta take me out to dinner first for that.”

“Just because we’re sampling cakes doesn’t mean that the store is closed! Anyone could walk in at any moment and would you really want that to be their first experience here?” she asked, eyes scanning the silver platter in front of them. She decided on the new dessert flavored chocolates she had been working on. Popping it into her mouth, she let out a moan of approval.

“I mean, I dont’ see why not! We’d definitely make a lot more money with a cake like mine!” the blue haired girl said, sitting down as she grabbed a chocolate as well. “Besides, I don’t think those little noises you’re making would help the scene.” she stated, snickering as the girl across from her tensed up.

“It-it’s not like that! The chocolate- it just- I just- ugh!” she stuttered out, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the girl. “If you’re gonna keep being mean we can end this process. Just tell me what you think of the blueberry pie chocolate so I can know if we’re adding it to tomorrow’s spread.”

“Oh come on (Y/n) it’s good! Every first Wednesday we sit here, you overly critique yourself, then me and Tiana end up picking out our favorites for the next day!” Twyla was right, even their patterns for trying new things remained the same. (Y/n) wiped her messy hand on her aprons, sighing as she stood up to go back to her position behind the counter. Her employee followed, grabbing the platter to put back into the kitchen before joining her boss behind the counter.

“You’re right. I swear everyday is beginning to feel the same.” She opened her notepad, beginning to take inventory of the sweets they had in the display counter. “I’m grateful for everything I have, I really am. But sometimes I just wish I could have something, anything….”

“New?” the green eyed girl added, catching the (h/c) haired girl’s attention. She nodded, looking at the girl who had snuck a cookie out of the glass case. “I feel ya, girl. Everyday feels the same. Sometimes even when new people come in, I can already tell how they’re going to be. How they’ll act, what they’ll order, what method of payment they’ll use.” (Y/n) eyed the girl up, raising a brow.

“Are you sure you’re not just using legilimens?” she questioned, watching as the girl shifted on her feet, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay so maybe I do sometimes. But a lot of the times I don’t! Like the other day this weird guy came in and- woah. (Y/n) I don’t wanna freak you out but I have a feeling those hotties in suits across the street are going to be walking in here soon.” Twyla said, in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. The shorter girl followed her friend’s gaze, looking out the glass doors across the street. Three unfamiliar men were crossing over, all in suits that she could only assume cost as much as four months of rent. However, the one in the middle really caught her eye.

Before she knew it, the bell chimed and the three of them made their way in. They looked very out of place in the brightly decorated shop. The one in the middle looked the most important, towering over the other two men. He had dark slicked back hair, an eyebrow piercing, and tattoos that were visible on his neck and hands (which had a few beautiful looking rings on them (none of which were a wedding band…)), yet his hazel eyes held a soft look to them. To his left was a redhead boy, freckles danced all along his face. His eyes were bloodshot from god knows what. He had tattoos as well (not as many as the middle man) and a few unique ear piercings. The guy to the hot tall guy’s right was attractive too but not nearly as serious looking as the other two. In fact, he was humming a song under his breath, a smile causing the tattoo on the right side of his face to crease.

As she went to open her mouth to greet them, the man in the middle eye’s grew wide, his mouth gaping as he stared at her. He walked closer, examining her face closely which caused her to grow confused.

“I’m...I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked.

“(Y/n)?” she gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, her notepad and pen dropping from her hands. She made her way around the counter, staring up at the tall man.

“Neville?!”

NEXT||

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

#neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #Neville Longbottom #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #mafia #mafia!neville #mafia!au

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years

Text

Burnt Toast:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Word Count: 4,226

Characters: Polly Gray + The Shelby Siblings x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @atjafshelby, I hope you like it love!

Summary: After seeing her family turn to a life of crime, one incident causes Y/N to finally leave Small Heath in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the Shelby name. But when the family makes a sudden appearance after years of no contact, she soon realizes she’s not the only one with news to bear.

“Kids! Breakfast is ready!” Shouted Y/N from the kitchen, the smell of toast and crackling bacon snaking it’s way through the two story town house in the middle of suburban Manhattan. The sight of the meal reminding her of home when she’d help cook, practicing her craft until she rarely made burnt toast. The voice of her aunt telling her how long to toast it so it would be perfect, even if the family eating it was far from so.

As she prepared the table, the scurrying of little feet pattering away on the floorboards filled the room as they sprinted down the lavish hall. Giggles erupting as two bright eyed girls climbed into their seats.

“Now girls, you both have to get ready quickly today alright? I have some errands to run.” Y/N said, placing a mug of coffee in front of herself. Heavy footsteps came trotting down the stairs as her husband, a man of status in the banking industry, waltzed into the room.

“Morning love. I have to go in early today. Are you sure you and the girls are okay?” He asked, adjusting his tie.

“Yes, I’m going to take them with me. I have some...personal matters to attend to.” She said, her tone dropping slightly as the girls played with their food.

“I know plenty of children back home who’d love to eat what you’re playing with, now stop it...” She said sternly, memories of her mother swatting her hand when she’d go to eat with her fingers instead of the silverware.

“Is it your family again?” He asked, brushing a stray hair from her face as he sat down next to her.

“Yes.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee as her hands shook, the anxiety of ever seeing them again gnawing at her brain.

It seemed like only yesterday that it happened. Her younger brothers running out of the old shop in Small Heath to go on a another mission after their fathers business had been left on their shoulders after the war. The sight later that night making her swear off violence all-together.

Her younger brothers had a knack for messing with the wrong people, even before the war changed them. John was the feisty one, always rough-housing with the boys and bullies on the streets, always pestering her and Ada as they chased rats through town. “I’m trying to help you defend yourself sis! Don’t be such a baby!” He’d say after tackling her to the ground where she’d cry and hesitate to fight back, Ada always punching him in the shoulder to stop as their aunt Polly would come running out of the house with the Devil in her eyes.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, Y/N. Too sweet to be a Shelby.” Polly would say while bandaging any cuts or scrapes.

“You sure as hell didn’t get it from your father...” She’d say, looking at the oldest Shelby girl with a mixture of awe and pity. Y/N resembled her mother more often than not, her temper only shining through in certain situations. But she never thought she’d lose it like she did that night.

It was the night of her first real date, Polly helping brush her hair as she flipped through an old book she’d found in their house.

"That Tommy’s?” Polly would ask, looking at the cover to see a horse running wild in a field.

“Yeah.” She’d say, wishing she could be free like the horse.

“Where are you meeting this young man, Y/N?” Polly asked after a moment of silence.

“The pub down the road.” She said shortly. She remembered Polly’s grip on her hair tightening at the mention of it.

“Ow! What is it?” She asked yanking herself free and turning to look at her aunt.

“D-don’t go. Please don’t.” She said, a fearful look in her eyes.

“Why? Arthur, Tommy, and John get to go anywhere in town and I can’t?!” She said, angrily putting her hair up herself and adjusting her dress.

“It’s not safe...” Polly said, walking down the hall.

“Right...so you want to lecture me on what’s safe because I’m so nice aye? What do you fucking see in me anyway?” She asked loudly. She never really raised her voice to Polly, fearing her to a slight degree. But as her younger brothers went out on business more often, she was practically shoved away, only being able to see Ada and Finn even though she was the oldest.

Polly’s eyes welled up with tears as she spoke.

“I see hope for this god-forsaken family. You have more control over yourself than I care to admit and I can’t bare to see you squander it all away by becoming one of them. You should live for yourself, at least then one of us in this family would be doing something good for a change.” She said, sauntering off into the kitchen.

“Tommy’s planning something isn’t he? That’s why you don’t want me to go on the date.” She said, following her into the kitchen with tears in her eyes. Even if she was older than Arthur by two years, he and the rest of them never stopped being over-protective.

“Yes.” Was all Polly said before Y/N ran out the door. If she wanted her to live for herself then she was going to do as she pleased. She was tired of being seen as some family secret, some mystery sibling that was different. She never liked the violence she grew up in but was that such a crime? To know how to not hurt people? To be able to know when to call it quits? These were thoughts she still struggled with as she looked at her two little girls getting up from the table and racing up the stairs. Their hair wild and smiles a mile long. Carefree like she always dreamed of being, and like most of her aunts family always claimed to be.

“I want you girls ready in 10 minutes!” Y/N yelled as the girls moved about upstairs, her husbands voice breaking her from her thoughts.

“Well I’m off love. I’ll see you all at my lunch break.” He said, kissing her goodbye and heading off to his ordinary job. Despite him being successful and full of money himself, she couldn’t shake the fact that they led very different lives before they met. He’d go off to college while she stayed and helped Polly with Finn, and Ada occasionally staying to help as she was always wanting to be out and about. While he grew up with a silver spoon, she grew up with rusted broken ones. She couldn’t for the life her know why he chose her, maybe it was luck? But nevertheless they worked out together and she was grateful no matter how many times her past haunted her.

As she cleaned up the kitchen, she fell back onto the memories from years ago. Her heart still aching like it was yesterday.

Remembering herself sprinting towards the pub where her new date had agreed to meet her, seeing a rowdy group of men near the entrance. The sharp sound of bottles breaking and slurs being spewed as she warily made her way over. Her eyes landed on her date and her stomach dropped. Arthur was holding him by the neck as Tommy pulled off his cap, slashing the mans face open in one fell swoop.

Y/N’s screams soon pierced the air as she saw him fall limp to the ground, Tommy finishing him off with a harsh twist of his neck.

The blinders all looked up to see their older sister just mere feet away from their mess. Without thinking, she ran over to the man she had grown to know, his face almost unrecognizable after what they’d done to him. As she cradled him, her eyes blurred with tears as her brothers stood in silence, the rain washing the mans blood off Tommy and Arthur’s hands as they waited for her to speak.

“Tommy...” She said, seeing red as she started at the man she once knew, lying dead on the cold pavement.

Her brother walked over, a tired look in his eyes as he crouched down to her level and put his cap back on.

“We had to do it Y/N...” He said, trying to reach for her hand.

Without warning she slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster. Her hand stinging with the impact.

Polly came running in the distance, stopping near John who’d been holding his rifle as he sat against the wall of the pub.

As she got up, she wiped the blood on her clothes as she stared down her brother. A red handprint forming on his cheek as she neared him. With one hand she took his arm and with the other she grabbed Arthur’s hand, leading them near Polly and John.

“I knew him you know. How was he so bad that you had to kill him? Why was this part of your fucking plan?!” She yelled as they all looked at her with sorry expressions.

“He was working with Kimber’s men. Remember him?” John asked.

She got closer to John as she spoke, her arms folded in frustration.

“No John. I don’t remember. I wasn’t part of the family meetings...remember that?” She asked, knowing they always kept her, Ada, and little Finn in the dark ‘for their safety.’

“He was bad Y/N...” Tommy said, sticking a cigarette in his mouth.

“Like you all are any better. You didn’t even know him!” She shouted.

“Y/N love, please calm down. We had leads on him. He was trying to get with ya in order to get to us.” Arthur said.

“No...he wouldn’t.” She said, shaking her head as her tears fell.

“He did. Not everyone has a good heart like yours alright?” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette.

“You know what? Fuck the lot of you!” She yelled, her eyes boring into Tommy’s specifically.

“I can’t even look at you all anymore. You took away my one shot at meeting someone that wasn’t associated with this family and you all ruined it. You all ruined everything I’ve ever tried to do and here I am, the oldest fucking Shelby and I can’t even leave me own house.” She said, giving a side eye to Polly. As she spoke she remembered her aunts words, her eyes tearing up as she spat out her frantic goodbyes.

“You know what? I’m listening to what you said Pol. I’m going to go live for myself and I don’t want any of you to come for me. I can’t stand to be around any of ya. Goodbye.” She said, walking through the familiar dark streets for what felt like the last time.

“Mum? We’re ready!” She heard her oldest yell from the front door, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Alright, c’mere you.” She said, swooping her youngest up in her arms and walking out the door. As she walked with her oldest hand in hand they noticed the rain falling slightly as the city life bustled around them.

“I wish daddy didn’t take the car. He’ll be at his lunch break before we get there.” The oldest girl said, her white dress flowing in the wind.

“We’re going right up to the bank. He’ll be there. I promise.” She said, her nerves getting to her as they entered the tall building.

“I got a call about a check being sent from Polly Gray?” She asked the teller.

“Ah yes! Here you are. She also left a note.” She said, handing her the envelope.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the figures on the check, having to clutch the desk for support.

“Jesus fucking christ.” She said quietly.

“Jesus fuckin cwist!” Her youngest mumbled excitedly.

“Hey! We don’t say that.” She said smirking down at the little girl.

“Darling! Didn’t expect you to be here so early!” Her husband said as he stepped out of his office.

“This was uh...one of the errands. Can we go outside for a moment?” She asked.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her with concern.

“Oh um...it seems me aunt gave us a check for...$100,000.” She said.

“My god...you’re kidding. How did they get that kind of money?” He asked, even though they were well-off in New York it was still a shock, especially since the shop back home was far from successful all those years ago.

“Oh...you don’t want to know.” She said, her eyes scanning over the letter.

“Dear Y/N,

I know you don’t want to hear from any of us especially after so long, but we wanted to let you know we’re planning a visit to New York. We have some business to take care of and Tommy saw it best to come there personally. We’d love to meet up upon our arrival if you’d like. We have some unfortunate matters we’d like to discuss. In the meantime though, I wanted to gift you this check, seeing as we’ve come into more than enough good fortune over the years.

With love,

Aunt Pol”

“I have to get to a phone. Watch the girls please? I’ll be back.” She said, running inside the bank.

“What’s mummy doing?” Their oldest asked.

“Calling her family.” He said, holding her hand.

“She has a family? Like us but somewhere else?” She asked.

“Yeah...” He said, not knowing much about them as well. She’d kept that part of her life a secret for a while, but she’d let a few things slip every now and then, and she always got a check from Polly despite her refusing her help, but they never got one for this much before.

“Shelby Company Limited.” The woman said over the phone.

“Yes, this is Y/N...Y/N Johnson-I mean...Shelby. Y/N Shelby....is Polly there?”

“I’m sorry miss. The family has left for America, they’re expected in New York at noon.” She said.

“Alright, thank you.” She said, her watch ticked towards noon at a fast pace, knowing they’d be arriving soon.

“Girls were taking a trip. We uh...have to meet some of my family.” She said rushing out of the bank, scooping their youngest up in her arms with the others following.

“We need to get to customs, now.” She said, hurrying towards her husbands car.

Within the next 30 minutes they’d scrambled to get there, seeing the passengers get off the ship in groups. Her heart sped up as she saw her family, more dressed up now than before, but still the same tired features give or take Finn growing up before her eyes.

“Stay here you three. It’s going to be a moment.” She said, taking a shaky breath as she walked towards them.

“Y/N? Is that you?” She heard Polly call out. She stood frozen as they walked to her, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hello Polly.” She said with a small smile, her tears plummeting to the ground as she gave her a warm hug.

“Oi! Is that really you?! Look at ya!” Arthur said with a smile.

“Yeah it’s me. Same old Y/N.” She said, wiping her tears as her brother Tommy stared at her.

“Cat got your tongue brother?” She asked, he gave her a hug but it was half-hearted at best.

“Right...so what are you lot doing here aye? Why’d you send us all that money?” She asked looking at them, Tommy’s eyes were more dead than all those years ago. She couldn’t shake the feeling something had happened as Polly spoke.

“Can we talk about this somewhere private at least? We just got here love...” Polly said.

Y/N sighed as she turned to her little family, the ring on her finger glinting in the sun as she nodded.

“Of course...follow me. I uh, have some people I want you to meet.” She said.

“Y/N...” Polly said in a shocked whisper as she saw the two girls and her husband standing there looking at them with smiles on their faces.

“This is my husband. His name is Charles Johnson, he’s a banker in Manhattan. And these are our girls. Jane is 7, Polly is 3.” She said, picking the little girl up as she giggled and waved at them.

“You...you never told us you’d met someone. Never told us you’d gotten married...Never told us you had children...” Polly said, waving at the girls.

“Well the street goes both ways. Didn’t know you got married aye Tom...” She said nodding to him, he lit a cigarette as they walked ahead. The tension growing in the air as she nervously took her husbands hand.

“It’s complicated, but yes I did.” He said shortly, the smoke wafting through the air.

“No smoking...please.” She said, her girls looking curiously at the man with piercing blue eyes.

“You serious?” He asked.

“Yes, the girls don’t like it. You’re such a grump though love. You’ve turned into an old man, older than Arthur even. Jesus.” She said, none the wiser to what they’d all been through over the years. Tommy just nodded with a slight smirk, knowing his past couple years would’ve destroyed her.

As the Shelby’s made small talk with the little girls, Charles got them a ride to their house, the bustling city taking them a little bit by surprise.

“I don’t know how you live here. It’s hectic.” Polly said, sitting in a small armchair in their living room.

“Well you wanted me to live my life for me Pol. I came here and I loved it. Never saw a reason to move.” She said, pouring her a glass of wine.

“Anyone want a drink?” She asked as her worse-for-wear brothers sat around.

“Now there’s our sister. You got whiskey?” Arthur asked.

“Did you think I left all of Birmingham behind? Of course I do.” She said, pouring out a couple glasses and handing them out. Her husband taking one and giving her a small peck on the cheek, Tommy staring him down for a moment before she came to him with a glass.

“What kind?” Tommy asked before drinking it.

“Irish...what else would it be? You taught me that.” She said with a smirk.

“Right...” He said, fixing his golden glasses.

“So tell me, what’s life been like here? It seems...grand.” Polly said looking around the place as the girls ran around giggling.

“Jane! Polly! No running in the house...go out to the courtyard.” She said, taking a sip of her whiskey.

“You named the little one Polly? I’m touched.” She said, sipping her wine.

Y/N sighed before she spoke, her husband sitting near her on the large sofa, holding her hand as he knew she had some things to get off her chest.

“Look...I was....angry. I was angry at the world when I left and...I’ve held onto that for so long it’s eaten me up. I know you all don’t care for me now, hell I wasn’t invited to anything anyways, but I did the same. I did this for me. And I’m happy here. I’m happy with my children. I named her Polly because even though we wanted to rip each other’s throats out some days, you were the one that helped me realize who I wanted to be. You helped raise me and I couldn’t not name her after someone I loved dearly.” She said, the room falling silent.

“You want us to forgive you?” Tommy asked.

“No. Honestly Tommy I’m still trying to forgive you. It was because of you all that I watched you kill him. I moved here so you’d never take people away from me again, but no I’m not looking for forgiveness or anything, I just want it behind us.” She said finishing off her whiskey.

“That was for your protection, love. You can understand that now at least, since you have your own children now.” Polly said, clasping her hand over hers.

“I can. But I wouldn’t kill someone. That’s how we’re different. I’ve told Charles about it, because I’ve always been the nice one. He may think otherwise though.” She said smirking at her husband.

“But, I’ve tried to move on. I just want you all to know I’m happy and I’m honestly not that hurt by it anymore. I’m just plagued with the memories that’s all.” She said.

“What about back home? How’s Ada? I’m assuming she’s with her kid...Karl right?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. She has another on the way as well. Different father. Deceased though.”

“That’s too bad, I know she’s probably torn up, the poor thing. Give her a hug for me will ya? God I haven’t seen her in so long.” She said and Polly nodded.

“What about John? Where’s the cheeky bastard at anyway?” She asked. Polly teared up as Tommy held her hand, which he never did unless it was something important.

“He....he got shot. One of the mafias with a vendetta against us got him...it was recent enough that we figured we’d come to tell you.” He said.

“No.” She said, getting up quickly.

“No...no I-I said the most hateful things the last time I saw him. He can’t be...” She said as tears poured down her face.

“Hey....shh it’s alright darling.” Her husband said attempting to comfort her as she clung to him, her tears staining his expensive suit as Arthur and the rest looked away, their hearts growing heavy after re-hashing the news.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We couldn’t get to you in time for the funeral though, love.” Polly said, walking over.

“I have to sit down.” She said, her face paling as she sat on the sofa.

Her hands shook as she wiped her tears away. Polly kissed her forehead as she walked outside, observing the little girls as they played in the garden to keep from breaking down as well.

As Y/N settled down, she took another shot of whiskey, wincing at the burn of it going down. Since having her kids and working, she didn’t have as much time to drink, at least not like they did back home.

“I should’ve came back sooner...I-I should’ve written you all more often.” She said.

“Y/N that wouldn’t have changed much. We’re just happy you’re happy alright love?” Arthur said, patting her on the back.

“Yeah...” She said.

“Say...I know you all are tired. Would you all care to stay? We have enough room...” Charles asked as Polly walked in with the girls.

“Mum! Who that?” Little Polly asked in her sweet voice.

“Hello! Oh you silly girls! I hope you loved meeting Polly! These are your uncles, Arthur, Tommy, and Finn.” She said wiping her tears away as they came in, letting them walk over to them. Tommy smiled at them and put on his best kind expression, knowing how impressionable kids were.

“So uhm...Tommy do you have kids?” Y/N asked, circling back to the ring on his finger and trying to lighten the conversation.

“Yeah. I have a boy name Charlie, and a girl named Ruby. Charlie’s mum was uh...shot...by the mafia, Lizzie is well, she’s working at the office and helping with little Ruby.” He said.

“Shot! Jesus fuckin cwist!” Little Polly squealed out.

Y/N’s mouth dropped as she picked her up. Arthur and eventually everyone erupted in laughter.

“We do not say that Polly! Don’t repeat bad words!” Y/N scolded her, trying to hold back her own laugh in the process.

“I’m sorry about your first wife Tom...I’m also sorry little Polly over here has the mouth of a sailor.” She said playfully eyeing her daughter and giving her brother a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s alright love. Things happen aye?” He said, his heart still hurting after the loss, but warming at the sight of his little happy and not so nicely-mouthed nieces.

“Maybe we can visit the rest of the family sometime? I’m sure we can arrange that.” She asked looking at her husband.

“Of course! We’d um...we’d like that. Very much.” Polly said a genuine smile on her face as she watched her niece with her children.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well for yourself dear. Truly. We all are, and if we haven’t said it yet, welcome to the family Charles.” Polly said, shaking his hand.

“My offer still stands though by the way...” Charles said after a moment.

“What’s that aye?” Tommy asked, finally loosening up a bit.

“You all can stay here. You all aren’t the only ones with big houses you know. You’re family after all.” Y/N said.

“Well it’s not like we have anywhere else to go. What to do you say?” Polly asked, looking at Tommy. He smirked a bit before answering, Y/N could see the conditions he’d have with their stay floating around in his head.

“Alright...As long as we get to have the toast you always made. I’ve hired many a housemaid and none of them could make it like you do, they always burn it up.” He said.

She chuckled at the memory, always making a bunch of it in the mornings before they’d all go running off in the streets.

“Deal.” She said, giving him a small smile, knowing that even after all the years and all the losses, she knew she could never fully be away from family.

#atjafshelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshots #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #ada thorne #finn shelby #polly gray #michael gray #esme lee #esme shelby #shelby!sister #shelby!sister reader

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idreamofplaid · 4 years

Text

Finding Destiny

Square Filled: Plus Size for @spnkinkbingo & Late Presentation for @spnabobingo

Characters: alpha!Sam x omega!Reader; Madame Tremaine (OFC)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Y/N always felt like an Omega. Life told her otherwise, until tonight.

Word Count: 3027

Created for @spnkinkbingo & @spnabobingo

You smelled like a garden had exploded on you, a garden with some miscellaneous spices and nature smells. Truth was, you smelled like a mess, but you’d been desperate. Living as a Beta was like being invisible.

You were convinced it didn’t help that your body wasn’t fashion model thin, or thin at all for that matter, instead having generous soft curves in your breasts, hips, and thighs. You had spent the last ten years watching Alphas and Omegas pair up, claim each other, shower each other with their love, devotion, and commitment. It had left you feeling more and more lonely, and food was your coping mechanism. The result of that was more pounds added to a body you already thought was too large.

Meanwhile, with each passing year, you felt more and more like life was passing you by. You, too, wanted to be claimed. There were no Alpha tendencies in your makeup; you were sure you were an Omega. You longed to be cherished, protected, filled with pups. Your untapped maternal instincts were strong, and you wanted to have a mate, be a mate. The Beta lifestyle wasn’t yours, so how had you been born into it?

Initially, when your heat didn’t come. You were confused, followed by disappointed, then discouraged, and finally resigned. Periodically, throughout all these reactions, you were devastated. The devastation overtook you when you least expected it, and then mercifully would leave again so you could function and pretend to be a happy Beta. Had it stayed with you constantly, no doubt you would have fallen into a deep depression.

It was that unwanted and sometimes paralyzing sense of hopelessness which always returned due to your Beta status that had sent you to the establishment owned by Madame Tremaine. It was rumored that she could bring on a reluctant onset of the first heat. That’s what you were once again trying to convince yourself this was, abandoning your previous period of accepting your fate. That’s all it was, a delay. Your body just needed some encouragement, a little push to get your hormones in motion. That first heat was going to happen; it was just slow.

So, it was in that frame of mind that you entered her herb shop at the end of a narrow street in an unfashionable part of the city. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with glass jars of various sizes that contained materials of every description. Dried flowers hung from low hanging rafters, and a display case that was filled with what appeared to be rocks and gemstones ran the length of one wall.

The bell over the door had tinkled when you entered the shop, summoning Madame Tremaine from the rear room of the shop. She pushed aside a beaded curtain that hung in the doorway leading to the back. She sized you up, her eyes traveling over you from head to toe. You were wearing a full skirt and a peasant style blouse. It was a cute outfit, but you still felt inadequate and self conscious about your size. For a moment, you felt a little pathetic because you’d come here seeking her help at changing what nature, God, the universe, or whatever had decided should be your lot in life.

She was, of course, sleek and dressed all in form fitting black pants and a black shirt that emphasized her long, graceful arms and fingers. She had adorned those arms and fingers with turquoise rings and silver bangles, while large silver hoops hung from her ears. You were thinking of turning around and walking right back out when she said, “What brings you to see me tonight?”

You were determined not to stutter in spite of your nervousness. You could at least pretend to have a fraction of the confidence this woman so clearly possessed. “I’ve heard you can help Omegas with the onset of their first heat.”

She looked at you again. “How old are you?” You hesitated, not wanting to answer her question. You definitely should have left. This was so embarrassing. She lifted her chin and gave a wave of her hand, causing her bracelets to jingle. “Never mind. I’m sure I have what you need. It’s just a matter of finding the right combination of smells that compose your scent. Your body will then react with them and produce the scent on its own, triggering your first heat.”

For the next two hours, she had experimented on you with her herbs, flowers, and ground spices. She began with the flowers, explaining to you, “Very often an Omega’s scent includes a floral note. We only need to find the right one, then move on to the other elements.” It wasn’t tuberose, jasmine, violet, magnolia, or plumeria. She tried at least seven others before giving up on the flowers.

She moved to a particular row of jars with purpose. “Perhaps we should try something sweet instead.” The next round of fragrances she applied to your skin consisted of honey, vanilla, chocolate, coconut, sugar, and caramel. She was beginning to look a little perplexed, making you feel like a failure all over again. Not only were you unable to find a mate, now this wasn’t working either; but you needed it too. You felt like this was your last chance.

“How do you know it isn’t working, Madame?” You had absentmindedly grabbed your skirt and started to twist the fabric.

“Because I’m an Alpha; I could smell it if you were producing your own scent.” Of course she was an Alpha, all the confidence. Her tone had been a little sharper than she had intended. You were, after all, a paying customer. She shouldn’t let her frustration show. Madame softened her voice and tried a different approach. Perhaps you are a more rare type of Omega without the usual sweet or flowery smell. Let’s give something else a try.”

Next she went for a smaller set of jars that contained spices and pulled some tiny stone chips that were near a larger blue stone from the display case. First, she used a mortar and pestle to grind the stone chips then added some rosemary to the bowl, grinding it up as well, and finally sprinkling in some almond oil to bind it together. Your curiosity got the better of you and made you brave enough to ask, “Why did you add stones? They don’t smell.”

“Ah, but they do; it is just very subtle,” she answered, “and sometimes just the catalyst that is needed to activate the chemical process that will result in you producing your own scent.” She applied this mixture to the inside of your wrist. Still, the result was nothing. After that, she went through the motions of trying a few more things, but you knew with each passing minute this had been a huge waste of your hard earned money.

You left her store and practically slinked to your car, wanting nothing more than to get home to your favorite robe and a glass of red wine. When you closed the door with a heavy thud, your eyes landed on the gas gauge. Dammit. It was almost on empty. You wouldn’t make it home without stopping for gas. Perfect. There would be one more humiliation before this night was through. Gas stations in this part of town didn’t tend to carry out transactions through the pay at the pump method.

Perhaps your tendency to be invisible would play in your favor this time you thought as you pushed on the metal bar to open the glass door leading into the gas station. Your last shred of hope at maintaining your dignity had been destroyed when you’d pulled up to the pump and found a sign attached to it just as you’d expected. Pay Before You Pump. Now you had to go into this store smelling like a cheap whorehouse.

You made your way to the counter as quickly as you could, hoping to just put down your money, dash back outside again, get your gas, and go. You mumbled $30 on pump 3 and reached for your purse. That’s when you heard it, a voice that was just the right amount of deep and smoother than the honey back at Madame Tremaine’s shop. “Where are your apples?”

The guy behind the counter looked up reluctantly from his handheld video game. “We don’t have any. Sold the last of them this morning.” He turned his attention back to his game, and you turned to see who had spoken. What kind of face went with that voice?

The answer was the kind of face you saw on magazine covers and movie screens. The man with the sexy voice tried with the clerk again. “But I smell…” Then the gorgeous hazel eyes in that handsome face caught yours, and he tilted his head causing his golden brown hair to fall over his forehead. “It’s you.” His eyes narrowed a little.

Then something happened that had never occurred in your life. You were overcome by the smells of mahogany, champagne, and leather. The smell washed through you, entering every cell in your body, causing slick to pool in your panties, and your knees to go weak. You were beginning to sink to the floor.

The kid behind the counter finally put down his video game. “Lady, are you okay?” He was a Beta. He couldn’t smell any of what was happening two feet from him.

The mysterious Alpha caught you. He held you up while he put two twenties down on the counter. “For her gas.” He helped you out to your car, got you seated inside, then filled your tank. He walked back to you when he was done and leaned down to put his hand on your shoulder. The smell was overwhelming now. It was heady, more than if you’d drunk the champagne instead of just smelling it.

The Alpha kneeled in front of you. That magnificent voice had softened when he spoke to you. “I don’t think you should drive. I’m going to call my brother to come get my car, and then I’ll drive you home.”

Your head was feeling too light to argue, and there was a twinge of feeling bordering on pain starting between your legs. You nodded. “Okay.” Just like that. You trusted him, trusted him completely. It felt right what he was doing, taking care of you.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest. His voice sounded farther away, and you caught snippets of his conversation as you attempted to navigate all the emotional and physical feelings of your first heat. “Dean, i need you to come get the car.” Dean must be his brother. You missed the next part and then, “I’ll explain it all later. Just trust me. It’s never been more important.”

He returned to you and used that same soft tone he’d had with you before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. He lifted you like you weighed nothing more than a feather and carried you around to the passenger’s side of the car. He settled you in the seat and walked back around to take his place behind the wheel. Then, he turned to you. “I’m Sam.” His eyes focused on yours again. “And you’re my Omega.”

You gave him directions to your house, and when you got there he carried you inside, across the threshold just like you were a bride. “Where’s your bedroom?” It didn’t seem at all strange to have this man you’d just met in your house, or to be giving him directions to your bedroom. You wanted him there. The idea of him leaving scared you a little bit.

Sam put you down on your bed, and that fear bubbled up in your heart. You reached for him. “Don’t leave.”

He took your hand. “I wasn’t going to leave. Just go outside the room so you can change for bed. Your smell is so strong. All I can smell is you. It’s going to bring on my rut. So, I should probably put some distance between us. But I’m going to stay. Make sure you’re okay.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m not. I’m not okay. I need you. This is so…” A huge gush of slick ran down your thighs. You cried out. “Sam, please. I don’t know what’s happening.”

A look of concern shadowed his gray green hazel eyes. “Your heats haven’t been like this before?”

You had a nearly vise like grip on his hand now; it was starting to hurt, and you grabbed his forearm with your other hand. “I’ve never had a heat before. This is the first one.”

It took a couple of seconds for Sam to comprehend what you’d just said. Then a fierce, protective gentleness filled his eyes; he didn’t let go of your hand until he was on the bed with you, then he took you in his arms. “I’ve got you, my Omega. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

“It hurts, Sam. Why does it hurt?” This wasn’t what you had imagined it would be like to be an Omega. They’re had been no one in your life to explain it to you, and you were sure the books you’d read must be exaggerating.

Sam stroked your hair, trying to soothe you. “It hurts because you need an Alpha. Your body wants to be knotted. You need an Alpha’s knot.”

You held onto him tightly. “Will that make it stop?”

Sam whispered, “Yeah, that will make it stop.” He kept running his fingers through your hair, and then he growled. His hand stilled; his body was shaking with the effort to control himself.

His growling and shaking surprised you, and you jumped. “Sam, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He doubled his efforts to steady himself and stopped his shaking. “My body needs you too.” His voice was much more gruff than it had been before.

You raised your hand to sink your fingers into his hair, just as his were buried in yours. “Make it stop, Sam. Make it stop for both of us.”

While he was taking off your clothes, it didn’t occur to you once to feel self conscious about your lack of a flat stomach, the fullness of your thighs, or any of the other parts of your body you considered to be an imperfection. He kissed each and every one of them, while telling you how perfect you were. Your Alpha made you feel beautiful.

The touch of his hands was so gentle, even while you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. When his lips first touched yours, it was like when the match meet the candle wick, and the flame sparks to life. Sam kissed you for a long time, causing you to produce more slick, getting you ready for him.

When at last he broke the kiss, you looked into those eyes with the ability to change color; you saw into him, found that deep place where no one but his Omega would ever be allowed to go. “Were we meant to be together, Sam?”

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek. “Yeah, that’s how it works.” His eyes held yours, “I’ve been waiting for you so long.” The smell of leather was stronger now. It signaled the depth of the lust he was feeling, mixed with the more tender emotions.

You put your hand over his where it was still resting against your face. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m ready. Take me. Make me yours.”

Sam put his hands on the inside of your thighs and opened your legs. His eyes never left yours as he entered you slowly. The stretch pushed you to the limits of what you could take, and you knew it was nothing compared to what was to come when he gave you his knot.

He moved inside you with a gentle rhythm that heightened your passion and your need for him. When you started to roll your hips in time with the movements he was making, Sam reached between your bodies and started to rub your clit. He gave you exactly what you needed, and an intense orgasm came crashing through you.

While your body was still in the spasms of its release, Sam’s knot began to swell. “Yes, Alpha, yes. Please.”

Sam took you in his arms and rolled you to your side to face him while his knot continued to swell. He covered your face with soft kisses. “Are you okay?”

You clung to him, still afraid you might somehow lose him even though his body was firmly attached to yours. “Yes. This is what I’ve always wanted. You. I wanted you. I just couldn’t find you.” Tears started to slide down your cheeks. Everything about this night was overwhelming.

Sam wiped away your tears, kissed your temple, and whispered in your ear, “Shh. i’m here. I’ve got you now, my sweet Omega.”

You buried your face in his neck. The smell of the leather was receding now, blending back in with the mahogany and champagne. “Are you sure I’m your Omega, Sam? I mean I know I must not look like the other Omegas you’ve been with.”

He held you closer to him. “Yes, I’m sure.” You felt a fresh wave of his seed pumping into your womb. Sam put his fingers under your chin and tilted your face up to look at him. “You are more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

You smiled, and a different kind of tears filled your eyes. This time they didn’t fall. You felt secure. You felt wanted, and you felt claimed even though he hadn’t yet put his mark on you. He would though. You knew it. Sam would claim you, mark you, and you would be proud for everyone to see it.

Sam brushed his thumb over your chin just below your lip. “What are you thinking, my Omega?”

You nodded just enough to kiss his thumb that was beneath your lips. “I’m thinking you were worth the wait.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner

#spnkinkbingo #spnabobingo #alpha!sam #omega!reader #sam fluff #sam smut #alpha!sam x omega!reader #spn abo

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